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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Monctons + A Novel: Volume 2 (of 2) + +Author: Susanna Moodie + +Release Date: February 9, 2012 [EBook #38798] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MONCTONS *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by the +Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions +(www.canadiana.org)) + + + + + + +</pre> + +<h1> +THE MONCTONS: +</h1> + +<h1> +A NOVEL. +</h1> + + +<br> +<h3> +BY +</h3> + + +<h2> +SUSANNA MOODIE. +</h2> + +<h4> +AUTHOR OF +</h4> + +<h4> +"ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH," "FLORA LINDSAY,"<br> +"MATRIMONIAL SPECULATIONS," &c. +</h4> + +<br> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i14"> +What—dost thou think I'll bend to thee? +</p> +<p class="i16"> +The free in soul are ever free: +</p> +<p class="i14"> +Nor force, nor poverty can bind +</p> +<p class="i16"> +The subtle will—the thinking mind. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<h4> +IN TWO VOLUMES. +</h4> + +<h4> +VOL II. +</h4> + + + +<h4> +LONDON:<br> +RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET.<br> +1856. +</h4> + +<h4> +<span class="sc"> +london</span>: +<br> +Printed by Schulze and Co., 13, Poland Street. +</h4> +<hr class="med"> +<center> +<table border="0" bgcolor="#66FFCC" cellpadding="10" summary="Contents note" width="80%"> +<tr> +<td> +Transcriber's Note: The Table of Contents is not contained in the book but has been created for the convenience of the reader of this etext. +</td> +</tr> +</table> +</center> + +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> +<p class="tocchp"> +<small>CHAPTER</small> +</p> +<ul class="toc"> +<li><a href="#I"> </a></li> +<li><a href="#II">ALICE.</a></li> +<li><a href="#III">MY VISIT TO MONCTON PARK.</a></li> +<li><a href="#IV">A SAD EVENT.</a></li> +<li><a href="#V">A DISCOVERY.</a></li> +<li><a href="#VI">MY SECOND INTERVIEW WITH DINAH NORTH.</a></li> +<li><a href="#VII">AN EXPLANATION—DEPARTURE—DISAPPOINTMENT.</a></li> +<li><a href="#VIII">ELM GROVE.</a></li> +<li><a href="#IX">MY NURSE, AND WHO SHE WAS.</a></li> +<li><a href="#X">MY LETTERS.</a></li> +<li><a href="#XI">A WELCOME AND AN UNWELCOME VISITOR.</a></li> +<li><a href="#XII">DINAH'S CONFESSION.</a></li> +<li><a href="#XIII">RETRIBUTIVE JUSTICE.</a></li> +<li><a href="#XIV">THE DOUBLE BRIDAL.</a></li> +</ul> + +<hr class="med"> +<h2> +THE MONCTONS. +</h2> + + +<p class="chapter"> +<a name="I">CHAPTER I.</a> +</p> + + +<p> +"The next day, my friend bade us adieu. Had he expressed the least +wish to that effect, I would have accompanied him to the South—but he +did not, and we parted, never to meet again. He died abroad, and +Charlotte became the inheritor of his large fortune. Her grief for the +loss of her brother affected her health and spirits to such an +alarming degree, that instant change of air and scene was recommended +by her physician, and she left London to spend some months with her +aunt on the Continent. I would have gladly made one in their party, +but this she forbade me to do in the most positive terms. +</p> + +<p> +"I fancied that her manner to me had grown cold and distant during the +separation which had intervened between her brother's death and the +severe illness that followed the announcement of that melancholy +event. These fears were confirmed by a long and very prudential letter +from her aunt, entreating me, as a mutual friend, not to follow them +to Italy, as it might be attended by unpleasant results to Miss +Laurie, who was still very young—too young, in her estimation, to +acknowledge publicly an accepted lover; that as no actual engagement +existed between us, she thought it most advisable for both parties +only to regard each other in the light of friends, until the +expiration of the time which would make Miss Laurie the mistress of +her hand and fortune. It was impossible to mistake the purport of this +letter, which I felt certain must have been sanctioned by her niece. +Then, and not until then was I fully aware of all that I had lost by +the death of my poor friend. +</p> + +<p> +"Charlotte had repented of her affection for the low-born Philip +Mornington. She was a great heiress now, and a match for the first +nobleman in the kingdom. I crushed the letter beneath my feet, and +felt within my breast the extinction of hope. +</p> + +<p> +"I suspected that Robert Moncton and his son were at the bottom of +this unexpected movement; nor was I mistaken. It was strange, that +among the