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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/34541-8.txt b/34541-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..63ee41e --- /dev/null +++ b/34541-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7026 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of John Marchmont's Legacy, Volume III (of 3), by +Mary E. Braddon + +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: John Marchmont's Legacy, Volume III (of 3) + +Author: Mary E. Braddon + +Release Date: December 1, 2010 [EBook #34541] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOHN MARCHMONT'S LEGACY, VOL III *** + + + + +Produced by Clare Graham, using scans from the Internet Archive + + + + +JOHN MARCHMONT'S LEGACY. + + +BY [M.E. Braddon] THE AUTHOR OF +"LADY AUDLEY'S SECRET," +ETC. ETC. ETC. + + +IN THREE VOLUMES + +VOL. III. + + +Published by Tinsley Brothers of London in 1863 (third edition). + + + + +CONTENTS. + CHAPTER I. CAPTAIN ARUNDEL'S REVENGE. + CHAPTER II. THE DESERTED CHAMBERS. + CHAPTER III. TAKING IT QUIETLY. + CHAPTER IV. MISS LAWFORD SPEAKS HER MIND. + CHAPTER V. THE RETURN OF THE WANDERER. + CHAPTER VI. A WIDOWER'S PROPOSAL. + CHAPTER VII. HOW THE TIDINGS WERE RECEIVED IN LINCOLNSHIRE. + CHAPTER VIII. MR. WESTON REFUSES TO BE TRAMPLED ON. + CHAPTER IX. "GOING TO BE MARRIED!" + CHAPTER X. THE TURNING OF THE TIDE. + CHAPTER XI. BELINDA'S WEDDING DAY. + CHAPTER XII. MARY'S STORY. + CHAPTER XIII. "ALL WITHIN IS DARK AS NIGHT." + CHAPTER XIV. "THERE IS CONFUSION WORSE THAN DEATH." + CHAPTER THE LAST. "DEAR IS THE MEMORY OF OUR WEDDED LIVES." + THE EPILOGUE. + + + + +JOHN MARCHMONT'S LEGACY. + + +VOLUME III. + + +CHAPTER I. + +CAPTAIN ARUNDEL'S REVENGE. + + +Edward Arundel went back to his lonely home with a settled purpose in +his mind. He would leave Lincolnshire,--and immediately. He had no +motive for remaining. It may be, indeed, that he had a strong motive +for going away from the neighbourhood of Lawford Grange. There was a +lurking danger in the close vicinage of that pleasant, old-fashioned +country mansion, and the bright band of blue-eyed damsels who inhabited +there. + +"I will turn my back upon Lincolnshire for ever," Edward Arundel said +to himself once more, upon his way homeward through the October +twilight; "but before I go, the whole country shall know what I think +of Paul Marchmont." + +He clenched his fists and ground his teeth involuntarily as he thought +this. + +It was quite dark when he let himself in at the old-fashioned +half-glass door that led into his humble sitting-room at Kemberling +Retreat. He looked round the little chamber, which had been furnished +forty years before by the proprietor of the cottage, and had served for +one tenant after another, until it seemed as if the spindle-legged +chairs and tables had grown attenuated and shadowy by much service. He +looked at the simple room, lighted by a bright fire and a pair of +wax-candles in antique silver candlesticks. The red firelight flickered +and trembled upon the painted roses on the walls, on the obsolete +engravings in clumsy frames of imitation-ebony and tarnished gilt. A +silver tea-service and a Sèvres china cup and saucer, which Mrs. +Arundel had sent to the cottage for her son's use, stood upon the small +oval table: and a brown setter, a favourite of the young man's, lay +upon the hearth-rug, with his chin upon his outstretched paws, blinking +at the blaze. + +As Mr. Arundel lingered in the doorway, looking at these things, an +image rose before him, as vivid and distinct as any apparition of +Professor Pepper's manufacture; and he thought of what that commonplace +cottage-chamber might have been if his young wife had lived. He could +fancy her bending over the low silver teapot,--the sprawling inartistic +teapot, that stood upon quaint knobs like gouty feet, and had been long +ago banished from the Dangerfield breakfast-table as utterly rococo and +ridiculous. He conjured up the dear dead face, with faint blushes +flickering amidst its lily pallor, and soft hazel eyes looking up at +him through the misty steam of the tea-table, innocent and virginal as +the eyes of that mythic nymph who was wont to appear to the old Roman +king. How happy she would have been! How willing to give up fortune and +station, and to have lived for ever and ever in that queer old cottage, +ministering to him and loving him! + +Presently the face changed. The hazel-brown hair was suddenly lit up +with a glitter of barbaric gold; the hazel eyes grew blue and bright; +and the cheeks blushed rosy red. The young man frowned at this new and +brighter vision; but he contemplated it gravely for some moments, and +then breathed a long sigh, which was somehow or other expressive of +relief. + +"No," he said to himself, "I am _not_ false to my poor lost girl; I do +_not_ forget her. Her image is dearer to me than any living creature. +The mournful shadow of her face is more precious to me than the +brightest reality." + +He sat down in one of the spindle-legged arm-chairs, and poured out a +cup of tea. He drank it slowly, brooding over the fire as he sipped the +innocuous beverage, and did not deign to notice the caresses of the +brown setter, who laid his cold wet nose in his master's hand, and +performed a species of spirit-rapping upon the carpet with his tail. + +After tea the young man rang the bell, which was answered by Mr. +Morrison. + +"Have I any clothes that I can hunt in, Morrison?" Mr. Arundel asked. + +His factotum stared aghast at this question. + +"You ain't a-goin' to 'unt, are you, Mr. Edward?" he inquired, +anxiously. + +"Never mind that. I asked you a question about my clothes, and I want a +straightforward answer." + +"But, Mr. Edward," remonstrated the old servant, "I don't mean no +offence; and the 'orses is very tidy animals in their way; but if +you're thinkin' of goin' across country,--and a pretty stiffish country +too, as I've heard, in the way of bulfinches and timber,--neither of +them 'orses has any more of a 'unter in him than I have." + +"I know that as well as you do," Edward Arundel answered coolly; "but I +am going to the meet at Marchmont Towers to-morrow morning, and I want +you to look me out a decent suit of clothes--that's all. You can have +Desperado saddled ready for me a little after eleven o'clock." + +Mr. Morrison looked even more astonished than before. He knew his +master's savage enmity towards Paul Marchmont; and yet that very master +now deliberately talked of joining in an assembly which was to gather +together for the special purpose of doing the same Paul Marchmont +honour. However, as he afterwards remarked to the two fellow-servants +with whom he sometimes condescended to be familiar, it wasn't his place +to interfere or to ask any questions, and he had held his tongue +accordingly. + +Perhaps this respectful reticence was rather the result of prudence +than of inclination; for there was a dangerous light in Edward +Arundel's eyes upon this particular evening which Mr. Morrison never +had observed before. + +The factotum said something about this later in the evening. + +"I do really think," he remarked, "that, what with that young 'ooman's +death, and the solitood of this most dismal place, and the rainy +weather,--which those as says it always rains in Lincolnshire ain't far +out,--my poor young master is not the man he were." + +He tapped his forehead ominously to give significance to his words, and +sighed heavily over his supper-beer. + + * * * * * + +The sun shone upon Paul Marchmont on the morning of the 18th of +October. The autumn sunshine streamed into his bedchamber, and awoke +the new master of Marchmont Towers. He opened his eyes and looked about +him. He raised himself amongst the down pillows, and contemplated the +figures upon the tapestry in a drowsy reverie. He had been dreaming of +his poverty, and had been disputing a poor-rate summons with an +impertinent tax-collector in the dingy passage of the house in +Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square. Ah! that horrible house had so long +been the only scene of his life, that it had grown almost a part of his +mind, and haunted him perpetually in his sleep, like a nightmare of +brick and mortar, now that he was rich, and had done with it for ever. + +Mr. Marchmont gave a faint shudder, and shook off the influence of the +bad dream. Then, propped up by the pillows, he amused himself by +admiring his new bedchamber. + +It was a handsome room, certainly--the very room for an artist and a +sybarite. Mr. Marchmont had not chosen it without due consideration. It +was situated in an angle of the house; and though its chief windows +looked westward, being immediately above those of the western +drawing-room, there was another casement, a great oriel window, facing +the east, and admitting all the grandeur of the morning sun through +painted glass, on which the Marchmont escutcheon was represented in +gorgeous hues of sapphire and ruby, emerald and topaz, amethyst and +aqua-marine. Bright splashes of these colours flashed and sparkled on +the polished oaken floor, and mixed themselves with the Oriental +gaudiness of a Persian carpet, stretched beneath the low Arabian bed, +which was hung with ruby-coloured draperies that trailed upon the +ground. Paul Marchmont was fond of splendour, and meant to have as much +of it as money could buy. There was a voluptuous pleasure in all this +finery, which only a parvenu could feel; it was the sharpness of the +contrast between the magnificence of the present and the shabby +miseries of the past that gave a piquancy to the artist's enjoyment of +his new habitation. + +All the furniture and draperies of the chamber had been made by Paul +Marchmont's direction; but its chief beauty was the tapestry that +covered the walls, which had been worked, two hundred and fifty years +before, by a patient chatelaine of the House of Marchmont. This +tapestry lined the room on every side. The low door had been cut in it; +so that a stranger going into that apartment at night, a little under +the influence of the Marchmont cellars, and unable to register the +topography of the chamber upon the tablet of his memory, might have +been sorely puzzled to find an exit the next morning. Most tapestried +chambers have a certain dismal grimness about them, which is more +pleasant to the sightseer than to the constant inhabitant; but in this +tapestry the colours were almost as bright and glowing to-day as when +the fingers that had handled the variegated worsteds were still warm +and flexible. The subjects, too, were of a more pleasant order than +usual. No mailed ruffians or drapery-clad barbarians menaced the +unoffending sleeper with uplifted clubs, or horrible bolts, in the very +act of being launched from ponderous crossbows; no wicked-looking +Saracens, with ferocious eyes and copper-coloured visages, brandished +murderous scimitars above their turbaned heads. No; here all was +pastoral gaiety and peaceful delight. Maidens, with flowing kirtles and +crisped yellow hair, danced before great wagons loaded with golden +wheat. Youths, in red and purple jerkins, frisked as they played the +pipe and tabor. The Flemish horses dragging the heavy wain were hung +with bells and garlands as for a rustic festival, and tossed their +untrimmed manes into the air, and frisked and gamboled with their +awkward legs, in ponderous imitation of the youths and maidens. Afar +off, in the distance, wonderful villages, very queer as to perspective, +but all a-bloom with gaudy flowers and quaint roofs of bright-red +tiles, stood boldly out against a bluer sky than the most enthusiastic +pre-Raphaelite of to-day would care to send to the Academy in Trafalgar +Square. + +Paul Marchmont smiled at the youths and maidens, the laden wagons, the +revellers, and the impossible village. He was in a humour to be pleased +with everything to-day. He looked at his dressing-table, which stood +opposite to him, in the deep oriel window. His valet--he had a valet +now--had opened the great inlaid dressing-case, and the silver-gilt +fittings reflected the crimson hues of the velvet lining, as if the +gold had been flecked with blood. Glittering bottles of diamond-cut +glass, that presented a thousand facets to the morning light, stood +like crystal obelisks amid the litter of carved-ivory brushes and +Sèvres boxes of pomatum; and one rare hothouse flower, white and +fragile, peeped out of a slender crystal vase, against a background of +dark shining leaves. + +"It's better than Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square," said Mr. +Marchmont, throwing himself back amongst the pillows until such time as +his valet should bring him a cup of strong tea to refresh and +invigorate his nerves withal. "I remember the paper in my room: drab +hexagons and yellow spots upon a brown ground. _So_ pretty! And then +the dressing-table: deal, gracefully designed; with a shallow drawer, +in which my razors used to rattle like castanets when I tried to pull +it open; a most delicious table, exquisitely painted in stripes, +olive-green upon stone colour, picked out with the favourite brown. Oh, +it was a most delightful life; but it's over, thank Providence; it's +over!" + +Mr. Paul Marchmont thanked Providence as devoutly as if he had been the +most patient attendant upon the Divine pleasure, and had never for one +moment dreamed of intruding his own impious handiwork amid the +mysterious designs of Omnipotence. + +The sun shone upon the new master of Marchmont Towers. This bright +October morning was not the very best for hunting purposes; for there +was a fresh breeze blowing from the north, and a blue unclouded sky. +But it was most delightful weather for the breakfast, and the +assembling on the lawn, and all the pleasant preliminaries of the day's +sport. Mr. Paul Marchmont, who was a thorough-bred Cockney, troubled +himself very little about the hunt as he basked in that morning light. +He only thought that the sun was shining upon him, and that he had come +at last--no matter by what crooked ways--to the realisation of his +great day-dream, and that he was to be happy and prosperous for the +rest of his life. + +He drank his tea, and then got up and dressed himself. He wore the +conventional "pink," the whitest buckskins, the most approved boots and +tops; and he admired himself very much in the cheval glass when this +toilet was complete. He had put on the dress for the gratification of +his vanity, rather than from any serious intention of doing what he was +about as incapable of doing, as he was of becoming a modern Rubens or a +new Raphael. He would receive his friends in this costume, and ride to +cover, and follow the hounds, perhaps,--a little way. At any rate, it +was very delightful to him to play the country gentleman; and he had +never felt so much a country gentleman as at this moment, when he +contemplated himself from head to heel in his hunting costume. + +At ten o'clock the guests began to assemble; the meet was not to take +place until twelve, so that there might be plenty of time for the +breakfast. + +I don't think Paul Marchmont ever really knew what took place at that +long table, at which he sat for the first time in the place of host and +master. He was intoxicated from the first with the sense of triumph and +delight in his new position; and he drank a great deal, for he drank +unconsciously, emptying his glass every time it was filled, and never +knowing who filled it, or what was put into it. By this means he took a +very considerable quantity of various sparkling and effervescing wines; +sometimes hock, sometimes Moselle, very often champagne, to say nothing +of a steady undercurrent of unpronounceable German hocks and crusted +Burgundies. But he was not drunk after the common fashion of mortals; +he could not be upon this particular day. He was not stupid, or drowsy, +or unsteady upon his legs; he was only preternaturally excited, looking +at everything through a haze of dazzling light, as if all the gold of +his newly-acquired fortune had been melted into the atmosphere. + +He knew that the breakfast was a great success; that the long table was +spread with every delicious comestible that the science of a first-rate +cook, to say nothing of Fortnum and Mason, could devise; that the +profusion of splendid silver, the costly china, the hothouse flowers, +and the sunshine, made a confused mass of restless glitter and glowing +colour that dazzled his eyes as he looked at it. He knew that everybody +courted and flattered him, and that he was almost stifled by the +overpowering sense of his own grandeur. Perhaps he felt this most when +a certain county magnate, a baronet, member of Parliament, and great +landowner, rose,--primed with champagne, and rather thicker of +utterance than a man should be who means to be in at the death, +by-and-by,--and took the opportunity of--hum--expressing, in a few +words,--haw--the very great pleasure which he--aw, yes--and he thought +he might venture to remark,--aw--everybody about him--ha--felt on this +most--arrah, arrah--interesting--er--occasion; and said a great deal +more, which took a very long time to say, but the gist of which was, +that all these country gentlemen were so enraptured by the new addition +to their circle, and so altogether delighted with Mr. Paul Marchmont, +that they really were at a loss to understand how it was they had ever +managed to endure existence without him. + +And then there was a good deal of rather unnecessary but very +enthusiastic thumping of the table, whereat the costly glass shivered, +and the hothouse blossoms trembled, amidst the musical chinking of +silver forks; while the foxhunters declared in chorus that the new +owner of Marchmont Towers was a jolly good fellow, which--_i.e._, the +fact of his jollity--nobody could deny. + +It was not a very fine demonstration, but it was a very hearty one. +Moreover, these noisy foxhunters were all men of some standing in the +county; and it is a proof of the artist's inherent snobbery that to him +the husky voices of these half-drunken men were more delicious than the +sweet soprano tones of an equal number of Pattis--penniless and obscure +Pattis, that is to say--sounding his praises. He was lifted at last out +of that poor artist-life, in which he had always been a groveller,--not +so much for lack of talent as by reason of the smallness of his own +soul,--into a new sphere, where everybody was rich and grand and +prosperous, and where the pleasant pathways were upon the necks of +prostrate slaves, in the shape of grooms and hirelings, respectful +servants, and reverential tradespeople. + +Yes, Paul Marchmont was more drunken than any of his guests; but his +drunkenness was of a different kind to theirs. It was not the wine, but +his own grandeur that intoxicated and besotted him. + +These foxhunters might get the better of their drunkenness in half an +hour or so; but his intoxication was likely to last for a very long +time, unless he should receive some sudden shock, powerful enough to +sober him. + +Meanwhile the hounds were yelping and baying upon the lawn, and the +huntsmen and whippers-in were running backwards and forwards from the +lawn to the servants' hall, devouring snacks of beef and ham,--a pound +and a quarter or so at one sitting; or crunching the bones of a +frivolous young chicken,--there were not half a dozen mouthfuls on such +insignificant half-grown fowls; or excavating under the roof of a great +game-pie; or drinking a quart or so of strong ale, or half a tumbler of +raw brandy, _en passant_; and doing a great deal more in the same way, +merely to beguile the time until the gentlefolks should appear upon the +broad stone terrace. + +It was half-past twelve o'clock, and Mr. Marchmont's guests were still +drinking and speechifying. They had been on the point of making a move +ever so many times; but it had happened every time that some gentleman, +who had been very quiet until that moment, suddenly got upon his legs, +and began to make swallowing and gasping noises, and to wipe his lips +with a napkin; whereby it was understood that he was going to propose +somebody's health. This had considerably lengthened the entertainment, +and it seemed rather likely that the ostensible business of the day +would be forgotten altogether. But at half-past twelve, the county +magnate, who had bidden Paul Marchmont a stately welcome to +Lincolnshire, remembered that there were twenty couple of impatient +hounds scratching up the turf in front of the long windows of the +banquet-chamber, while as many eager young tenant-farmers, stalwart +yeomen, well-to-do butchers, and a herd of tag-rag and bobtail, were +pining for the sport to begin;--at last, I say, Sir Lionel Boport +remembered this, and led the way to the terrace, leaving the renegades +to repose on the comfortable sofas lurking here and there in the +spacious rooms. Then the grim stone front of the house was suddenly +lighted up into splendour. The long terrace was one blaze of "pink," +relieved here and there by patches of sober black and forester's green. +Amongst all these stalwart, florid-visaged country gentlemen, Paul +Marchmont, very elegant, very picturesque, but extremely +unsportsmanlike, the hero of the hour, walked slowly down the broad +stone steps amidst the vociferous cheering of the crowd, the snapping +and yelping of impatient hounds, and the distant braying of a horn. + +It was the crowning moment of his life; the moment he had dreamed of +again and again in the wretched days of poverty and obscurity. The +scene was scarcely new to him,--he had acted it so often in his +imagination; he had heard the shouts and seen the respectful crowd. +There was a little difference in detail; that was all. There was no +disappointment, no shortcoming in the realisation; as there so often is +when our brightest dreams are fulfilled, and the one great good, the +all-desired, is granted to us. No; the prize was his, and it was worth +all that he had sacrificed to win it. + +He looked up, and saw his mother and his sisters in the great window +over the porch. He could see the exultant pride in his mother's pale +face; and the one redeeming sentiment of his nature, his love for the +womankind who depended upon him, stirred faintly in his breast, amid +the tumult of gratified ambition and selfish joy. + +This one drop of unselfish pleasure filled the cup to the brim. He took +off his hat and waved it high up above his head in answer to the +shouting of the crowd. He had stopped halfway down the flight of steps +to bow his acknowledgment of the cheering. He waved his hat, and the +huzzas grew still louder; and a band upon the other side of the lawn +played that familiar and triumphant march which is supposed to apply to +every living hero, from a Wellington just come home from Waterloo, to +the winner of a boat-race, or a patent-starch proprietor newly elected +by an admiring constituency. + +There was nothing wanting. I think that in that supreme moment Paul +Marchmont quite forgot the tortuous and perilous ways by which he had +reached this all-glorious goal. I don't suppose the young princes +smothered in the Tower were ever more palpably present in Tyrant +Richard's memory than when the murderous usurper grovelled in +Bosworth's miry clay, and knew that the great game of life was lost. It +was only when Henry the Eighth took away the Great Seal that Wolsey was +able to see the foolishness of man's ambition. In that moment memory +and conscience, never very wakeful in the breast of Paul Marchmont, +were dead asleep, and only triumph and delight reigned in their stead. +No; there was nothing wanting. This glory and grandeur paid him a +thousandfold for his patience and self-abnegation during the past year. + +He turned half round to look up at those eager watchers at the window. + +Good God! It was his sister Lavinia's face he saw; no longer full of +triumph and pleasure, but ghastly pale, and staring at someone or +something horrible in the crowd. Paul Marchmont turned to look for this +horrible something the sight of which had power to change his sister's +face; and found himself confronted by a young man,--a young man whose +eyes flamed like coals of fire, whose cheeks were as white as a sheet +of paper, and whose firm lips were locked as tightly as if they had +been chiseled out of a block of granite. + +This man was Edward Arundel,--the young widower, the handsome +soldier,--whom everybody remembered as the husband of poor lost Mary +Marchmont. + +He had sprung out from amidst the crowd only one moment before, and had +dashed up the steps of the terrace before any one had time to think of +hindering him or interfering with him. It seemed to Paul Marchmont as +if his foe must have leaped out of the solid earth, so sudden and so +unlooked-for was his coming. He stood upon the step immediately below +the artist; but as the terrace-steps were shallow, and as he was taller +by half a foot than Paul, the faces of the two men were level, and they +confronted each other. + +The soldier held a heavy hunting-whip in his hand--no foppish toy, with +a golden trinket for its head, but a stout handle of stag-horn, and a +formidable leathern thong. He held this whip in his strong right hand, +with the thong twisted round the handle; and throwing out his left arm, +nervous and muscular as the limb of a young gladiator, he seized Paul +Marchmont by the collar of that fashionably-cut scarlet coat which the +artist had so much admired in the cheval-glass that morning. + +There was a shout of surprise and consternation from the gentlemen on +the terrace and the crowd upon the lawn, a shrill scream from the +women; and in the next moment Paul Marchmont was writhing under a +shower of blows from the hunting-whip in Edward Arundel's hand. The +artist was not physically brave, yet he was not such a cur as to submit +unresistingly to this hideous disgrace; but the attack was so sudden +and unexpected as to paralyse him--so rapid in its execution as to +leave him no time for resistance. Before he had recovered his presence +of mind; before he knew the meaning of Edward Arundel's appearance in +that place; even before he could fully realise the mere fact of his +being there,--the thing was done; he was disgraced for ever. He had +sunk in that one moment from the very height of his new grandeur to the +lowest depth of social degradation. + +"Gentlemen!" Edward Arundel cried, in a loud voice, which was +distinctly heard by every member of the gaping crowd, "when the law of +the land suffers a scoundrel to prosper, honest men must take the law +into their own hands. I wished you to know my opinion of the new master +of Marchmont Towers; and I think I've expressed it pretty clearly. I +know him to be a most consummate villain; and I give you fair warning +that he is no fit associate for honourable men. Good morning." + +Edward Arundel lifted his hat, bowed to the assembly, and then ran down +the steps. Paul Marchmont, livid, and foaming at the mouth, rushed +after him, brandishing his clenched fists, and gesticulating in +impotent rage; but the young man's horse was waiting for him at a few +paces from the terrace, in the care of a butcher's apprentice, and he +was in the saddle before the artist could overtake him. + +"I shall not leave Kemberling for a week, Mr. Marchmont," he called +out; and then he walked his horse away, holding himself erect as a +dart, and staring defiance at the crowd. + +I am sorry to have to testify to the fickle nature of the British +populace; but I am bound to own that a great many of the stalwart +yeomen who had eaten game-pies and drunk strong liquors at Paul +Marchmont's expense not half an hour before, were base enough to feel +an involuntary admiration for Edward Arundel, as he rode slowly away, +with his head up and his eyes flaming. There is seldom very much +genuine sympathy for a man who has been horsewhipped; and there is a +pretty universal inclination to believe that the man who inflicts +chastisement upon him must be right in the main. It is true that the +tenant-farmers, especially those whose leases were nearly run out, were +very loud in their indignation against Mr. Arundel, and one adventurous +spirit made a dash at the young man's bridle as he went by; but the +general feeling was in favour of the conqueror, and there was a lack of +heartiness even in the loudest expressions of sympathy. + +The crowd made a lane for Paul Marchmont as he went back to the house, +white and helpless, and sick with shame. + +Several of the gentlemen upon the terrace came forward to shake hands +with him, and to express their indignation, and to offer any friendly +service that he might require of them by-and-by,--such as standing by +to see him shot, if he should choose an old-fashioned mode of +retaliation; or bearing witness against Edward Arundel in a law-court, +if Mr. Marchmont preferred to take legal measures. But even these men +recoiled when they felt the cold dampness of the artist's hands, and +saw that _he had been frightened_. These sturdy, uproarious foxhunters, +who braved the peril of sudden death every time they took a day's +sport, entertained a sovereign contempt for a man who _could_ be +frightened of anybody or anything. They made no allowance for Paul +Marchmont's Cockney education; they were not in the dark secrets of his +life, and knew nothing of his guilty conscience; and it was _that_ +which had made him more helpless than a child in the fierce grasp of +Edward Arundel. + +So one by one, after this polite show of sympathy, the rich man's +guests fell away from him; and the yelping hounds and the cantering +horses left the lawn before Marchmont Towers; the sound of the brass +band and the voices of the people died away in the distance; and the +glory of the day was done. + +Paul Marchmont crawled slowly back to that luxurious bedchamber which +he had left only a few hours before, and, throwing himself at full +length upon the bed, sobbed like a frightened child. + +He was panic-stricken; not because of the horsewhipping, but because of +a sentence that Edward Arundel had whispered close to his ear in the +midst of the struggle. + +"I know _everything_," the young man had said; "I know the secrets you +hide in the pavilion by the river!" + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE DESERTED CHAMBERS. + + +Edward Arundel kept his word. He waited for a week and upwards, but +Paul Marchmont made no sign; and after having given him three days' +grace over and above the promised time, the young man abandoned +Kemberling Retreat, for ever, as he thought, and went away from +Lincolnshire. + +He had waited; hoping that Paul Marchmont would try to retaliate, and +that some desperate struggle, physical or legal,--he scarcely cared +which,--would occur between them. He would have courted any hazard +which might have given him some chance of revenge. But nothing +happened. He sent out Mr. Morrison to beat up information about the +master of Marchmont Towers; and the factotum came back with the +intelligence that Mr. Marchmont was ill, and would see no +one--"leastways" excepting his mother and Mr. George Weston. + +Edward Arundel shrugged his shoulders when he heard these tidings. + +"What a contemptible cur the man is!" he thought. "There was a time +when I could have suspected him of any foul play against my lost girl. +I know him better now, and know that he is not even capable of a great +crime. He was only strong enough to stab his victim in the dark, with +lying paragraphs in newspapers, and dastardly hints and inuendoes." + +It would have been only perhaps an act of ordinary politeness had +Edward Arundel paid a farewell visit to his friends at the Grange. But +he did not go near the hospitable old house. He contented himself with +writing a cordial letter to Major Lawford, thanking him for his +hospitality and kindness, and referring, vaguely enough, to the hope of +a future meeting. + +He despatched this letter by Mr. Morrison, who was in very high spirits +at the prospect of leaving Kemberling, and who went about his work with +almost boyish activity in the exuberance of his delight. The valet +worked so briskly as to complete all necessary arrangements in a couple +of days; and on the 29th of October, late in the afternoon, all was +ready, and he had nothing to do but to superintend the departure of the +two horses from the Kemberling railway-station, under the guardianship +of the lad who had served as Edward's groom. + +Throughout that last day Mr. Arundel wandered here and there about the +house and garden that so soon were to be deserted. He was dreadfully at +a loss what to do with himself, and, alas! it was not to-day only that +he felt the burden of his hopeless idleness. He felt it always; a +horrible load, not to be cast away from him. His life had been broken +off short, as it were, by the catastrophe which had left him a widower +before his honeymoon was well over. The story of his existence was +abruptly broken asunder; all the better part of his life was taken away +from him, and he did not know what to do with the blank and useless +remnant. The ravelled threads of a once-harmonious web, suddenly +wrenched in twain, presented a mass of inextricable confusion; and the +young man's brain grew dizzy when he tried to draw them out, or to +consider them separately. + +His life was most miserable, most hopeless, by reason of its emptiness. +He had no duty to perform, no task to achieve. That nature must be +utterly selfish, entirely given over to sybarite rest and +self-indulgence, which does not feel a lack of something wanting +these,--a duty or a purpose. Better to be Sisyphus toiling up the +mountain-side, than Sisyphus with the stone taken away from him, and no +hope of ever reaching the top. I heard a man once--a bill-sticker, and +not by any means a sentimental or philosophical person--declare that he +had never known real prosperity until he had thirteen orphan +grandchildren to support; and surely there was a universal moral in +that bill-sticker's confession. He had been a drunkard before, +perhaps,--he didn't say anything about that,--and a reprobate, it may +be; but those thirteen small mouths clamoring for food made him sober +and earnest, brave and true. He had a duty to do, and was happy in its +performance. He was wanted in the world, and he was somebody. From +Napoleon III., holding the destinies of civilised Europe in his hands, +and debating whether he shall re-create Poland or build a new +boulevard, to Paterfamilias in a Government office, working for the +little ones at home,--and from Paterfamilias to the crossing-sweeper, +who craves his diurnal halfpenny from busy citizens, tramping to their +daily toil,--every man has his separate labour and his different +responsibility. For ever and for ever the busy wheel of life turns +round; but duty and ambition are the motive powers that keep it going. + +Edward Arundel felt the barrenness of his life, now that he had taken +the only revenge which was possible for him upon the man who had +persecuted his wife. _That_ had been a rapturous but brief enjoyment. +It was over. He could do no more to the man; since there was no lower +depth of humiliation--in these later days, when pillories and +whipping-posts and stocks are exploded from our market-places--to which +a degraded creature could descend. No; there was no more to be done. It +was useless to stop in Lincolnshire. The sad suggestion of the little +slipper found by the water-side was but too true. Paul Marchmont had +not murdered his helpless cousin; he had only tortured her to death. He +was quite safe from the law of the land, which, being of a positive and +arbitrary nature, takes no cognisance of indefinable offences. This +most infamous man was safe; and was free to enjoy his ill-gotten +grandeur--if he could take much pleasure in it, after the scene upon +the stone terrace. + +The only joy that had been left for Edward Arundel after his retirement +from the East India Company's service was this fierce delight of +vengeance. He had drained the intoxicating cup to the dregs, and had +been drunken at first in the sense of his triumph. But he was sober +now; and he paced up and down the neglected garden beneath a chill +October sky, crunching the fallen leaves under his feet, with his arms +folded and his head bent, thinking of the barren future. It was all +bare,--a blank stretch of desert land, with no city in the distance; no +purple domes or airy minarets on the horizon. It was in the very nature +of this young man to be a soldier; and he was nothing if not a soldier. +He could never remember having had any other aspiration than that eager +thirst for military glory. Before he knew the meaning of the word +"war," in his very infancy, the sound of a trumpet or the sight of a +waving banner, a glittering weapon, a sentinel's scarlet coat, had +moved him to a kind of rapture. The unvarnished schoolroom records of +Greek and Roman warfare had been as delightful to him as the finest +passages of a Macaulay or a Froude, a Thiers or Lamartine. He was a +soldier by the inspiration of Heaven, as all great soldiers are. He had +never known any other ambition, or dreamed any other dream. Other lads +had talked of the bar, and the senate, and _their_ glories. Bah! how +cold and tame they seemed! What was the glory of a parliamentary +triumph, in which words were the only weapons wielded by the +combatants, compared with a hand-to-hand struggle, ankle deep in the +bloody mire of a crowded trench, or a cavalry charge, before which a +phalanx of fierce Affghans fled like frightened sheep upon a moor! +Edward Arundel was a soldier, like the Duke of Wellington or Sir Colin +Campbell,--one writes the old romantic name involuntarily, because one +loves it best,--or Othello. The Moor's first lamentation when he +believes that Desdemona is false, and his life is broken, is that +sublime farewell to all the glories of the battle-field. It was almost +the same with Edward Arundel. The loss of his wife and of his captaincy +were blent and mingled in his mind and he could only bewail the one +great loss which left life most desolate. + +He had never felt the full extent of his desolation until now; for +heretofore he had been buoyed up by the hope of vengeance upon Paul +Marchmont; and now that his solitary hope had been realised to the +fullest possible extent, there was nothing left,--nothing but to revoke +the sacrifice he had made, and to regain his place in the Indian army +at any cost. + +He tried not to think of the possibility of this. It seemed to him +almost an infidelity towards his dead wife to dream of winning honours +and distinction, now that she, who would have been so proud of any +triumph won by him, was for ever lost. + +So, under the grey October sky he paced up and down upon the +grass-grown pathways, amidst the weeds and briars, the brambles and +broken branches that crackled as he trod upon them; and late in the +afternoon, when the day, which had been sunless and cold, was melting +into dusky twilight, he opened the low wooden gateway and went out into +the road. An impulse which he could not resist took him towards the +river-bank and the wood behind Marchmont Towers. Once more, for the +last time in his life perhaps, he went down to that lonely shore. He +went to look at the bleak unlovely place which had been the scene of +his betrothal. + +It was not that he had any thought of meeting Olivia Marchmont; he had +dismissed her from his mind ever since his last visit to the lonely +boat-house. Whatever the mystery of her life might be, her secret lay +at the bottom of a black depth which the impetuous soldier did not care +to fathom. He did not want to discover that hideous secret. Tarnished +honour, shame, falsehood, disgrace, lurked in the obscurity in which +John Marchmont's widow had chosen to enshroud her life. Let them rest. +It was not for him to drag away the curtain that sheltered his +kinswoman from the world. + +He had no thought, therefore, of prying into any secrets that might be +hidden in the pavilion by the water. The fascination that lured him to +the spot was the memory of the past. He could not go to Mary's grave; +but he went, in as reverent a spirit as he would have gone thither, to +the scene of his betrothal, to pay his farewell visit to the spot which +had been for ever hallowed by the confession of her innocent love. + +It was nearly dark when he got to the river-side. He went by a path +which quite avoided the grounds about Marchmont Towers,--a narrow +footpath, which served as a towing-path sometimes, when some black +barge crawled by on its way out to the open sea. To-night the river was +hidden by a mist,--a white fog,--that obscured land and water; and it +was only by the sound of the horses' hoofs that Edward Arundel had +warning to step aside, as a string of them went by, dragging a chain +that grated on the pebbles by the river-side. + +"Why should they say my darling committed suicide?" thought Edward +Arundel, as he groped his way along the narrow pathway. "It was on such +an evening as this that she ran away from home. What more likely than +that she lost the track, and wandered into the river? Oh, my own poor +lost one, God grant it was so! God grant it was by His will, and not +your own desperate act, that you were lost to me!" + +Sorrowful as the thought of his wife's death was to him, it soothed him +to believe that death might have been accidental. There was all the +difference betwixt sorrow and despair in the alternative. + +Wandering ignorantly and helplessly through this autumnal fog, Edward +Arundel found himself at the boat-house before he was aware of its +vicinity. + +There was a light gleaming from the broad north window of the +painting-room, and a slanting line of light streamed out of the +half-open door. In this lighted doorway Edward saw the figure of a +girl,--an unkempt, red-headed girl, with a flat freckled face; a girl +who wore a lavender-cotton pinafore and hob-nailed boots, with a good +deal of brass about the leathern fronts, and a redundancy of rusty +leathern boot-lace twisted round the ankles. + +The young man remembered having seen this girl once in the village of +Kemberling. She had been in Mrs. Weston's service as a drudge, and was +supposed to have received her education in the Swampington union. + +This young lady was supporting herself against the half-open door, with +her arms a-kimbo, and her hands planted upon her hips, in humble +imitation of the matrons whom she had been wont to see lounging at +their cottage-doors in the high street of Kemberling, when the labours +of the day were done. + +Edward Arundel started at the sudden apparition of this damsel. + +"Who are you, girl?" he asked; "and what brings you to this place?" + +He trembled as he spoke. A sudden agitation had seized upon him, which +he had no power to account for. It seemed as if Providence had brought +him to this spot to-night, and had placed this ignorant country-girl in +his way, for some special purpose. Whatever the secrets of this place +might be, he was to know them, it appeared, since he had been led here, +not by the promptings of curiosity, but only by a reverent love for a +scene that was associated with his dead wife. + +"Who are you, girl?" he asked again. + +"Oi be Betsy Murrel, sir," the damsel answered; "some on 'em calls me +'Wuk-us Bet;' and I be coom here to cle-an oop a bit." + +"To clean up what?" + +"The paa-intin' room. There's a de-al o' moock aboot, and aw'm to +fettle oop, and make all toidy agen t' squire gets well." + +"Are you all alone here?" + +"All alo-an? Oh, yes, sir." + +"Have you been here long?" + +The girl looked at Mr. Arundel with a cunning leer, which was one of +her "wuk-us" acquirements. + +"Aw've bin here off an' on ever since t' squire ke-ame," she said. +"There's a deal o' cleanin' down 'ere." + +Edward Arundel looked at her sternly; but there was nothing to be +gathered from her stolid countenance after its agreeable leer had +melted away. The young man might have scrutinised the figure-head of +the black barge creeping slowly past upon the hidden river with quite +as much chance of getting any information out of its play of feature. + +He walked past the girl into Paul Marchmont's painting-room. Miss Betsy +Murrel made no attempt to hinder him. She had spoken the truth as to +the cleaning of the place, for the room smelt of soapsuds, and a pail +and scrubbing-brush stood in the middle of the floor. The young man +looked at the door behind which he had heard the crying of the child. +It was ajar, and the stone-steps leading up to it were wet, bearing +testimony to Betsy Murrel's industry. + +Edward Arundel took the flaming tallow-candle from the table in the +painting-room, and went up the steps into the pavilion. The girl +followed, but she did not try to restrain him, or to interfere with +him. She followed him with her mouth open, staring at him after the +manner of her kind, and she looked the very image of rustic stupidity. + +With the flaring candle shaded by his left hand, Edward Arundel +examined the two chambers in the pavilion. There was very little to +reward his scrutiny. The two small rooms were bare and cheerless. The +repairs that had been executed had only gone so far as to make them +tolerably inhabitable, and secure from wind and weather. The furniture +was the same that Edward remembered having seen on his last visit to +the Towers; for Mary had been fond of sitting in one of the little +rooms, looking out at the slow river and the trembling rushes on the +shore. There was no trace of recent occupation in the empty rooms, no +ashes in the grates. The girl grinned maliciously as Mr. Arundel raised +the light above his head, and looked about him. He walked in and out of +the two rooms. He stared at the obsolete chairs, the rickety tables, +the dilapidated damask curtains, flapping every now and then in the +wind that rushed in through the crannies of the doors and windows. He +looked here and there, like a man bewildered; much to the amusement of +Miss Betsy Murrel, who, with her arms crossed, and her elbows in the +palms of her moist hands, followed him backwards and forwards between +the two small chambers. + +"There was some one living here a week ago," he said; "some one who had +the care of a----" + +He stopped suddenly. If he had guessed rightly at the dark secret, it +was better that it should remain for ever hidden. This girl was perhaps +more ignorant than himself. It was not for him to enlighten her. + +"Do you know if anybody has lived here lately?" he asked. + +Betsy Murrel shook her head. + +"Nobody has lived here--not that _oi_ knows of," she replied; "not to +take their victuals, and such loike. Missus brings her work down +sometimes, and sits in one of these here rooms, while Muster Poll does +his pictur' paa-intin'; that's all _oi_ knows of." + +Edward went back to the painting-room, and set down his candle. The +mystery of those empty chambers was no business of his. He began to +think that his cousin Olivia was mad, and that her outbursts of terror +and agitation had been only the raving of a mad woman, after all. There +had been a great deal in her manner during the last year that had +seemed like insanity. The presence of the child might have been purely +accidental; and his cousin's wild vehemence only a paroxysm of +insanity. He sighed as he left Miss Murrel to her scouring. The world +seemed out of joint; and he, whose energetic nature fitted him for the +straightening of crooked things, had no knowledge of the means by which +it might be set right. + +"Good-bye, lonely place," he said; "good-bye to the spot where my young +wife first told me of her love." + +He walked back to the cottage, where the bustle of packing and +preparation was all over, and where Mr. Morrison was entertaining a +select party of friends in the kitchen. Early the next morning Mr. +Arundel and his servant left Lincolnshire; the key of Kemberling +Retreat was given up to the landlord; and a wooden board, flapping +above the dilapidated trellis-work of the porch, gave notice that the +habitation was to be let. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +TAKING IT QUIETLY. + + +All the county, or at least all that part of the county within a +certain radius of Marchmont Towers, waited very anxiously for Mr. Paul +Marchmont to make some move. The horsewhipping business had given quite +a pleasant zest, a flavour of excitement, a dash of what it is the +fashion nowadays to call "sensation," to the wind-up of the hunting +breakfast. Poor Paul's thrashing had been more racy and appetising than +the finest olives that ever grew, and his late guests looked forward to +a great deal more excitement and "sensation" before the business was +done with. Of course Paul Marchmont would do something. He _must_ make +a stir; and the sooner he made it the better. Matters would have to be +explained. People expected to know the _cause_ of Edward Arundel's +enmity; and of course the new master of the Towers would see the +propriety of setting himself right in the eyes of his influential +acquaintance, his tenantry, and retainers; especially if he +contemplated standing for Swampington at the next general election. + +This was what people said to each other. The scene at the +hunting-breakfast was a most fertile topic of conversation. It was +almost as good as a popular murder, and furnished scandalous paragraphs +_ad infinitum_ for the provincial papers, most of them beginning, "It +is understood--," or "It has been whispered in our hearing that--," or +"Rochefoucault has observed that--." Everybody expected that Paul +Marchmont would write to the papers, and that Edward Arundel would +answer him in the papers; and that a brisk and stirring warfare would +be carried on in printer's-ink--at least. But no line written by either +of the gentlemen appeared in any one of the county journals; and by +slow degrees it dawned upon people that there was no further amusement +to be got out of Paul's chastisement, and that the master of the Towers +meant to take the thing quietly, and to swallow the horrible outrage, +taking care to hide any wry faces he made during that operation. + +Yes; Paul Marchmont let the matter drop. The report was circulated that +he was very ill, and had suffered from a touch of brain-fever, which +kept him a victim to incessant delirium until after Mr. Arundel had +left the county. This rumour was set afloat by Mr. Weston the surgeon; +and as he was the only person admitted to his brother-in-law's +apartment, it was impossible for any one to contradict his assertion. + +The fox-hunting squires shrugged their shoulders; and I am sorry to say +that the epithets, "hound," "cur," "sneak," and "mongrel," were more +often applied to Mr. Marchmont than was consistent with Christian +feeling on the part of the gentlemen who uttered them. But a man who +can swallow a sound thrashing, administered upon his own door-step, has +to contend with the prejudices of society, and must take the +consequences of being in advance of his age. + +So, while his new neighbours talked about him, Paul Marchmont lay in +his splendid chamber, with the frisking youths and maidens staring at +him all day long, and simpering at him with their unchanging faces, +until he grew sick at heart, and began to loathe all this new grandeur, +which had so delighted him a little time ago. He no longer laughed at +the recollection of shabby Charlotte Street. He dreamt one night that +he was back again in the old bedroom, with the painted deal furniture, +and the hideous paper on the walls, and that the Marchmont-Towers +magnificence had been only a feverish vision; and he was glad to be +back in that familiar place, and was sorry on awaking to find that +Marchmont Towers was a splendid reality. + +There was only one faint red streak upon his shoulders, for the +thrashing had not been a brutal one. It was _disgrace_ Edward Arundel +had wanted to inflict, not physical pain, the commonplace punishment +with which a man corrects his refractory horse. The lash of the +hunting-whip had done very little damage to the artist's flesh; but it +had slashed away his manhood, as the sickle sweeps the flowers amidst +the corn. + +He could never look up again. The thought of going out of this house +for the first time, and the horror of confronting the altered faces of +his neighbours, was as dreadful to him as the anticipation of that +awful exit from the Debtor's Door, which is the last step but one into +eternity, must be to the condemned criminal. + +"I shall go abroad," he said to his mother, when he made his appearance +in the western drawing-room, a week after Edward's departure. "I shall +go on the Continent, mother; I have taken a dislike to this place, +since that savage attacked me the other day." + +Mrs. Marchmont sighed. + +"It will seem hard to lose you, Paul, now that you are rich. You were +so constant to us through all our poverty; and we might be so happy +together now." + +The artist was walking up and down the room, with his hands in the +pockets of his braided velvet coat. He knew that in the conventional +costume of a well-bred gentleman he showed to a disadvantage amongst +other men; and he affected a picturesque and artistic style of dress, +whose brighter hues and looser outlines lighted up his pale face, and +gave a grace to his spare figure. + +"You think it worth something, then, mother?" he said presently, half +kneeling, half lounging in a deep-cushioned easy chair near the table +at which his mother sat. "You think our money is worth something to us? +All these chairs and tables, this great rambling house, the servants +who wait upon us, and the carriages we ride in, are worth something, +are they not? they make us happier, I suppose. I know I always thought +such things made up the sum of happiness when I was poor. I have seen a +hearse going away from a rich man's door, carrying his cherished wife, +or his only son, perhaps; and I've thought, 'Ah, but he has forty +thousand a year!' You are happier here than you were in Charlotte +Street, eh, mother?" + +Mrs. Marchmont was a Frenchwoman by birth, though she had lived so long +in London as to become Anglicised. She only retained a slight accent of +her native tongue, and a good deal more vivacity of look and gesture +than is common to Englishwomen. Her elder daughter was sitting on the +other side of the broad fireplace. She was only a quieter and older +likeness of Lavinia Weston. + +"_Am_ I happier?" exclaimed Mrs. Marchmont. "Need you ask me the +question, Paul? But it is not so much for myself as for your sake that +I value all this grandeur." + +She held out her long thin hand, which was covered with rings, some +old-fashioned and comparatively valueless, others lately purchased by +her devoted son, and very precious. The artist took the shrunken +fingers in his own, and raised them to his lips. + +"I'm very glad that I've made you happy, mother," he said; "that's +something gained, at any rate." + +He left the fireplace, and walked slowly up and down the room, stopping +now and then to look out at the wintry sky, or the flat expanse of turf +below it; but he was quite a different creature to that which he had +been before his encounter with Edward Arundel. The chairs and tables +palled upon him. The mossy velvet pile of the new carpets seemed to him +like the swampy ground of a morass. The dark-green draperies of Genoa +velvet deepened into black with the growing twilight, and seemed as if +they had been fashioned out of palls. + +What was it worth, this fine house, with the broad flat before it? +Nothing, if he had lost the respect and consideration of his +neighbours. He wanted to be a great man as well as a rich one. He +wanted admiration and flattery, reverence and esteem; not from poor +people, whose esteem and admiration were scarcely worth having, but +from wealthy squires, his equals or his superiors by birth and fortune. +He ground his teeth at the thought of his disgrace. He had drunk of the +cup of triumph, and had tasted the very wine of life; and at the moment +when that cup was fullest, it had been snatched away from him by the +ruthless hand of his enemy. + +Christmas came, and gave Paul Marchmont a good opportunity of playing +the country gentleman of the olden time. What was the cost of a couple +of bullocks, a few hogsheads of ale, and a waggon-load of coals, if by +such a sacrifice the master of the Towers could secure for himself the +admiration due to a public benefactor? Paul gave _carte blanche_ to the +old servants; and tents were erected on the lawn, and monstrous +bonfires blazed briskly in the frosty air; while the populace, who +would have accepted the bounties of a new Nero fresh from the burning +of a modern Rome, drank to the health of their benefactor, and warmed +themselves by the unlimited consumption of strong beer. + +Mrs. Marchmont and her invalid daughter assisted Paul in his attempt to +regain the popularity he had lost upon the steps of the western +terrace. The two women distributed square miles of flannel and +blanketing amongst greedy claimants; they gave scarlet cloaks and +poke-bonnets to old women; they gave an insipid feast, upon temperance +principles, to the children of the National Schools. And they had their +reward; for people began to say that this Paul Marchmont was a very +noble fellow, after all, by Jove, sir and that fellow Arundel must have +been in the wrong, sir; and no doubt Marchmont had his own reasons for +not resenting the outrage, sir; and a great deal more to the like +effect. + +After this roasting of the two bullocks the wind changed altogether. +Mr. Marchmont gave a great dinner-party upon New-Year's Day. He sent +out thirty invitations, and had only two refusals. So the long +dining-room was filled with all the notabilities of the district, and +Paul held his head up once more, and rejoiced in his own grandeur. +After all, one horsewhipping cannot annihilate a man with a fine estate +and eleven thousand a year, if he knows how to make a splash with his +money. + +Olivia Marchmont shared in none of the festivals that were held. Her +father was very ill this winter; and she spent a good deal of her time +at Swampington Rectory, sitting in Hubert Arundel's room, and reading +to him. But her presence brought very little comfort to the sick man; +for there was something in his daughter's manner that filled him with +inexpressible terror; and he would lie for hours together watching her +blank face, and wondering at its horrible rigidity. What was it? What +was the dreadful secret which had transformed this woman? He tormented +himself perpetually with this question, but he could imagine no answer +to it. He did not know the power which a master-passion has upon these +strong-minded women, whose minds are strong because of their +narrowness, and who are the bonden slaves of one idea. He did not know +that in a breast which holds no pure affection the master-fiend Passion +rages like an all-devouring flame, perpetually consuming its victim. He +did not know that in these violent and concentrative natures the line +that separates reason from madness is so feeble a demarcation, that +very few can perceive the hour in which it is passed. + +Olivia Marchmont had never been the most lively or delightful of +companions. The tenderness which is the common attribute of a woman's +nature had not been given to her. She ought to have been a great man. +Nature makes these mistakes now and then, and the victim expiates the +error. Hence comes such imperfect histories as that of English +Elizabeth and Swedish Christina. The fetters that had bound Olivia's +narrow life had eaten into her very soul, and cankered there. If she +could have been Edward Arundel's wife, she would have been the noblest +and truest wife that ever merged her identity into that of another, and +lived upon the refracted glory of her husband's triumphs. She would +have been a Rachel Russell, a Mrs. Hutchinson, a Lady Nithisdale, a +Madame de Lavalette. She would have been great by reason of her power +of self-abnegation; and there would have been a strange charm in the +aspect of this fierce nature attuned to harmonise with its master's +soul, all the barbaric discords melting into melody, all the harsh +combinations softening into perfect music; just as in Mr. Buckstone's +most poetic drama we are bewitched by the wild huntress sitting at the +feet of her lord, and admire her chiefly because we know that only that +one man upon all the earth could have had power to tame her. To any one +who had known Olivia's secret, there could have been no sadder +spectacle than this of her decay. The mind and body decayed together, +bound by a mysterious sympathy. All womanly roundness disappeared from +the spare figure, and Mrs. Marchmont's black dresses hung about her in +loose folds. Her long, dead, black hair was pushed away from her thin +face, and twisted into a heavy knot at the back of her head. Every +charm that she had ever possessed was gone. The oldest women generally +retain some traits of their lost beauty, some faint reflection of the +sun that has gone down, to light up the soft twilight of age, and even +glimmer through the gloom of death. But this woman's face retained no +token of the past. No empty hull, with shattered bulwarks crumbled by +the fury of fierce seas, cast on a desert shore to rot and perish +there, was ever more complete a wreck than she was. Upon her face and +figure, in every look and gesture, in the tone of every word she spoke, +there was an awful something, worse than the seal of death. Little by +little the miserable truth dawned upon Hubert Arundel. His daughter was +mad! He knew this; but he kept the dreadful knowledge hidden in his own +breast,--a hideous secret, whose weight oppressed him like an actual +burden. He kept the secret; for it would have seemed to him the most +cruel treason against his daughter to have confessed his discovery to +any living creature, unless it should be absolutely necessary to do so. +Meanwhile he set himself to watch Olivia, detaining her at the Rectory +for a week together, in order that he might see her in all moods, under +all phases. + +He found that there were no violent or outrageous evidences of this +mental decay. The mind had given way under the perpetual pressure of +one set of thoughts. Hubert Arundel, in his ignorance of his daughter's +secrets, could not discover the cause of her decadence; but that cause +was very simple. If the body is a wonderful and complex machine which +must not be tampered with, surely that still more complex machine the +mind must need careful treatment. If such and such a course of diet is +fatal to the body's health, may not some thoughts be equally fatal to +the health of the brain? may not a monotonous recurrence of the same +ideas be above all injurious? If by reason of the peculiar nature of a +man's labour, he uses one limb or one muscle more than the rest, +strange bosses rise up to testify to that ill usage, the idle limbs +wither, and the harmonious perfection of Nature gives place to +deformity. So the brain, perpetually pressed upon, for ever strained to +its utmost tension by the wearisome succession of thoughts, becomes +crooked and one-sided, always leaning one way, continually tripping up +the wretched thinker. + +John Marchmont's widow had only one set of ideas. On every subject but +that one which involved Edward Arundel and his fortunes her memory had +decayed. She asked her father the same questions--commonplace questions +relating to his own comfort, or to simple household matters, twenty +times a day, always forgetting that he had answered her. She had that +impatience as to the passage of time which is one of the most painful +signs of madness. She looked at her watch ten times an hour, and would +wander out into the cheerless garden, indifferent to the bitter +weather, in order to look at the clock in the church-steeple, under the +impression that her own watch, and her father's, and all the +time-keepers in the house, were slow. + +She was sometimes restless, taking up one occupation after another, to +throw all aside with equal impatience, and sometimes immobile for hours +together. But as she was never violent, never in any way unreasonable, +Hubert Arundel had not the heart to call science to his aid, and to +betray her secret. The thought that his daughter's malady might be +cured never entered his mind as within the range of possibility. There +was nothing to cure; no delusions to be exorcised by medical treatment; +no violent vagaries to be held in check by drugs and nostrums. The +powerful intellect had decayed; its force and clearness were gone. No +drugs that ever grew upon this earth could restore that which was lost. + +This was the conviction which kept the Rector silent. It would have +given him unutterable anguish to have told his daughter's secret to any +living being; but he would have endured that misery if she could have +been benefitted thereby. He most firmly believed that she could not, +and that her state was irremediable. + +"My poor girl!" he thought to himself; "how proud I was of her ten +years ago! I can do nothing for her; nothing except to love and cherish +her, and hide her humiliation from the world." + +But Hubert Arundel was not allowed to do even this much for the +daughter he loved; for when Olivia had been with him a little more than +a week, Paul Marchmont and his mother drove over to Swampington Rectory +one morning and carried her away with them. The Rector then saw for the +first time that his once strong-minded daughter was completely under +the dominion of these two people, and that they knew the nature of her +malady quite as well as he did. He resisted her return to the Towers; +but his resistance was useless. She submitted herself willingly to her +new friends, declaring that she was better in their house than anywhere +else. So she went back to her old suite of apartments, and her old +servant Barbara waited upon her; and she sat alone in dead John +Marchmont's study, listening to the January winds shrieking in the +quadrangle, the distant rooks calling to each other amongst the bare +branches of the poplars, the banging of the doors in the corridor, and +occasional gusts of laughter from the open door of the +dining-room,--while Paul Marchmont and his guests gave a jovial welcome +to the new year. + +While the master of the Towers re-asserted his grandeur, and made +stupendous efforts to regain the ground he had lost, Edward Arundel +wandered far away in the depths of Brittany, travelling on foot, and +making himself familiar with the simple peasants, who were ignorant of +his troubles. He had sent Mr. Morrison down to Dangerfield with the +greater part of his luggage; but he had not the heart to go back +himself--yet awhile. He was afraid of his mother's sympathy, and he +went away into the lonely Breton villages, to try and cure himself of +his great grief, before he began life again as a soldier. It was +useless for him to strive against his vocation. Nature had made him a +soldier, and nothing else; and wherever there was a good cause to be +fought for, his place was on the battle-field. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +MISS LAWFORD SPEAKS HER MIND. + + +Major Lawford and his blue-eyed daughters were not amongst those guests +who accepted Paul Marchmont's princely hospitalities. Belinda Lawford +had never heard the story of Edward's lost bride as he himself could +have told it; but she had heard an imperfect version of the sorrowful +history from Letitia, and that young lady had informed her friend of +Edward's animus against the new master of the Towers. + +"The poor dear foolish boy will insist upon thinking that Mr. Marchmont +was at the bottom of it all," she had said in a confidential chat with +Belinda, "somehow or other; but whether he was, or whether he wasn't, +I'm sure I can't say. But if one attempts to take Mr. Marchmont's part +with Edward, he does get so violent and go on so, that one's obliged to +say all sorts of dreadful things about Mary's cousin for the sake of +peace. But really, when I saw him one day in Kemberling, with a black +velvet shooting-coat, and his beautiful smooth white hair and auburn +moustache, I thought him most interesting. And so would you, Belinda, +if you weren't so wrapped up in that doleful brother of mine." + +Whereupon, of course, Miss Lawford had been compelled to declare that +she was not "wrapped up" in Edward, whatever state of feeling that +obscure phrase might signify; and to express, by the vehemence of her +denial, that, if anything, she rather detested Miss Arundel's brother. +By-the-by, did you ever know a young lady who could understand the +admiration aroused in the breast of other young ladies for that most +uninteresting object, a _brother_? Or a gentleman who could enter with +any warmth of sympathy into his friend's feelings respecting the auburn +tresses or the Grecian nose of "a sister"? Belinda Lawford, I say, knew +something of the story of Mary Arundel's death, and she implored her +father to reject all hospitalities offered by Paul Marchmont. + +"You won't go to the Towers, papa dear?" she said, with her hands +clasped upon her father's arm, her cheeks kindling, and her eyes +filling with tears as she spoke to him; "you won't go and sit at Paul +Marchmont's table, and drink his wine, and shake hands with him? I know +that he had something to do with Mary Arundel's death. He had indeed, +papa. I don't mean anything that the world calls crime; I don't mean +any act of open violence. But he was cruel to her, papa; he was cruel +to her. He tortured her and tormented her until she--" The girl paused +for a moment, and her voice faltered a little. "Oh, how I wish that I +had known her, papa," she cried presently, "that I might have stood by +her, and comforted her, all through that sad time!" + +The Major looked down at his daughter with a tender smile,--a smile +that was a little significant, perhaps, but full of love and +admiration. + +"You would have stood by Arundel's poor little wife, my dear?" he said. +"You would stand by her _now_, if she were alive, and needed your +friendship?" + +"I would indeed, papa," Miss Lawford answered resolutely. + +"I believe it, my dear; I believe it with all my heart. You are a good +girl, my Linda; you are a noble girl. You are as good as a son to me, +my dear." + +Major Lawford was silent for a few moments, holding his daughter in his +arms and pressing his lips upon her broad forehead. + +"You are fit to be a soldier's daughter, my darling," he said, "or--or +a soldier's wife." + +He kissed her once more, and then left her, sighing thoughtfully as he +went away. + +This is how it was that neither Major Lawford nor any of his family +were present at those splendid entertainments which Paul Marchmont gave +to his new friends. Mr. Marchmont knew almost as well as the Lawfords +themselves why they did not come, and the absence of them at his +glittering board made his bread bitter to him and his wine tasteless. +He wanted these people as much as the others,--more than the others, +perhaps, for they had been Edward Arundel's friends; and he wanted them +to turn their backs upon the young man, and join in the general outcry +against his violence and brutality. The absence of Major Lawford at the +lighted banquet-table tormented this modern rich man as the presence of +Mordecai at the gate tormented Haman. It was not enough that all the +others should come if these stayed away, and by their absence tacitly +testified to their contempt for the master of the Towers. + +He met Belinda sometimes on horseback with the old grey-headed groom +behind her, a fearless young amazon, breasting the January winds, with +her blue eyes sparkling, and her auburn hair blowing away from her +candid face: he met her, and looked out at her from the luxurious +barouche in which it was his pleasure to loll by his mother's side, +half-buried amongst soft furry rugs and sleek leopard-skins, making the +chilly atmosphere through which he rode odorous with the scent of +perfumed hair, and smiling over cruelly delicious criticisms in +newly-cut reviews. He looked out at this fearless girl whose friends so +obstinately stood by Edward Arundel; and the cold contempt upon Miss +Lawford's face cut him more keenly than the sharpest wind of that +bitter January. + +Then he took counsel with his womankind; not telling them his thoughts, +fears, doubts, or wishes--it was not his habit to do that--but taking +_their_ ideas, and only telling them so much as it was necessary for +them to know in order that they might be useful to him. Paul +Marchmont's life was regulated by a few rules, so simple that a child +might have learned them; indeed I regret to say that some children are +very apt pupils in that school of philosophy to which the master of +Marchmont Towers belonged, and cause astonishment to their elders by +the precocity of their intelligence. Mr. Marchmont might have inscribed +upon a very small scrap of parchment the moral maxims by which he +regulated his dealings with mankind. + +"Always conciliate," said this philosopher. "Never tell an unnecessary +lie. Be agreeable and generous to those who serve you. N.B. No good +carpenter would allow his tools to get rusty. Make yourself master of +the opinions of others, but hold your own tongue. Seek to obtain the +maximum of enjoyment with the minimum of risk." + +Such golden saws as these did Mr. Marchmont make for his own especial +guidance; and he hoped to pass smoothly onwards upon the railway of +life, riding in a first-class carriage, on the greased wheels of a very +easy conscience. As for any unfortunate fellow-travellers pitched out +of the carriage-window in the course of the journey, or left lonely and +helpless at desolate stations on the way, Providence, and not Mr. +Marchmont, was responsible for _their_ welfare. Paul had a high +appreciation of Providence, and was fond of talking--very piously, as +some people said; very impiously, as others secretly thought--about the +inestimable Wisdom which governed all the affairs of this lower world. +Nowhere, according to the artist, had the hand of Providence been more +clearly visible than in this matter about Paul's poor little cousin +Mary. If Providence had intended John Marchmont's daughter to be a +happy bride, a happy wife, the prosperous mistress of that stately +habitation, why all that sad business of old Mr. Arundel's sudden +illness, Edward's hurried journey, the railway accident, and all the +complications that had thereupon arisen? Nothing would have been easier +than for Providence to have prevented all this; and then he, Paul, +would have been still in Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square, patiently +waiting for a friendly lift upon the high-road of life. Nobody could +say that he had ever been otherwise than patient. Nobody could say that +he had ever intruded himself upon his rich cousins at the Towers, or +had been heard to speculate upon his possible inheritance of the +estate; or that he had, in short, done any thing but that which the +best, truest, most conscientious and disinterested of mankind should +do. + +In the course of that bleak, frosty January, Mr. Marchmont sent his +mother and his sister Lavinia to make a call at the Grange. The Grange +people had never called upon Mrs. Marchmont; but Paul did not allow any +flimsy ceremonial law to stand in his way when he had a purpose to +achieve. So the ladies went to the Grange, and were politely received; +for Miss Lawford and her mother were a great deal too innocent and +noble-minded to imagine that these pale-faced, delicate-looking women +could have had any part, either directly or indirectly, in that cruel +treatment which had driven Edward's young wife from her home. Mrs. +Marchmont and Mrs. Weston were kindly received, therefore; and in a +little conversation with Belinda about birds, and dahlias, and worsted +work, and the most innocent subjects imaginable, the wily Lavinia +contrived to lead up to Miss Letitia Arundel, and thence, by the +easiest conversational short-cut, to Edward and his lost wife. Mrs. +Weston was obliged to bring her cambric handkerchief out of her muff +when she talked about her cousin Mary; but she was a clever woman, and +she had taken to heart Paul's pet maxim about the folly of +_unnecessary_ lies; and she was so candid as to entirely disarm Miss +Lawford, who had a schoolgirlish notion that every kind of hypocrisy +and falsehood was outwardly visible in a servile and slavish manner. +She was not upon her guard against those practised adepts in the art of +deception, who have learnt to make that subtle admixture of truth and +falsehood which defies detection; like some fabrics in whose woof silk +and cotton are so cunningly blended that only a practised eye can +discover the inferior material. + +So when Lavinia dried her eyes and put her handkerchief back in her +muff, and said, betwixt laughing and crying,-- + +"Now you know, my dear Miss Lawford, you mustn't think that I would for +a moment pretend to be sorry that my brother has come into this +fortune. Of course any such pretence as that would be ridiculous, and +quite useless into the bargain, as it isn't likely anybody would +believe me. Paul is a dear, kind creature, the best of brothers, the +most affectionate of sons, and deserves any good fortune that could +fall to his lot; but I am truly sorry for that poor little girl. I am +truly sorry, believe me, Miss Lawford; and I only regret that Mr. +Weston and I did not come to Kemberling sooner, so that I might have +been a friend to the poor little thing; for then, you know, I might +have prevented that foolish runaway match, out of which almost all the +poor child's troubles arose. Yes, Miss Lawford; I wish I had been able +to befriend that unhappy child, although by my so doing Paul would have +been kept out of the fortune he now enjoys--for some time, at any rate. +I say for some time, because I do not believe that Mary Marchmont would +have lived to be old, under the happiest circumstances. Her mother died +very young; and her father, and her father's father, were consumptive." + +Then Mrs. Weston took occasion, incidentally of course, to allude to +her brother's goodness; but even then she was on her guard, and took +care not to say too much. + +"The worst actors are those who over-act their parts." That was another +of Paul Marchmont's golden maxims. + +"I don't know what my brother may be to the rest of the world," Lavinia +said; "but I know how good he is to those who belong to him. I should +be ashamed to tell you all he has done for Mr. Weston and me. He gave +me this cashmere shawl at the beginning of the winter, and a set of +sables fit for a duchess; though I told him they were not at all the +thing for a village surgeon's wife, who keeps only one servant, and +dusts her own best parlour." + +And Mrs. Marchmont talked of her son; with no loud enthusiasm, but with +a tone of quiet conviction that was worth any money to Paul. To have an +innocent person, some one not in the secret, to play a small part in +the comedy of his life, was a desideratum with the artist. His mother +had always been this person, this unconscious performer, instinctively +falling into the action of the play, and shedding real tears, and +smiling actual smiles,--the most useful assistant to a great schemer. + +But during the whole of the visit nothing was said as to Paul's conduct +towards his unhappy cousin; nothing was said either to praise or to +exculpate; and when Mrs. Marchmont and her daughter drove away, in one +of the new equipages which Paul had selected for his mother, they left +only a vague impression in Belinda's breast. She didn't quite know what +to think. These people were so frank and candid, they had spoken of +Paul with such real affection, that it was almost impossible to doubt +them. Paul Marchmont might be a bad man, but his mother and sister +loved him, and surely they were ignorant of his wickedness. + +Mrs. Lawford troubled herself very little about this unexpected morning +call. She was an excellent, warm-hearted, domestic creature, and +thought a great deal more about the grand question as to whether she +should have new damask curtains for the drawing-room, or send the old +ones to be dyed; or whether she should withdraw her custom from the +Kemberling grocer, whose "best black" at four-and-sixpence was really +now so very inferior; or whether Belinda's summer silk dress could be +cut down into a frock for Isabella to wear in the winter +evenings,--than about the rights or wrongs of that story of the +horsewhipping which had been administered to Mr. Marchmont. + +"I'm sure those Marchmont-Towers people seem very nice, my dear," the +lady said to Belinda; "and I really wish your papa would go and dine +there. You know I like him to dine out a good deal in the winter, +Linda; not that I want to save the housekeeping money,--only it is so +difficult to vary the side-dishes for a man who has been accustomed to +mess-dinners, and a French cook." + +But Belinda stuck fast to her colours. She was a soldier's daughter, as +her father said, and she was almost as good as a son. The Major meant +this latter remark for very high praise; for the great grief of his +life had been the want of a boy's brave face at his fireside. She was +as good as a son; that is to say, she was braver and more outspoken +than most women; although she was feminine and gentle withal, and by no +means strong-minded. She would have fainted, perhaps, at the first +sight of blood upon a battle-field; but she would have bled to death +with the calm heroism of a martyr, rather than have been false to a +noble cause. + +"I think papa is quite right not to go to Marchmont Towers, mamma," she +said; the artful minx omitted to state that it was by reason of her +entreaties her father had stayed away. "I think he is quite right. Mrs. +Marchmont and Mrs. Weston may be very nice, and of course it isn't +likely _they_ would be cruel to poor young Mrs. Arundel; but I _know_ +that Mr. Marchmont must have been unkind to that poor girl, or Mr. +Arundel would never have done what he did." + +It is in the nature of good and brave men to lay down their masculine +rights when they leave their hats in the hall, and to submit themselves +meekly to feminine government. It is only the whippersnapper, the +sneak, the coward out of doors who is a tyrant at home. See how meekly +the Conqueror of Italy went home to his charming Creole wife! See how +pleasantly the Liberator of Italy lolls in the carriage of his +golden-haired Empress, when the young trees in that fair wood beyond +the triumphal arch are green in the bright spring weather, and all the +hired vehicles in Paris are making towards the cascade! Major Lawford's +wife was too gentle, and too busy with her store-room and her domestic +cares, to tyrannise over her lord and master; but the Major was duly +henpecked by his blue-eyed daughters, and went here and there as they +dictated. + +So he stayed away from Marchmont Towers to please Belinda; and only +said, "Haw," "Yes," "'Pon my honour, now!" "Bless my soul!" when his +friends told him of the magnificence of Paul's dinners. + +But although the Major and his eldest daughter did not encounter Mr. +Marchmont in his own house, they met him sometimes on the neutral +ground of other people's dining-rooms, and upon one especial evening at +a pleasant little dinner-party given by the rector of the parish in +which the Grange was situated. + +Paul made himself particularly agreeable upon this occasion; but in the +brief interval before dinner he was absorbed in a conversation with Mr. +Davenant, the rector, upon the subject of ecclesiastical +architecture,--he knew everything, and could talk about everything, +this dear Paul,--and made no attempt to approach Miss Lawford. He only +looked at her now and then, with a furtive, oblique glance out of his +almond-shaped, pale-grey eyes; a glance that was wisely hidden by the +light auburn lashes, for it had an unpleasant resemblance to the leer +of an evil-natured sprite. Mr. Marchmont contented himself with keeping +this furtive watch upon Belinda, while she talked gaily with the +Rector's two daughters in a pleasant corner near the piano. And as the +artist took Mrs. Davenant down to the dining-room, and sat next her at +dinner, he had no opportunity of fraternising with Belinda during that +meal; for the young lady was divided from him by the whole length of +the table and, moreover, very much occupied by the exclusive attentions +of two callow-looking officers from the nearest garrison-town, who were +afflicted with extreme youth, and were painfully conscious of their +degraded state, but tried notwithstanding to carry it off with a high +hand, and affected the opinions of used-up fifty. + +Mr. Marchmont had none of his womankind with him at this dinner; for +his mother and invalid sister had neither of them felt strong enough to +come, and Mr. and Mrs. Weston had not been invited. The artist's +special object in coming to this dinner was the conquest of Miss +Belinda Lawford: she sided with Edward Arundel against him: she must be +made to believe Edward wrong, and himself right; or she might go about +spreading her opinions, and doing him mischief. Beyond that, he had +another idea about Belinda; and he looked to this dinner as likely to +afford him an opportunity of laying the foundation of a very diplomatic +scheme, in which Miss Lawford should unconsciously become his tool. He +was vexed at being placed apart from her at the dinner-table, but he +concealed his vexation; and he was aggravated by the Rector's +old-fashioned hospitality, which detained the gentlemen over their wine +for some time after the ladies left the dining-room. But the +opportunity that he wanted came nevertheless, and in a manner that he +had not anticipated. + +The two callow defenders of their country had sneaked out of the +dining-room, and rejoined the ladies in the cosy countrified +drawing-rooms. They had stolen away, these two young men; for they were +oppressed by the weight of a fearful secret. _They couldn't drink +claret!