whole range of my acquaintance, I had never been introduced +to this rascal and his son, or met him accidentally at any place of +public resort. They effectually worked my ruin, but it was in the +dark. +</p> + +<p> +"The loss of Charlotte made me reckless of the future. I plunged +headlong into all sorts of dissipation: wine, women, the turf, the +gaming-table, by turns intoxicated my brain, and engrossed my time and +thoughts, until repeated losses to an alarming amount, made me +restless and miserable, without in the least checking the growing +evil. I had forfeited self-respect, and with it the moral courage to +resist temptation. +</p> + +<p> +"I was goaded on in my career of guilt by a young man of fascinating +person and manners, but of depraved habits and broken fortunes. From +the first night that I was introduced to William Howard, he expressed +for me the deepest respect and friendship, and haunted me subsequently +like my shadow. He flattered my vanity by the most sedulous +attentions, echoed my sentiments, hung upon my words, copied my style +of dress, and imitated my manners. +</p> + +<p> +"These arts might have failed in producing the desired effect, had he +not wound himself into my confidence, by appearing to sympathize in my +mental sufferings. He talked of Charlotte, and endeavoured to soothe +my irritated feelings, by expressing the most sanguine hopes of my +ultimate success; and, to dissipate the melancholy that preyed upon my +health and spirits, he led me by degrees to mix with the reckless and +profligate, and to find pleasure in the society of individuals whom I +could not respect, and from whose proximity a few months before I +should have shrunk with disgust and aversion. +</p> + +<p> +"A young fellow just beyond his minority is easily led astray, +particularly, when he has wealth at his command, and no settled +employment or profession to engage his time and thoughts, and worse +still, with no religious principles to guide him in his perilous +voyage across the treacherous ocean of life. +</p> + +<p> +"Alas! Geoffrey; I chose for my pilot one who had not only ruined +himself, but caused the shipwreck of others, superior in prudence and +intelligence; to the man who now trusted to his advice and believed +him a friend. +</p> + +<p> +"When I look back to that disastrous period of my life, my soul +shrinks within itself, and I lament my madness with unceasing +bitterness. All that I have since suffered, appears but a just +retribution for those three years of vice and folly. Little did I then +suspect, that my quondam friend was an infamous sharper, bribed by the +still more infamous Robert Moncton to lure me to destruction. +</p> + +<p> +"In spite of her aunt's prohibition, I had continued to write to Miss +Laurie; at first, frequently, seldom many days elapsing between letter +and letter, but to my surprise and indignation, not one of my +communications had been answered, although breathing the most ardent +attachment, and dictated by a passion as sincere as ever animated a +human breast. What could be the cause of this cruel neglect? I called +repeatedly at Mrs. ——'s house in town, but was constantly told by +the old housekeeper, who received me very coldly, that Miss Laurie and +her aunt were still on the continent. +</p> + +<p> +"As long as this miserable state of uncertainty continued, I clung to +hope, and maintained the character of a man of honour and a gentleman. +But the insidious tempter was ever at hand, to exaggerate my distress, +and to weaken my good resolutions. Howard laughed at my constancy to a +false mistress, and by degrees, led me to consider myself as a very +ill-used man, and Miss Laurie as a heartless coquette. +</p> + +<p> +"Two years had elapsed since the death of Cornelius; and I was just +ready to accompany a party of gay young fellows to Newmarket, when I +was told accidentally, that Miss Laurie, the great heiress, had +arrived in town, and the young men were laughing and speculating upon +the chance of winning her and her fortune. +</p> + +<p> +"'They say she's a beauty!' cried one. +</p> + +<p> +"'Beauty won't pay debts,' said another. 'I can't afford to marry for +love.' +</p> + +<p> +"'A plain girl with her property is sure to be handsome. Beauty and +gold are too much to fall to the share of one person. I dare say, +she's only passable.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Sour grapes, Hunter,' said Howard. 'You know that you are such a +—— ugly fellow, that no woman, with or without a fortune would take +you for better or worse.' +</p> + +<p> +"'<i>Better</i> is out of the question, Howard, and he can't be well +worse,' said the first speaker. 'But I should like to know if Miss +Laurie is really the beauty they say she is. Money is a thing to +possess—to enjoy—to get rid of. But beauty is a divinity. I may +covet the one—I adore the other.' +</p> + +<p> +"'You may do both then, at a humble distance, George. But here's +Philip Mornington, can satisfy all your queries—he knows, and used to +feel an interest in the young lady.' +</p> + +<p> +"To hear her name in such company, was to me profanation. I made some +ungracious reply to what I considered an impertinent observation of +Howard's, and feigning some improbable excuse for absenting myself +from the party, I turned my horse's head and rode back to my lodgings, +in spite of several large bets that I had pending upon a favorite +horse. +</p> + +<p> +"Charlotte was in London, and I could not rest until I had learned my +fate from her own lips. I hastened to her aunt's residence; and, +contrary to my expectations, on sending up my card, I was instantly +admitted to her presence. +</p> + +<p> +"She was alone in the drawing-room. The slight girl of seventeen was +now a beautiful and graceful woman; intelligence beaming from her +eyes, and the bloom of health upon her cheek. As I approached the +table at which she was seated, she rose to meet me, and the colour +receded so fast from her face that I feared she would faint, and +instead of addressing me with her usual frankness, she turned away her +head and burst into tears. +</p> + +<p> +"You may imagine my distress: I endeavoured to take her hand, but she +drew proudly back. +</p> + +<p> +"'Is this Charlotte?' +</p> + +<p> +"'Rather let me ask—is this Philip Mornington, my brother's friend?' +she spoke with a degree of severity which astonished me—'the man for +whom I once entertained the deepest respect and affection.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Which implies that you do so no longer?' +</p> + +<p> +"'You have rightly guessed.' +</p> + +<p> +"'And may I ask Miss Laurie why she has seen fit to change the opinion +she once entertained?' +</p> + +<p> +"'Mr. Mornington,' said she, firmly, repressing the emotion which +convulsed her lips and glistened in her eyes, 'I have long wished to +see you, to hear from your own lips an explanation of your +extraordinary conduct, and though this meeting must be our last, I +could not part with you for ever, until I had convinced you that the +separation was effected by yourself.' +</p> + +<p> +"'It will be difficult to prove that,' said I, 'if you really +sanctioned your aunt's letter, and were privy to its contents.' +</p> + +<p> +"'It was written at my request,' she replied, with provoking coldness. +'Mr. Moncton's suspicions were aroused, and your following us to the +continent would have confirmed them, and rendered us both miserable. +But my motives for requesting a temporary separation, were fully +discussed in my letter which accompanied the one written by my aunt. +To this reasonable request you returned no answer, nor, in fact, to +several subsequent letters which were written during our absence +abroad.' +</p> + +<p> +"I trembled with agitation while she was speaking, and I fear that she +misinterpreted my emotion. +</p> + +<p> +"'Good Heavens!' I exclaimed at last, 'how grossly have I deceived +myself into the belief that you never wrote to me—that you cast me +from you without one word of pity or remorse. I never got a line from +you, Charlotte. Your aunt's cruel letter came only too soon, and was +answered too promptly; and to the many I have written to you since, +you did not deign a reply.' +</p> + +<p> +"'They never reached us, Mr. Mornington; and it is strange that these +letters (which to me were, at least, matters of no small importance) +should be the only ones among the numbers addressed to us by other +friends, which miscarried.' +</p> + +<p> +"I was stung by the incredulous air with which she spoke: it was so +unlike my own simple, frank-hearted Charlotte. +</p> + +<p> +"'Miss Laurie, you doubt my word?' +</p> + +<p> +"'A career of vice and folly, Mr. Mornington, has made me doubt your +<i>character</i>. While I could place confidence in the <i>one</i>, I +never suspected deceit in the other.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Your silence, Charlotte, drove me to desperation, and involved me in +the dissipation to which you allude.' +</p> + +<p> +"'A man of integrity could not so easily be warped from the path of +duty:' she said this proudly. 