_ No; they had tried to like it; they had smacked their lips and +winked their eyes--both at once, for even winking with _one_ eye is an +accomplishment scarcely compatible with extreme youth--over vintages +that had seemed to them like a happy admixture of red ink and +green-gooseberry juice. They had perjured their boyish souls with +hideous falsehoods as to their appreciation of pale tawny port, light +dry wines, '42-ports, '45-ports, Kopke Roriz, Thompson and Croft's, and +Sandemann's; when, in the secret recesses of their minds, they affected +sweet and "slab" compounds, sold by publicans, and facetiously called +"Our prime old port, at four-and-sixpence." They were very young, these +beardless soldiers. They liked strawberry ices, and were on the verge +of insolvency from a predilection for clammy bath-buns, jam-tarts, and +cherry-brandy. They liked gorgeous waistcoats; and varnished boots in a +state of virgin brilliancy; and little bouquets in their button-holes; +and a deluge of _millefleurs_ upon their flimsy handkerchiefs. They +were very young. The men they met at dinner-parties to-day had tipped +them at Eton or Woolwich only yesterday, as it seemed, and remembered +it and despised them. It was only a few months since they had been +snubbed for calling the Douro a mountain in Switzerland, and the +Himalayas a cluster of islands in the Pacific, at horrible +examinations, in which the cold perspiration had bedewed their pallid +young cheeks. They were delighted to get away from those elderly +creatures in the Rector's dining-room to the snug little back +drawing-room, where Belinda Lawford and the two Misses Davenant were +murmuring softly in the firelight, like young turtles in a sheltered +dove-cote; while the matrons in the larger apartment sipped their +coffee, and conversed in low awful voices about the iniquities of +housemaids, and the insubordination of gardeners and grooms. + +Belinda and her two companions were very polite to the helpless young +wanderers from the dining-room; and they talked pleasantly enough of +all manner of things; until somehow or other the conversation came +round to the Marchmont-Towers scandal, and Edward's treatment of his +lost wife's kinsman. + +One of the young men had been present at the hunting-breakfast on that +bright October morning, and he was not a little proud of his superior +acquaintance with the whole business. + +"I was the-aw, Miss Lawford," he said. "I was on the tew-wace after +bweakfast,--and a vewy excellent bweakfast it was, I ass-haw you; the +still Moselle was weally admiwable, and Marchmont has some Medewa that +immeasuwably surpasses anything I can indooce my wine-merchant to send +me;--I was on the tew-wace, and I saw Awundel comin' up the steps, +awful pale, and gwasping his whip; and I was a witness of all the west +that occurred; and if I had been Marchmont I should have shot Awundel +befaw he left the pawk, if I'd had to swing for it, Miss Lawford; for I +should have felt, b'Jove, that my own sense of honaw demanded the +sacwifice. Howevaw, Marchmont seems a vewy good fella; so I suppose +it's all wight as far as he goes; but it was a bwutal business +altogethaw, and that fella Awundel must be a scoundwel." + +Belinda could not bear this. She had borne a great deal already. She +had been obliged to sit by very often, and hear Edward Arundel's +conduct discussed by Thomas, Richard, and Henry, or anybody else who +chose to talk about it; and she had been patient, and had held her +peace, with her heart bumping indignantly in her breast, and passionate +crimson blushes burning her cheeks. But she could _not_ submit to hear +a beardless, pale-faced, and rather weak-eyed young ensign--who had +never done any greater service for his Queen and country than to cry +"SHUDDRUPH!" to a detachment of raw recruits in a barrack-yard, in the +early bleakness of a winter's morning--take upon himself to blame +Edward Arundel, the brave soldier, the noble Indian hero, the devoted +lover and husband, the valiant avenger of his dead wife's wrongs. + +"I don't think you know anything of the real story, Mr. Palliser," +Belinda said boldly to the half-fledged ensign. "If you did, I'm sure +you would admire Mr. Arundel's conduct instead of blaming it. Mr. +Marchmont fully deserved the disgrace which Edward--which Mr. Arundel +inflicted upon him." + +The words were still upon her lips, when Paul Marchmont himself came +softly through the flickering firelight to the low chair upon which +Belinda sat. He came behind her, and laying his hand lightly upon the +scroll-work at the back of her chair, bent over her, and said, in a low +confidential voice,-- + +"You are a noble girl, Miss Lawford. I am sorry that you should think +ill of me: but I like you for having spoken so frankly. You are a most +noble girl. You are worthy to be your father's daughter." + +This was said with a tone of suppressed emotion; but it was quite a +random shot. Paul didn't know anything about the Major, except that he +had a comfortable income, drove a neat dog-cart, and was often seen +riding on the flat Lincolnshire roads with his eldest daughter. For all +Paul knew to the contrary, Major Lawford might have been the veriest +bully and coward who ever made those about him miserable; but Mr. +Marchmont's tone as good as expressed that he was intimately acquainted +with the old soldier's career, and had long admired and loved him. It +was one of Paul's happy inspirations, this allusion to Belinda's +father; one of those bright touches of colour laid on with a skilful +recklessness, and giving sudden brightness to the whole picture; a +little spot of vermilion dabbed upon the canvas with the point of the +palette-knife, and lighting up all the landscape with sunshine. + +"You know my father?" said Belinda, surprised. + +"Who does not know him?" cried the artist. "Do you think, Miss Lawford, +that it is necessary to sit at a man's dinner-table before you know +what he is? I know your father to be a good man and a brave soldier, as +well as I know that the Duke of Wellington is a great general, though I +never dined at Apsley House. I respect your father, Miss Lawford; and I +have been very much distressed by his evident avoidance of me and +mine." + +This was coming to the point at once. Mr. Marchmont's manner was +candour itself. Belinda looked at him with widely-opened, wondering +eyes. She was looking for the evidence of his wickedness in his face. I +think she half-expected that Mr. Marchmont would have corked eyebrows, +and a slouched hat, like a stage ruffian. She was so innocent, this +simple young Belinda, that she imagined wicked people must necessarily +look wicked. + +Paul Marchmont saw the wavering of her mind in that half-puzzled +expression, and he went on boldly. + +"I like your father, Miss Lawford," he said; "I like him, and I respect +him; and I want to know him. Other people may misunderstand me, if they +please. I can't help their opinions. The truth is generally strongest +in the end; and I can afford to wait. But I can_not_ afford to forfeit +the friendship of a man I esteem; I cannot afford to be misunderstood +by your father, Miss Lawford; and I have been very much pained--yes, +very much pained--by the manner in which the Major has repelled my +little attempts at friendliness." + +Belinda's heart smote her. She knew that it was her influence that had +kept her father away from Marchmont Towers. This young lady was very +conscientious. She was a Christian, too; and a certain sentence +touching wrongful judgments rose up against her while Mr. Marchmont was +speaking. If she had wronged this man; if Edward Arundel has been +misled by his passionate grief for Mary; if she had been deluded by +Edward's error,--how very badly Mr. Marchmont had been treated between +them! She didn't say anything, but sat looking thoughtfully at the +fire; and Paul saw that she was more and more perplexed. This was just +what the artist wanted. To talk his antagonist into a state of +intellectual fog was almost always his manner of commencing an +argument. + +Belinda was silent, and Paul seated himself in a chair close to hers. +The callow ensigns had gone into the lamp-lit front drawing-room, and +were busy turning over the leaves--and never turning them over at the +right moment--of a thundering duet which the Misses Davenant were +performing for the edification of their papa's visitors. Miss Lawford +and Mr. Marchmont were alone, therefore, in that cosy inner chamber, +and a very pretty picture they made: the rosy-cheeked girl and the +pale, sentimental-looking artist sitting side by side in the glow of +the low fire, with a background of crimson curtains and gleaming +picture-frames; winter flowers piled in grim Indian jars; the fitful +light flickering now and then upon one sharp angle of the high carved +mantelpiece, with all its litter of antique china; and the rest of the +room in sombre shadow. Paul had the field all to himself, and felt that +victory would be easy. He began to talk about Edward Arundel. + +If he had said one word against the young soldier, I think this +impetuous girl, who had not yet learned to count the cost of what she +did, would have been passionately eloquent in defence of her friend's +brother--for no other reason than that he was the brother of her +friend, of course; what other reason should she have for defending Mr. +Arundel? + +But Paul Marchmont did not give her any occasion for indignation. On +the contrary, he spoke in praise of the hot-headed young soldier who +had assaulted him, making all manner of excuses for the young man's +violence, and using that tone of calm superiority with which a man of +the world might naturally talk about a foolish boy. + +"He has been very unreasonable, Miss Lawford," Paul said by-and-by; "he +has been very unreasonable, and has most grossly insulted me. But, in +spite of all, I believe him to be a very noble young fellow, and I +cannot find it in my heart to be really angry with him. What his +particular grievance against me may be, I really do not know." + +The furtive glance from the long narrow grey eyes kept close watch upon +Belinda's face as Paul said this. Mr. Marchmont wanted to ascertain +exactly how much Belinda knew of that grievance of Edward's; but he +could see only perplexity in her face. She knew nothing definite, +therefore; she had only heard Edward talk vaguely of his wrongs. Paul +Marchmont was convinced of this; and he went on boldly now, for he felt +that the ground was all clear before him. + +"This foolish young soldier chooses to be angry with me because of a +calamity which I was as powerless to avert, as to prevent that accident +upon the South-Western Railway by which Mr. Arundel so nearly lost his +life. I cannot tell you how sincerely I regret the misconception that +has arisen in his mind. Because I have profited by the death of John +Marchmont's daughter, this impetuous young husband imagines--what? I +cannot answer that question; nor can he himself, it seems, since he has +made no definite statement of his wrongs to any living being." + +The artist looked more sharply than ever at Belinda's listening face. +There was no change in its expression; the same wondering look, the +same perplexity,--that was all. + +"When I say that I regret the young man's folly, Miss Lawford," Paul +continued, "believe me, it is chiefly on his account rather than my +own. Any insult which he can inflict upon me can only rebound upon +himself, since everybody in Lincolnshire knows that I am in the right, +and he in the wrong." + +Mr. Marchmont was going on very smoothly; but at this point Miss +Lawford, who had by no means deserted her colours, interrupted his easy +progress. + +"It remains to be proved who is right and who wrong, Mr. Marchmont," +she said. "Mr. Arundel is the brother of my friend. I cannot easily +believe him to have done wrong." + +Paul looked at her with a smile--a smile that brought hot blushes to +her face; but she returned his look without flinching. The brave girl +looked full into the narrow grey eyes sheltered under pale auburn +lashes, and her steadfast gaze did not waver. + +"Ah, Miss Lawford," said the artist, still smiling, "when a young man +is handsome, chivalrous, and generous-hearted, it is very difficult to +convince a woman that he can do wrong. Edward Arundel has done wrong. +His ultra-quixotism has made him blind to the folly of his own acts. I +can afford to forgive him. But I repeat that I regret his infatuation +about this poor lost girl far more upon his account than on my own; for +I know--at least I venture to think--that a way lies open to him of a +happier and a better life than he could ever have known with my poor +childish cousin Mary Marchmont. I have reason to know that he has +formed another attachment, and that it is only a chivalrous delusion +about that poor girl--whom he was never really in love with, and whom +he only married because of some romantic notion inspired by my cousin +John--that withholds him from that other and brighter prospect." + +He was silent for a few moments, and then he said hastily,-- + +"Pardon me, Miss Lawford; I have been betrayed into saying much that I +had better have left unsaid, more especially to you. I----" + +He hesitated a little, as if embarrassed; and then rose and looked into +the next room, where the duet had been followed by a solo. + +One of the Rector's daughters came towards the inner drawing-room, +followed by a callow ensign. + +"We want Belinda to sing," exclaimed Miss Davenant. "We want you to +sing, you tiresome Belinda, instead of hiding yourself in that dark +room all the evening." + +Belinda came out of the darkness, with her cheeks flushed and her +eyelids drooping. Her heart was beating so fast as to make it quite +impossible to speak just yet, or to sing either. But she sat down +before the piano, and, with hands that trembled in spite of herself, +began to play one of her pet sonatas. + +Unhappily, Beethoven requires precision of touch in the pianist who is +bold enough to seek to interpret him; and upon this occasion I am +compelled to admit that Miss Lawford's fingering was eccentric, not to +say ridiculous,--in common parlance, she made a mess of it; and just as +she was going to break down, friendly Clara Davenant cried out,-- + +"That won't do, Belinda! We want you to sing, not to play. You are +trying to cheat us. We would rather have one of Moore's melodies than +all Beethoven's sonatas." + +So Miss Lawford, still blushing, with her eyelids still drooping, +played Sir John Stevenson's simple symphony, and in a fresh swelling +voice, that filled the room with melody, began: + + "Oh, the days are gone when beauty bright + My heart's chain wove; + When my dream of life, from morn till night, + Was love, still love!" + +And Paul Marchmont, sitting at the other end of the room turning over +Miss Davenant's scrap-book, looked up through his auburn lashes, and +smiled at the beaming face of the singer. He felt that he had improved +the occasion. + +"I am not afraid of Miss Lawford now," he thought to himself. + +This candid, fervent girl was only another piece in the schemer's game +of chess; and he saw a way of making her useful in the attainment of +that great end which, in the strange simplicity of cunning, he believed +to be the one purpose of _every_ man's life,--Self-Aggrandisement. + +It never for a moment entered into his mind that Edward Arundel was any +more _real_ than he was himself. There can be no perfect comprehension +where there is no sympathy. Paul believed that Edward had tried to +become master of Mary Marchmont's heritage; and had failed; and was +angry because of his failure. He believed this passionate young man to +be a schemer like himself; only a little more impetuous and blundering +in his manner of going to work. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE RETURN OF THE WANDERER. + + +The March winds were blowing amongst the oaks in Dangerfield Park, when +Edward Arundel went back to the house which had never been his home +since his boyhood. He went back because he had grown weary of lonely +wanderings in that strange Breton country. He had grown weary of +himself and of his own thoughts. He was worn out by the eager desire +that devoured him by day and by night,--the passionate yearning to be +far away beyond that low Eastern horizon line; away amid the carnage +and riot of an Indian battle-field. + +So he went back at last to his mother, who had written to him again and +again, imploring him to return to her, and to rest, and to be happy in +the familiar household where he was beloved. He left his luggage at the +little inn where the coach that had brought him from Exeter stopped, +and then he walked quietly homewards in the gloaming. The early spring +evening was bleak and chill. The blacksmith's fire roared at him as he +went by the smithy. All the lights in the queer latticed windows +twinkled and blinked at him, as if in friendly welcome to the wanderer. +He remembered them all: the quaint, misshapen, lopsided roofs; the +tumble-down chimneys; the low doorways, that had sunk down below the +level of the village street, until all the front parlours became +cellars, and strange pedestrians butted their heads against the +flower-pots in the bedroom windows; the withered iron frame and pitiful +oil-lamp hung out at the corner of the street, and making a faint spot +of feeble light upon the rugged pavement; mysterious little shops in +diamond-paned parlour windows, where Dutch dolls and stationery, stale +gingerbread and pickled cabbage, were mixed up with wooden pegtops, +squares of yellow soap, rickety paper kites, green apples, and string; +they were all familiar to him. + +It had been a fine thing once to come into this village with Letitia, +and buy stale gingerbread and rickety kites of a snuffy old pensioner +of his mother's. The kites had always stuck in the upper branches of +the oaks, and the gingerbread had invariably choked him; but with the +memory of the kites and gingerbread came back all the freshness of his +youth, and he looked with a pensive tenderness at the homely little +shops, the merchandise flickering in the red firelight, that filled +each quaint interior with a genial glow of warmth and colour. + +He passed unquestioned by a wicket at the side of the great gates. The +firelight was rosy in the windows of the lodge, and he heard a woman's +voice singing a monotonous song to a sleepy child. Everywhere in this +pleasant England there seemed to be the glow of cottage-fires, and +friendliness, and love, and home. The young man sighed as he remembered +that great stone mansion far away in dismal Lincolnshire, and thought +how happy he might have been in this bleak spring twilight, if he could +have sat by Mary Marchmont's side in the western drawing-room, watching +the firelight and the shadows trembling on her fair young face. + +It never had been; and it never was to be. The happiness of a home; the +sweet sense of ownership; the delight of dispensing pleasure to others; +all the simple domestic joys which make life beautiful,--had never been +known to John Marchmont's daughter, since that early time in which she +shared her father's lodging in Oakley Street, and went out in the cold +December morning to buy rolls for Edward Arundel's breakfast. From the +bay-window of his mother's favourite sitting-room the same red light +that he had seen in every lattice in the village streamed out upon the +growing darkness of the lawn. There was a half-glass door leading into +a little lobby near this sitting-room. Edward Arundel opened it and +went in, very quietly. He expected to find his mother and his sister in +the room with the bay-window. + +The door of this familiar apartment was ajar; he pushed it open, and +went in. It was a very pretty room, and all the womanly litter of open +books and music, needlework and drawing materials, made it homelike. +The firelight flickered upon everything--on the pictures and +picture-frames, the black oak paneling, the open piano, a cluster of +snowdrops in a tall glass on the table, the scattered worsteds by the +embroidery-frame, the sleepy dogs upon the hearth-rug. A young lady +stood in the bay-window with her back to the fire. Edward Arundel crept +softly up to her, and put his arm round her waist. + +"Letty!" + +It was not Letitia, but a young lady with very blue eyes, who blushed +scarlet, and turned upon the young man rather fiercely; and then +recognising him, dropped into the nearest chair and began to tremble +and grow pale. + +"I am sorry I startled you, Miss Lawford," Edward said, gently; "I +really thought you were my sister. I did not even know that you were +here." + +"No, of course not. I--you didn't startle me much, Mr. Arundel; only +you were not expected home. I thought you were far away in Brittany. I +had no idea that there was any chance of your returning. I thought you +meant to be away all the summer--Mrs. Arundel told me so." + +Belinda Lawford said all this in that fresh girlish voice which was +familiar to Mr. Arundel; but she was still very pale, and she still +trembled a little, and there was something almost apologetic in the way +in which she assured Edward that she had believed he would be abroad +throughout the summer. It seemed almost as if she had said: "I did not +come here because I thought I should see you. I had no thought or hope +of meeting you." + +But Edward Arundel was not a coxcomb, and he was very slow to +understand any such signs as these. He saw that he had startled the +young lady, and that she had turned pale and trembled as she recognised +him; and he looked at her with a half-wondering, half-pensive +expression in his face. + +She blushed as he looked at her. She went to the table and began to +gather together the silks and worsteds, as if the arrangement of her +workbasket were a matter of vital importance, to be achieved at any +sacrifice of politeness. Then, suddenly remembering that she ought to +say something to Mr. Arundel, she gave evidence of the originality of +her intellect by the following remark: + +"How surprised Mrs. Arundel and Letitia will be to see you!" + +Even as she said this her eyes were still bent upon the skeins of +worsted in her hand. + +"Yes; I think they will be surprised. I did not mean to come home until +the autumn. But I got so tired of wandering about a strange country +alone. Where are they--my mother and Letitia?" + +"They have gone down the village, to the school. They will be back to +tea. Your brother is away; and we dine at three o'clock, and drink tea +at eight. It is so much pleasanter than dining late." + +This was quite an effort of genius; and Miss Lawford went on sorting +the skeins of worsted in the firelight. Edward Arundel had been +standing all this time with his hat in his hand, almost as if he had +been a visitor making a late morning call upon Belinda; but he put his +hat down now, and seated himself near the table by which the young lady +stood, busy with the arrangement of her workbasket. + +Her heart was beating very fast, and she was straining her arithmetical +powers to the uttermost, in the endeavour to make a very abstruse +calculation as to the time in which Mrs. Arundel and Letitia could walk +to the village schoolhouse and back to Dangerfield, and the delay that +might arise by reason of sundry interruptions from obsequious gaffers +and respectful goodies, eager for a word of friendly salutation from +their patroness. + +The arrangement of the workbasket could not last for ever. It had +become the most pitiful pretence by the time Miss Lawford shut down the +wicker lid, and seated herself primly in a low chair by the fireplace. +She sat looking down at the fire, and twisting a slender gold chain in +and out between her smooth white fingers. She looked very pretty in +that fitful firelight, with her waving brown hair pushed off her +forehead, and her white eyelids hiding the tender blue eyes. She sat +twisting the chain in her fingers, and dared not lift her eyes to Mr. +Arundel's face; and if there had been a whole flock of geese in the +room, she could not have said "Bo!" to one of them. + +And yet she was not a stupid girl. Her father could have indignantly +refuted any such slander as that against the azure-eyed Hebe who made +his home pleasant to him. To the Major's mind Belinda was all that man +could desire in the woman of his choice, whether as daughter or wife. +She was the bright genius of the old man's home, and he loved her with +that chivalrous devotion which is common to brave soldiers, who are the +simplest and gentlest of men when you chain them to their firesides, +and keep them away from the din of the camp and the confusion of the +transport-ship. + +Belinda Lawford was clever; but only just clever enough to be charming. +I don't think she could have got through "Paradise Lost," or Gibbon's +"Decline and Fall," or a volume by Adam Smith or McCulloch, though you +had promised her a diamond necklace when she came conscientiously to +"Finis." But she could read Shakespeare for the hour together, and did +read him aloud to her father in a fresh, clear voice, that was like +music on the water. And she read Macaulay's "History of England," with +eyes that kindled with indignation against cowardly, obstinate James, +or melted with pity for poor weak foolish Monmouth, as the case might +be. She could play Mendelssohn and Beethoven,--plaintive sonatas; +tender songs, that had no need of words to expound the mystic meaning +of the music. She could sing old ballads and Irish melodies, that +thrilled the souls of those who heard her, and made hard men pitiful to +brazen Hibernian beggars in the London streets for the memory of that +pensive music. She could read the leaders in the "Times," with no false +quantities in the Latin quotations, and knew what she was reading +about; and had her favourites at St. Stephen's; and adored Lord +Palmerston, and was liberal to the core of her tender young heart. She +was as brave as a true Englishwoman should be, and would have gone to +the wars with her old father, and served him as his page; or would have +followed him into captivity, and tended him in prison, if she had lived +in the days when there was such work for a high-spirited girl to do. + +But she sat opposite Mr. Edward Arundel, and twisted her chain round +her fingers, and listened for the footsteps of the returning mistress +of the house. She was like a bashful schoolgirl who has danced with an +officer at her first ball. And yet amidst her shy confusion, her fears +that she should seem agitated and embarrassed, her struggles to appear +at her ease, there was a sort of pleasure in being seated there by the +low fire with Edward Arundel opposite to her. There was a strange +pleasure, an almost painful pleasure, mingled with her feelings in +those quiet moments. She was acutely conscious of every sound that +broke the stillness--the sighing of the wind in the wide chimney; the +falling of the cinders on the hearth; the occasional snort of one of +the sleeping dogs; and the beating of her own restless heart. And +though she dared not lift her eyelids to the young soldier's face, that +handsome, earnest countenance, with the chestnut hair lit up with +gleams of gold, the firm lips shaded by a brown moustache, the pensive +smile, the broad white forehead, the dark-blue handkerchief tied +loosely under a white collar, the careless grey travelling-dress, even +the attitude of the hand and arm, the bent head drooping a little over +the fire,--were as present to her inner sight as if her eyes had kept +watch all this time, and had never wavered in their steady gaze. + +There is a second-sight that is not recognised by grave professors of +magic--a second-sight which common people call Love. + +But by-and-by Edward began to talk, and then Miss Lawford found +courage, and took heart to question him about his wanderings in +Brittany. She had only been a few weeks in Devonshire, she said. Her +thoughts went back to the dreary autumn in Lincolnshire as she spoke; +and she remembered the dull October day upon which her father had come +into the girl's morning-room at the Grange with Edward's farewell +letter in his hand. She remembered this, and all the talk that there +had been about the horsewhipping of Mr. Paul Marchmont upon his own +threshold. She remembered all the warm discussions, the speculations, +the ignorant conjectures, the praise, the blame; and how it had been +her business to sit by and listen and hold her peace, except upon that +one never-to-be-forgotten night at the Rectory, when Paul Marchmont had +hinted at something whose perfect meaning she had never dared to +imagine, but which had, somehow or other, mingled vaguely with all her +day-dreams ever since. + +Was there any truth in that which Paul Marchmont had said to her? Was +it true that Edward Arundel had never really loved his young bride? + +Letitia had said as much, not once, but twenty times. + +"It's quite ridiculous to suppose that he could have ever been in love +with the poor, dear, sickly thing," Miss Arundel had exclaimed; "it was +only the absurd romance of the business that captivated him; for Edward +is really ridiculously romantic, and her father having been a +supernumer--(it's no use, I don't think anybody ever did know how many +syllables there are in that word)--and having lived in Oakley Street, +and having written a pitiful letter to Edward, about this motherless +daughter and all that sort of thing, just like one of those tiresome +old novels with a baby left at a cottage-door, and all the _s's_ +looking like _f's_, and the last word of one page repeated at the top +of the next page, and printed upon thick yellow-looking ribbed paper, +you know. _That_ was why my brother married Miss Marchmont, you may +depend upon it, Linda; and all I hope is, that he'll be sensible enough +to marry again soon, and to have a Christianlike wedding, with +carriages, and a breakfast, and two clergymen; and _I_ should wear +white glacé silk, with tulle puffings, and a tulle bonnet (I suppose I +must wear a bonnet, being only a bridesmaid?), all showered over with +clematis, as if I'd stood under a clematis-bush when the wind was +blowing, you know, Linda." + +With such discourse as this Miss Arundel had frequently entertained her +friend; and she had indulged in numerous inuendoes of an embarrassing +nature as to the propriety of old friends and schoolfellows being +united by the endearing tie of sister-in-lawhood, and other +observations to the like effect. + +Belinda knew that if Edward ever came to love her,--whenever she did +venture to speculate upon such a chance, she never dared to come at all +near it, but thought of it as a thing that might come to pass in half a +century or so--if he should choose her for his second wife, she knew +that she would be gladly and tenderly welcomed at Dangerfield. Mrs. +Arundel had hinted as much as this. Belinda knew how anxiously that +loving mother hoped that her son might, by-and-by, form new ties, and +cease to lead a purposeless life, wasting his brightest years in +lamentations for his lost bride: she knew all this; and sitting +opposite to the young man in the firelight, there was a dull pain at +her heart; for there was something in the soldier's sombre face that +told her he had not yet ceased to lament that irrevocable past. + +But Mrs. Arundel and Letitia came in presently, and gave utterance to +loud rejoicings; and preparations were made for the physical comfort of +the wanderer,--bells were rung, lighted wax-candles and a glittering +tea-service were brought in, a cloth was laid, and cold meats and other +comestibles spread forth, with that profusion which has made the west +country as proverbial as the north for its hospitality. I think Miss +Lawford would have sat opposite the traveller for a week without asking +any such commonplace question as to whether Mr. Arundel required +refreshment. She had read in her Hort's "Pantheon" that the gods +sometimes ate and drank like ordinary mortals; yet it had never entered +into her mind that Edward could be hungry. But she now had the +satisfaction of seeing Mr. Arundel eat a very good dinner; while she +herself poured out the tea, to oblige Letitia, who was in the middle of +the third volume of a new novel, and went on reading it as coolly as if +there had been no such person as that handsome young soldier in the +world. + +"The books must go back to the club to-morrow morning, you know, mamma +dear, or I wouldn't read at tea-time," the young lady remarked +apologetically. "I want to know whether _he'll_ marry Theodora or that +nasty Miss St. Ledger. Linda thinks he'll marry Miss St. Ledger, and be +miserable, and Theodora will die. I believe Linda likes love-stories to +end unhappily. I don't. I hope if he _does_ marry Miss St. Ledger--and +he'll be a wicked wretch if he does, after the _things_ he has said to +Theodora--I hope, if he does, she'll die--catch cold at a _déjeuner_ at +Twickenham, or something of that kind, you know; and then he'll marry +Theodora afterwards, and all will end happily. Do you know, Linda, I +always fancy that you're like Theodora, and that Edward's like _him_." + +After which speech Miss Arundel went back to her book, and Edward +helped himself to a slice of tongue rather awkwardly, and Belinda +Lawford, who had her hand upon the urn, suffered the teapot to overflow +amongst the cups and saucers. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +A WIDOWER'S PROPOSAL. + + +For some time after his return Edward Arundel was very restless and +gloomy: roaming about the country by himself, under the influence of a +pretended passion for pedestrianism; reading hard for the first time in +his life, shutting himself in his dead father's library, and sitting +hour after hour in a great easy-chair, reading the histories of all the +wars that have ever ravaged this earth--from the days in which the +elephants of a Carthaginian ruler trampled upon the soldiery of Rome, +to the era of that Corsican barrister's wonderful son, who came out of +his simple island home to conquer the civilised half of a world. + +Edward Arundel showed himself a very indifferent brother; for, do what +she would, Letitia could not induce him to join in any of her pursuits. +She caused a butt to be set up upon the lawn; but all she could say +about Belinda's "best gold" could not bring the young man out upon the +grass to watch the two girls shooting. He looked at them by stealth +sometimes through the window of the library, and sighed as he thought +of the blight upon his manhood, and of all the things that might have +been. + +Might not these things even yet come to pass? Had he not done his duty +to the dead; and was he not free now to begin a fresh life? His mother +was perpetually hinting at some bright prospect that lay smiling before +him, if he chose to take the blossom-bestrewn path that led to that +fair country. His sister told him still more plainly of a prize that +was within his reach, if he were but brave enough to stretch out his +hand and claim the precious treasure for his own. But when he thought +of all this,--when he pondered whether it would not be wise to drop the +dense curtain of forgetfulness over that sad picture of the +past,--whether it would not be well to let the dead bury their dead, +and to accept that other blessing which the same Providence that had +blighted his first hope seemed to offer to him now,--the shadowy +phantom of John Marchmont arose out of the mystic realms of the dead, +and a ghostly voice cried to him, "I charged you with my daughter's +safe keeping; I trusted you with her innocent love; I gave you the +custody of her helplessness. What have you done to show yourself worthy +of my faith in you?" + +These thoughts tormented the young widower perpetually, and deprived +him of all pleasure in the congenial society of his sister and Belinda +Lawford; or infused so sharp a flavour of remorse into his cup of +enjoyment, that pleasure was akin to pain. + +So I don't know how it was that, in the dusky twilight of a bright day +in early May, nearly two months after his return to Dangerfield, Edward +Arundel, coming by chance upon Miss Lawford as she sat alone in the +deep bay-window where he had found her on his first coming, confessed +to her the terrible struggle of feeling that made the great trouble of +his life, and asked her if she was willing to accept a love which, in +its warmest fervour, was not quite unclouded by the shadows of the +sorrowful past. + +"I love you dearly, Linda," he said; "I love, I esteem, I admire you; +and I know that it is in your power to give me the happiest future that +ever a man imagined in his youngest, brightest dreams. But if you do +accept my love, dear, you must take my memory with it. I cannot forget, +Linda. I have tried to forget. I have prayed that God, in His mercy, +might give me forgetfulness of that irrevocable past. But the prayer +has never been granted; the boon has never been bestowed. I think that +love for the living and remorse for the dead must for ever reign side +by side in my heart. It is no falsehood to you that makes me remember +her; it is no forgetfulness of her that makes me love you. I offer my +brighter and happier self to you, Belinda; I consecrate my sorrow and +my tears to her. I love you with all my heart, Belinda; but even for +the sake of your love I will not pretend that I can forget her. If John +Marchmont's daughter had died with her head upon my breast, and a +prayer on her lips, I might have regretted her as other men regret +their wives; and I might have learned by-and-by to look back upon my +grief with only a tender and natural regret, that would have left my +future life unclouded. But it can never be so. The poison of remorse is +blended with that sorrowful memory. If I had done otherwise,--if I had +been wiser and more thoughtful,--my darling need never have suffered; +my darling need never have sinned. It is the thought that her death may +have been a sinful one, that is most cruel to me, Belinda. I have seen +her pray, with her pale earnest face uplifted, and the light of faith +shining in her gentle eyes; I have seen the inspiration of God upon her +face; and I cannot bear to think that, in the darkness that came down +upon her young life, that holy light was quenched; I cannot bear to +think that Heaven was ever deaf to the pitiful cry of my innocent +lamb." + +And here Mr. Arundel paused, and sat silently, looking out at the long +shadows of the trees upon the darkening lawn; and I fear that, for the +time being, he forgot that he had just made Miss Lawford an offer of +his hand, and so much of his heart as a widower may be supposed to have +at his disposal. + +Ah me! we can only live and die _once_. There are some things, and +those the most beautiful of all things, that can never be renewed: the +bloom on a butterfly's wing; the morning dew upon a newly-blown rose; +our first view of the ocean; our first pantomime, when all the fairies +were fairies for ever, and when the imprudent consumption of the +contents of a pewter quart-measure in sight of the stage-box could not +disenchant us with that elfin creature, Harlequin the graceful, +faithful betrothed of Columbine the fair. The firstlings of life are +most precious. When the black wing of the angel of death swept over +agonised Egypt, and the children were smitten, offended Heaven, eager +for a sacrifice, took the firstborn. The young mothers would have other +children, perhaps; but between those others and the mother's love there +would be the pale shadow of that lost darling whose tiny hands _first_ +drew undreamed-of melodies from the sleeping chords, _first_ evoked the +slumbering spirit of maternal love. Amongst the later lines--the most +passionate, the most sorrowful--that George Gordon Noel Byron wrote, +are some brief verses that breathed a lament for the lost freshness, +the never-to-be-recovered youth. + + "Oh, could I feel as I have felt; or be what I have been; + Or weep as I could once have wept!" + +cried the poet, when he complained of that "mortal coldness of the +soul," which is "like death itself." It is a pity certainly that so +great a man should die in the prime of life; but if Byron had survived +to old age after writing these lines, he would have been a living +anticlimax. When a man writes that sort of poetry he pledges himself to +die young. + +Edward Arundel had grown to love Belinda Lawford unconsciously, and in +spite of himself; but the first love of his heart, the first fruit of +his youth, had perished. He could not feel quite the same devotion, the +same boyish chivalry, that he had felt for the innocent bride who had +wandered beside him in the sheltered meadows near Winchester. He might +begin a _new_ life, but he could not live the _old_ life over again. He +must wear his rue with a difference this time. But he loved Belinda +very dearly, nevertheless; and he told her so, and by-and-by won from +her a tearful avowal of affection. + +Alas! she had no power to question the manner of his wooing. He loved +her--he had said as much; and all the good she had desired in this +universe became hers from the moment of Edward Arundel's utterance of +those words. He loved her; that was enough. That he should cherish a +remorseful sorrow for that lost wife, made him only the truer, nobler, +and dearer in Belinda's sight. She was not vain, or exacting, or +selfish. It was not in her nature to begrudge poor dead Mary the tender +thoughts of her husband. She was generous, impulsive, believing; and +she had no more inclination to doubt Edward's love for her, after he +had once avowed such a sentiment, than to disbelieve in the light of +heaven when she saw the sun shining. Unquestioning, and unutterably +happy, she received her lover's betrothal kiss, and went with him to +his mother, blushing and trembling, to receive that lady's blessing. + +"Ah, if you knew how I have prayed for this, Linda!" Mrs. Arundel +exclaimed, as she folded the girl's slight figure in her arms. + +"And I shall wear white glacé with pinked flounces, instead of tulle +puffings, you sly Linda," cried Letitia. + +"And I'll give Ted the home-farm, and the white house to live in, if he +likes to try his hand at the new system of farming," said Reginald +Arundel, who had come home from the Continent, and had amused himself +for the last week by strolling about his estate and staring at his +timber, and almost wishing that there was a necessity for cutting down +all the oaks in the avenue, so that he might have something to occupy +him until the 12th of August. + +Never was promised bride more welcome to a household than bright +Belinda Lawford; and as for the young lady herself, I must confess that +she was almost childishly happy, and that it was all that she could do +to prevent her light step from falling into a dance as she floated +hither and thither through the house at Dangerfield,--a fresh young +Hebe in crisp muslin robes; a gentle goddess, with smiles upon her face +and happiness in her heart. + +"I loved you from the first, Edward," she whispered one day to her +lover. "I knew that you were good, and brave, and noble; and I loved +you because of that." + +And a little for the golden glimmer in his clustering curls; and a +little for his handsome profile, his flashing eyes, and that +distinguished air peculiar to the defenders of their country; more +especially peculiar, perhaps, to those who ride on horseback when they +sally forth to defend her. Once a soldier for ever a soldier, I think. +You may rob the noble warrior of his uniform, if you will; but the _je +ne sais quoi_, the nameless air of the "long-sword, saddle, bridle," +will hang round him still. + +Mrs. Arundel and Letitia took matters quite out of the hands of the two +lovers. The elderly lady fixed the wedding-day, by agreement with Major +Lawford, and sketched out the route for the wedding-tour. The younger +lady chose the fabrics for the dresses of the bride and her attendants; +and all was done before Edward and Belinda well knew what their friends +were about. I think that Mrs. Arundel feared her son might change his +mind if matters were not brought swiftly to a climax, and that she +hurried on the irrevocable day in order that he might have no breathing +time until the vows had been spoken and Belinda Lawford was his wedded +wife. It had been arranged that Edward should escort Belinda back to +Lincolnshire, and that his mother and Letitia, who was to be chief +bridesmaid, should go with them. The marriage was to be solemnised at +Hillingsworth church, which was within a mile and a half of the Grange. + +The 1st of July was the day appointed by agreement between Major and +Mrs. Lawford and Mrs. Arundel; and on the 18th of June Edward was to +accompany his mother, Letitia, and Belinda to London. They were to +break the journey by stopping in town for a few days, in order to make +a great many purchases necessary for Miss Lawford's wedding +paraphernalia, for which the Major had sent a bouncing cheque to his +favourite daughter. + +And all this time the only person at all unsettled, the only person +whose mind was ill at ease, was Edward Arundel, the young widower who +was about to take to himself a second wife. His mother, who watched him +with a maternal comprehension of every change in his face, saw this, +and trembled for her son's happiness. + +"And yet he cannot be otherwise than happy with Belinda Lawford," Mrs. +Arundel thought to herself. + +But upon the eve of that journey to London Edward sat alone with his +mother in the drawing-room at Dangerfield, after the two younger ladies +had retired for the night. They slept in adjoining apartments, these +two young ladies; and I regret to say that a great deal of their +conversation was about Valenciennes lace, and flounces cut upon the +cross, moire antique, mull muslin, glacé silk, and the last "sweet +thing" in bonnets. It was only when loquacious Letitia was shut out +that Miss Lawford knelt alone in the still moonlight, and prayed that +she might be a good wife to the man who had chosen her. I don't think +she ever prayed that she might be faithful and true and pure; for it +never entered into her mind that any creature bearing the sacred name +of wife could be otherwise. She only prayed for the mysterious power to +preserve her husband's affection, and make his life happy. + +Mrs. Arundel, sitting _tête-à-tête_ with her younger son in the +lamp-lit drawing-room, was startled by hearing the young man breathe a +deep sigh. She looked up from her work to see a sadder expression in +his face than perhaps ever clouded the countenance of an expectant +bridegroom. + +"Edward!" she exclaimed. + +"What, mother?" + +"How heavily you sighed just now!" + +"Did I?" said Mr. Arundel, abstractedly. Then, after a brief pause, he +said, in a different tone, "It is no use trying to hide these things +from you, mother. The truth is, I am not happy." + +"Not happy, Edward!" cried Mrs. Arundel; "but surely you----?" + +"I know what you are going to say, mother. Yes, mother, I love this +dear girl Linda with all my heart; I love her most sincerely; and I +could look forward to a life of unalloyed happiness with her, if--if +there was not some inexplicable dread, some vague and most miserable +feeling always coming between me and my hopes. I have tried to look +forward to the future, mother; I have tried to think of what my life +may be with Belinda; but I cannot, I cannot. I cannot look forward; all +is dark to me. I try to build up a bright palace, and an unknown hand +shatters it. I try to turn away from the memory of my old sorrows; but +the same hand plucks me back, and chains me to the past. If I could +retract what I have done; if I could, with any show of honour, draw +back, even now, and not go upon this journey to Lincolnshire; if I +_could_ break my faith to this poor girl who loves me, and whom I love, +as God knows, with all truth and earnestness, I would do so--I would do +so." + +"Edward!" + +"Yes, mother; I would do it. It is not in me to forget. My dead wife +haunts me by night and day. I hear her voice crying to me, 'False, +false, false; cruel and false; heartless and forgetful!' There is never +a night that I do not dream of that dark sluggish river down in +Lincolnshire. There is never a dream that I have--however purposeless, +however inconsistent in all its other details--in which I do not see +_her_ dead face looking up at me through the murky waters. Even when I +am talking to Linda, when words of love for her are on my lips, my mind +wanders away, back--always back--to the sunset by the boat-house, when +my little wife gave me her hand; to the trout-stream in the meadow, +where we sat side by side and talked about the future." + +For a few minutes Mrs. Arundel was quite silent. She abandoned herself +for that brief interval to complete despair. It was all over. The +bridegroom would cry off; insulted Major Lawford would come post-haste +to Dangerfield, to annihilate this dismal widower, who did not know his +own mind. All the shimmering fabrics--the gauzes, and laces, and silks, +and velvets--that were in course of preparation in the upper chambers +would become so much useless finery, to be hidden in out-of-the-way +cupboards, and devoured by misanthropical moths,--insect iconoclasts, +who take a delight in destroying the decorations of the human temple. + +Poor Mrs. Arundel took a mental photograph of all the complicated +horrors of the situation. An offended father; a gentle, loving girl +crushed like some broken lily; gossip, slander; misery of all kinds. +And then the lady plucked up courage and gave her recreant son a sound +lecture, to the effect that this conduct was atrociously wicked; and +that if this trusting young bride, this fair young second wife, were to +be taken away from him as the first had been, such a calamity would +only be a fitting judgment upon him for his folly. + +But Edward told his mother, very quietly, that he had no intention of +being false to his newly-plighted troth. + +"I love Belinda," he said; "and I will be true to her, mother. But I +cannot forget the past; it hangs about me like a bad dream." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +HOW THE TIDINGS WERE RECEIVED IN LINCOLNSHIRE. + + +The young widower made no further lamentation, but did his duty to his +betrothed bride with a cheerful visage. Ah! what a pleasant journey it +was to Belinda, that progress through London on the way to +Lincolnshire! It was like that triumphant journey of last March, when +the Royal bridegroom led his Northern bride through a surging sea of +eager, smiling faces, to the musical jangling of a thousand bells. If +there were neither populace nor joy-bells on this occasion, I scarcely +think Miss Lawford knew that those elements of a triumphal progress +were missing. To her ears all the universe was musical with the sound +of mystic joy-bells; all the earth was glad with the brightness of +happy faces. The railway-carriage,--the commonplace vehicle,--frouzy +with the odour of wool and morocco, was a fairy chariot, more wonderful +than Queen Mab's; the white chalk-cutting in the hill was a shining +cleft in a mountain of silver; the wandering streams were melted +diamonds; the stations were enchanted castles. The pale sherry, carried +in a pocket-flask, and sipped out of a little silver tumbler--there is +apt to be a warm flatness about sherry taken out of pocket-flasks that +is scarcely agreeable to the connoisseur--was like nectar newly brewed +for the gods; even the anchovies in the sandwiches were like the +enchanted fish in the Arabian story. A magical philter had been infused +into the atmosphere: the flavour of first love was in every sight and +sound. + +Was ever bridegroom more indulgent, more devoted, than Edward Arundel? +He sat at the counters of silk-mercers for the hour together, while +Mrs. Arundel and the two girls deliberated over crisp fabrics unfolded +for their inspection. He was always ready to be consulted, and gave his +opinion upon the conflicting merits of peach-colour and pink, +apple-green and maize, with unwearying attention. But sometimes, even +while Belinda was smiling at him, with the rippling silken stuff held +up in her white hands, and making a lustrous cascade upon the counter, +the mystic hand plucked him back, and his mind wandered away to that +childish bride who had chosen no splendid garments for her wedding, but +had gone with him to the altar as trustfully as a baby goes in its +mother's arms to the cradle. If he had been left alone with Belinda, +with tender, sympathetic Belinda,--who loved him well enough to +understand him, and was always ready to take her cue from his face, and +to be joyous or thoughtful according to his mood,--it might have been +better for him. But his mother and Letitia reigned paramount during +this ante-nuptial week, and Mr. Arundel was scarcely suffered to take +breath. He was hustled hither and thither in the hot summer noontide. +He was taken to choose a dressing-case for his bride; and he was made +to look at glittering objects until his eyes ached, and he could see +nothing but a bewildering dazzle of ormolu and silver-gilt. He was +taken to a great emporium in Bond Street to select perfumery, and made +to sniff at divers essences until his nostrils were unnaturally +distended, and his olfactory nerves afflicted with temporary paralysis. +There was jewellery of his mother and of Belinda's mother to be re-set; +and the hymeneal victim was compelled to sit for an hour or so, +blinking at fiery-crested serpents that were destined to coil up his +wife's arms, and emerald padlocks that were to lie upon her breast. And +then, when his soul was weary of glaring splendours and glittering +confusions, they took him round the Park, in a whirlpool of diaphanous +bonnets, and smiling faces, and brazen harness, and emblazoned +hammer-cloths, on the margin of a river whose waters were like molten +gold under the blazing sun. And then they gave him a seat in an +opera-box, and the crash of a monster orchestra, blended with the hum +of a thousand voices, to soothe his nerves withal. + +But the more wearied this young man became with glitter, and dazzle, +and sunshine, and silk-mercer's ware, the more surely his mind wandered +back to the still meadows, and the limpid trout-stream, the sheltering +hills, the solemn shadows of the cathedral, the distant voices of the +rooks high up in the waving elms. + +The bustle of preparation was over at last, and the bridal party went +down to Lincolnshire. Pleasant chambers had been prepared at the Grange +for Mr. Arundel and his mother and sister; and the bridegroom was +received with enthusiasm by Belinda's blue-eyed younger sisters, who +were enchanted to find that there was going to be a wedding and that +they were to have new frocks. + +So Edward would have been a churl indeed had he seemed otherwise than +happy, had he been anything but devoted to the bright girl who loved +him. + +Tidings of the coming wedding flew like wildfire through Lincolnshire. +Edward Arundel's romantic story had elevated him into a hero; all +manner of reports had been circulated about his devotion to his lost +young wife. He had sworn never to mingle in society again, people said. +He had sworn never to have a new suit of clothes, or to have his hair +cut, or to shave, or to eat a hot dinner. And Lincolnshire by no means +approved of the defection implied by his approaching union with +Belinda. He was only a commonplace widower, after all, it seemed; ready +to be consoled as soon as the ceremonious interval of decent grief was +over. People had expected something better of him. They had expected to +see him in a year or two with long grey hair, dressed in shabby +raiment, and, with his beard upon his breast, prowling about the +village of Kemberling, baited by little children. Lincolnshire was very +much disappointed by the turn that affairs had taken. Shakesperian +aphorisms were current among the gossips at comfortable tea-tables; and +people talked about funeral baked meats, and the propriety of building +churches if you have any ambitious desire that your memory should +outlast your life; and indulged in other bitter observations, familiar +to all admirers of the great dramatist. + +But there were some people in Lincolnshire to whom the news of Edward +Arundel's intended marriage was more welcome than the early May-flowers +to rustic children eager for a festival. Paul Marchmont heard the +report, and rubbed his hands stealthily, and smiled to himself as he +sat reading in the sunny western drawing-room. The good seed that he +had sown that night at the Rectory had borne this welcome fruit. Edward +Arundel with a young wife would be very much less formidable than +Edward Arundel single and discontented, prowling about the +neighbourhood of Marchmont Towers, and perpetually threatening +vengeance upon Mary's cousin. + +It was busy little Lavinia Weston who first brought her brother the +tidings. He took both her hands in his, and kissed them in his +enthusiasm. + +"My best of sisters," he said, "you shall have a pair of diamond +earrings for this." + +"For only bringing you the news, Paul?" + +"For only bringing me the news. When a messenger carries the tidings of +a great victory to his king, the king makes him a knight upon the spot. +This marriage is a victory to me, Lavinia. From to-day I shall breathe +freely." + +"But they are not married yet. Something may happen, perhaps, to +prevent----" + +"What should happen?" asked Paul, rather sharply. "By-the-bye, it will +be as well to keep this from Mrs. John," he added, thoughtfully; +"though really now I fancy it matters very little what she hears." + +He tapped his forehead lightly with his two slim fingers, and there was +a horrible significance in the action. + +"She is not likely to hear anything," Mrs. Weston said; "she sees no +one but Barbara Simmons." + +"Then I should be glad if you would give Simmons a hint to hold her +tongue. This news about the wedding would disturb her mistress." + +"Yes, I'll tell her so. Barbara is a very excellent person. I can +always manage Barbara. But oh, Paul, I don't know what I'm to do with +that poor weak-witted husband of mine." + +"How do you mean?" + +"Oh, Paul, I have had such a scene with him to-day--such a scene! You +remember the way he went on that day down in the boat-house when Edward +Arundel came in upon us unexpectedly? Well, he's been going on as badly +as that to-day, Paul,--or worse, I really think." + +Mr. Marchmont frowned, and flung aside his newspaper, with a gesture +expressive of considerable vexation. + +"Now really, Lavinia, this is too bad," he said; "if your husband is a +fool, I am not going to be bored about his folly. You have managed him +for fifteen years: surely you can go on managing him now without +annoying _me_ about him? If Mr. George Weston doesn't know when he's +well off, he's an ungrateful cur, and you may tell him so, with my +compliments." + +He picked up his newspaper again, and began to read. But Lavinia +Weston, looking anxiously at her brother's face, saw that his pale +auburn brows were contracted in a thoughtful frown, and that, if he +read at all, the words upon which his eyes rested could convey very +little meaning to his brain. + +She was right; for presently he spoke to her, still looking at the page +before him, and with an attempt at carelessness. + +"Do you think that fellow would go to Australia, Lavinia?" + +"Alone?" asked his sister. + +"Yes, alone of course," said Mr. Marchmont, putting down his paper, and +looking at Mrs. Weston rather dubiously. "I don't want you to go to the +Antipodes; but if--if the fellow refused to go without you, I'd make it +well worth your while to go out there, Lavinia. You shouldn't have any +reason to regret obliging me, my dear girl." + +The dear girl looked rather sharply at her affectionate brother. + +"It's like your selfishness, Paul, to propose such a thing," she said, +"after all I've done----!" + +"I have not been illiberal to you, Lavinia." + +"No; you've been generous enough to me, I know, in the matter of gifts; +but you're rich, Paul, and you can afford to give. I don't like the +idea that you're so willing to pack me out of the way now that I can be +no longer useful to you." + +Mr. Marchmont shrugged his shoulders. + +"For Heaven's sake, Lavinia, don't be sentimental. If there's one thing +I despise more than another, it is this kind of mawkish sentimentality. +You've been a very good sister to me; and I've been a very decent +brother to you. If you have served me, I have made it answer your +purpose to do so. I don't want you to go away. You may bring all your +goods and chattels to this house to-morrow, if you like, and live at +free quarters here for the rest of your existence. But if George Weston +is a pig-headed brute, who can't understand upon which side his bread +is buttered, he must be got out of the way somehow. I don't care what +it costs me; but he must be got out of the way. I'm not going to live +the life of a modern Damocles, with a blundering sword always dangling +over my head, in the person of Mr. George Weston. And if the man +objects to leave the country without you, why, I think your going with +him would be only a sisterly act towards me. I hate selfishness, +Lavinia, almost as much as I detest sentimentality." + +Mrs. Weston was silent for some minutes, absorbed in reflection. Paul +got up, kicked aside a footstool, and walked up and down the room with +his hands in his pockets. + +"Perhaps I might get George to leave England, if I promised to join him +as soon as he was comfortably settled in the colonies," Mrs. Weston +said, at last. + +"Yes," cried Paul; "nothing could be more easy. I'll act very liberally +towards him, Lavinia; I'll treat him well; but he shall not stay in +England. No, Lavinia; after what you have told me to-day, I feel that +he must be got out of the country." + +Mr. Marchmont went to the door and looked out, to see if by chance any +one had been listening to him. The coast was quite clear. The +stone-paved hall looked as desolate as some undiscovered chamber in an +Egyptian temple. The artist went back to Lavinia, and seated himself by +her side. For some time the brother and sister talked together +earnestly. + +They settled everything for poor henpecked George Weston. He was to +sail for Sydney immediately. Nothing could be more easy than for +Lavinia to declare that her brother had accidentally heard of some +grand opening for a medical practitioner in the metropolis of the +Antipodes. The surgeon was to have a very handsome sum given him, and +Lavinia would _of course_ join him as soon as he was settled. Paul +Marchmont even looked through the "Shipping Gazette" in search of an +Australian vessel which should speedily convey his brother-in-law to a +distant shore. + +Lavinia Weston went home armed with all necessary credentials. She was +to promise almost anything to her husband, provided that he gave his +consent to an early departure. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +MR. WESTON REFUSES TO BE TRAMPLED UPON. + + +Upon the 31st of June, the eve of Edward Arundel's wedding-day, Olivia +Marchmont sat in her own room,--the room that she had chiefly occupied +ever since her husband's death,--the study looking out into the +quadrangle. She sat alone in that dismal chamber, dimly lighted by a +pair of wax-candles, in tall tarnished silver candlesticks. There could +be no greater contrast than that between this desolate woman and the +master of the house. All about him was bright and fresh, and glittering +and splendid; around her there was only ruin and decay, thickening dust +and gathering cobwebs,--outward evidences of an inner wreck. John +Marchmont's widow was of no importance in that household. The servants +did not care to trouble themselves about her whims or wishes, nor to +put her rooms in order. They no longer curtseyed to her when they met +her, wandering--with a purposeless step and listless feet that dragged +along the ground--up and down the corridor, or out in the dreary +quadrangle. What was to be gained by any show of respect to her, whose +brain was too weak to hold the memory of their conduct for five minutes +together? + +Barbara Simmons only was faithful to her mistress with an unvarying +fidelity. She made no boast of her devotion; she expected neither fee +nor reward for her self-abnegation. That rigid religion of discipline +which had not been strong enough to preserve Olivia's stormy soul from +danger and ruin was at least all-sufficient for this lower type of +woman. Barbara Simmons had been taught to do her duty, and she did it +without question or complaint. As she went through rain, snow, hail, or +sunshine twice every Sunday to Kemberling church,--as she sat upon a +cushionless seat in an uncomfortable angle of the servants' pew, with +the sharp edges of the woodwork cutting her thin shoulders, to listen +patiently to dull rambling sermons upon the hardest texts of St. +Paul,--so she attended upon her mistress, submitting to every caprice, +putting up with every hardship; because it was her duty so to do. The +only relief she allowed herself was an hour's gossip now and then in +the housekeeper's room; but she never alluded to her mistress's +infirmities, nor would it have been safe for any other servant to have +spoken lightly of Mrs. John Marchmont in stern Barbara's presence. + +Upon this summer evening, when happy people were still lingering +amongst the wild flowers in shady lanes, or in the dusky pathways by +the quiet river, Olivia sat alone, staring at the candles. + +Was there anything in her mind; or was she only a human automaton, +slowly decaying into dust? There was no speculation in those large +lustreless eyes, fixed upon the dim light of the candles. But, for all +that, the mind was not a blank. The pictures of the past, for ever +changing like the scenes in some magic panorama, revolved before her. +She had no memory of that which had happened a quarter of an hour ago; +but she could remember every word that Edward Arundel had said to her +in the Rectory-garden at Swampington,--every intonation of the voice in +which those words had been spoken. + +There was a tea-service on the table: an attenuated little silver +teapot; a lopsided cream-jug, with thin worn edges and one dumpy little +foot missing; and an antique dragon china cup and saucer with the +gilding washed off. That meal, which is generally called social, has +but a dismal aspect when it is only prepared for one. The solitary +teacup, half filled with cold, stagnant tea, with a leaf or two +floating upon the top, like weeds on the surface of a tideless pond; +the teaspoon, thrown askew across a little pool of spilt milk in the +tea-tray,--looked as dreary as the ruins of a deserted city. + +In the western drawing-room Paul was strolling backwards and forwards, +talking to his mother and sisters, and admiring his pictures. He had +spent a great deal of money upon art since taking possession of the +Towers, and the western drawing-room was quite a different place to +what it had been in John Marchmont's lifetime. + +Etty's divinities smiled through hazy draperies, more transparent than +the summer vapours that float before the moon. Pearly-complexioned +nymphs, with faces archly peeping round the corner of soft rosy +shoulders, frolicked amidst the silver spray of classic fountains. +Turner's Grecian temples glimmered through sultry summer mists; while +glimpses of ocean sparkled here and there, and were as beautiful as if +the artist's brush had been dipped in melted opals. Stanfield's breezy +beaches made cool spots of freshness on the wall, and sturdy +sailor-boys, with their hands up to their mouths and their loose hair +blowing in the wind, shouted to their comrades upon the decks of +brown-sailed fishing-smacks. Panting deer upon dizzy crags, amid the +misty Highlands, testified to the hand of Landseer. Low down, in the +corners of the room, there lurked quaint cottage-scenes by Faed and +Nichol. Ward's patched and powdered beaux and beauties,--a Rochester, +in a light perriwig; a Nell Gwynne, showing her white teeth across a +basket of oranges; a group of _Incroyables_, with bunches of ribbons +hanging from their low topboots, and two sets of dangling seals at +their waists--made a blaze of colour upon the walls: and amongst all +these glories of to-day there were prim Madonnas and stiff-necked +angels by Raphael and Tintoretto; a brown-faced grinning boy by Murillo +(no collection ever was complete without that inevitable brown-faced +boy); an obese Venus, by the great Peter Paul; and a pale Charles the +First, with martyrdom foreshadowed in his pensive face, by Vandyke. + +Paul Marchmont contemplated his treasures complacently, as he strolled +about the room, with his coffee-cup in his hand; while his mother +watched him admiringly from her comfortable cushioned nest at one end +of a luxurious sofa. + +"Well, mother," Mr. Marchmont said presently, "let people say what they +may of me, they can never say that I have used my money badly. When I +am dead and gone, these pictures will remain to speak for me; posterity +will say, 'At any rate the fellow was a man of taste.' Now what, in +Heaven's name, could that miserable little Mary have done with eleven +thousand a year, if--if she had lived to enjoy it?" + + * * * * * + +The minute-hand of the little clock in Mrs. John Marchmont's study was +creeping slowly towards the quarter before eleven, when Olivia was +aroused suddenly from that long reverie, in which the images of the +past had shone upon her across the dull stagnation of the present like +the domes and minarets in a Phantasm City gleaming athwart the barren +desert-sands. + +She was aroused by a cautious tap upon the outside of her window. She +got up, opened the window, and looked out. The night was dark and +starless, and there was a faint whisper of wind among the trees. + +"Don't be frightened," whispered a timid voice; "it's only me, George +Weston. I want to talk to you, Mrs. John. I've got something particular +to tell you--awful particular; but _they_ mustn't hear it; _they_ +mustn't know I'm here. I came round this way on purpose. You can let me +in at the little door in the lobby, can't you, Mrs. John? I tell you, I +must tell you what I've got to tell you," cried Mr. Weston, indifferent +to tautology in his excitement. "Do let me in, there's a dear good +soul. The little door in the lobby, you know; it's locked, you know, +but I dessay the key's there." + +"The door in the lobby?" repeated Olivia, in a dreamy voice. + +"Yes, _you_ know. Do let me in now, that's a good creature. It's awful +particular, I tell you. It's about Edward Arundel." + +Edward Arundel! The sound of that name seemed to act upon the woman's +shattered nerves like a stroke of electricity. The drooping head reared +itself erect. The eyes, so lustreless before, flashed fire from their +sombre depths. Comprehension, animation, energy returned; as suddenly +as if the wand of an enchanter had summoned the dead back to life. + +"Edward Arundel!" she cried, in a clear voice, which was utterly unlike +the dull deadness of her usual tones. + +"Hush," whispered Mr. Weston; "don't speak loud, for goodness gracious +sake. I dessay there's all manner of spies about. Let me in, and I'll +tell you everything." + +"Yes, yes; I'll let you in. The door by the lobby--I understand; come, +come." + +Olivia disappeared from the window. The lobby of which the surgeon had +spoken was close to her own apartment. She found the key in the lock of +the door. The place was dark; she opened the door almost noiselessly, +and Mr. Weston crept in on tiptoe. He followed Olivia into the study, +closed the door behind him, and drew a long breath. + +"I've got in," he said; "and now I am in, wild horses shouldn't hold me +from speaking my mind, much less Paul Marchmont." + +He turned the key in the door as he spoke, and even as he did so +glanced rather suspiciously towards the window. To his mind the very +atmosphere of that house was pervaded by the presence of his +brother-in-law. + +"O Mrs. John!" exclaimed the surgeon, in piteous accents, "the way that +I've been trampled upon. _You've_ been trampled upon, Mrs. John, but +you don't seem to mind it; and perhaps it's better to bring oneself to +that, if one can; but I can't. I've tried to bring myself to it; I've +even taken to drinking, Mrs. John, much as it goes against me; and I've +tried to drown my feelings as a man in rum-and-water. But the more +spirits I consume, Mrs. John, the more of a man I feel." + +Mr. Weston struck the top of his hat with his clenched fist, and stared +fiercely at Olivia, breathing very hard, and breathing rum-and-water +with a faint odour of lemon-peel. + +"Edward Arundel!--what about Edward Arundel?" said Olivia, in a low +eager voice. + +"I'm coming to that, Mrs. John, in due c'course," returned Mr. Weston, +with an air of dignity that was superior even to hiccough. "What I say, +Mrs. John," he added, in a confidential and argumentative tone, "is +this: _I won't be trampled upon!_" Here his voice sank to an awful +whisper. "Of course it's pleasant enough to have one's rent provided +for, and not to be kept awake by poor's-rates, Mrs. John; but, good +gracious me! I'd rather have the Queen's taxes and the poor-rates +following me up day and night, and a man in possession to provide for +at every meal--and you don't know how contemptuous a man in possession +can look at you if you offer him salt butter, or your table in a +general way don't meet his views--than the conscience I've had since +Paul Marchmont came into Lincolnshire. I feel, Mrs. John, as if I'd +committed oceans of murders. It's a miracle to me that my hair hasn't +turned white before this; and it would have done it, Mrs. J., if it +wasn't of that stubborn nature which is too wiry to give expression to +a man's sufferings. O Mrs. John, when I think how my pangs of +conscience have been made game of,--when I remember the insulting names +I have been called, because my heart didn't happen to be made of +adamant,--my blood boils; it boils, Mrs. John, to that degree, that I +feel the time has come for action. I have been put upon until the +spirit of manliness within me blazes up like a fiery furnace. I have +been trodden upon, Mrs. John; but I'm not the worm they took me for. +To-day they've put the finisher upon it." The surgeon paused to take +breath. His mild and rather sheep-like countenance was flushed; his +fluffy eyebrows twitched convulsively in his endeavours to give +expression to the violence of his feelings. "To-day they've put the +finisher upon it," he repeated. "I'm to go to Australia, am I? Ha! ha! +we'll see about that. There's a nice opening in the medical line, is +there? and dear Paul will provide the funds to start me! Ha! ha! two +can play at that game. It's all brotherly kindness, of course, and +friendly interest in my welfare--that's what it's _called_, Mrs. J. +Shall I tell you what it _is_? I'm to be got rid of, at any price, for +fear my conscience should get the better of me, and I should speak. +I've been made a tool of, and I've been trampled upon; but they've been +_obliged_ to trust me. I've got a conscience, and I don't suit their +views. If I hadn't got a conscience, I might stop here and have my rent +and taxes provided for, and riot in rum-and-water to the end of my +days. But I've a conscience that all the pineapple rum in Jamaica +wouldn't drown, and they're frightened of me." + +Olivia listened to all this with an impatient frown upon her face. I +doubt if she knew the meaning of Mr. Weston's complaints. She had been +listening only for the one name that had power to transform her from a +breathing automaton into a living, thinking, reasoning woman. She +grasped the surgeon's wrist fiercely. + +"You told me you came here to speak about Edward Arundel," she said. +"Have you been only trying to make a fool of me." + +"No, Mrs. John; I have come to speak about him, and I come to you, +because I think you're not so bad as Paul Marchmont. I think that +you've been a tool, like myself; and they've led you on, step by step, +from bad to worse, pretty much as they have led me. You're Edward +Arundel's blood-relation, and it's your business to look to any wrong +that's done him, more than it is mine. But if you don't speak, Mrs. +John, I will. Edward Arundel is going to be married." + +"Going to be married!" The words burst from Olivia's lips in a kind of +shriek, and she stood glaring hideously at the surgeon, with her lips +apart and her eyes dilated. Mr. Weston was fascinated by the horror of +that gaze, and stared at her in silence for some moments. "You are a +madman!" she exclaimed, after a pause; "you are a madman! Why do you +come here with your idiotic fancies? Surely my life is miserable enough +without this!" + +"I ain't mad, Mrs. John, any more than"--Mr. Weston was going to say, +"than you are;" but it struck him that, under existing circumstances, +the comparison might be ill-advised--"I ain't any madder than other +people," he said, presently. "Edward Arundel is going to be married. I +have seen the young lady in Kemberling with her pa; and she's a very +sweet young woman to look at; and her name is Belinda Lawford; and the +wedding is to be at eleven o'clock to-morrow morning at Hillingsworth +church." + +Olivia slowly lifted her hands to her head, and swept the loose hair +away from her brow. All the mists that had obscured her brain melted +slowly away, and showed her the past as it had really been in all its +naked horror. Yes; step by step the cruel hand had urged her on from +bad to worse; from bad to worse; until it had driven her _here_. + +It was for _this_ that she had sold her soul to the powers of hell. It +was for _this_ that she had helped to torture that innocent girl whom a +dying father had given into her pitiless hand. For this! for this! To +find at last that all her iniquity had been wasted, and that Edward +Arundel had chosen another bride--fairer, perhaps, than the first. The +mad, unholy jealousy of her nature awoke from the obscurity of mental +decay, a fierce ungovernable spirit. But another spirit arose in the +next moment. CONSCIENCE, which so long had slumbered, awoke and cried +to her, in an awful voice, "Sinner, whose sin has been wasted, repent! +restore! It is not yet too late." + +The stern precepts of her religion came back to her. She had rebelled +against those rigid laws, she had cast off those iron fetters, only to +fall into a worse bondage; only to submit to a stronger tyranny. She +had been a servant of the God of Sacrifice, and had rebelled when an +offering was demanded of her. She had cast off the yoke of her Master, +and had yielded herself up the slave of sin. And now, when she +discovered whither her chains had dragged her, she was seized with a +sudden panic, and wanted to go back to her old master. + +She stood for some minutes with her open palms pressed upon her +forehead, and her chest heaving as if a stormy sea had raged in her +bosom. + +"This marriage must not take place," she cried, at last. + +"Of course it mustn't," answered Mr. Weston; "didn't I say so just now? +And if you don't speak to Paul and prevent it, I will. I'd rather you +spoke to him, though," added the surgeon thoughtfully, "because, you +see, it would come better from you, wouldn't it now?" + +Olivia Marchmont did not answer. Her hands had dropped from her head, +and she was standing looking at the floor. + +"There shall be no marriage," she muttered, with a wild laugh. "There's +another heart to be broken--that's all. Stand aside, man," she cried; +"stand aside, and let me go to _him_; let me go to him." + +She pushed the terrified surgeon out of her pathway, and locked the +door, hurried along the passage and across the hall. She opened the +door of the western drawing-room, and went in. + +Mr. Weston stood in the corridor looking after her. He waited for a few +minutes, listening for any sound that might come from the western +drawing-room. But the wide stone hall was between him and that +apartment; and however loudly the voices might have been uplifted, no +breath of them could have reached the surgeon's ear. He waited for +about five minutes, and then crept into the lobby and let himself out +into the quadrangle. + +"At any rate, nobody can say that I'm a coward," he thought +complacently, as he went under a stone archway that led into the park. +"But what a whirlwind that woman is! O my gracious, what a perfect +whirlwind she is!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +"GOING TO BE MARRIED!" + + +Paul Marchmont was still strolling hither and thither about the room, +admiring his pictures, and smiling to himself at the recollection of +the easy manner in which he had obtained George Weston's consent to the +Australian arrangement. For in his sober moments the surgeon was ready +to submit to anything his wife and brother-in-law imposed upon him; it +was only under the influence of pineapple rum that his manhood asserted +itself. Paul was still contemplating his pictures when Olivia burst +into the room; but Mrs. Marchmont and her invalid daughter had retired +for the night, and the artist was alone,--alone with his own thoughts, +which were rather of a triumphal and agreeable character just now; for +Edward's marriage and Mr. Weston's departure were equally pleasant to +him. + +He was startled a little by Olivia's abrupt entrance, for it was not +her habit to intrude upon him or any member of that household; on the +contrary, she had shown an obstinate determination to shut herself up +in her own room, and to avoid every living creature except her servant +Barbara Simmons. + +Paul turned and confronted her very deliberately, and with the smile +that was almost habitual to him upon his thin pale lips. Her sudden +appearance had blanched his face a little; but beyond this he betrayed +no sign of agitation. + +"My dear Mrs. Marchmont, you quite startle me. It is so very unusual to +see you here, and at this hour especially." + +It did not seem as if she had heard his voice. She went sternly up to +him, with her thin listless arms hanging at her side, and her haggard +eyes fixed upon his face. + +"Is this true?" she asked. + +He started a little, in spite of himself; for he understood in a moment +what she meant. Some one, it scarcely mattered who, had told her of the +coming marriage. + +"Is what true, my dear Mrs. John?" he said carelessly. + +"Is this true that George Weston tells me?" she cried, laying her thin +hand upon his shoulder. Her wasted fingers closed involuntarily upon +the collar of his coat, her lips contracted into a ghastly smile, and a +sudden fire kindled in her eyes. A strange sensation awoke in the tips +of those tightening fingers, and thrilled through every vein of the +woman's body,--such a horrible thrill as vibrates along the nerves of a +monomaniac, when the sight of a dreadful terror in his victim's face +first arouses the murderous impulse in his breast. + +Paul's face whitened as he felt the thin finger-points tightening upon +his neck. He was afraid of Olivia. + +"My dear Mrs. John, what is it you want of me?" he said hastily. "Pray +do not be violent." + +"I am not violent." + +She dropped her hand from his breast. It was true, she was not violent. +Her voice was low; her hand fell loosely by her side. But Paul was +frightened of her, nevertheless; for he saw that if she was not +violent, she was something worse--she was dangerous. + +"Did George Weston tell me the truth just now?" she said. + +Paul bit his nether-lip savagely. George Weston had tricked him, then, +after all, and had communicated with this woman. But what of that? She +would scarcely be likely to trouble herself about this business of +Edward Arundel's marriage. She must be past any such folly as that. She +would not dare to interfere in the matter. She could not. + +"Is it true?" she said; "_is_ it? Is it true that Edward Arundel is +going to be married to-morrow?" + +She waited, looking with fixed, widely-opened eyes at Paul's face. + +"My dear Mrs. John, you take me so completely by surprise, that I----" + +"That you have not got a lying answer ready for me," said Olivia, +interrupting him. "You need not trouble yourself to invent one. I see +that George Weston told me the truth. There was reality in his words. +There is nothing but falsehood in yours." + +Paul stood looking at her, but not listening to her. Let her abuse and +upbraid him to her heart's content; it gave him leisure to reflect, and +plan his course of action; and perhaps these bitter words might exhaust +the fire within her, and leave her malleable to his skilful hands once +more. He had time to think this, and to settle his own line of conduct +while Olivia was speaking to him. It was useless to deny the marriage. +She had heard of it from George Weston, and she might hear of it from +any one else whom she chose to interrogate. It was useless to try to +stifle this fact. + +"Yes, Mrs. John," he said, "it is quite true. Your cousin, Mr. Arundel, +is going to marry Belinda Lawford; a very lucky thing for us, believe +me, as it will put an end to all questioning and watching and +suspicion, and place us beyond all danger." + +Olivia looked at him, with her bosom heaving, her breath growing +shorter and louder with every word he spoke. + +"You mean to let this be, then?" she said, when he had finished +speaking. + +"To let what be?" + +"This marriage. You will let it take place?" + +"Most certainly. Why should I prevent it?" + +"Why should you prevent it?" she cried fiercely; and then, in an +altered voice, in tones of anguish that were like a wail of despair, +she exclaimed, "O my God! my God! what a dupe I have been; what a +miserable tool in this man's hands! O my offended God! why didst Thou +so abandon me, when I turned away from Thee, and made Edward Arundel +the idol of my wicked heart?" + +Paul sank into the nearest chair, with a faint sigh of relief. + +"She will wear herself out," he thought, "and then I shall be able to +do what I like with her." + +But Olivia turned to him again while he was thinking this. + +"Do you imagine that _I_ will let this marriage take place?" she asked. + +"I do not think that you will be so mad as to prevent it. That little +mystery which you and I have arranged between us is not exactly child's +play, Mrs. John. We can neither of us afford to betray the other. Let +Edward Arundel marry, and work for his wife, and be happy; nothing +could be better for us than his marriage. Indeed, we have every reason +to be thankful to Providence for the turn that affairs have taken," Mr. +Marchmont concluded, piously. + +"Indeed!" said Olivia; "and Edward Arundel is to have another bride. He +is to be happy with another wife; and I am to hear of their happiness, +to see him some day, perhaps, sitting by her side and smiling at her, +as I have seen him smile at Mary Marchmont. He is to be happy, and I am +to know of his happiness. Another baby-faced girl is to glory in the +knowledge of his love; and I am to be quiet--I am to be quiet. Is it +for this that I have sold my soul to you, Paul Marchmont? Is it for +this I have shared your guilty secrets? Is it for this I have heard +_her_ feeble wailing sounding in my wretched feverish slumbers, as I +have heard it every night, since the day she left this house? Do you +remember what you said to me? Do you remember _how_ you tempted me? Do +you remember how you played upon my misery, and traded on the tortures +of my jealous heart? 'He has despised your love,' you said: 'will you +consent to see him happy with another woman?' That was your argument, +Paul Marchmont. You allied yourself with the devil that held possession +of my breast, and together you were too strong for me. I was set apart +to be damned, and you were the chosen instrument of my damnation. You +bought my soul, Paul Marchmont. You shall not cheat me of the price for +which I sold it. You shall hinder this marriage!" + +"You are a madwoman, Mrs. John Marchmont, or you would not propose any +such thing." + +"Go," she said, pointing to the door; "go to Edward Arundel, and do +something, no matter what, to prevent this marriage." + +"I shall do nothing of the kind." + +He had heard that a monomaniac was always to be subdued by indomitable +resolution, and he looked at Olivia, thinking to tame her by his +unfaltering glance. He might as well have tried to look the raging sea +into calmness. + +"I am not a fool, Mrs. John Marchmont," he said, "and I shall do +nothing of the kind." + +He had risen, and stood by the lamp-lit table, trifling rather +nervously with its elegant litter of delicately-bound books, +jewel-handled paper-knives, newly-cut periodicals, and pretty +fantastical toys collected by the women of the household. + +The faces of the two were nearly upon a level as they stood opposite to +each other, with only the table between them. + +"Then _I_ will prevent it!" Olivia cried, turning towards the door. + +Paul Marchmont saw the resolution stamped upon her face. She would do +what she threatened. He ran to the door and had his hand upon the lock +before she could reach it. + +"No, Mrs. John," he said, standing at the door, with his back turned to +Olivia, and his fingers busy with the bolts and key. In spite of +himself, this woman had made him a little nervous, and it was as much +as he could do to find the handle of the key. "No, no, my dear Mrs. +John; you shall not leave this house, nor this room, in your present +state of mind. If you choose to be violent and unmanageable, we will +give you the full benefit of your violence, and we will give you a +better sphere of action. A padded room will be more suitable to your +present temper, my dear madam. If you favour us with this sort of +conduct, we will find people more fitted to restrain you." + +He said all this in a sneering tone that had a trifling tremulousness +in it, while he locked the door and assured himself that it was safely +secured. Then he turned, prepared to fight out the battle somehow or +other. + +At the very moment of his turning there was a sudden crash, a shiver of +broken glass, and the cold night-wind blew into the room. One of the +long French windows was wide open, and Olivia Marchmont was gone. + +He was out upon the terrace in the next moment; but even then he was +too late, for he could not see her right or left of him upon the long +stone platform. There were three separate flights of steps, three +different paths, widely diverging across the broad grassy flat before +Marchmont Towers. How could he tell which of these ways Olivia might +have chosen? There was the great porch, and there were all manner of +stone abutments along the grim façade of the house. She might have +concealed herself behind any one of them. The night was hopelessly +dark. A pair of ponderous bronze lamps, which Paul had placed before +the principal doorway, only made two spots of light in the gloom. He +ran along the terrace, looking into every nook and corner which might +have served as a hiding-place; but he did not find Olivia. + +She had left the house with the avowed intention of doing something to +prevent the marriage. What would she do? What course would this +desperate woman take in her jealous rage? Would she go straight to +Edward Arundel and tell him----? + +Yes, this was most likely; for how else could she hope to prevent the +marriage? + +Paul stood quite still upon the terrace for a few minutes, thinking. +There was only one course for him. To try and find Olivia would be next +to hopeless. There were half-a-dozen outlets from the park. There were +ever so many different pathways through the woody labyrinth at the back +of the Towers. This woman might have taken any one of them. To waste +the night in searching for her would be worse than useless. + +There was only one thing to be done. He must countercheck this +desperate creature's movements. + +He went back to the drawing-room, shut the window, and then rang the +bell. + +There were not many of the old servants who had waited upon John +Marchmont at the Towers now. The man who answered the bell was a person +whom Paul had brought down from London. + +"Get the chesnut saddled for me, Peterson," said Mr. Marchmont. "My +poor cousin's widow has left the house, and I am going after her. She +has given me very great alarm to-night by her conduct. I tell you this +in confidence; but you can say as much to Mrs. Simmons, who knows more +about her mistress than I do. See that there's no time lost in saddling +the chesnut. I want to overtake this unhappy woman, if I can. Go and +give the order, and then bring me my hat." + +The man went away to obey his master. Paul walked to the chimneypiece +and looked at the clock. + +"They'll be gone to bed at the Grange," he thought to himself. "Will +she go there and knock them up, I wonder? Does she know that Edward's +there? I doubt that; and yet Weston may have told her. At any rate, I +can be there before her. It would take her a long time to get there on +foot. I think I did the right thing in saying what I said to Peterson. +I must have the report of her madness spread everywhere. I must face it +out. But how--but how? So long as she was quiet, I could manage +everything. But with her against me, and George Weston--oh, the cur, +the white-hearted villain, after all that I've done for him and +Lavinia! But what can a man expect when he's obliged to put his trust +in a fool?" + +He went to the window, and stood there looking out until he saw the +groom coming along the gravel roadway below the terrace, leading a +horse by the bridle. Then he put on the hat that the servant had +brought him, ran down the steps, and got into the saddle. + +"All right, Jeffreys," he said; "tell them not to expect me back till +to-morrow morning. Let Mrs. Simmons sit up for her mistress. Mrs. John +may return at any hour in the night." + +He galloped away along the smooth carriage-drive. At the lodge he +stopped to inquire if any one had been through that way. No, the woman +said; she had opened the gates for no one. Paul had expected no other +answer. There was a footpath that led to a little wicket-gate opening +on the high-road; and of course Olivia had chosen that way, which was a +good deal shorter than the carriage-drive. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE TURNING OF THE TIDE. + + +It was past two o'clock in the morning of the day which had been +appointed for Edward Arundel's wedding, when Paul Marchmont drew rein +before the white gate that divided Major Lawford's garden from the +high-road. There was no lodge, no pretence of grandeur here. An +old-fashioned garden surrounded an old-fashioned red-brick house. There +was an apple-orchard upon one side of the low white gate, and a +flower-garden, with a lawn and fish-pond, upon the other. The +carriage-drive wound sharply round to a shallow flight of steps, and a +broad door with a narrow window upon each side of it. + +Paul got off his horse at the gate, and went in, leading the animal by +the bridle. He was a Cockney, heart and soul, and had no sense of any +enjoyments that were not of a Cockney nature. So the horse he had +selected for himself was anything but a fiery creature. He liked plenty +of bone and very little blood in the steed he rode, and was contented +to go at a comfortable, jog-trot, seven-miles-an-hour pace, along the +wretched country roads. + +There was a row of old-fashioned wooden posts, with iron chains +swinging between them, upon both sides of the doorway. Paul fastened +the horse's bridle to one of these, and went up the steps. He rang a +bell that went clanging and jangling through the house in the stillness +of the summer night. All the way along the road he had looked right and +left, expecting to pass Olivia; but he had seen no sign of her. This +was nothing, however; for there were byways by which she might come +from Marchmont Towers to Lawford Grange. + +"I must be before her, at any rate," Paul thought to himself, as he +waited patiently for an answer to his summons. + +The time seemed very long to him, of course; but at last he saw a light +glimmering through the mansion windows, and heard a shuffling foot in +the hall. Then the door was opened very cautiously, and a woman's +scared face peered out at Mr. Marchmont through the opening. + +"What is it?" the woman asked, in a frightened voice. + +"It is I, Mr. Marchmont, of Marchmont Towers. Your master knows me. Mr. +Arundel is here, is he not?" + +"Yes, and Mrs. Arundel too; but they're all abed." + +"Never mind that; I must see Major Lawford immediately." + +"But they're all abed." + +"Never mind that, my good woman; I tell you I must see him." + +"But won't to-morrow mornin' do? It's near three o'clock, and +to-morrow's our eldest miss's weddin'-day; and they're all abed." + +"I _must_ see your master. For mercy's sake, my good woman, do what I +tell you! Go and call up Major Lawford,--you can do it quietly,--and +tell him I must speak to him at once." + +The woman, with the chain of the door still between her and Mr. +Marchmont, took a timid survey of Paul's face. She had heard of him +often enough, but had never seen him before, and she was rather +doubtful as to his identity. She knew that thieves and robbers resorted +to all sorts of tricks in the course of their evil vocation. Mightn't +this application for admittance in the dead of the night be only a part +of some burglarious plot against the spoons and forks, and that +hereditary silver urn with lions' heads holding rings in their mouths +for handles, the fame of which had no doubt circulated throughout all +Lincolnshire? Mr. Marchmont had neither a black mask nor a +dark-lantern, and to Martha Philpot's mind these were essential +attributes of the legitimate burglar; but he might be burglariously +disposed, nevertheless, and it would be well to be on the safe side. + +"I'll go and tell 'em," the discreet Martha said civilly; "but perhaps +you won't mind my leaving the chain oop. It ain't like as if it was +winter," she added apologetically. + +"You may shut the door, if you like," answered Paul; "only be quick and +wake your master. You can tell him that I want to see him upon a matter +of life and death." + +Martha hurried away, and Paul stood upon the broad stone steps waiting +for her return. Every moment was precious to him, for he wanted to be +beforehand with Olivia. He had no thought except that she would come +straight to the Grange to see Edward Arundel; unless, indeed, she was +by any chance ignorant of his whereabouts. + +Presently the light appeared again in the narrow windows, and this time +a man's foot sounded upon the stone-flagged hall. This time, too, +Martha let down the chain, and opened the door wide enough for Mr. +Marchmont to enter. She had no fear of burglarious marauders now that +the valiant Major was at her elbow. + +"Mr. Marchmont," exclaimed the old soldier, opening a door leading into +a little study, "you will excuse me if I seem rather bewildered by your +visit. When an old fellow like me is called up in the middle of the +night, he can't be expected to have his wits about him just at first. +(Martha, bring us a light.) Sit down, Mr. Marchmont; there's a chair at +your elbow. And now may I ask the reason----?" + +"The reason I have disturbed you in this abrupt manner. The occasion +that brings me here is a very painful one; but I believe that my coming +may save you and yours from much annoyance." + +"Save us from annoyance! Really, my dear sir, you----" + +"I mystify you for the moment, no doubt," Paul interposed blandly; "but +if you will have a little patience with me, Major Lawford, I think I +can make everything very clear,--only too painfully clear. You have +heard of my relative, Mrs. John Marchmont,--my cousin's widow?" + +"I have," answered the Major, gravely. + +The dark scandals that had been current about wretched Olivia Marchmont +came into his mind with the mention of her name, and the memory of +those miserable slanders overshadowed his frank face. + +Paul waited while Martha brought in a smoky lamp, with the half-lighted +wick sputtering and struggling in its oily socket. Then he went on, in +a calm, dispassionate voice, which seemed the voice of a benevolent +Christian, sublimely remote from other people's sorrows, but tenderly +pitiful of suffering humanity, nevertheless. + +"You have heard of my unhappy cousin. You have no doubt heard that she +is--mad?" + +He dropped his voice into so low a whisper, that he only seemed to +shape this last word with his thin flexible lips. + +"I have heard some rumour to that effect," the Major answered; "that is +to say, I have heard that Mrs. John Marchmont has lately become +eccentric in her habits." + +"It has been my dismal task to watch the slow decay of a very powerful +intellect," continued Paul. "When I first came to Marchmont Towers, +about the time of my cousin Mary's unfortunate elopement with Mr. +Arundel, that mental decay had already set in. Already the compass of +Olivia Marchmont's mind had become reduced to a monotone, and the one +dominant thought was doing its ruinous work. It was my fate to find the +clue to that sad decay; it was my fate very speedily to discover the +nature of that all-absorbing thought which, little by little, had grown +into monomania." + +Major Lawford stared at his visitor's face. He was a plain-spoken man, +and could scarcely see his way clearly through all this obscurity of +fine words. + +"You mean to say you found out what had driven your cousin's widow +mad?" he said bluntly. + +"You put the question very plainly, Major Lawford. Yes; I discovered +the secret of my unhappy relative's morbid state of mind. That secret +lies in the fact, that for the last ten years Olivia Marchmont has +cherished a hopeless affection for her cousin, Mr. Edward Arundel." + +The Major almost bounded off his chair in horrified surprise. + +"Good gracious!" he exclaimed; "you surprise me, Mr. Marchmont, +and--and--rather unpleasantly." + +"I should never have revealed this secret to you or to any other living +creature, Major Lawford, had not circumstances compelled me to do so. +As far as Mr. Arundel is concerned, I can set your mind quite at ease. +He has chosen to insult me very grossly; but let that pass. I must do +him the justice to state that I believe him to have been from first to +last utterly ignorant of the state of his cousin's mind." + +"I hope so, sir; egad, I hope so!" exclaimed the Major, rather +fiercely. "If I thought that this young man had trifled with the lady's +affection; if I thought----" + +"You need think nothing to the detriment of Mr. Arundel," answered +Paul, with placid politeness, "except that he is hot-headed, obstinate, +and foolish. He is a young man of excellent principles, and has never +fathomed the secret of his cousin's conduct towards him. I am rather a +close observer,--something of a student of human nature,--and I have +watched this unhappy woman. She loves, and has loved, her cousin Edward +Arundel; and hers is one of those concentrative natures in which a +great passion is nearly akin to a monomania. It was this hopeless, +unreturned affection that embittered her character, and made her a +harsh stepmother to my poor cousin Mary. For a long time this wretched +woman has been very quiet; but her tranquillity has been only a +deceitful calm. To-night the storm broke. Olivia Marchmont heard of the +marriage that is to take place to-morrow; and, for the first time, a +state of melancholy mania developed into absolute violence. She came to +me, and attacked me upon the subject of this intended marriage. She +accused me of having plotted to give Edward Arundel another bride; and +then, after exhausting herself by a torrent of passionate invective +against me, against her cousin Edward, your daughter,--every one +concerned in to-morrow's event,--this wretched woman rushed out of the +house in a jealous fury, declaring that she would do something--no +matter what--to hinder the celebration of Edward Arundel's second +marriage." + +"Good Heavens!" gasped the Major. "And you mean to say----" + +"I mean to say, that there is no knowing what may be attempted by a +madwoman, driven mad by a jealousy in itself almost as terrible as +madness. Olivia Marchmont has sworn to hinder your daughter's marriage. +What has not been done by unhappy creatures in this woman's state of +mind? Every day we read of such things in the newspapers--deeds of +horror at which the blood grows cold in our veins; and we wonder that +Heaven can permit such misery. It is not any frivolous motive that +brings me here in the dead of the night, Major Lawford. I come to tell +you that a desperate woman has sworn to hinder to-morrow's marriage. +Heaven knows what she may do in her jealous frenzy! She _may_ attack +your daughter." + +The father's face grew pale. His Linda, his darling, exposed to the +fury of a madwoman! He could conjure up the scene: the fair girl +clinging to her lover's breast, and desperate Olivia Marchmont swooping +down upon her like an angry tigress. + +"For mercy's sake, tell me what I am to do, Mr. Marchmont!" cried the +Major. "God bless you, sir, for bringing me this warning! But what am I +to do? What do you advise? Shall we postpone the wedding?" + +"On no account. All you have to do is to keep this wretched woman at +bay. Shut your doors upon her. Do not let her be admitted to this house +upon any pretence whatever. Get the wedding over an hour earlier than +has been intended, if it is possible for you to do so, and hurry the +bride and bridegroom away upon the first stage of their wedding-tour. +If you wish to escape all the wretchedness of a public scandal, avoid +seeing this woman." + +"I will, I will," answered the bewildered Major. "It's a most awful +situation. My poor Belinda! Her wedding-day! And a mad woman to +attempt--Upon my word, Mr. Marchmont, I don't know how to thank you for +the trouble you have taken." + +"Don't speak of that. This woman is my cousin's widow: any shame of +hers is disgrace to me. Avoid seeing her. If by any chance she does +contrive to force herself upon you, turn a deaf ear to all she may say. +She horrified me to-night by her mad assertions. Be prepared for +anything she may declare. She is possessed by all manner of delusions, +remember, and may make the most ridiculous assertions. There is no +limit to her hallucinations. She may offer to bring Edward Arundel's +dead wife from the grave, perhaps. But you will not, on any account, +allow her to obtain access to your daughter." + +"No, no--on no account. My poor Belinda! I am very grateful to you, Mr. +Marchmont, for this warning. You'll stop here for the rest of the +night? Martha's beds are always aired. You'll accept the shelter of our +spare room until to-morrow morning?" + +"You are very good, Major Lawford; but I must hurry away directly. +Remember that I am quite ignorant as to where my unhappy relative may +be wandering at this hour of the night. She may have returned to the +Towers. Her jealous fury may have exhausted itself; and in that case I +have exaggerated the danger. But, at any rate I thought it best to give +you this warning." + +"Most decidedly, my dear sir; I thank you from the bottom of my heart. +But you'll take something--wine, tea, brandy-and-water--eh?" + +Paul had put on his hat and made his way into the hall by this time. +There was no affectation in his eagerness to be away. He glanced +uneasily towards the door every now and then while the Major was +offering hospitable hindrance to his departure. He was very pale, with +a haggard, ashen pallor that betrayed his anxiety, in spite of his +bland calmness of manner. + +"You are very kind. No; I will get away at once. I have done my duty +here; I must now try and do what I can for this wretched woman. Good +night. Remember; shut your doors upon her." + +He unfastened the bridle of his horse, mounted, and rode away slowly, +so long as there was any chance of the horse's tread being heard at the +Grange. But when he was a quarter of a mile away from Major Lawford's +house, he urged the horse into a gallop. He had no spurs; but he used +his whip with a ruthless hand, and went off at a tearing pace along a +narrow lane, where the ruts were deep. + +He rode for fifteen miles; and it was grey morning when he drew rein at +a dilapidated five-barred gate leading into the great, tenantless yard +of an uninhabited farmhouse. The place had been unlet for some years; +and the land was in the charge of a hind in Mr. Marchmont's service. +The hind lived in a cottage at the other extremity of the farm; and +Paul had erected new buildings, with engine-houses and complicated +machinery for pumping the water off the low-lying lands. Thus it was +that the old farmhouse and the old farmyard were suffered to fall into +decay. The empty sties, the ruined barns and outhouses, the rotting +straw, and pools of rank corruption, made this tenantless farmyard the +very abomination of desolation. Paul Marchmont opened the gate and went +in. He picked his way very cautiously through the mud and filth, +leading his horse by the bridle till he came to an outhouse, where he +secured the animal. Then he crossed the yard, lifted the rusty latch of +a narrow wooden door set in a plastered wall, and went into a dismal +stone court, where one lonely hen was moulting in miserable solitude. + +Long rank grass grew in the interstices of the flags. The lonely hen +set up a roopy cackle, and fluttered into a corner at sight of Paul +Marchmont. There were some rabbit-hutches, tenantless; a dovecote, +empty; a dog-kennel, and a broken chain rusting slowly in a pool of +water, but no dog. The courtyard was at the back of the house, looked +down upon by a range of latticed windows, some with closed shutters, +others with shutters swinging in the wind, as if they had been fain to +beat themselves to death in very desolation of spirit. + +Mr. Marchmont opened a door and went into the house. There were empty +cellars and pantries, dairies and sculleries, right and left of him. +The rats and mice scuttled away at sound of the intruder's footfall. +The spiders ran upon the damp-stained walls, and the disturbed cobwebs +floated slowly down from the cracked ceilings and tickled Mr. +Marchmont's face. + +Farther on in the interior of the gloomy habitation Paul found a great +stone-paved kitchen, at the darkest end of which there was a rusty +grate, in which a minimum of flame struggled feebly with a maximum of +smoke. An open oven-door revealed a dreary black cavern; and the very +manner of the rusty door, and loose, half-broken handle, was an +advertisement of incapacity for any homely hospitable use. Pale, sickly +fungi had sprung up in clusters at the corners of the damp hearthstone. +Spiders and rats, damp and cobwebs, every sign by which Decay writes +its name upon the dwelling man has deserted, had set its separate mark +upon this ruined place. + +Paul Marchmont looked round him with a contemptuous shudder. He called +"Mrs. Brown! Mrs. Brown!" two or three times, each time waiting for an +answer; but none came, and Mr. Marchmont passed on into another room. + +Here at least there was some poor pretence of comfort. The room was in +the front of the house, and the low latticed window looked out upon a +neglected garden, where some tall foxgloves reared their gaudy heads +amongst the weeds. At the end of the garden there was a high brick +wall, with pear-trees trained against it, and dragon's-mouth and +wallflower waving in the morning-breeze. + +There was a bed in this room, empty; an easy-chair near the window; +near that a little table, and a _set of Indian chessmen_. Upon the bed +there were some garments scattered, as if but lately flung there; and +on the floor, near the fireplace, there were the fragments of a child's +first toys--a tiny trumpet, bought at some village fair, a baby's +rattle, and a broken horse. + +Paul Marchmont looked about him--a little puzzled at first; then with a +vague dread in his haggard face. + +"Mrs. Brown!" he cried, in a loud voice, hurrying across the room +towards an inner door as he spoke. + +The inner door was opened before Paul could reach it, and a woman +appeared; a tall, gaunt-looking woman, with a hard face and bare, +brawny arms. + +"Where, in Heaven's name, have you been hiding yourself, woman?" Paul +cried impatiently. "And where's--your patient?" + +"Gone, sir." + +"Gone! Where?" + +"With her stepmamma, Mrs. Marchmont--not half an hour ago. As it was +your wish I should stop behind to clear up, I've done so, sir; but I +did think it would have been better for me to have gone with----" + +Paul clutched the woman by the arm, and dragged her towards him. + +"Are you mad?" he cried, with an oath. "Are you mad, or drunk? Who gave +you leave to let that woman go? Who----?" + +He couldn't finish the sentence. His throat grew dry, and he gasped for +breath; while all the blood in his body seemed to rush into his swollen +forehead. + +"You sent Mrs. Marchmont to fetch my patient away, sir," exclaimed the +woman, looking frightened. "You did, didn't you? She said so!" + +"She is a liar; and you are a fool or a cheat. She paid you, I dare +say! Can't you speak, woman? Has the person I left in your care, whom +you were paid, and paid well, to take care of,--have you let her go? +Answer me that." + +"I have, sir," the woman faltered,--she was big and brawny, but there +was that in Paul Marchmont's face that frightened her +notwithstanding,--"seeing as it was your orders." + +"That will do," cried Paul Marchmont, holding up his hand and looking +at the woman with a ghastly smile; "that will do. You have ruined me; +do you hear? You have undone a work that has cost me--O my God! why do +I waste my breath in talking to such a creature as this? All my plots, +my difficulties, my struggles and victories, my long sleepless nights, +my bad dreams,--has it all come to this? Ruin, unutterable ruin, +brought upon me by a madwoman!" + +He sat down in the chair by the window, and leaned upon the table, +scattering the Indian chessmen with his elbow. He did not weep. That +relief--terrible relief though it be for a man's breast--was denied +him. He sat there with his face covered, moaning aloud. That helpless +moan was scarcely like the complaint of a man; it was rather like the +hopeless, dreary utterance of a brute's anguish; it sounded like the +miserable howling of a beaten cur. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +BELINDA'S WEDDING-DAY. + + +The sun shone upon Belinda Lawford's wedding-day. The birds were +singing in the garden under her window as she opened her lattice and +looked out. The word lattice is not a poetical license in this case; +for Miss Lawford's chamber was a roomy, old-fashioned apartment at the +back of the house, with deep window-seats and diamond-paned casements. + +The sun shone, and the roses bloomed in all their summer glory. "'Twas +in the time of roses," as gentle-minded Thomas Hood so sweetly sang; +surely the time of all others for a bridal morning. The girl looked out +into the sunshine with her loose hair falling about her shoulders, and +lingered a little looking at the familiar garden, with a half-pensive +smile. + +"Oh, how often, how often," she said, "I have walked up and down by +those laburnums, Letty!" There were two pretty white-curtained +bedsteads in the old-fashioned room, and Miss Arundel had shared her +friend's apartment for the last week. "How often mamma and I have sat +under the dear old cedar, making our poor children's frocks! People say +monotonous lives are not happy: mine has been the same thing over and +over again; and yet how happy, how happy! And to think that we"--she +paused a moment, and the rosy colour in her cheeks deepened by just one +shade; it was so sweet to use that simple monosyllable "we" when Edward +Arundel was the other half of the pronoun,--"to think that we shall be +in Paris to-morrow!" + +"Driving in the Bois," exclaimed Miss Arundel; "and dining at the +Maison Dorée, or the Café de Paris. Don't dine at Meurice's, Linda; +it's dreadfully slow dining at one's hotel. And you'll be a young +married woman, and can do anything, you know. If I were a young married +woman, I'd ask my husband to take me to the Mabille, just for half an +hour, with an old bonnet and a thick veil. I knew a girl whose +first-cousin married a cornet in the Guards, and they went to the +Mabille one night. Come, Belinda, if you mean to have your back-hair +done at all, you'd better sit down at once and let me commence +operations." + +Miss Arundel had stipulated that, upon this particular morning, she was +to dress her friend's hair; and she turned up the frilled sleeves of +her white dressing-gown, and set to work in the orthodox manner, +spreading a network of shining tresses about Miss Lawford's shoulders, +prior to the weaving of elaborate plaits that were to make a crown for +the fair young bride. Letitia's tongue went as fast as her fingers; but +Belinda was very silent. + +She was thinking of the bounteous Providence that had given her the man +she loved for her husband. She had been on her knees in the early +morning, long before Letitia's awakening, breathing out innocent +thanksgiving for the happiness that overflowed her fresh young heart. A +woman had need to be country-bred, and to have been reared in the +narrow circle of a happy home, to feel as Belinda Lawford felt. Such +love as hers is only given to bright and innocent spirits, untarnished +even by the knowledge of sin. + +Downstairs Edward Arundel was making a wretched pretence of +breakfasting _tête-à-tête_ with his future father-in-law. + +The Major had held his peace as to the unlooked-for visitant of the +past night. He had given particular orders that no stranger should be +admitted to the house, and that was all. But being of a naturally +frank, not to say loquacious disposition, the weight of this secret was +a very terrible burden to the honest half-pay soldier. He ate his dry +toast uneasily, looking at the door every now and then, in the +perpetual expectation of beholding that barrier burst open by mad +Olivia Marchmont. + +The breakfast was not a very cheerful meal, therefore. I don't suppose +any ante-nuptial breakfast ever is very jovial. There was the state +banquet--_the_ wedding breakfast--to be eaten by-and-by; and Mrs. +Lawford, attended by all the females of the establishment, was engaged +in putting the last touches to the groups of fruit and confectionery, +the pyramids of flowers, and that crowning glory, the wedding-cake. + +"Remember the Madeira and still Hock are to go round first, and then +the sparkling; and tell Gogram to be particular about the corks, +Martha," Mrs. Lawford said to her confidential maid, as she gave a +nervous last look at the table. "I was at a breakfast once where a +champagne-cork hit the bridegroom on the bridge of his nose at the very +moment he rose to return thanks; and being a nervous man, poor +fellow,--in point of fact, he was a curate, and the bride was the +rector's daughter, with two hundred a year of her own,--it quite +overcame him, and he didn't get over it all through the breakfast. And +now I must run and put on my bonnet." + +There was nothing but putting on bonnets, and pinning lace-shawls, and +wild outcries for hair-pins, and interchanging of little feminine +services, upon the bedroom floor for the next half-hour. + +Major Lawford walked up and down the hall, putting on his white gloves, +which were too large for him,--elderly men's white gloves always are +too large for them,--and watching the door of the citadel. Olivia must +pass over a father's body, the old soldier thought, before she should +annoy Belinda on her bridal morning. + +By-and-by the carriages came round to the door. The girl bridesmaids +came crowding down the stairs, hustling each other's crisped garments, +and disputing a little in a sisterly fashion; then Letitia Arundel, +with nine rustling flounces of white silk ebbing and flowing and +surging about her, and with a pleased simper upon her face; and then +followed Mrs. Arundel, stately in silver-grey moire, and Mrs. Lawford, +in violet silk--until the hall was a show of bonnets and bouquets and +muslin. + +And last of all, Belinda Lawford, robed in cloudlike garments of +spotless lace, with bridal flowers trembling round her hair, came +slowly down the broad old-fashioned staircase, to see her lover +loitering in the hall below. + +He looked very grave; but he greeted his bride with a tender smile. He +loved her, but he could not forget. Even upon this, his wedding-day, +the haunting shadow of the past was with him: not to be shaken off. + +He did not wait till Belinda reached the bottom of the staircase. There +was a sort of ceremonial law to be observed, and he was not to speak to +Miss Lawford upon this special morning until he met her in the vestry +at Hillingsworth church; so Letitia and Mrs. Arundel hustled the young +man into one of the carriages, while Major Lawford ran to receive his +daughter at the foot of the stairs. + +The Arundel carriage drove off about five minutes before the vehicle +that was to convey Major Lawford, Belinda, and as many of the girl +bridesmaids as could be squeezed into it without detriment to lace and +muslin. The rest went with Mrs. Lawford in the third and last carriage. +Hillingsworth church was about three-quarters of a mile from the +Grange. It was a pretty irregular old place, lying in a little nook +under the shadow of a great yew-tree. Behind the square Norman tower +there was a row of poplars, black against the blue summer sky; and +between the low gate of the churchyard and the grey, moss-grown porch, +there was an avenue of good old elms. The rooks were calling to each +other in the topmost branches of the trees as Major Lawford's carriage +drew up at the churchyard gate. + +Belinda was a great favourite amongst the poor of Hillingsworth parish, +and the place had put on a gala-day aspect in honour of her wedding. +Garlands of honeysuckle and wild clematis were twined about the stout +oaken gate-posts. The school-children were gathered in clusters in the +churchyard, with their pinafores full of fresh flowers from shadowy +lanes and from prim cottage-gardens,--bright homely blossoms, with the +morning dew still upon them. + +The rector and his curate were standing in the porch waiting for the +coming of the bride; and there were groups of well-dressed people +dotted about here and there in the drowsy-sheltered pews near the +altar. There were humbler spectators clustered under the low ceiling of +the gallery--tradesmen's wives and daughters, radiant with new ribbons, +and whispering to one another in delighted anticipation of the show. + +Everybody round about the Grange loved pretty, genial Belinda Lawford, +and there was universal rejoicing because of her happiness. + +The wedding party came out of the vestry presently in appointed order: +the bride with her head drooping, and her face hidden by her veil; the +bridesmaids' garments making a fluttering noise as they came up the +aisle, like the sound of a field of corn faintly stirred by summer +breezes. + +Then the grave voice of the rector began the service with the brief +preliminary exordium; and then, in a tone that grew more solemn with +the increasing solemnity of the words, he went on to that awful charge +which is addressed especially to the bridegroom and the bride: + +"I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day +of judgment, when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if +either of you know any impediment, why ye may not be lawfully joined +together in matrimony, ye do now confess it. For be ye well +assured----" + +The rector read no further; for a woman's voice from out the dusky +shadows at the further end of the church cried "Stop!" + +There was a sudden silence; people stared at each other with scared +faces, and then turned in the direction whence the voice had come. The +bride lifted her head for the first time since leaving the vestry, and +looked round about her, ashy pale and trembling. + +"O Edward, Edward!" she cried, "what is it?" + +The rector waited, with his hand still upon the open book. He waited, +looking towards the other end of the chancel. He had no need to wait +long: a woman, with a black veil thrown back from a white, haggard +face, and with dusty garments dragging upon the church-floor, came +slowly up the aisle. + +Her two hands were clasped upon her breast, and her breath came in +gasps, as if she had been running. + +"Olivia!" cried Edward Arundel, "what, in Heaven's name--" + +But Major Lawford stepped forward, and spoke to the rector. + +"Pray let her be got out of the way," he said, in a low voice. "I was +warned of this. I was quite prepared for some such disturbance." He +sank his voice to a whisper. "_She is mad!_" he said, close in the +rector's ear. + +The whisper was like whispering in general,--more distinctly audible +than the rest of the speech. Olivia Marchmont heard it. + +"Mad until to-day," she cried; "but not mad to-day. O Edward Arundel! a +hideous wrong has been done by me and through me. Your wife--your +wife--" + +"My wife! what of her? She--" + +"She is alive!" gasped Olivia; "an hour's walk from here. I came on +foot. I was tired, and I have been long coming. I thought that I should +be in time to stop you before you got to the church; but I am very +weak. I ran the last part of the way--" + +She dropped her hands upon the altar-rails, and seemed as if she would +have fallen. The rector put his arm about her to support her, and she +went on: + +"I thought I should have spared her this," she said, pointing to +Belinda; "but I can't help it. _She_ must bear her misery as well as +others. It can't be worse for her than it has been for others. She must +bear--" + +"My wife!" said Edward Arundel; "Mary, my poor sorrowful +darling--alive?" + +Belinda turned away, and buried her face upon her mother's shoulder. +She could have borne anything better than this. + +His heart--that supreme treasure, for which she had rendered up thanks +to her God--had never been hers after all. A word, a breath, and she +was forgotten; his thoughts went back to that other one. There was +unutterable joy, there was unspeakable tenderness in his tone, as he +spoke of Mary Marchmont, though _she_ stood by his side, in all her +foolish bridal finery, with her heart newly broken. + +"O mother," she cried, "take me away! take me away, before I die!" + +Olivia flung herself upon her knees by the altar-rails. Where the pure +young bride was to have knelt by her lover's side this wretched sinner +cast herself down, sunk far below all common thoughts in the black +depth of her despair. + +"O my sin, my sin!" she cried, with clasped hands lifted up above her +head. "Will God ever forgive my sin? will God ever have pity upon me? +Can He pity, can He forgive, such guilt as mine? Even this work of +to-day is no atonement to be reckoned against my wickedness. I was +jealous of this other woman; I was jealous! Earthly passion was still +predominant in this miserable breast." + +She rose suddenly, as if this outburst had never been, and laid her +hand upon Edward Arundel's arm. + +"Come!" she said; "come!" + +"To her--to Mary--my wife?" + +They had taken Belinda away by this time; but Major Lawford stood +looking on. He tried to draw Edward aside; but Olivia's hand upon the +young man's arm held him like a vice. + +"She is mad," whispered the Major. "Mr. Marchmont came to me last +night, and warned me of all this. He told me to be prepared for +anything; she has all sorts of delusions. Get her away, if you can, +while I go and explain matters to Belinda. Edward, if you have a spark +of manly feeling, get this woman away." + +But Olivia held the bridegroom's arm with a tightening grasp. + +"Come!" she said; "come! Are you turned to stone, Edward Arundel? Is +your love worth no more than this? I tell you, your wife, Mary +Marchmont, is alive. Let those who doubt me come and see for +themselves." + +The eager spectators, standing up in the pews or crowding in the narrow +aisle, were only too ready to respond to this invitation. + +Olivia led her cousin out into the churchyard; she led him to the gate +where the carriages were waiting. The crowd flocked after them; and the +people outside began to cheer as they came out. That cheer was the +signal for which the school-children had waited; and they set to work +scattering flowers upon the narrow pathway, before they looked up to +see who was coming to trample upon the rosebuds and jessamine, the +woodbine and seringa. But they drew back, scared and wondering, as +Olivia came along the pathway, sweeping those tender blossoms after her +with her trailing black garments, and leading the pale bridegroom by +his arm. + +She led him to the door of the carriage beside which Major Lawford's +gray-haired groom was waiting, with a big white satin favour pinned +upon his breast, and a bunch of roses in his button hole. There were +favours in the horses' ears, and favours upon the breasts of the +Hillingsworth tradespeople who supplied bread and butcher's meat and +grocery to the family at the Grange. The bell-ringers up in the +church-tower saw the crowd flock out of the porch, and thought the +marriage ceremony was over. The jangling bells pealed out upon the hot +summer air as Edward stood by the churchyard-gate, with Olivia +Marchmont by his side. + +"Lend me your carriage," he said to Major Lawford, "and come with me. I +must see the end of this. It may be all a delusion; but I must see the +end of it. If there is any truth in instinct, I believe that I shall +see my wife--alive." + +He got into the carriage without further ceremony, and Olivia and Major +Lawford followed him. + +"Where is my wife?" the young man asked, letting down the front window +as he spoke. + +"At Kemberling, at Hester Jobson's." + +"Drive to Kemberling," Edward said to the coachman,--"to Kemberling +High Street, as fast as you can go." + +The man drove away from the churchyard-gate. The humbler spectators, +who were restrained by no niceties of social etiquette, hurried after +the vehicle, raising white clouds of dust upon the high road with their +eager feet. The higher classes lingered about the churchyard, talking +to each other and wondering. + +Very few people stopped to think of Belinda Lawford. "Let the stricken +deer go weep." A stricken deer is a very uninteresting object when +there are hounds in full cry hard by, and another deer to be hunted. + +"Since when has my wife been at Kemberling?" Edward Arundel asked +Olivia, as the carriage drove along the high road between the two +villages. + +"Since daybreak this morning." + +"Where was she before then?" + +"At Stony-Stringford Farm." + +"And before then?" + +"In the pavilion over the boat-house at Marchmont." + +"My God! And--" + +The young man did not finish his sentence. He put his head out of the +window, looking towards Kemberling, and straining his eyes to catch the +earliest sight of the straggling village street. + +"Faster!" he cried every now and then to the coachman; "faster!" + +In little more than half an hour from the time at which it had left the +churchyard-gate, the carriage stopped before the little carpenter's +shop. Mr. Jobson's doorway was adorned by a painted representation of +two very doleful-looking mutes standing at a door; for Hester's husband +combined the more aristocratic avocation of undertaker with the homely +trade of carpenter and joiner. + +Olivia Marchmont got out of the carriage before either of the two men +could alight to assist her. Power was the supreme attribute of this +woman's mind. Her purpose never faltered; from the moment she had left +Marchmont Towers until now, she had known neither rest of body nor +wavering of intention. + +"Come," she said to Edward Arundel, looking back as she stood upon the +threshold of Mr. Jobson's door; "and you too," she added, turning to +Major Lawford,--"follow us, and _see_ whether I am MAD." + +She passed through the shop, and into that prim, smart parlour in which +Edward Arundel had lamented his lost wife. + +The latticed windows were wide open, and the warm summer sunshine +filled the room. + +A girl, with loose tresses of hazel-brown hair falling about her face, +was sitting on the floor, looking down at a beautiful fair-haired +nursling of a twelvemonth old. + +The girl was John Marchmont's daughter; the child was Edward Arundel's +son. It was _his_ childish cry that the young man had heard upon that +October night in the pavilion by the water. + +"Mary Arundel," said Olivia, in a hard voice, "I give you back your +husband." + +The young mother got up from the ground with a low cry, tottered +forward, and fell into her husband's arms. + +"They told me you were dead! They made me believe that you were dead!" +she said, and then fainted on the young man's breast. Edward carried +her to a sofa and laid her down, white and senseless; and then knelt +down beside her, crying over her, and sobbing out inarticulate +thanksgiving to the God who had given his lost wife back to him. + +"Poor sweet lamb!" murmured Hester Jobson; "she's as weak as a baby; +and she's gone through so much a'ready this morning." + +It was some time before Edward Arundel raised his head from the pillow +upon which his wife's pale face lay, half hidden amid the tangled hair. +But when he did look up, he turned to Major Lawford and stretched out +his hand. + +"Have pity upon me," he said. "I have been the dupe of a villain. Tell +your poor child how much I esteem her, how much I regret that--that--we +should have loved each other as we have. The instinct of my heart would +have kept me true to the past; but it was impossible to know your +daughter and not love her. The villain who has brought this sorrow upon +us shall pay dearly for his infamy. Go back to your daughter; tell her +everything. Tell her what you have seen here. I know her heart, and I +know that she will open her arms to this poor ill-used child." + +The Major went away very downcast. Hester Jobson bustled about bringing +restoratives and pillows, stopping every now and then in an outburst of +affection by the slippery horsehair couch on which Mary lay. + +Mrs. Jobson had prepared her best bedroom for her beloved visitor, and +Edward carried his young wife up to the clean, airy chamber. He went +back to the parlour to fetch the child. He carried the fair-haired +little one up-stairs in his own arms; but I regret to say that the +infant showed an inclination to whimper in his newly-found father's +embrace. It is only in the British Drama that newly discovered fathers +are greeted with an outburst of ready-made affection. Edward Arundel +went back to the sitting-room presently, and sat down, waiting till +Hester should bring him fresh tidings of his wife. Olivia Marchmont +stood by the window, with her eyes fixed upon Edward. + +"Why don't you speak to me?" she said presently. "Can you find no words +that are vile enough to express your hatred of me? Is that why you are +silent?" + +"No, Olivia," answered the young man, calmly. "I am silent, because I +have nothing to say to you. Why you have acted as you have acted,--why +you have chosen to be the tool of a black-hearted villain,--is an +unfathomable mystery to me. I thank God that your conscience was +aroused this day, and that you have at least hindered the misery of an +innocent girl. But why you have kept my wife hidden from me,--why you +have been the accomplice of Paul Marchmont's crime,--is more than I can +even attempt to guess." + +"Not yet?" said Olivia, looking at him with a strange smile. "Even yet +I am a mystery to you?" + +"You are, indeed, Olivia." + +She turned away from him with a laugh. + +"Then I had better remain so till the end," she said, looking out into +the garden. But after a moment's silence she turned her head once more +towards the young man. "I will speak," she said; "I _will_ speak, +Edward Arundel. I hope and believe that I have not long to live, and +that all my shame and misery, my obstinate wickedness, my guilty +passion, will come to an end, like a long feverish dream. O God, have +mercy on my waking, and make it brighter than this dreadful sleep! I +loved you, Edward Arundel. Ah! you start. Thank God at least for that. +I kept my secret well. You don't know what that word 'love' means, do +you? You think you love that childish girl yonder, perhaps; but I can +tell you that you don't know what love is. _I_ know what it is. I have +loved. For ten years,--for ten long, dreary, desolate, miserable years, +fifty-two weeks in every year, fifty-two Sundays, with long idle hours +between the two church services--I have loved you, Edward. Shall I tell +you what it is to love? It is to suffer, to hate, yes, to hate even the +object of your love, when that love is hopeless; to hate him for the +very attributes that have made you love him; to grudge the gifts and +graces that have made him dear. It is to hate every creature on whom +his eyes look with greater tenderness than they look on you; to watch +one face until its familiar lines become a perpetual torment to you, +and you cannot sleep because of its eternal presence staring at you in +all your dreams. It is to be like some wretched drunkard, who loathes +the fiery spirit that is destroying him, body and soul, and yet goes +on, madly drinking, till he dies. Love! How many people upon this great +earth know the real meaning of that hideous word! I have learnt it +until my soul loathes the lesson. They will tell you that I am mad, +Edward, and they will tell you something near the truth; but not quite +the truth. My madness has been my love. From long ago, when you were +little more than a boy--you remember, don't you, the long days at the +Rectory? _I_ remember every word you ever spoke to me, every sentiment +you ever expressed, every look of your changing face--you were the +first bright thing that came across my barren life; and I loved you. I +married John Marchmont--why, do you think?--because I wanted to make a +barrier between you and me. I wanted to make my love for you impossible +by making it a sin. So long as my husband lived, I shut your image out +of my mind as I would have shut out the Prince of Darkness, if he had +come to me in a palpable shape. But since then--oh, I hope I have been +mad since then; I hope that God may forgive my sins because I have been +mad!" + +Her thoughts wandered away to that awful question which had been so +lately revived in her mind--Could she be forgiven? Was it within the +compass of heavenly mercy to forgive such a sin as hers? + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +MARY'S STORY. + + +One of the minor effects of any great shock, any revolution, natural or +political, social or domestic, is a singular unconsciousness, or an +exaggerated estimate, of the passage of time. Sometimes we fancy that +the common functions of the universe have come to a dead stop during +the tempest which has shaken our being to its remotest depths. +Sometimes, on the other hand, it seems to us that, because we have +endured an age of suffering, or half a lifetime of bewildered joy, the +terrestrial globe has spun round in time to the quickened throbbing of +our passionate hearts, and that all the clocks upon earth have been +standing still. + +When the sun sank upon the summer's day that was to have been the day +of Belinda's bridal, Edward Arundel thought that it was still early in +the morning. He wondered at the rosy light all over the western sky, +and that great ball of molten gold dropping down below the horizon. He +was fain to look at his watch, in order to convince himself that the +low light was really the familiar sun, and not some unnatural +appearance in the heavens. + +And yet, although he wondered at the closing of the day, with a strange +inconsistency his mind could scarcely grapple with the idea that only +last night he had sat by Belinda Lawford's side, her betrothed husband, +and had pondered, Heaven only knows with what sorrowful regret, upon +the unknown grave in which his dead wife lay. + +"I only knew it this morning," he thought; "I only knew this morning +that my young wife still lives, and that I have a son." + +He was sitting by the open window in Hester Jobson's best bedroom. He +was sitting in an old-fashioned easy-chair, placed between the head of +the bed and the open window,--a pure cottage window, with diamond panes +of thin greenish glass, and a broad painted ledge, with a great jug of +homely garden-flowers standing on it. The young man was sitting by the +side of the bed upon which his newly-found wife and son lay asleep; the +child's head nestled on his mother's breast, one flushed cheek peeping +out of a tangled confusion of hazel-brown and babyish flaxen hair. + +The white dimity curtains overshadowed the loving sleepers. The pretty +fluffy knotted fringe--neat Hester's handiwork--made fantastical +tracery upon the sunlit counterpane. Mary slept with one arm folded +round her child, and with her face turned to her husband. She had +fallen asleep with her hand clasped in his, after a succession of +fainting-fits that had left her terribly prostrate. + +Edward Arundel watched that tender picture with a smile of ineffable +affection. + +"I can understand now why Roman Catholics worship the Virgin Mary," he +thought. "I can comprehend the inspiration that guided Raphael's hand +when he painted the Madonna de la Chaise. In all the world there is no +picture so beautiful. From all the universe he could have chosen no +subject more sublime. O my darling wife, given back to me out of the +grave, restored to me,--and not alone restored! My little son! my +baby-son! whose feeble voice I heard that dark October night. To think +that I was so wretched a dupe! to think that my dull ears could hear +that sound, and no instinct rise up in my heart to reveal the presence +of my child! I was so near them, not once, but several times,--so near, +and I never knew--I never guessed!" + +He clenched his fists involuntarily at the remembrance of those +purposeless visits to the lonely boat-house. His young wife was +restored to him. But nothing could wipe away the long interval of agony +in which he and she had been the dupe of a villanous trickster and a +jealous woman. Nothing could give back the first year of that baby's +life,--that year which should have been one long holiday of love and +rejoicing. Upon what a dreary world those innocent eyes had opened, +when they should have looked only upon sunshine and flowers, and the +tender light of a loving father's smile! + +"O my darling, my darling!" the young husband thought, as he looked at +his wife's wan face, upon which the evidence of all that past agony was +only too painfully visible,--"how bitterly we two have suffered! But +how much more terrible must have been your suffering than mine, my poor +gentle darling, my broken lily!" + +In his rapture at finding the wife he had mourned as dead, the young +man had for a time almost forgotten the villanous plotter who had kept +her hidden from him. But now, as he sat quietly by the bed upon which +Mary and her baby lay, he had leisure to think of Paul Marchmont. + +What was he to do with that man? What vengeance could he wreak upon the +head of that wretch who, for nearly two years, had condemned an +innocent girl to cruel suffering and shame? To shame; for Edward knew +now that one of the most bitter tortures which Paul Marchmont had +inflicted upon his cousin had been his pretended disbelief in her +marriage. + +"What can I do to him?" the young man asked himself. "_What_ can I do +to him? There is no personal chastisement worse than that which he has +endured already at my hands. The scoundrel! the heartless villain! the +false, cold-blooded cur! What can I do to him? I can only repeat that +shameful degradation, and I _will_ repeat it. This time he shall howl +under the lash like some beaten hound. This time I will drag him +through the village-street, and let every idle gossip in Kemberling see +how a scoundrel writhes under an honest man's whip. I will--" + +Edward Arundel's wife woke while he was thinking what chastisement he +should inflict upon her deadly foe; and the baby opened his round +innocent blue eyes in the next moment, and sat up, staring at his new +parent. + +Mr. Arundel took the child in his arms, and held him very tenderly, +though perhaps rather awkwardly. The baby's round eyes opened wider at +sight of those golden absurdities dangling at his father's watch-chain, +and the little pudgy hands began to play with the big man's lockets and +seals. + +"He comes to me, you see, Mary!" Edward said, with naïve wonder. + +And then he turned the baby's face towards him, and tenderly +contemplated the bright surprised blue eyes, the tiny dimples, the soft +moulded chin. I don't know whether fatherly vanity prompted the fancy, +but Edward Arundel certainly did believe that he saw some faint +reflection of his own features in that pink and white baby-face; a +shadowy resemblance, like a tremulous image looking up out of a river. +But while Edward was half-thinking this, half-wondering whether there +could be any likeness to him in that infant countenance, Mary settled +the question with womanly decision. + +"Isn't he like you, Edward?" she whispered. "It was only for his sake +that I bore my life all through that miserable time; and I don't think +I could have lived even for him, if he hadn't been so like you. I used +to look at his face sometimes for hours and hours together, crying over +him, and thinking of you. I don't think I ever cried except when he was +in my arms. Then something seemed to soften my heart, and the tears +came to my eyes. I was very, very, very ill, for a long time before my +baby was born; and I didn't know how the time went, or where I was. I +used to fancy sometimes I was back in Oakley Street, and that papa was +alive again, and that we were quite happy together, except for some +heavy hammer that was always beating, beating, beating upon both our +heads, and the dreadful sound of the river rushing down the street +under our windows. I heard Mr. Weston tell his wife that it was a +miracle I lived through that time." + +Hester Jobson came in presently with a tea-tray, that made itself +heard, by a jingling of teaspoons and rattling of cups and saucers, all +the way up the narrow staircase. + +The friendly carpenter's wife had produced her best china and her +silver teapot,--an heirloom inherited from a wealthy maiden aunt of her +husband's. She had been busy all the afternoon, preparing that elegant +little collation of cake and fruit which accompanied the tea-tray; and +she spread the lavender-scented table-cloth, and arranged the cups and +saucers, the plates and dishes, with mingled pride and delight. + +But she had to endure a terrible disappointment by-and-by; for neither +of her guests was in a condition to do justice to her hospitality. Mary +got up and sat in the roomy easy-chair, propped up with pillows. Her +pensive eyes kept a loving watch upon the face of her husband, turned +towards her own, and slightly crimsoned by that rosy flush fading out +in the western sky. She sat up and sipped a cup of tea; and in that +lovely summer twilight, with the scent of the flowers blowing in +through the open window, and a stupid moth doing his best to beat out +his brains against one of the diamond panes in the lattice, the +tortured heart, for the first time since the ruthless close of that +brief honeymoon, felt the heavenly delight of repose. + +"O Edward!" murmured the young wife, "how strange it seems to be +happy!" + +He was at her feet, half-kneeling, half-sitting on a hassock of +Hester's handiwork, with both his wife's hands clasped in his, and his +head leaning upon the arm of her chair. Hester Jobson had carried off +the baby, and these two were quite alone, all in all to each other, +with a cruel gap of two years to be bridged over by sorrowful memories, +by tender words of consolation. They were alone, and they could talk +quite freely now, without fear of interruption; for although in purity +and beauty an infant is first cousin to the angels, and although I most +heartily concur in all that Mr. Bennett and Mr. Buchanan can say or +sing about the species, still it must be owned that a baby _is_ rather +a hindrance to conversation, and that a man's eloquence does not flow +quite so smoothly when he has to stop every now and then to rescue his +infant son from the imminent peril of strangulation, caused by a futile +attempt at swallowing one of his own fists. + +Mary and Edward were alone; they were together once more, as they had +been by the trout-stream in the Winchester meadows. A curtain had +fallen upon all the wreck and ruin of the past, and they could hear the +soft, mysterious music that was to be the prelude of a new act in +life's drama. + +"I shall try to forget all that time," Mary said presently; "I shall +try to forget it, Edward. I think the very memory of it would kill me, +if it was to come back perpetually in the midst of my joy, as it does +now, even now, when I am so happy--so happy that I dare not speak of my +happiness." + +She stopped, and her face drooped upon her husband's clustering hair. + +"You are crying, Mary!" + +"Yes, dear. There is something painful in happiness when it comes after +such suffering." + +The young man lifted his head, and looked in his wife's face. How +deathly pale it was, even in that shadowy twilight; how worn and +haggard and wasted since it had smiled at him in his brief honeymoon. +Yes, joy is painful when it comes after a long continuance of +suffering; it is painful because we have become sceptical by reason of +the endurance of such anguish. We have lost the power to believe in +happiness. It comes, the bright stranger; but we shrink appalled from +its beauty, lest, after all, it should be nothing but a phantom. + +Heaven knows how anxiously Edward Arundel looked at his wife's altered +face. Her eyes shone upon him with the holy light of love. She smiled +at him with a tender, reassuring smile; but it seemed to him that there +was something almost supernal in the brightness of that white, wasted +face; something that reminded him of the countenance of a martyr who +has ceased to suffer the anguish of death in a foretaste of the joys of +Heaven. + +"Mary," he said, presently, "tell me every cruelty that Paul Marchmont +or his tools inflicted upon you; tell me everything, and I will never +speak of our miserable separation again. I will only punish the cause +of it," he added, in an undertone. "Tell me, dear. It will be painful +for you to speak of it; but it will be only once. There are some things +I must know. Remember, darling, that you are in my arms now, and that +nothing but death can ever again part us." + +The young man had his arms round his wife. He felt, rather than heard, +a low plaintive sigh as he spoke those last words. + +"Nothing but death, Edward; nothing but death," Mary said, in a solemn +whisper. "Death would not come to me when I was very miserable. I used +to pray that I might die, and the baby too; for I could not have borne +to leave him behind. I thought that we might both be buried with you, +Edward. I have dreamt sometimes that I was lying by your side in a +tomb, and I have stretched out my dead hand to clasp yours. I used to +beg and entreat them to let me be buried with you when I died; for I +believed that you were dead, Edward. I believed it most firmly. I had +not even one lingering hope that you were alive. If I had felt such a +hope, no power upon earth would have kept me prisoner." + +"The wretches!" muttered Edward between his set teeth; "the dastardly +wretches! the foul liars!" + +"Don't, Edward; don't, darling. There is a pain in my heart when I hear +you speak like that. I know how wicked they have been; how cruel--how +cruel. I look back at all my suffering as if it were some one else who +suffered; for now that you are with me I cannot believe that miserable, +lonely, despairing creature was really me, the same creature whose head +now rests upon your shoulder, whose breath is mixed with yours. I look +back and see all my past misery, and I cannot forgive them, Edward; I +am very wicked, for I cannot forgive my cousin Paul and his +sister--yet. But I don't want you to speak of them; I only want you to +love me; I only want you to smile at me, and tell me again and again +and again that nothing can part us now--but death." + +She paused for a few moments, exhausted by having spoken so long. Her +head lay upon her husband's shoulder, and she clung a little closer to +him, with a slight shiver. + +"What is the matter, darling?" + +"I feel as if it couldn't be real." + +"What, dear?" + +"The present--all this joy. Edward, is it real? Is it--is it? Or am I +only dreaming? Shall I wake presently and feel the cold air blowing in +at the window, and see the moonlight on the wainscot at Stony +Stringford? Is it all real?" + +"It is, my precious one. As real as the mercy of God, who will give you +compensation for all you have suffered; as real as God's vengeance, +which will fall most heavily upon your persecutors. And now, darling, +tell me,--tell me all. I must know the story of these two miserable +years during which I have mourned for my lost love." + +Mr. Arundel forgot to mention that during those two miserable years he +had engaged himself to become the husband of another woman. But +perhaps, even when he is best and truest, a man is always just a shade +behind a woman in the matter of constancy. + +"When you left me in Hampshire, Edward, I was very, very miserable," +Mary began, in a low voice; "but I knew that it was selfish and wicked +of me to think only of myself. I tried to think of your poor father, +who was ill and suffering; and I prayed for him, and hoped that he +would recover, and that you would come back to me very soon. The people +at the inn were very kind to me. I sat at the window from morning till +night upon the day after you left me, and upon the day after that; for +I was so foolish as to fancy, every time I heard the sound of horses' +hoofs or carriage-wheels upon the high-road, that you were coming back +to me, and that all my grief was over. I sat at the window and watched +the road till I knew the shape of every tree and housetop, every ragged +branch of the hawthorn-bushes in the hedge. At last--it was the third +day after you went away--I heard carriage-wheels, that slackened as +they came to the inn. A fly stopped at the door, and oh, Edward, I did +not wait to see who was in it,--I never imagined the possibility of its +bringing anybody but you. I ran down-stairs, with my heart beating so +that I could hardly breathe; and I scarcely felt the stairs under my +feet. But when I got to the door--O my love, my love!--I cannot bear to +think of it; I cannot endure the recollection of it--" + +She stopped, gasping for breath, and clinging to her husband; and then, +with an effort, went on again: + +"Yes; I will tell you, dear; I must tell you. My cousin Paul and my +stepmother were standing in the little hall at the foot of the stairs. +I think I fainted in my stepmother's arms; and when my consciousness +came back, I was in our sitting-room,--the pretty rustic room, Edward, +in which you and I had been so happy together. + +"I must not stop to tell you everything. It would take me so long to +speak of all that happened in that miserable time. I knew that +something must be wrong, from my cousin Paul's manner; but neither he +nor my stepmother would tell me what it was. I asked them if you were +dead; but they said, 'No, you were not dead.' Still I could see that +something dreadful had happened. But by-and-by, by accident, I saw your +name in a newspaper that was lying on the table with Paul's hat and +gloves. I saw the description of an accident on the railway, by which I +knew you had travelled. My heart sank at once, and I think I guessed +all that had happened. I read your name amongst those of the people who +had been dangerously hurt. Paul shook his head when I asked him if +there was any hope. + +"They brought me back here. I scarcely know how I came, how I endured +all that misery. I implored them to let me come to you, again and +again, on my knees at their feet. But neither of them would listen to +me. It was impossible, Paul said. He always seemed very, very kind to +me; always spoke softly; always told me that he pitied me, and was +sorry for me. But though my stepmother looked sternly at me, and spoke, +as she always used to speak, in a harsh, cold voice, I sometimes think +she might have given way at last and let me come to you, but for +him--but for my cousin Paul. He could look at me with a smile upon his +face when I was almost mad with my misery; and he never wavered; he +never hesitated. + +"So they took me back to the Towers. I let them take me; for I scarcely +felt my sorrow any longer. I only felt tired; oh, so dreadfully tired; +and I wanted to lie down upon the ground in some quiet place, where no +one could come near me. I thought that I was dying. I believe I was +very ill when we got back to the Towers. My stepmother and Barbara +Simmons watched by my bedside, day after day, night after night. +Sometimes I knew them; sometimes I had all sorts of fancies. And +often--ah, how often, darling!--I thought that you were with me. My +cousin Paul came every day, and stood by my bedside. I can't tell you +how hateful it was to me to have him there. He used to come into the +room as silently as if he had been walking upon snow; but however +noiselessly he came, however fast asleep I was when he entered the +room, I always knew that he was there, standing by my bedside, smiling +at me. I always woke with a shuddering horror thrilling through my +veins, as if a rat had run across my face. + +"By-and-by, when the delirium was quite gone, I felt ashamed of myself +for this. It seemed so wicked to feel this unreasonable antipathy to my +dear father's cousin; but he had brought me bad news of you, Edward, +and it was scarcely strange that I should hate him. One day he sat down +by my bedside, when I was getting better, and was strong enough to +talk. There was no one besides ourselves in the room, except my +stepmother, and she was standing at the window, with her head turned +away from us, looking out. My cousin Paul sat down by the bedside, and +began to talk to me in that gentle, compassionate way that used to +torture me and irritate me in spite of myself. + +"He asked me what had happened to me after my leaving the Towers on the +day after the ball. + +"I told him everything, Edward--about your coming to me in Oakley +Street; about our marriage. But, oh, my darling, my husband, he +wouldn't believe me; he wouldn't believe. Nothing that I could say +would make him believe me. Though I swore to him again and again--by my +dead father in heaven, as I hoped for the mercy of my God--that I had +spoken the truth, and the truth only, he wouldn't believe me; he +wouldn't believe. He shook his head, and said he scarcely wondered I +should try to deceive him; that it was a very sad story, a very +miserable and shameful story, and my attempted falsehood was little +more than natural. + +"And then he spoke against you, Edward--against you. He talked of my +childish ignorance, my confiding love, and your villany. O Edward, he +said such shameful things; such shameful, horrible things! You had +plotted to become master of my fortune; to get me into your power, +because of my money; and you had not married me. You had _not_ married +me; he persisted in saying that. + +"I was delirious again after this; almost mad, I think. All through the +delirium I kept telling my cousin Paul of our marriage. Though he was +very seldom in the room, I constantly thought that he was there, and +told him the same thing--the same thing--till my brain was on fire. I +don't know how long it lasted. I know that, once in the middle of the +night, I saw my stepmother lying upon the ground, sobbing aloud and +crying out about her wickedness; crying out that God would never +forgive her sin. + +"I got better at last, and then I went downstairs; and I used to sit +sometimes in poor papa's study. The blind was always down, and none of +the servants, except Barbara Simmons, ever came into the room. My +cousin Paul did not live at the Towers; but he came there every day, +and often stayed there all day. He seemed the master of the house. My +stepmother obeyed him in everything, and consulted him about +everything. + +"Sometimes Mrs. Weston came. She was like her brother. She always +smiled at me with a grave compassionate smile, just like his; and she +always seemed to pity me. But she wouldn't believe in my marriage. She +spoke cruelly about you, Edward; cruelly, but in soft words, that +seemed only spoken out of compassion for me. No one would believe in my +marriage. + +"No stranger was allowed to see me. I was never suffered to go out. +They treated me as if I was some shameful creature, who must be hidden +away from the sight of the world. + +"One day I entreated my cousin Paul to go to London and see Mrs. +Pimpernel. She would be able to tell him of our marriage. I had +forgotten the name of the clergyman who married us, and the church at +which we were married. And I could not tell Paul those; but I gave him +Mrs. Pimpernel's address. And I wrote to her, begging her to tell my +cousin, all about my marriage; and I gave him the note unsealed. + +"He went to London about a week afterwards; and when he came back, he +brought me my note. He had been to Oakley Street, he said; but Mrs. +Pimpernel had left the neighbourhood, and no one knew where she was +gone." + +"A lie! a villanous lie!" muttered Edward Arundel. "Oh, the scoundrel! +the infernal scoundrel!" + +"No words would ever tell the misery of that time; the bitter anguish; +the unendurable suspense. When I asked them about you, they would tell +me nothing. Sometimes I thought that you had forgotten me; that you had +only married me out of pity for my loneliness; and that you were glad +to be freed from me. Oh, forgive me, Edward, for that wicked thought; +but I was so very miserable, so utterly desolate. At other times I +fancied that you were very ill, helpless, and unable to come to me. I +dared not think that you were dead. I put away that thought from me +with all my might; but it haunted me day and night. It was with me +always like a ghost. I tried to shut it away from my sight; but I knew +that it was there. + +"The days were all alike,--long, dreary, and desolate; so I scarcely +know how the time went. My stepmother brought me religious books, and +told me to read them; but they were hard, difficult books, and I +couldn't find one word of comfort in them. They must have been written +to frighten very obstinate and wicked people, I think. The only book +that ever gave me any comfort, was that dear Book I used to read to +papa on a Sunday evening in Oakley Street. I read that, Edward, in +those miserable days; I read the story of the widow's only son who was +raised up from the dead because his mother was so wretched without him. +I read that sweet, tender story again and again, until I used to see +the funeral train, the pale, still face upon the bier, the white, +uplifted hand, and that sublime and lovely countenance, whose image +always comes to us when we are most miserable, the tremulous light upon +the golden hair, and in the distance the glimmering columns of white +temples, the palm-trees standing out against the purple Eastern sky. I +thought that He who raised up a miserable woman's son chiefly because +he was her only son, and she was desolate without him, would have more +pity upon me than the God in Olivia's books: and I prayed to Him, +Edward, night and day, imploring Him to bring you back to me. + +"I don't know what day it was, except that it was autumn, and the dead +leaves were blowing about in the quadrangle, when my stepmother sent +for me one afternoon to my room, where I was sitting, not reading, not +even thinking--only sitting with my head upon my hands, staring +stupidly out at the drifting leaves and the gray, cold sky. My +stepmother was in papa's study; and I was to go to her there. I went, +and found her standing there, with a letter crumpled up in her clenched +hand, and a slip of newspaper lying on the table before her. She was as +white as death, and she was trembling violently from head to foot. + +"'See,' she said, pointing to the paper; 'your lover is dead. But for +you he would have received the letter that told him of his father's +illness upon an earlier day; he would have gone to Devonshire by a +different train. It was by your doing that he travelled when he did. If +this is true, and he is dead, his blood be upon your head; his blood be +upon your head!' + +"I think her cruel words were almost exactly those. I did not hope for +a minute that those horrible lines in the newspaper were false. I +thought they must be true, and I was mad, Edward--I was mad; for utter +despair came to me with the knowledge of your death. I went to my own +room, and put on my bonnet and shawl; and then I went out of the house, +down into that dreary wood, and along the narrow pathway by the +river-side. I wanted to drown myself; but the sight of the black water +filled me with a shuddering horror. I was frightened, Edward; and I +went on by the river, scarcely knowing where I was going, until it was +quite dark; and I was tired, and sat down upon the damp ground by the +brink of the river, all amongst the broad green flags and the wet +rushes. I sat there for hours, and I saw the stars shining feebly in a +dark sky. I think I was delirious, for sometimes I knew that I was +there by the water side, and then the next minute I thought that I was +in my bedroom at the Towers; sometimes I fancied that I was with you in +the meadows near Winchester, and the sun was shining, and you were +sitting by my side, and I could see your float dancing up and down in +the sunlit water. At last, after I had been there a very, very long +time, two people came with a lantern, a man and a woman; and I heard a +startled voice say, 'Here she is; here, lying on the ground!' And then +another voice, a woman's voice, very low and frightened, said, 'Alive!' +And then two people lifted me up; the man carried me in his arms, and +the woman took the lantern. I couldn't speak to them; but I knew that +they were my cousin Paul and his sister, Mrs. Weston. I remember being +carried some distance in Paul's arms; and then I think I must have +fainted away, for I can recollect nothing more until I woke up one day +and found myself lying in a bed in the pavilion over the boat-house, +with Mr. Weston watching by my bedside. + +"I don't know how the time passed; I only know that it seemed endless. +I think my illness was rheumatic fever, caught by lying on the damp +ground nearly all that night when I ran away from the Towers. A long +time went by--there was frost and snow. I saw the river once out of the +window when I was lifted out of bed for an hour or two, and it was +frozen; and once at midnight I heard the Kemberling church-bells +ringing in the New Year. I was very ill, but I had no doctor; and all +that time I saw no one but my cousin Paul, and Lavinia Weston, and a +servant called Betsy, a rough country girl, who took care of me when my +cousins were away. They were kind to me, and took great care of me." + +"You did not see Olivia, then, all this time?" Edward asked eagerly. + +"No; I did not see my stepmother till some time after the New Year +began. She came in suddenly one evening, when Mrs. Weston was with me, +and at first she seemed frightened at seeing me. She spoke to me kindly +afterwards, but in a strange, terror-stricken voice; and she laid her +head down upon the counterpane of the bed, and sobbed aloud; and then +Paul took her away, and spoke to her cruelly, very cruelly--taunting +her with her love for you. I never understood till then why she hated +me: but I pitied her after that; yes, Edward, miserable as I was, I +pitied her, because you had never loved her. In all my wretchedness I +was happier than her; for you had loved me, Edward--you had loved me!" + +Mary lifted her face to her husband's lips, and those dear lips were +pressed tenderly upon her pale forehead. + +"O my love, my love!" the young man murmured; "my poor suffering angel! +Can God ever forgive these people for their cruelty to you? But, my +darling, why did you make no effort to escape?" + +"I was too ill to move; I believed that I was dying." + +"But afterwards, darling, when you were better, stronger,--did you make +no effort then to escape from your persecutors?" + +Mary shook her head mournfully. + +"Why should I try to escape from them?" she said. "What was there for +me beyond that place? It was as well for me to be there as anywhere +else. I thought you were dead, Edward; I thought you were dead, and +life held nothing more for me. I could do nothing but wait till He who +raised the widow's son should have pity upon me, and take me to the +heaven where I thought you and papa had gone before me. I didn't want +to go away from those dreary rooms over the boat-house. What did it +matter to me whether I was there or at Marchmont Towers? I thought you +were dead, and all the glories and grandeurs of the world were nothing +to me. Nobody ill-treated me; I was let alone. Mrs. Weston told me that +it was for my own sake they kept me hidden from everybody about the +Towers. I was a poor disgraced girl, she told me; and it was best for +me to stop quietly in the pavilion till people had got tired of talking +of me, and then my cousin Paul would take me away to the Continent, +where no one would know who I was. She told me that the honour of my +father's name, and of my family altogether, would be saved by this +means. I replied that I had brought no dishonour on my dear father's +name; but she only shook her head mournfully, and I was too weak to +dispute with her. What did it matter? I thought you were dead, and that +the world was finished for me. I sat day after day by the window; not +looking out, for there was a Venetian blind that my cousin Paul had +nailed down to the window-sill, and I could only see glimpses of the +water through the long, narrow openings between the laths. I used to +sit there listening to the moaning of the wind amongst the trees, or +the sounds of horses' feet upon the towing-path, or the rain dripping +into the river upon wet days. I think that even in my deepest misery +God was good to me, for my mind sank into a dull apathy, and I seemed +to lose even the capacity of suffering. + +"One day,--one day in March, when the wind was howling, and the smoke +blew down the narrow chimney and filled the room,--Mrs. Weston brought +her husband, and he talked to me a little, and then talked to his wife +in whispers. He seemed terribly frightened, and he trembled all the +time, and kept saying, 'Poor thing; poor young woman!' but his wife was +cross to him, and wouldn't let him stop long in the room. After that, +Mr. Weston came very often, always with Lavinia, who seemed cleverer +than he was, even as a doctor; for she dictated to him, and ordered him +about in everything. Then, by-and-by, when the birds were singing, and +the warm sunshine came into the room, my baby was born, Edward; my baby +was born. I thought that God, who raised the widow's son, had heard my +prayer, and had raised you up from the dead; for the baby's eyes were +like yours, and I used to think sometimes that your soul was looking +out of them and comforting me. + +"Do you remember that poor foolish German woman who believed that the +spirit of a dead king came to her in the shape of a blackbird? She was +not a good woman, I know, dear; but she must have loved the king very +truly, or she never could have believed anything so foolish. I don't +believe in people's love when they love 'wisely,' Edward: the truest +love is that which loves 'too well.' + +"From the time of my baby's birth everything was changed. I was more +miserable, perhaps, because that dull, dead apathy cleared away, and my +memory came back, and I thought of you, dear, and cried over my little +angel's face as he slept. But I wasn't alone any longer. The world +seemed narrowed into the little circle round my darling's cradle. I +don't think he is like other babies, Edward. I think he has known of my +sorrow from the very first, and has tried in his mute way to comfort +me. The God who worked so many miracles, all separate tokens of His +love and tenderness and pity for the sorrows of mankind, could easily +make my baby different from other children, for a wretched mother's +consolation. + +"In the autumn after my darling's birth, Paul and his sister came for +me one night, and took me away from the pavilion by the water to a +deserted farmhouse, where there was a woman to wait upon me and take +care of me. She was not unkind to me, but she was rather neglectful of +me. I did not mind that, for I wanted nothing except to be alone with +my precious boy--your son, Edward; your son. The woman let me walk in +the garden sometimes. It was a neglected garden, but there were bright +flowers growing wild, and when the spring came again my pet used to lie +on the grass and play with the buttercups and daisies that I threw into +his lap; and I think we were both of us happier and better than we had +been in those two close rooms over the boat-house. + +"I have told you all now, Edward, all except what happened this +morning, when my stepmother and Hester Jobson came into my room in the +early daybreak, and told me that I had been deceived, and that you were +alive. My stepmother threw herself upon her knees at my feet, and asked +me to forgive her, for she was a miserable sinner, she said, who had +been abandoned by God; and I forgave her, Edward, and kissed her; and +you must forgive her too, dear, for I know that she has been very, very +wretched. And she took the baby in her arms, and kissed him,--oh, so +passionately!--and cried over him. And then they brought me here in Mr. +Jobson's cart, for Mr. Jobson was with them, and Hester held me in her +arms all the time. And then, darling, then after a long time you came +to me." + +Edward put his arms round his wife, and kissed her once more. "We will +never speak of this again, darling," he said. "I know all now; I +understand it all. I will never again distress you by speaking of your +cruel wrongs." + +"And you will forgive Olivia, dear?" + +"Yes, my pet, I will forgive--Olivia." + +He said no more, for there was a footstep on the stair, and a glimmer +of light shone through the crevices of the door. Hester Jobson came +into the room with a pair of lighted wax-candles, in white +crockery-ware candlesticks. But Hester was not alone; close behind her +came a lady in a rustling silk gown, a tall matronly lady, who cried +out,-- + +"Where is she, Edward? Where is she? Let me see this poor ill-used +child." + +It was Mrs. Arundel, who had come to Kemberling to see her newly-found +daughter-in-law. + +"Oh, my dear mother," cried the young man, "how good of you to come! +Now, Mary, you need never again know what it is to want a protector, a +tender womanly protector, who will shelter you from every harm." + +Mary got up and went to Mrs. Arundel, who opened her arms to receive +her son's young wife. But before she folded Mary to her friendly +breast, she took the girl's two hands in hers, and looked earnestly at +her pale, wasted face. + +She gave a long sigh as she contemplated those wan features, the +shining light in the eyes, that looked unnaturally large by reason of +the girl's hollow cheeks. + +"Oh, my dear," cried Mrs. Arundel, "my poor long-suffering child, how +cruelly they have treated you!" + +Edward looked at his mother, frightened by the earnestness of her +manner; but she smiled at him with a bright, reassuring look. + +"I shall take you home to Dangerfield with me, my poor love," she said +to Mary; "and I shall nurse you, and make you as plump as a partridge, +my poor wasted pet. And I'll be a mother to you, my motherless child. +Oh, to think that there should be any wretch vile enough to--But I +won't agitate you, my dear. I'll take you away from this bleak horrid +county by the first train to-morrow morning, and you shall sleep +to-morrow night in the blue bedroom at Dangerfield, with the roses and +myrtles waving against your window; and Edward shall go with us, and +you shan't come back here till you are well and strong; and you'll try +and love me, won't you, dear? And, oh, Edward, I've seen the boy! and +he's a _superb_ creature, the very _image_ of what you were at a +twelvemonth old; and he came to me, and smiled at me, almost as if he +knew I was his grandmother; and he has got FIVE teeth, but I'm _sorry_ +to tell you he's cutting them crossways, the top first instead of the +bottom, Hester says." + +"And Belinda, mother dear?" Edward said presently, in a grave +undertone. + +"Belinda is an angel," Mrs. Arundel answered, quite as gravely. "She +has been in her own room all day, and no one has seen her but her +mother; but she came down to the hall as I was leaving the house this +evening, and said to me, 'Dear Mrs. Arundel, tell him that he must not +think I am so selfish as to be sorry for what has happened. Tell him +that I am very glad to think his young wife has been saved.' She put +her hand up to my lips to stop my speaking, and then went back again to +her room; and if that isn't acting like an angel, I don't know what +is." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +"ALL WITHIN IS DARK AS NIGHT." + + +Paul Marchmont did not leave Stony-Stringford Farmhouse till dusk upon +that bright summer's day; and the friendly twilight is slow to come in +the early days of July, however a man may loathe the sunshine. Paul +Marchmont stopped at the deserted farmhouse, wandering in and out of +the empty rooms, strolling listlessly about the neglected garden, or +coming to a dead stop sometimes, and standing stock-still for ten +minutes at a time, staring at the wall before him, and counting the +slimy traces of the snails upon the branches of a plum-tree, or the +flies in a spider's web. Paul Marchmont was afraid to leave that lonely +farmhouse. He was afraid as yet. He scarcely knew what he feared, for a +kind of stupor had succeeded the violent emotions of the past few +hours; and the time slipped by him, and his brain grew bewildered when +he tried to realise his position. + +It was very difficult for him to do this. The calamity that had come +upon him was a calamity that he had never anticipated. He was a clever +man, and he had put his trust in his own cleverness. He had never +expected to be _found out_. + +Until this hour everything had been in his favour. His dupes and +victims had played into his hands. Mary's grief, which had rendered her +a passive creature, utterly indifferent to her own fate,--her peculiar +education, which had taught her everything except knowledge of the +world in which she was to live,--had enabled Paul Marchmont to carry +out a scheme so infamous and daring that it was beyond the suspicion of +honest men, almost too base for the comprehension of ordinary villains. + +He had never expected to be found out. All his plans had been +deliberately and carefully prepared. Immediately after Edward's +marriage and safe departure for the Continent, Paul had intended to +convey Mary and the child, with the grim attendant whom he had engaged +for them, far away, to one of the remotest villages in Wales. + +Alone he would have done this; travelling by night, and trusting no +one; for the hired attendant knew nothing of Mary's real position. She +had been told that the girl was a poor relation of Paul's, and that her +story was a very sorrowful one. If the poor creature had strange +fancies and delusions, it was no more than might be expected; for she +had suffered enough to turn a stronger brain than her own. Everything +had been arranged, and so cleverly arranged, that Mary and the child +would disappear after dusk one summer's evening, and not even Lavinia +Weston would be told whither they had gone. + +Paul had never expected to be found out. But he had least of all +expected betrayal from the quarter whence it had come. He had made +Olivia his tool; but he had acted cautiously even with her. He had +confided nothing to her; and although she had suspected some foul play +in the matter of Mary's disappearance, she had been certain of nothing. +She had uttered no falsehood when she swore to Edward Arundel that she +did not know where his wife was. But for her accidental discovery of +the secret of the pavilion, she would never have known of Mary's +existence after that October afternoon on which the girl left Marchmont +Towers. + +But here Paul had been betrayed by the carelessness of the hired girl +who acted as Mary Arundel's gaoler and attendant. It was Olivia's habit +to wander often in that dreary wood by the water during the winter in +which Mary was kept prisoner in the pavilion over the boat-house. +Lavinia Weston and Paul Marchmont spent each of them a great deal of +their time in the pavilion; but they could not be always on guard +there. There was the world to be hoodwinked; and the surgeon's wife had +to perform all her duties as a matron before the face of Kemberling, +and had to give some plausible account of her frequent visits to the +boat-house. Paul liked the place for his painting, Mrs. Weston informed +her friends; and he was _so_ enthusiastic in his love of art, that it +was really a pleasure to participate in his enthusiasm; so she liked to +sit with him, and talk to him or read to him while he painted. This +explanation was quite enough for Kemberling; and Mrs. Weston went to +the pavilion at Marchmont Towers three or four times a week without +causing any scandal thereby. + +But however well you may manage things yourself, it is not always easy +to secure the careful co-operation of the people you employ. Betsy +Murrel was a stupid, narrow-minded young person, who was very safe so +far as regarded the possibility of any sympathy with, or compassion +for, Mary Arundel arising in her stolid nature; but the stupid +stolidity which made her safe in one way rendered her dangerous in +another. One day, while Mrs. Weston was with the hapless young +prisoner, Miss Murrel went out upon the water-side to converse with a +good-looking young bargeman, who was a connexion of her family, and +perhaps an admirer of the young lady herself; and the door of the +painting-room being left wide open, Olivia Marchmont wandered +listlessly into the pavilion--there was a dismal fascination for her in +that spot, on which she had heard Edward Arundel declare his love for +John Marchmont's daughter--and heard Mary's voice in the chamber at the +top of the stone steps. + +This was how Olivia had surprised Paul's secret; and from that hour it +had been the artist's business to rule this woman by the only weapon +which he possessed against her,--her own secret, her own weak folly, +her mad love of Edward Arundel and jealous hatred of the woman whom he +had loved. This weapon was a very powerful one, and Paul used it +unsparingly. + +When the woman who, for seven-and-twenty years of her life, had lived +without sin; who from the hour in which she had been old enough to know +right from wrong, until Edward Arundel's second return from India, had +sternly done her duty,--when this woman, who little by little had +slipped away from her high standing-point and sunk down into a morass +of sin; when this woman remonstrated with Mr. Marchmont, he turned upon +her and lashed her with the scourge of her own folly. + +"You come and upbraid me," he said, "and you call me villain and +arch-traitor, and say that you cannot abide this, your sin; and that +your guilt, in keeping our secret, cries to you in the dead hours of +the night; and you call upon me to undo what I have done, and to +restore Mary Marchmont to her rights. Do you remember what her highest +right is? Do you remember that which I must restore to her when I give +her back this house and the income that goes along with it? If I +restore Marchmont Towers, I must restore to her _Edward Arundel's +love!