'I can no longer love one whom I have +ceased to respect, whose conduct, for the last two years, has made me +regret that we ever met.' +</p> + +<p> +"'You are too severe, Miss Laurie,' and I felt the blood rush to my +face. 'You should take into account all I have suffered for your +sake.' +</p> + +<p> +"'You found a strange method of alleviating those sufferings, Philip.' +This was said sadly, but with extreme bitterness. 'Had you loved or +cherished me in your memory, you never could have pursued a course of +conduct so diametrically opposite to my wishes.' +</p> + +<p> +"This was a home-thrust. I felt like a guilty and condemned creature, +debased in my own eyes, and humbled before the woman I adored. +</p> + +<p> +"I felt that it was useless to endeavour to defend myself against her +just accusations; yet, I could not part with her, without one struggle +more for forgiveness, and while I acknowledged and bitterly lamented +my past errors, I pleaded for mercy with the most passionate +eloquence. I promised to abjure all my idle companions and vicious +habits, and devote the rest of my life entirely to her. +</p> + +<p> +"She listened to me with tearful earnestness, but remained firm to her +purpose, that we were to part there for ever, and only remember each +other as strangers. +</p> + +<p> +"Her obstinacy rendered me desperate. I forgot the provocation I had +given her by my wicked and reckless course. I reproached her as the +cause of all my crimes. Accused her of fickleness and cruelty, and +called Heaven to witness, how little I merited her displeasure. +</p> + +<p> +"Her gentle feminine brow was overcast; her countenance was dark and +stern. +</p> + +<p> +"'These are awful charges, Mr. Mornington. Permit me to ask you a few +questions, in my turn, and answer them briefly and without evasion.' +</p> + +<p> +"I gazed in silent astonishment upon her kindling face. +</p> + +<p> +"'Are you in the habit of frequenting the gaming-table? Yes, or no.' +</p> + +<p> +"My eyes involuntarily shrunk from hers. +</p> + +<p> +"'The race-course?' +</p> + +<p> +"'I must confess to both these charges,' I stammered out. 'But'—— +</p> + +<p> +"'For such conduct there can be no excuse. It is not amid such scenes +that I would look for the man I love.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Cease, Charlotte, in mercy cease, if you do not mean to drive me +mad. Some enemy has poisoned your mind against me. Left to yourself, +you could not condemn me in this cold, pitiless manner.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Your own lips have condemned you, Philip.' She stopped, passed her +hand across her brow, as if in sudden pain, and sighed deeply. +</p> + +<p> +"'When will these reproaches end, Charlotte? Of what else do you +accuse me?' +</p> + +<p> +"'Is what I have said, false or true?' she cried, turning suddenly +towards me, and grasping my arm. 'If false, clear yourself. If true, +what more can I have to do with you?' +</p> + +<p> +"'Alas!' I cried, 'it is but too true!' +</p> + +<p> +"'And can you expect, Mr. Mornington, that any virtuous, well-educated +woman could place her happiness in the keeping of one who has shown +such little self-government; who chooses for his associates men of +loose morals and bad character. Your constant companion and bosom +friend is a notorious gambler, a man whose society is scouted by all +honourable men. I pity you, Philip; weep for you; pray for you; and +God only knows the agony which this hour has cost me; but we must meet +as lovers and friends no more.' +</p> + +<p> +"She glided from the room, and I stood for some minutes stupidly +staring after her, with the horrible consciousness of having exchanged +a pearl of great price, for the base coin in which pleasure pays her +deluded followers, and only felt the inestimable value of the treasure +I had lost, when it was no longer in my power to recover it. +</p> + +<p> +"I returned to the company I had quitted. I betted and lost; plunged +madly on; staked my whole property on a desperate chance, and returned +from the races, forsaken by my gay companions, a heart-broken and +ruined man! +</p> + +<p> +"It was night when I reached London. Not wishing to encounter any of +my late associates, I entered a coffee-house seldom frequented by men +of their class, and called for a bottle of wine. +</p> + +<p> +"The place was ill-lighted and solitary. I threw myself into a far +corner of my box, and, for the first time (for I never was a drinker) +tried to drown care in the intoxicating bowl. +</p> + +<p> +"The wine, instead of soothing, only increased the fever of my spirit, +and I began to review with bitterness the insanity of my conduct for +the last few months. With a brain on fire with the wine, I continued +eagerly to swallow, and a heart as dull and cold as ice from recent +mortification and disappointment, I sank with my head upon the table +into a sort of waking trance, conscious of surrounding objects, but +unable to rouse myself from the stupor which held every faculty in its +leaden grasp. +</p> + +<p> +"Two men entered the box. I heard one say to the other, in a voice +which seemed familiar. +</p> + +<p> +"'This place is occupied, we had better go to another.' +</p> + +<p> +"'The fellow's drunk,' returned his companion, and may be considered +as <i>non compos</i>. He has lost all knowledge of himself, and +therefore can take no notice of us.' +</p> + +<p> +"Feeling little interest in anything beyond my own misery, I gave no +signs of life or motion, beyond pressing my burning brow more tightly +against my folded hands, which rested on the table. +</p> + +<p> +"'So, Mornington's career is ended at last, and he is a ruined man,' +said the elder of the twain. +</p> + +<p> +"'Yes, I have settled his business for you; and as my success has been +great, I expect my reward should be proportionately so.' +</p> + +<p> +"'I am ready to fulfil my promise, but expect nothing more. You have +been well paid by your dupe. He has realized the old proverb—Light +come, light go. I thought he would have given you more trouble. Yours, +Howard, has been an easy victory.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Hang the foolish fellow!' cried my quondam friend; 'I feel some +qualms of conscience about him; he was so warm-hearted and +generous—so unsuspicious, that I feel as if I had been guilty of a +moral murder. And what, Mr. Moncton, must be your feelings: your +hatred to the poor young man is almost gratuitous, when it appears +that you are personally unknown to each other.' +</p> + +<p> +"'He is the son of my worst enemy, and I will pursue him to death.' +</p> + +<p> +"'He will spare you the trouble, if I read my man rightly. He will not +submit to this sudden change of fortune with stoical indifference, but +will finish a career of folly with an act of madness.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Commit suicide?' +</p> + +<p> +"'Ay, put a pistol to his head. He is an infidel, and will not be +scared from his purpose by any fear of an hereafter.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Bring me that piece of news to-morrow, Howard, and it will be +something to stake at hazard before night.' +</p> + +<p> +"He left the box; I rose to prevent him, but the opportunity of +revenge was lost. The younger scoundrel remained behind to settle with +the waiter; as he turned round I confronted and stared him full in the +face. He pretended not to know I who was. +</p> + +<p> +"'Fellow, let me pass!' +</p> + +<p> +"'Never! until you have received the just reward of your treachery. +You are a mean, contemptible wretch: the base hireling of a baser +villain. I will prosecute you both for entering into a conspiracy +against me.' +</p> + +<p> +"'You had better let it alone,' said he, in a hoarse whisper. 'You are +a disappointed and desperate man. No sensible person will listen to +complaints made by a drunken, broken-down spendthrift and gambler.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Liar!' I cried, losing all self-control, 'when did you ever see me +drunk, or knew me guilty of one dishonourable act?' +</p> + +<p> +"'You were always too great a fool, Mornington, to take care of +yourself, and you are not able, at this moment, to stand steady. Be +that, however, as it may, I never retract my words; if you require +satisfaction, you know where to find me.' +</p> + +<p> +"'I will neither meet nor treat you as a gentleman. You are beneath +contempt.' +</p> + +<p> +"'The son of a drunken huntsman has a greater claim to gentility,' +sneered the sharper, bursting into an insulting laugh. 