_ You have forgotten that, perhaps. If she ever re-enters this +house, she will come back to it leaning on his arm. You will see them +together--you will hear of their happiness; and do you think that _he_ +will ever forgive you for your part of the conspiracy? Yes, it is a +conspiracy, if you like; if you are not afraid to call it by a hard +name, why should I fear to do so? Will he ever forgive you, do you +think, when he knows that his young wife has been the victim of a +senseless, vicious love? Yes, Olivia Marchmont; any love is vicious +which is given unsought, and is so strong a passion, so blind and +unreasoning a folly, that honour, mercy, truth, and Christianity are +trampled down before it. How will you endure Edward Arundel's contempt +for you? How will you tolerate his love for Mary, multiplied twentyfold +by all this romantic business of separation and persecution? + +"You talk to me of my sin. Who was it who first sinned? Who was it who +drove Mary Marchmont from this house,--not once only, but twice, by her +cruelty? Who was it who persecuted her and tortured her day by day and +hour by hour, not openly, not with an uplifted hand or blows that could +be warded off, but by cruel hints and inuendoes, by unwomanly sneers +and hellish taunts? Look into your heart, Olivia Marchmont; and when +you make atonement for your sin, I will make restitution for mine. In +the meantime, if this business is painful to you, the way lies open +before you: go and take Edward Arundel to the pavilion yonder, and give +him back his wife; give the lie to all your past life, and restore +these devoted young lovers to each other's arms." + +This weapon never failed in its effect. Olivia Marchmont might loathe +herself, and her sin, and her life, which was made hideous to her +because of her sin; but she _could_ not bring herself to restore Mary +to her lover-husband; she could not tolerate the idea of their +happiness. Every night she grovelled on her knees, and swore to her +offended God that she would do this thing, she would render this +sacrifice of atonement; but every morning, when her weary eyes opened +on the hateful sunlight, she cried, "Not to-day--not to-day." + +Again and again, during Edward Arundel's residence at Kemberling +Retreat, she had set out from Marchmont Towers with the intention of +revealing to him the place where his young wife was hidden; but, again +and again, she had turned back and left her work undone. She _could_ +not--she could not. In the dead of the night, under pouring rain, with +the bleak winds of winter blowing in her face, she had set out upon +that unfinished journey, only to stop midway, and cry out, "No, no, +no--not to-night; I cannot endure it yet!" + +It was only when another and a fiercer jealousy was awakened in this +woman's breast, that she arose all at once, strong, resolute, and +undaunted, to do the work she had so miserably deferred. As one poison +is said to neutralise the evil power of another, so Olivia Marchmont's +jealousy of Belinda seemed to blot out and extinguish her hatred of +Mary. Better anything than that Edward Arundel should have a new, and +perhaps a fairer, bride. The jealous woman had always looked upon Mary +Marchmont as a despicable rival. Better that Edward should be tied to +this girl, than that he should rejoice in the smiles of a lovelier +woman, worthier of his affection. _This_ was the feeling paramount in +Olivia's breast, although she was herself half unconscious how entirely +this was the motive power which had given her new strength and +resolution. She tried to think that it was the awakening of her +conscience that had made her strong enough to do this one good work; +but in the semi-darkness of her own mind there was still a feeble +glimmer of the light of truth, and it was this that had prompted her to +cry out on her knees before the altar in Hillingsworth church, and +declare the sinfulness of her nature. + + * * * * * + +Paul Marchmont stopped several times before the ragged, untrimmed +fruit-trees in his purposeless wanderings in the neglected garden at +Stony Stringford, before the vaporous confusion cleared away from his +brain, and he was able to understand what had happened to him. + +His first reasonable action was to take out his watch; but even then he +stood for some moments staring at the dial before he remembered why he +had taken the watch from his pocket, or what it was that he wanted to +know. By Mr. Marchmont's chronometer it was ten minutes past seven +o'clock; but the watch had been unwound upon the previous night, and +had run down. Paul put it back in his waistcoat-pocket, and then walked +slowly along the weedy pathway to that low latticed window in which he +had often seen Mary Arundel standing with her child in her arms. He +went to this window and looked in, with his face against the glass. The +room was neat and orderly now; for the woman whom Mr. Marchmont had +hired had gone about her work as usual, and was in the act of filling a +little brown earthenware teapot from a kettle on the hob when Paul +stared in at her. + +She looked up as Mr. Marchmont's figure came between her and the light, +and nearly dropped the little brown teapot in her terror of her +offended employer. + +But Paul pulled open the window, and spoke to her very quietly. "Stop +where you are," he said; "I want to speak to you. I'll come in." + +He went into the house by a door, that had once been the front and +principal entrance, which opened into a low wainscoted hall. From this +room he went into the parlour, which had been Mary Arundel's apartment, +and in which the hired nurse was now preparing her breakfast. "I +thought I might as well get a cup of tea, sir, whiles I waited for your +orders," the woman murmured, apologetically; "for bein' knocked up so +early this morning, you see, sir, has made my head _that_ bad, I could +scarcely bear myself; and----" + +Paul lifted his hand to stop the woman's talk, as he had done before. +He had no consciousness of what she was saying, but the sound of her +voice pained him. His eyebrows contracted with a spasmodic action, as +if something had hurt his head. + +There was a Dutch clock in the corner of the room, with a long pendulum +swinging against the wall. By this clock it was half-past eight. + +"Is your clock right?" Paul asked. + +"Yes, sir. Leastways, it may be five minutes too slow, but not more." + +Mr. Marchmont took out his watch, wound it up, and regulated it by the +Dutch clock. + +"Now," he said, "perhaps you can tell me clearly what happened. I want +no excuses, remember; I only want to know what occurred, and what was +said--word for word, remember." + +He sat down but got up again directly, and walked to the window; then +he paced up and down the room two or three times, and then went back to +the fireplace and sat down again. He was like a man who, in the racking +torture of some physical pain, finds a miserable relief in his own +restlessness. + +"Come," he said; "I am waiting." + +"Yes, sir; which, begging your parding, if you wouldn't mind sitting +still like, while I'm a-telling of you, which it do remind me of the +wild beastes in the Zoological, sir, to that degree, that the boil, to +which I am subjeck, sir, and have been from a child, might prevent me +bein' as truthful as I should wish. Mrs. Marchmont, sir, she come +before it was light, _in_ a cart, sir, which it was a shaycart, and +made comfortable with cushions and straw, and suchlike, or I should not +have let the young lady go away in it; and she bring with her a +respectable, homely-looking young person, which she call Hester Jobling +or Gobson, or somethink of that sound like, which my memory is +treechrous, and I don't wish to tell a story on no account; and Mrs. +Marchmont she go straight up to my young lady, and she shakes her by +the shoulder; and then the young woman called Hester, she wakes up my +young lady quite gentle like, and kisses her and cries over her; and a +man as drove the cart, which looked a small tradesman well-to-do, +brings his trap round to the front-door,--you may see the trax of the +wheels upon the gravel now, sir, if you disbelieve me. And Mrs. +Marchmont and the young woman called Hester, between 'em they gets my +young lady up, and dresses her, and dresses the child; and does it all +so quick, and overrides me to such a degree, that I hadn't no power to +prevent 'em; but I say to Mrs. Marchmont, I say: 'Is it Mr. Marchmont's +orders as his cousin should be took away this morning?' and she stare +at me hard, and say, 'Yes;' and she have allus an abrumpt way, but was +abrumpter than ordinary this morning. And, oh sir, bein' a poor lone +woman, what was I to do?" + +"Have you nothing more to tell me?" + +"Nothing, sir; leastways, except as they lifted my young lady into the +cart, and the man got in after 'em, and drove away as fast as his horse +would go; and they had been gone two minutes when I began to feel all +in a tremble like, for fear as I might have done wrong in lettin' of +'em go." + +"You have done wrong," Paul answered, sternly; "but no matter. If these +officious friends of my poor weak-witted cousin choose to take her +away, so much the better for me, who have been burdened with her long +enough. Since your charge has gone, your services are no longer wanted. +I shan't act illiberally to you, though I am very much annoyed by your +folly and stupidity. Is there anything due to you?" + +Mrs. Brown hesitated for a moment, and then replied, in a very +insinuating tone,-- + +"Not _wages_, sir; there ain't no _wages_ doo to me,--which you paid me +a quarter in advance last Saturday was a week, and took a receipt, sir, +for the amount. But I have done my dooty, sir, and had but little sleep +and rest, which my 'ealth ain't what it was when I answered your +advertisement, requirin' a respectable motherly person, to take charge +of a invalid lady, not objectin' to the country--which I freely tell +you, sir, if I'd known that the country was a rheumatic old place like +this, with rats enough to scare away a regyment of soldiers, I would +not have undertook the situation; so any present as you might think +sootable, considerin' all things, and----" + +"That will do," said Paul Marchmont, taking a handful of loose money +from his waistcoat pocket; "I suppose a ten-pound note would satisfy +you?" + +"Indeed it would, sir, and very liberal of you too----" + +"Very well. I've got a five-pound note here, and five sovereigns. The +best thing you can do is to get back to London at once; there's a train +leaves Milsome Station at eleven o'clock--Milsome's not more than a +mile and a half from here. You can get your things together; there's a +boy about the place who will carry them for you, I suppose?" + +"Yes, sir; there's a boy by the name of William." + +"He can go with you, then; and if you look sharp, you can catch the +eleven-o'clock train." + +"Yes, sir; and thank you kindly, sir." + +"I don't want any thanks. See that you don't miss the train; that's all +you have to take care of." + +Mr. Marchmont went out into the garden again. He had done something, at +any rate; he had arranged for getting this woman out of the way. + +If--if by any remote chance there might be yet a possibility of keeping +the secret of Mary's existence, here was one witness already got rid +of. + +But was there any chance? Mr. Marchmont sat down on a rickety old +garden-seat, and tried to think--tried to take a deliberate survey of +his position. + +No; there was no hope for him. Look which way he could, there was not +one ray of light. With George Weston and Olivia, Betsy Murrel the +servant-girl, and Hester Jobson to bear witness against him, what could +he hope? + +The surgeon would be able to declare that the child was Mary's son, her +legitimate son, sole heir to that estate of which Paul had taken +possession. + +There was no hope. There was no possibility that Olivia should waver in +her purpose; for had she not brought with her two witnesses--Hester +Jobson and her husband? + +From that moment the case was taken out of her hands. The honest +carpenter and his wife would see that Mary had her rights. + +"It will be a glorious speculation for them," thought Paul Marchmont, +who naturally measured other people's characters by a standard derived +from an accurate knowledge of his own. + +Yes, his ruin was complete. Destruction had come upon him, swift and +sudden as the caprice of a madwoman--or--the thunderbolt of an offended +Providence. What should he do? Run away, sneak away by back-lanes and +narrow footpaths to the nearest railway-station, hide himself in a +third-class carriage going Londonwards, and from London get away to +Liverpool, to creep on board some emigrant vessel bound for New York? + +He could not even do this, for he was without the means of getting so +much as the railway-ticket that should carry him on the first stage of +his flight. After having given ten pounds to Mrs. Brown, he had only a +few shillings in his waistcoat-pocket. He had only one article of any +great value about him, and that was his watch, which had cost fifty +pounds. But the Marchmont arms were emblazoned on the outside of the +case; and Paul's name in full, and the address of Marchmont Towers, +were ostentatiously engraved inside, so that any attempt to dispose of +the watch must inevitably lead to the identification of the owner. + +Paul Marchmont had made no provision for this evil day. Supreme in the +consciousness of his own talents, he had never imagined discovery and +destruction. His plans had been so well arranged. On the very day after +Edward's second marriage, Mary and her child would have been conveyed +away to the remotest district in Wales; and the artist would have +laughed at the idea of danger. The shallowest schemer might have been +able to manage this poor broken-hearted girl, whose many sorrows had +brought her to look upon life as a thing which was never meant to be +joyful, and which was only to be endured patiently, like some slow +disease that would be surely cured in the grave. It had been so easy to +deal with this ignorant and gentle victim that Paul had grown bold and +confident, and had ignored the possibility of such ruin as had now come +down upon him. + +What was he to do? What was the nature of his crime, and what penalty +had he incurred? He tried to answer these questions; but as his offence +was of no common kind, he knew of no common law which could apply to +it. Was it a felony, this appropriation of another person's property, +this concealment of another person's existence; or was it only a +conspiracy, amenable to no criminal law; and would he be called upon +merely to make restitution of that which he had spent and wasted? What +did it matter? Either way, there was nothing for him but +ruin--irretrievable ruin. + +There are some men who can survive discovery and defeat, and begin a +new life in a new world, and succeed in a new career. But Paul +Marchmont was not one of these. He could not stick a hunting-knife and +a brace of revolvers in his leathern belt, sling a game-bag across his +shoulders, take up his breech-loading rifle, and go out into the +backwoods of an uncivilised country, to turn sheep-breeder, and hold +his own against a race of agricultural savages. He was a Cockney, and +for him there was only one world--a world in which men wore varnished +boots and enamelled shirt-studs with portraits of La Montespan or La +Dubarry, and lived in chambers in the Albany, and treated each other to +little dinners at Greenwich and Richmond, or cut a grand figure at a +country-house, and collected a gallery of art and a museum of _bric à +brac_. This was the world upon the outer edge of which Paul Marchmont +had lived so long, looking in at the brilliant inhabitants with hungry, +yearning eyes through all the days of his poverty and obscurity. This +was the world into which he had pushed himself at last by means of a +crime. + +He was forty years of age; and in all his life he had never had but one +ambition,--and that was to be master of Marchmont Towers. The remote +chance of that inheritance had hung before him ever since his boyhood, +a glittering prize, far away in the distance, but so brilliant as to +blind him to the brightness of all nearer chances. Why should he slave +at his easel, and toil to become a great painter? When would art earn +him eleven thousand a year? The greatest painter of Mr. Marchmont's +time lived in a miserable lodging at Chelsea. It was before the days of +the "Railway Station" and the "Derby Day;" or perhaps Paul might have +made an effort to become that which Heaven never meant him to be--a +great painter. No; art was only a means of living with this man. He +painted, and sold his pictures to his few patrons, who beat him down +unmercifully, giving him a small profit upon his canvas and colours, +for the encouragement of native art; but he only painted to live. + +He was waiting. From the time when he could scarcely speak plain, +Marchmont Towers had been a familiar word in his ears and on his lips. +He knew the number of lives that stood between his father and the +estate, and had learned to say, naïvely enough then,-- + +"O pa, don't you wish that Uncle Philip and Uncle Marmaduke and Cousin +John would die soon?" + +He was two-and-twenty years of age when his father died; and he felt a +faint thrill of satisfaction, even in the midst of his sorrow, at the +thought that there was one life the less between him and the end of his +hopes. But other lives had sprung up in the interim. There was young +Arthur, and little Mary; and Marchmont Towers was like a caravanserai +in the desert, which seems to be farther and farther away as the weary +traveller strives to reach it. + +Still Paul hoped, and watched, and waited. He had all the instincts of +a sybarite, and he fancied, therefore, that he was destined to be a +rich man. He watched, and waited, and hoped, and cheered his mother and +sister when they were downcast with the hope of better days. When the +chance came, he seized upon it, and plotted, and succeeded, and +revelled in his brief success. + +But now ruin had come to him, what was he to do? He tried to make some +plan for his own conduct; but he could not. His brain reeled with the +effort which he made to realise his own position. + +He walked up and down one of the pathways in the garden until a quarter +to ten o'clock; then he went into the house, and waited till Mrs. Brown +had departed from Stony-Stringford Farm, attended by the boy, who +carried two bundles, a bandbox, and a carpet-bag. + +"Come back here when you have taken those things to the station," Paul +said; "I shall want you." + +He watched the dilapidated five-barred gate swing to after the +departure of Mrs. Brown and her attendant, and then went to look at his +horse. The patient animal had been standing in a shed all this time, +and had had neither food nor water. Paul searched amongst the empty +barns and outhouses, and found a few handfuls of fodder. He took this +to the animal, and then went back again to the garden,--to that quiet +garden, where the bees were buzzing about in the sunshine with a +drowsy, booming sound, and where a great tabby-cat was sleeping +stretched flat upon its side, on one of the flower-beds. + +Paul Marchmont waited here very impatiently till the boy came back. + +"I must see Lavinia," he thought. "I dare not leave this place till I +have seen Lavinia. I don't know what may be happening at Hillingsworth +or Kemberling. These things are taken up sometimes by the populace. +They may make a party against me; they may--" + +He stood still, gnawing the edges of his nails, and staring down at the +gravel-walk. + +He was thinking of things that he had read in the newspapers,--cases in +which some cruel mother who had illused her child, or some suspected +assassin who, in all human probability, had poisoned his wife, had been +well-nigh torn piecemeal by an infuriated mob, and had been glad to +cling for protection to the officers of justice, or to beg leave to +stay in prison after acquittal, for safe shelter from honest men and +women's indignation. + +He remembered one special case in which the populace, unable to get at +a man's person, tore down his house, and vented their fury upon +unsentient bricks and mortar. + +Mr. Marchmont took out a little memorandum book, and scrawled a few +lines in pencil: + +"I am here, at Stony-Stringford Farmhouse," he wrote. "For God's sake, +come to me, Lavinia, and at once; you can drive here yourself. I want +to know what has happened at Kemberling and at Hillingsworth. Find out +everything for me, and come. P. M." + +It was nearly twelve o'clock when the boy returned. Paul gave him this +letter, and told the lad to get on his own horse, and ride to +Kemberling as fast as he could go. He was to leave the horse at +Kemberling, in Mr. Weston's stable, and was to come back to +Stony-Stringford with Mrs. Weston. This order Paul particularly +impressed upon the boy, lest he should stop in Kemberling, and reveal +the secret of Paul's hiding-place. + +Mr. Paul Marchmont was afraid. A terrible sickening dread had taken +possession of him, and what little manliness there had ever been in his +nature seemed to have deserted him to-day. + +Oh, the long dreary hours of that miserable day! the hideous sunshine, +that scorched Mr. Marchmont's bare head, as he loitered about the +garden!--he had left his hat in the house; but he did not even know +that he was bareheaded. Oh, the misery of that long day of suspense and +anguish! The sick consciousness of utter defeat, the thought of the +things that he might have done, the purse that he might have made with +the money that he had lavished on pictures, and decorations, and +improvements, and the profligate extravagance of splendid +entertainments. This is what he thought of, and these were the thoughts +that tortured him. But in all that miserable day he never felt one pang +of remorse for the agonies that he had inflicted upon his innocent +victim; on the contrary, he hated her because of this discovery, and +gnashed his teeth as he thought how she and her young husband would +enjoy all the grandeur of Marchmont Towers,--all that noble revenue +which he had hoped to hold till his dying day. + +It was growing dusk when Mr. Marchmont heard the sound of wheels in the +dusty lane outside the garden-wall. He went through the house, and into +the farmyard, in time to receive his sister Lavinia at the gate. It was +the wheels of her pony-carriage he had heard. She drove a pair of +ponies, which Paul had given her. He was angry with himself as he +remembered that this was another piece of extravagance,--another sum of +money recklessly squandered, when it might have gone towards the making +of a rich provision for this evil day. + +Mrs. Weston was very pale; and her brother could see by her face that +she brought him no good news. She left her ponies to the care of the +boy, and went into the garden with her brother. + +"Well, Lavinia?" + +"Well, Paul, it is a dreadful business," Mrs. Weston said, in a low +voice. + +"It's all George's doing! It's all the work of that infernal +scoundrel!" cried Paul, passionately. "But he shall pay bitterly +for----" + +"Don't let us talk of him, Paul; no good can come of that. What are you +going to do?" + +"I don't know. I sent for you because I wanted your help and advice. +What's the good of your coming if you bring me no help?" + +"Don't be cruel, Paul. Heaven knows, I'll do my best. But I can't see +what's to be done--except for you to get away, Paul. Everything's +known. Olivia stopped the marriage publicly in Hillingsworth Church; +and all the Hillingsworth people followed Edward Arundel's carriage to +Kemberling. The report spread like wildfire; and, oh Paul, the +Kemberling people have taken it up, and our windows have been broken, +and there's been a crowd all day upon the terrace before the Towers, +and they've tried to get into the house, declaring that they know +you're hiding somewhere. Paul, Paul, what are we to do? The people +hooted after me as I drove away from the High Street, and the boys +threw stones at the ponies. Almost all the servants have left the +Towers. The constables have been up there trying to get the crowd off +the terrace. But what are we to do, Paul? what are we to do?" + +"Kill ourselves," answered the artist savagely. "What else should we +do? What have we to live for? You have a little money, I suppose; I +have none. Do you think I can go back to the old life? Do you think I +can go back, and live in that shabby house in Charlotte Street, and +paint the same rocks and boulders, the same long stretch of sea, the +same low lurid streaks of light,--all the old subjects over again,--for +the same starvation prices? Do you think I can ever tolerate shabby +clothes again, or miserable make-shift dinners,--hashed mutton, with +ill-cut hunks of lukewarm meat floating about in greasy slop called +gravy, and washed down with flat porter fetched half an hour too soon +from a public-house,--do you think I can go back to _that_? No; I have +tasted the wine of life: I have lived; and I'll never go back to the +living death called poverty. Do you think I can stand in that passage +in Charlotte Street again, Lavinia, to be bullied by an illiterate +tax-gatherer, or insulted by an infuriated baker? No, Lavinia; I have +made my venture, and I have failed." + +"But what will you do, Paul?" + +"I don't know," he answered, moodily. + +This was a lie. He knew well enough what he meant to do: he would kill +himself. + +That resolution inspired him with a desperate kind of courage. He would +escape from the mob; he would get away somewhere or other quietly and +there kill himself. He didn't know how, as yet; but he would deliberate +upon that point at his leisure, and choose the death that was supposed +to be least painful. + +"Where are my mother and Clarissa?" he asked presently. + +"They are at our house; they came to me directly they heard the rumour +of what had happened. I don't know how they heard it; but every one +heard of it, simultaneously, as it seemed. My mother is in a dreadful +state. I dared not tell her that I had known it all along." + +"Oh, of course not," answered Paul, with a sneer; "let me bear the +burden of my guilt alone. What did my mother say?" + +"She kept saying again and again, 'I can't believe it. I can't believe +that he could do anything cruel; he has been such a good son.'" + +"I was not cruel," Paul cried vehemently; "the girl had every comfort. +I never grudged money for her comfort. She was a miserable, apathetic +creature, to whom fortune was almost a burden rather than an advantage. +If I separated her from her husband--bah!--was that such a cruelty? She +was no worse off than if Edward Arundel had been killed in that railway +accident; and it might have been so." + +He didn't waste much time by reasoning on this point. He thought of his +mother and sisters. From first to last he had been a good son and a +good brother. + +"What money have you, Lavinia?" + +"A good deal; you have been very generous to me, Paul; and you shall +have it all back again, if you want it. I have got upwards of two +thousand pounds altogether; for I have been very careful of the money +you have given me." + +"You have been wise. Now listen to me, Lavinia. I _have_ been a good +son, and I have borne my burdens uncomplainingly. It is your turn now +to bear yours. I must get back to Marchmont Towers, if I can, and +gather together whatever personal property I have there. It isn't +much--only a few trinkets, and suchlike. You must send me some one you +can trust to fetch those to-night; for I shall not stay an hour in the +place. I may not even be admitted into it; for Edward Arundel may have +already taken possession in his wife's name. Then you will have to +decide where you are to go. You can't stay in this part of the country. +Weston must be liable to some penalty or other for his share in the +business, unless he's bought over as a witness to testify to the +identity of Mary's child. I haven't time to think of all this. I want +you to promise me that you will take care of your mother and your +invalid sister." + +"I will, Paul; I will indeed. But tell me what you are going to do +yourself, and where you are going?" + +"I don't know," Paul Marchmont answered, in the same tone as before; +"but whatever I do, I want you to give me your solemn promise that you +will be good to my mother and sister." + +"I will, Paul; I promise you to do as you have done." + +"You had better leave Kemberling by the first train to-morrow morning; +take my mother and Clarissa with you; take everything that is worth +taking, and leave Weston behind you to bear the brunt of this business. +You can get a lodging in the old neighbourhood, and no one will molest +you when you once get away from this place. But remember one thing, +Lavinia: if Mary Arundel's child should die, and Mary herself should +die childless, Clarissa will inherit Marchmont Towers. Don't forget +that. There's a chance yet for you: it's far away, and unlikely enough; +but it _is_ a chance." + +"But you are more likely to outlive Mary and her child than Clarissa +is," Mrs. Weston answered, with a feeble attempt at hopefulness; "try +and think of that, Paul, and let the hope cheer you." + +"Hope!" cried Mr. Marchmont, with a discordant laugh. "Yes; I'm forty +years old, and for five-and-thirty of those years I've hoped and waited +for Marchmont Towers. I can't hope any longer, or wait any longer. I +give it up; I've fought hard, but I'm beaten." + +It was nearly dark by this time, the shadowy darkness of a midsummer's +evening; and there were stars shining faintly out of the sky. + +"You can drive me back to the Towers," Paul Marchmont said. "I don't +want to lose any time in getting there; I may be locked out by Mr. +Edward Arundel if I don't take care." + +Mrs. Weston and her brother went back to the farmyard. It was sixteen +miles from Kemberling to Stony Stringford; and the ponies were +steaming, for Lavinia had come at a good rate. But it was no time for +the consideration of horseflesh. Paul took a rug from the empty seat, +and wrapped himself in it. He would not be likely to be recognised in +the darkness, sitting back in the low seat, and made bulky by the +ponderous covering in which he had enveloped himself. Mrs. Weston took +the whip from the boy, gathered up the reins, and drove off. Paul had +left no orders about the custody of the old farmhouse. The boy went +home to his master, at the other end of the farm; and the night-winds +wandered wherever they listed through the deserted habitation. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +THERE IS CONFUSION WORSE THAN DEATH. + + +The brother and sister exchanged very few words during the drive +between Stony Stringford and Marchmont Towers. It was arranged between +them that Mrs. Weston should drive by a back-way leading to a lane that +skirted the edge of the river, and that Paul should get out at a gate +opening into the wood, and by that means make his way, unobserved, to +the house which had so lately been to all intents and purposes his own. + +He dared not attempt to enter the Towers by any other way; for the +indignant populace might still be lurking about the front of the house, +eager to inflict summary vengeance upon the persecutor of a helpless +girl. + +It was between nine and ten o'clock when Mr. Marchmont got out at the +little gate. All here was very still; and Paul heard the croaking of +the frogs upon the margin of a little pool in the wood, and the sound +of horses' hoofs a mile away upon the loose gravel by the water-side. + +"Good night, Lavinia," he said. "Send for the things as soon as you go +back; and be sure you send a safe person for them." + +"O yes, dear; but hadn't you better take any thing of value yourself?" +Mrs. Weston asked anxiously. "You say you have no money. Perhaps it +would be best for you to send me the jewellery, though, and I can send +you what money you want by my messenger." + +"I shan't want any money--at least I have enough for what I want. What +have you done with your savings?" + +"They are in a London bank. But I have plenty of ready money in the +house. You must want money, Paul?" + +"I tell you, no; I have as much as I want." + +"But tell me your plans, Paul; I must know your plans before I leave +Lincolnshire myself. Are _you_ going away?" + +"Yes." + +"Immediately?" + +"Immediately." + +"Shall you go to London?" + +"Perhaps. I don't know yet." + +"But when shall we see you again, Paul? or how shall we hear of you?" + +"I'll write to you." + +"Where?" + +"At the Post-office in Rathbone Place. Don't bother me with a lot of +questions to-night Lavinia; I'm not in the humour to answer them." + +Paul Marchmont turned away from his sister impatiently, and opened the +gate; but before she had driven off, he went back to her. + +"Shake hands, Lavinia," he said; "shake hands, my dear; it may be a +long time before you and I meet again." + +He bent down and kissed his sister. + +"Drive home as fast as you can, and send the messenger directly. He had +better come to the door of the lobby, near Olivia's room. Where is +Olivia, by-the-bye? Is she still with the stepdaughter she loves so +dearly?" + +"No; she went to Swampington early in the afternoon. A fly was ordered +from the Black Bull, and she went away in it." + +"So much the better," answered Mr. Marchmont. "Good night, Lavinia. +Don't let my mother think ill of me. I tried to do the best I could to +make her happy. Good-bye." + +"Good-bye, dear Paul; God bless you!" + +The blessing was invoked with as much sincerity as if Lavinia Weston +had been a good woman, and her brother a good man. Perhaps neither of +those two was able to realise the extent of the crime which they had +assisted each other to commit. + +Mrs. Weston drove away; and Paul went up to the back of the Towers, and +under an archway leading into the quadrangle. All about the house was +as quiet as if the Sleeping Beauty and her court had been its only +occupants. + +The inhabitants of Kemberling and the neighbourhood were an orderly +people, who burnt few candles between May and September; and however +much they might have desired to avenge Mary Arundel's wrongs by tearing +Paul Marchmont to pieces, their patience had been exhausted by +nightfall, and they had been glad to return to their respective abodes, +to discuss Paul's iniquities comfortably over the nine-o'clock beer. + +Paul stood still in the quadrangle for a few moments, and listened. He +could hear no human breath or whisper; he only heard the sound of the +corn-crake in the fields to the right of the Towers, and the distant +rumbling of wagon-wheels on the high-road. There was a glimmer of light +in one of the windows belonging to the servants' offices,--only one dim +glimmer, where there had usually been a row of brilliantly-lighted +casements. Lavinia was right, then; almost all the servants had left +the Towers. Paul tried to open the half-glass door leading into the +lobby; but it was locked. He rang a bell; and after about three +minutes' delay, a buxom country-girl appeared in the lobby carrying a +candle. She was some kitchenmaid or dairymaid or scullerymaid, whom +Paul could not remember to have ever seen until now. She opened the +door, and admitted him, dropping a curtsey as he passed her. There was +some relief even in this. Mr. Marchmont had scarcely expected to get +into the house at all; still less to be received with common civility +by any of the servants, who had so lately obeyed him and fawned upon +him. + +"Where are all the rest of the servants?" he asked. + +"They're all gone, sir; except him as you brought down from +London,--Mr. Peterson,--and me and mother. Mother's in the laundry, +sir; and I'm scullerymaid." + +"Why did the other servants leave the place?" + +"Mostly because they was afraid of the mob upon the terrace, I think, +sir; for there's been people all the afternoon throwin' stones, and +breakin' the windows; and I don't think as there's a whole pane of +glass in the front of the house, sir; and Mr. Gormby, sir, he come +about four o'clock, and he got the people to go away, sir, by tellin' +'em as it wern't your property, sir, but the young lady's, Miss Mary +Marchmont,--leastways, Mrs. Airendale,--as they was destroyin' of; but +most of the servants had gone before that, sir, except Mr. Peterson; +and Mr. Gormby gave orders as me and mother was to lock all the doors, +and let no one in upon no account whatever; and he's coming to-morrow +mornin' to take possession, he says; and please, sir, you can't come +in; for his special orders to me and mother was, no one, and you in +particklar." + +"Nonsense, girl!" exclaimed Mr. Marchmont, decisively; "who is Mr. +Gormby, that he should give orders as to who comes in or stops out? I'm +only coming in for half an hour, to pack my portmanteau. Where's +Peterson?" + +"In the dinin'-room, sir; but please, sir, you mustn't----" + +The girl made a feeble effort to intercept Mr. Marchmont, in accordance +with the steward's special orders; which were, that Paul should, upon +no pretence whatever, be suffered to enter the house. But the artist +snatched the candlestick from her hand, and went towards the +dining-room, leaving her to stare after him in amazement. + +Paul found his valet Peterson, taking what he called a snack, in the +dining-room. A cloth was spread upon the corner of the table; and there +was a fore-quarter of cold roast-lamb, a bottle of French brandy, and a +decanter half-full of Madeira before the valet. + +He started as his master entered the room, and looked up, not very +respectfully, but with no unfriendly glance. + +"Give me half a tumbler of that brandy, Peterson," said Mr. Marchmont. + +The man obeyed; and Paul drained the fiery spirit as if it had been so +much water. It was four-and-twenty hours since meat or drink had +crossed his dry white lips. + +"Why didn't you go away with the rest?" he asked, as he set down the +empty glass. + +"It's only rats, sir, that run away from a falling house. I stopped, +thinkin' you'd be goin' away somewhere, and that you'd want me." + +The solid and unvarnished truth of the matter was, that Peterson had +taken it for granted that his master had made an excellent purse +against this evil day, and would be ready to start for the Continent or +America, there to lead a pleasant life upon the proceeds of his +iniquity. The valet never imagined his master guilty of such besotted +folly as to be _un_prepared for this catastrophe. + +"I thought you might still want me, sir," he said; "and wherever you're +going, I'm quite ready to go too. You've been a good master to me, sir; +and I don't want to leave a good master because things go against him." + +Paul Marchmont shook his head, and held out the empty tumbler for his +servant to pour more brandy into it. + +"I am going away," he said; "but I want no servant where I'm going; but +I'm grateful to you for your offer, Peterson. Will you come upstairs +with me? I want to pack a few things." + +"They're all packed, sir. I knew you'd be leaving, and I've packed +everything." + +"My dressing-case?" + +"Yes, sir. You've got the key of that." + +"Yes; I know, I know." + +Paul Marchmont was silent for a few minutes, thinking. Everything that +he had in the way of personal property of any value was in the +dressing-case of which he had spoken. There was five or six hundred +pounds' worth of jewellery in Mr. Marchmont's dressing-case; for the +first instinct of the _nouveau riche_ exhibits itself in diamond +shirt-studs, cameo rings, malachite death's-heads with emerald eyes; +grotesque and pleasing charms in the form of coffins, coal-scuttles, +and hobnailed boots; fantastical lockets of ruby and enamel; wonderful +bands of massive yellow gold, studded with diamonds, wherein to insert +the two ends of flimsy lace cravats. Mr. Marchmont reflected upon the +amount of his possessions, and their security in the jewel-drawer of +his dressing-case. The dressing-case was furnished with a Chubb's lock, +the key of which he carried in his waistcoat-pocket. Yes, it was all +safe. + +"Look here, Peterson," said Paul Marchmont; "I think I shall sleep at +Mrs. Weston's to-night. I should like you to take my dressing-case down +there at once." + +"And how about the other luggage, sir,--the portmanteaus and +hat-boxes?" + +"Never mind those. I want you to put the dressing-case safe in my +sister's hands. I can send here for the rest to-morrow morning. You +needn't wait for me now. I'll follow you in half an hour." + +"Yes, sir. You want the dressing-case carried to Mrs. Weston's house, +and I'm to wait for you there?" + +"Yes; you can wait for me." + +"But is there nothing else I can do, sir?" + +"Nothing whatever. I've only got to collect a few papers, and then I +shall follow you." + +"Yes, sir." + +The discreet Peterson bowed, and retired to fetch the dressing-case. He +put his own construction upon Mr. Marchmont's evident desire to get rid +of him, and to be left alone at the Towers. Paul had, of course, made a +purse, and had doubtless put his money away in some very artful +hiding-place, whence he now wanted to take it at his leisure. He had +stuffed one of his pillows with bank-notes, perhaps; or had hidden a +cash-box behind the tapestry in his bedchamber; or had buried a bag of +gold in the flower-garden below the terrace. Mr. Peterson went upstairs +to Paul's dressing-room, put his hand through the strap of the +dressing-case, which was very heavy, went downstairs again, met his +master in the hall, and went out at the lobby-door. + +Paul locked the door upon his valet, and then went back into the lonely +house, where the ticking of the clocks in the tenantless rooms sounded +unnaturally loud in the stillness. All the windows had been broken; and +though the shutters were shut, the cold night-air blew in at many a +crack and cranny, and well-nigh extinguished Mr. Marchmont's candle as +he went from room to room looking about him. + +He went into the western drawing-room, and lighted some of the lamps in +the principal chandelier. The shutters were shut, for the windows here, +as well as elsewhere, had been broken; fragments of shivered glass, +great jagged stones, and handfuls of gravel, lay about upon the rich +carpet,--the velvet-pile which he had chosen with such artistic taste, +such careful deliberation. He lit the lamps and walked about the room, +looking for the last time at his treasures. Yes, _his_ treasures. It +was he who had transformed this chamber from a prim, old-fashioned +sitting-room--with quaint japanned cabinets, shabby chintz-cushioned +cane-chairs, cracked Indian vases, and a faded carpet--into a saloon +that would have been no discredit to Buckingham Palace or Alton Towers. + +It was he who had made the place what it was. He had squandered the +savings of Mary's minority upon pictures that the richest collector in +England might have been proud to own; upon porcelain that would have +been worthy of a place in the Vienna Museum or the Bernal Collection. +He had done this, and these things were to pass into the possession of +the man he hated,--the fiery young soldier who had horsewhipped him +before the face of wondering Lincolnshire. He walked about the room, +thinking of his life since he had come into possession of this place, +and of what it had been before that time, and what it must be again, +unless he summoned up a desperate courage--and killed himself. + +His heart beat fast and loud, and he felt an icy chill creeping slowly +through his every vein as he thought of this. How was he to kill +himself? He had no poison in his possession,--no deadly drug that would +reduce the agony of death to the space of a lightning-flash. There were +pistols, rare gems of choicest workmanship, in one of the buhl-cabinets +in that very room; there were both fowling-piece and ammunition in Mr. +Marchmont's dressing-room: but the artist was not expert with the use +of firearms, and he might fail in the attempt to blow out his brains, +and only maim or disfigure himself hideously. There was the river,--the +black, sluggish river: but then, drowning is a slow death, and Heaven +only knows how long the agony may seem to the wretch who endures it! +Alas! the ghastly truth of the matter is that Mr. Marchmont was afraid +of death. Look at the King of Terrors how he would, he could not +discover any pleasing aspect under which he could meet the grim monarch +without flinching. + +He looked at life; but if life was less terrible than death, it was not +less dreary. He looked forward with a shudder to see--what? +Humiliation, disgrace, perhaps punishment,--life-long transportation, +it may be; for this base conspiracy might be a criminal offence, +amenable to criminal law. Or, escaping all this, what was there for +him? What was there for this man even then? For forty years he had been +steeped to the lips in poverty, and had endured his life. He looked +back now, and wondered how it was that he had been patient; he wondered +why he had not made an end of himself and his obscure troubles twenty +years before this night. But after looking back a little longer, he saw +the star which had illumined the darkness of that miserable and sordid +existence, and he understood the reason of his endurance. He had hoped. +Day after day he had got up to go through the same troubles, to endure +the same humiliations: but every day, when his life had been hardest to +him, he had said, "To-morrow I may be master of Marchmont Towers." But +he could never hope this any more; he could not go back to watch and +wait again, beguiled by the faint hope that Mary Arundel's son might +die, and to hear by-and-by that other children were born to her to +widen the great gulf betwixt him and fortune. + +He looked back, and he saw that he had lived from day to day, from year +to year, lured on by this one hope. He looked forward, and he saw that +he could not live without it. + +There had never been but this one road to good fortune open to him. He +was a clever man, but his was not the cleverness which can transmute +itself into solid cash. He could only paint indifferent pictures; and +he had existed long enough by picture-painting to realise the utter +hopelessness of success in that career. + +He had borne his life while he was in it, but he could not bear to go +back to it. He had been out of it, and had tasted another phase of +existence; and he could see it all now plainly, as if he had been a +spectator sitting in the boxes and watching a dreary play performed +upon a stage before him. The performers in the remotest provincial +theatre believe in the play they are acting. The omnipotence of passion +creates dewy groves and moonlit atmospheres, ducal robes and beautiful +women. But the metropolitan spectator, in whose mind the memory of +better things is still fresh, sees that the moonlit trees are poor +distemper daubs, pushed on by dirty carpenters, and the moon a green +bottle borrowed from a druggist's shop, the ducal robes threadbare +cotton velvet and tarnished tinsel, and the heroine of the drama old +and ugly. + +So Paul looked at the life he had endured, and wondered as he saw how +horrible it was. + +He could see the shabby lodging, the faded furniture, the miserable +handful of fire struggling with the smoke in a shallow grate, that had +been half-blocked up with bricks by some former tenant as badly off as +himself. He could look back at that dismal room, with the ugly paper on +the walls, the scanty curtains flapping in the wind which they +pretended to shut out; the figure of his mother sitting near the +fireplace, with that pale, anxious face, which was a perpetual +complaint against hardship and discomfort. He could see his sister +standing at the window in the dusky twilight, patching up some worn-out +garment, and straining her eyes for the sake of economising in the +matter of half an inch of candle. And the street below the window,--the +shabby-genteel street, with a dingy shop breaking out here and there, +and children playing on the doorsteps, and a muffin-bell jingling +through the evening fog, and a melancholy Italian grinding "Home, sweet +Home!" in the patch of lighted road opposite the pawnbroker's. He saw +it all; and it was all alike--sordid, miserable, hopeless. + +Paul Marchmont had never sunk so low as his cousin John. He had never +descended so far in the social scale as to carry a banner at Drury +Lane, or to live in one room in Oakley Street, Lambeth. But there had +been times when to pay the rent of three rooms had been next kin to an +impossibility to the artist, and when the honorarium of a shilling a +night would have been very acceptable to him. He had drained the cup of +poverty to the dregs; and now the cup was filled again, and the bitter +draught was pushed once more into his unwilling hand. + +He must drink that, or another potion,--a sleeping-draught, which is +commonly called Death. He must die! But how? His coward heart sank as +the awful alternative pressed closer upon him. He must +die!--to-night,--at once,--in that house; so that when they came in the +morning to eject him, they would have little trouble; they would only +have to carry out a corpse. + +He walked up and down the room, biting his finger-nails to the quick, +but coming to no resolution, until he was interrupted by the ringing of +the bell at the lobby-door. It was the messenger from his sister, no +doubt. Paul drew his watch from his waistcoat-pocket, unfastened his +chain, took a set of gold-studs from the breast of his shirt, and a +signet-ring from his finger; then he sat down at a writing-table, and +packed the watch and chain, the studs and signet-ring, and a bunch of +keys, in a large envelope. He sealed this packet, and addressed it to +his sister; then he took a candle, and went to the lobby. Mrs. Weston +had sent a young man who was an assistant and pupil of her husband's--a +good-tempered young fellow, who willingly served her in her hour of +trouble. Paul gave this messenger the key of his dressing-case and +packet. + +"You will be sure and put that in my sister's hands," he said. + +"O yes, sir. Mrs. Weston gave me this letter for you, sir. Am I to wait +for an answer?" + +"No; there will be no answer. Good night." + +"Good night, sir." + +The young man went away; and Paul Marchmont heard him whistle a popular +melody as he walked along the cloistered way and out of the quadrangle +by a low archway commonly used by the tradespeople who came to the +Towers. + +The artist stood and listened to the young man's departing footsteps. +Then, with a horrible thrill of anguish, he remembered that he had seen +his last of humankind--he had heard his last of human voices: for he +was to kill himself that night. He stood in the dark lobby, looking out +into the quadrangle. He was quite alone in the house; for the girl who +had let him in was in the laundry with her mother. He could see the +figures of the two women moving about in a great gaslit chamber upon +the other side of the quadrangle--a building which had no communication +with the rest of the house. He was to die that night; and he had not +yet even determined how he was to die. + +He mechanically opened Mrs. Weston's letter: it was only a few lines, +telling him that Peterson had arrived with the portmanteau and +dressing-case, and that there would be a comfortable room prepared for +him. "I am so glad you have changed your mind, and are coming to me, +Paul," Mrs. Weston concluded. "Your manner, when we parted to-night, +almost alarmed me." + +Paul groaned aloud as he crushed the letter in his hand. Then he went +back to the western drawing-room. He heard strange noises in the empty +rooms as he passed by their open doors, weird creaking sounds and +melancholy moanings in the wide chimneys. It seemed as if all the +ghosts of Marchmont Towers were astir to-night, moved by an awful +prescience of some coming horror. + +Paul Marchmont was an atheist; but atheism, although a very pleasant +theme for a critical and argumentative discussion after a +lobster-supper and unlimited champagne, is but a poor staff to lean +upon when the worn-out traveller approaches the mysterious portals of +the unknown land. + +The artist had boasted of his belief in annihilation; and had declared +himself perfectly satisfied with a materialistic or pantheistic +arrangement of the universe, and very indifferent as to whether he +cropped up in future years as a summer-cabbage, or a new Raphael; so +long as the ten stone or so of matter of which he was composed was made +use of somehow or other, and did its duty in the great scheme of a +scientific universe. But, oh! how that empty, soulless creed slipped +away from him now, when he stood alone in this tenantless house, +shuddering at strange spirit-noises, and horrified by a host of mystic +fears--gigantic, shapeless terrors--that crowded in his empty, godless +mind, and filled it with their hideous presence! + +He had refused to believe in a personal God. He had laughed at the idea +that there was any Deity to whom the individual can appeal, in his hour +of grief or trouble, with the hope of any separate mercy, any special +grace. He had rejected the Christian's simple creed, and now--now that +he had floated away from the shores of life, and felt himself borne +upon an irresistible current to that mysterious other side, what did he +_not_ believe in? + +Every superstition that has ever disturbed the soul of ignorant man +lent some one awful feature to the crowd of hideous images uprising in +this man's mind:--awful Chaldean gods and Carthaginian goddesses, +thirsting for the hot blood of human sacrifices, greedy for hecatombs +of children flung shrieking into fiery furnaces, or torn limb from limb +by savage beasts; Babylonian abominations; Egyptian Isis and Osiris; +classical divinities, with flaming swords and pale impassible faces, +rigid as the Destiny whose type they were; ghastly Germanic demons and +witches.--All the dread avengers that man, in the knowledge of his own +wickedness, has ever shadowed for himself out of the darkness of his +ignorant mind, swelled that ghastly crowd, until the artist's brain +reeled, and he was fain to sit with his head in his hands, trying, by a +great effort of the will, to exorcise these loathsome phantoms. + +"I must be going mad," he muttered to himself. "I am going mad." + +But still the great question was unanswered--How was he to kill +himself? + +"I must settle that," he thought. "I dare not think of anything that +may come afterwards. Besides, what _should_ come? I _know_ that there +is nothing. Haven't I heard it demonstrated by cleverer men than I am? +Haven't I looked at it in every light, and weighed it in every +scale--always with the same result? Yes; I know that there is nothing +_after_ the one short pang, any more than there is pain in the nerve of +a tooth when the tooth is gone. The nerve was the soul of the tooth, I +suppose; but wrench away the body, and the soul is dead. Why should I +be afraid? One short pain--it will seem long, I dare say--and then I +shall lie still for ever and ever, and melt slowly back into the +elements out of which I was created. Yes; I shall lie still--and be +_nothing_." + +Paul Marchmont sat thinking of this for a long time. Was it such a +great advantage, after all, this annihilation, the sovereign good of +the atheist's barren creed? It seemed to-night to this man as if it +would be better to be anything--to suffer any anguish, any penalty for +his sins, than to be blotted out for ever and ever from any conscious +part in the grand harmony of the universe. If he could have believed in +that Roman Catholic doctrine of purgatory, and that after cycles of +years of suffering he might rise at last, purified from his sins, +worthy to dwell among the angels, how differently would death have +appeared to him! He might have gone away to hide himself in some +foreign city, to perform patient daily sacrifices, humble acts of +self-abnegation, every one of which should be a new figure, however +small a one, to be set against the great sum of his sin. + +But he could not believe. There is a vulgar proverb which says, "You +cannot have your loaf and eat it;" or if proverbs would only be +grammatical, it might be better worded, "You cannot eat your loaf, and +have it to eat on some future occasion." Neither can you indulge in +rationalistic discussions or epigrammatic pleasantry about the Great +Creator who made you, and then turn and cry aloud to Him in the +dreadful hour of your despair: "O my God, whom I have insulted and +offended, help the miserable wretch who for twenty years has +obstinately shut his heart against Thee!" It may be that God would +forgive and hear even at that last supreme moment, as He heard the +penitent thief upon the cross; but the penitent thief had been a +sinner, not an unbeliever, and he _could_ pray. The hard heart of the +atheist freezes in his breast when he would repent and put away his +iniquities. When he would fain turn to his offended Maker, the words +that he tries to speak die away upon his lips; for the habit of +blasphemy is too strong upon him; he can _blague_ upon all the mighty +mysteries of heaven and hell, but he _cannot_ pray. + +Paul Marchmont could not fashion a prayer. Horrible witticisms arose up +between him and the words he would have spoken--ghastly _bon mots_, +that had seemed so brilliant at a lamp-lit dinner-table, spoken to a +joyous accompaniment of champagne-corks and laughter. Ah, me! the world +was behind this man now, with all its pleasures; and he looked back +upon it, and thought that, even when it seemed gayest and brightest, it +was only like a great roaring fair, with flaring lights, and noisy +showmen clamoring for ever to a struggling crowd. + +How should he die? Should he go upstairs and cut his throat? + +He stood before one of his pictures--a pet picture; a girl's face by +Millais, looking through the moonlight, fantastically beautiful. He +stood before this picture, and he felt one small separate pang amid all +his misery as he remembered that Edward and Mary Arundel were now +possessors of this particular gem. + +"They sha'n't have it," he muttered to himself; "they sha'n't have +_this_, at any rate." + +He took a penknife from his pocket, and hacked and ripped the canvas +savagely, till it hung in ribbons from the deep gilded frame. + +Then he smiled to himself, for the first time since he had entered that +house, and his eyes flashed with a sudden light. + +"I have lived like Sardanapalus for the last year," he cried aloud; +"and I will die like Sardanapalus!" + +There was a fragile piece of furniture near him,--an _étagère_ of +marqueterie work, loaded with costly _bric à brac_, Oriental porcelain, +Sèvres and Dresden, old Chelsea and crown Derby cups and saucers, and +quaint teapots, crawling vermin in Pallissy ware, Indian monstrosities, +and all manner of expensive absurdities, heaped together in artistic +confusion. Paul Marchmont struck the slim leg of the _étagère_ with his +foot, and laughed aloud as the fragile toys fell into a ruined heap +upon the carpet. He stamped upon the broken china; and the frail cups +and saucers crackled like eggshells under his savage feet. + +"I will die like Sardanapalus!" he cried; "the King Arbaces shall never +rest in the palace I have beautified. + + 'Now order here + Fagots, pine-nuts, and wither'd leaves, and such + Things as catch fire with one sole spark; + Bring cedar, too, and precious drugs, and spices, + And mighty planks, to nourish a tall pile; + Bring frankincense and myrrh, too; for it is + For a great sacrifice I build the pyre.' + +I don't think much of your blank verse, George Gordon Noel Byron. Your +lines end on lame syllables; your ten-syllable blank verse lacks the +fiery ring of your rhymes. I wonder whether Marchmont Towers is +insured? Yes, I remember paying a premium last Christmas. They may have +a sharp tussle with the insurance companies though. Yes, I will die +like Sardanapalus--no, not like him, for I have no Myrrha to mount the +pile and cling about me to the last. Pshaw! a modern Myrrha would leave +Sardanapalus to perish alone, and be off to make herself safe with the +new king." + +Paul snatched up the candle, and went out into the hall. He laughed +discordantly, and spoke in loud ringing tones. His manner had that +feverish excitement which the French call exaltation. He ran up the +broad stairs leading to the long corridor, out of which his own rooms, +and his mother's and sister's rooms, opened. + +Ah, how pretty they were! How elegant he had made them in his reckless +disregard of expense, his artistic delight in the task of +beautification! There were no shutters here, and the summer breeze blew +in through the broken windows, and stirred the gauzy muslin curtains, +the gay chintz draperies, the cloudlike festoons of silk and lace. Paul +Marchmont went from room to room with the flaring candle in his hand; +and wherever there were curtains or draperies about the windows, the +beds, the dressing-tables, the low lounging-chairs, and cosy little +sofas, he set alight to them. He did this with wonderful rapidity, +leaving flames behind him as he traversed the long corridor, and coming +back thus to the stairs. He went downstairs again, and returned to the +western drawing-room. Then he blew out his candle, turned out the gas, +and waited. + +"How soon will it come?" he thought. + +The shutters were shut, and the room was quite dark. + +"Shall I ever have courage to stop till it comes?" + +Paul Marchmont groped his way to the door, double-locked it, and then +took the key from the lock. + +He went to one of the windows, clambered upon a chair, opened the top +shutter, and flung the key out through the broken window. He heard it +strike jingling upon the stone terrace and then bound away, Heaven +knows where. + +"I shan't be able to go out by the door, at any rate," he thought. + +It was quite dark in the room, but the reflection of the spreading +flames was growing crimson in the sky outside. Mr. Marchmont went away +from the window, feeling his way amongst the chairs and tables. He +could see the red light through the crevices of the shutters, and a +lurid patch of sky through that one window, the upper half of which he +had left open. He sat down, somewhere near the centre of the room, and +waited. + +"The smoke will kill me," he thought. "I shall know nothing of the +fire." + +He sat quite still. He had trembled violently while he had gone from +room to room doing his horrible work; but his nerves seemed steadier +now. Steadier! why, he was transformed to stone! His heart seemed to +have stopped beating; and he only knew by a sick anguish, a dull aching +pain, that it was still in his breast. + +He sat waiting and thinking. In that time all the long story of the +past was acted before him, and he saw what a wretch he had been. I do +not know whether this was penitence; but looking at that enacted story, +Paul Marchmont thought that his own part in the play was a mistake, and +that it was a foolish thing to be a villain. + + * * * * * + +When a great flock of frightened people, with a fire-engine out of +order, and drawn by whooping men and boys, came hurrying up to the +Towers, they found a blazing edifice, which looked like an enchanted +castle--great stone-framed windows vomiting flame; tall chimneys +toppling down upon a fiery roof; molten lead, like water turned to +fire, streaming in flaming cataracts upon the terrace; and all the sky +lit up by that vast pile of blazing ruin. Only salamanders, or poor Mr. +Braidwood's own chosen band, could have approached Marchmont Towers +that night. The Kemberling firemen and the Swampington firemen, who +came by-and-by, were neither salamanders nor Braidwoods. They stood +aloof and squirted water at the flames, and recoiled aghast by-and-by +when the roof came down like an avalanche of blazing timber, leaving +only a gaunt gigantic skeleton of red-hot stone where Marchmont Towers +once had been. + +When it was safe to venture in amongst the ruins--and this was not for +many hours after the fire had burnt itself out--people looked for Paul +Marchmont; but amidst all that vast chaos of smouldering ashes, there +was nothing found that could be identified as the remains of a human +being. No one knew where the artist had been at the time of the fire, +or indeed whether he had been in the house at all; and the popular +opinion was, that Paul had set fire to the mansion, and had fled away +before the flames began to spread. + +But Lavinia Weston knew better than this. She knew now why her brother +had sent her every scrap of valuable property belonging to him. She +understood now why he had come back to her to bid her good-night for +the second time, and press his cold lips to hers. + + + + +CHAPTER THE LAST. + +"DEAR IS THE MEMORY OF OUR WEDDED LIVES." + + +Mary and Edward Arundel saw the awful light in the sky, and heard the +voices of the people shouting in the street below, and calling to one +another that Marchmont Towers was on fire. + +The young mistress of the burning pile had very little concern for her +property. She only kept saying, again and again, "O Edward! I hope +there is no one in the house. God grant there may be no one in the +house!" + +And when the flames were highest, and it seemed by the light in the sky +as if all Lincolnshire had been blazing, Edward Arundel's wife flung +herself upon her knees, and prayed aloud for any unhappy creature that +might be in peril. + +Oh, if we could dare to think that this innocent girl's prayer was +heard before the throne of an Awful Judge, pleading for the soul of a +wicked man! + +Early the next morning Mrs. Arundel came from Lawford Grange with her +confidential maid, and carried off her daughter-in-law and the baby, on +the first stage of the journey into Devonshire. Before she left +Kemberling, Mary was told that no dead body had been found amongst the +ruins of the Towers; and this assertion deluded her into the belief +that no unhappy creature had perished. So she went to Dangerfield +happier than she had ever been since the sunny days of her honeymoon, +to wait there for the coming of Edward Arundel, who was to stay behind +to see Richard Paulette and Mr. Gormby, and to secure the testimony of +Mr. Weston and Betsy Murrel with a view to the identification of Mary's +little son, who had been neither registered nor christened. + +I have no need to dwell upon this process of identification, +registration, and christening, through which Master Edward Arundel had +to pass in the course of the next month. I had rather skip this +dry-as-dust business, and go on to that happy time which Edward and his +young wife spent together under the oaks at Dangerfield--that bright +second honeymoon season, while they were as yet houseless; for a pretty +villa-like mansion was being built on the Marchmont property, far away +from the dank wood and the dismal river, in a pretty pastoral little +nook, which was a fair oasis amidst the general dreariness of +Lincolnshire. + +I need scarcely say that the grand feature of this happy time was THE +BABY. It will be of course easily understood that this child stood +alone amongst babies. There never had been another such infant; it was +more than probable there would never again be such a one. In every +attribute of babyhood he was a twelvemonth in advance of the rest of +his race. Prospective greatness was stamped upon his brow. He would be +a Clive or a Wellington, unless indeed he should have a fancy for the +Bar and the Woolsack, in which case he would be a little more erudite +than Lyndhurst, a trifle more eloquent than Brougham. All this was +palpable to the meanest capacity in the very manner in which this child +crowed in his nurse's arms, or choked himself with farinaceous food, or +smiled recognition at his young father, or performed the simplest act +common to infancy. + +I think Mr. Sant would have been pleased to paint one of those summer +scenes at Dangerfield--the proud soldier-father; the pale young wife; +the handsome, matronly grandmother; and, as the mystic centre of that +magic circle, the toddling flaxen-haired baby, held up by his father's +hands, and taking caricature strides in imitation of papa's big steps. + +To my mind, it is a great pity that children are not children for +ever--that the pretty baby-boy by Sant, all rosy and flaxen and +blue-eyed, should ever grow into a great angular pre-Raphaelite +hobadahoy, horribly big and out of drawing. But neither Edward nor Mary +nor, above all, Mrs. Arundel were of this opinion. They were as eager +for the child to grow up and enter for the great races of this life, as +some speculative turf magnate who has given a fancy price for a +yearling, and is pining to see the animal a far-famed three-year-old, +and winner of the double event. + +Before the child had cut a double-tooth Mrs. Arundel senior had decided +in favour of Eton as opposed to Harrow, and was balancing the +conflicting advantages of classical Oxford and mathematical Cambridge; +while Edward could not see the baby-boy rolling on the grass, with blue +ribbons and sashes fluttering in the breeze, without thinking of his +son's future appearance in the uniform of his own regiment, gorgeous in +the splendid crush of a levee at St. James's. + +How many airy castles were erected in that happy time, with the baby +for the foundation-stone of all of them! _The_ BABY! Why, that definite +article alone expresses an infinity of foolish love and admiration. +Nobody says _the_ father, the husband, the mother; it is "my" father, +my husband, as the case may be. But every baby, from St. Giles's to +Belgravia, from Tyburnia to St. Luke's, is "the" baby. The infant's +reign is short, but his royalty is supreme, and no one presumes to +question his despotic rule. + +Edward Arundel almost worshipped the little child whose feeble cry he +had heard in the October twilight, and had _not_ recognised. He was +never tired of reproaching himself for this omission. That baby-voice +_ought_ to have awakened a strange thrill in the young father's breast. + +That time at Dangerfield was the happiest period of Mary's life. All +her sorrows had melted away. They did not tell her of Paul Marchmont's +suspected fate; they only told her that her enemy had disappeared, and +that no one knew whither he had gone. Mary asked once, and once only, +about her stepmother; and she was told that Olivia was at Swampington +Rectory, living with her father, and that people said she was mad. +George Weston had emigrated to Australia, with his wife, and his wife's +mother and sister. There had been no prosecution for conspiracy; the +disappearance of the principal criminal had rendered that unnecessary. + +This was all that Mary ever heard of her persecutors. She did not wish +to hear of them; she had forgiven them long ago. I think that in the +inner depths of her innocent heart she had forgiven them from the +moment she had fallen on her husband's breast in Hester's parlour at +Kemberling, and had felt his strong arms clasped about her, sheltering +her from all harm for evermore. + +She was very happy; and her nature, always gentle, seemed sublimated by +the sufferings she had endured, and already akin to that of the angels. +Alas, this was Edward Arundel's chief sorrow! This young wife, so +precious to him in her fading loveliness, was slipping away from him, +even in the hour when they were happiest together--was separated from +him even when they were most united. She was separated from him by that +unconquerable sadness in his heart, which was prophetic of a great +sorrow to come. + +Sometimes, when Mary saw her husband looking at her with a mournful +tenderness, an almost despairing love in his eyes, she would throw +herself into his arms, and say to him: + +"You must remember how happy I have been, Edward. O my darling! promise +me always to remember how happy I have been." + +When the first chill breezes of autumn blew among the Dangerfield oaks, +Edward Arundel took his wife southwards, with his mother and the +inevitable baby in her train. They went to Nice, and they were very +quiet, very happy, in the pretty southern town, with snow-clad +mountains behind them, and the purple Mediterranean before. + +The villa was building all this time in Lincolnshire. Edward's agent +sent him plans and sketches for Mrs. Arundel's approval; and every +evening there was some fresh talk about the arrangement of the rooms, +and the laying-out of gardens. Mary was always pleased to see the plans +and drawings, and to discuss the progress of the work with her husband. +She would talk of the billiard-room, and the cosy little smoking-room, +and the nurseries for the baby, which were to have a southern aspect, +and every advantage calculated to assist the development of that rare +and marvellous blossom; and she would plan the comfortable apartments +that were to be specially kept for dear grandmamma, who would of course +spend a great deal of her time at the Sycamores--the new place was to +be called the Sycamores. But Edward could never get his wife to talk of +a certain boudoir opening into a tiny conservatory, which he himself +had added on to the original architect's plan. He could never get Mary +to speak of this particular chamber; and once, when he asked her some +question about the colour of the draperies, she said to him, very +gently,-- + +"I would rather you would not think of that room, darling." + +"Why, my pet?" + +"Because it will make you sorry afterwards." + +"Mary, my darling----" + +"O Edward! you know,--you must know, dearest,--that I shall never see +that place?" + +But her husband took her in his arms, and declared that this was only a +morbid fancy, and that she was getting better and stronger every day, +and would live to see her grandchildren playing under the maples that +sheltered the northern side of the new villa. Edward told his wife +this, and he believed in the truth of what he said. He could not +believe that he was to lose this young wife, restored to him after so +many trials. Mary did not contradict him just then; but that night, +when he was sitting in her room reading by the light of a shaded lamp +after she had gone to bed,--Mary went to bed very early, by order of +the doctors, and indeed lived altogether according to medical +_régime_,--she called her husband to her. + +"I want to speak to you, dear," she said; "there is something that I +must say to you." + +The young man knelt down by his wife's bed. + +"What is it, darling?" he asked. + +"You know what we said to-day, Edward?" + +"What, darling? We say so many things every day--we are so happy +together, and have so much to talk about." + +"But you remember, Edward,--you remember what I said about never seeing +the Sycamores? Ah! don't stop me, dear love," Mary said reproachfully, +for Edward put his lips to hers to stay the current of mournful +words,--"don't stop me, dear, for I must speak to you. I want you to +know that _it must be_, Edward darling. I want you to remember how +happy I have been, and how willing I am to part with you, dear, since +it is God's will that we should be parted. And there is something else +that I want to say, Edward. Grandmamma told me something--all about +Belinda. I want you to promise me that Belinda shall be happy +by-and-by; for she has suffered so much, poor girl! And you will love +her, and she will love the baby. But you won't love her quite the same +way that you loved me, will you, dear? because you never knew her when +she was a little child, and very poor. She has never been an orphan, +and quite lonely, as I have been. You have never been _all the world_ +to her." + + * * * * * + +The Sycamores was finished by the following midsummer, but no one took +possession of the newly-built house; no brisk upholsterer's men came, +with three-foot rules and pencils and memorandum-books, to take +measurements of windows and floors; no wagons of splendid furniture +made havoc of the gravel-drive before the principal entrance. The only +person who came to the new house was a snuff-taking crone from +Stanfield, who brought a turn-up bedstead, a Dutch clock, and a few +minor articles of furniture, and encamped in a corner of the best +bedroom. + +Edward Arundel, senior, was away in India, fighting under Napier and +Outram; and Edward Arundel, junior, was at Dangerfield, under the +charge of his grandmother. + +Perhaps the most beautiful monument in one of the English cemeteries at +Nice is that tall white marble cross and kneeling figure, before which +strangers pause to read an inscription to the memory of Mary, the +beloved wife of Edward Dangerfield Arundel. + + + + +THE EPILOGUE. + + +Four years after the completion of that pretty stuccoed villa, which +seemed destined never to be inhabited, Belinda Lawford walked alone up +and down the sheltered shrubbery-walk in the Grange garden in the +fading September daylight. + +Miss Lawford was taller and more womanly-looking than she had been on +the day of her interrupted wedding. The vivid bloom had left her +cheeks; but I think she was all the prettier because of that delicate +pallor, which gave a pensive cast to her countenance. She was very +grave and gentle and good; but she had never forgotten the shock of +that broken bridal ceremonial in Hillingsworth Church. + +The Major had taken his eldest daughter abroad almost immediately after +that July day; and Belinda and her father had travelled together very +peacefully, exploring quiet Belgian cities, looking at celebrated +altar-pieces in dusky cathedrals, and wandering round battle-fields, +which the intermingled blood of rival nations had once made one crimson +swamp. They had been nearly a twelvemonth absent, and then Belinda +returned to assist at the marriage of a younger sister, and to hear +that Edward Arundel's wife had died of a lingering pulmonary complaint +at Nice. + +She was told this: and she was told how Olivia Marchmont still lived +with her father at Swampington, and how day by day she went the same +round from cottage to cottage, visiting the sick; teaching little +children, or sometimes rough-bearded men, to read and write and cipher; +reading to old decrepid pensioners; listening to long histories of +sickness and trial, and exhibiting an unwearying patience that was akin +to sublimity. Passion had burnt itself out in this woman's breast, and +there was nothing in her mind now but remorse, and the desire to +perform a long penance, by reason of which she might in the end be +forgiven. + +But Mrs. Marchmont never visited anyone alone. Wherever she went, +Barbara Simmons accompanied her, constant as her shadow. The +Swampington people said this was because the Rector's daughter was not +quite right in her mind; and there were times when she forgot where she +was, and would have wandered away in a purposeless manner, Heaven knows +where, had she not been accompanied by her faithful servant. Clever as +the Swampington people and the Kemberling people might be in finding +out the business of their neighbours, they never knew that Olivia +Marchmont had been consentient to the hiding-away of her stepdaughter. +They looked upon her, indeed, with considerable respect, as a heroine +by whose exertions Paul Marchmont's villany had been discovered. In the +hurry and confusion of the scene at Hillingsworth Church, nobody had +taken heed of Olivia's incoherent self-accusations: Hubert Arundel was +therefore spared the misery of knowing the extent of his daughter's +sin. + +Belinda Lawford came home in order to be present at her sister's +wedding; and the old life began again for her, with all the old duties +that had once been so pleasant. She went about them very cheerfully +now. She worked for her poor pensioners, and took the chief burden of +the housekeeping off her mother's hands. But though she jingled her +keys with a cheery music as she went about the house, and though she +often sang to herself over her work, the old happy smile rarely lit up +her face. She went about her duties rather like some widowed matron who +had lived her life, than a girl before whom the future lies, mysterious +and unknown. + +It has been said that happiness comes to the sleeper--the meaning of +which proverb I take to be, that Joy generally comes to us when we +least look for her lovely face. And it was on this September afternoon, +when Belinda loitered in the garden after her round of small duties was +finished, and she was free to think or dream at her leisure, that +happiness came to her,--unexpected, unhoped-for, supreme; for, turning +at one end of the sheltered alley, she saw Edward Arundel standing at +the other end, with his hat in his hand, and the summer wind blowing +amongst his hair. + +Miss Lawford stopped quite still. The old-fashioned garden reeled +before her eyes, and the hard-gravelled path seemed to become a quaking +bog. She could not move; she stood still, and waited while Edward came +towards her. + +"Letitia has told me about you, Linda," he said; "she has told me how +true and noble you have been; and she sent me here to look for a wife, +to make new sunshine in my empty home,--a young mother to smile upon my +motherless boy." + +Edward and Belinda walked up and down the sheltered alley for a long +time, talking a great deal of the sad past, a little of the +fair-seeming future. It was growing dusk before they went in at the +old-fashioned half-glass door leading into the drawing-room, where Mrs. +Lawford and her younger daughters were sitting, and where Lydia, who +was next to Belinda, and had been three years married to the Curate of +Hillingsworth, was nursing her second baby. + +"Has she said 'yes'?" this young matron cried directly; for she had +been told of Edward's errand to the Grange. "But of course she has. +What else should she say, after refusing all manner of people, and +giving herself the airs of an old-maid? Yes, um pressus Pops, um Aunty +Lindy's going to be marriedy-pariedy," concluded the Curate's wife, +addressing her three-months-old baby in that peculiar patois which is +supposed to be intelligible to infants by reason of being +unintelligible to everybody else. + +"I suppose you are not aware that my future brother-in-law is a major?" +said Belinda's third sister, who had been struggling with a variation +by Thalberg, all octaves and accidentals, and who twisted herself round +upon her music-stool to address her sister. "I suppose you are not +aware that you have been talking to Major Arundel, who has done all +manner of splendid things in the Punjaub? Papa told us all about it +five minutes ago." + +It was as much as Belinda could do to support the clamorous +felicitations of her sisters, especially the unmarried damsels, who +were eager to exhibit themselves in the capacity of bridesmaids; but +by-and-by, after dinner, the Curate's wife drew her sisters away from +that shadowy window in which Edward Arundel and Belinda were sitting, +and the lovers were left to themselves. + +That evening was very peaceful, very happy, and there were many other +evenings like it before Edward and Belinda completed that ceremonial +which they had left unfinished more than five years before. + +The Sycamores was very prettily furnished, under Belinda's +superintendence; and as Reginald Arundel had lately married, Edward's +mother came to live with her younger son, and brought with her the +idolised grandchild, who was now a tall, yellow-haired boy of six years +old. + +There was only one room in the Sycamores which was never tenanted by +any one of that little household except Edward himself, who kept the +key of the little chamber in his writing-desk, and only allowed the +servants to go in at stated intervals to keep everything bright and +orderly in the apartment. + +The shut-up chamber was the boudoir which Edward Arundel had planned +for his first wife. He had ordered it to be furnished with the very +furniture which he had intended for Mary. The rosebuds and butterflies +on the walls, the guipure curtains lined with pale blush-rose silk, the +few chosen books in the little cabinet near the fireplace, the Dresden +breakfast-service, the statuettes and pictures, were things he had +fixed upon long ago in his own mind as the decorations for his wife's +apartment. He went into the room now and then, and looked at his first +wife's picture--a crayon sketch taken in London before Mary and her +husband started for the South of France. He looked a little wistfully +at this picture, even when he was happiest in the new ties that bound +him to life, and all that is brightest in life. + +Major Arundel took his eldest son into this room one day, when young +Edward was eight or nine years old, and showed the boy his mother's +portrait. + +"When you are a man, this place will be yours, Edward," the father +said. "_You_ can give your wife this room, although I have never given +it to mine. You will tell her that it was built for your mother, and +that it was built for her by a husband who, even when most grateful to +God for every new blessing he enjoyed, never ceased to be sorry for the +loss of his first love." + +And so I leave my soldier-hero, to repose upon laurels that have been +hardly won, and secure in that modified happiness which is chastened by +the memory of sorrow. I leave him with bright children crowding round +his knees, a loving wife smiling at him across those fair childish +heads. I leave him happy and good and useful, filling his place in the +world, and bringing up his children to be wise and virtuous men and +women in the days that are to come. I leave him, above all, with the +serene lamp of faith for ever burning in his soul, lighting the image +of that other world in which there is neither marrying nor giving in +marriage, and where his dead wife will smile upon him from amidst the +vast throng of angel faces--a child for ever and ever before the throne +of God! + + +THE END. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of John Marchmont's Legacy, Volume III +(of 3), by Mary E. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/34541-8.zip b/34541-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..81d6b3d --- /dev/null +++ b/34541-8.zip diff --git a/34541.txt b/34541.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4dbe53b --- /dev/null +++ b/34541.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7026 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of John Marchmont's Legacy, Volume III (of 3), by +Mary E. Braddon + +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: John Marchmont's Legacy, Volume III (of 3) + +Author: Mary E. Braddon + +Release Date: December 1, 2010 [EBook #34541] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOHN MARCHMONT'S LEGACY, VOL III *** + + + + +Produced by Clare Graham, using scans from the Internet Archive + + + + +JOHN MARCHMONT'S LEGACY. + + +BY [M.E. Braddon] THE AUTHOR OF +"LADY AUDLEY'S SECRET," +ETC. ETC. ETC. + + +IN THREE VOLUMES + +VOL. III. + + +Published by Tinsley Brothers of London in 1863 (third edition). + + + + +CONTENTS. + CHAPTER I. CAPTAIN ARUNDEL'S REVENGE. + CHAPTER II. THE DESERTED CHAMBERS. + CHAPTER III. TAKING IT QUIETLY. + CHAPTER IV. MISS LAWFORD SPEAKS HER MIND. + CHAPTER V. THE RETURN OF THE WANDERER. + CHAPTER VI. A WIDOWER'S PROPOSAL. + CHAPTER VII. HOW THE TIDINGS WERE RECEIVED IN LINCOLNSHIRE. + CHAPTER VIII. MR. WESTON REFUSES TO BE TRAMPLED ON. + CHAPTER IX. "GOING TO BE MARRIED!" + CHAPTER X. THE TURNING OF THE TIDE. + CHAPTER XI. BELINDA'S WEDDING DAY. + CHAPTER XII. MARY'S STORY. + CHAPTER XIII. "ALL WITHIN IS DARK AS NIGHT." + CHAPTER XIV. "THERE IS CONFUSION WORSE THAN DEATH." + CHAPTER THE LAST. "DEAR IS THE MEMORY OF OUR WEDDED LIVES." + THE EPILOGUE. + + + + +JOHN MARCHMONT'S LEGACY. + + +VOLUME III. + + +CHAPTER I. + +CAPTAIN ARUNDEL'S REVENGE. + + +Edward Arundel went back to his lonely home with a settled purpose in +his mind. He would leave Lincolnshire,--and immediately. He had no +motive for remaining. It may be, indeed, that he had a strong motive +for going away from the neighbourhood of Lawford Grange. There was a +lurking danger in the close vicinage of that pleasant, old-fashioned +country mansion, and the bright band of blue-eyed damsels who inhabited +there. + +"I will turn my back upon Lincolnshire for ever," Edward Arundel said +to himself once more, upon his way homeward through the October +twilight; "but before I go, the whole country shall know what I think +of Paul Marchmont." + +He clenched his fists and ground his teeth involuntarily as he thought +this. + +It was quite dark when he let himself in at the old-fashioned +half-glass door that led into his humble sitting-room at Kemberling +Retreat. He looked round the little chamber, which had been furnished +forty years before by the proprietor of the cottage, and had served for +one tenant after another, until it seemed as if the spindle-legged +chairs and tables had grown attenuated and shadowy by much service. He +looked at the simple room, lighted by a bright fire and a pair of +wax-candles in antique silver candlesticks. The red firelight flickered +and trembled upon the painted roses on the walls, on the obsolete +engravings in clumsy frames of imitation-ebony and tarnished gilt. A +silver tea-service and a Sevres china cup and saucer, which Mrs. +Arundel had sent to the cottage for her son's use, stood upon the small +oval table: and a brown setter, a favourite of the young man's, lay +upon the hearth-rug, with his chin upon his outstretched paws, blinking +at the blaze. + +As Mr. Arundel lingered in the doorway, looking at these things, an +image rose before him, as vivid and distinct as any apparition of +Professor Pepper's manufacture; and he thought of what that commonplace +cottage-chamber might have been if his young wife had lived. He could +fancy her bending over the low silver teapot,--the sprawling inartistic +teapot, that stood upon quaint knobs like gouty feet, and had been long +ago banished from the Dangerfield breakfast-table as utterly rococo and +ridiculous. He conjured up the dear dead face, with faint blushes +flickering amidst its lily pallor, and soft hazel eyes looking up at +him through the misty steam of the tea-table, innocent and virginal as +the eyes of that mythic nymph who was wont to appear to the old Roman +king. How happy she would have been! How willing to give up fortune and +station, and to have lived for ever and ever in that queer old cottage, +ministering to him and loving him! + +Presently the face changed. The hazel-brown hair was suddenly lit up +with a glitter of barbaric gold; the hazel eyes grew blue and bright; +and the cheeks blushed rosy red. The young man frowned at this new and +brighter vision; but he contemplated it gravely for some moments, and +then breathed a long sigh, which was somehow or other expressive of +relief. + +"No," he said to himself, "I am _not_ false to my poor lost girl; I do +_not_ forget her. Her image is dearer to me than any living creature. +The mournful shadow of her face is more precious to me than the +brightest reality." + +He sat down in one of the spindle-legged arm-chairs, and poured out a +cup of tea. He drank it slowly, brooding over the fire as he sipped the +innocuous beverage, and did not deign to notice the caresses of the +brown setter, who laid his cold wet nose in his master's hand, and +performed a species of spirit-rapping upon the carpet with his tail. + +After tea the young man rang the bell, which was answered by Mr. +Morrison. + +"Have I any clothes that I can hunt in, Morrison?" Mr. Arundel asked. + +His factotum stared aghast at this question. + +"You ain't a-goin' to 'unt, are you, Mr. Edward?" he inquired, +anxiously. + +"Never mind that. I asked you a question about my clothes, and I want a +straightforward answer." + +"But, Mr. Edward," remonstrated the old servant, "I don't mean no +offence; and the 'orses is very tidy animals in their way; but if +you're thinkin' of goin' across country,--and a pretty stiffish country +too, as I've heard, in the way of bulfinches and timber,--neither of +them 'orses has any more of a 'unter in him than I have." + +"I know that as well as you do," Edward Arundel answered coolly; "but I +am going to the meet at Marchmont Towers to-morrow morning, and I want +you to look me out a decent suit of clothes--that's all. You can have +Desperado saddled ready for me a little after eleven o'clock." + +Mr. Morrison looked even more astonished than before. He knew his +master's savage enmity towards Paul Marchmont; and yet that very master +now deliberately talked of joining in an assembly which was to gather +together for the special purpose of doing the same Paul Marchmont +honour. However, as he afterwards remarked to the two fellow-servants +with whom he sometimes condescended to be familiar, it wasn't his place +to interfere or to ask any questions, and he had held his tongue +accordingly. + +Perhaps this respectful reticence was rather the result of prudence +than of inclination; for there was a dangerous light in Edward +Arundel's eyes upon this particular evening which Mr. Morrison never +had observed before. + +The factotum said something about this later in the evening. + +"I do really think," he remarked, "that, what with that young 'ooman's +death, and the solitood of this most dismal place, and the rainy +weather,--which those as says it always rains in Lincolnshire ain't far +out,--my poor young master is not the man he were." + +He tapped his forehead ominously to give significance to his words, and +sighed heavily over his supper-beer. + + * * * * * + +The sun shone upon Paul Marchmont on the morning of the 18th of +October. The autumn sunshine streamed into his bedchamber, and awoke +the new master of Marchmont Towers. He opened his eyes and looked about +him. He raised himself amongst the down pillows, and contemplated the +figures upon the tapestry in a drowsy reverie. He had been dreaming of +his poverty, and had been disputing a poor-rate summons with an +impertinent tax-collector in the dingy passage of the house in +Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square. Ah! that horrible house had so long +been the only scene of his life, that it had grown almost a part of his +mind, and haunted him perpetually in his sleep, like a nightmare of +brick and mortar, now that he was rich, and had done with it for ever. + +Mr. Marchmont gave a faint shudder, and shook off the influence of the +bad dream. Then, propped up by the pillows, he amused himself by +admiring his new bedchamber. + +It was a handsome room, certainly--the very room for an artist and a +sybarite. Mr. Marchmont had not chosen it without due consideration. It +was situated in an angle of the house; and though its chief windows +looked westward, being immediately above those of the western +drawing-room, there was another casement, a great oriel window, facing +the east, and admitting all the grandeur of the morning sun through +painted glass, on which the Marchmont escutcheon was represented in +gorgeous hues of sapphire and ruby, emerald and topaz, amethyst and +aqua-marine. Bright splashes of these colours flashed and sparkled on +the polished oaken floor, and mixed themselves with the Oriental +gaudiness of a Persian carpet, stretched beneath the low Arabian bed, +which was hung with ruby-coloured draperies that trailed upon the +ground. Paul Marchmont was fond of splendour, and meant to have as much +of it as money could buy. There was a voluptuous pleasure in all this +finery, which only a parvenu could feel; it was the sharpness of the +contrast between the magnificence of the present and the shabby +miseries of the past that gave a piquancy to the artist's enjoyment of +his new habitation. + +All the furniture and draperies of the chamber had been made by Paul +Marchmont's direction; but its chief beauty was the tapestry that +covered the walls, which had been worked, two hundred and fifty years +before, by a patient chatelaine of the House of Marchmont. This +tapestry lined the room on every side. The low door had been cut in it; +so that a stranger going into that apartment at night, a little under +the influence of the Marchmont cellars, and unable to register the +topography of the chamber upon the tablet of his memory, might have +been sorely puzzled to find an exit the next morning. Most tapestried +chambers have a certain dismal grimness about them, which is more +pleasant to the sightseer than to the constant inhabitant; but in this +tapestry the colours were almost as bright and glowing to-day as when +the fingers that had handled the variegated worsteds were still warm +and flexible. The subjects, too, were of a more pleasant order than +usual. No mailed ruffians or drapery-clad barbarians menaced the +unoffending sleeper with uplifted clubs, or horrible bolts, in the very +act of being launched from ponderous crossbows; no wicked-looking +Saracens, with ferocious eyes and copper-coloured visages, brandished +murderous scimitars above their turbaned heads. No; here all was +pastoral gaiety and peaceful delight. Maidens, with flowing kirtles and +crisped yellow hair, danced before great wagons loaded with golden +wheat. Youths, in red and purple jerkins, frisked as they played the +pipe and tabor. The Flemish horses dragging the heavy wain were hung +with bells and garlands as for a rustic festival, and tossed their +untrimmed manes into the air, and frisked and gamboled with their +awkward legs, in ponderous imitation of the youths and maidens. Afar +off, in the distance, wonderful villages, very queer as to perspective, +but all a-bloom with gaudy flowers and quaint roofs of bright-red +tiles, stood boldly out against a bluer sky than the most enthusiastic +pre-Raphaelite of to-day would care to send to the Academy in Trafalgar +Square. + +Paul Marchmont smiled at the youths and maidens, the laden wagons, the +revellers, and the impossible village. He was in a humour to be pleased +with everything to-day. He looked at his dressing-table, which stood +opposite to him, in the deep oriel window. His valet--he had a valet +now--had opened the great inlaid dressing-case, and the silver-gilt +fittings reflected the crimson hues of the velvet lining, as if the +gold had been flecked with blood. Glittering bottles of diamond-cut +glass, that presented a thousand facets to the morning light, stood +like crystal obelisks amid the litter of carved-ivory brushes and +Sevres boxes of pomatum; and one rare hothouse flower, white and +fragile, peeped out of a slender crystal vase, against a background of +dark shining leaves. + +"It's better than Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square," said Mr. +Marchmont, throwing himself back amongst the pillows until such time as +his valet should bring him a cup of strong tea to refresh and +invigorate his nerves withal. "I remember the paper in my room: drab +hexagons and yellow spots upon a brown ground. _So_ pretty! And then +the dressing-table: deal, gracefully designed; with a shallow drawer, +in which my razors used to rattle like castanets when I tried to pull +it open; a most delicious table, exquisitely painted in stripes, +olive-green upon stone colour, picked out with the favourite brown. Oh, +it was a most delightful life; but it's over, thank Providence; it's +over!" + +Mr. Paul Marchmont thanked Providence as devoutly as if he had been the +most patient attendant upon the Divine pleasure, and had never for one +moment dreamed of intruding his own impious handiwork amid the +mysterious designs of Omnipotence. + +The sun shone upon the new master of Marchmont Towers. This bright +October morning was not the very best for hunting purposes; for there +was a fresh breeze blowing from the north, and a blue unclouded sky. +But it was most delightful weather for the breakfast, and the +assembling on the lawn, and all the pleasant preliminaries of the day's +sport. Mr. Paul Marchmont, who was a thorough-bred Cockney, troubled +himself very little about the hunt as he basked in that morning light. +He only thought that the sun was shining upon him, and that he had come +at last--no matter by what crooked ways--to the realisation of his +great day-dream, and that he was to be happy and prosperous for the +rest of his life. + +He drank his tea, and then got up and dressed himself. He wore the +conventional "pink," the whitest buckskins, the most approved boots and +tops; and he admired himself very much in the cheval glass when this +toilet was complete. He had put on the dress for the gratification of +his vanity, rather than from any serious intention of doing what he was +about as incapable of doing, as he was of becoming a modern Rubens or a +new Raphael. He would receive his friends in this costume, and ride to +cover, and follow the hounds, perhaps,--a little way. At any rate, it +was very delightful to him to play the country gentleman; and he had +never felt so much a country gentleman as at this moment, when he +contemplated himself from head to heel in his hunting costume. + +At ten o'clock the guests began to assemble; the meet was not to take +place until twelve, so that there might be plenty of time for the +breakfast. + +I don't think Paul Marchmont ever really knew what took place at that +long table, at which he sat for the first time in the place of host and +master. He was intoxicated from the first with the sense of triumph and +delight in his new position; and he drank a great deal, for he drank +unconsciously, emptying his glass every time it was filled, and never +knowing who filled it, or what was put into it. By this means he took a +very considerable quantity of various sparkling and effervescing wines; +sometimes hock, sometimes Moselle, very often champagne, to say nothing +of a steady undercurrent of unpronounceable German hocks and crusted +Burgundies. But he was not drunk after the common fashion of mortals; +he could not be upon this particular day. He was not stupid, or drowsy, +or unsteady upon his legs; he was only preternaturally excited, looking +at everything through a haze of dazzling light, as if all the gold of +his newly-acquired fortune had been melted into the atmosphere. + +He knew that the breakfast was a great success; that the long table was +spread with every delicious comestible that the science of a first-rate +cook, to say nothing of Fortnum and Mason, could devise; that the +profusion of splendid silver, the costly china, the hothouse flowers, +and the sunshine, made a confused mass of restless glitter and glowing +colour that dazzled his eyes as he looked at it. He knew that everybody +courted and flattered him, and that he was almost stifled by the +overpowering sense of his own grandeur. Perhaps he felt this most when +a certain county magnate, a baronet, member of Parliament, and great +landowner, rose,--primed with champagne, and rather thicker of +utterance than a man should be who means to be in at the death, +by-and-by,--and took the opportunity of--hum--expressing, in a few +words,--haw--the very great pleasure which he--aw, yes--and he thought +he might venture to remark,--aw--everybody about him--ha--felt on this +most--arrah, arrah--interesting--er--occasion; and said a great deal +more, which took a very long time to say, but the gist of which was, +that all these country gentlemen were so enraptured by the new addition +to their circle, and so altogether delighted with Mr. Paul Marchmont, +that they really were at a loss to understand how it was they had ever +managed to endure existence without him. + +And then there was a good deal of rather unnecessary but very +enthusiastic thumping of the table, whereat the costly glass shivered, +and the hothouse blossoms trembled, amidst the musical chinking of +silver forks; while the foxhunters declared in chorus that the new +owner of Marchmont Towers was a jolly good fellow, which--_i.e._, the +fact of his jollity--nobody could deny. + +It was not a very fine demonstration, but it was a very hearty one. +Moreover, these noisy foxhunters were all men of some standing in the +county; and it is a proof of the artist's inherent snobbery that to him +the husky voices of these half-drunken men were more delicious than the +sweet soprano tones of an equal number of Pattis--penniless and obscure +Pattis, that is to say--sounding his praises. He was lifted at last out +of that poor artist-life, in which he had always been a groveller,--not +so much for lack of talent as by reason of the smallness of his own +soul,--into a new sphere, where everybody was rich and grand and +prosperous, and where the pleasant pathways were upon the necks of +prostrate slaves, in the shape of grooms and hirelings, respectful +servants, and reverential tradespeople. + +Yes, Paul Marchmont was more drunken than any of his guests; but his +drunkenness was of a different kind to theirs. It was not the wine, but +his own grandeur that intoxicated and besotted him. + +These foxhunters might get the better of their drunkenness in half an +hour or so; but his intoxication was likely to last for a very long +time, unless he should receive some sudden shock, powerful enough to +sober him. + +Meanwhile the hounds were yelping and baying upon the lawn, and the +huntsmen and whippers-in were running backwards and forwards from the +lawn to the servants' hall, devouring snacks of beef and ham,--a pound +and a quarter or so at one sitting; or crunching the bones of a +frivolous young chicken,--there were not half a dozen mouthfuls on such +insignificant half-grown fowls; or excavating under the roof of a great +game-pie; or drinking a quart or so of strong ale, or half a tumbler of +raw brandy, _en passant_; and doing a great deal more in the same way, +merely to beguile the time until the gentlefolks should appear upon the +broad stone terrace. + +It was half-past twelve o'clock, and Mr. Marchmont's guests were still +drinking and speechifying. They had been on the point of making a move +ever so many times; but it had happened every time that some gentleman, +who had been very quiet until that moment, suddenly got upon his legs, +and began to make swallowing and gasping noises, and to wipe his lips +with a napkin; whereby it was understood that he was going to propose +somebody's health. This had considerably lengthened the entertainment, +and it seemed rather likely that the ostensible business of the day +would be forgotten altogether. But at half-past twelve, the county +magnate, who had bidden Paul Marchmont a stately welcome to +Lincolnshire, remembered that there were twenty couple of impatient +hounds scratching up the turf in front of the long windows of the +banquet-chamber, while as many eager young tenant-farmers, stalwart +yeomen, well-to-do butchers, and a herd of tag-rag and bobtail, were +pining for the sport to begin;--at last, I say, Sir Lionel Boport +remembered this, and led the way to the terrace, leaving the renegades +to repose on the comfortable sofas lurking here and there in the +spacious rooms. Then the grim stone front of the house was suddenly +lighted up into splendour. The long terrace was one blaze of "pink," +relieved here and there by patches of sober black and forester's green. +Amongst all these stalwart, florid-visaged country gentlemen, Paul +Marchmont, very elegant, very picturesque, but extremely +unsportsmanlike, the hero of the hour, walked slowly down the broad +stone steps amidst the vociferous cheering of the crowd, the snapping +and yelping of impatient hounds, and the distant braying of a horn. + +It was the crowning moment of his life; the moment he had dreamed of +again and again in the wretched days of poverty and obscurity. The +scene was scarcely new to him,--he had acted it so often in his +imagination; he had heard the shouts and seen the respectful crowd. +There was a little difference in detail; that was all. There was no +disappointment, no shortcoming in the realisation; as there so often is +when our brightest dreams are fulfilled, and the one great good, the +all-desired, is granted to us. No; the prize was his, and it was worth +all that he had sacrificed to win it. + +He looked up, and saw his mother and his sisters in the great window +over the porch. He could see the exultant pride in his mother's pale +face; and the one redeeming sentiment of his nature, his love for the +womankind who depended upon him, stirred faintly in his breast, amid +the tumult of gratified ambition and selfish joy. + +This one drop of unselfish pleasure filled the cup to the brim. He took +off his hat and waved it high up above his head in answer to the +shouting of the crowd. He had stopped halfway down the flight of steps +to bow his acknowledgment of the cheering. He waved his hat, and the +huzzas grew still louder; and a band upon the other side of the lawn +played that familiar and triumphant march which is supposed to apply to +every living hero, from a Wellington just come home from Waterloo, to +the winner of a boat-race, or a patent-starch proprietor newly elected +by an admiring constituency. + +There was nothing wanting. I think that in that supreme moment Paul +Marchmont quite forgot the tortuous and perilous ways by which he had +reached this all-glorious goal. I don't suppose the young princes +smothered in the Tower were ever more palpably present in Tyrant +Richard's memory than when the murderous usurper grovelled in +Bosworth's miry clay, and knew that the great game of life was lost. It +was only when Henry the Eighth took away the Great Seal that Wolsey was +able to see the foolishness of man's ambition. In that moment memory +and conscience, never very wakeful in the breast of Paul Marchmont, +were dead asleep, and only triumph and delight reigned in their stead. +No; there was nothing wanting. This glory and grandeur paid him a +thousandfold for his patience and self-abnegation during the past year. + +He turned half round to look up at those eager watchers at the window. + +Good God! It was his sister Lavinia's face he saw; no longer full of +triumph and pleasure, but ghastly pale, and staring at someone or +something horrible in the crowd. Paul Marchmont turned to look for this +horrible something the sight of which had power to change his sister's +face; and found himself confronted by a young man,--a young man whose +eyes flamed like coals of fire, whose cheeks were as white as a sheet +of paper, and whose firm lips were locked as tightly as if they had +been chiseled out of a block of granite. + +This man was Edward Arundel,--the young widower, the handsome +soldier,--whom everybody remembered as the husband of poor lost Mary +Marchmont. + +He had sprung out from amidst the crowd only one moment before, and had +dashed up the steps of the terrace before any one had time to think of +hindering him or interfering with him. It seemed to Paul Marchmont as +if his foe must have leaped out of the solid earth, so sudden and so +unlooked-for was his coming. He stood upon the step immediately below +the artist; but as the terrace-steps were shallow, and as he was taller +by half a foot than Paul, the faces of the two men were level, and they +confronted each other. + +The soldier held a heavy hunting-whip in his hand--no foppish toy, with +a golden trinket for its head, but a stout handle of stag-horn, and a +formidable leathern thong. He held this whip in his strong right hand, +with the thong twisted round the handle; and throwing out his left arm, +nervous and muscular as the limb of a young gladiator, he seized Paul +Marchmont by the collar of that fashionably-cut scarlet coat which the +artist had so much admired in the cheval-glass that morning. + +There was a shout of surprise and consternation from the gentlemen on +the terrace and the crowd upon the lawn, a shrill scream from the +women; and in the next moment Paul Marchmont was writhing under a +shower of blows from the hunting-whip in Edward Arundel's hand. The +artist was not physically brave, yet he was not such a cur as to submit +unresistingly to this hideous disgrace; but the attack was so sudden +and unexpected as to paralyse him--so rapid in its execution as to +leave him no time for resistance. Before he had recovered his presence +of mind; before he knew the meaning of Edward Arundel's appearance in +that place; even before he could fully realise the mere fact of his +being there,--the thing was done; he was disgraced for ever. He had +sunk in that one moment from the very height of his new grandeur to the +lowest depth of social degradation. + +"Gentlemen!" Edward Arundel cried, in a loud voice, which was +distinctly heard by every member of the gaping crowd, "when the law of +the land suffers a scoundrel to prosper, honest men must take the law +into their own hands. I wished you to know my opinion of the new master +of Marchmont Towers; and I think I've expressed it pretty clearly. I +know him to be a most consummate villain; and I give you fair warning +that he is no fit associate for honourable men. Good morning." + +Edward Arundel lifted his hat, bowed to the assembly, and then ran down +the steps. Paul Marchmont, livid, and foaming at the mouth, rushed +after him, brandishing his clenched fists, and gesticulating in +impotent rage; but the young man's horse was waiting for him at a few +paces from the terrace, in the care of a butcher's apprentice, and he +was in the saddle before the artist could overtake him. + +"I shall not leave Kemberling for a week, Mr. Marchmont," he called +out; and then he walked his horse away, holding himself erect as a +dart, and staring defiance at the crowd. + +I am sorry to have to testify to the fickle nature of the British +populace; but I am bound to own that a great many of the stalwart +yeomen who had eaten game-pies and drunk strong liquors at Paul +Marchmont's expense not half an hour before, were base enough to feel +an involuntary admiration for Edward Arundel, as he rode slowly away, +with his head up and his eyes flaming. There is seldom very much +genuine sympathy for a man who has been horsewhipped; and there is a +pretty universal inclination to believe that the man who inflicts +chastisement upon him must be right in the main. It is true that the +tenant-farmers, especially those whose leases were nearly run out, were +very loud in their indignation against Mr. Arundel, and one adventurous +spirit made a dash at the young man's bridle as he went by; but the +general feeling was in favour of the conqueror, and there was a lack of +heartiness even in the loudest expressions of sympathy. + +The crowd made a lane for Paul Marchmont as he went back to the house, +white and helpless, and sick with shame. + +Several of the gentlemen upon the terrace came forward to shake hands +with him, and to express their indignation, and to offer any friendly +service that he might require of them by-and-by,--such as standing by +to see him shot, if he should choose an old-fashioned mode of +retaliation; or bearing witness against Edward Arundel in a law-court, +if Mr. Marchmont preferred to take legal measures. But even these men +recoiled when they felt the cold dampness of the artist's hands, and +saw that _he had been frightened_. These sturdy, uproarious foxhunters, +who braved the peril of sudden death every time they took a day's +sport, entertained a sovereign contempt for a man who _could_ be +frightened of anybody or anything. They made no allowance for Paul +Marchmont's Cockney education; they were not in the dark secrets of his +life, and knew nothing of his guilty conscience; and it was _that_ +which had made him more helpless than a child in the fierce grasp of +Edward Arundel. + +So one by one, after this polite show of sympathy, the rich man's +guests fell away from him; and the yelping hounds and the cantering +horses left the lawn before Marchmont Towers; the sound of the brass +band and the voices of the people died away in the distance; and the +glory of the day was done. + +Paul Marchmont crawled slowly back to that luxurious bedchamber which +he had left only a few hours before, and, throwing himself at full +length upon the bed, sobbed like a frightened child. + +He was panic-stricken; not because of the horsewhipping, but because of +a sentence that Edward Arundel had whispered close to his ear in the +midst of the struggle. + +"I know _everything_," the young man had said; "I know the secrets you +hide in the pavilion by the river!" + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE DESERTED CHAMBERS. + + +Edward Arundel kept his word. He waited for a week and upwards, but +Paul Marchmont made no sign; and after having given him three days' +grace over and above the promised time, the young man abandoned +Kemberling Retreat, for ever, as he thought, and went away from +Lincolnshire. + +He had waited; hoping that Paul Marchmont would try to retaliate, and +that some desperate struggle, physical or legal,--he scarcely cared +which,--would occur between them. He would have courted any hazard +which might have given him some chance of revenge. But nothing +happened. He sent out Mr. Morrison to beat up information about the +master of Marchmont Towers; and the factotum came back with the +intelligence that Mr. Marchmont was ill, and would see no +one--"leastways" excepting his mother and Mr. George Weston. + +Edward Arundel shrugged his shoulders when he heard these tidings. + +"What a contemptible cur the man is!" he thought. "There was a time +when I could have suspected him of any foul play against my lost girl. +I know him better now, and know that he is not even capable of a great +crime. He was only strong enough to stab his victim in the dark, with +lying paragraphs in newspapers, and dastardly hints and inuendoes." + +It would have been only perhaps an act of ordinary politeness had +Edward Arundel paid a farewell visit to his friends at the Grange. But +he did not go near the hospitable old house. He contented himself with +writing a cordial letter to Major Lawford, thanking him for his +hospitality and kindness, and referring, vaguely enough, to the hope of +a future meeting. + +He despatched this letter by Mr. Morrison, who was in very high spirits +at the prospect of leaving Kemberling, and who went about his work with +almost boyish activity in the exuberance of his delight. The valet +worked so briskly as to complete all necessary arrangements in a couple +of days; and on the 29th of October, late in the afternoon, all was +ready, and he had nothing to do but to superintend the departure of the +two horses from the Kemberling railway-station, under the guardianship +of the lad who had served as Edward's groom. + +Throughout that last day Mr. Arundel wandered here and there about the +house and garden that so soon were to be deserted. He was dreadfully at +a loss what to do with himself, and, alas! it was not to-day only that +he felt the burden of his hopeless idleness. He felt it always; a +horrible load, not to be cast away from him. His life had been broken +off short, as it were, by the catastrophe which had left him a widower +before his honeymoon was well over. The story of his existence was +abruptly broken asunder; all the better part of his life was taken away +from him, and he did not know what to do with the blank and useless +remnant. The ravelled threads of a once-harmonious web, suddenly +wrenched in twain, presented a mass of inextricable confusion; and the +young man's brain grew dizzy when he tried to draw them out, or to +consider them separately. + +His life was most miserable, most hopeless, by reason of its emptiness. +He had no duty to perform, no task to achieve. That nature must be +utterly selfish, entirely given over to sybarite rest and +self-indulgence, which does not feel a lack of something wanting +these,--a duty or a purpose. Better to be Sisyphus toiling up the +mountain-side, than Sisyphus with the stone taken away from him, and no +hope of ever reaching the top. I heard a man once--a bill-sticker, and +not by any means a sentimental or philosophical person--declare that he +had never known real prosperity until he had thirteen orphan +grandchildren to support; and surely there was a universal moral in +that bill-sticker's confession. He had been a drunkard before, +perhaps,--he didn't say anything about that,--and a reprobate, it may +be; but those thirteen small mouths clamoring for food made him sober +and earnest, brave and true. He had a duty to do, and was happy in its +performance. He was wanted in the world, and he was somebody. From +Napoleon III., holding the destinies of civilised Europe in his hands, +and debating whether he shall re-create Poland or build a new +boulevard, to Paterfamilias in a Government office, working for the +little ones at home,--and from Paterfamilias to the crossing-sweeper, +who craves his diurnal halfpenny from busy citizens, tramping to their +daily toil,--every man has his separate labour and his different +responsibility. For ever and for ever the busy wheel of life turns +round; but duty and ambition are the motive powers that keep it going. + +Edward Arundel felt the barrenness of his life, now that he had taken +the only revenge which was possible for him upon the man who had +persecuted his wife. _That_ had been a rapturous but brief enjoyment. +It was over. He could do no more to the man; since there was no lower +depth of humiliation--in these later days, when pillories and +whipping-posts and stocks are exploded from our market-places--to which +a degraded creature could descend. No; there was no more to be done. It +was useless to stop in Lincolnshire. The sad suggestion of the little +slipper found by the water-side was but too true. Paul Marchmont had +not murdered his helpless cousin; he had only tortured her to death. He +was quite safe from the law of the land, which, being of a positive and +arbitrary nature, takes no cognisance of indefinable offences. This +most infamous man was safe; and was free to enjoy his ill-gotten +grandeur--if he could take much pleasure in it, after the scene upon +the stone terrace. + +The only joy that had been left for Edward Arundel after his retirement +from the East India Company's service was this fierce delight of +vengeance. He had drained the intoxicating cup to the dregs, and had +been drunken at first in the sense of his triumph. But he was sober +now; and he paced up and down the neglected garden beneath a chill +October sky, crunching the fallen leaves under his feet, with his arms +folded and his head bent, thinking of the barren future. It was all +bare,--a blank stretch of desert land, with no city in the distance; no +purple domes or airy minarets on the horizon. It was in the very nature +of this young man to be a soldier; and he was nothing if not a soldier. +He could never remember having had any other aspiration than that eager +thirst for military glory. Before he knew the meaning of the word +"war," in his very infancy, the sound of a trumpet or the sight of a +waving banner, a glittering weapon, a sentinel's scarlet coat, had +moved him to a kind of rapture. The unvarnished schoolroom records of +Greek and Roman warfare had been as delightful to him as the finest +passages of a Macaulay or a Froude, a Thiers or Lamartine. He was a +soldier by the inspiration of Heaven, as all great soldiers are. He had +never known any other ambition, or dreamed any other dream. Other lads +had talked of the bar, and the senate, and _their_ glories. Bah! how +cold and tame they seemed! What was the glory of a parliamentary +triumph, in which words were the only weapons wielded by the +combatants, compared with a hand-to-hand struggle, ankle deep in the +bloody mire of a crowded trench, or a cavalry charge, before which a +phalanx of fierce Affghans fled like frightened sheep upon a moor! +Edward Arundel was a soldier, like the Duke of Wellington or Sir Colin +Campbell,--one writes the old romantic name involuntarily, because one +loves it best,--or Othello. The Moor's first lamentation when he +believes that Desdemona is false, and his life is broken, is that +sublime farewell to all the glories of the battle-field. It was almost +the same with Edward Arundel. The loss of his wife and of his captaincy +were blent and mingled in his mind and he could only bewail the one +great loss which left life most desolate. + +He had never felt the full extent of his desolation until now; for +heretofore he had been buoyed up by the hope of vengeance upon Paul +Marchmont; and now that his solitary hope had been realised to the +fullest possible extent, there was nothing left,--nothing but to revoke +the sacrifice he had made, and to regain his place in the Indian army +at any cost. + +He tried not to think of the possibility of this. It seemed to him +almost an infidelity towards his dead wife to dream of winning honours +and distinction, now that she, who would have been so proud of any +triumph won by him, was for ever lost. + +So, under the grey October sky he paced up and down upon the +grass-grown pathways, amidst the weeds and briars, the brambles and +broken branches that crackled as he trod upon them; and late in the +afternoon, when the day, which had been sunless and cold, was melting +into dusky twilight, he opened the low wooden gateway and went out into +the road. An impulse which he could not resist took him towards the +river-bank and the wood behind Marchmont Towers. Once more, for the +last time in his life perhaps, he went down to that lonely shore. He +went to look at the bleak unlovely place which had been the scene of +his betrothal. + +It was not that he had any thought of meeting Olivia Marchmont; he had +dismissed her from his mind ever since his last visit to the lonely +boat-house. Whatever the mystery of her life might be, her secret lay +at the bottom of a black depth which the impetuous soldier did not care +to fathom. He did not want to discover that hideous secret. Tarnished +honour, shame, falsehood, disgrace, lurked in the obscurity in which +John Marchmont's widow had chosen to enshroud her life. Let them rest. +It was not for him to drag away the curtain that sheltered his +kinswoman from the world. + +He had no thought, therefore, of prying into any secrets that might be +hidden in the pavilion by the water. The fascination that lured him to +the spot was the memory of the past. He could not go to Mary's grave; +but he went, in as reverent a spirit as he would have gone thither, to +the scene of his betrothal, to pay his farewell visit to the spot which +had been for ever hallowed by the confession of her innocent love. + +It was nearly dark when he got to the river-side. He went by a path +which quite avoided the grounds about Marchmont Towers,--a narrow +footpath, which served as a towing-path sometimes, when some black +barge crawled by on its way out to the open sea. To-night the river was +hidden by a mist,--a white fog,--that obscured land and water; and it +was only by the sound of the horses' hoofs that Edward Arundel had +warning to step aside, as a string of them went by, dragging a chain +that grated on the pebbles by the river-side. + +"Why should they say my darling committed suicide?" thought Edward +Arundel, as he groped his way along the narrow pathway. "It was on such +an evening as this that she ran away from home. What more likely than +that she lost the track, and wandered into the river? Oh, my own poor +lost one, God grant it was so! God grant it was by His will, and not +your own desperate act, that you were lost to me!" + +Sorrowful as the thought of his wife's death was to him, it soothed him +to believe that death might have been accidental. There was all the +difference betwixt sorrow and despair in the alternative. + +Wandering ignorantly and helplessly through this autumnal fog, Edward +Arundel found himself at the boat-house before he was aware of its +vicinity. + +There was a light gleaming from the broad north window of the +painting-room, and a slanting line of light streamed out of the +half-open door. In this lighted doorway Edward saw the figure of a +girl,--an unkempt, red-headed girl, with a flat freckled face; a girl +who wore a lavender-cotton pinafore and hob-nailed boots, with a good +deal of brass about the leathern fronts, and a redundancy of rusty +leathern boot-lace twisted round the ankles. + +The young man remembered having seen this girl once in the village of +Kemberling. She had been in Mrs. Weston's service as a drudge, and was +supposed to have received her education in the Swampington union. + +This young lady was supporting herself against the half-open door, with +her arms a-kimbo, and her hands planted upon her hips, in humble +imitation of the matrons whom she had been wont to see lounging at +their cottage-doors in the high street of Kemberling, when the labours +of the day were done. + +Edward Arundel started at the sudden apparition of this damsel. + +"Who are you, girl?" he asked; "and what brings you to this place?" + +He trembled as he spoke. A sudden agitation had seized upon him, which +he had no power to account for. It seemed as if Providence had brought +him to this spot to-night, and had placed this ignorant country-girl in +his way, for some special purpose. Whatever the secrets of this place +might be, he was to know them, it appeared, since he had been led here, +not by the promptings of curiosity, but only by a reverent love for a +scene that was associated with his dead wife. + +"Who are you, girl?" he asked again. + +"Oi be Betsy Murrel, sir," the damsel answered; "some on 'em calls me +'Wuk-us Bet;' and I be coom here to cle-an oop a bit." + +"To clean up what?" + +"The paa-intin' room. There's a de-al o' moock aboot, and aw'm to +fettle oop, and make all toidy agen t' squire gets well." + +"Are you all alone here?" + +"All alo-an? Oh, yes, sir." + +"Have you been here long?" + +The girl looked at Mr. Arundel with a cunning leer, which was one of +her "wuk-us" acquirements. + +"Aw've bin here off an' on ever since t' squire ke-ame," she said. +"There's a deal o' cleanin' down 'ere." + +Edward Arundel looked at her sternly; but there was nothing to be +gathered from her stolid countenance after its agreeable leer had +melted away. The young man might have scrutinised the figure-head of +the black barge creeping slowly past upon the hidden river with quite +as much chance of getting any information out of its play of feature. + +He walked past the girl into Paul Marchmont's painting-room. Miss Betsy +Murrel made no attempt to hinder him. She had spoken the truth as to +the cleaning of the place, for the room smelt of soapsuds, and a pail +and scrubbing-brush stood in the middle of the floor. The young man +looked at the door behind which he had heard the crying of the child. +It was ajar, and the stone-steps leading up to it were wet, bearing +testimony to Betsy Murrel's industry. + +Edward Arundel took the flaming tallow-candle from the table in the +painting-room, and went up the steps into the pavilion. The girl +followed, but she did not try to restrain him, or to interfere with +him. She followed him with her mouth open, staring at him after the +manner of her kind, and she looked the very image of rustic stupidity. + +With the flaring candle shaded by his left hand, Edward Arundel +examined the two chambers in the pavilion. There was very little to +reward his scrutiny. The two small rooms were bare and cheerless. The +repairs that had been executed had only gone so far as to make them +tolerably inhabitable, and secure from wind and weather. The furniture +was the same that Edward remembered having seen on his last visit to +the Towers; for Mary had been fond of sitting in one of the little +rooms, looking out at the slow river and the trembling rushes on the +shore. There was no trace of recent occupation in the empty rooms, no +ashes in the grates. The girl grinned maliciously as Mr. Arundel raised +the light above his head, and looked about him. He walked in and out of +the two rooms. He stared at the obsolete chairs, the rickety tables, +the dilapidated damask curtains, flapping every now and then in the +wind that rushed in through the crannies of the doors and windows. He +looked here and there, like a man bewildered; much to the amusement of +Miss Betsy Murrel, who, with her arms crossed, and her elbows in the +palms of her moist hands, followed him backwards and forwards between +the two small chambers. + +"There was some one living here a week ago," he said; "some one who had +the care of a----" + +He stopped suddenly. If he had guessed rightly at the dark secret, it +was better that it should remain for ever hidden. This girl was perhaps +more ignorant than himself. It was not for him to enlighten her. + +"Do you know if anybody has lived here lately?" he asked. + +Betsy Murrel shook her head. + +"Nobody has lived here--not that _oi_ knows of," she replied; "not to +take their victuals, and such loike. Missus brings her work down +sometimes, and sits in one of these here rooms, while Muster Poll does +his pictur' paa-intin'; that's all _oi_ knows of." + +Edward went back to the painting-room, and set down his candle. The +mystery of those empty chambers was no business of his. He began to +think that his cousin Olivia was mad, and that her outbursts of terror +and agitation had been only the raving of a mad woman, after all. There +had been a great deal in her manner during the last year that had +seemed like insanity. The presence of the child might have been purely +accidental; and his cousin's wild vehemence only a paroxysm of +insanity. He sighed as he left Miss Murrel to her scouring. The world +seemed out of joint; and he, whose energetic nature fitted him for the +straightening of crooked things, had no knowledge of the means by which +it might be set right. + +"Good-bye, lonely place," he said; "good-bye to the spot where my young +wife first told me of her love." + +He walked back to the cottage, where the bustle of packing and +preparation was all over, and where Mr. Morrison was entertaining a +select party of friends in the kitchen. Early the next morning Mr. +Arundel and his servant left Lincolnshire; the key of Kemberling +Retreat was given up to the landlord; and a wooden board, flapping +above the dilapidated trellis-work of the porch, gave notice that the +habitation was to be let. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +TAKING IT QUIETLY. + + +All the county, or at least all that part of the county within a +certain radius of Marchmont Towers, waited very anxiously for Mr. Paul +Marchmont to make some move. The horsewhipping business had given quite +a pleasant zest, a flavour of excitement, a dash of what it is the +fashion nowadays to call "sensation," to the wind-up of the hunting +breakfast. Poor Paul's thrashing had been more racy and appetising than +the finest olives that ever grew, and his late guests looked forward to +a great deal more excitement and "sensation" before the business was +done with. Of course Paul Marchmont would do something. He _must_ make +a stir; and the sooner he made it the better. Matters would have to be +explained. People expected to know the _cause_ of Edward Arundel's +enmity; and of course the new master of the Towers would see the +propriety of setting himself right in the eyes of his influential +acquaintance, his tenantry, and retainers; especially if he +contemplated standing for Swampington at the next general election. + +This was what people said to each other. The scene at the +hunting-breakfast was a most fertile topic of conversation. It was +almost as good as a popular murder, and furnished scandalous paragraphs +_ad infinitum_ for the provincial papers, most of them beginning, "It +is understood--," or "It has been whispered in our hearing that--," or +"Rochefoucault has observed that--." Everybody expected that Paul +Marchmont would write to the papers, and that Edward Arundel would +answer him in the papers; and that a brisk and stirring warfare would +be carried on in printer's-ink--at least. But no line written by either +of the gentlemen appeared in any one of the county journals; and by +slow degrees it dawned upon people that there was no further amusement +to be got out of Paul's chastisement, and that the master of the Towers +meant to take the thing quietly, and to swallow the horrible outrage, +taking care to hide any wry faces he made during that operation. + +Yes; Paul Marchmont let the matter drop. The report was circulated that +he was very ill, and had suffered from a touch of brain-fever, which +kept him a victim to incessant delirium until after Mr. Arundel had +left the county. This rumour was set afloat by Mr. Weston the surgeon; +and as he was the only person admitted to his brother-in-law's +apartment, it was impossible for any one to contradict his assertion. + +The fox-hunting squires shrugged their shoulders; and I am sorry to say +that the epithets, "hound," "cur," "sneak," and "mongrel," were more +often applied to Mr. Marchmont than was consistent with Christian +feeling on the part of the gentlemen who uttered them. But a man who +can swallow a sound thrashing, administered upon his own door-step, has +to contend with the prejudices of society, and must take the +consequences of being in advance of his age. + +So, while his new neighbours talked about him, Paul Marchmont lay in +his splendid chamber, with the frisking youths and maidens staring at +him all day long, and simpering at him with their unchanging faces, +until he grew sick at heart, and began to loathe all this new grandeur, +which had so delighted him a little time ago. He no longer laughed at +the recollection of shabby Charlotte Street. He dreamt one night that +he was back again in the old bedroom, with the painted deal furniture, +and the hideous paper on the walls, and that the Marchmont-Towers +magnificence had been only a feverish vision; and he was glad to be +back in that familiar place, and was sorry on awaking to find that +Marchmont Towers was a splendid reality. + +There was only one faint red streak upon his shoulders, for the +thrashing had not been a brutal one. It was _disgrace_ Edward Arundel +had wanted to inflict, not physical pain, the commonplace punishment +with which a man corrects his refractory horse. The lash of the +hunting-whip had done very little damage to the artist's flesh; but it +had slashed away his manhood, as the sickle sweeps the flowers amidst +the corn. + +He could never look up again. The thought of going out of this house +for the first time, and the horror of confronting the altered faces of +his neighbours, was as dreadful to him as the anticipation of that +awful exit from the Debtor's Door, which is the last step but one into +eternity, must be to the condemned criminal. + +"I shall go abroad," he said to his mother, when he made his appearance +in the western drawing-room, a week after Edward's departure. "I shall +go on the Continent, mother; I have taken a dislike to this place, +since that savage attacked me the other day." + +Mrs. Marchmont sighed. + +"It will seem hard to lose you, Paul, now that you are rich. You were +so constant to us through all our poverty; and we might be so happy +together now." + +The artist was walking up and down the room, with his hands in the +pockets of his braided velvet coat. He knew that in the conventional +costume of a well-bred gentleman he showed to a disadvantage amongst +other men; and he affected a picturesque and artistic style of dress, +whose brighter hues and looser outlines lighted up his pale face, and +gave a grace to his spare figure. + +"You think it worth something, then, mother?" he said presently, half +kneeling, half lounging in a deep-cushioned easy chair near the table +at which his mother sat. "You think our money is worth something to us? +All these chairs and tables, this great rambling house, the servants +who wait upon us, and the carriages we ride in, are worth something, +are they not? they make us happier, I suppose. I know I always thought +such things made up the sum of happiness when I was poor. I have seen a +hearse going away from a rich man's door, carrying his cherished wife, +or his only son, perhaps; and I've thought, 'Ah, but he has forty +thousand a year!' You are happier here than you were in Charlotte +Street, eh, mother?" + +Mrs. Marchmont was a Frenchwoman by birth, though she had lived so long +in London as to become Anglicised. She only retained a slight accent of +her native tongue, and a good deal more vivacity of look and gesture +than is common to Englishwomen. Her elder daughter was sitting on the +other side of the broad fireplace. She was only a quieter and older +likeness of Lavinia Weston. + +"_Am_ I happier?" exclaimed Mrs. Marchmont. "Need you ask me the +question, Paul? But it is not so much for myself as for your sake that +I value all this grandeur." + +She held out her long thin hand, which was covered with rings, some +old-fashioned and comparatively valueless, others lately purchased by +her devoted son, and very precious. The artist took the shrunken +fingers in his own, and raised them to his lips. + +"I'm very glad that I've made you happy, mother," he said; "that's +something gained, at any rate." + +He left the fireplace, and walked slowly up and down the room, stopping +now and then to look out at the wintry sky, or the flat expanse of turf +below it; but he was quite a different creature to that which he had +been before his encounter with Edward Arundel. The chairs and tables +palled upon him. The mossy velvet pile of the new carpets seemed to him +like the swampy ground of a morass. The dark-green draperies of Genoa +velvet deepened into black with the growing twilight, and seemed as if +they had been fashioned out of palls. + +What was it worth, this fine house, with the broad flat before it? +Nothing, if he had lost the respect and consideration of his +neighbours. He wanted to be a great man as well as a rich one. He +wanted admiration and flattery, reverence and esteem; not from poor +people, whose esteem and admiration were scarcely worth having, but +from wealthy squires, his equals or his superiors by birth and fortune. +He ground his teeth at the thought of his disgrace. He had drunk of the +cup of triumph, and had tasted the very wine of life; and at the moment +when that cup was fullest, it had been snatched away from him by the +ruthless hand of his enemy. + +Christmas came, and gave Paul Marchmont a good opportunity of playing +the country gentleman of the olden time. What was the cost of a couple +of bullocks, a few hogsheads of ale, and a waggon-load of coals, if by +such a sacrifice the master of the Towers could secure for himself the +admiration due to a public benefactor? Paul gave _carte blanche_ to the +old servants; and tents were erected on the lawn, and monstrous +bonfires blazed briskly in the frosty air; while the populace, who +would have accepted the bounties of a new Nero fresh from the burning +of a modern Rome, drank to the health of their benefactor, and warmed +themselves by the unlimited consumption of strong beer. + +Mrs. Marchmont and her invalid daughter assisted Paul in his attempt to +regain the popularity he had lost upon the steps of the western +terrace. The two women distributed square miles of flannel and +blanketing amongst greedy claimants; they gave scarlet cloaks and +poke-bonnets to old women; they gave an insipid feast, upon temperance +principles, to the children of the National Schools. And they had their +reward; for people began to say that this Paul Marchmont was a very +noble fellow, after all, by Jove, sir and that fellow Arundel must have +been in the wrong, sir; and no doubt Marchmont had his own reasons for +not resenting the outrage, sir; and a great deal more to the like +effect. + +After this roasting of the two bullocks the wind changed altogether. +Mr. Marchmont gave a great dinner-party upon New-Year's Day. He sent +out thirty invitations, and had only two refusals. So the long +dining-room was filled with all the notabilities of the district, and +Paul held his head up once more, and rejoiced in his own grandeur. +After all, one horsewhipping cannot annihilate a man with a fine estate +and eleven thousand a year, if he knows how to make a splash with his +money. + +Olivia Marchmont shared in none of the festivals that were held. Her +father was very ill this winter; and she spent a good deal of her time +at Swampington Rectory, sitting in Hubert Arundel's room, and reading +to him. But her presence brought very little comfort to the sick man; +for there was something in his daughter's manner that filled him with +inexpressible terror; and he would lie for hours together watching her +blank face, and wondering at its horrible rigidity. What was it? What +was the dreadful secret which had transformed this woman? He tormented +himself perpetually with this question, but he could imagine no answer +to it. He did not know the power which a master-passion has upon these +strong-minded women, whose minds are strong because of their +narrowness, and who are the bonden slaves of one idea. He did not know +that in a breast which holds no pure affection the master-fiend Passion +rages like an all-devouring flame, perpetually consuming its victim. He +did not know that in these violent and concentrative natures the line +that separates reason from madness is so feeble a demarcation, that +very few can perceive the hour in which it is passed. + +Olivia Marchmont had never been the most lively or delightful of +companions. The tenderness which is the common attribute of a woman's +nature had not been given to her. She ought to have been a great man. +Nature makes these mistakes now and then, and the victim expiates the +error. Hence comes such imperfect histories as that of English +Elizabeth and Swedish Christina. The fetters that had bound Olivia's +narrow life had eaten into her very soul, and cankered there. If she +could have been Edward Arundel's wife, she would have been the noblest +and truest wife that ever merged her identity into that of another, and +lived upon the refracted glory of her husband's triumphs. She would +have been a Rachel Russell, a Mrs. Hutchinson, a Lady Nithisdale, a +Madame de Lavalette. She would have been great by reason of her power +of self-abnegation; and there would have been a strange charm in the +aspect of this fierce nature attuned to harmonise with its master's +soul, all the barbaric discords melting into melody, all the harsh +combinations softening into perfect music; just as in Mr. Buckstone's +most poetic drama we are bewitched by the wild huntress sitting at the +feet of her lord, and admire her chiefly because we know that only that +one man upon all the earth could have had power to tame her. To any one +who had known Olivia's secret, there could have been no sadder +spectacle than this of her decay. The mind and body decayed together, +bound by a mysterious sympathy. All womanly roundness disappeared from +the spare figure, and Mrs. Marchmont's black dresses hung about her in +loose folds. Her long, dead, black hair was pushed away from her thin +face, and twisted into a heavy knot at the back of her head. Every +charm that she had ever possessed was gone. The oldest women generally +retain some traits of their lost beauty, some faint reflection of the +sun that has gone down, to light up the soft twilight of age, and even +glimmer through the gloom of death. But this woman's face retained no +token of the past. No empty hull, with shattered bulwarks crumbled by +the fury of fierce seas, cast on a desert shore to rot and perish +there, was ever more complete a wreck than she was. Upon her face and +figure, in every look and gesture, in the tone of every word she spoke, +there was an awful something, worse than the seal of death. Little by +little the miserable truth dawned upon Hubert Arundel. His daughter was +mad! He knew this; but he kept the dreadful knowledge hidden in his own +breast,--a hideous secret, whose weight oppressed him like an actual +burden. He kept the secret; for it would have seemed to him the most +cruel treason against his daughter to have confessed his discovery to +any living creature, unless it should be absolutely necessary to do so. +Meanwhile he set himself to watch Olivia, detaining her at the Rectory +for a week together, in order that he might see her in all moods, under +all phases. + +He found that there were no violent or outrageous evidences of this +mental decay. The mind had given way under the perpetual pressure of +one set of thoughts. Hubert Arundel, in his ignorance of his daughter's +secrets, could not discover the cause of her decadence; but that cause +was very simple. If the body is a wonderful and complex machine which +must not be tampered with, surely that still more complex machine the +mind must need careful treatment. If such and such a course of diet is +fatal to the body's health, may not some thoughts be equally fatal to +the health of the brain? may not a monotonous recurrence of the same +ideas be above all injurious? If by reason of the peculiar nature of a +man's labour, he uses one limb or one muscle more than the rest, +strange bosses rise up to testify to that ill usage, the idle limbs +wither, and the harmonious perfection of Nature gives place to +deformity. So the brain, perpetually pressed upon, for ever strained to +its utmost tension by the wearisome succession of thoughts, becomes +crooked and one-sided, always leaning one way, continually tripping up +the wretched thinker. + +John Marchmont's widow had only one set of ideas. On every subject but +that one which involved Edward Arundel and his fortunes her memory had +decayed. She asked her father the same questions--commonplace questions +relating to his own comfort, or to simple household matters, twenty +times a day, always forgetting that he had answered her. She had that +impatience as to the passage of time which is one of the most painful +signs of madness. She looked at her watch ten times an hour, and would +wander out into the cheerless garden, indifferent to the bitter +weather, in order to look at the clock in the church-steeple, under the +impression that her own watch, and her father's, and all the +time-keepers in the house, were slow. + +She was sometimes restless, taking up one occupation after another, to +throw all aside with equal impatience, and sometimes immobile for hours +together. But as she was never violent, never in any way unreasonable, +Hubert Arundel had not the heart to call science to his aid, and to +betray her secret. The thought that his daughter's malady might be +cured never entered his mind as within the range of possibility. There +was nothing to cure; no delusions to be exorcised by medical treatment; +no violent vagaries to be held in check by drugs and nostrums. The +powerful intellect had decayed; its force and clearness were gone. No +drugs that ever grew upon this earth could restore that which was lost. + +This was the conviction which kept the Rector silent. It would have +given him unutterable anguish to have told his daughter's secret to any +living being; but he would have endured that misery if she could have +been benefitted thereby. He most firmly believed that she could not, +and that her state was irremediable. + +"My poor girl!" he thought to himself; "how proud I was of her ten +years ago! I can do nothing for her; nothing except to love and cherish +her, and hide her humiliation from the world." + +But Hubert Arundel was not allowed to do even this much for the +daughter he loved; for when Olivia had been with him a little more than +a week, Paul Marchmont and his mother drove over to Swampington Rectory +one morning and carried her away with them. The Rector then saw for the +first time that his once strong-minded daughter was completely under +the dominion of these two people, and that they knew the nature of her +malady quite as well as he did. He resisted her return to the Towers; +but his resistance was useless. She submitted herself willingly to her +new friends, declaring that she was better in their house than anywhere +else. So she went back to her old suite of apartments, and her old +servant Barbara waited upon her; and she sat alone in dead John +Marchmont's study, listening to the January winds shrieking in the +quadrangle, the distant rooks calling to each other amongst the bare +branches of the poplars, the banging of the doors in the corridor, and +occasional gusts of laughter from the open door of the +dining-room,--while Paul Marchmont and his guests gave a jovial welcome +to the new year. + +While the master of the Towers re-asserted his grandeur, and made +stupendous efforts to regain the ground he had lost, Edward Arundel +wandered far away in the depths of Brittany, travelling on foot, and +making himself familiar with the simple peasants, who were ignorant of +his troubles. He had sent Mr. Morrison down to Dangerfield with the +greater part of his luggage; but he had not the heart to go back +himself--yet awhile. He was afraid of his mother's sympathy, and he +went away into the lonely Breton villages, to try and cure himself of +his great grief, before he began life again as a soldier. It was +useless for him to strive against his vocation. Nature had made him a +soldier, and nothing else; and wherever there was a good cause to be +fought for, his place was on the battle-field. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +MISS LAWFORD SPEAKS HER MIND. + + +Major Lawford and his blue-eyed daughters were not amongst those guests +who accepted Paul Marchmont's princely hospitalities. Belinda Lawford +had never heard the story of Edward's lost bride as he himself could +have told it; but she had heard an imperfect version of the sorrowful +history from Letitia, and that young lady had informed her friend of +Edward's animus against the new master of the Towers. + +"The poor dear foolish boy will insist upon thinking that Mr. Marchmont +was at the bottom of it all," she had said in a confidential chat with +Belinda, "somehow or other; but whether he was, or whether he wasn't, +I'm sure I can't say. But if one attempts to take Mr. Marchmont's part +with Edward, he does get so violent and go on so, that one's obliged to +say all sorts of dreadful things about Mary's cousin for the sake of +peace. But really, when I saw him one day in Kemberling, with a black +velvet shooting-coat, and his beautiful smooth white hair and auburn +moustache, I thought him most interesting. And so would you, Belinda, +if you weren't so wrapped up in that doleful brother of mine." + +Whereupon, of course, Miss Lawford had been compelled to declare that +she was not "wrapped up" in Edward, whatever state of feeling that +obscure phrase might signify; and to express, by the vehemence of her +denial, that, if anything, she rather detested Miss Arundel's brother. +By-the-by, did you ever know a young lady who could understand the +admiration aroused in the breast of other young ladies for that most +uninteresting object, a _brother_? Or a gentleman who could enter with +any warmth of sympathy into his friend's feelings respecting the auburn +tresses or the Grecian nose of "a sister"? Belinda Lawford, I say, knew +something of the story of Mary Arundel's death, and she implored her +father to reject all hospitalities offered by Paul Marchmont. + +"You won't go to the Towers, papa dear?" she said, with her hands +clasped upon her father's arm, her cheeks kindling, and her eyes +filling with tears as she spoke to him; "you won't go and sit at Paul +Marchmont's table, and drink his wine, and shake hands with him? I know +that he had something to do with Mary Arundel's death. He had indeed, +papa. I don't mean anything that the world calls crime; I don't mean +any act of open violence. But he was cruel to her, papa; he was cruel +to her. He tortured her and tormented her until she--" The girl paused +for a moment, and her voice faltered a little. "Oh, how I wish that I +had known her, papa," she cried presently, "that I might have stood by +her, and comforted her, all through that sad time!" + +The Major looked down at his daughter with a tender smile,--a smile +that was a little significant, perhaps, but full of love and +admiration. + +"You would have stood by Arundel's poor little wife, my dear?" he said. +"You would stand by her _now_, if she were alive, and needed your +friendship?" + +"I would indeed, papa," Miss Lawford answered resolutely. + +"I believe it, my dear; I believe it with all my heart. You are a good +girl, my Linda; you are a noble girl. You are as good as a son to me, +my dear." + +Major Lawford was silent for a few moments, holding his daughter in his +arms and pressing his lips upon her broad forehead. + +"You are fit to be a soldier's daughter, my darling," he said, "or--or +a soldier's wife." + +He kissed her once more, and then left her, sighing thoughtfully as he +went away. + +This is how it was that neither Major Lawford nor any of his family +were present at those splendid entertainments which Paul Marchmont gave +to his new friends. Mr. Marchmont knew almost as well as the Lawfords +themselves why they did not come, and the absence of them at his +glittering board made his bread bitter to him and his wine tasteless. +He wanted these people as much as the others,--more than the others, +perhaps, for they had been Edward Arundel's friends; and he wanted them +to turn their backs upon the young man, and join in the general outcry +against his violence and brutality. The absence of Major Lawford at the +lighted banquet-table tormented this modern rich man as the presence of +Mordecai at the gate tormented Haman. It was not enough that all the +others should come if these stayed away, and by their absence tacitly +testified to their contempt for the master of the Towers. + +He met Belinda sometimes on horseback with the old grey-headed groom +behind her, a fearless young amazon, breasting the January winds, with +her blue eyes sparkling, and her auburn hair blowing away from her +candid face: he met her, and looked out at her from the luxurious +barouche in which it was his pleasure to loll by his mother's side, +half-buried amongst soft furry rugs and sleek leopard-skins, making the +chilly atmosphere through which he rode odorous with the scent of +perfumed hair, and smiling over cruelly delicious criticisms in +newly-cut reviews. He looked out at this fearless girl whose friends so +obstinately stood by Edward Arundel; and the cold contempt upon Miss +Lawford's face cut him more keenly than the sharpest wind of that +bitter January. + +Then he took counsel with his womankind; not telling them his thoughts, +fears, doubts, or wishes--it was not his habit to do that--but taking +_their_ ideas, and only telling them so much as it was necessary for +them to know in order that they might be useful to him. Paul +Marchmont's life was regulated by a few rules, so simple that a child +might have learned them; indeed I regret to say that some children are +very apt pupils in that school of philosophy to which the master of +Marchmont Towers belonged, and cause astonishment to their elders by +the precocity of their intelligence. Mr. Marchmont might have inscribed +upon a very small scrap of parchment the moral maxims by which he +regulated his dealings with mankind. + +"Always conciliate," said this philosopher. "Never tell an unnecessary +lie. Be agreeable and generous to those who serve you. N.B. No good +carpenter would allow his tools to get rusty. Make yourself master of +the opinions of others, but hold your own tongue. Seek to obtain the +maximum of enjoyment with the minimum of risk." + +Such golden saws as these did Mr. Marchmont make for his own especial +guidance; and he hoped to pass smoothly onwards upon the railway of +life, riding in a first-class carriage, on the greased wheels of a very +easy conscience. As for any unfortunate fellow-travellers pitched out +of the carriage-window in the course of the journey, or left lonely and +helpless at desolate stations on the way, Providence, and not Mr. +Marchmont, was responsible for _their_ welfare. Paul had a high +appreciation of Providence, and was fond of talking--very piously, as +some people said; very impiously, as others secretly thought--about the +inestimable Wisdom which governed all the affairs of this lower world. +Nowhere, according to the artist, had the hand of Providence been more +clearly visible than in this matter about Paul's poor little cousin +Mary. If Providence had intended John Marchmont's daughter to be a +happy bride, a happy wife, the prosperous mistress of that stately +habitation, why all that sad business of old Mr. Arundel's sudden +illness, Edward's hurried journey, the railway accident, and all the +complications that had thereupon arisen? Nothing would have been easier +than for Providence to have prevented all this; and then he, Paul, +would have been still in Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square, patiently +waiting for a friendly lift upon the high-road of life. Nobody could +say that he had ever been otherwise than patient. Nobody could say that +he had ever intruded himself upon his rich cousins at the Towers, or +had been heard to speculate upon his possible inheritance of the +estate; or that he had, in short, done any thing but that which the +best, truest, most conscientious and disinterested of mankind should +do. + +In the course of that bleak, frosty January, Mr. Marchmont sent his +mother and his sister Lavinia to make a call at the Grange. The Grange +people had never called upon Mrs. Marchmont; but Paul did not allow any +flimsy ceremonial law to stand in his way when he had a purpose to +achieve. So the ladies went to the Grange, and were politely received; +for Miss Lawford and her mother were a great deal too innocent and +noble-minded to imagine that these pale-faced, delicate-looking women +could have had any part, either directly or indirectly, in that cruel +treatment which had driven Edward's young wife from her home. Mrs. +Marchmont and Mrs. Weston were kindly received, therefore; and in a +little conversation with Belinda about birds, and dahlias, and worsted +work, and the most innocent subjects imaginable, the wily Lavinia +contrived to lead up to Miss Letitia Arundel, and thence, by the +easiest conversational short-cut, to Edward and his lost wife. Mrs. +Weston was obliged to bring her cambric handkerchief out of her muff +when she talked about her cousin Mary; but she was a clever woman, and +she had taken to heart Paul's pet maxim about the folly of +_unnecessary_ lies; and she was so candid as to entirely disarm Miss +Lawford, who had a schoolgirlish notion that every kind of hypocrisy +and falsehood was outwardly visible in a servile and slavish manner. +She was not upon her guard against those practised adepts in the art of +deception, who have learnt to make that subtle admixture of truth and +falsehood which defies detection; like some fabrics in whose woof silk +and cotton are so cunningly blended that only a practised eye can +discover the inferior material. + +So when Lavinia dried her eyes and put her handkerchief back in her +muff, and said, betwixt laughing and crying,-- + +"Now you know, my dear Miss Lawford, you mustn't think that I would for +a moment pretend to be sorry that my brother has come into this +fortune. Of course any such pretence as that would be ridiculous, and +quite useless into the bargain, as it isn't likely anybody would +believe me. Paul is a dear, kind creature, the best of brothers, the +most affectionate of sons, and deserves any good fortune that could +fall to his lot; but I am truly sorry for that poor little girl. I am +truly sorry, believe me, Miss Lawford; and I only regret that Mr. +Weston and I did not come to Kemberling sooner, so that I might have +been a friend to the poor little thing; for then, you know, I might +have prevented that foolish runaway match, out of which almost all the +poor child's troubles arose. Yes, Miss Lawford; I wish I had been able +to befriend that unhappy child, although by my so doing Paul would have +been kept out of the fortune he now enjoys--for some time, at any rate. +I say for some time, because I do not believe that Mary Marchmont would +have lived to be old, under the happiest circumstances. Her mother died +very young; and her father, and her father's father, were consumptive." + +Then Mrs. Weston took occasion, incidentally of course, to allude to +her brother's goodness; but even then she was on her guard, and took +care not to say too much. + +"The worst actors are those who over-act their parts." That was another +of Paul Marchmont's golden maxims. + +"I don't know what my brother may be to the rest of the world," Lavinia +said; "but I know how good he is to those who belong to him. I should +be ashamed to tell you all he has done for Mr. Weston and me. He gave +me this cashmere shawl at the beginning of the winter, and a set of +sables fit for a duchess; though I told him they were not at all the +thing for a village surgeon's wife, who keeps only one servant, and +dusts her own best parlour." + +And Mrs. Marchmont talked of her son; with no loud enthusiasm, but with +a tone of quiet conviction that was worth any money to Paul. To have an +innocent person, some one not in the secret, to play a small part in +the comedy of his life, was a desideratum with the artist. His mother +had always been this person, this unconscious performer, instinctively +falling into the action of the play, and shedding real tears, and +smiling actual smiles,--the most useful assistant to a great schemer. + +But during the whole of the visit nothing was said as to Paul's conduct +towards his unhappy cousin; nothing was said either to praise or to +exculpate; and when Mrs. Marchmont and her daughter drove away, in one +of the new equipages which Paul had selected for his mother, they left +only a vague impression in Belinda's breast. She didn't quite know what +to think. These people were so frank and candid, they had spoken of +Paul with such real affection, that it was almost impossible to doubt +them. Paul Marchmont might be a bad man, but his mother and sister +loved him, and surely they were ignorant of his wickedness. + +Mrs. Lawford troubled herself very little about this unexpected morning +call. She was an excellent, warm-hearted, domestic creature, and +thought a great deal more about the grand question as to whether she +should have new damask curtains for the drawing-room, or send the old +ones to be dyed; or whether she should withdraw her custom from the +Kemberling grocer, whose "best black" at four-and-sixpence was really +now so very inferior; or whether Belinda's summer silk dress could be +cut down into a frock for Isabella to wear in the winter +evenings,--than about the rights or wrongs of that story of the +horsewhipping which had been administered to Mr. Marchmont. + +"I'm sure those Marchmont-Towers people seem very nice, my dear," the +lady said to Belinda; "and I really wish your papa would go and dine +there. You know I like him to dine out a good deal in the winter, +Linda; not that I want to save the housekeeping money,--only it is so +difficult to vary the side-dishes for a man who has been accustomed to +mess-dinners, and a French cook." + +But Belinda stuck fast to her colours. She was a soldier's daughter, as +her father said, and she was almost as good as a son. The Major meant +this latter remark for very high praise; for the great grief of his +life had been the want of a boy's brave face at his fireside. She was +as good as a son; that is to say, she was braver and more outspoken +than most women; although she was feminine and gentle withal, and by no +means strong-minded. She would have fainted, perhaps, at the first +sight of blood upon a battle-field; but she would have bled to death +with the calm heroism of a martyr, rather than have been false to a +noble cause. + +"I think papa is quite right not to go to Marchmont Towers, mamma," she +said; the artful minx omitted to state that it was by reason of her +entreaties her father had stayed away. "I think he is quite right. Mrs. +Marchmont and Mrs. Weston may be very nice, and of course it isn't +likely _they_ would be cruel to poor young Mrs. Arundel; but I _know_ +that Mr. Marchmont must have been unkind to that poor girl, or Mr. +Arundel would never have done what he did." + +It is in the nature of good and brave men to lay down their masculine +rights when they leave their hats in the hall, and to submit themselves +meekly to feminine government. It is only the whippersnapper, the +sneak, the coward out of doors who is a tyrant at home. See how meekly +the Conqueror of Italy went home to his charming Creole wife! See how +pleasantly the Liberator of Italy lolls in the carriage of his +golden-haired Empress, when the young trees in that fair wood beyond +the triumphal arch are green in the bright spring weather, and all the +hired vehicles in Paris are making towards the cascade! Major Lawford's +wife was too gentle, and too busy with her store-room and her domestic +cares, to tyrannise over her lord and master; but the Major was duly +henpecked by his blue-eyed daughters, and went here and there as they +dictated. + +So he stayed away from Marchmont Towers to please Belinda; and only +said, "Haw," "Yes," "'Pon my honour, now!" "Bless my soul!" when his +friends told him of the magnificence of Paul's dinners. + +But although the Major and his eldest daughter did not encounter Mr. +Marchmont in his own house, they met him sometimes on the neutral +ground of other people's dining-rooms, and upon one especial evening at +a pleasant little dinner-party given by the rector of the parish in +which the Grange was situated. + +Paul made himself particularly agreeable upon this occasion; but in the +brief interval before dinner he was absorbed in a conversation with Mr. +Davenant, the rector, upon the subject of ecclesiastical +architecture,--he knew everything, and could talk about everything, +this dear Paul,--and made no attempt to approach Miss Lawford. He only +looked at her now and then, with a furtive, oblique glance out of his +almond-shaped, pale-grey eyes; a glance that was wisely hidden by the +light auburn lashes, for it had an unpleasant resemblance to the leer +of an evil-natured sprite. Mr. Marchmont contented himself with keeping +this furtive watch upon Belinda, while she talked gaily with the +Rector's two daughters in a pleasant corner near the piano. And as the +artist took Mrs. Davenant down to the dining-room, and sat next her at +dinner, he had no opportunity of fraternising with Belinda during that +meal; for the young lady was divided from him by the whole length of +the table and, moreover, very much occupied by the exclusive attentions +of two callow-looking officers from the nearest garrison-town, who were +afflicted with extreme youth, and were painfully conscious of their +degraded state, but tried notwithstanding to carry it off with a high +hand, and affected the opinions of used-up fifty. + +Mr. Marchmont had none of his womankind with him at this dinner; for +his mother and invalid sister had neither of them felt strong enough to +come, and Mr. and Mrs. Weston had not been invited. The artist's +special object in coming to this dinner was the conquest of Miss +Belinda Lawford: she sided with Edward Arundel against him: she must be +made to believe Edward wrong, and himself right; or she might go about +spreading her opinions, and doing him mischief. Beyond that, he had +another idea about Belinda; and he looked to this dinner as likely to +afford him an opportunity of laying the foundation of a very diplomatic +scheme, in which Miss Lawford should unconsciously become his tool. He +was vexed at being placed apart from her at the dinner-table, but he +concealed his vexation; and he was aggravated by the Rector's +old-fashioned hospitality, which detained the gentlemen over their wine +for some time after the ladies left the dining-room. But the +opportunity that he wanted came nevertheless, and in a manner that he +had not anticipated. + +The two callow defenders of their country had sneaked out of the +dining-room, and rejoined the ladies in the cosy countrified +drawing-rooms. They had stolen away, these two young men; for they were +oppressed by the weight of a fearful secret. _They couldn't drink +claret!