'Your mother +may, perhaps, have given you an indirect claim to a higher descent.' +</p> + +<p> +"This taunt stung me to madness, and sobered me in a moment. I flung +myself headlong upon him. I was young and strong—the attack +unexpected, he fell heavily to the ground. In my fury I spat upon him, +and trampled him beneath my feet. Death, I felt was too honourable a +punishment for such a contemptible villain. I would not have killed +him though certain that no punishment would follow the act. +</p> + +<p> +"The people of the house interfered. I was taken into custody and kept +in durance vile until the following morning; but as no one appeared to +make any charge against me, I was released, with a severe reprimand +from the police magistrate, and suffered to return home. +</p> + +<p> +"Home! I had now no home: about one hundred pounds was all that +remained to me of my fine property when my debts, falsely termed debts +of honour, were paid, my lodgings settled for, and my servant +discharged. +</p> + +<p> +"My disgrace had not yet reached the home of my childhood. A state of +mental suffering brought on a low fever. I was seized with an +indescribable longing, an aching of the heart to end my days in my +native village. +</p> + +<p> +"Pride in vain combated this feeling. It resisted all the arguments of +reason and common sense. Nature triumphed—and a few days saw me once +more under the shadow of the great oak which canopied our lowly +dwelling." +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +<a name="II">CHAPTER II.</a> +</p> + +<p class="head"> +ALICE. +</p> + + +<p> +"As I approached the cottage door, my attention was arrested by a low, +mournful voice, singing in sad and subdued tones, a ditty which seemed +the spontaneous outpouring of a wounded spirit. The words were several +times repeated, and I noted them down as I leant upon the trunk of the +old tree. Out of sight, but within a few feet of the songstress, whose +face was hidden from me by the thick foliage of the glorious old tree, +in whose broad-spreading branches, I had played and frolicked when a +boy. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i10">"'THE SONG.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I once was happy, blithe and gay,</p> +<p class="i2">No maiden's heart was half so light;</p> +<p>I cannot sing, for well a-day!</p> +<p class="i2">My morn of bliss is quenched in night.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I cannot weep—my brain is dry,</p> +<p class="i2">Deep woe usurps the voice of mirth</p> +<p>The sunshine of youth's cloudless sky</p> +<p class="i2">Has faded from this goodly earth.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>My soul is wrapped in midnight gloom,</p> +<p class="i2">And all that charmed my heart before,</p> +<p>Droops earthward to the silent tomb,</p> +<p class="i2">Where darkness dwells for evermore.'</p></div></div> + +<p> +"The voice ceased. I stepped from my hiding-place. Alice rose from the +bench beside the door; the work on which she was employed fell from +her hand, and she stood before me wild and wan—the faded spectre of +past happiness and beauty. +</p> + +<p> +"'Good heavens! Alice, Can this be you?' +</p> + +<p> +"'I may return the compliment,' she said, with a ghastly smile. 'Can +this be Philip? Misery has not been partial, or your brow wears its +mark in vain.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Unhappy sister of an unhappy brother!' I cried, folding her passive +form to my heart, 'I need not ask why you are altered thus.' +</p> + +<p> +"The fire which had been burning in my brain for some weeks, yielded +to softer emotions. My head sunk upon her shoulder, and I wept long +and bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +"Alice regarded me with a curious and mournful glance, but shed no +tears. +</p> + +<p> +"'Alice! That villain has deceived you?' +</p> + +<p> +"She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +"'It is useless to deny facts so apparent. Do you love him still?' +</p> + +<p> +"She sighed deeply. 'Yes, Philip. But he has ceased to love me.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Deserted you?' +</p> + +<p> +"Her lip quivered. She was silent. +</p> + +<p> +"'The villain! his life shall answer for the wrong he has done you!' +</p> + +<p> +"The blood rushed to her pale, wasted cheeks, her eyes flashed upon me +with unnatural brilliancy, and grasping my arm, she fiercely and +vehemently replied— +</p> + +<p> +"'Utter that threat but once again, and we become enemies for life. If +he has injured me and made me the wreck you see—it is not in the way +you think. To destroy him would drive me to despair. It would force me +to commit an act of desperation. I will suffer no one to interfere +between me and the man I love. I am strong enough to take my own +part—to avenge myself, if need be. I can bear my own grief in +silence, and therefore beg that you will spare your sympathy for those +who weep and pule over misfortune. I would rather be reproached than +pitied for sorrows that I draw upon myself.' +</p> + +<p> +"She sat down trembling with excitement, and tried to resume her +former occupation. Presently the needle dropped from her hand, and she +looked wistfully up in my face:— +</p> + +<p> +"'Philip, what brought you here?' +</p> + +<p> +"'An unwelcome visitor, I fear.