_ No; they had tried to like it; they had smacked their lips and +winked their eyes--both at once, for even winking with _one_ eye is an +accomplishment scarcely compatible with extreme youth--over vintages +that had seemed to them like a happy admixture of red ink and +green-gooseberry juice. They had perjured their boyish souls with +hideous falsehoods as to their appreciation of pale tawny port, light +dry wines, '42-ports, '45-ports, Kopke Roriz, Thompson and Croft's, and +Sandemann's; when, in the secret recesses of their minds, they affected +sweet and "slab" compounds, sold by publicans, and facetiously called +"Our prime old port, at four-and-sixpence." They were very young, these +beardless soldiers. They liked strawberry ices, and were on the verge +of insolvency from a predilection for clammy bath-buns, jam-tarts, and +cherry-brandy. They liked gorgeous waistcoats; and varnished boots in a +state of virgin brilliancy; and little bouquets in their button-holes; +and a deluge of _millefleurs_ upon their flimsy handkerchiefs. They +were very young. The men they met at dinner-parties to-day had tipped +them at Eton or Woolwich only yesterday, as it seemed, and remembered +it and despised them. It was only a few months since they had been +snubbed for calling the Douro a mountain in Switzerland, and the +Himalayas a cluster of islands in the Pacific, at horrible +examinations, in which the cold perspiration had bedewed their pallid +young cheeks. They were delighted to get away from those elderly +creatures in the Rector's dining-room to the snug little back +drawing-room, where Belinda Lawford and the two Misses Davenant were +murmuring softly in the firelight, like young turtles in a sheltered +dove-cote; while the matrons in the larger apartment sipped their +coffee, and conversed in low awful voices about the iniquities of +housemaids, and the insubordination of gardeners and grooms. + +Belinda and her two companions were very polite to the helpless young +wanderers from the dining-room; and they talked pleasantly enough of +all manner of things; until somehow or other the conversation came +round to the Marchmont-Towers scandal, and Edward's treatment of his +lost wife's kinsman. + +One of the young men had been present at the hunting-breakfast on that +bright October morning, and he was not a little proud of his superior +acquaintance with the whole business. + +"I was the-aw, Miss Lawford," he said. "I was on the tew-wace after +bweakfast,--and a vewy excellent bweakfast it was, I ass-haw you; the +still Moselle was weally admiwable, and Marchmont has some Medewa that +immeasuwably surpasses anything I can indooce my wine-merchant to send +me;--I was on the tew-wace, and I saw Awundel comin' up the steps, +awful pale, and gwasping his whip; and I was a witness of all the west +that occurred; and if I had been Marchmont I should have shot Awundel +befaw he left the pawk, if I'd had to swing for it, Miss Lawford; for I +should have felt, b'Jove, that my own sense of honaw demanded the +sacwifice. Howevaw, Marchmont seems a vewy good fella; so I suppose +it's all wight as far as he goes; but it was a bwutal business +altogethaw, and that fella Awundel must be a scoundwel." + +Belinda could not bear this. She had borne a great deal already. She +had been obliged to sit by very often, and hear Edward Arundel's +conduct discussed by Thomas, Richard, and Henry, or anybody else who +chose to talk about it; and she had been patient, and had held her +peace, with her heart bumping indignantly in her breast, and passionate +crimson blushes burning her cheeks. But she could _not_ submit to hear +a beardless, pale-faced, and rather weak-eyed young ensign--who had +never done any greater service for his Queen and country than to cry +"SHUDDRUPH!" to a detachment of raw recruits in a barrack-yard, in the +early bleakness of a winter's morning--take upon himself to blame +Edward Arundel, the brave soldier, the noble Indian hero, the devoted +lover and husband, the valiant avenger of his dead wife's wrongs. + +"I don't think you know anything of the real story, Mr. Palliser," +Belinda said boldly to the half-fledged ensign. "If you did, I'm sure +you would admire Mr. Arundel's conduct instead of blaming it. Mr. +Marchmont fully deserved the disgrace which Edward--which Mr. Arundel +inflicted upon him." + +The words were still upon her lips, when Paul Marchmont himself came +softly through the flickering firelight to the low chair upon which +Belinda sat. He came behind her, and laying his hand lightly upon the +scroll-work at the back of her chair, bent over her, and said, in a low +confidential voice,-- + +"You are a noble girl, Miss Lawford. I am sorry that you should think +ill of me: but I like you for having spoken so frankly. You are a most +noble girl. You are worthy to be your father's daughter." + +This was said with a tone of suppressed emotion; but it was quite a +random shot. Paul didn't know anything about the Major, except that he +had a comfortable income, drove a neat dog-cart, and was often seen +riding on the flat Lincolnshire roads with his eldest daughter. For all +Paul knew to the contrary, Major Lawford might have been the veriest +bully and coward who ever made those about him miserable; but Mr. +Marchmont's tone as good as expressed that he was intimately acquainted +with the old soldier's career, and had long admired and loved him. It +was one of Paul's happy inspirations, this allusion to Belinda's +father; one of those bright touches of colour laid on with a skilful +recklessness, and giving sudden brightness to the whole picture; a +little spot of vermilion dabbed upon the canvas with the point of the +palette-knife, and lighting up all the landscape with sunshine. + +"You know my father?" said Belinda, surprised. + +"Who does not know him?" cried the artist. "Do you think, Miss Lawford, +that it is necessary to sit at a man's dinner-table before you know +what he is? I know your father to be a good man and a brave soldier, as +well as I know that the Duke of Wellington is a great general, though I +never dined at Apsley House. I respect your father, Miss Lawford; and I +have been very much distressed by his evident avoidance of me and +mine." + +This was coming to the point at once. Mr. Marchmont's manner was +candour itself. Belinda looked at him with widely-opened, wondering +eyes. She was looking for the evidence of his wickedness in his face. I +think she half-expected that Mr. Marchmont would have corked eyebrows, +and a slouched hat, like a stage ruffian. She was so innocent, this +simple young Belinda, that she imagined wicked people must necessarily +look wicked. + +Paul Marchmont saw the wavering of her mind in that half-puzzled +expression, and he went on boldly. + +"I like your father, Miss Lawford," he said; "I like him, and I respect +him; and I want to know him. Other people may misunderstand me, if they +please. I can't help their opinions. The truth is generally strongest +in the end; and I can afford to wait. But I can_not_ afford to forfeit +the friendship of a man I esteem; I cannot afford to be misunderstood +by your father, Miss Lawford; and I have been very much pained--yes, +very much pained--by the manner in which the Major has repelled my +little attempts at friendliness." + +Belinda's heart smote her. She knew that it was her influence that had +kept her father away from Marchmont Towers. This young lady was very +conscientious. She was a Christian, too; and a certain sentence +touching wrongful judgments rose up against her while Mr. Marchmont was +speaking. If she had wronged this man; if Edward Arundel has been +misled by his passionate grief for Mary; if she had been deluded by +Edward's error,--how very badly Mr. Marchmont had been treated between +them! She didn't say anything, but sat looking thoughtfully at the +fire; and Paul saw that she was more and more perplexed. This was just +what the artist wanted. To talk his antagonist into a state of +intellectual fog was almost always his manner of commencing an +argument. + +Belinda was silent, and Paul seated himself in a chair close to hers. +The callow ensigns had gone into the lamp-lit front drawing-room, and +were busy turning over the leaves--and never turning them over at the +right moment--of a thundering duet which the Misses Davenant were +performing for the edification of their papa's visitors. Miss Lawford +and Mr. Marchmont were alone, therefore, in that cosy inner chamber, +and a very pretty picture they made: the rosy-cheeked girl and the +pale, sentimental-looking artist sitting side by side in the glow of +the low fire, with a background of crimson curtains and gleaming +picture-frames; winter flowers piled in grim Indian jars; the fitful +light flickering now and then upon one sharp angle of the high carved +mantelpiece, with all its litter of antique china; and the rest of the +room in sombre shadow. Paul had the field all to himself, and felt that +victory would be easy. He began to talk about Edward Arundel. + +If he had said one word against the young soldier, I think this +impetuous girl, who had not yet learned to count the cost of what she +did, would have been passionately eloquent in defence of her friend's +brother--for no other reason than that he was the brother of her +friend, of course; what other reason should she have for defending Mr. +Arundel? + +But Paul Marchmont did not give her any occasion for indignation. On +the contrary, he spoke in praise of the hot-headed young soldier who +had assaulted him, making all manner of excuses for the young man's +violence, and using that tone of calm superiority with which a man of +the world might naturally talk about a foolish boy. + +"He has been very unreasonable, Miss Lawford," Paul said by-and-by; "he +has been very unreasonable, and has most grossly insulted me. But, in +spite of all, I believe him to be a very noble young fellow, and I +cannot find it in my heart to be really angry with him. What his +particular grievance against me may be, I really do not know." + +The furtive glance from the long narrow grey eyes kept close watch upon +Belinda's face as Paul said this. Mr. Marchmont wanted to ascertain +exactly how much Belinda knew of that grievance of Edward's; but he +could see only perplexity in her face. She knew nothing definite, +therefore; she had only heard Edward talk vaguely of his wrongs. Paul +Marchmont was convinced of this; and he went on boldly now, for he felt +that the ground was all clear before him. + +"This foolish young soldier chooses to be angry with me because of a +calamity which I was as powerless to avert, as to prevent that accident +upon the South-Western Railway by which Mr. Arundel so nearly lost his +life. I cannot tell you how sincerely I regret the misconception that +has arisen in his mind. Because I have profited by the death of John +Marchmont's daughter, this impetuous young husband imagines--what? I +cannot answer that question; nor can he himself, it seems, since he has +made no definite statement of his wrongs to any living being." + +The artist looked more sharply than ever at Belinda's listening face. +There was no change in its expression; the same wondering look, the +same perplexity,--that was all. + +"When I say that I regret the young man's folly, Miss Lawford," Paul +continued, "believe me, it is chiefly on his account rather than my +own. Any insult which he can inflict upon me can only rebound upon +himself, since everybody in Lincolnshire knows that I am in the right, +and he in the wrong." + +Mr. Marchmont was going on very smoothly; but at this point Miss +Lawford, who had by no means deserted her colours, interrupted his easy +progress. + +"It remains to be proved who is right and who wrong, Mr. Marchmont," +she said. "Mr. Arundel is the brother of my friend. I cannot easily +believe him to have done wrong." + +Paul looked at her with a smile--a smile that brought hot blushes to +her face; but she returned his look without flinching. The brave girl +looked full into the narrow grey eyes sheltered under pale auburn +lashes, and her steadfast gaze did not waver. + +"Ah, Miss Lawford," said the artist, still smiling, "when a young man +is handsome, chivalrous, and generous-hearted, it is very difficult to +convince a woman that he can do wrong. Edward Arundel has done wrong. +His ultra-quixotism has made him blind to the folly of his own acts. I +can afford to forgive him. But I repeat that I regret his infatuation +about this poor lost girl far more upon his account than on my own; for +I know--at least I venture to think--that a way lies open to him of a +happier and a better life than he could ever have known with my poor +childish cousin Mary Marchmont. I have reason to know that he has +formed another attachment, and that it is only a chivalrous delusion +about that poor girl--whom he was never really in love with, and whom +he only married because of some romantic notion inspired by my cousin +John--that withholds him from that other and brighter prospect." + +He was silent for a few moments, and then he said hastily,-- + +"Pardon me, Miss Lawford; I have been betrayed into saying much that I +had better have left unsaid, more especially to you. I----" + +He hesitated a little, as if embarrassed; and then rose and looked into +the next room, where the duet had been followed by a solo. + +One of the Rector's daughters came towards the inner drawing-room, +followed by a callow ensign. + +"We want Belinda to sing," exclaimed Miss Davenant. "We want you to +sing, you tiresome Belinda, instead of hiding yourself in that dark +room all the evening." + +Belinda came out of the darkness, with her cheeks flushed and her +eyelids drooping. Her heart was beating so fast as to make it quite +impossible to speak just yet, or to sing either. But she sat down +before the piano, and, with hands that trembled in spite of herself, +began to play one of her pet sonatas. + +Unhappily, Beethoven requires precision of touch in the pianist who is +bold enough to seek to interpret him; and upon this occasion I am +compelled to admit that Miss Lawford's fingering was eccentric, not to +say ridiculous,--in common parlance, she made a mess of it; and just as +she was going to break down, friendly Clara Davenant cried out,-- + +"That won't do, Belinda! We want you to sing, not to play. You are +trying to cheat us. We would rather have one of Moore's melodies than +all Beethoven's sonatas." + +So Miss Lawford, still blushing, with her eyelids still drooping, +played Sir John Stevenson's simple symphony, and in a fresh swelling +voice, that filled the room with melody, began: + + "Oh, the days are gone when beauty bright + My heart's chain wove; + When my dream of life, from morn till night, + Was love, still love!" + +And Paul Marchmont, sitting at the other end of the room turning over +Miss Davenant's scrap-book, looked up through his auburn lashes, and +smiled at the beaming face of the singer. He felt that he had improved +the occasion. + +"I am not afraid of Miss Lawford now," he thought to himself. + +This candid, fervent girl was only another piece in the schemer's game +of chess; and he saw a way of making her useful in the attainment of +that great end which, in the strange simplicity of cunning, he believed +to be the one purpose of _every_ man's life,--Self-Aggrandisement. + +It never for a moment entered into his mind that Edward Arundel was any +more _real_ than he was himself. There can be no perfect comprehension +where there is no sympathy. Paul believed that Edward had tried to +become master of Mary Marchmont's heritage; and had failed; and was +angry because of his failure. He believed this passionate young man to +be a schemer like himself; only a little more impetuous and blundering +in his manner of going to work. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE RETURN OF THE WANDERER. + + +The March winds were blowing amongst the oaks in Dangerfield Park, when +Edward Arundel went back to the house which had never been his home +since his boyhood. He went back because he had grown weary of lonely +wanderings in that strange Breton country. He had grown weary of +himself and of his own thoughts. He was worn out by the eager desire +that devoured him by day and by night,--the passionate yearning to be +far away beyond that low Eastern horizon line; away amid the carnage +and riot of an Indian battle-field. + +So he went back at last to his mother, who had written to him again and +again, imploring him to return to her, and to rest, and to be happy in +the familiar household where he was beloved. He left his luggage at the +little inn where the coach that had brought him from Exeter stopped, +and then he walked quietly homewards in the gloaming. The early spring +evening was bleak and chill. The blacksmith's fire roared at him as he +went by the smithy. All the lights in the queer latticed windows +twinkled and blinked at him, as if in friendly welcome to the wanderer. +He remembered them all: the quaint, misshapen, lopsided roofs; the +tumble-down chimneys; the low doorways, that had sunk down below the +level of the village street, until all the front parlours became +cellars, and strange pedestrians butted their heads against the +flower-pots in the bedroom windows; the withered iron frame and pitiful +oil-lamp hung out at the corner of the street, and making a faint spot +of feeble light upon the rugged pavement; mysterious little shops in +diamond-paned parlour windows, where Dutch dolls and stationery, stale +gingerbread and pickled cabbage, were mixed up with wooden pegtops, +squares of yellow soap, rickety paper kites, green apples, and string; +they were all familiar to him. + +It had been a fine thing once to come into this village with Letitia, +and buy stale gingerbread and rickety kites of a snuffy old pensioner +of his mother's. The kites had always stuck in the upper branches of +the oaks, and the gingerbread had invariably choked him; but with the +memory of the kites and gingerbread came back all the freshness of his +youth, and he looked with a pensive tenderness at the homely little +shops, the merchandise flickering in the red firelight, that filled +each quaint interior with a genial glow of warmth and colour. + +He passed unquestioned by a wicket at the side of the great gates. The +firelight was rosy in the windows of the lodge, and he heard a woman's +voice singing a monotonous song to a sleepy child. Everywhere in this +pleasant England there seemed to be the glow of cottage-fires, and +friendliness, and love, and home. The young man sighed as he remembered +that great stone mansion far away in dismal Lincolnshire, and thought +how happy he might have been in this bleak spring twilight, if he could +have sat by Mary Marchmont's side in the western drawing-room, watching +the firelight and the shadows trembling on her fair young face. + +It never had been; and it never was to be. The happiness of a home; the +sweet sense of ownership; the delight of dispensing pleasure to others; +all the simple domestic joys which make life beautiful,--had never been +known to John Marchmont's daughter, since that early time in which she +shared her father's lodging in Oakley Street, and went out in the cold +December morning to buy rolls for Edward Arundel's breakfast. From the +bay-window of his mother's favourite sitting-room the same red light +that he had seen in every lattice in the village streamed out upon the +growing darkness of the lawn. There was a half-glass door leading into +a little lobby near this sitting-room. Edward Arundel opened it and +went in, very quietly. He expected to find his mother and his sister in +the room with the bay-window. + +The door of this familiar apartment was ajar; he pushed it open, and +went in. It was a very pretty room, and all the womanly litter of open +books and music, needlework and drawing materials, made it homelike. +The firelight flickered upon everything--on the pictures and +picture-frames, the black oak paneling, the open piano, a cluster of +snowdrops in a tall glass on the table, the scattered worsteds by the +embroidery-frame, the sleepy dogs upon the hearth-rug. A young lady +stood in the bay-window with her back to the fire. Edward Arundel crept +softly up to her, and put his arm round her waist. + +"Letty!" + +It was not Letitia, but a young lady with very blue eyes, who blushed +scarlet, and turned upon the young man rather fiercely; and then +recognising him, dropped into the nearest chair and began to tremble +and grow pale. + +"I am sorry I startled you, Miss Lawford," Edward said, gently; "I +really thought you were my sister. I did not even know that you were +here." + +"No, of course not. I--you didn't startle me much, Mr. Arundel; only +you were not expected home. I thought you were far away in Brittany. I +had no idea that there was any chance of your returning. I thought you +meant to be away all the summer--Mrs. Arundel told me so." + +Belinda Lawford said all this in that fresh girlish voice which was +familiar to Mr. Arundel; but she was still very pale, and she still +trembled a little, and there was something almost apologetic in the way +in which she assured Edward that she had believed he would be abroad +throughout the summer. It seemed almost as if she had said: "I did not +come here because I thought I should see you. I had no thought or hope +of meeting you." + +But Edward Arundel was not a coxcomb, and he was very slow to +understand any such signs as these. He saw that he had startled the +young lady, and that she had turned pale and trembled as she recognised +him; and he looked at her with a half-wondering, half-pensive +expression in his face. + +She blushed as he looked at her. She went to the table and began to +gather together the silks and worsteds, as if the arrangement of her +workbasket were a matter of vital importance, to be achieved at any +sacrifice of politeness. Then, suddenly remembering that she ought to +say something to Mr. Arundel, she gave evidence of the originality of +her intellect by the following remark: + +"How surprised Mrs. Arundel and Letitia will be to see you!" + +Even as she said this her eyes were still bent upon the skeins of +worsted in her hand. + +"Yes; I think they will be surprised. I did not mean to come home until +the autumn. But I got so tired of wandering about a strange country +alone. Where are they--my mother and Letitia?" + +"They have gone down the village, to the school. They will be back to +tea. Your brother is away; and we dine at three o'clock, and drink tea +at eight. It is so much pleasanter than dining late." + +This was quite an effort of genius; and Miss Lawford went on sorting +the skeins of worsted in the firelight. Edward Arundel had been +standing all this time with his hat in his hand, almost as if he had +been a visitor making a late morning call upon Belinda; but he put his +hat down now, and seated himself near the table by which the young lady +stood, busy with the arrangement of her workbasket. + +Her heart was beating very fast, and she was straining her arithmetical +powers to the uttermost, in the endeavour to make a very abstruse +calculation as to the time in which Mrs. Arundel and Letitia could walk +to the village schoolhouse and back to Dangerfield, and the delay that +might arise by reason of sundry interruptions from obsequious gaffers +and respectful goodies, eager for a word of friendly salutation from +their patroness. + +The arrangement of the workbasket could not last for ever. It had +become the most pitiful pretence by the time Miss Lawford shut down the +wicker lid, and seated herself primly in a low chair by the fireplace. +She sat looking down at the fire, and twisting a slender gold chain in +and out between her smooth white fingers. She looked very pretty in +that fitful firelight, with her waving brown hair pushed off her +forehead, and her white eyelids hiding the tender blue eyes. She sat +twisting the chain in her fingers, and dared not lift her eyes to Mr. +Arundel's face; and if there had been a whole flock of geese in the +room, she could not have said "Bo!" to one of them. + +And yet she was not a stupid girl. Her father could have indignantly +refuted any such slander as that against the azure-eyed Hebe who made +his home pleasant to him. To the Major's mind Belinda was all that man +could desire in the woman of his choice, whether as daughter or wife. +She was the bright genius of the old man's home, and he loved her with +that chivalrous devotion which is common to brave soldiers, who are the +simplest and gentlest of men when you chain them to their firesides, +and keep them away from the din of the camp and the confusion of the +transport-ship. + +Belinda Lawford was clever; but only just clever enough to be charming. +I don't think she could have got through "Paradise Lost," or Gibbon's +"Decline and Fall," or a volume by Adam Smith or McCulloch, though you +had promised her a diamond necklace when she came conscientiously to +"Finis." But she could read Shakespeare for the hour together, and did +read him aloud to her father in a fresh, clear voice, that was like +music on the water. And she read Macaulay's "History of England," with +eyes that kindled with indignation against cowardly, obstinate James, +or melted with pity for poor weak foolish Monmouth, as the case might +be. She could play Mendelssohn and Beethoven,--plaintive sonatas; +tender songs, that had no need of words to expound the mystic meaning +of the music. She could sing old ballads and Irish melodies, that +thrilled the souls of those who heard her, and made hard men pitiful to +brazen Hibernian beggars in the London streets for the memory of that +pensive music. She could read the leaders in the "Times," with no false +quantities in the Latin quotations, and knew what she was reading +about; and had her favourites at St. Stephen's; and adored Lord +Palmerston, and was liberal to the core of her tender young heart. She +was as brave as a true Englishwoman should be, and would have gone to +the wars with her old father, and served him as his page; or would have +followed him into captivity, and tended him in prison, if she had lived +in the days when there was such work for a high-spirited girl to do. + +But she sat opposite Mr. Edward Arundel, and twisted her chain round +her fingers, and listened for the footsteps of the returning mistress +of the house. She was like a bashful schoolgirl who has danced with an +officer at her first ball. And yet amidst her shy confusion, her fears +that she should seem agitated and embarrassed, her struggles to appear +at her ease, there was a sort of pleasure in being seated there by the +low fire with Edward Arundel opposite to her. There was a strange +pleasure, an almost painful pleasure, mingled with her feelings in +those quiet moments. She was acutely conscious of every sound that +broke the stillness--the sighing of the wind in the wide chimney; the +falling of the cinders on the hearth; the occasional snort of one of +the sleeping dogs; and the beating of her own restless heart. And +though she dared not lift her eyelids to the young soldier's face, that +handsome, earnest countenance, with the chestnut hair lit up with +gleams of gold, the firm lips shaded by a brown moustache, the pensive +smile, the broad white forehead, the dark-blue handkerchief tied +loosely under a white collar, the careless grey travelling-dress, even +the attitude of the hand and arm, the bent head drooping a little over +the fire,--were as present to her inner sight as if her eyes had kept +watch all this time, and had never wavered in their steady gaze. + +There is a second-sight that is not recognised by grave professors of +magic--a second-sight which common people call Love. + +But by-and-by Edward began to talk, and then Miss Lawford found +courage, and took heart to question him about his wanderings in +Brittany. She had only been a few weeks in Devonshire, she said. Her +thoughts went back to the dreary autumn in Lincolnshire as she spoke; +and she remembered the dull October day upon which her father had come +into the girl's morning-room at the Grange with Edward's farewell +letter in his hand. She remembered this, and all the talk that there +had been about the horsewhipping of Mr. Paul Marchmont upon his own +threshold. She remembered all the warm discussions, the speculations, +the ignorant conjectures, the praise, the blame; and how it had been +her business to sit by and listen and hold her peace, except upon that +one never-to-be-forgotten night at the Rectory, when Paul Marchmont had +hinted at something whose perfect meaning she had never dared to +imagine, but which had, somehow or other, mingled vaguely with all her +day-dreams ever since. + +Was there any truth in that which Paul Marchmont had said to her? Was +it true that Edward Arundel had never really loved his young bride? + +Letitia had said as much, not once, but twenty times. + +"It's quite ridiculous to suppose that he could have ever been in love +with the poor, dear, sickly thing," Miss Arundel had exclaimed; "it was +only the absurd romance of the business that captivated him; for Edward +is really ridiculously romantic, and her father having been a +supernumer--(it's no use, I don't think anybody ever did know how many +syllables there are in that word)--and having lived in Oakley Street, +and having written a pitiful letter to Edward, about this motherless +daughter and all that sort of thing, just like one of those tiresome +old novels with a baby left at a cottage-door, and all the _s's_ +looking like _f's_, and the last word of one page repeated at the top +of the next page, and printed upon thick yellow-looking ribbed paper, +you know. _That_ was why my brother married Miss Marchmont, you may +depend upon it, Linda; and all I hope is, that he'll be sensible enough +to marry again soon, and to have a Christianlike wedding, with +carriages, and a breakfast, and two clergymen; and _I_ should wear +white glace silk, with tulle puffings, and a tulle bonnet (I suppose I +must wear a bonnet, being only a bridesmaid?), all showered over with +clematis, as if I'd stood under a clematis-bush when the wind was +blowing, you know, Linda." + +With such discourse as this Miss Arundel had frequently entertained her +friend; and she had indulged in numerous inuendoes of an embarrassing +nature as to the propriety of old friends and schoolfellows being +united by the endearing tie of sister-in-lawhood, and other +observations to the like effect. + +Belinda knew that if Edward ever came to love her,--whenever she did +venture to speculate upon such a chance, she never dared to come at all +near it, but thought of it as a thing that might come to pass in half a +century or so--if he should choose her for his second wife, she knew +that she would be gladly and tenderly welcomed at Dangerfield. Mrs. +Arundel had hinted as much as this. Belinda knew how anxiously that +loving mother hoped that her son might, by-and-by, form new ties, and +cease to lead a purposeless life, wasting his brightest years in +lamentations for his lost bride: she knew all this; and sitting +opposite to the young man in the firelight, there was a dull pain at +her heart; for there was something in the soldier's sombre face that +told her he had not yet ceased to lament that irrevocable past. + +But Mrs. Arundel and Letitia came in presently, and gave utterance to +loud rejoicings; and preparations were made for the physical comfort of +the wanderer,--bells were rung, lighted wax-candles and a glittering +tea-service were brought in, a cloth was laid, and cold meats and other +comestibles spread forth, with that profusion which has made the west +country as proverbial as the north for its hospitality. I think Miss +Lawford would have sat opposite the traveller for a week without asking +any such commonplace question as to whether Mr. Arundel required +refreshment. She had read in her Hort's "Pantheon" that the gods +sometimes ate and drank like ordinary mortals; yet it had never entered +into her mind that Edward could be hungry. But she now had the +satisfaction of seeing Mr. Arundel eat a very good dinner; while she +herself poured out the tea, to oblige Letitia, who was in the middle of +the third volume of a new novel, and went on reading it as coolly as if +there had been no such person as that handsome young soldier in the +world. + +"The books must go back to the club to-morrow morning, you know, mamma +dear, or I wouldn't read at tea-time," the young lady remarked +apologetically. "I want to know whether _he'll_ marry Theodora or that +nasty Miss St. Ledger. Linda thinks he'll marry Miss St. Ledger, and be +miserable, and Theodora will die. I believe Linda likes love-stories to +end unhappily. I don't. I hope if he _does_ marry Miss St. Ledger--and +he'll be a wicked wretch if he does, after the _things_ he has said to +Theodora--I hope, if he does, she'll die--catch cold at a _dejeuner_ at +Twickenham, or something of that kind, you know; and then he'll marry +Theodora afterwards, and all will end happily. Do you know, Linda, I +always fancy that you're like Theodora, and that Edward's like _him_." + +After which speech Miss Arundel went back to her book, and Edward +helped himself to a slice of tongue rather awkwardly, and Belinda +Lawford, who had her hand upon the urn, suffered the teapot to overflow +amongst the cups and saucers. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +A WIDOWER'S PROPOSAL. + + +For some time after his return Edward Arundel was very restless and +gloomy: roaming about the country by himself, under the influence of a +pretended passion for pedestrianism; reading hard for the first time in +his life, shutting himself in his dead father's library, and sitting +hour after hour in a great easy-chair, reading the histories of all the +wars that have ever ravaged this earth--from the days in which the +elephants of a Carthaginian ruler trampled upon the soldiery of Rome, +to the era of that Corsican barrister's wonderful son, who came out of +his simple island home to conquer the civilised half of a world. + +Edward Arundel showed himself a very indifferent brother; for, do what +she would, Letitia could not induce him to join in any of her pursuits. +She caused a butt to be set up upon the lawn; but all she could say +about Belinda's "best gold" could not bring the young man out upon the +grass to watch the two girls shooting. He looked at them by stealth +sometimes through the window of the library, and sighed as he thought +of the blight upon his manhood, and of all the things that might have +been. + +Might not these things even yet come to pass? Had he not done his duty +to the dead; and was he not free now to begin a fresh life? His mother +was perpetually hinting at some bright prospect that lay smiling before +him, if he chose to take the blossom-bestrewn path that led to that +fair country. His sister told him still more plainly of a prize that +was within his reach, if he were but brave enough to stretch out his +hand and claim the precious treasure for his own. But when he thought +of all this,--when he pondered whether it would not be wise to drop the +dense curtain of forgetfulness over that sad picture of the +past,--whether it would not be well to let the dead bury their dead, +and to accept that other blessing which the same Providence that had +blighted his first hope seemed to offer to him now,--the shadowy +phantom of John Marchmont arose out of the mystic realms of the dead, +and a ghostly voice cried to him, "I charged you with my daughter's +safe keeping; I trusted you with her innocent love; I gave you the +custody of her helplessness. What have you done to show yourself worthy +of my faith in you?" + +These thoughts tormented the young widower perpetually, and deprived +him of all pleasure in the congenial society of his sister and Belinda +Lawford; or infused so sharp a flavour of remorse into his cup of +enjoyment, that pleasure was akin to pain. + +So I don't know how it was that, in the dusky twilight of a bright day +in early May, nearly two months after his return to Dangerfield, Edward +Arundel, coming by chance upon Miss Lawford as she sat alone in the +deep bay-window where he had found her on his first coming, confessed +to her the terrible struggle of feeling that made the great trouble of +his life, and asked her if she was willing to accept a love which, in +its warmest fervour, was not quite unclouded by the shadows of the +sorrowful past. + +"I love you dearly, Linda," he said; "I love, I esteem, I admire you; +and I know that it is in your power to give me the happiest future that +ever a man imagined in his youngest, brightest dreams. But if you do +accept my love, dear, you must take my memory with it. I cannot forget, +Linda. I have tried to forget. I have prayed that God, in His mercy, +might give me forgetfulness of that irrevocable past. But the prayer +has never been granted; the boon has never been bestowed. I think that +love for the living and remorse for the dead must for ever reign side +by side in my heart. It is no falsehood to you that makes me remember +her; it is no forgetfulness of her that makes me love you. I offer my +brighter and happier self to you, Belinda; I consecrate my sorrow and +my tears to her. I love you with all my heart, Belinda; but even for +the sake of your love I will not pretend that I can forget her. If John +Marchmont's daughter had died with her head upon my breast, and a +prayer on her lips, I might have regretted her as other men regret +their wives; and I might have learned by-and-by to look back upon my +grief with only a tender and natural regret, that would have left my +future life unclouded. But it can never be so. The poison of remorse is +blended with that sorrowful memory. If I had done otherwise,--if I had +been wiser and more thoughtful,--my darling need never have suffered; +my darling need never have sinned. It is the thought that her death may +have been a sinful one, that is most cruel to me, Belinda. I have seen +her pray, with her pale earnest face uplifted, and the light of faith +shining in her gentle eyes; I have seen the inspiration of God upon her +face; and I cannot bear to think that, in the darkness that came down +upon her young life, that holy light was quenched; I cannot bear to +think that Heaven was ever deaf to the pitiful cry of my innocent +lamb." + +And here Mr. Arundel paused, and sat silently, looking out at the long +shadows of the trees upon the darkening lawn; and I fear that, for the +time being, he forgot that he had just made Miss Lawford an offer of +his hand, and so much of his heart as a widower may be supposed to have +at his disposal. + +Ah me! we can only live and die _once_. There are some things, and +those the most beautiful of all things, that can never be renewed: the +bloom on a butterfly's wing; the morning dew upon a newly-blown rose; +our first view of the ocean; our first pantomime, when all the fairies +were fairies for ever, and when the imprudent consumption of the +contents of a pewter quart-measure in sight of the stage-box could not +disenchant us with that elfin creature, Harlequin the graceful, +faithful betrothed of Columbine the fair. The firstlings of life are +most precious. When the black wing of the angel of death swept over +agonised Egypt, and the children were smitten, offended Heaven, eager +for a sacrifice, took the firstborn. The young mothers would have other +children, perhaps; but between those others and the mother's love there +would be the pale shadow of that lost darling whose tiny hands _first_ +drew undreamed-of melodies from the sleeping chords, _first_ evoked the +slumbering spirit of maternal love. Amongst the later lines--the most +passionate, the most sorrowful--that George Gordon Noel Byron wrote, +are some brief verses that breathed a lament for the lost freshness, +the never-to-be-recovered youth. + + "Oh, could I feel as I have felt; or be what I have been; + Or weep as I could once have wept!" + +cried the poet, when he complained of that "mortal coldness of the +soul," which is "like death itself." It is a pity certainly that so +great a man should die in the prime of life; but if Byron had survived +to old age after writing these lines, he would have been a living +anticlimax. When a man writes that sort of poetry he pledges himself to +die young. + +Edward Arundel had grown to love Belinda Lawford unconsciously, and in +spite of himself; but the first love of his heart, the first fruit of +his youth, had perished. He could not feel quite the same devotion, the +same boyish chivalry, that he had felt for the innocent bride who had +wandered beside him in the sheltered meadows near Winchester. He might +begin a _new_ life, but he could not live the _old_ life over again. He +must wear his rue with a difference this time. But he loved Belinda +very dearly, nevertheless; and he told her so, and by-and-by won from +her a tearful avowal of affection. + +Alas! she had no power to question the manner of his wooing. He loved +her--he had said as much; and all the good she had desired in this +universe became hers from the moment of Edward Arundel's utterance of +those words. He loved her; that was enough. That he should cherish a +remorseful sorrow for that lost wife, made him only the truer, nobler, +and dearer in Belinda's sight. She was not vain, or exacting, or +selfish. It was not in her nature to begrudge poor dead Mary the tender +thoughts of her husband. She was generous, impulsive, believing; and +she had no more inclination to doubt Edward's love for her, after he +had once avowed such a sentiment, than to disbelieve in the light of +heaven when she saw the sun shining. Unquestioning, and unutterably +happy, she received her lover's betrothal kiss, and went with him to +his mother, blushing and trembling, to receive that lady's blessing. + +"Ah, if you knew how I have prayed for this, Linda!" Mrs. Arundel +exclaimed, as she folded the girl's slight figure in her arms. + +"And I shall wear white glace with pinked flounces, instead of tulle +puffings, you sly Linda," cried Letitia. + +"And I'll give Ted the home-farm, and the white house to live in, if he +likes to try his hand at the new system of farming," said Reginald +Arundel, who had come home from the Continent, and had amused himself +for the last week by strolling about his estate and staring at his +timber, and almost wishing that there was a necessity for cutting down +all the oaks in the avenue, so that he might have something to occupy +him until the 12th of August. + +Never was promised bride more welcome to a household than bright +Belinda Lawford; and as for the young lady herself, I must confess that +she was almost childishly happy, and that it was all that she could do +to prevent her light step from falling into a dance as she floated +hither and thither through the house at Dangerfield,--a fresh young +Hebe in crisp muslin robes; a gentle goddess, with smiles upon her face +and happiness in her heart. + +"I loved you from the first, Edward," she whispered one day to her +lover. "I knew that you were good, and brave, and noble; and I loved +you because of that." + +And a little for the golden glimmer in his clustering curls; and a +little for his handsome profile, his flashing eyes, and that +distinguished air peculiar to the defenders of their country; more +especially peculiar, perhaps, to those who ride on horseback when they +sally forth to defend her. Once a soldier for ever a soldier, I think. +You may rob the noble warrior of his uniform, if you will; but the _je +ne sais quoi_, the nameless air of the "long-sword, saddle, bridle," +will hang round him still. + +Mrs. Arundel and Letitia took matters quite out of the hands of the two +lovers. The elderly lady fixed the wedding-day, by agreement with Major +Lawford, and sketched out the route for the wedding-tour. The younger +lady chose the fabrics for the dresses of the bride and her attendants; +and all was done before Edward and Belinda well knew what their friends +were about. I think that Mrs. Arundel feared her son might change his +mind if matters were not brought swiftly to a climax, and that she +hurried on the irrevocable day in order that he might have no breathing +time until the vows had been spoken and Belinda Lawford was his wedded +wife. It had been arranged that Edward should escort Belinda back to +Lincolnshire, and that his mother and Letitia, who was to be chief +bridesmaid, should go with them. The marriage was to be solemnised at +Hillingsworth church, which was within a mile and a half of the Grange. + +The 1st of July was the day appointed by agreement between Major and +Mrs. Lawford and Mrs. Arundel; and on the 18th of June Edward was to +accompany his mother, Letitia, and Belinda to London. They were to +break the journey by stopping in town for a few days, in order to make +a great many purchases necessary for Miss Lawford's wedding +paraphernalia, for which the Major had sent a bouncing cheque to his +favourite daughter. + +And all this time the only person at all unsettled, the only person +whose mind was ill at ease, was Edward Arundel, the young widower who +was about to take to himself a second wife. His mother, who watched him +with a maternal comprehension of every change in his face, saw this, +and trembled for her son's happiness. + +"And yet he cannot be otherwise than happy with Belinda Lawford," Mrs. +Arundel thought to herself. + +But upon the eve of that journey to London Edward sat alone with his +mother in the drawing-room at Dangerfield, after the two younger ladies +had retired for the night. They slept in adjoining apartments, these +two young ladies; and I regret to say that a great deal of their +conversation was about Valenciennes lace, and flounces cut upon the +cross, moire antique, mull muslin, glace silk, and the last "sweet +thing" in bonnets. It was only when loquacious Letitia was shut out +that Miss Lawford knelt alone in the still moonlight, and prayed that +she might be a good wife to the man who had chosen her. I don't think +she ever prayed that she might be faithful and true and pure; for it +never entered into her mind that any creature bearing the sacred name +of wife could be otherwise. She only prayed for the mysterious power to +preserve her husband's affection, and make his life happy. + +Mrs. Arundel, sitting _tete-a-tete_ with her younger son in the +lamp-lit drawing-room, was startled by hearing the young man breathe a +deep sigh. She looked up from her work to see a sadder expression in +his face than perhaps ever clouded the countenance of an expectant +bridegroom. + +"Edward!" she exclaimed. + +"What, mother?" + +"How heavily you sighed just now!" + +"Did I?" said Mr. Arundel, abstractedly. Then, after a brief pause, he +said, in a different tone, "It is no use trying to hide these things +from you, mother. The truth is, I am not happy." + +"Not happy, Edward!" cried Mrs. Arundel; "but surely you----?" + +"I know what you are going to say, mother. Yes, mother, I love this +dear girl Linda with all my heart; I love her most sincerely; and I +could look forward to a life of unalloyed happiness with her, if--if +there was not some inexplicable dread, some vague and most miserable +feeling always coming between me and my hopes. I have tried to look +forward to the future, mother; I have tried to think of what my life +may be with Belinda; but I cannot, I cannot. I cannot look forward; all +is dark to me. I try to build up a bright palace, and an unknown hand +shatters it. I try to turn away from the memory of my old sorrows; but +the same hand plucks me back, and chains me to the past. If I could +retract what I have done; if I could, with any show of honour, draw +back, even now, and not go upon this journey to Lincolnshire; if I +_could_ break my faith to this poor girl who loves me, and whom I love, +as God knows, with all truth and earnestness, I would do so--I would do +so." + +"Edward!" + +"Yes, mother; I would do it. It is not in me to forget. My dead wife +haunts me by night and day. I hear her voice crying to me, 'False, +false, false; cruel and false; heartless and forgetful!' There is never +a night that I do not dream of that dark sluggish river down in +Lincolnshire. There is never a dream that I have--however purposeless, +however inconsistent in all its other details--in which I do not see +_her_ dead face looking up at me through the murky waters. Even when I +am talking to Linda, when words of love for her are on my lips, my mind +wanders away, back--always back--to the sunset by the boat-house, when +my little wife gave me her hand; to the trout-stream in the meadow, +where we sat side by side and talked about the future." + +For a few minutes Mrs. Arundel was quite silent. She abandoned herself +for that brief interval to complete despair. It was all over. The +bridegroom would cry off; insulted Major Lawford would come post-haste +to Dangerfield, to annihilate this dismal widower, who did not know his +own mind. All the shimmering fabrics--the gauzes, and laces, and silks, +and velvets--that were in course of preparation in the upper chambers +would become so much useless finery, to be hidden in out-of-the-way +cupboards, and devoured by misanthropical moths,--insect iconoclasts, +who take a delight in destroying the decorations of the human temple. + +Poor Mrs. Arundel took a mental photograph of all the complicated +horrors of the situation. An offended father; a gentle, loving girl +crushed like some broken lily; gossip, slander; misery of all kinds. +And then the lady plucked up courage and gave her recreant son a sound +lecture, to the effect that this conduct was atrociously wicked; and +that if this trusting young bride, this fair young second wife, were to +be taken away from him as the first had been, such a calamity would +only be a fitting judgment upon him for his folly. + +But Edward told his mother, very quietly, that he had no intention of +being false to his newly-plighted troth. + +"I love Belinda," he said; "and I will be true to her, mother. But I +cannot forget the past; it hangs about me like a bad dream." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +HOW THE TIDINGS WERE RECEIVED IN LINCOLNSHIRE. + + +The young widower made no further lamentation, but did his duty to his +betrothed bride with a cheerful visage. Ah! what a pleasant journey it +was to Belinda, that progress through London on the way to +Lincolnshire! It was like that triumphant journey of last March, when +the Royal bridegroom led his Northern bride through a surging sea of +eager, smiling faces, to the musical jangling of a thousand bells. If +there were neither populace nor joy-bells on this occasion, I scarcely +think Miss Lawford knew that those elements of a triumphal progress +were missing. To her ears all the universe was musical with the sound +of mystic joy-bells; all the earth was glad with the brightness of +happy faces. The railway-carriage,--the commonplace vehicle,--frouzy +with the odour of wool and morocco, was a fairy chariot, more wonderful +than Queen Mab's; the white chalk-cutting in the hill was a shining +cleft in a mountain of silver; the wandering streams were melted +diamonds; the stations were enchanted castles. The pale sherry, carried +in a pocket-flask, and sipped out of a little silver tumbler--there is +apt to be a warm flatness about sherry taken out of pocket-flasks that +is scarcely agreeable to the connoisseur--was like nectar newly brewed +for the gods; even the anchovies in the sandwiches were like the +enchanted fish in the Arabian story. A magical philter had been infused +into the atmosphere: the flavour of first love was in every sight and +sound. + +Was ever bridegroom more indulgent, more devoted, than Edward Arundel? +He sat at the counters of silk-mercers for the hour together, while +Mrs. Arundel and the two girls deliberated over crisp fabrics unfolded +for their inspection. He was always ready to be consulted, and gave his +opinion upon the conflicting merits of peach-colour and pink, +apple-green and maize, with unwearying attention. But sometimes, even +while Belinda was smiling at him, with the rippling silken stuff held +up in her white hands, and making a lustrous cascade upon the counter, +the mystic hand plucked him back, and his mind wandered away to that +childish bride who had chosen no splendid garments for her wedding, but +had gone with him to the altar as trustfully as a baby goes in its +mother's arms to the cradle. If he had been left alone with Belinda, +with tender, sympathetic Belinda,--who loved him well enough to +understand him, and was always ready to take her cue from his face, and +to be joyous or thoughtful according to his mood,--it might have been +better for him. But his mother and Letitia reigned paramount during +this ante-nuptial week, and Mr. Arundel was scarcely suffered to take +breath. He was hustled hither and thither in the hot summer noontide. +He was taken to choose a dressing-case for his bride; and he was made +to look at glittering objects until his eyes ached, and he could see +nothing but a bewildering dazzle of ormolu and silver-gilt. He was +taken to a great emporium in Bond Street to select perfumery, and made +to sniff at divers essences until his nostrils were unnaturally +distended, and his olfactory nerves afflicted with temporary paralysis. +There was jewellery of his mother and of Belinda's mother to be re-set; +and the hymeneal victim was compelled to sit for an hour or so, +blinking at fiery-crested serpents that were destined to coil up his +wife's arms, and emerald padlocks that were to lie upon her breast. And +then, when his soul was weary of glaring splendours and glittering +confusions, they took him round the Park, in a whirlpool of diaphanous +bonnets, and smiling faces, and brazen harness, and emblazoned +hammer-cloths, on the margin of a river whose waters were like molten +gold under the blazing sun. And then they gave him a seat in an +opera-box, and the crash of a monster orchestra, blended with the hum +of a thousand voices, to soothe his nerves withal. + +But the more wearied this young man became with glitter, and dazzle, +and sunshine, and silk-mercer's ware, the more surely his mind wandered +back to the still meadows, and the limpid trout-stream, the sheltering +hills, the solemn shadows of the cathedral, the distant voices of the +rooks high up in the waving elms. + +The bustle of preparation was over at last, and the bridal party went +down to Lincolnshire. Pleasant chambers had been prepared at the Grange +for Mr. Arundel and his mother and sister; and the bridegroom was +received with enthusiasm by Belinda's blue-eyed younger sisters, who +were enchanted to find that there was going to be a wedding and that +they were to have new frocks. + +So Edward would have been a churl indeed had he seemed otherwise than +happy, had he been anything but devoted to the bright girl who loved +him. + +Tidings of the coming wedding flew like wildfire through Lincolnshire. +Edward Arundel's romantic story had elevated him into a hero; all +manner of reports had been circulated about his devotion to his lost +young wife. He had sworn never to mingle in society again, people said. +He had sworn never to have a new suit of clothes, or to have his hair +cut, or to shave, or to eat a hot dinner. And Lincolnshire by no means +approved of the defection implied by his approaching union with +Belinda. He was only a commonplace widower, after all, it seemed; ready +to be consoled as soon as the ceremonious interval of decent grief was +over. People had expected something better of him. They had expected to +see him in a year or two with long grey hair, dressed in shabby +raiment, and, with his beard upon his breast, prowling about the +village of Kemberling, baited by little children. Lincolnshire was very +much disappointed by the turn that affairs had taken. Shakesperian +aphorisms were current among the gossips at comfortable tea-tables; and +people talked about funeral baked meats, and the propriety of building +churches if you have any ambitious desire that your memory should +outlast your life; and indulged in other bitter observations, familiar +to all admirers of the great dramatist. + +But there were some people in Lincolnshire to whom the news of Edward +Arundel's intended marriage was more welcome than the early May-flowers +to rustic children eager for a festival. Paul Marchmont heard the +report, and rubbed his hands stealthily, and smiled to himself as he +sat reading in the sunny western drawing-room. The good seed that he +had sown that night at the Rectory had borne this welcome fruit. Edward +Arundel with a young wife would be very much less formidable than +Edward Arundel single and discontented, prowling about the +neighbourhood of Marchmont Towers, and perpetually threatening +vengeance upon Mary's cousin. + +It was busy little Lavinia Weston who first brought her brother the +tidings. He took both her hands in his, and kissed them in his +enthusiasm. + +"My best of sisters," he said, "you shall have a pair of diamond +earrings for this." + +"For only bringing you the news, Paul?" + +"For only bringing me the news. When a messenger carries the tidings of +a great victory to his king, the king makes him a knight upon the spot. +This marriage is a victory to me, Lavinia. From to-day I shall breathe +freely." + +"But they are not married yet. Something may happen, perhaps, to +prevent----" + +"What should happen?" asked Paul, rather sharply. "By-the-bye, it will +be as well to keep this from Mrs. John," he added, thoughtfully; +"though really now I fancy it matters very little what she hears." + +He tapped his forehead lightly with his two slim fingers, and there was +a horrible significance in the action. + +"She is not likely to hear anything," Mrs. Weston said; "she sees no +one but Barbara Simmons." + +"Then I should be glad if you would give Simmons a hint to hold her +tongue. This news about the wedding would disturb her mistress." + +"Yes, I'll tell her so. Barbara is a very excellent person. I can +always manage Barbara. But oh, Paul, I don't know what I'm to do with +that poor weak-witted husband of mine." + +"How do you mean?" + +"Oh, Paul, I have had such a scene with him to-day--such a scene! You +remember the way he went on that day down in the boat-house when Edward +Arundel came in upon us unexpectedly? Well, he's been going on as badly +as that to-day, Paul,--or worse, I really think." + +Mr. Marchmont frowned, and flung aside his newspaper, with a gesture +expressive of considerable vexation. + +"Now really, Lavinia, this is too bad," he said; "if your husband is a +fool, I am not going to be bored about his folly. You have managed him +for fifteen years: surely you can go on managing him now without +annoying _me_ about him? If Mr. George Weston doesn't know when he's +well off, he's an ungrateful cur, and you may tell him so, with my +compliments." + +He picked up his newspaper again, and began to read. But Lavinia +Weston, looking anxiously at her brother's face, saw that his pale +auburn brows were contracted in a thoughtful frown, and that, if he +read at all, the words upon which his eyes rested could convey very +little meaning to his brain. + +She was right; for presently he spoke to her, still looking at the page +before him, and with an attempt at carelessness. + +"Do you think that fellow would go to Australia, Lavinia?" + +"Alone?" asked his sister. + +"Yes, alone of course," said Mr. Marchmont, putting down his paper, and +looking at Mrs. Weston rather dubiously. "I don't want you to go to the +Antipodes; but if--if the fellow refused to go without you, I'd make it +well worth your while to go out there, Lavinia. You shouldn't have any +reason to regret obliging me, my dear girl." + +The dear girl looked rather sharply at her affectionate brother. + +"It's like your selfishness, Paul, to propose such a thing," she said, +"after all I've done----!" + +"I have not been illiberal to you, Lavinia." + +"No; you've been generous enough to me, I know, in the matter of gifts; +but you're rich, Paul, and you can afford to give. I don't like the +idea that you're so willing to pack me out of the way now that I can be +no longer useful to you." + +Mr. Marchmont shrugged his shoulders. + +"For Heaven's sake, Lavinia, don't be sentimental. If there's one thing +I despise more than another, it is this kind of mawkish sentimentality. +You've been a very good sister to me; and I've been a very decent +brother to you. If you have served me, I have made it answer your +purpose to do so. I don't want you to go away. You may bring all your +goods and chattels to this house to-morrow, if you like, and live at +free quarters here for the rest of your existence. But if George Weston +is a pig-headed brute, who can't understand upon which side his bread +is buttered, he must be got out of the way somehow. I don't care what +it costs me; but he must be got out of the way. I'm not going to live +the life of a modern Damocles, with a blundering sword always dangling +over my head, in the person of Mr. George Weston. And if the man +objects to leave the country without you, why, I think your going with +him would be only a sisterly act towards me. I hate selfishness, +Lavinia, almost as much as I detest sentimentality." + +Mrs. Weston was silent for some minutes, absorbed in reflection. Paul +got up, kicked aside a footstool, and walked up and down the room with +his hands in his pockets. + +"Perhaps I might get George to leave England, if I promised to join him +as soon as he was comfortably settled in the colonies," Mrs. Weston +said, at last. + +"Yes," cried Paul; "nothing could be more easy. I'll act very liberally +towards him, Lavinia; I'll treat him well; but he shall not stay in +England. No, Lavinia; after what you have told me to-day, I feel that +he must be got out of the country." + +Mr. Marchmont went to the door and looked out, to see if by chance any +one had been listening to him. The coast was quite clear. The +stone-paved hall looked as desolate as some undiscovered chamber in an +Egyptian temple. The artist went back to Lavinia, and seated himself by +her side. For some time the brother and sister talked together +earnestly. + +They settled everything for poor henpecked George Weston. He was to +sail for Sydney immediately. Nothing could be more easy than for +Lavinia to declare that her brother had accidentally heard of some +grand opening for a medical practitioner in the metropolis of the +Antipodes. The surgeon was to have a very handsome sum given him, and +Lavinia would _of course_ join him as soon as he was settled. Paul +Marchmont even looked through the "Shipping Gazette" in search of an +Australian vessel which should speedily convey his brother-in-law to a +distant shore. + +Lavinia Weston went home armed with all necessary credentials. She was +to promise almost anything to her husband, provided that he gave his +consent to an early departure. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +MR. WESTON REFUSES TO BE TRAMPLED UPON. + + +Upon the 31st of June, the eve of Edward Arundel's wedding-day, Olivia +Marchmont sat in her own room,--the room that she had chiefly occupied +ever since her husband's death,--the study looking out into the +quadrangle. She sat alone in that dismal chamber, dimly lighted by a +pair of wax-candles, in tall tarnished silver candlesticks. There could +be no greater contrast than that between this desolate woman and the +master of the house. All about him was bright and fresh, and glittering +and splendid; around her there was only ruin and decay, thickening dust +and gathering cobwebs,--outward evidences of an inner wreck. John +Marchmont's widow was of no importance in that household. The servants +did not care to trouble themselves about her whims or wishes, nor to +put her rooms in order. They no longer curtseyed to her when they met +her, wandering--with a purposeless step and listless feet that dragged +along the ground--up and down the corridor, or out in the dreary +quadrangle. What was to be gained by any show of respect to her, whose +brain was too weak to hold the memory of their conduct for five minutes +together? + +Barbara Simmons only was faithful to her mistress with an unvarying +fidelity. She made no boast of her devotion; she expected neither fee +nor reward for her self-abnegation. That rigid religion of discipline +which had not been strong enough to preserve Olivia's stormy soul from +danger and ruin was at least all-sufficient for this lower type of +woman. Barbara Simmons had been taught to do her duty, and she did it +without question or complaint. As she went through rain, snow, hail, or +sunshine twice every Sunday to Kemberling church,--as she sat upon a +cushionless seat in an uncomfortable angle of the servants' pew, with +the sharp edges of the woodwork cutting her thin shoulders, to listen +patiently to dull rambling sermons upon the hardest texts of St. +Paul,--so she attended upon her mistress, submitting to every caprice, +putting up with every hardship; because it was her duty so to do. The +only relief she allowed herself was an hour's gossip now and then in +the housekeeper's room; but she never alluded to her mistress's +infirmities, nor would it have been safe for any other servant to have +spoken lightly of Mrs. John Marchmont in stern Barbara's presence. + +Upon this summer evening, when happy people were still lingering +amongst the wild flowers in shady lanes, or in the dusky pathways by +the quiet river, Olivia sat alone, staring at the candles. + +Was there anything in her mind; or was she only a human automaton, +slowly decaying into dust? There was no speculation in those large +lustreless eyes, fixed upon the dim light of the candles. But, for all +that, the mind was not a blank. The pictures of the past, for ever +changing like the scenes in some magic panorama, revolved before her. +She had no memory of that which had happened a quarter of an hour ago; +but she could remember every word that Edward Arundel had said to her +in the Rectory-garden at Swampington,--every intonation of the voice in +which those words had been spoken. + +There was a tea-service on the table: an attenuated little silver +teapot; a lopsided cream-jug, with thin worn edges and one dumpy little +foot missing; and an antique dragon china cup and saucer with the +gilding washed off. That meal, which is generally called social, has +but a dismal aspect when it is only prepared for one. The solitary +teacup, half filled with cold, stagnant tea, with a leaf or two +floating upon the top, like weeds on the surface of a tideless pond; +the teaspoon, thrown askew across a little pool of spilt milk in the +tea-tray,--looked as dreary as the ruins of a deserted city. + +In the western drawing-room Paul was strolling backwards and forwards, +talking to his mother and sisters, and admiring his pictures. He had +spent a great deal of money upon art since taking possession of the +Towers, and the western drawing-room was quite a different place to +what it had been in John Marchmont's lifetime. + +Etty's divinities smiled through hazy draperies, more transparent than +the summer vapours that float before the moon. Pearly-complexioned +nymphs, with faces archly peeping round the corner of soft rosy +shoulders, frolicked amidst the silver spray of classic fountains. +Turner's Grecian temples glimmered through sultry summer mists; while +glimpses of ocean sparkled here and there, and were as beautiful as if +the artist's brush had been dipped in melted opals. Stanfield's breezy +beaches made cool spots of freshness on the wall, and sturdy +sailor-boys, with their hands up to their mouths and their loose hair +blowing in the wind, shouted to their comrades upon the decks of +brown-sailed fishing-smacks. Panting deer upon dizzy crags, amid the +misty Highlands, testified to the hand of Landseer. Low down, in the +corners of the room, there lurked quaint cottage-scenes by Faed and +Nichol. Ward's patched and powdered beaux and beauties,--a Rochester, +in a light perriwig; a Nell Gwynne, showing her white teeth across a +basket of oranges; a group of _Incroyables_, with bunches of ribbons +hanging from their low topboots, and two sets of dangling seals at +their waists--made a blaze of colour upon the walls: and amongst all +these glories of to-day there were prim Madonnas and stiff-necked +angels by Raphael and Tintoretto; a brown-faced grinning boy by Murillo +(no collection ever was complete without that inevitable brown-faced +boy); an obese Venus, by the great Peter Paul; and a pale Charles the +First, with martyrdom foreshadowed in his pensive face, by Vandyke. + +Paul Marchmont contemplated his treasures complacently, as he strolled +about the room, with his coffee-cup in his hand; while his mother +watched him admiringly from her comfortable cushioned nest at one end +of a luxurious sofa. + +"Well, mother," Mr. Marchmont said presently, "let people say what they +may of me, they can never say that I have used my money badly. When I +am dead and gone, these pictures will remain to speak for me; posterity +will say, 'At any rate the fellow was a man of taste.' Now what, in +Heaven's name, could that miserable little Mary have done with eleven +thousand a year, if--if she had lived to enjoy it?" + + * * * * * + +The minute-hand of the little clock in Mrs. John Marchmont's study was +creeping slowly towards the quarter before eleven, when Olivia was +aroused suddenly from that long reverie, in which the images of the +past had shone upon her across the dull stagnation of the present like +the domes and minarets in a Phantasm City gleaming athwart the barren +desert-sands. + +She was aroused by a cautious tap upon the outside of her window. She +got up, opened the window, and looked out. The night was dark and +starless, and there was a faint whisper of wind among the trees. + +"Don't be frightened," whispered a timid voice; "it's only me, George +Weston. I want to talk to you, Mrs. John. I've got something particular +to tell you--awful particular; but _they_ mustn't hear it; _they_ +mustn't know I'm here. I came round this way on purpose. You can let me +in at the little door in the lobby, can't you, Mrs. John? I tell you, I +must tell you what I've got to tell you," cried Mr. Weston, indifferent +to tautology in his excitement. "Do let me in, there's a dear good +soul. The little door in the lobby, you know; it's locked, you know, +but I dessay the key's there." + +"The door in the lobby?" repeated Olivia, in a dreamy voice. + +"Yes, _you_ know. Do let me in now, that's a good creature. It's awful +particular, I tell you. It's about Edward Arundel." + +Edward Arundel! The sound of that name seemed to act upon the woman's +shattered nerves like a stroke of electricity. The drooping head reared +itself erect. The eyes, so lustreless before, flashed fire from their +sombre depths. Comprehension, animation, energy returned; as suddenly +as if the wand of an enchanter had summoned the dead back to life. + +"Edward Arundel!" she cried, in a clear voice, which was utterly unlike +the dull deadness of her usual tones. + +"Hush," whispered Mr. Weston; "don't speak loud, for goodness gracious +sake. I dessay there's all manner of spies about. Let me in, and I'll +tell you everything." + +"Yes, yes; I'll let you in. The door by the lobby--I understand; come, +come." + +Olivia disappeared from the window. The lobby of which the surgeon had +spoken was close to her own apartment. She found the key in the lock of +the door. The place was dark; she opened the door almost noiselessly, +and Mr. Weston crept in on tiptoe. He followed Olivia into the study, +closed the door behind him, and drew a long breath. + +"I've got in," he said; "and now I am in, wild horses shouldn't hold me +from speaking my mind, much less Paul Marchmont." + +He turned the key in the door as he spoke, and even as he did so +glanced rather suspiciously towards the window. To his mind the very +atmosphere of that house was pervaded by the presence of his +brother-in-law. + +"O Mrs. John!" exclaimed the surgeon, in piteous accents, "the way that +I've been trampled upon. _You've_ been trampled upon, Mrs. John, but +you don't seem to mind it; and perhaps it's better to bring oneself to +that, if one can; but I can't. I've tried to bring myself to it; I've +even taken to drinking, Mrs. John, much as it goes against me; and I've +tried to drown my feelings as a man in rum-and-water. But the more +spirits I consume, Mrs. John, the more of a man I feel." + +Mr. Weston struck the top of his hat with his clenched fist, and stared +fiercely at Olivia, breathing very hard, and breathing rum-and-water +with a faint odour of lemon-peel. + +"Edward Arundel!--what about Edward Arundel?" said Olivia, in a low +eager voice. + +"I'm coming to that, Mrs. John, in due c'course," returned Mr. Weston, +with an air of dignity that was superior even to hiccough. "What I say, +Mrs. John," he added, in a confidential and argumentative tone, "is +this: _I won't be trampled upon!_" Here his voice sank to an awful +whisper. "Of course it's pleasant enough to have one's rent provided +for, and not to be kept awake by poor's-rates, Mrs. John; but, good +gracious me! I'd rather have the Queen's taxes and the poor-rates +following me up day and night, and a man in possession to provide for +at every meal--and you don't know how contemptuous a man in possession +can look at you if you offer him salt butter, or your table in a +general way don't meet his views--than the conscience I've had since +Paul Marchmont came into Lincolnshire. I feel, Mrs. John, as if I'd +committed oceans of murders. It's a miracle to me that my hair hasn't +turned white before this; and it would have done it, Mrs. J., if it +wasn't of that stubborn nature which is too wiry to give expression to +a man's sufferings. O Mrs. John, when I think how my pangs of +conscience have been made game of,--when I remember the insulting names +I have been called, because my heart didn't happen to be made of +adamant,--my blood boils; it boils, Mrs. John, to that degree, that I +feel the time has come for action. I have been put upon until the +spirit of manliness within me blazes up like a fiery furnace. I have +been trodden upon, Mrs. John; but I'm not the worm they took me for. +To-day they've put the finisher upon it." The surgeon paused to take +breath. His mild and rather sheep-like countenance was flushed; his +fluffy eyebrows twitched convulsively in his endeavours to give +expression to the violence of his feelings. "To-day they've put the +finisher upon it," he repeated. "I'm to go to Australia, am I? Ha! ha! +we'll see about that. There's a nice opening in the medical line, is +there? and dear Paul will provide the funds to start me! Ha! ha! two +can play at that game. It's all brotherly kindness, of course, and +friendly interest in my welfare--that's what it's _called_, Mrs. J. +Shall I tell you what it _is_? I'm to be got rid of, at any price, for +fear my conscience should get the better of me, and I should speak. +I've been made a tool of, and I've been trampled upon; but they've been +_obliged_ to trust me. I've got a conscience, and I don't suit their +views. If I hadn't got a conscience, I might stop here and have my rent +and taxes provided for, and riot in rum-and-water to the end of my +days. But I've a conscience that all the pineapple rum in Jamaica +wouldn't drown, and they're frightened of me." + +Olivia listened to all this with an impatient frown upon her face. I +doubt if she knew the meaning of Mr. Weston's complaints. She had been +listening only for the one name that had power to transform her from a +breathing automaton into a living, thinking, reasoning woman. She +grasped the surgeon's wrist fiercely. + +"You told me you came here to speak about Edward Arundel," she said. +"Have you been only trying to make a fool of me." + +"No, Mrs. John; I have come to speak about him, and I come to you, +because I think you're not so bad as Paul Marchmont. I think that +you've been a tool, like myself; and they've led you on, step by step, +from bad to worse, pretty much as they have led me. You're Edward +Arundel's blood-relation, and it's your business to look to any wrong +that's done him, more than it is mine. But if you don't speak, Mrs. +John, I will. Edward Arundel is going to be married." + +"Going to be married!" The words burst from Olivia's lips in a kind of +shriek, and she stood glaring hideously at the surgeon, with her lips +apart and her eyes dilated. Mr. Weston was fascinated by the horror of +that gaze, and stared at her in silence for some moments. "You are a +madman!" she exclaimed, after a pause; "you are a madman! Why do you +come here with your idiotic fancies? Surely my life is miserable enough +without this!" + +"I ain't mad, Mrs. John, any more than"--Mr. Weston was going to say, +"than you are;" but it struck him that, under existing circumstances, +the comparison might be ill-advised--"I ain't any madder than other +people," he said, presently. "Edward Arundel is going to be married. I +have seen the young lady in Kemberling with her pa; and she's a very +sweet young woman to look at; and her name is Belinda Lawford; and the +wedding is to be at eleven o'clock to-morrow morning at Hillingsworth +church." + +Olivia slowly lifted her hands to her head, and swept the loose hair +away from her brow. All the mists that had obscured her brain melted +slowly away, and showed her the past as it had really been in all its +naked horror. Yes; step by step the cruel hand had urged her on from +bad to worse; from bad to worse; until it had driven her _here_. + +It was for _this_ that she had sold her soul to the powers of hell. It +was for _this_ that she had helped to torture that innocent girl whom a +dying father had given into her pitiless hand. For this! for this! To +find at last that all her iniquity had been wasted, and that Edward +Arundel had chosen another bride--fairer, perhaps, than the first. The +mad, unholy jealousy of her nature awoke from the obscurity of mental +decay, a fierce ungovernable spirit. But another spirit arose in the +next moment. CONSCIENCE, which so long had slumbered, awoke and cried +to her, in an awful voice, "Sinner, whose sin has been wasted, repent! +restore! It is not yet too late." + +The stern precepts of her religion came back to her. She had rebelled +against those rigid laws, she had cast off those iron fetters, only to +fall into a worse bondage; only to submit to a stronger tyranny. She +had been a servant of the God of Sacrifice, and had rebelled when an +offering was demanded of her. She had cast off the yoke of her Master, +and had yielded herself up the slave of sin. And now, when she +discovered whither her chains had dragged her, she was seized with a +sudden panic, and wanted to go back to her old master. + +She stood for some minutes with her open palms pressed upon her +forehead, and her chest heaving as if a stormy sea had raged in her +bosom. + +"This marriage must not take place," she cried, at last. + +"Of course it mustn't," answered Mr. Weston; "didn't I say so just now? +And if you don't speak to Paul and prevent it, I will. I'd rather you +spoke to him, though," added the surgeon thoughtfully, "because, you +see, it would come better from you, wouldn't it now?" + +Olivia Marchmont did not answer. Her hands had dropped from her head, +and she was standing looking at the floor. + +"There shall be no marriage," she muttered, with a wild laugh. "There's +another heart to be broken--that's all. Stand aside, man," she cried; +"stand aside, and let me go to _him_; let me go to him." + +She pushed the terrified surgeon out of her pathway, and locked the +door, hurried along the passage and across the hall. She opened the +door of the western drawing-room, and went in. + +Mr. Weston stood in the corridor looking after her. He waited for a few +minutes, listening for any sound that might come from the western +drawing-room. But the wide stone hall was between him and that +apartment; and however loudly the voices might have been uplifted, no +breath of them could have reached the surgeon's ear. He waited for +about five minutes, and then crept into the lobby and let himself out +into the quadrangle. + +"At any rate, nobody can say that I'm a coward," he thought +complacently, as he went under a stone archway that led into the park. +"But what a whirlwind that woman is! O my gracious, what a perfect +whirlwind she is!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +"GOING TO BE MARRIED!" + + +Paul Marchmont was still strolling hither and thither about the room, +admiring his pictures, and smiling to himself at the recollection of +the easy manner in which he had obtained George Weston's consent to the +Australian arrangement. For in his sober moments the surgeon was ready +to submit to anything his wife and brother-in-law imposed upon him; it +was only under the influence of pineapple rum that his manhood asserted +itself. Paul was still contemplating his pictures when Olivia burst +into the room; but Mrs. Marchmont and her invalid daughter had retired +for the night, and the artist was alone,--alone with his own thoughts, +which were rather of a triumphal and agreeable character just now; for +Edward's marriage and Mr. Weston's departure were equally pleasant to +him. + +He was startled a little by Olivia's abrupt entrance, for it was not +her habit to intrude upon him or any member of that household; on the +contrary, she had shown an obstinate determination to shut herself up +in her own room, and to avoid every living creature except her servant +Barbara Simmons. + +Paul turned and confronted her very deliberately, and with the smile +that was almost habitual to him upon his thin pale lips. Her sudden +appearance had blanched his face a little; but beyond this he betrayed +no sign of agitation. + +"My dear Mrs. Marchmont, you quite startle me. It is so very unusual to +see you here, and at this hour especially." + +It did not seem as if she had heard his voice. She went sternly up to +him, with her thin listless arms hanging at her side, and her haggard +eyes fixed upon his face. + +"Is this true?" she asked. + +He started a little, in spite of himself; for he understood in a moment +what she meant. Some one, it scarcely mattered who, had told her of the +coming marriage. + +"Is what true, my dear Mrs. John?" he said carelessly. + +"Is this true that George Weston tells me?" she cried, laying her thin +hand upon his shoulder. Her wasted fingers closed involuntarily upon +the collar of his coat, her lips contracted into a ghastly smile, and a +sudden fire kindled in her eyes. A strange sensation awoke in the tips +of those tightening fingers, and thrilled through every vein of the +woman's body,--such a horrible thrill as vibrates along the nerves of a +monomaniac, when the sight of a dreadful terror in his victim's face +first arouses the murderous impulse in his breast. + +Paul's face whitened as he felt the thin finger-points tightening upon +his neck. He was afraid of Olivia. + +"My dear Mrs. John, what is it you want of me?" he said hastily. "Pray +do not be violent." + +"I am not violent." + +She dropped her hand from his breast. It was true, she was not violent. +Her voice was low; her hand fell loosely by her side. But Paul was +frightened of her, nevertheless; for he saw that if she was not +violent, she was something worse--she was dangerous. + +"Did George Weston tell me the truth just now?" she said. + +Paul bit his nether-lip savagely. George Weston had tricked him, then, +after all, and had communicated with this woman. But what of that? She +would scarcely be likely to trouble herself about this business of +Edward Arundel's marriage. She must be past any such folly as that. She +would not dare to interfere in the matter. She could not. + +"Is it true?" she said; "_is_ it? Is it true that Edward Arundel is +going to be married to-morrow?" + +She waited, looking with fixed, widely-opened eyes at Paul's face. + +"My dear Mrs. John, you take me so completely by surprise, that I----" + +"That you have not got a lying answer ready for me," said Olivia, +interrupting him. "You need not trouble yourself to invent one. I see +that George Weston told me the truth. There was reality in his words. +There is nothing but falsehood in yours." + +Paul stood looking at her, but not listening to her. Let her abuse and +upbraid him to her heart's content; it gave him leisure to reflect, and +plan his course of action; and perhaps these bitter words might exhaust +the fire within her, and leave her malleable to his skilful hands once +more. He had time to think this, and to settle his own line of conduct +while Olivia was speaking to him. It was useless to deny the marriage. +She had heard of it from George Weston, and she might hear of it from +any one else whom she chose to interrogate. It was useless to try to +stifle this fact. + +"Yes, Mrs. John," he said, "it is quite true. Your cousin, Mr. Arundel, +is going to marry Belinda Lawford; a very lucky thing for us, believe +me, as it will put an end to all questioning and watching and +suspicion, and place us beyond all danger." + +Olivia looked at him, with her bosom heaving, her breath growing +shorter and louder with every word he spoke. + +"You mean to let this be, then?" she said, when he had finished +speaking. + +"To let what be?" + +"This marriage. You will let it take place?" + +"Most certainly. Why should I prevent it?" + +"Why should you prevent it?" she cried fiercely; and then, in an +altered voice, in tones of anguish that were like a wail of despair, +she exclaimed, "O my God! my God! what a dupe I have been; what a +miserable tool in this man's hands! O my offended God! why didst Thou +so abandon me, when I turned away from Thee, and made Edward Arundel +the idol of my wicked heart?" + +Paul sank into the nearest chair, with a faint sigh of relief. + +"She will wear herself out," he thought, "and then I shall be able to +do what I like with her." + +But Olivia turned to him again while he was thinking this. + +"Do you imagine that _I_ will let this marriage take place?" she asked. + +"I do not think that you will be so mad as to prevent it. That little +mystery which you and I have arranged between us is not exactly child's +play, Mrs. John. We can neither of us afford to betray the other. Let +Edward Arundel marry, and work for his wife, and be happy; nothing +could be better for us than his marriage. Indeed, we have every reason +to be thankful to Providence for the turn that affairs have taken," Mr. +Marchmont concluded, piously. + +"Indeed!" said Olivia; "and Edward Arundel is to have another bride. He +is to be happy with another wife; and I am to hear of their happiness, +to see him some day, perhaps, sitting by her side and smiling at her, +as I have seen him smile at Mary Marchmont. He is to be happy, and I am +to know of his happiness. Another baby-faced girl is to glory in the +knowledge of his love; and I am to be quiet--I am to be quiet. Is it +for this that I have sold my soul to you, Paul Marchmont? Is it for +this I have shared your guilty secrets? Is it for this I have heard +_her_ feeble wailing sounding in my wretched feverish slumbers, as I +have heard it every night, since the day she left this house? Do you +remember what you said to me? Do you remember _how_ you tempted me? Do +you remember how you played upon my misery, and traded on the tortures +of my jealous heart? 'He has despised your love,' you said: 'will you +consent to see him happy with another woman?' That was your argument, +Paul Marchmont. You allied yourself with the devil that held possession +of my breast, and together you were too strong for me. I was set apart +to be damned, and you were the chosen instrument of my damnation. You +bought my soul, Paul Marchmont. You shall not cheat me of the price for +which I sold it. You shall hinder this marriage!" + +"You are a madwoman, Mrs. John Marchmont, or you would not propose any +such thing." + +"Go," she said, pointing to the door; "go to Edward Arundel, and do +something, no matter what, to prevent this marriage." + +"I shall do nothing of the kind." + +He had heard that a monomaniac was always to be subdued by indomitable +resolution, and he looked at Olivia, thinking to tame her by his +unfaltering glance. He might as well have tried to look the raging sea +into calmness. + +"I am not a fool, Mrs. John Marchmont," he said, "and I shall do +nothing of the kind." + +He had risen, and stood by the lamp-lit table, trifling rather +nervously with its elegant litter of delicately-bound books, +jewel-handled paper-knives, newly-cut periodicals, and pretty +fantastical toys collected by the women of the household. + +The faces of the two were nearly upon a level as they stood opposite to +each other, with only the table between them. + +"Then _I_ will prevent it!" Olivia cried, turning towards the door. + +Paul Marchmont saw the resolution stamped upon her face. She would do +what she threatened. He ran to the door and had his hand upon the lock +before she could reach it. + +"No, Mrs. John," he said, standing at the door, with his back turned to +Olivia, and his fingers busy with the bolts and key. In spite of +himself, this woman had made him a little nervous, and it was as much +as he could do to find the handle of the key. "No, no, my dear Mrs. +John; you shall not leave this house, nor this room, in your present +state of mind. If you choose to be violent and unmanageable, we will +give you the full benefit of your violence, and we will give you a +better sphere of action. A padded room will be more suitable to your +present temper, my dear madam. If you favour us with this sort of +conduct, we will find people more fitted to restrain you." + +He said all this in a sneering tone that had a trifling tremulousness +in it, while he locked the door and assured himself that it was safely +secured. Then he turned, prepared to fight out the battle somehow or +other. + +At the very moment of his turning there was a sudden crash, a shiver of +broken glass, and the cold night-wind blew into the room. One of the +long French windows was wide open, and Olivia Marchmont was gone. + +He was out upon the terrace in the next moment; but even then he was +too late, for he could not see her right or left of him upon the long +stone platform. There were three separate flights of steps, three +different paths, widely diverging across the broad grassy flat before +Marchmont Towers. How could he tell which of these ways Olivia might +have chosen? There was the great porch, and there were all manner of +stone abutments along the grim facade of the house. She might have +concealed herself behind any one of them. The night was hopelessly +dark. A pair of ponderous bronze lamps, which Paul had placed before +the principal doorway, only made two spots of light in the gloom. He +ran along the terrace, looking into every nook and corner which might +have served as a hiding-place; but he did not find Olivia. + +She had left the house with the avowed intention of doing something to +prevent the marriage. What would she do? What course would this +desperate woman take in her jealous rage? Would she go straight to +Edward Arundel and tell him----? + +Yes, this was most likely; for how else could she hope to prevent the +marriage? + +Paul stood quite still upon the terrace for a few minutes, thinking. +There was only one course for him. To try and find Olivia would be next +to hopeless. There were half-a-dozen outlets from the park. There were +ever so many different pathways through the woody labyrinth at the back +of the Towers. This woman might have taken any one of them. To waste +the night in searching for her would be worse than useless. + +There was only one thing to be done. He must countercheck this +desperate creature's movements. + +He went back to the drawing-room, shut the window, and then rang the +bell. + +There were not many of the old servants who had waited upon John +Marchmont at the Towers now. The man who answered the bell was a person +whom Paul had brought down from London. + +"Get the chesnut saddled for me, Peterson," said Mr. Marchmont. "My +poor cousin's widow has left the house, and I am going after her. She +has given me very great alarm to-night by her conduct. I tell you this +in confidence; but you can say as much to Mrs. Simmons, who knows more +about her mistress than I do. See that there's no time lost in saddling +the chesnut. I want to overtake this unhappy woman, if I can. Go and +give the order, and then bring me my hat." + +The man went away to obey his master. Paul walked to the chimneypiece +and looked at the clock. + +"They'll be gone to bed at the Grange," he thought to himself. "Will +she go there and knock them up, I wonder? Does she know that Edward's +there? I doubt that; and yet Weston may have told her. At any rate, I +can be there before her. It would take her a long time to get there on +foot. I think I did the right thing in saying what I said to Peterson. +I must have the report of her madness spread everywhere. I must face it +out. But how--but how? So long as she was quiet, I could manage +everything. But with her against me, and George Weston--oh, the cur, +the white-hearted villain, after all that I've done for him and +Lavinia! But what can a man expect when he's obliged to put his trust +in a fool?" + +He went to the window, and stood there looking out until he saw the +groom coming along the gravel roadway below the terrace, leading a +horse by the bridle. Then he put on the hat that the servant had +brought him, ran down the steps, and got into the saddle. + +"All right, Jeffreys," he said; "tell them not to expect me back till +to-morrow morning. Let Mrs. Simmons sit up for her mistress. Mrs. John +may return at any hour in the night." + +He galloped away along the smooth carriage-drive. At the lodge he +stopped to inquire if any one had been through that way. No, the woman +said; she had opened the gates for no one. Paul had expected no other +answer. There was a footpath that led to a little wicket-gate opening +on the high-road; and of course Olivia had chosen that way, which was a +good deal shorter than the carriage-drive. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE TURNING OF THE TIDE. + + +It was past two o'clock in the morning of the day which had been +appointed for Edward Arundel's wedding, when Paul Marchmont drew rein +before the white gate that divided Major Lawford's garden from the +high-road. There was no lodge, no pretence of grandeur here. An +old-fashioned garden surrounded an old-fashioned red-brick house. There +was an apple-orchard upon one side of the low white gate, and a +flower-garden, with a lawn and fish-pond, upon the other. The +carriage-drive wound sharply round to a shallow flight of steps, and a +broad door with a narrow window upon each side of it. + +Paul got off his horse at the gate, and went in, leading the animal by +the bridle. He was a Cockney, heart and soul, and had no sense of any +enjoyments that were not of a Cockney nature. So the horse he had +selected for himself was anything but a fiery creature. He liked plenty +of bone and very little blood in the steed he rode, and was contented +to go at a comfortable, jog-trot, seven-miles-an-hour pace, along the +wretched country roads. + +There was a row of old-fashioned wooden posts, with iron chains +swinging between them, upon both sides of the doorway. Paul fastened +the horse's bridle to one of these, and went up the steps. He rang a +bell that went clanging and jangling through the house in the stillness +of the summer night. All the way along the road he had looked right and +left, expecting to pass Olivia; but he had seen no sign of her. This +was nothing, however; for there were byways by which she might come +from Marchmont Towers to Lawford Grange. + +"I must be before her, at any rate," Paul thought to himself, as he +waited patiently for an answer to his summons. + +The time seemed very long to him, of course; but at last he saw a light +glimmering through the mansion windows, and heard a shuffling foot in +the hall. Then the door was opened very cautiously, and a woman's +scared face peered out at Mr. Marchmont through the opening. + +"What is it?" the woman asked, in a frightened voice. + +"It is I, Mr. Marchmont, of Marchmont Towers. Your master knows me. Mr. +Arundel is here, is he not?" + +"Yes, and Mrs. Arundel too; but they're all abed." + +"Never mind that; I must see Major Lawford immediately." + +"But they're all abed." + +"Never mind that, my good woman; I tell you I must see him." + +"But won't to-morrow mornin' do? It's near three o'clock, and +to-morrow's our eldest miss's weddin'-day; and they're all abed." + +"I _must_ see your master. For mercy's sake, my good woman, do what I +tell you! Go and call up Major Lawford,--you can do it quietly,--and +tell him I must speak to him at once." + +The woman, with the chain of the door still between her and Mr. +Marchmont, took a timid survey of Paul's face. She had heard of him +often enough, but had never seen him before, and she was rather +doubtful as to his identity. She knew that thieves and robbers resorted +to all sorts of tricks in the course of their evil vocation. Mightn't +this application for admittance in the dead of the night be only a part +of some burglarious plot against the spoons and forks, and that +hereditary silver urn with lions' heads holding rings in their mouths +for handles, the fame of which had no doubt circulated throughout all +Lincolnshire? Mr. Marchmont had neither a black mask nor a +dark-lantern, and to Martha Philpot's mind these were essential +attributes of the legitimate burglar; but he might be burglariously +disposed, nevertheless, and it would be well to be on the safe side. + +"I'll go and tell 'em," the discreet Martha said civilly; "but perhaps +you won't mind my leaving the chain oop. It ain't like as if it was +winter," she added apologetically. + +"You may shut the door, if you like," answered Paul; "only be quick and +wake your master. You can tell him that I want to see him upon a matter +of life and death." + +Martha hurried away, and Paul stood upon the broad stone steps waiting +for her return. Every moment was precious to him, for he wanted to be +beforehand with Olivia. He had no thought except that she would come +straight to the Grange to see Edward Arundel; unless, indeed, she was +by any chance ignorant of his whereabouts. + +Presently the light appeared again in the narrow windows, and this time +a man's foot sounded upon the stone-flagged hall. This time, too, +Martha let down the chain, and opened the door wide enough for Mr. +Marchmont to enter. She had no fear of burglarious marauders now that +the valiant Major was at her elbow. + +"Mr. Marchmont," exclaimed the old soldier, opening a door leading into +a little study, "you will excuse me if I seem rather bewildered by your +visit. When an old fellow like me is called up in the middle of the +night, he can't be expected to have his wits about him just at first. +(Martha, bring us a light.) Sit down, Mr. Marchmont; there's a chair at +your elbow. And now may I ask the reason----?" + +"The reason I have disturbed you in this abrupt manner. The occasion +that brings me here is a very painful one; but I believe that my coming +may save you and yours from much annoyance." + +"Save us from annoyance! Really, my dear sir, you----" + +"I mystify you for the moment, no doubt," Paul interposed blandly; "but +if you will have a little patience with me, Major Lawford, I think I +can make everything very clear,--only too painfully clear. You have +heard of my relative, Mrs. John Marchmont,--my cousin's widow?" + +"I have," answered the Major, gravely. + +The dark scandals that had been current about wretched Olivia Marchmont +came into his mind with the mention of her name, and the memory of +those miserable slanders overshadowed his frank face. + +Paul waited while Martha brought in a smoky lamp, with the half-lighted +wick sputtering and struggling in its oily socket. Then he went on, in +a calm, dispassionate voice, which seemed the voice of a benevolent +Christian, sublimely remote from other people's sorrows, but tenderly +pitiful of suffering humanity, nevertheless. + +"You have heard of my unhappy cousin. You have no doubt heard that she +is--mad?" + +He dropped his voice into so low a whisper, that he only seemed to +shape this last word with his thin flexible lips. + +"I have heard some rumour to that effect," the Major answered; "that is +to say, I have heard that Mrs. John Marchmont has lately become +eccentric in her habits." + +"It has been my dismal task to watch the slow decay of a very powerful +intellect," continued Paul. "When I first came to Marchmont Towers, +about the time of my cousin Mary's unfortunate elopement with Mr. +Arundel, that mental decay had already set in. Already the compass of +Olivia Marchmont's mind had become reduced to a monotone, and the one +dominant thought was doing its ruinous work. It was my fate to find the +clue to that sad decay; it was my fate very speedily to discover the +nature of that all-absorbing thought which, little by little, had grown +into monomania." + +Major Lawford stared at his visitor's face. He was a plain-spoken man, +and could scarcely see his way clearly through all this obscurity of +fine words. + +"You mean to say you found out what had driven your cousin's widow +mad?" he said bluntly. + +"You put the question very plainly, Major Lawford. Yes; I discovered +the secret of my unhappy relative's morbid state of mind. That secret +lies in the fact, that for the last ten years Olivia Marchmont has +cherished a hopeless affection for her cousin, Mr. Edward Arundel." + +The Major almost bounded off his chair in horrified surprise. + +"Good gracious!" he exclaimed; "you surprise me, Mr. Marchmont, +and--and--rather unpleasantly." + +"I should never have revealed this secret to you or to any other living +creature, Major Lawford, had not circumstances compelled me to do so. +As far as Mr. Arundel is concerned, I can set your mind quite at ease. +He has chosen to insult me very grossly; but let that pass. I must do +him the justice to state that I believe him to have been from first to +last utterly ignorant of the state of his cousin's mind." + +"I hope so, sir; egad, I hope so!" exclaimed the Major, rather +fiercely. "If I thought that this young man had trifled with the lady's +affection; if I thought----" + +"You need think nothing to the detriment of Mr. Arundel," answered +Paul, with placid politeness, "except that he is hot-headed, obstinate, +and foolish. He is a young man of excellent principles, and has never +fathomed the secret of his cousin's conduct towards him. I am rather a +close observer,--something of a student of human nature,--and I have +watched this unhappy woman. She loves, and has loved, her cousin Edward +Arundel; and hers is one of those concentrative natures in which a +great passion is nearly akin to a monomania. It was this hopeless, +unreturned affection that embittered her character, and made her a +harsh stepmother to my poor cousin Mary. For a long time this wretched +woman has been very quiet; but her tranquillity has been only a +deceitful calm. To-night the storm broke. Olivia Marchmont heard of the +marriage that is to take place to-morrow; and, for the first time, a +state of melancholy mania developed into absolute violence. She came to +me, and attacked me upon the subject of this intended marriage. She +accused me of having plotted to give Edward Arundel another bride; and +then, after exhausting herself by a torrent of passionate invective +against me, against her cousin Edward, your daughter,--every one +concerned in to-morrow's event,--this wretched woman rushed out of the +house in a jealous fury, declaring that she would do something--no +matter what--to hinder the celebration of Edward Arundel's second +marriage." + +"Good Heavens!" gasped the Major. "And you mean to say----" + +"I mean to say, that there is no knowing what may be attempted by a +madwoman, driven mad by a jealousy in itself almost as terrible as +madness. Olivia Marchmont has sworn to hinder your daughter's marriage. +What has not been done by unhappy creatures in this woman's state of +mind? Every day we read of such things in the newspapers--deeds of +horror at which the blood grows cold in our veins; and we wonder that +Heaven can permit such misery. It is not any frivolous motive that +brings me here in the dead of the night, Major Lawford. I come to tell +you that a desperate woman has sworn to hinder to-morrow's marriage. +Heaven knows what she may do in her jealous frenzy! She _may_ attack +your daughter." + +The father's face grew pale. His Linda, his darling, exposed to the +fury of a madwoman! He could conjure up the scene: the fair girl +clinging to her lover's breast, and desperate Olivia Marchmont swooping +down upon her like an angry tigress. + +"For mercy's sake, tell me what I am to do, Mr. Marchmont!" cried the +Major. "God bless you, sir, for bringing me this warning! But what am I +to do? What do you advise? Shall we postpone the wedding?" + +"On no account. All you have to do is to keep this wretched woman at +bay. Shut your doors upon her. Do not let her be admitted to this house +upon any pretence whatever. Get the wedding over an hour earlier than +has been intended, if it is possible for you to do so, and hurry the +bride and bridegroom away upon the first stage of their wedding-tour. +If you wish to escape all the wretchedness of a public scandal, avoid +seeing this woman." + +"I will, I will," answered the bewildered Major. "It's a most awful +situation. My poor Belinda! Her wedding-day! And a mad woman to +attempt--Upon my word, Mr. Marchmont, I don't know how to thank you for +the trouble you have taken." + +"Don't speak of that. This woman is my cousin's widow: any shame of +hers is disgrace to me. Avoid seeing her. If by any chance she does +contrive to force herself upon you, turn a deaf ear to all she may say. +She horrified me to-night by her mad assertions. Be prepared for +anything she may declare. She is possessed by all manner of delusions, +remember, and may make the most ridiculous assertions. There is no +limit to her hallucinations. She may offer to bring Edward Arundel's +dead wife from the grave, perhaps. But you will not, on any account, +allow her to obtain access to your daughter." + +"No, no--on no account. My poor Belinda! I am very grateful to you, Mr. +Marchmont, for this warning. You'll stop here for the rest of the +night? Martha's beds are always aired. You'll accept the shelter of our +spare room until to-morrow morning?" + +"You are very good, Major Lawford; but I must hurry away directly. +Remember that I am quite ignorant as to where my unhappy relative may +be wandering at this hour of the night. She may have returned to the +Towers. Her jealous fury may have exhausted itself; and in that case I +have exaggerated the danger. But, at any rate I thought it best to give +you this warning." + +"Most decidedly, my dear sir; I thank you from the bottom of my heart. +But you'll take something--wine, tea, brandy-and-water--eh?" + +Paul had put on his hat and made his way into the hall by this time. +There was no affectation in his eagerness to be away. He glanced +uneasily towards the door every now and then while the Major was +offering hospitable hindrance to his departure. He was very pale, with +a haggard, ashen pallor that betrayed his anxiety, in spite of his +bland calmness of manner. + +"You are very kind. No; I will get away at once. I have done my duty +here; I must now try and do what I can for this wretched woman. Good +night. Remember; shut your doors upon her." + +He unfastened the bridle of his horse, mounted, and rode away slowly, +so long as there was any chance of the horse's tread being heard at the +Grange. But when he was a quarter of a mile away from Major Lawford's +house, he urged the horse into a gallop. He had no spurs; but he used +his whip with a ruthless hand, and went off at a tearing pace along a +narrow lane, where the ruts were deep. + +He rode for fifteen miles; and it was grey morning when he drew rein at +a dilapidated five-barred gate leading into the great, tenantless yard +of an uninhabited farmhouse. The place had been unlet for some years; +and the land was in the charge of a hind in Mr. Marchmont's service. +The hind lived in a cottage at the other extremity of the farm; and +Paul had erected new buildings, with engine-houses and complicated +machinery for pumping the water off the low-lying lands. Thus it was +that the old farmhouse and the old farmyard were suffered to fall into +decay. The empty sties, the ruined barns and outhouses, the rotting +straw, and pools of rank corruption, made this tenantless farmyard the +very abomination of desolation. Paul Marchmont opened the gate and went +in. He picked his way very cautiously through the mud and filth, +leading his horse by the bridle till he came to an outhouse, where he +secured the animal. Then he crossed the yard, lifted the rusty latch of +a narrow wooden door set in a plastered wall, and went into a dismal +stone court, where one lonely hen was moulting in miserable solitude. + +Long rank grass grew in the interstices of the flags. The lonely hen +set up a roopy cackle, and fluttered into a corner at sight of Paul +Marchmont. There were some rabbit-hutches, tenantless; a dovecote, +empty; a dog-kennel, and a broken chain rusting slowly in a pool of +water, but no dog. The courtyard was at the back of the house, looked +down upon by a range of latticed windows, some with closed shutters, +others with shutters swinging in the wind, as if they had been fain to +beat themselves to death in very desolation of spirit. + +Mr. Marchmont opened a door and went into the house. There were empty +cellars and pantries, dairies and sculleries, right and left of him. +The rats and mice scuttled away at sound of the intruder's footfall. +The spiders ran upon the damp-stained walls, and the disturbed cobwebs +floated slowly down from the cracked ceilings and tickled Mr. +Marchmont's face. + +Farther on in the interior of the gloomy habitation Paul found a great +stone-paved kitchen, at the darkest end of which there was a rusty +grate, in which a minimum of flame struggled feebly with a maximum of +smoke. An open oven-door revealed a dreary black cavern; and the very +manner of the rusty door, and loose, half-broken handle, was an +advertisement of incapacity for any homely hospitable use. Pale, sickly +fungi had sprung up in clusters at the corners of the damp hearthstone. +Spiders and rats, damp and cobwebs, every sign by which Decay writes +its name upon the dwelling man has deserted, had set its separate mark +upon this ruined place. + +Paul Marchmont looked round him with a contemptuous shudder. He called +"Mrs. Brown! Mrs. Brown!" two or three times, each time waiting for an +answer; but none came, and Mr. Marchmont passed on into another room. + +Here at least there was some poor pretence of comfort. The room was in +the front of the house, and the low latticed window looked out upon a +neglected garden, where some tall foxgloves reared their gaudy heads +amongst the weeds. At the end of the garden there was a high brick +wall, with pear-trees trained against it, and dragon's-mouth and +wallflower waving in the morning-breeze. + +There was a bed in this room, empty; an easy-chair near the window; +near that a little table, and a _set of Indian chessmen_. Upon the bed +there were some garments scattered, as if but lately flung there; and +on the floor, near the fireplace, there were the fragments of a child's +first toys--a tiny trumpet, bought at some village fair, a baby's +rattle, and a broken horse. + +Paul Marchmont looked about him--a little puzzled at first; then with a +vague dread in his haggard face. + +"Mrs. Brown!" he cried, in a loud voice, hurrying across the room +towards an inner door as he spoke. + +The inner door was opened before Paul could reach it, and a woman +appeared; a tall, gaunt-looking woman, with a hard face and bare, +brawny arms. + +"Where, in Heaven's name, have you been hiding yourself, woman?" Paul +cried impatiently. "And where's--your patient?" + +"Gone, sir." + +"Gone! Where?" + +"With her stepmamma, Mrs. Marchmont--not half an hour ago. As it was +your wish I should stop behind to clear up, I've done so, sir; but I +did think it would have been better for me to have gone with----" + +Paul clutched the woman by the arm, and dragged her towards him. + +"Are you mad?" he cried, with an oath. "Are you mad, or drunk? Who gave +you leave to let that woman go? Who----?" + +He couldn't finish the sentence. His throat grew dry, and he gasped for +breath; while all the blood in his body seemed to rush into his swollen +forehead. + +"You sent Mrs. Marchmont to fetch my patient away, sir," exclaimed the +woman, looking frightened. "You did, didn't you? She said so!" + +"She is a liar; and you are a fool or a cheat. She paid you, I dare +say! Can't you speak, woman? Has the person I left in your care, whom +you were paid, and paid well, to take care of,--have you let her go? +Answer me that." + +"I have, sir," the woman faltered,--she was big and brawny, but there +was that in Paul Marchmont's face that frightened her +notwithstanding,--"seeing as it was your orders." + +"That will do," cried Paul Marchmont, holding up his hand and looking +at the woman with a ghastly smile; "that will do. You have ruined me; +do you hear? You have undone a work that has cost me--O my God! why do +I waste my breath in talking to such a creature as this? All my plots, +my difficulties, my struggles and victories, my long sleepless nights, +my bad dreams,--has it all come to this? Ruin, unutterable ruin, +brought upon me by a madwoman!" + +He sat down in the chair by the window, and leaned upon the table, +scattering the Indian chessmen with his elbow. He did not weep. That +relief--terrible relief though it be for a man's breast--was denied +him. He sat there with his face covered, moaning aloud. That helpless +moan was scarcely like the complaint of a man; it was rather like the +hopeless, dreary utterance of a brute's anguish; it sounded like the +miserable howling of a beaten cur. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +BELINDA'S WEDDING-DAY. + + +The sun shone upon Belinda Lawford's wedding-day. The birds were +singing in the garden under her window as she opened her lattice and +looked out. The word lattice is not a poetical license in this case; +for Miss Lawford's chamber was a roomy, old-fashioned apartment at the +back of the house, with deep window-seats and diamond-paned casements. + +The sun shone, and the roses bloomed in all their summer glory. "'Twas +in the time of roses," as gentle-minded Thomas Hood so sweetly sang; +surely the time of all others for a bridal morning. The girl looked out +into the sunshine with her loose hair falling about her shoulders, and +lingered a little looking at the familiar garden, with a half-pensive +smile. + +"Oh, how often, how often," she said, "I have walked up and down by +those laburnums, Letty!" There were two pretty white-curtained +bedsteads in the old-fashioned room, and Miss Arundel had shared her +friend's apartment for the last week. "How often mamma and I have sat +under the dear old cedar, making our poor children's frocks! People say +monotonous lives are not happy: mine has been the same thing over and +over again; and yet how happy, how happy! And to think that we"--she +paused a moment, and the rosy colour in her cheeks deepened by just one +shade; it was so sweet to use that simple monosyllable "we" when Edward +Arundel was the other half of the pronoun,--"to think that we shall be +in Paris to-morrow!" + +"Driving in the Bois," exclaimed Miss Arundel; "and dining at the +Maison Doree, or the Cafe de Paris. Don't dine at Meurice's, Linda; +it's dreadfully slow dining at one's hotel. And you'll be a young +married woman, and can do anything, you know. If I were a young married +woman, I'd ask my husband to take me to the Mabille, just for half an +hour, with an old bonnet and a thick veil. I knew a girl whose +first-cousin married a cornet in the Guards, and they went to the +Mabille one night. Come, Belinda, if you mean to have your back-hair +done at all, you'd better sit down at once and let me commence +operations." + +Miss Arundel had stipulated that, upon this particular morning, she was +to dress her friend's hair; and she turned up the frilled sleeves of +her white dressing-gown, and set to work in the orthodox manner, +spreading a network of shining tresses about Miss Lawford's shoulders, +prior to the weaving of elaborate plaits that were to make a crown for +the fair young bride. Letitia's tongue went as fast as her fingers; but +Belinda was very silent. + +She was thinking of the bounteous Providence that had given her the man +she loved for her husband. She had been on her knees in the early +morning, long before Letitia's awakening, breathing out innocent +thanksgiving for the happiness that overflowed her fresh young heart. A +woman had need to be country-bred, and to have been reared in the +narrow circle of a happy home, to feel as Belinda Lawford felt. Such +love as hers is only given to bright and innocent spirits, untarnished +even by the knowledge of sin. + +Downstairs Edward Arundel was making a wretched pretence of +breakfasting _tete-a-tete_ with his future father-in-law. + +The Major had held his peace as to the unlooked-for visitant of the +past night. He had given particular orders that no stranger should be +admitted to the house, and that was all. But being of a naturally +frank, not to say loquacious disposition, the weight of this secret was +a very terrible burden to the honest half-pay soldier. He ate his dry +toast uneasily, looking at the door every now and then, in the +perpetual expectation of beholding that barrier burst open by mad +Olivia Marchmont. + +The breakfast was not a very cheerful meal, therefore. I don't suppose +any ante-nuptial breakfast ever is very jovial. There was the state +banquet--_the_ wedding breakfast--to be eaten by-and-by; and Mrs. +Lawford, attended by all the females of the establishment, was engaged +in putting the last touches to the groups of fruit and confectionery, +the pyramids of flowers, and that crowning glory, the wedding-cake. + +"Remember the Madeira and still Hock are to go round first, and then +the sparkling; and tell Gogram to be particular about the corks, +Martha," Mrs. Lawford said to her confidential maid, as she gave a +nervous last look at the table. "I was at a breakfast once where a +champagne-cork hit the bridegroom on the bridge of his nose at the very +moment he rose to return thanks; and being a nervous man, poor +fellow,--in point of fact, he was a curate, and the bride was the +rector's daughter, with two hundred a year of her own,--it quite +overcame him, and he didn't get over it all through the breakfast. And +now I must run and put on my bonnet." + +There was nothing but putting on bonnets, and pinning lace-shawls, and +wild outcries for hair-pins, and interchanging of little feminine +services, upon the bedroom floor for the next half-hour. + +Major Lawford walked up and down the hall, putting on his white gloves, +which were too large for him,--elderly men's white gloves always are +too large for them,--and watching the door of the citadel. Olivia must +pass over a father's body, the old soldier thought, before she should +annoy Belinda on her bridal morning. + +By-and-by the carriages came round to the door. The girl bridesmaids +came crowding down the stairs, hustling each other's crisped garments, +and disputing a little in a sisterly fashion; then Letitia Arundel, +with nine rustling flounces of white silk ebbing and flowing and +surging about her, and with a pleased simper upon her face; and then +followed Mrs. Arundel, stately in silver-grey moire, and Mrs. Lawford, +in violet silk--until the hall was a show of bonnets and bouquets and +muslin. + +And last of all, Belinda Lawford, robed in cloudlike garments of +spotless lace, with bridal flowers trembling round her hair, came +slowly down the broad old-fashioned staircase, to see her lover +loitering in the hall below. + +He looked very grave; but he greeted his bride with a tender smile. He +loved her, but he could not forget. Even upon this, his wedding-day, +the haunting shadow of the past was with him: not to be shaken off. + +He did not wait till Belinda reached the bottom of the staircase. There +was a sort of ceremonial law to be observed, and he was not to speak to +Miss Lawford upon this special morning until he met her in the vestry +at Hillingsworth church; so Letitia and Mrs. Arundel hustled the young +man into one of the carriages, while Major Lawford ran to receive his +daughter at the foot of the stairs. + +The Arundel carriage drove off about five minutes before the vehicle +that was to convey Major Lawford, Belinda, and as many of the girl +bridesmaids as could be squeezed into it without detriment to lace and +muslin. The rest went with Mrs. Lawford in the third and last carriage. +Hillingsworth church was about three-quarters of a mile from the +Grange. It was a pretty irregular old place, lying in a little nook +under the shadow of a great yew-tree. Behind the square Norman tower +there was a row of poplars, black against the blue summer sky; and +between the low gate of the churchyard and the grey, moss-grown porch, +there was an avenue of good old elms. The rooks were calling to each +other in the topmost branches of the trees as Major Lawford's carriage +drew up at the churchyard gate. + +Belinda was a great favourite amongst the poor of Hillingsworth parish, +and the place had put on a gala-day aspect in honour of her wedding. +Garlands of honeysuckle and wild clematis were twined about the stout +oaken gate-posts. The school-children were gathered in clusters in the +churchyard, with their pinafores full of fresh flowers from shadowy +lanes and from prim cottage-gardens,--bright homely blossoms, with the +morning dew still upon them. + +The rector and his curate were standing in the porch waiting for the +coming of the bride; and there were groups of well-dressed people +dotted about here and there in the drowsy-sheltered pews near the +altar. There were humbler spectators clustered under the low ceiling of +the gallery--tradesmen's wives and daughters, radiant with new ribbons, +and whispering to one another in delighted anticipation of the show. + +Everybody round about the Grange loved pretty, genial Belinda Lawford, +and there was universal rejoicing because of her happiness. + +The wedding party came out of the vestry presently in appointed order: +the bride with her head drooping, and her face hidden by her veil; the +bridesmaids' garments making a fluttering noise as they came up the +aisle, like the sound of a field of corn faintly stirred by summer +breezes. + +Then the grave voice of the rector began the service with the brief +preliminary exordium; and then, in a tone that grew more solemn with +the increasing solemnity of the words, he went on to that awful charge +which is addressed especially to the bridegroom and the bride: + +"I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day +of judgment, when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if +either of you know any impediment, why ye may not be lawfully joined +together in matrimony, ye do now confess it. For be ye well +assured----" + +The rector read no further; for a woman's voice from out the dusky +shadows at the further end of the church cried "Stop!" + +There was a sudden silence; people stared at each other with scared +faces, and then turned in the direction whence the voice had come. The +bride lifted her head for the first time since leaving the vestry, and +looked round about her, ashy pale and trembling. + +"O Edward, Edward!" she cried, "what is it?" + +The rector waited, with his hand still upon the open book. He waited, +looking towards the other end of the chancel. He had no need to wait +long: a woman, with a black veil thrown back from a white, haggard +face, and with dusty garments dragging upon the church-floor, came +slowly up the aisle. + +Her two hands were clasped upon her breast, and her breath came in +gasps, as if she had been running. + +"Olivia!" cried Edward Arundel, "what, in Heaven's name--" + +But Major Lawford stepped forward, and spoke to the rector. + +"Pray let her be got out of the way," he said, in a low voice. "I was +warned of this. I was quite prepared for some such disturbance." He +sank his voice to a whisper. "_She is mad!_" he said, close in the +rector's ear. + +The whisper was like whispering in general,--more distinctly audible +than the rest of the speech. Olivia Marchmont heard it. + +"Mad until to-day," she cried; "but not mad to-day. O Edward Arundel! a +hideous wrong has been done by me and through me. Your wife--your +wife--" + +"My wife! what of her? She--" + +"She is alive!" gasped Olivia; "an hour's walk from here. I came on +foot. I was tired, and I have been long coming. I thought that I should +be in time to stop you before you got to the church; but I am very +weak. I ran the last part of the way--" + +She dropped her hands upon the altar-rails, and seemed as if she would +have fallen. The rector put his arm about her to support her, and she +went on: + +"I thought I should have spared her this," she said, pointing to +Belinda; "but I can't help it. _She_ must bear her misery as well as +others. It can't be worse for her than it has been for others. She must +bear--" + +"My wife!" said Edward Arundel; "Mary, my poor sorrowful +darling--alive?" + +Belinda turned away, and buried her face upon her mother's shoulder. +She could have borne anything better than this. + +His heart--that supreme treasure, for which she had rendered up thanks +to her God--had never been hers after all. A word, a breath, and she +was forgotten; his thoughts went back to that other one. There was +unutterable joy, there was unspeakable tenderness in his tone, as he +spoke of Mary Marchmont, though _she_ stood by his side, in all her +foolish bridal finery, with her heart newly broken. + +"O mother," she cried, "take me away! take me away, before I die!" + +Olivia flung herself upon her knees by the altar-rails. Where the pure +young bride was to have knelt by her lover's side this wretched sinner +cast herself down, sunk far below all common thoughts in the black +depth of her despair. + +"O my sin, my sin!" she cried, with clasped hands lifted up above her +head. "Will God ever forgive my sin? will God ever have pity upon me? +Can He pity, can He forgive, such guilt as mine? Even this work of +to-day is no atonement to be reckoned against my wickedness. I was +jealous of this other woman; I was jealous! Earthly passion was still +predominant in this miserable breast." + +She rose suddenly, as if this outburst had never been, and laid her +hand upon Edward Arundel's arm. + +"Come!" she said; "come!" + +"To her--to Mary--my wife?" + +They had taken Belinda away by this time; but Major Lawford stood +looking on. He tried to draw Edward aside; but Olivia's hand upon the +young man's arm held him like a vice. + +"She is mad," whispered the Major. "Mr. Marchmont came to me last +night, and warned me of all this. He told me to be prepared for +anything; she has all sorts of delusions. Get her away, if you can, +while I go and explain matters to Belinda. Edward, if you have a spark +of manly feeling, get this woman away." + +But Olivia held the bridegroom's arm with a tightening grasp. + +"Come!" she said; "come! Are you turned to stone, Edward Arundel? Is +your love worth no more than this? I tell you, your wife, Mary +Marchmont, is alive. Let those who doubt me come and see for +themselves." + +The eager spectators, standing up in the pews or crowding in the narrow +aisle, were only too ready to respond to this invitation. + +Olivia led her cousin out into the churchyard; she led him to the gate +where the carriages were waiting. The crowd flocked after them; and the +people outside began to cheer as they came out. That cheer was the +signal for which the school-children had waited; and they set to work +scattering flowers upon the narrow pathway, before they looked up to +see who was coming to trample upon the rosebuds and jessamine, the +woodbine and seringa. But they drew back, scared and wondering, as +Olivia came along the pathway, sweeping those tender blossoms after her +with her trailing black garments, and leading the pale bridegroom by +his arm. + +She led him to the door of the carriage beside which Major Lawford's +gray-haired groom was waiting, with a big white satin favour pinned +upon his breast, and a bunch of roses in his button hole. There were +favours in the horses' ears, and favours upon the breasts of the +Hillingsworth tradespeople who supplied bread and butcher's meat and +grocery to the family at the Grange. The bell-ringers up in the +church-tower saw the crowd flock out of the porch, and thought the +marriage ceremony was over. The jangling bells pealed out upon the hot +summer air as Edward stood by the churchyard-gate, with Olivia +Marchmont by his side. + +"Lend me your carriage," he said to Major Lawford, "and come with me. I +must see the end of this. It may be all a delusion; but I must see the +end of it. If there is any truth in instinct, I believe that I shall +see my wife--alive." + +He got into the carriage without further ceremony, and Olivia and Major +Lawford followed him. + +"Where is my wife?" the young man asked, letting down the front window +as he spoke. + +"At Kemberling, at Hester Jobson's." + +"Drive to Kemberling," Edward said to the coachman,--"to Kemberling +High Street, as fast as you can go." + +The man drove away from the churchyard-gate. The humbler spectators, +who were restrained by no niceties of social etiquette, hurried after +the vehicle, raising white clouds of dust upon the high road with their +eager feet. The higher classes lingered about the churchyard, talking +to each other and wondering. + +Very few people stopped to think of Belinda Lawford. "Let the stricken +deer go weep." A stricken deer is a very uninteresting object when +there are hounds in full cry hard by, and another deer to be hunted. + +"Since when has my wife been at Kemberling?" Edward Arundel asked +Olivia, as the carriage drove along the high road between the two +villages. + +"Since daybreak this morning." + +"Where was she before then?" + +"At Stony-Stringford Farm." + +"And before then?" + +"In the pavilion over the boat-house at Marchmont." + +"My God! And--" + +The young man did not finish his sentence. He put his head out of the +window, looking towards Kemberling, and straining his eyes to catch the +earliest sight of the straggling village street. + +"Faster!" he cried every now and then to the coachman; "faster!" + +In little more than half an hour from the time at which it had left the +churchyard-gate, the carriage stopped before the little carpenter's +shop. Mr. Jobson's doorway was adorned by a painted representation of +two very doleful-looking mutes standing at a door; for Hester's husband +combined the more aristocratic avocation of undertaker with the homely +trade of carpenter and joiner. + +Olivia Marchmont got out of the carriage before either of the two men +could alight to assist her. Power was the supreme attribute of this +woman's mind. Her purpose never faltered; from the moment she had left +Marchmont Towers until now, she had known neither rest of body nor +wavering of intention. + +"Come," she said to Edward Arundel, looking back as she stood upon the +threshold of Mr. Jobson's door; "and you too," she added, turning to +Major Lawford,--"follow us, and _see_ whether I am MAD." + +She passed through the shop, and into that prim, smart parlour in which +Edward Arundel had lamented his lost wife. + +The latticed windows were wide open, and the warm summer sunshine +filled the room. + +A girl, with loose tresses of hazel-brown hair falling about her face, +was sitting on the floor, looking down at a beautiful fair-haired +nursling of a twelvemonth old. + +The girl was John Marchmont's daughter; the child was Edward Arundel's +son. It was _his_ childish cry that the young man had heard upon that +October night in the pavilion by the water. + +"Mary Arundel," said Olivia, in a hard voice, "I give you back your +husband." + +The young mother got up from the ground with a low cry, tottered +forward, and fell into her husband's arms. + +"They told me you were dead! They made me believe that you were dead!" +she said, and then fainted on the young man's breast. Edward carried +her to a sofa and laid her down, white and senseless; and then knelt +down beside her, crying over her, and sobbing out inarticulate +thanksgiving to the God who had given his lost wife back to him. + +"Poor sweet lamb!" murmured Hester Jobson; "she's as weak as a baby; +and she's gone through so much a'ready this morning." + +It was some time before Edward Arundel raised his head from the pillow +upon which his wife's pale face lay, half hidden amid the tangled hair. +But when he did look up, he turned to Major Lawford and stretched out +his hand. + +"Have pity upon me," he said. "I have been the dupe of a villain. Tell +your poor child how much I esteem her, how much I regret that--that--we +should have loved each other as we have. The instinct of my heart would +have kept me true to the past; but it was impossible to know your +daughter and not love her. The villain who has brought this sorrow upon +us shall pay dearly for his infamy. Go back to your daughter; tell her +everything. Tell her what you have seen here. I know her heart, and I +know that she will open her arms to this poor ill-used child." + +The Major went away very downcast. Hester Jobson bustled about bringing +restoratives and pillows, stopping every now and then in an outburst of +affection by the slippery horsehair couch on which Mary lay. + +Mrs. Jobson had prepared her best bedroom for her beloved visitor, and +Edward carried his young wife up to the clean, airy chamber. He went +back to the parlour to fetch the child. He carried the fair-haired +little one up-stairs in his own arms; but I regret to say that the +infant showed an inclination to whimper in his newly-found father's +embrace. It is only in the British Drama that newly discovered fathers +are greeted with an outburst of ready-made affection. Edward Arundel +went back to the sitting-room presently, and sat down, waiting till +Hester should bring him fresh tidings of his wife. Olivia Marchmont +stood by the window, with her eyes fixed upon Edward. + +"Why don't you speak to me?" she said presently. "Can you find no words +that are vile enough to express your hatred of me? Is that why you are +silent?" + +"No, Olivia," answered the young man, calmly. "I am silent, because I +have nothing to say to you. Why you have acted as you have acted,--why +you have chosen to be the tool of a black-hearted villain,--is an +unfathomable mystery to me. I thank God that your conscience was +aroused this day, and that you have at least hindered the misery of an +innocent girl. But why you have kept my wife hidden from me,--why you +have been the accomplice of Paul Marchmont's crime,--is more than I can +even attempt to guess." + +"Not yet?" said Olivia, looking at him with a strange smile. "Even yet +I am a mystery to you?" + +"You are, indeed, Olivia." + +She turned away from him with a laugh. + +"Then I had better remain so till the end," she said, looking out into +the garden. But after a moment's silence she turned her head once more +towards the young man. "I will speak," she said; "I _will_ speak, +Edward Arundel. I hope and believe that I have not long to live, and +that all my shame and misery, my obstinate wickedness, my guilty +passion, will come to an end, like a long feverish dream. O God, have +mercy on my waking, and make it brighter than this dreadful sleep! I +loved you, Edward Arundel. Ah! you start. Thank God at least for that. +I kept my secret well. You don't know what that word 'love' means, do +you? You think you love that childish girl yonder, perhaps; but I can +tell you that you don't know what love is. _I_ know what it is. I have +loved. For ten years,--for ten long, dreary, desolate, miserable years, +fifty-two weeks in every year, fifty-two Sundays, with long idle hours +between the two church services--I have loved you, Edward. Shall I tell +you what it is to love? It is to suffer, to hate, yes, to hate even the +object of your love, when that love is hopeless; to hate him for the +very attributes that have made you love him; to grudge the gifts and +graces that have made him dear. It is to hate every creature on whom +his eyes look with greater tenderness than they look on you; to watch +one face until its familiar lines become a perpetual torment to you, +and you cannot sleep because of its eternal presence staring at you in +all your dreams. It is to be like some wretched drunkard, who loathes +the fiery spirit that is destroying him, body and soul, and yet goes +on, madly drinking, till he dies. Love! How many people upon this great +earth know the real meaning of that hideous word! I have learnt it +until my soul loathes the lesson. They will tell you that I am mad, +Edward, and they will tell you something near the truth; but not quite +the truth. My madness has been my love. From long ago, when you were +little more than a boy--you remember, don't you, the long days at the +Rectory? _I_ remember every word you ever spoke to me, every sentiment +you ever expressed, every look of your changing face--you were the +first bright thing that came across my barren life; and I loved you. I +married John Marchmont--why, do you think?--because I wanted to make a +barrier between you and me. I wanted to make my love for you impossible +by making it a sin. So long as my husband lived, I shut your image out +of my mind as I would have shut out the Prince of Darkness, if he had +come to me in a palpable shape. But since then--oh, I hope I have been +mad since then; I hope that God may forgive my sins because I have been +mad!" + +Her thoughts wandered away to that awful question which had been so +lately revived in her mind--Could she be forgiven? Was it within the +compass of heavenly mercy to forgive such a sin as hers? + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +MARY'S STORY. + + +One of the minor effects of any great shock, any revolution, natural or +political, social or domestic, is a singular unconsciousness, or an +exaggerated estimate, of the passage of time. Sometimes we fancy that +the common functions of the universe have come to a dead stop during +the tempest which has shaken our being to its remotest depths. +Sometimes, on the other hand, it seems to us that, because we have +endured an age of suffering, or half a lifetime of bewildered joy, the +terrestrial globe has spun round in time to the quickened throbbing of +our passionate hearts, and that all the clocks upon earth have been +standing still. + +When the sun sank upon the summer's day that was to have been the day +of Belinda's bridal, Edward Arundel thought that it was still early in +the morning. He wondered at the rosy light all over the western sky, +and that great ball of molten gold dropping down below the horizon. He +was fain to look at his watch, in order to convince himself that the +low light was really the familiar sun, and not some unnatural +appearance in the heavens. + +And yet, although he wondered at the closing of the day, with a strange +inconsistency his mind could scarcely grapple with the idea that only +last night he had sat by Belinda Lawford's side, her betrothed husband, +and had pondered, Heaven only knows with what sorrowful regret, upon +the unknown grave in which his dead wife lay. + +"I only knew it this morning," he thought; "I only knew this morning +that my young wife still lives, and that I have a son." + +He was sitting by the open window in Hester Jobson's best bedroom. He +was sitting in an old-fashioned easy-chair, placed between the head of +the bed and the open window,--a pure cottage window, with diamond panes +of thin greenish glass, and a broad painted ledge, with a great jug of +homely garden-flowers standing on it. The young man was sitting by the +side of the bed upon which his newly-found wife and son lay asleep; the +child's head nestled on his mother's breast, one flushed cheek peeping +out of a tangled confusion of hazel-brown and babyish flaxen hair. + +The white dimity curtains overshadowed the loving sleepers. The pretty +fluffy knotted fringe--neat Hester's handiwork--made fantastical +tracery upon the sunlit counterpane. Mary slept with one arm folded +round her child, and with her face turned to her husband. She had +fallen asleep with her hand clasped in his, after a succession of +fainting-fits that had left her terribly prostrate. + +Edward Arundel watched that tender picture with a smile of ineffable +affection. + +"I can understand now why Roman Catholics worship the Virgin Mary," he +thought. "I can comprehend the inspiration that guided Raphael's hand +when he painted the Madonna de la Chaise. In all the world there is no +picture so beautiful. From all the universe he could have chosen no +subject more sublime. O my darling wife, given back to me out of the +grave, restored to me,--and not alone restored! My little son! my +baby-son! whose feeble voice I heard that dark October night. To think +that I was so wretched a dupe! to think that my dull ears could hear +that sound, and no instinct rise up in my heart to reveal the presence +of my child! I was so near them, not once, but several times,--so near, +and I never knew--I never guessed!" + +He clenched his fists involuntarily at the remembrance of those +purposeless visits to the lonely boat-house. His young wife was +restored to him. But nothing could wipe away the long interval of agony +in which he and she had been the dupe of a villanous trickster and a +jealous woman. Nothing could give back the first year of that baby's +life,--that year which should have been one long holiday of love and +rejoicing. Upon what a dreary world those innocent eyes had opened, +when they should have looked only upon sunshine and flowers, and the +tender light of a loving father's smile! + +"O my darling, my darling!" the young husband thought, as he looked at +his wife's wan face, upon which the evidence of all that past agony was +only too painfully visible,--"how bitterly we two have suffered! But +how much more terrible must have been your suffering than mine, my poor +gentle darling, my broken lily!" + +In his rapture at finding the wife he had mourned as dead, the young +man had for a time almost forgotten the villanous plotter who had kept +her hidden from him. But now, as he sat quietly by the bed upon which +Mary and her baby lay, he had leisure to think of Paul Marchmont. + +What was he to do with that man? What vengeance could he wreak upon the +head of that wretch who, for nearly two years, had condemned an +innocent girl to cruel suffering and shame? To shame; for Edward knew +now that one of the most bitter tortures which Paul Marchmont had +inflicted upon his cousin had been his pretended disbelief in her +marriage. + +"What can I do to him?" the young man asked himself. "_What_ can I do +to him? There is no personal chastisement worse than that which he has +endured already at my hands. The scoundrel! the heartless villain! the +false, cold-blooded cur! What can I do to him? I can only repeat that +shameful degradation, and I _will_ repeat it. This time he shall howl +under the lash like some beaten hound. This time I will drag him +through the village-street, and let every idle gossip in Kemberling see +how a scoundrel writhes under an honest man's whip. I will--" + +Edward Arundel's wife woke while he was thinking what chastisement he +should inflict upon her deadly foe; and the baby opened his round +innocent blue eyes in the next moment, and sat up, staring at his new +parent. + +Mr. Arundel took the child in his arms, and held him very tenderly, +though perhaps rather awkwardly. The baby's round eyes opened wider at +sight of those golden absurdities dangling at his father's watch-chain, +and the little pudgy hands began to play with the big man's lockets and +seals. + +"He comes to me, you see, Mary!" Edward said, with naive wonder. + +And then he turned the baby's face towards him, and tenderly +contemplated the bright surprised blue eyes, the tiny dimples, the soft +moulded chin. I don't know whether fatherly vanity prompted the fancy, +but Edward Arundel certainly did believe that he saw some faint +reflection of his own features in that pink and white baby-face; a +shadowy resemblance, like a tremulous image looking up out of a river. +But while Edward was half-thinking this, half-wondering whether there +could be any likeness to him in that infant countenance, Mary settled +the question with womanly decision. + +"Isn't he like you, Edward?" she whispered. "It was only for his sake +that I bore my life all through that miserable time; and I don't think +I could have lived even for him, if he hadn't been so like you. I used +to look at his face sometimes for hours and hours together, crying over +him, and thinking of you. I don't think I ever cried except when he was +in my arms. Then something seemed to soften my heart, and the tears +came to my eyes. I was very, very, very ill, for a long time before my +baby was born; and I didn't know how the time went, or where I was. I +used to fancy sometimes I was back in Oakley Street, and that papa was +alive again, and that we were quite happy together, except for some +heavy hammer that was always beating, beating, beating upon both our +heads, and the dreadful sound of the river rushing down the street +under our windows. I heard Mr. Weston tell his wife that it was a +miracle I lived through that time." + +Hester Jobson came in presently with a tea-tray, that made itself +heard, by a jingling of teaspoons and rattling of cups and saucers, all +the way up the narrow staircase. + +The friendly carpenter's wife had produced her best china and her +silver teapot,--an heirloom inherited from a wealthy maiden aunt of her +husband's. She had been busy all the afternoon, preparing that elegant +little collation of cake and fruit which accompanied the tea-tray; and +she spread the lavender-scented table-cloth, and arranged the cups and +saucers, the plates and dishes, with mingled pride and delight. + +But she had to endure a terrible disappointment by-and-by; for neither +of her guests was in a condition to do justice to her hospitality. Mary +got up and sat in the roomy easy-chair, propped up with pillows. Her +pensive eyes kept a loving watch upon the face of her husband, turned +towards her own, and slightly crimsoned by that rosy flush fading out +in the western sky. She sat up and sipped a cup of tea; and in that +lovely summer twilight, with the scent of the flowers blowing in +through the open window, and a stupid moth doing his best to beat out +his brains against one of the diamond panes in the lattice, the +tortured heart, for the first time since the ruthless close of that +brief honeymoon, felt the heavenly delight of repose. + +"O Edward!" murmured the young wife, "how strange it seems to be +happy!" + +He was at her feet, half-kneeling, half-sitting on a hassock of +Hester's handiwork, with both his wife's hands clasped in his, and his +head leaning upon the arm of her chair. Hester Jobson had carried off +the baby, and these two were quite alone, all in all to each other, +with a cruel gap of two years to be bridged over by sorrowful memories, +by tender words of consolation. They were alone, and they could talk +quite freely now, without fear of interruption; for although in purity +and beauty an infant is first cousin to the angels, and although I most +heartily concur in all that Mr. Bennett and Mr. Buchanan can say or +sing about the species, still it must be owned that a baby _is_ rather +a hindrance to conversation, and that a man's eloquence does not flow +quite so smoothly when he has to stop every now and then to rescue his +infant son from the imminent peril of strangulation, caused by a futile +attempt at swallowing one of his own fists. + +Mary and Edward were alone; they were together once more, as they had +been by the trout-stream in the Winchester meadows. A curtain had +fallen upon all the wreck and ruin of the past, and they could hear the +soft, mysterious music that was to be the prelude of a new act in +life's drama. + +"I shall try to forget all that time," Mary said presently; "I shall +try to forget it, Edward. I think the very memory of it would kill me, +if it was to come back perpetually in the midst of my joy, as it does +now, even now, when I am so happy--so happy that I dare not speak of my +happiness." + +She stopped, and her face drooped upon her husband's clustering hair. + +"You are crying, Mary!" + +"Yes, dear. There is something painful in happiness when it comes after +such suffering." + +The young man lifted his head, and looked in his wife's face. How +deathly pale it was, even in that shadowy twilight; how worn and +haggard and wasted since it had smiled at him in his brief honeymoon. +Yes, joy is painful when it comes after a long continuance of +suffering; it is painful because we have become sceptical by reason of +the endurance of such anguish. We have lost the power to believe in +happiness. It comes, the bright stranger; but we shrink appalled from +its beauty, lest, after all, it should be nothing but a phantom. + +Heaven knows how anxiously Edward Arundel looked at his wife's altered +face. Her eyes shone upon him with the holy light of love. She smiled +at him with a tender, reassuring smile; but it seemed to him that there +was something almost supernal in the brightness of that white, wasted +face; something that reminded him of the countenance of a martyr who +has ceased to suffer the anguish of death in a foretaste of the joys of +Heaven. + +"Mary," he said, presently, "tell me every cruelty that Paul Marchmont +or his tools inflicted upon you; tell me everything, and I will never +speak of our miserable separation again. I will only punish the cause +of it," he added, in an undertone. "Tell me, dear. It will be painful +for you to speak of it; but it will be only once. There are some things +I must know. Remember, darling, that you are in my arms now, and that +nothing but death can ever again part us." + +The young man had his arms round his wife. He felt, rather than heard, +a low plaintive sigh as he spoke those last words. + +"Nothing but death, Edward; nothing but death," Mary said, in a solemn +whisper. "Death would not come to me when I was very miserable. I used +to pray that I might die, and the baby too; for I could not have borne +to leave him behind. I thought that we might both be buried with you, +Edward. I have dreamt sometimes that I was lying by your side in a +tomb, and I have stretched out my dead hand to clasp yours. I used to +beg and entreat them to let me be buried with you when I died; for I +believed that you were dead, Edward. I believed it most firmly. I had +not even one lingering hope that you were alive. If I had felt such a +hope, no power upon earth would have kept me prisoner." + +"The wretches!" muttered Edward between his set teeth; "the dastardly +wretches! the foul liars!" + +"Don't, Edward; don't, darling. There is a pain in my heart when I hear +you speak like that. I know how wicked they have been; how cruel--how +cruel. I look back at all my suffering as if it were some one else who +suffered; for now that you are with me I cannot believe that miserable, +lonely, despairing creature was really me, the same creature whose head +now rests upon your shoulder, whose breath is mixed with yours. I look +back and see all my past misery, and I cannot forgive them, Edward; I +am very wicked, for I cannot forgive my cousin Paul and his +sister--yet. But I don't want you to speak of them; I only want you to +love me; I only want you to smile at me, and tell me again and again +and again that nothing can part us now--but death." + +She paused for a few moments, exhausted by having spoken so long. Her +head lay upon her husband's shoulder, and she clung a little closer to +him, with a slight shiver. + +"What is the matter, darling?" + +"I feel as if it couldn't be real." + +"What, dear?" + +"The present--all this joy. Edward, is it real? Is it--is it? Or am I +only dreaming? Shall I wake presently and feel the cold air blowing in +at the window, and see the moonlight on the wainscot at Stony +Stringford? Is it all real?" + +"It is, my precious one. As real as the mercy of God, who will give you +compensation for all you have suffered; as real as God's vengeance, +which will fall most heavily upon your persecutors. And now, darling, +tell me,--tell me all. I must know the story of these two miserable +years during which I have mourned for my lost love." + +Mr. Arundel forgot to mention that during those two miserable years he +had engaged himself to become the husband of another woman. But +perhaps, even when he is best and truest, a man is always just a shade +behind a woman in the matter of constancy. + +"When you left me in Hampshire, Edward, I was very, very miserable," +Mary began, in a low voice; "but I knew that it was selfish and wicked +of me to think only of myself. I tried to think of your poor father, +who was ill and suffering; and I prayed for him, and hoped that he +would recover, and that you would come back to me very soon. The people +at the inn were very kind to me. I sat at the window from morning till +night upon the day after you left me, and upon the day after that; for +I was so foolish as to fancy, every time I heard the sound of horses' +hoofs or carriage-wheels upon the high-road, that you were coming back +to me, and that all my grief was over. I sat at the window and watched +the road till I knew the shape of every tree and housetop, every ragged +branch of the hawthorn-bushes in the hedge. At last--it was the third +day after you went away--I heard carriage-wheels, that slackened as +they came to the inn. A fly stopped at the door, and oh, Edward, I did +not wait to see who was in it,--I never imagined the possibility of its +bringing anybody but you. I ran down-stairs, with my heart beating so +that I could hardly breathe; and I scarcely felt the stairs under my +feet. But when I got to the door--O my love, my love!--I cannot bear to +think of it; I cannot endure the recollection of it--" + +She stopped, gasping for breath, and clinging to her husband; and then, +with an effort, went on again: + +"Yes; I will tell you, dear; I must tell you. My cousin Paul and my +stepmother were standing in the little hall at the foot of the stairs. +I think I fainted in my stepmother's arms; and when my consciousness +came back, I was in our sitting-room,--the pretty rustic room, Edward, +in which you and I had been so happy together. + +"I must not stop to tell you everything. It would take me so long to +speak of all that happened in that miserable time. I knew that +something must be wrong, from my cousin Paul's manner; but neither he +nor my stepmother would tell me what it was. I asked them if you were +dead; but they said, 'No, you were not dead.' Still I could see that +something dreadful had happened. But by-and-by, by accident, I saw your +name in a newspaper that was lying on the table with Paul's hat and +gloves. I saw the description of an accident on the railway, by which I +knew you had travelled. My heart sank at once, and I think I guessed +all that had happened. I read your name amongst those of the people who +had been dangerously hurt. Paul shook his head when I asked him if +there was any hope. + +"They brought me back here. I scarcely know how I came, how I endured +all that misery. I implored them to let me come to you, again and +again, on my knees at their feet. But neither of them would listen to +me. It was impossible, Paul said. He always seemed very, very kind to +me; always spoke softly; always told me that he pitied me, and was +sorry for me. But though my stepmother looked sternly at me, and spoke, +as she always used to speak, in a harsh, cold voice, I sometimes think +she might have given way at last and let me come to you, but for +him--but for my cousin Paul. He could look at me with a smile upon his +face when I was almost mad with my misery; and he never wavered; he +never hesitated. + +"So they took me back to the Towers. I let them take me; for I scarcely +felt my sorrow any longer. I only felt tired; oh, so dreadfully tired; +and I wanted to lie down upon the ground in some quiet place, where no +one could come near me. I thought that I was dying. I believe I was +very ill when we got back to the Towers. My stepmother and Barbara +Simmons watched by my bedside, day after day, night after night. +Sometimes I knew them; sometimes I had all sorts of fancies. And +often--ah, how often, darling!--I thought that you were with me. My +cousin Paul came every day, and stood by my bedside. I can't tell you +how hateful it was to me to have him there. He used to come into the +room as silently as if he had been walking upon snow; but however +noiselessly he came, however fast asleep I was when he entered the +room, I always knew that he was there, standing by my bedside, smiling +at me. I always woke with a shuddering horror thrilling through my +veins, as if a rat had run across my face. + +"By-and-by, when the delirium was quite gone, I felt ashamed of myself +for this. It seemed so wicked to feel this unreasonable antipathy to my +dear father's cousin; but he had brought me bad news of you, Edward, +and it was scarcely strange that I should hate him. One day he sat down +by my bedside, when I was getting better, and was strong enough to +talk. There was no one besides ourselves in the room, except my +stepmother, and she was standing at the window, with her head turned +away from us, looking out. My cousin Paul sat down by the bedside, and +began to talk to me in that gentle, compassionate way that used to +torture me and irritate me in spite of myself. + +"He asked me what had happened to me after my leaving the Towers on the +day after the ball. + +"I told him everything, Edward--about your coming to me in Oakley +Street; about our marriage. But, oh, my darling, my husband, he +wouldn't believe me; he wouldn't believe. Nothing that I could say +would make him believe me. Though I swore to him again and again--by my +dead father in heaven, as I hoped for the mercy of my God--that I had +spoken the truth, and the truth only, he wouldn't believe me; he +wouldn't believe. He shook his head, and said he scarcely wondered I +should try to deceive him; that it was a very sad story, a very +miserable and shameful story, and my attempted falsehood was little +more than natural. + +"And then he spoke against you, Edward--against you. He talked of my +childish ignorance, my confiding love, and your villany. O Edward, he +said such shameful things; such shameful, horrible things! You had +plotted to become master of my fortune; to get me into your power, +because of my money; and you had not married me. You had _not_ married +me; he persisted in saying that. + +"I was delirious again after this; almost mad, I think. All through the +delirium I kept telling my cousin Paul of our marriage. Though he was +very seldom in the room, I constantly thought that he was there, and +told him the same thing--the same thing--till my brain was on fire. I +don't know how long it lasted. I know that, once in the middle of the +night, I saw my stepmother lying upon the ground, sobbing aloud and +crying out about her wickedness; crying out that God would never +forgive her sin. + +"I got better at last, and then I went downstairs; and I used to sit +sometimes in poor papa's study. The blind was always down, and none of +the servants, except Barbara Simmons, ever came into the room. My +cousin Paul did not live at the Towers; but he came there every day, +and often stayed there all day. He seemed the master of the house. My +stepmother obeyed him in everything, and consulted him about +everything. + +"Sometimes Mrs. Weston came. She was like her brother. She always +smiled at me with a grave compassionate smile, just like his; and she +always seemed to pity me. But she wouldn't believe in my marriage. She +spoke cruelly about you, Edward; cruelly, but in soft words, that +seemed only spoken out of compassion for me. No one would believe in my +marriage. + +"No stranger was allowed to see me. I was never suffered to go out. +They treated me as if I was some shameful creature, who must be hidden +away from the sight of the world. + +"One day I entreated my cousin Paul to go to London and see Mrs. +Pimpernel. She would be able to tell him of our marriage. I had +forgotten the name of the clergyman who married us, and the church at +which we were married. And I could not tell Paul those; but I gave him +Mrs. Pimpernel's address. And I wrote to her, begging her to tell my +cousin, all about my marriage; and I gave him the note unsealed. + +"He went to London about a week afterwards; and when he came back, he +brought me my note. He had been to Oakley Street, he said; but Mrs. +Pimpernel had left the neighbourhood, and no one knew where she was +gone." + +"A lie! a villanous lie!" muttered Edward Arundel. "Oh, the scoundrel! +the infernal scoundrel!" + +"No words would ever tell the misery of that time; the bitter anguish; +the unendurable suspense. When I asked them about you, they would tell +me nothing. Sometimes I thought that you had forgotten me; that you had +only married me out of pity for my loneliness; and that you were glad +to be freed from me. Oh, forgive me, Edward, for that wicked thought; +but I was so very miserable, so utterly desolate. At other times I +fancied that you were very ill, helpless, and unable to come to me. I +dared not think that you were dead. I put away that thought from me +with all my might; but it haunted me day and night. It was with me +always like a ghost. I tried to shut it away from my sight; but I knew +that it was there. + +"The days were all alike,--long, dreary, and desolate; so I scarcely +know how the time went. My stepmother brought me religious books, and +told me to read them; but they were hard, difficult books, and I +couldn't find one word of comfort in them. They must have been written +to frighten very obstinate and wicked people, I think. The only book +that ever gave me any comfort, was that dear Book I used to read to +papa on a Sunday evening in Oakley Street. I read that, Edward, in +those miserable days; I read the story of the widow's only son who was +raised up from the dead because his mother was so wretched without him. +I read that sweet, tender story again and again, until I used to see +the funeral train, the pale, still face upon the bier, the white, +uplifted hand, and that sublime and lovely countenance, whose image +always comes to us when we are most miserable, the tremulous light upon +the golden hair, and in the distance the glimmering columns of white +temples, the palm-trees standing out against the purple Eastern sky. I +thought that He who raised up a miserable woman's son chiefly because +he was her only son, and she was desolate without him, would have more +pity upon me than the God in Olivia's books: and I prayed to Him, +Edward, night and day, imploring Him to bring you back to me. + +"I don't know what day it was, except that it was autumn, and the dead +leaves were blowing about in the quadrangle, when my stepmother sent +for me one afternoon to my room, where I was sitting, not reading, not +even thinking--only sitting with my head upon my hands, staring +stupidly out at the drifting leaves and the gray, cold sky. My +stepmother was in papa's study; and I was to go to her there. I went, +and found her standing there, with a letter crumpled up in her clenched +hand, and a slip of newspaper lying on the table before her. She was as +white as death, and she was trembling violently from head to foot. + +"'See,' she said, pointing to the paper; 'your lover is dead. But for +you he would have received the letter that told him of his father's +illness upon an earlier day; he would have gone to Devonshire by a +different train. It was by your doing that he travelled when he did. If +this is true, and he is dead, his blood be upon your head; his blood be +upon your head!' + +"I think her cruel words were almost exactly those. I did not hope for +a minute that those horrible lines in the newspaper were false. I +thought they must be true, and I was mad, Edward--I was mad; for utter +despair came to me with the knowledge of your death. I went to my own +room, and put on my bonnet and shawl; and then I went out of the house, +down into that dreary wood, and along the narrow pathway by the +river-side. I wanted to drown myself; but the sight of the black water +filled me with a shuddering horror. I was frightened, Edward; and I +went on by the river, scarcely knowing where I was going, until it was +quite dark; and I was tired, and sat down upon the damp ground by the +brink of the river, all amongst the broad green flags and the wet +rushes. I sat there for hours, and I saw the stars shining feebly in a +dark sky. I think I was delirious, for sometimes I knew that I was +there by the water side, and then the next minute I thought that I was +in my bedroom at the Towers; sometimes I fancied that I was with you in +the meadows near Winchester, and the sun was shining, and you were +sitting by my side, and I could see your float dancing up and down in +the sunlit water. At last, after I had been there a very, very long +time, two people came with a lantern, a man and a woman; and I heard a +startled voice say, 'Here she is; here, lying on the ground!' And then +another voice, a woman's voice, very low and frightened, said, 'Alive!' +And then two people lifted me up; the man carried me in his arms, and +the woman took the lantern. I couldn't speak to them; but I knew that +they were my cousin Paul and his sister, Mrs. Weston. I remember being +carried some distance in Paul's arms; and then I think I must have +fainted away, for I can recollect nothing more until I woke up one day +and found myself lying in a bed in the pavilion over the boat-house, +with Mr. Weston watching by my bedside. + +"I don't know how the time passed; I only know that it seemed endless. +I think my illness was rheumatic fever, caught by lying on the damp +ground nearly all that night when I ran away from the Towers. A long +time went by--there was frost and snow. I saw the river once out of the +window when I was lifted out of bed for an hour or two, and it was +frozen; and once at midnight I heard the Kemberling church-bells +ringing in the New Year. I was very ill, but I had no doctor; and all +that time I saw no one but my cousin Paul, and Lavinia Weston, and a +servant called Betsy, a rough country girl, who took care of me when my +cousins were away. They were kind to me, and took great care of me." + +"You did not see Olivia, then, all this time?" Edward asked eagerly. + +"No; I did not see my stepmother till some time after the New Year +began. She came in suddenly one evening, when Mrs. Weston was with me, +and at first she seemed frightened at seeing me. She spoke to me kindly +afterwards, but in a strange, terror-stricken voice; and she laid her +head down upon the counterpane of the bed, and sobbed aloud; and then +Paul took her away, and spoke to her cruelly, very cruelly--taunting +her with her love for you. I never understood till then why she hated +me: but I pitied her after that; yes, Edward, miserable as I was, I +pitied her, because you had never loved her. In all my wretchedness I +was happier than her; for you had loved me, Edward--you had loved me!" + +Mary lifted her face to her husband's lips, and those dear lips were +pressed tenderly upon her pale forehead. + +"O my love, my love!" the young man murmured; "my poor suffering angel! +Can God ever forgive these people for their cruelty to you? But, my +darling, why did you make no effort to escape?" + +"I was too ill to move; I believed that I was dying." + +"But afterwards, darling, when you were better, stronger,--did you make +no effort then to escape from your persecutors?" + +Mary shook her head mournfully. + +"Why should I try to escape from them?" she said. "What was there for +me beyond that place? It was as well for me to be there as anywhere +else. I thought you were dead, Edward; I thought you were dead, and +life held nothing more for me. I could do nothing but wait till He who +raised the widow's son should have pity upon me, and take me to the +heaven where I thought you and papa had gone before me. I didn't want +to go away from those dreary rooms over the boat-house. What did it +matter to me whether I was there or at Marchmont Towers? I thought you +were dead, and all the glories and grandeurs of the world were nothing +to me. Nobody ill-treated me; I was let alone. Mrs. Weston told me that +it was for my own sake they kept me hidden from everybody about the +Towers. I was a poor disgraced girl, she told me; and it was best for +me to stop quietly in the pavilion till people had got tired of talking +of me, and then my cousin Paul would take me away to the Continent, +where no one would know who I was. She told me that the honour of my +father's name, and of my family altogether, would be saved by this +means. I replied that I had brought no dishonour on my dear father's +name; but she only shook her head mournfully, and I was too weak to +dispute with her. What did it matter? I thought you were dead, and that +the world was finished for me. I sat day after day by the window; not +looking out, for there was a Venetian blind that my cousin Paul had +nailed down to the window-sill, and I could only see glimpses of the +water through the long, narrow openings between the laths. I used to +sit there listening to the moaning of the wind amongst the trees, or +the sounds of horses' feet upon the towing-path, or the rain dripping +into the river upon wet days. I think that even in my deepest misery +God was good to me, for my mind sank into a dull apathy, and I seemed +to lose even the capacity of suffering. + +"One day,--one day in March, when the wind was howling, and the smoke +blew down the narrow chimney and filled the room,--Mrs. Weston brought +her husband, and he talked to me a little, and then talked to his wife +in whispers. He seemed terribly frightened, and he trembled all the +time, and kept saying, 'Poor thing; poor young woman!' but his wife was +cross to him, and wouldn't let him stop long in the room. After that, +Mr. Weston came very often, always with Lavinia, who seemed cleverer +than he was, even as a doctor; for she dictated to him, and ordered him +about in everything. Then, by-and-by, when the birds were singing, and +the warm sunshine came into the room, my baby was born, Edward; my baby +was born. I thought that God, who raised the widow's son, had heard my +prayer, and had raised you up from the dead; for the baby's eyes were +like yours, and I used to think sometimes that your soul was looking +out of them and comforting me. + +"Do you remember that poor foolish German woman who believed that the +spirit of a dead king came to her in the shape of a blackbird? She was +not a good woman, I know, dear; but she must have loved the king very +truly, or she never could have believed anything so foolish. I don't +believe in people's love when they love 'wisely,' Edward: the truest +love is that which loves 'too well.' + +"From the time of my baby's birth everything was changed. I was more +miserable, perhaps, because that dull, dead apathy cleared away, and my +memory came back, and I thought of you, dear, and cried over my little +angel's face as he slept. But I wasn't alone any longer. The world +seemed narrowed into the little circle round my darling's cradle. I +don't think he is like other babies, Edward. I think he has known of my +sorrow from the very first, and has tried in his mute way to comfort +me. The God who worked so many miracles, all separate tokens of His +love and tenderness and pity for the sorrows of mankind, could easily +make my baby different from other children, for a wretched mother's +consolation. + +"In the autumn after my darling's birth, Paul and his sister came for +me one night, and took me away from the pavilion by the water to a +deserted farmhouse, where there was a woman to wait upon me and take +care of me. She was not unkind to me, but she was rather neglectful of +me. I did not mind that, for I wanted nothing except to be alone with +my precious boy--your son, Edward; your son. The woman let me walk in +the garden sometimes. It was a neglected garden, but there were bright +flowers growing wild, and when the spring came again my pet used to lie +on the grass and play with the buttercups and daisies that I threw into +his lap; and I think we were both of us happier and better than we had +been in those two close rooms over the boat-house. + +"I have told you all now, Edward, all except what happened this +morning, when my stepmother and Hester Jobson came into my room in the +early daybreak, and told me that I had been deceived, and that you were +alive. My stepmother threw herself upon her knees at my feet, and asked +me to forgive her, for she was a miserable sinner, she said, who had +been abandoned by God; and I forgave her, Edward, and kissed her; and +you must forgive her too, dear, for I know that she has been very, very +wretched. And she took the baby in her arms, and kissed him,--oh, so +passionately!--and cried over him. And then they brought me here in Mr. +Jobson's cart, for Mr. Jobson was with them, and Hester held me in her +arms all the time. And then, darling, then after a long time you came +to me." + +Edward put his arms round his wife, and kissed her once more. "We will +never speak of this again, darling," he said. "I know all now; I +understand it all. I will never again distress you by speaking of your +cruel wrongs." + +"And you will forgive Olivia, dear?" + +"Yes, my pet, I will forgive--Olivia." + +He said no more, for there was a footstep on the stair, and a glimmer +of light shone through the crevices of the door. Hester Jobson came +into the room with a pair of lighted wax-candles, in white +crockery-ware candlesticks. But Hester was not alone; close behind her +came a lady in a rustling silk gown, a tall matronly lady, who cried +out,-- + +"Where is she, Edward? Where is she? Let me see this poor ill-used +child." + +It was Mrs. Arundel, who had come to Kemberling to see her newly-found +daughter-in-law. + +"Oh, my dear mother," cried the young man, "how good of you to come! +Now, Mary, you need never again know what it is to want a protector, a +tender womanly protector, who will shelter you from every harm." + +Mary got up and went to Mrs. Arundel, who opened her arms to receive +her son's young wife. But before she folded Mary to her friendly +breast, she took the girl's two hands in hers, and looked earnestly at +her pale, wasted face. + +She gave a long sigh as she contemplated those wan features, the +shining light in the eyes, that looked unnaturally large by reason of +the girl's hollow cheeks. + +"Oh, my dear," cried Mrs. Arundel, "my poor long-suffering child, how +cruelly they have treated you!" + +Edward looked at his mother, frightened by the earnestness of her +manner; but she smiled at him with a bright, reassuring look. + +"I shall take you home to Dangerfield with me, my poor love," she said +to Mary; "and I shall nurse you, and make you as plump as a partridge, +my poor wasted pet. And I'll be a mother to you, my motherless child. +Oh, to think that there should be any wretch vile enough to--But I +won't agitate you, my dear. I'll take you away from this bleak horrid +county by the first train to-morrow morning, and you shall sleep +to-morrow night in the blue bedroom at Dangerfield, with the roses and +myrtles waving against your window; and Edward shall go with us, and +you shan't come back here till you are well and strong; and you'll try +and love me, won't you, dear? And, oh, Edward, I've seen the boy! and +he's a _superb_ creature, the very _image_ of what you were at a +twelvemonth old; and he came to me, and smiled at me, almost as if he +knew I was his grandmother; and he has got FIVE teeth, but I'm _sorry_ +to tell you he's cutting them crossways, the top first instead of the +bottom, Hester says." + +"And Belinda, mother dear?" Edward said presently, in a grave +undertone. + +"Belinda is an angel," Mrs. Arundel answered, quite as gravely. "She +has been in her own room all day, and no one has seen her but her +mother; but she came down to the hall as I was leaving the house this +evening, and said to me, 'Dear Mrs. Arundel, tell him that he must not +think I am so selfish as to be sorry for what has happened. Tell him +that I am very glad to think his young wife has been saved.' She put +her hand up to my lips to stop my speaking, and then went back again to +her room; and if that isn't acting like an angel, I don't know what +is." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +"ALL WITHIN IS DARK AS NIGHT." + + +Paul Marchmont did not leave Stony-Stringford Farmhouse till dusk upon +that bright summer's day; and the friendly twilight is slow to come in +the early days of July, however a man may loathe the sunshine. Paul +Marchmont stopped at the deserted farmhouse, wandering in and out of +the empty rooms, strolling listlessly about the neglected garden, or +coming to a dead stop sometimes, and standing stock-still for ten +minutes at a time, staring at the wall before him, and counting the +slimy traces of the snails upon the branches of a plum-tree, or the +flies in a spider's web. Paul Marchmont was afraid to leave that lonely +farmhouse. He was afraid as yet. He scarcely knew what he feared, for a +kind of stupor had succeeded the violent emotions of the past few +hours; and the time slipped by him, and his brain grew bewildered when +he tried to realise his position. + +It was very difficult for him to do this. The calamity that had come +upon him was a calamity that he had never anticipated. He was a clever +man, and he had put his trust in his own cleverness. He had never +expected to be _found out_. + +Until this hour everything had been in his favour. His dupes and +victims had played into his hands. Mary's grief, which had rendered her +a passive creature, utterly indifferent to her own fate,--her peculiar +education, which had taught her everything except knowledge of the +world in which she was to live,--had enabled Paul Marchmont to carry +out a scheme so infamous and daring that it was beyond the suspicion of +honest men, almost too base for the comprehension of ordinary villains. + +He had never expected to be found out. All his plans had been +deliberately and carefully prepared. Immediately after Edward's +marriage and safe departure for the Continent, Paul had intended to +convey Mary and the child, with the grim attendant whom he had engaged +for them, far away, to one of the remotest villages in Wales. + +Alone he would have done this; travelling by night, and trusting no +one; for the hired attendant knew nothing of Mary's real position. She +had been told that the girl was a poor relation of Paul's, and that her +story was a very sorrowful one. If the poor creature had strange +fancies and delusions, it was no more than might be expected; for she +had suffered enough to turn a stronger brain than her own. Everything +had been arranged, and so cleverly arranged, that Mary and the child +would disappear after dusk one summer's evening, and not even Lavinia +Weston would be told whither they had gone. + +Paul had never expected to be found out. But he had least of all +expected betrayal from the quarter whence it had come. He had made +Olivia his tool; but he had acted cautiously even with her. He had +confided nothing to her; and although she had suspected some foul play +in the matter of Mary's disappearance, she had been certain of nothing. +She had uttered no falsehood when she swore to Edward Arundel that she +did not know where his wife was. But for her accidental discovery of +the secret of the pavilion, she would never have known of Mary's +existence after that October afternoon on which the girl left Marchmont +Towers. + +But here Paul had been betrayed by the carelessness of the hired girl +who acted as Mary Arundel's gaoler and attendant. It was Olivia's habit +to wander often in that dreary wood by the water during the winter in +which Mary was kept prisoner in the pavilion over the boat-house. +Lavinia Weston and Paul Marchmont spent each of them a great deal of +their time in the pavilion; but they could not be always on guard +there. There was the world to be hoodwinked; and the surgeon's wife had +to perform all her duties as a matron before the face of Kemberling, +and had to give some plausible account of her frequent visits to the +boat-house. Paul liked the place for his painting, Mrs. Weston informed +her friends; and he was _so_ enthusiastic in his love of art, that it +was really a pleasure to participate in his enthusiasm; so she liked to +sit with him, and talk to him or read to him while he painted. This +explanation was quite enough for Kemberling; and Mrs. Weston went to +the pavilion at Marchmont Towers three or four times a week without +causing any scandal thereby. + +But however well you may manage things yourself, it is not always easy +to secure the careful co-operation of the people you employ. Betsy +Murrel was a stupid, narrow-minded young person, who was very safe so +far as regarded the possibility of any sympathy with, or compassion +for, Mary Arundel arising in her stolid nature; but the stupid +stolidity which made her safe in one way rendered her dangerous in +another. One day, while Mrs. Weston was with the hapless young +prisoner, Miss Murrel went out upon the water-side to converse with a +good-looking young bargeman, who was a connexion of her family, and +perhaps an admirer of the young lady herself; and the door of the +painting-room being left wide open, Olivia Marchmont wandered +listlessly into the pavilion--there was a dismal fascination for her in +that spot, on which she had heard Edward Arundel declare his love for +John Marchmont's daughter--and heard Mary's voice in the chamber at the +top of the stone steps. + +This was how Olivia had surprised Paul's secret; and from that hour it +had been the artist's business to rule this woman by the only weapon +which he possessed against her,--her own secret, her own weak folly, +her mad love of Edward Arundel and jealous hatred of the woman whom he +had loved. This weapon was a very powerful one, and Paul used it +unsparingly. + +When the woman who, for seven-and-twenty years of her life, had lived +without sin; who from the hour in which she had been old enough to know +right from wrong, until Edward Arundel's second return from India, had +sternly done her duty,--when this woman, who little by little had +slipped away from her high standing-point and sunk down into a morass +of sin; when this woman remonstrated with Mr. Marchmont, he turned upon +her and lashed her with the scourge of her own folly. + +"You come and upbraid me," he said, "and you call me villain and +arch-traitor, and say that you cannot abide this, your sin; and that +your guilt, in keeping our secret, cries to you in the dead hours of +the night; and you call upon me to undo what I have done, and to +restore Mary Marchmont to her rights. Do you remember what her highest +right is? Do you remember that which I must restore to her when I give +her back this house and the income that goes along with it? If I +restore Marchmont Towers, I must restore to her _Edward Arundel's +love!_ You have forgotten that, perhaps. If she ever re-enters this +house, she will come back to it leaning on his arm. You will see them +together--you will hear of their happiness; and do you think that _he_ +will ever forgive you for your part of the conspiracy? Yes, it is a +conspiracy, if you like; if you are not afraid to call it by a hard +name, why should I fear to do so? Will he ever forgive you, do you +think, when he knows that his young wife has been the victim of a +senseless, vicious love? Yes, Olivia Marchmont; any love is vicious +which is given unsought, and is so strong a passion, so blind and +unreasoning a folly, that honour, mercy, truth, and Christianity are +trampled down before it. How will you endure Edward Arundel's contempt +for you? How will you tolerate his love for Mary, multiplied twentyfold +by all this romantic business of separation and persecution? + +"You talk to me of my sin. Who was it who first sinned? Who was it who +drove Mary Marchmont from this house,--not once only, but twice, by her +cruelty? Who was it who persecuted her and tortured her day by day and +hour by hour, not openly, not with an uplifted hand or blows that could +be warded off, but by cruel hints and inuendoes, by unwomanly sneers +and hellish taunts? Look into your heart, Olivia Marchmont; and when +you make atonement for your sin, I will make restitution for mine. In +the meantime, if this business is painful to you, the way lies open +before you: go and take Edward Arundel to the pavilion yonder, and give +him back his wife; give the lie to all your past life, and restore +these devoted young lovers to each other's arms." + +This weapon never failed in its effect. Olivia Marchmont might loathe +herself, and her sin, and her life, which was made hideous to her +because of her sin; but she _could_ not bring herself to restore Mary +to her lover-husband; she could not tolerate the idea of their +happiness. Every night she grovelled on her knees, and swore to her +offended God that she would do this thing, she would render this +sacrifice of atonement; but every morning, when her weary eyes opened +on the hateful sunlight, she cried, "Not to-day--not to-day." + +Again and again, during Edward Arundel's residence at Kemberling +Retreat, she had set out from Marchmont Towers with the intention of +revealing to him the place where his young wife was hidden; but, again +and again, she had turned back and left her work undone. She _could_ +not--she could not. In the dead of the night, under pouring rain, with +the bleak winds of winter blowing in her face, she had set out upon +that unfinished journey, only to stop midway, and cry out, "No, no, +no--not to-night; I cannot endure it yet!" + +It was only when another and a fiercer jealousy was awakened in this +woman's breast, that she arose all at once, strong, resolute, and +undaunted, to do the work she had so miserably deferred. As one poison +is said to neutralise the evil power of another, so Olivia Marchmont's +jealousy of Belinda seemed to blot out and extinguish her hatred of +Mary. Better anything than that Edward Arundel should have a new, and +perhaps a fairer, bride. The jealous woman had always looked upon Mary +Marchmont as a despicable rival. Better that Edward should be tied to +this girl, than that he should rejoice in the smiles of a lovelier +woman, worthier of his affection. _This_ was the feeling paramount in +Olivia's breast, although she was herself half unconscious how entirely +this was the motive power which had given her new strength and +resolution. She tried to think that it was the awakening of her +conscience that had made her strong enough to do this one good work; +but in the semi-darkness of her own mind there was still a feeble +glimmer of the light of truth, and it was this that had prompted her to +cry out on her knees before the altar in Hillingsworth church, and +declare the sinfulness of her nature. + + * * * * * + +Paul Marchmont stopped several times before the ragged, untrimmed +fruit-trees in his purposeless wanderings in the neglected garden at +Stony Stringford, before the vaporous confusion cleared away from his +brain, and he was able to understand what had happened to him. + +His first reasonable action was to take out his watch; but even then he +stood for some moments staring at the dial before he remembered why he +had taken the watch from his pocket, or what it was that he wanted to +know. By Mr. Marchmont's chronometer it was ten minutes past seven +o'clock; but the watch had been unwound upon the previous night, and +had run down. Paul put it back in his waistcoat-pocket, and then walked +slowly along the weedy pathway to that low latticed window in which he +had often seen Mary Arundel standing with her child in her arms. He +went to this window and looked in, with his face against the glass. The +room was neat and orderly now; for the woman whom Mr. Marchmont had +hired had gone about her work as usual, and was in the act of filling a +little brown earthenware teapot from a kettle on the hob when Paul +stared in at her. + +She looked up as Mr. Marchmont's figure came between her and the light, +and nearly dropped the little brown teapot in her terror of her +offended employer. + +But Paul pulled open the window, and spoke to her very quietly. "Stop +where you are," he said; "I want to speak to you. I'll come in." + +He went into the house by a door, that had once been the front and +principal entrance, which opened into a low wainscoted hall. From this +room he went into the parlour, which had been Mary Arundel's apartment, +and in which the hired nurse was now preparing her breakfast. "I +thought I might as well get a cup of tea, sir, whiles I waited for your +orders," the woman murmured, apologetically; "for bein' knocked up so +early this morning, you see, sir, has made my head _that_ bad, I could +scarcely bear myself; and----" + +Paul lifted his hand to stop the woman's talk, as he had done before. +He had no consciousness of what she was saying, but the sound of her +voice pained him. His eyebrows contracted with a spasmodic action, as +if something had hurt his head. + +There was a Dutch clock in the corner of the room, with a long pendulum +swinging against the wall. By this clock it was half-past eight. + +"Is your clock right?" Paul asked. + +"Yes, sir. Leastways, it may be five minutes too slow, but not more." + +Mr. Marchmont took out his watch, wound it up, and regulated it by the +Dutch clock. + +"Now," he said, "perhaps you can tell me clearly what happened. I want +no excuses, remember; I only want to know what occurred, and what was +said--word for word, remember." + +He sat down but got up again directly, and walked to the window; then +he paced up and down the room two or three times, and then went back to +the fireplace and sat down again. He was like a man who, in the racking +torture of some physical pain, finds a miserable relief in his own +restlessness. + +"Come," he said; "I am waiting." + +"Yes, sir; which, begging your parding, if you wouldn't mind sitting +still like, while I'm a-telling of you, which it do remind me of the +wild beastes in the Zoological, sir, to that degree, that the boil, to +which I am subjeck, sir, and have been from a child, might prevent me +bein' as truthful as I should wish. Mrs. Marchmont, sir, she come +before it was light, _in_ a cart, sir, which it was a shaycart, and +made comfortable with cushions and straw, and suchlike, or I should not +have let the young lady go away in it; and she bring with her a +respectable, homely-looking young person, which she call Hester Jobling +or Gobson, or somethink of that sound like, which my memory is +treechrous, and I don't wish to tell a story on no account; and Mrs. +Marchmont she go straight up to my young lady, and she shakes her by +the shoulder; and then the young woman called Hester, she wakes up my +young lady quite gentle like, and kisses her and cries over her; and a +man as drove the cart, which looked a small tradesman well-to-do, +brings his trap round to the front-door,--you may see the trax of the +wheels upon the gravel now, sir, if you disbelieve me. And Mrs. +Marchmont and the young woman called Hester, between 'em they gets my +young lady up, and dresses her, and dresses the child; and does it all +so quick, and overrides me to such a degree, that I hadn't no power to +prevent 'em; but I say to Mrs. Marchmont, I say: 'Is it Mr. Marchmont's +orders as his cousin should be took away this morning?' and she stare +at me hard, and say, 'Yes;' and she have allus an abrumpt way, but was +abrumpter than ordinary this morning. And, oh sir, bein' a poor lone +woman, what was I to do?" + +"Have you nothing more to tell me?" + +"Nothing, sir; leastways, except as they lifted my young lady into the +cart, and the man got in after 'em, and drove away as fast as his horse +would go; and they had been gone two minutes when I began to feel all +in a tremble like, for fear as I might have done wrong in lettin' of +'em go." + +"You have done wrong," Paul answered, sternly; "but no matter. If these +officious friends of my poor weak-witted cousin choose to take her +away, so much the better for me, who have been burdened with her long +enough. Since your charge has gone, your services are no longer wanted. +I shan't act illiberally to you, though I am very much annoyed by your +folly and stupidity. Is there anything due to you?" + +Mrs. Brown hesitated for a moment, and then replied, in a very +insinuating tone,-- + +"Not _wages_, sir; there ain't no _wages_ doo to me,--which you paid me +a quarter in advance last Saturday was a week, and took a receipt, sir, +for the amount. But I have done my dooty, sir, and had but little sleep +and rest, which my 'ealth ain't what it was when I answered your +advertisement, requirin' a respectable motherly person, to take charge +of a invalid lady, not objectin' to the country--which I freely tell +you, sir, if I'd known that the country was a rheumatic old place like +this, with rats enough to scare away a regyment of soldiers, I would +not have undertook the situation; so any present as you might think +sootable, considerin' all things, and----" + +"That will do," said Paul Marchmont, taking a handful of loose money +from his waistcoat pocket; "I suppose a ten-pound note would satisfy +you?" + +"Indeed it would, sir, and very liberal of you too----" + +"Very well. I've got a five-pound note here, and five sovereigns. The +best thing you can do is to get back to London at once; there's a train +leaves Milsome Station at eleven o'clock--Milsome's not more than a +mile and a half from here. You can get your things together; there's a +boy about the place who will carry them for you, I suppose?" + +"Yes, sir; there's a boy by the name of William." + +"He can go with you, then; and if you look sharp, you can catch the +eleven-o'clock train." + +"Yes, sir; and thank you kindly, sir." + +"I don't want any thanks. See that you don't miss the train; that's all +you have to take care of." + +Mr. Marchmont went out into the garden again. He had done something, at +any rate; he had arranged for getting this woman out of the way. + +If--if by any remote chance there might be yet a possibility of keeping +the secret of Mary's existence, here was one witness already got rid +of. + +But was there any chance? Mr. Marchmont sat down on a rickety old +garden-seat, and tried to think--tried to take a deliberate survey of +his position. + +No; there was no hope for him. Look which way he could, there was not +one ray of light. With George Weston and Olivia, Betsy Murrel the +servant-girl, and Hester Jobson to bear witness against him, what could +he hope? + +The surgeon would be able to declare that the child was Mary's son, her +legitimate son, sole heir to that estate of which Paul had taken +possession. + +There was no hope. There was no possibility that Olivia should waver in +her purpose; for had she not brought with her two witnesses--Hester +Jobson and her husband? + +From that moment the case was taken out of her hands. The honest +carpenter and his wife would see that Mary had her rights. + +"It will be a glorious speculation for them," thought Paul Marchmont, +who naturally measured other people's characters by a standard derived +from an accurate knowledge of his own. + +Yes, his ruin was complete. Destruction had come upon him, swift and +sudden as the caprice of a madwoman--or--the thunderbolt of an offended +Providence. What should he do? Run away, sneak away by back-lanes and +narrow footpaths to the nearest railway-station, hide himself in a +third-class carriage going Londonwards, and from London get away to +Liverpool, to creep on board some emigrant vessel bound for New York? + +He could not even do this, for he was without the means of getting so +much as the railway-ticket that should carry him on the first stage of +his flight. After having given ten pounds to Mrs. Brown, he had only a +few shillings in his waistcoat-pocket. He had only one article of any +great value about him, and that was his watch, which had cost fifty +pounds. But the Marchmont arms were emblazoned on the outside of the +case; and Paul's name in full, and the address of Marchmont Towers, +were ostentatiously engraved inside, so that any attempt to dispose of +the watch must inevitably lead to the identification of the owner. + +Paul Marchmont had made no provision for this evil day. Supreme in the +consciousness of his own talents, he had never imagined discovery and +destruction. His plans had been so well arranged. On the very day after +Edward's second marriage, Mary and her child would have been conveyed +away to the remotest district in Wales; and the artist would have +laughed at the idea of danger. The shallowest schemer might have been +able to manage this poor broken-hearted girl, whose many sorrows had +brought her to look upon life as a thing which was never meant to be +joyful, and which was only to be endured patiently, like some slow +disease that would be surely cured in the grave. It had been so easy to +deal with this ignorant and gentle victim that Paul had grown bold and +confident, and had ignored the possibility of such ruin as had now come +down upon him. + +What was he to do? What was the nature of his crime, and what penalty +had he incurred? He tried to answer these questions; but as his offence +was of no common kind, he knew of no common law which could apply to +it. Was it a felony, this appropriation of another person's property, +this concealment of another person's existence; or was it only a +conspiracy, amenable to no criminal law; and would he be called upon +merely to make restitution of that which he had spent and wasted? What +did it matter? Either way, there was nothing for him but +ruin--irretrievable ruin. + +There are some men who can survive discovery and defeat, and begin a +new life in a new world, and succeed in a new career. But Paul +Marchmont was not one of these. He could not stick a hunting-knife and +a brace of revolvers in his leathern belt, sling a game-bag across his +shoulders, take up his breech-loading rifle, and go out into the +backwoods of an uncivilised country, to turn sheep-breeder, and hold +his own against a race of agricultural savages. He was a Cockney, and +for him there was only one world--a world in which men wore varnished +boots and enamelled shirt-studs with portraits of La Montespan or La +Dubarry, and lived in chambers in the Albany, and treated each other to +little dinners at Greenwich and Richmond, or cut a grand figure at a +country-house, and collected a gallery of art and a museum of _bric a +brac_. This was the world upon the outer edge of which Paul Marchmont +had lived so long, looking in at the brilliant inhabitants with hungry, +yearning eyes through all the days of his poverty and obscurity. This +was the world into which he had pushed himself at last by means of a +crime. + +He was forty years of age; and in all his life he had never had but one +ambition,--and that was to be master of Marchmont Towers. The remote +chance of that inheritance had hung before him ever since his boyhood, +a glittering prize, far away in the distance, but so brilliant as to +blind him to the brightness of all nearer chances. Why should he slave +at his easel, and toil to become a great painter? When would art earn +him eleven thousand a year? The greatest painter of Mr. Marchmont's +time lived in a miserable lodging at Chelsea. It was before the days of +the "Railway Station" and the "Derby Day;" or perhaps Paul might have +made an effort to become that which Heaven never meant him to be--a +great painter. No; art was only a means of living with this man. He +painted, and sold his pictures to his few patrons, who beat him down +unmercifully, giving him a small profit upon his canvas and colours, +for the encouragement of native art; but he only painted to live. + +He was waiting. From the time when he could scarcely speak plain, +Marchmont Towers had been a familiar word in his ears and on his lips. +He knew the number of lives that stood between his father and the +estate, and had learned to say, naively enough then,-- + +"O pa, don't you wish that Uncle Philip and Uncle Marmaduke and Cousin +John would die soon?" + +He was two-and-twenty years of age when his father died; and he felt a +faint thrill of satisfaction, even in the midst of his sorrow, at the +thought that there was one life the less between him and the end of his +hopes. But other lives had sprung up in the interim. There was young +Arthur, and little Mary; and Marchmont Towers was like a caravanserai +in the desert, which seems to be farther and farther away as the weary +traveller strives to reach it. + +Still Paul hoped, and watched, and waited. He had all the instincts of +a sybarite, and he fancied, therefore, that he was destined to be a +rich man. He watched, and waited, and hoped, and cheered his mother and +sister when they were downcast with the hope of better days. When the +chance came, he seized upon it, and plotted, and succeeded, and +revelled in his brief success. + +But now ruin had come to him, what was he to do? He tried to make some +plan for his own conduct; but he could not. His brain reeled with the +effort which he made to realise his own position. + +He walked up and down one of the pathways in the garden until a quarter +to ten o'clock; then he went into the house, and waited till Mrs. Brown +had departed from Stony-Stringford Farm, attended by the boy, who +carried two bundles, a bandbox, and a carpet-bag. + +"Come back here when you have taken those things to the station," Paul +said; "I shall want you." + +He watched the dilapidated five-barred gate swing to after the +departure of Mrs. Brown and her attendant, and then went to look at his +horse. The patient animal had been standing in a shed all this time, +and had had neither food nor water. Paul searched amongst the empty +barns and outhouses, and found a few handfuls of fodder. He took this +to the animal, and then went back again to the garden,--to that quiet +garden, where the bees were buzzing about in the sunshine with a +drowsy, booming sound, and where a great tabby-cat was sleeping +stretched flat upon its side, on one of the flower-beds. + +Paul Marchmont waited here very impatiently till the boy came back. + +"I must see Lavinia," he thought. "I dare not leave this place till I +have seen Lavinia. I don't know what may be happening at Hillingsworth +or Kemberling. These things are taken up sometimes by the populace. +They may make a party against me; they may--" + +He stood still, gnawing the edges of his nails, and staring down at the +gravel-walk. + +He was thinking of things that he had read in the newspapers,--cases in +which some cruel mother who had illused her child, or some suspected +assassin who, in all human probability, had poisoned his wife, had been +well-nigh torn piecemeal by an infuriated mob, and had been glad to +cling for protection to the officers of justice, or to beg leave to +stay in prison after acquittal, for safe shelter from honest men and +women's indignation. + +He remembered one special case in which the populace, unable to get at +a man's person, tore down his house, and vented their fury upon +unsentient bricks and mortar. + +Mr. Marchmont took out a little memorandum book, and scrawled a few +lines in pencil: + +"I am here, at Stony-Stringford Farmhouse," he wrote. "For God's sake, +come to me, Lavinia, and at once; you can drive here yourself. I want +to know what has happened at Kemberling and at Hillingsworth. Find out +everything for me, and come. P. M." + +It was nearly twelve o'clock when the boy returned. Paul gave him this +letter, and told the lad to get on his own horse, and ride to +Kemberling as fast as he could go. He was to leave the horse at +Kemberling, in Mr. Weston's stable, and was to come back to +Stony-Stringford with Mrs. Weston. This order Paul particularly +impressed upon the boy, lest he should stop in Kemberling, and reveal +the secret of Paul's hiding-place. + +Mr. Paul Marchmont was afraid. A terrible sickening dread had taken +possession of him, and what little manliness there had ever been in his +nature seemed to have deserted him to-day. + +Oh, the long dreary hours of that miserable day! the hideous sunshine, +that scorched Mr. Marchmont's bare head, as he loitered about the +garden!--he had left his hat in the house; but he did not even know +that he was bareheaded. Oh, the misery of that long day of suspense and +anguish! The sick consciousness of utter defeat, the thought of the +things that he might have done, the purse that he might have made with +the money that he had lavished on pictures, and decorations, and +improvements, and the profligate extravagance of splendid +entertainments. This is what he thought of, and these were the thoughts +that tortured him. But in all that miserable day he never felt one pang +of remorse for the agonies that he had inflicted upon his innocent +victim; on the contrary, he hated her because of this discovery, and +gnashed his teeth as he thought how she and her young husband would +enjoy all the grandeur of Marchmont Towers,--all that noble revenue +which he had hoped to hold till his dying day. + +It was growing dusk when Mr. Marchmont heard the sound of wheels in the +dusty lane outside the garden-wall. He went through the house, and into +the farmyard, in time to receive his sister Lavinia at the gate. It was +the wheels of her pony-carriage he had heard. She drove a pair of +ponies, which Paul had given her. He was angry with himself as he +remembered that this was another piece of extravagance,--another sum of +money recklessly squandered, when it might have gone towards the making +of a rich provision for this evil day. + +Mrs. Weston was very pale; and her brother could see by her face that +she brought him no good news. She left her ponies to the care of the +boy, and went into the garden with her brother. + +"Well, Lavinia?" + +"Well, Paul, it is a dreadful business," Mrs. Weston said, in a low +voice. + +"It's all George's doing! It's all the work of that infernal +scoundrel!" cried Paul, passionately. "But he shall pay bitterly +for----" + +"Don't let us talk of him, Paul; no good can come of that. What are you +going to do?" + +"I don't know. I sent for you because I wanted your help and advice. +What's the good of your coming if you bring me no help?" + +"Don't be cruel, Paul. Heaven knows, I'll do my best. But I can't see +what's to be done--except for you to get away, Paul. Everything's +known. Olivia stopped the marriage publicly in Hillingsworth Church; +and all the Hillingsworth people followed Edward Arundel's carriage to +Kemberling. The report spread like wildfire; and, oh Paul, the +Kemberling people have taken it up, and our windows have been broken, +and there's been a crowd all day upon the terrace before the Towers, +and they've tried to get into the house, declaring that they know +you're hiding somewhere. Paul, Paul, what are we to do? The people +hooted after me as I drove away from the High Street, and the boys +threw stones at the ponies. Almost all the servants have left the +Towers. The constables have been up there trying to get the crowd off +the terrace. But what are we to do, Paul? what are we to do?" + +"Kill ourselves," answered the artist savagely. "What else should we +do? What have we to live for? You have a little money, I suppose; I +have none. Do you think I can go back to the old life? Do you think I +can go back, and live in that shabby house in Charlotte Street, and +paint the same rocks and boulders, the same long stretch of sea, the +same low lurid streaks of light,--all the old subjects over again,--for +the same starvation prices? Do you think I can ever tolerate shabby +clothes again, or miserable make-shift dinners,--hashed mutton, with +ill-cut hunks of lukewarm meat floating about in greasy slop called +gravy, and washed down with flat porter fetched half an hour too soon +from a public-house,--do you think I can go back to _that_? No; I have +tasted the wine of life: I have lived; and I'll never go back to the +living death called poverty. Do you think I can stand in that passage +in Charlotte Street again, Lavinia, to be bullied by an illiterate +tax-gatherer, or insulted by an infuriated baker? No, Lavinia; I have +made my venture, and I have failed." + +"But what will you do, Paul?" + +"I don't know," he answered, moodily. + +This was a lie. He knew well enough what he meant to do: he would kill +himself. + +That resolution inspired him with a desperate kind of courage. He would +escape from the mob; he would get away somewhere or other quietly and +there kill himself. He didn't know how, as yet; but he would deliberate +upon that point at his leisure, and choose the death that was supposed +to be least painful. + +"Where are my mother and Clarissa?" he asked presently. + +"They are at our house; they came to me directly they heard the rumour +of what had happened. I don't know how they heard it; but every one +heard of it, simultaneously, as it seemed. My mother is in a dreadful +state. I dared not tell her that I had known it all along." + +"Oh, of course not," answered Paul, with a sneer; "let me bear the +burden of my guilt alone. What did my mother say?" + +"She kept saying again and again, 'I can't believe it. I can't believe +that he could do anything cruel; he has been such a good son.'" + +"I was not cruel," Paul cried vehemently; "the girl had every comfort. +I never grudged money for her comfort. She was a miserable, apathetic +creature, to whom fortune was almost a burden rather than an advantage. +If I separated her from her husband--bah!--was that such a cruelty? She +was no worse off than if Edward Arundel had been killed in that railway +accident; and it might have been so." + +He didn't waste much time by reasoning on this point. He thought of his +mother and sisters. From first to last he had been a good son and a +good brother. + +"What money have you, Lavinia?" + +"A good deal; you have been very generous to me, Paul; and you shall +have it all back again, if you want it. I have got upwards of two +thousand pounds altogether; for I have been very careful of the money +you have given me." + +"You have been wise. Now listen to me, Lavinia. I _have_ been a good +son, and I have borne my burdens uncomplainingly. It is your turn now +to bear yours. I must get back to Marchmont Towers, if I can, and +gather together whatever personal property I have there. It isn't +much--only a few trinkets, and suchlike. You must send me some one you +can trust to fetch those to-night; for I shall not stay an hour in the +place. I may not even be admitted into it; for Edward Arundel may have +already taken possession in his wife's name. Then you will have to +decide where you are to go. You can't stay in this part of the country. +Weston must be liable to some penalty or other for his share in the +business, unless he's bought over as a witness to testify to the +identity of Mary's child. I haven't time to think of all this. I want +you to promise me that you will take care of your mother and your +invalid sister." + +"I will, Paul; I will indeed. But tell me what you are going to do +yourself, and where you are going?" + +"I don't know," Paul Marchmont answered, in the same tone as before; +"but whatever I do, I want you to give me your solemn promise that you +will be good to my mother and sister." + +"I will, Paul; I promise you to do as you have done." + +"You had better leave Kemberling by the first train to-morrow morning; +take my mother and Clarissa with you; take everything that is worth +taking, and leave Weston behind you to bear the brunt of this business. +You can get a lodging in the old neighbourhood, and no one will molest +you when you once get away from this place. But remember one thing, +Lavinia: if Mary Arundel's child should die, and Mary herself should +die childless, Clarissa will inherit Marchmont Towers. Don't forget +that. There's a chance yet for you: it's far away, and unlikely enough; +but it _is_ a chance." + +"But you are more likely to outlive Mary and her child than Clarissa +is," Mrs. Weston answered, with a feeble attempt at hopefulness; "try +and think of that, Paul, and let the hope cheer you." + +"Hope!" cried Mr. Marchmont, with a discordant laugh. "Yes; I'm forty +years old, and for five-and-thirty of those years I've hoped and waited +for Marchmont Towers. I can't hope any longer, or wait any longer. I +give it up; I've fought hard, but I'm beaten." + +It was nearly dark by this time, the shadowy darkness of a midsummer's +evening; and there were stars shining faintly out of the sky. + +"You can drive me back to the Towers," Paul Marchmont said. "I don't +want to lose any time in getting there; I may be locked out by Mr. +Edward Arundel if I don't take care." + +Mrs. Weston and her brother went back to the farmyard. It was sixteen +miles from Kemberling to Stony Stringford; and the ponies were +steaming, for Lavinia had come at a good rate. But it was no time for +the consideration of horseflesh. Paul took a rug from the empty seat, +and wrapped himself in it. He would not be likely to be recognised in +the darkness, sitting back in the low seat, and made bulky by the +ponderous covering in which he had enveloped himself. Mrs. Weston took +the whip from the boy, gathered up the reins, and drove off. Paul had +left no orders about the custody of the old farmhouse. The boy went +home to his master, at the other end of the farm; and the night-winds +wandered wherever they listed through the deserted habitation. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +THERE IS CONFUSION WORSE THAN DEATH. + + +The brother and sister exchanged very few words during the drive +between Stony Stringford and Marchmont Towers. It was arranged between +them that Mrs. Weston should drive by a back-way leading to a lane that +skirted the edge of the river, and that Paul should get out at a gate +opening into the wood, and by that means make his way, unobserved, to +the house which had so lately been to all intents and purposes his own. + +He dared not attempt to enter the Towers by any other way; for the +indignant populace might still be lurking about the front of the house, +eager to inflict summary vengeance upon the persecutor of a helpless +girl. + +It was between nine and ten o'clock when Mr. Marchmont got out at the +little gate. All here was very still; and Paul heard the croaking of +the frogs upon the margin of a little pool in the wood, and the sound +of horses' hoofs a mile away upon the loose gravel by the water-side. + +"Good night, Lavinia," he said. "Send for the things as soon as you go +back; and be sure you send a safe person for them." + +"O yes, dear; but hadn't you better take any thing of value yourself?" +Mrs. Weston asked anxiously. "You say you have no money. Perhaps it +would be best for you to send me the jewellery, though, and I can send +you what money you want by my messenger." + +"I shan't want any money--at least I have enough for what I want. What +have you done with your savings?" + +"They are in a London bank. But I have plenty of ready money in the +house. You must want money, Paul?" + +"I tell you, no; I have as much as I want." + +"But tell me your plans, Paul; I must know your plans before I leave +Lincolnshire myself. Are _you_ going away?" + +"Yes." + +"Immediately?" + +"Immediately." + +"Shall you go to London?" + +"Perhaps. I don't know yet." + +"But when shall we see you again, Paul? or how shall we hear of you?" + +"I'll write to you." + +"Where?" + +"At the Post-office in Rathbone Place. Don't bother me with a lot of +questions to-night Lavinia; I'm not in the humour to answer them." + +Paul Marchmont turned away from his sister impatiently, and opened the +gate; but before she had driven off, he went back to her. + +"Shake hands, Lavinia," he said; "shake hands, my dear; it may be a +long time before you and I meet again." + +He bent down and kissed his sister. + +"Drive home as fast as you can, and send the messenger directly. He had +better come to the door of the lobby, near Olivia's room. Where is +Olivia, by-the-bye? Is she still with the stepdaughter she loves so +dearly?" + +"No; she went to Swampington early in the afternoon. A fly was ordered +from the Black Bull, and she went away in it." + +"So much the better," answered Mr. Marchmont. "Good night, Lavinia. +Don't let my mother think ill of me. I tried to do the best I could to +make her happy. Good-bye." + +"Good-bye, dear Paul; God bless you!" + +The blessing was invoked with as much sincerity as if Lavinia Weston +had been a good woman, and her brother a good man. Perhaps neither of +those two was able to realise the extent of the crime which they had +assisted each other to commit. + +Mrs. Weston drove away; and Paul went up to the back of the Towers, and +under an archway leading into the quadrangle. All about the house was +as quiet as if the Sleeping Beauty and her court had been its only +occupants. + +The inhabitants of Kemberling and the neighbourhood were an orderly +people, who burnt few candles between May and September; and however +much they might have desired to avenge Mary Arundel's wrongs by tearing +Paul Marchmont to pieces, their patience had been exhausted by +nightfall, and they had been glad to return to their respective abodes, +to discuss Paul's iniquities comfortably over the nine-o'clock beer. + +Paul stood still in the quadrangle for a few moments, and listened. He +could hear no human breath or whisper; he only heard the sound of the +corn-crake in the fields to the right of the Towers, and the distant +rumbling of wagon-wheels on the high-road. There was a glimmer of light +in one of the windows belonging to the servants' offices,--only one dim +glimmer, where there had usually been a row of brilliantly-lighted +casements. Lavinia was right, then; almost all the servants had left +the Towers. Paul tried to open the half-glass door leading into the +lobby; but it was locked. He rang a bell; and after about three +minutes' delay, a buxom country-girl appeared in the lobby carrying a +candle. She was some kitchenmaid or dairymaid or scullerymaid, whom +Paul could not remember to have ever seen until now. She opened the +door, and admitted him, dropping a curtsey as he passed her. There was +some relief even in this. Mr. Marchmont had scarcely expected to get +into the house at all; still less to be received with common civility +by any of the servants, who had so lately obeyed him and fawned upon +him. + +"Where are all the rest of the servants?" he asked. + +"They're all gone, sir; except him as you brought down from +London,--Mr. Peterson,--and me and mother. Mother's in the laundry, +sir; and I'm scullerymaid." + +"Why did the other servants leave the place?" + +"Mostly because they was afraid of the mob upon the terrace, I think, +sir; for there's been people all the afternoon throwin' stones, and +breakin' the windows; and I don't think as there's a whole pane of +glass in the front of the house, sir; and Mr. Gormby, sir, he come +about four o'clock, and he got the people to go away, sir, by tellin' +'em as it wern't your property, sir, but the young lady's, Miss Mary +Marchmont,--leastways, Mrs. Airendale,--as they was destroyin' of; but +most of the servants had gone before that, sir, except Mr. Peterson; +and Mr. Gormby gave orders as me and mother was to lock all the doors, +and let no one in upon no account whatever; and he's coming to-morrow +mornin' to take possession, he says; and please, sir, you can't come +in; for his special orders to me and mother was, no one, and you in +particklar." + +"Nonsense, girl!" exclaimed Mr. Marchmont, decisively; "who is Mr. +Gormby, that he should give orders as to who comes in or stops out? I'm +only coming in for half an hour, to pack my portmanteau. Where's +Peterson?" + +"In the dinin'-room, sir; but please, sir, you mustn't----" + +The girl made a feeble effort to intercept Mr. Marchmont, in accordance +with the steward's special orders; which were, that Paul should, upon +no pretence whatever, be suffered to enter the house. But the artist +snatched the candlestick from her hand, and went towards the +dining-room, leaving her to stare after him in amazement. + +Paul found his valet Peterson, taking what he called a snack, in the +dining-room. A cloth was spread upon the corner of the table; and there +was a fore-quarter of cold roast-lamb, a bottle of French brandy, and a +decanter half-full of Madeira before the valet. + +He started as his master entered the room, and looked up, not very +respectfully, but with no unfriendly glance. + +"Give me half a tumbler of that brandy, Peterson," said Mr. Marchmont. + +The man obeyed; and Paul drained the fiery spirit as if it had been so +much water. It was four-and-twenty hours since meat or drink had +crossed his dry white lips. + +"Why didn't you go away with the rest?" he asked, as he set down the +empty glass. + +"It's only rats, sir, that run away from a falling house. I stopped, +thinkin' you'd be goin' away somewhere, and that you'd want me." + +The solid and unvarnished truth of the matter was, that Peterson had +taken it for granted that his master had made an excellent purse +against this evil day, and would be ready to start for the Continent or +America, there to lead a pleasant life upon the proceeds of his +iniquity. The valet never imagined his master guilty of such besotted +folly as to be _un_prepared for this catastrophe. + +"I thought you might still want me, sir," he said; "and wherever you're +going, I'm quite ready to go too. You've been a good master to me, sir; +and I don't want to leave a good master because things go against him." + +Paul Marchmont shook his head, and held out the empty tumbler for his +servant to pour more brandy into it. + +"I am going away," he said; "but I want no servant where I'm going; but +I'm grateful to you for your offer, Peterson. Will you come upstairs +with me? I want to pack a few things." + +"They're all packed, sir. I knew you'd be leaving, and I've packed +everything." + +"My dressing-case?" + +"Yes, sir. You've got the key of that." + +"Yes; I know, I know." + +Paul Marchmont was silent for a few minutes, thinking. Everything that +he had in the way of personal property of any value was in the +dressing-case of which he had spoken. There was five or six hundred +pounds' worth of jewellery in Mr. Marchmont's dressing-case; for the +first instinct of the _nouveau riche_ exhibits itself in diamond +shirt-studs, cameo rings, malachite death's-heads with emerald eyes; +grotesque and pleasing charms in the form of coffins, coal-scuttles, +and hobnailed boots; fantastical lockets of ruby and enamel; wonderful +bands of massive yellow gold, studded with diamonds, wherein to insert +the two ends of flimsy lace cravats. Mr. Marchmont reflected upon the +amount of his possessions, and their security in the jewel-drawer of +his dressing-case. The dressing-case was furnished with a Chubb's lock, +the key of which he carried in his waistcoat-pocket. Yes, it was all +safe. + +"Look here, Peterson," said Paul Marchmont; "I think I shall sleep at +Mrs. Weston's to-night. I should like you to take my dressing-case down +there at once." + +"And how about the other luggage, sir,--the portmanteaus and +hat-boxes?" + +"Never mind those. I want you to put the dressing-case safe in my +sister's hands. I can send here for the rest to-morrow morning. You +needn't wait for me now. I'll follow you in half an hour." + +"Yes, sir. You want the dressing-case carried to Mrs. Weston's house, +and I'm to wait for you there?" + +"Yes; you can wait for me." + +"But is there nothing else I can do, sir?" + +"Nothing whatever. I've only got to collect a few papers, and then I +shall follow you." + +"Yes, sir." + +The discreet Peterson bowed, and retired to fetch the dressing-case. He +put his own construction upon Mr. Marchmont's evident desire to get rid +of him, and to be left alone at the Towers. Paul had, of course, made a +purse, and had doubtless put his money away in some very artful +hiding-place, whence he now wanted to take it at his leisure. He had +stuffed one of his pillows with bank-notes, perhaps; or had hidden a +cash-box behind the tapestry in his bedchamber; or had buried a bag of +gold in the flower-garden below the terrace. Mr. Peterson went upstairs +to Paul's dressing-room, put his hand through the strap of the +dressing-case, which was very heavy, went downstairs again, met his +master in the hall, and went out at the lobby-door. + +Paul locked the door upon his valet, and then went back into the lonely +house, where the ticking of the clocks in the tenantless rooms sounded +unnaturally loud in the stillness. All the windows had been broken; and +though the shutters were shut, the cold night-air blew in at many a +crack and cranny, and well-nigh extinguished Mr. Marchmont's candle as +he went from room to room looking about him. + +He went into the western drawing-room, and lighted some of the lamps in +the principal chandelier. The shutters were shut, for the windows here, +as well as elsewhere, had been broken; fragments of shivered glass, +great jagged stones, and handfuls of gravel, lay about upon the rich +carpet,--the velvet-pile which he had chosen with such artistic taste, +such careful deliberation. He lit the lamps and walked about the room, +looking for the last time at his treasures. Yes, _his_ treasures. It +was he who had transformed this chamber from a prim, old-fashioned +sitting-room--with quaint japanned cabinets, shabby chintz-cushioned +cane-chairs, cracked Indian vases, and a faded carpet--into a saloon +that would have been no discredit to Buckingham Palace or Alton Towers. + +It was he who had made the place what it was. He had squandered the +savings of Mary's minority upon pictures that the richest collector in +England might have been proud to own; upon porcelain that would have +been worthy of a place in the Vienna Museum or the Bernal Collection. +He had done this, and these things were to pass into the possession of +the man he hated,--the fiery young soldier who had horsewhipped him +before the face of wondering Lincolnshire. He walked about the room, +thinking of his life since he had come into possession of this place, +and of what it had been before that time, and what it must be again, +unless he summoned up a desperate courage--and killed himself. + +His heart beat fast and loud, and he felt an icy chill creeping slowly +through his every vein as he thought of this. How was he to kill +himself? He had no poison in his possession,--no deadly drug that would +reduce the agony of death to the space of a lightning-flash. There were +pistols, rare gems of choicest workmanship, in one of the buhl-cabinets +in that very room; there were both fowling-piece and ammunition in Mr. +Marchmont's dressing-room: but the artist was not expert with the use +of firearms, and he might fail in the attempt to blow out his brains, +and only maim or disfigure himself hideously. There was the river,--the +black, sluggish river: but then, drowning is a slow death, and Heaven +only knows how long the agony may seem to the wretch who endures it! +Alas! the ghastly truth of the matter is that Mr. Marchmont was afraid +of death. Look at the King of Terrors how he would, he could not +discover any pleasing aspect under which he could meet the grim monarch +without flinching. + +He looked at life; but if life was less terrible than death, it was not +less dreary. He looked forward with a shudder to see--what? +Humiliation, disgrace, perhaps punishment,--life-long transportation, +it may be; for this base conspiracy might be a criminal offence, +amenable to criminal law. Or, escaping all this, what was there for +him? What was there for this man even then? For forty years he had been +steeped to the lips in poverty, and had endured his life. He looked +back now, and wondered how it was that he had been patient; he wondered +why he had not made an end of himself and his obscure troubles twenty +years before this night. But after looking back a little longer, he saw +the star which had illumined the darkness of that miserable and sordid +existence, and he understood the reason of his endurance. He had hoped. +Day after day he had got up to go through the same troubles, to endure +the same humiliations: but every day, when his life had been hardest to +him, he had said, "To-morrow I may be master of Marchmont Towers." But +he could never hope this any more; he could not go back to watch and +wait again, beguiled by the faint hope that Mary Arundel's son might +die, and to hear by-and-by that other children were born to her to +widen the great gulf betwixt him and fortune. + +He looked back, and he saw that he had lived from day to day, from year +to year, lured on by this one hope. He looked forward, and he saw that +he could not live without it. + +There had never been but this one road to good fortune open to him. He +was a clever man, but his was not the cleverness which can transmute +itself into solid cash. He could only paint indifferent pictures; and +he had existed long enough by picture-painting to realise the utter +hopelessness of success in that career. + +He had borne his life while he was in it, but he could not bear to go +back to it. He had been out of it, and had tasted another phase of +existence; and he could see it all now plainly, as if he had been a +spectator sitting in the boxes and watching a dreary play performed +upon a stage before him. The performers in the remotest provincial +theatre believe in the play they are acting. The omnipotence of passion +creates dewy groves and moonlit atmospheres, ducal robes and beautiful +women. But the metropolitan spectator, in whose mind the memory of +better things is still fresh, sees that the moonlit trees are poor +distemper daubs, pushed on by dirty carpenters, and the moon a green +bottle borrowed from a druggist's shop, the ducal robes threadbare +cotton velvet and tarnished tinsel, and the heroine of the drama old +and ugly. + +So Paul looked at the life he had endured, and wondered as he saw how +horrible it was. + +He could see the shabby lodging, the faded furniture, the miserable +handful of fire struggling with the smoke in a shallow grate, that had +been half-blocked up with bricks by some former tenant as badly off as +himself. He could look back at that dismal room, with the ugly paper on +the walls, the scanty curtains flapping in the wind which they +pretended to shut out; the figure of his mother sitting near the +fireplace, with that pale, anxious face, which was a perpetual +complaint against hardship and discomfort. He could see his sister +standing at the window in the dusky twilight, patching up some worn-out +garment, and straining her eyes for the sake of economising in the +matter of half an inch of candle. And the street below the window,--the +shabby-genteel street, with a dingy shop breaking out here and there, +and children playing on the doorsteps, and a muffin-bell jingling +through the evening fog, and a melancholy Italian grinding "Home, sweet +Home!" in the patch of lighted road opposite the pawnbroker's. He saw +it all; and it was all alike--sordid, miserable, hopeless. + +Paul Marchmont had never sunk so low as his cousin John. He had never +descended so far in the social scale as to carry a banner at Drury +Lane, or to live in one room in Oakley Street, Lambeth. But there had +been times when to pay the rent of three rooms had been next kin to an +impossibility to the artist, and when the honorarium of a shilling a +night would have been very acceptable to him. He had drained the cup of +poverty to the dregs; and now the cup was filled again, and the bitter +draught was pushed once more into his unwilling hand. + +He must drink that, or another potion,--a sleeping-draught, which is +commonly called Death. He must die! But how? His coward heart sank as +the awful alternative pressed closer upon him. He must +die!--to-night,--at once,--in that house; so that when they came in the +morning to eject him, they would have little trouble; they would only +have to carry out a corpse. + +He walked up and down the room, biting his finger-nails to the quick, +but coming to no resolution, until he was interrupted by the ringing of +the bell at the lobby-door. It was the messenger from his sister, no +doubt. Paul drew his watch from his waistcoat-pocket, unfastened his +chain, took a set of gold-studs from the breast of his shirt, and a +signet-ring from his finger; then he sat down at a writing-table, and +packed the watch and chain, the studs and signet-ring, and a bunch of +keys, in a large envelope. He sealed this packet, and addressed it to +his sister; then he took a candle, and went to the lobby. Mrs. Weston +had sent a young man who was an assistant and pupil of her husband's--a +good-tempered young fellow, who willingly served her in her hour of +trouble. Paul gave this messenger the key of his dressing-case and +packet. + +"You will be sure and put that in my sister's hands," he said. + +"O yes, sir. Mrs. Weston gave me this letter for you, sir. Am I to wait +for an answer?" + +"No; there will be no answer. Good night." + +"Good night, sir." + +The young man went away; and Paul Marchmont heard him whistle a popular +melody as he walked along the cloistered way and out of the quadrangle +by a low archway commonly used by the tradespeople who came to the +Towers. + +The artist stood and listened to the young man's departing footsteps. +Then, with a horrible thrill of anguish, he remembered that he had seen +his last of humankind--he had heard his last of human voices: for he +was to kill himself that night. He stood in the dark lobby, looking out +into the quadrangle. He was quite alone in the house; for the girl who +had let him in was in the laundry with her mother. He could see the +figures of the two women moving about in a great gaslit chamber upon +the other side of the quadrangle--a building which had no communication +with the rest of the house. He was to die that night; and he had not +yet even determined how he was to die. + +He mechanically opened Mrs. Weston's letter: it was only a few lines, +telling him that Peterson had arrived with the portmanteau and +dressing-case, and that there would be a comfortable room prepared for +him. "I am so glad you have changed your mind, and are coming to me, +Paul," Mrs. Weston concluded. "Your manner, when we parted to-night, +almost alarmed me." + +Paul groaned aloud as he crushed the letter in his hand. Then he went +back to the western drawing-room. He heard strange noises in the empty +rooms as he passed by their open doors, weird creaking sounds and +melancholy moanings in the wide chimneys. It seemed as if all the +ghosts of Marchmont Towers were astir to-night, moved by an awful +prescience of some coming horror. + +Paul Marchmont was an atheist; but atheism, although a very pleasant +theme for a critical and argumentative discussion after a +lobster-supper and unlimited champagne, is but a poor staff to lean +upon when the worn-out traveller approaches the mysterious portals of +the unknown land. + +The artist had boasted of his belief in annihilation; and had declared +himself perfectly satisfied with a materialistic or pantheistic +arrangement of the universe, and very indifferent as to whether he +cropped up in future years as a summer-cabbage, or a new Raphael; so +long as the ten stone or so of matter of which he was composed was made +use of somehow or other, and did its duty in the great scheme of a +scientific universe. But, oh! how that empty, soulless creed slipped +away from him now, when he stood alone in this tenantless house, +shuddering at strange spirit-noises, and horrified by a host of mystic +fears--gigantic, shapeless terrors--that crowded in his empty, godless +mind, and filled it with their hideous presence! + +He had refused to believe in a personal God. He had laughed at the idea +that there was any Deity to whom the individual can appeal, in his hour +of grief or trouble, with the hope of any separate mercy, any special +grace. He had rejected the Christian's simple creed, and now--now that +he had floated away from the shores of life, and felt himself borne +upon an irresistible current to that mysterious other side, what did he +_not_ believe in? + +Every superstition that has ever disturbed the soul of ignorant man +lent some one awful feature to the crowd of hideous images uprising in +this man's mind:--awful Chaldean gods and Carthaginian goddesses, +thirsting for the hot blood of human sacrifices, greedy for hecatombs +of children flung shrieking into fiery furnaces, or torn limb from limb +by savage beasts; Babylonian abominations; Egyptian Isis and Osiris; +classical divinities, with flaming swords and pale impassible faces, +rigid as the Destiny whose type they were; ghastly Germanic demons and +witches.--All the dread avengers that man, in the knowledge of his own +wickedness, has ever shadowed for himself out of the darkness of his +ignorant mind, swelled that ghastly crowd, until the artist's brain +reeled, and he was fain to sit with his head in his hands, trying, by a +great effort of the will, to exorcise these loathsome phantoms. + +"I must be going mad," he muttered to himself. "I am going mad." + +But still the great question was unanswered--How was he to kill +himself? + +"I must settle that," he thought. "I dare not think of anything that +may come afterwards. Besides, what _should_ come? I _know_ that there +is nothing. Haven't I heard it demonstrated by cleverer men than I am? +Haven't I looked at it in every light, and weighed it in every +scale--always with the same result? Yes; I know that there is nothing +_after_ the one short pang, any more than there is pain in the nerve of +a tooth when the tooth is gone. The nerve was the soul of the tooth, I +suppose; but wrench away the body, and the soul is dead. Why should I +be afraid? One short pain--it will seem long, I dare say--and then I +shall lie still for ever and ever, and melt slowly back into the +elements out of which I was created. Yes; I shall lie still--and be +_nothing_." + +Paul Marchmont sat thinking of this for a long time. Was it such a +great advantage, after all, this annihilation, the sovereign good of +the atheist's barren creed? It seemed to-night to this man as if it +would be better to be anything--to suffer any anguish, any penalty for +his sins, than to be blotted out for ever and ever from any conscious +part in the grand harmony of the universe. If he could have believed in +that Roman Catholic doctrine of purgatory, and that after cycles of +years of suffering he might rise at last, purified from his sins, +worthy to dwell among the angels, how differently would death have +appeared to him! He might have gone away to hide himself in some +foreign city, to perform patient daily sacrifices, humble acts of +self-abnegation, every one of which should be a new figure, however +small a one, to be set against the great sum of his sin. + +But he could not believe. There is a vulgar proverb which says, "You +cannot have your loaf and eat it;" or if proverbs would only be +grammatical, it might be better worded, "You cannot eat your loaf, and +have it to eat on some future occasion." Neither can you indulge in +rationalistic discussions or epigrammatic pleasantry about the Great +Creator who made you, and then turn and cry aloud to Him in the +dreadful hour of your despair: "O my God, whom I have insulted and +offended, help the miserable wretch who for twenty years has +obstinately shut his heart against Thee!" It may be that God would +forgive and hear even at that last supreme moment, as He heard the +penitent thief upon the cross; but the penitent thief had been a +sinner, not an unbeliever, and he _could_ pray. The hard heart of the +atheist freezes in his breast when he would repent and put away his +iniquities. When he would fain turn to his offended Maker, the words +that he tries to speak die away upon his lips; for the habit of +blasphemy is too strong upon him; he can _blague_ upon all the mighty +mysteries of heaven and hell, but he _cannot_ pray. + +Paul Marchmont could not fashion a prayer. Horrible witticisms arose up +between him and the words he would have spoken--ghastly _bon mots_, +that had seemed so brilliant at a lamp-lit dinner-table, spoken to a +joyous accompaniment of champagne-corks and laughter. Ah, me! the world +was behind this man now, with all its pleasures; and he looked back +upon it, and thought that, even when it seemed gayest and brightest, it +was only like a great roaring fair, with flaring lights, and noisy +showmen clamoring for ever to a struggling crowd. + +How should he die? Should he go upstairs and cut his throat? + +He stood before one of his pictures--a pet picture; a girl's face by +Millais, looking through the moonlight, fantastically beautiful. He +stood before this picture, and he felt one small separate pang amid all +his misery as he remembered that Edward and Mary Arundel were now +possessors of this particular gem. + +"They sha'n't have it," he muttered to himself; "they sha'n't have +_this_, at any rate." + +He took a penknife from his pocket, and hacked and ripped the canvas +savagely, till it hung in ribbons from the deep gilded frame. + +Then he smiled to himself, for the first time since he had entered that +house, and his eyes flashed with a sudden light. + +"I have lived like Sardanapalus for the last year," he cried aloud; +"and I will die like Sardanapalus!" + +There was a fragile piece of furniture near him,--an _etagere_ of +marqueterie work, loaded with costly _bric a brac_, Oriental porcelain, +Sevres and Dresden, old Chelsea and crown Derby cups and saucers, and +quaint teapots, crawling vermin in Pallissy ware, Indian monstrosities, +and all manner of expensive absurdities, heaped together in artistic +confusion. Paul Marchmont struck the slim leg of the _etagere_ with his +foot, and laughed aloud as the fragile toys fell into a ruined heap +upon the carpet. He stamped upon the broken china; and the frail cups +and saucers crackled like eggshells under his savage feet. + +"I will die like Sardanapalus!" he cried; "the King Arbaces shall never +rest in the palace I have beautified. + + 'Now order here + Fagots, pine-nuts, and wither'd leaves, and such + Things as catch fire with one sole spark; + Bring cedar, too, and precious drugs, and spices, + And mighty planks, to nourish a tall pile; + Bring frankincense and myrrh, too; for it is + For a great sacrifice I build the pyre.' + +I don't think much of your blank verse, George Gordon Noel Byron. Your +lines end on lame syllables; your ten-syllable blank verse lacks the +fiery ring of your rhymes. I wonder whether Marchmont Towers is +insured? Yes, I remember paying a premium last Christmas. They may have +a sharp tussle with the insurance companies though. Yes, I will die +like Sardanapalus--no, not like him, for I have no Myrrha to mount the +pile and cling about me to the last. Pshaw! a modern Myrrha would leave +Sardanapalus to perish alone, and be off to make herself safe with the +new king." + +Paul snatched up the candle, and went out into the hall. He laughed +discordantly, and spoke in loud ringing tones. His manner had that +feverish excitement which the French call exaltation. He ran up the +broad stairs leading to the long corridor, out of which his own rooms, +and his mother's and sister's rooms, opened. + +Ah, how pretty they were! How elegant he had made them in his reckless +disregard of expense, his artistic delight in the task of +beautification! There were no shutters here, and the summer breeze blew +in through the broken windows, and stirred the gauzy muslin curtains, +the gay chintz draperies, the cloudlike festoons of silk and lace. Paul +Marchmont went from room to room with the flaring candle in his hand; +and wherever there were curtains or draperies about the windows, the +beds, the dressing-tables, the low lounging-chairs, and cosy little +sofas, he set alight to them. He did this with wonderful rapidity, +leaving flames behind him as he traversed the long corridor, and coming +back thus to the stairs. He went downstairs again, and returned to the +western drawing-room. Then he blew out his candle, turned out the gas, +and waited. + +"How soon will it come?" he thought. + +The shutters were shut, and the room was quite dark. + +"Shall I ever have courage to stop till it comes?" + +Paul Marchmont groped his way to the door, double-locked it, and then +took the key from the lock. + +He went to one of the windows, clambered upon a chair, opened the top +shutter, and flung the key out through the broken window. He heard it +strike jingling upon the stone terrace and then bound away, Heaven +knows where. + +"I shan't be able to go out by the door, at any rate," he thought. + +It was quite dark in the room, but the reflection of the spreading +flames was growing crimson in the sky outside. Mr. Marchmont went away +from the window, feeling his way amongst the chairs and tables. He +could see the red light through the crevices of the shutters, and a +lurid patch of sky through that one window, the upper half of which he +had left open. He sat down, somewhere near the centre of the room, and +waited. + +"The smoke will kill me," he thought. "I shall know nothing of the +fire." + +He sat quite still. He had trembled violently while he had gone from +room to room doing his horrible work; but his nerves seemed steadier +now. Steadier! why, he was transformed to stone! His heart seemed to +have stopped beating; and he only knew by a sick anguish, a dull aching +pain, that it was still in his breast. + +He sat waiting and thinking. In that time all the long story of the +past was acted before him, and he saw what a wretch he had been. I do +not know whether this was penitence; but looking at that enacted story, +Paul Marchmont thought that his own part in the play was a mistake, and +that it was a foolish thing to be a villain. + + * * * * * + +When a great flock of frightened people, with a fire-engine out of +order, and drawn by whooping men and boys, came hurrying up to the +Towers, they found a blazing edifice, which looked like an enchanted +castle--great stone-framed windows vomiting flame; tall chimneys +toppling down upon a fiery roof; molten lead, like water turned to +fire, streaming in flaming cataracts upon the terrace; and all the sky +lit up by that vast pile of blazing ruin. Only salamanders, or poor Mr. +Braidwood's own chosen band, could have approached Marchmont Towers +that night. The Kemberling firemen and the Swampington firemen, who +came by-and-by, were neither salamanders nor Braidwoods. They stood +aloof and squirted water at the flames, and recoiled aghast by-and-by +when the roof came down like an avalanche of blazing timber, leaving +only a gaunt gigantic skeleton of red-hot stone where Marchmont Towers +once had been. + +When it was safe to venture in amongst the ruins--and this was not for +many hours after the fire had burnt itself out--people looked for Paul +Marchmont; but amidst all that vast chaos of smouldering ashes, there +was nothing found that could be identified as the remains of a human +being. No one knew where the artist had been at the time of the fire, +or indeed whether he had been in the house at all; and the popular +opinion was, that Paul had set fire to the mansion, and had fled away +before the flames began to spread. + +But Lavinia Weston knew better than this. She knew now why her brother +had sent her every scrap of valuable property belonging to him. She +understood now why he had come back to her to bid her good-night for +the second time, and press his cold lips to hers. + + + + +CHAPTER THE LAST. + +"DEAR IS THE MEMORY OF OUR WEDDED LIVES." + + +Mary and Edward Arundel saw the awful light in the sky, and heard the +voices of the people shouting in the street below, and calling to one +another that Marchmont Towers was on fire. + +The young mistress of the burning pile had very little concern for her +property. She only kept saying, again and again, "O Edward! I hope +there is no one in the house. God grant there may be no one in the +house!" + +And when the flames were highest, and it seemed by the light in the sky +as if all Lincolnshire had been blazing, Edward Arundel's wife flung +herself upon her knees, and prayed aloud for any unhappy creature that +might be in peril. + +Oh, if we could dare to think that this innocent girl's prayer was +heard before the throne of an Awful Judge, pleading for the soul of a +wicked man! + +Early the next morning Mrs. Arundel came from Lawford Grange with her +confidential maid, and carried off her daughter-in-law and the baby, on +the first stage of the journey into Devonshire. Before she left +Kemberling, Mary was told that no dead body had been found amongst the +ruins of the Towers; and this assertion deluded her into the belief +that no unhappy creature had perished. So she went to Dangerfield +happier than she had ever been since the sunny days of her honeymoon, +to wait there for the coming of Edward Arundel, who was to stay behind +to see Richard Paulette and Mr. Gormby, and to secure the testimony of +Mr. Weston and Betsy Murrel with a view to the identification of Mary's +little son, who had been neither registered nor christened. + +I have no need to dwell upon this process of identification, +registration, and christening, through which Master Edward Arundel had +to pass in the course of the next month. I had rather skip this +dry-as-dust business, and go on to that happy time which Edward and his +young wife spent together under the oaks at Dangerfield--that bright +second honeymoon season, while they were as yet houseless; for a pretty +villa-like mansion was being built on the Marchmont property, far away +from the dank wood and the dismal river, in a pretty pastoral little +nook, which was a fair oasis amidst the general dreariness of +Lincolnshire. + +I need scarcely say that the grand feature of this happy time was THE +BABY. It will be of course easily understood that this child stood +alone amongst babies. There never had been another such infant; it was +more than probable there would never again be such a one. In every +attribute of babyhood he was a twelvemonth in advance of the rest of +his race. Prospective greatness was stamped upon his brow. He would be +a Clive or a Wellington, unless indeed he should have a fancy for the +Bar and the Woolsack, in which case he would be a little more erudite +than Lyndhurst, a trifle more eloquent than Brougham. All this was +palpable to the meanest capacity in the very manner in which this child +crowed in his nurse's arms, or choked himself with farinaceous food, or +smiled recognition at his young father, or performed the simplest act +common to infancy. + +I think Mr. Sant would have been pleased to paint one of those summer +scenes at Dangerfield--the proud soldier-father; the pale young wife; +the handsome, matronly grandmother; and, as the mystic centre of that +magic circle, the toddling flaxen-haired baby, held up by his father's +hands, and taking caricature strides in imitation of papa's big steps. + +To my mind, it is a great pity that children are not children for +ever--that the pretty baby-boy by Sant, all rosy and flaxen and +blue-eyed, should ever grow into a great angular pre-Raphaelite +hobadahoy, horribly big and out of drawing. But neither Edward nor Mary +nor, above all, Mrs. Arundel were of this opinion. They were as eager +for the child to grow up and enter for the great races of this life, as +some speculative turf magnate who has given a fancy price for a +yearling, and is pining to see the animal a far-famed three-year-old, +and winner of the double event. + +Before the child had cut a double-tooth Mrs. Arundel senior had decided +in favour of Eton as opposed to Harrow, and was balancing the +conflicting advantages of classical Oxford and mathematical Cambridge; +while Edward could not see the baby-boy rolling on the grass, with blue +ribbons and sashes fluttering in the breeze, without thinking of his +son's future appearance in the uniform of his own regiment, gorgeous in +the splendid crush of a levee at St. James's. + +How many airy castles were erected in that happy time, with the baby +for the foundation-stone of all of them! _The_ BABY! Why, that definite +article alone expresses an infinity of foolish love and admiration. +Nobody says _the_ father, the husband, the mother; it is "my" father, +my husband, as the case may be. But every baby, from St. Giles's to +Belgravia, from Tyburnia to St. Luke's, is "the" baby. The infant's +reign is short, but his royalty is supreme, and no one presumes to +question his despotic rule. + +Edward Arundel almost worshipped the little child whose feeble cry he +had heard in the October twilight, and had _not_ recognised. He was +never tired of reproaching himself for this omission. That baby-voice +_ought_ to have awakened a strange thrill in the young father's breast. + +That time at Dangerfield was the happiest period of Mary's life. All +her sorrows had melted away. They did not tell her of Paul Marchmont's +suspected fate; they only told her that her enemy had disappeared, and +that no one knew whither he had gone. Mary asked once, and once only, +about her stepmother; and she was told that Olivia was at Swampington +Rectory, living with her father, and that people said she was mad. +George Weston had emigrated to Australia, with his wife, and his wife's +mother and sister. There had been no prosecution for conspiracy; the +disappearance of the principal criminal had rendered that unnecessary. + +This was all that Mary ever heard of her persecutors. She did not wish +to hear of them; she had forgiven them long ago. I think that in the +inner depths of her innocent heart she had forgiven them from the +moment she had fallen on her husband's breast in Hester's parlour at +Kemberling, and had felt his strong arms clasped about her, sheltering +her from all harm for evermore. + +She was very happy; and her nature, always gentle, seemed sublimated by +the sufferings she had endured, and already akin to that of the angels. +Alas, this was Edward Arundel's chief sorrow! This young wife, so +precious to him in her fading loveliness, was slipping away from him, +even in the hour when they were happiest together--was separated from +him even when they were most united. She was separated from him by that +unconquerable sadness in his heart, which was prophetic of a great +sorrow to come. + +Sometimes, when Mary saw her husband looking at her with a mournful +tenderness, an almost despairing love in his eyes, she would throw +herself into his arms, and say to him: + +"You must remember how happy I have been, Edward. O my darling! promise +me always to remember how happy I have been." + +When the first chill breezes of autumn blew among the Dangerfield oaks, +Edward Arundel took his wife southwards, with his mother and the +inevitable baby in her train. They went to Nice, and they were very +quiet, very happy, in the pretty southern town, with snow-clad +mountains behind them, and the purple Mediterranean before. + +The villa was building all this time in Lincolnshire. Edward's agent +sent him plans and sketches for Mrs. Arundel's approval; and every +evening there was some fresh talk about the arrangement of the rooms, +and the laying-out of gardens. Mary was always pleased to see the plans +and drawings, and to discuss the progress of the work with her husband. +She would talk of the billiard-room, and the cosy little smoking-room, +and the nurseries for the baby, which were to have a southern aspect, +and every advantage calculated to assist the development of that rare +and marvellous blossom; and she would plan the comfortable apartments +that were to be specially kept for dear grandmamma, who would of course +spend a great deal of her time at the Sycamores--the new place was to +be called the Sycamores. But Edward could never get his wife to talk of +a certain boudoir opening into a tiny conservatory, which he himself +had added on to the original architect's plan. He could never get Mary +to speak of this particular chamber; and once, when he asked her some +question about the colour of the draperies, she said to him, very +gently,-- + +"I would rather you would not think of that room, darling." + +"Why, my pet?" + +"Because it will make you sorry afterwards." + +"Mary, my darling----" + +"O Edward! you know,--you must know, dearest,--that I shall never see +that place?" + +But her husband took her in his arms, and declared that this was only a +morbid fancy, and that she was getting better and stronger every day, +and would live to see her grandchildren playing under the maples that +sheltered the northern side of the new villa. Edward told his wife +this, and he believed in the truth of what he said. He could not +believe that he was to lose this young wife, restored to him after so +many trials. Mary did not contradict him just then; but that night, +when he was sitting in her room reading by the light of a shaded lamp +after she had gone to bed,--Mary went to bed very early, by order of +the doctors, and indeed lived altogether according to medical +_regime_,--she called her husband to her. + +"I want to speak to you, dear," she said; "there is something that I +must say to you." + +The young man knelt down by his wife's bed. + +"What is it, darling?" he asked. + +"You know what we said to-day, Edward?" + +"What, darling? We say so many things every day--we are so happy +together, and have so much to talk about." + +"But you remember, Edward,--you remember what I said about never seeing +the Sycamores? Ah! don't stop me, dear love," Mary said reproachfully, +for Edward put his lips to hers to stay the current of mournful +words,--"don't stop me, dear, for I must speak to you. I want you to +know that _it must be_, Edward darling. I want you to remember how +happy I have been, and how willing I am to part with you, dear, since +it is God's will that we should be parted. And there is something else +that I want to say, Edward. Grandmamma told me something--all about +Belinda. I want you to promise me that Belinda shall be happy +by-and-by; for she has suffered so much, poor girl! And you will love +her, and she will love the baby. But you won't love her quite the same +way that you loved me, will you, dear? because you never knew her when +she was a little child, and very poor. She has never been an orphan, +and quite lonely, as I have been. You have never been _all the world_ +to her." + + * * * * * + +The Sycamores was finished by the following midsummer, but no one took +possession of the newly-built house; no brisk upholsterer's men came, +with three-foot rules and pencils and memorandum-books, to take +measurements of windows and floors; no wagons of splendid furniture +made havoc of the gravel-drive before the principal entrance. The only +person who came to the new house was a snuff-taking crone from +Stanfield, who brought a turn-up bedstead, a Dutch clock, and a few +minor articles of furniture, and encamped in a corner of the best +bedroom. + +Edward Arundel, senior, was away in India, fighting under Napier and +Outram; and Edward Arundel, junior, was at Dangerfield, under the +charge of his grandmother. + +Perhaps the most beautiful monument in one of the English cemeteries at +Nice is that tall white marble cross and kneeling figure, before which +strangers pause to read an inscription to the memory of Mary, the +beloved wife of Edward Dangerfield Arundel. + + + + +THE EPILOGUE. + + +Four years after the completion of that pretty stuccoed villa, which +seemed destined never to be inhabited, Belinda Lawford walked alone up +and down the sheltered shrubbery-walk in the Grange garden in the +fading September daylight. + +Miss Lawford was taller and more womanly-looking than she had been on +the day of her interrupted wedding. The vivid bloom had left her +cheeks; but I think she was all the prettier because of that delicate +pallor, which gave a pensive cast to her countenance. She was very +grave and gentle and good; but she had never forgotten the shock of +that broken bridal ceremonial in Hillingsworth Church. + +The Major had taken his eldest daughter abroad almost immediately after +that July day; and Belinda and her father had travelled together very +peacefully, exploring quiet Belgian cities, looking at celebrated +altar-pieces in dusky cathedrals, and wandering round battle-fields, +which the intermingled blood of rival nations had once made one crimson +swamp. They had been nearly a twelvemonth absent, and then Belinda +returned to assist at the marriage of a younger sister, and to hear +that Edward Arundel's wife had died of a lingering pulmonary complaint +at Nice. + +She was told this: and she was told how Olivia Marchmont still lived +with her father at Swampington, and how day by day she went the same +round from cottage to cottage, visiting the sick; teaching little +children, or sometimes rough-bearded men, to read and write and cipher; +reading to old decrepid pensioners; listening to long histories of +sickness and trial, and exhibiting an unwearying patience that was akin +to sublimity. Passion had burnt itself out in this woman's breast, and +there was nothing in her mind now but remorse, and the desire to +perform a long penance, by reason of which she might in the end be +forgiven. + +But Mrs. Marchmont never visited anyone alone. Wherever she went, +Barbara Simmons accompanied her, constant as her shadow. The +Swampington people said this was because the Rector's daughter was not +quite right in her mind; and there were times when she forgot where she +was, and would have wandered away in a purposeless manner, Heaven knows +where, had she not been accompanied by her faithful servant. Clever as +the Swampington people and the Kemberling people might be in finding +out the business of their neighbours, they never knew that Olivia +Marchmont had been consentient to the hiding-away of her stepdaughter. +They looked upon her, indeed, with considerable respect, as a heroine +by whose exertions Paul Marchmont's villany had been discovered. In the +hurry and confusion of the scene at Hillingsworth Church, nobody had +taken heed of Olivia's incoherent self-accusations: Hubert Arundel was +therefore spared the misery of knowing the extent of his daughter's +sin. + +Belinda Lawford came home in order to be present at her sister's +wedding; and the old life began again for her, with all the old duties +that had once been so pleasant. She went about them very cheerfully +now. She worked for her poor pensioners, and took the chief burden of +the housekeeping off her mother's hands. But though she jingled her +keys with a cheery music as she went about the house, and though she +often sang to herself over her work, the old happy smile rarely lit up +her face. She went about her duties rather like some widowed matron who +had lived her life, than a girl before whom the future lies, mysterious +and unknown. + +It has been said that happiness comes to the sleeper--the meaning of +which proverb I take to be, that Joy generally comes to us when we +least look for her lovely face. And it was on this September afternoon, +when Belinda loitered in the garden after her round of small duties was +finished, and she was free to think or dream at her leisure, that +happiness came to her,--unexpected, unhoped-for, supreme; for, turning +at one end of the sheltered alley, she saw Edward Arundel standing at +the other end, with his hat in his hand, and the summer wind blowing +amongst his hair. + +Miss Lawford stopped quite still. The old-fashioned garden reeled +before her eyes, and the hard-gravelled path seemed to become a quaking +bog. She could not move; she stood still, and waited while Edward came +towards her. + +"Letitia has told me about you, Linda," he said; "she has told me how +true and noble you have been; and she sent me here to look for a wife, +to make new sunshine in my empty home,--a young mother to smile upon my +motherless boy." + +Edward and Belinda walked up and down the sheltered alley for a long +time, talking a great deal of the sad past, a little of the +fair-seeming future. It was growing dusk before they went in at the +old-fashioned half-glass door leading into the drawing-room, where Mrs. +Lawford and her younger daughters were sitting, and where Lydia, who +was next to Belinda, and had been three years married to the Curate of +Hillingsworth, was nursing her second baby. + +"Has she said 'yes'?" this young matron cried directly; for she had +been told of Edward's errand to the Grange. "But of course she has. +What else should she say, after refusing all manner of people, and +giving herself the airs of an old-maid? Yes, um pressus Pops, um Aunty +Lindy's going to be marriedy-pariedy," concluded the Curate's wife, +addressing her three-months-old baby in that peculiar patois which is +supposed to be intelligible to infants by reason of being +unintelligible to everybody else. + +"I suppose you are not aware that my future brother-in-law is a major?" +said Belinda's third sister, who had been struggling with a variation +by Thalberg, all octaves and accidentals, and who twisted herself round +upon her music-stool to address her sister. "I suppose you are not +aware that you have been talking to Major Arundel, who has done all +manner of splendid things in the Punjaub? Papa told us all about it +five minutes ago." + +It was as much as Belinda could do to support the clamorous +felicitations of her sisters, especially the unmarried damsels, who +were eager to exhibit themselves in the capacity of bridesmaids; but +by-and-by, after dinner, the Curate's wife drew her sisters away from +that shadowy window in which Edward Arundel and Belinda were sitting, +and the lovers were left to themselves. + +That evening was very peaceful, very happy, and there were many other +evenings like it before Edward and Belinda completed that ceremonial +which they had left unfinished more than five years before. + +The Sycamores was very prettily furnished, under Belinda's +superintendence; and as Reginald Arundel had lately married, Edward's +mother came to live with her younger son, and brought with her the +idolised grandchild, who was now a tall, yellow-haired boy of six years +old. + +There was only one room in the Sycamores which was never tenanted by +any one of that little household except Edward himself, who kept the +key of the little chamber in his writing-desk, and only allowed the +servants to go in at stated intervals to keep everything bright and +orderly in the apartment. + +The shut-up chamber was the boudoir which Edward Arundel had planned +for his first wife. He had ordered it to be furnished with the very +furniture which he had intended for Mary. The rosebuds and butterflies +on the walls, the guipure curtains lined with pale blush-rose silk, the +few chosen books in the little cabinet near the fireplace, the Dresden +breakfast-service, the statuettes and pictures, were things he had +fixed upon long ago in his own mind as the decorations for his wife's +apartment. He went into the room now and then, and looked at his first +wife's picture--a crayon sketch taken in London before Mary and her +husband started for the South of France. He looked a little wistfully +at this picture, even when he was happiest in the new ties that bound +him to life, and all that is brightest in life. + +Major Arundel took his eldest son into this room one day, when young +Edward was eight or nine years old, and showed the boy his mother's +portrait. + +"When you are a man, this place will be yours, Edward," the father +said. "_You_ can give your wife this room, although I have never given +it to mine. You will tell her that it was built for your mother, and +that it was built for her by a husband who, even when most grateful to +God for every new blessing he enjoyed, never ceased to be sorry for the +loss of his first love." + +And so I leave my soldier-hero, to repose upon laurels that have been +hardly won, and secure in that modified happiness which is chastened by +the memory of sorrow. I leave him with bright children crowding round +his knees, a loving wife smiling at him across those fair childish +heads. I leave him happy and good and useful, filling his place in the +world, and bringing up his children to be wise and virtuous men and +women in the days that are to come. I leave him, above all, with the +serene lamp of faith for ever burning in his soul, lighting the image +of that other world in which there is neither marrying nor giving in +marriage, and where his dead wife will smile upon him from amidst the +vast throng of angel faces--a child for ever and ever before the throne +of God! + + +THE END. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of John Marchmont's Legacy, Volume III +(of 3), by Mary E. 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