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Perhaps so. People always come at the worst times, and when they are +least wanted.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Do you include your brother in that sweeping common-place term—has +he become to you as one of the people? Ah, Alice.' +</p> + +<p> +"'We have been no more to each other for the last three years, Philip. +Your absence and long silence made me forget that I had a brother. Few +could suppose it, from the little interest you ever expressed for me.' +</p> + +<p> +"'I did not think of you, or love you the less.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Mere words. Love cannot brook long separation from the object +beloved. It withers beneath neglect, and without personal intercourse +droops and dies. While you were happy and prosperous you never came +near us; and I repeat again—what brings you now?' +</p> + +<p> +"'I have been unfortunate, Alice; the dupe of villains who have robbed +me of my property, while my own folly has deprived me of self-respect +and peace of mind. Ill and heart-sick, I could not resist the strong +desire to return to my native place to die.' +</p> + +<p> +"'There is no peace here, Philip,' said she, in a low soft voice. 'I +too, would fain lie down on the lap of mother earth and forget my +misery. But we are too young—too wretched to die. Death comes to the +good and happy, and cuts down the strong man like the flower of the +field; but flies the wretch who courts it, and grins in ghastly +mockery on the couch of woe. Take my advice, Philip Mornington, lose +no time in leaving this place. Here, danger besets you on every side.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Why, Alice, do you think I fear the puny arm of Theophilus +Moncton—the base betrayer of innocence.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Why Theophilus. Spare your reproaches, Philip; we shall quarrel +seriously if you mention that name with disrespect to me—I cannot, +and will not bear it. It was not him I meant. You have offended our +grandmother by your long absence, Dinah loves you not. It is her anger +I would warn you to shun.' +</p> + +<p> +"'And do you think I am such a coward, as to tremble and fly from the +malice of a peevish old granny?' +</p> + +<p> +"'You laugh at my warning, Philip. You may repent rashness when too +late. The fang of the serpent is not deadened by age, and the rancour +in the human heart seldom diminishes, with years. Dinah never loved +you, and absence has not increased the strength of her affection.' +</p> + +<p> +"'I am not come to solicit charity, Alice. I have still enough to pay +the old woman handsomely for board and lodging until my health +returns, or death terminates my sufferings. If Dinah takes me—a fact +I do not doubt—she loves money. Where is she now?' +</p> + +<p> +"'In the village, I expect her in every minute.' +</p> + +<p> +"'And Miss Moncton?' I said, hesitating, and lowering my voice. 'How +is she?' +</p> + +<p> +"'I don't know,' returned Alice, carelessly, 'the Hall is no longer +open to me.' +</p> + +<p> +"'That tells its own tale,' said I sorrowfully. +</p> + +<p> +"'The tale may be false, in spite of probability,' returned she +fiercely. 'No one should dare openly condemn another without +sufficient evidence.' +</p> + +<p> +"'They need not go far for that,' said I. +</p> + +<p> +"'That is your opinion.' +</p> + +<p> +"'On most conclusive evidence.' +</p> + +<p> +"'How charitable.' +</p> + +<p> +"'How true, Alice.' +</p> + +<p> +"'False as the world. As you, as every one is to the unfortunate,' she +cried, with indignation in her eyes and scorn upon her lip, 'but here +is Dinah—Dinah, whom you consider unfeeling and cruel. She knows me, +and loves me better than you do. She does not join with a parcel of +conventional hypocrites to condemn me.' +</p> + +<p> +"As she ceased speaking, Dinah entered with a basket on her arm. After +the first surprise at my unexpected and unwelcome appearance was over, +she accosted me with more amenity of look and manner than I ever +before knew her to assume. +</p> + +<p> +"'How are you, Philip? you look ill. Suppose you have got into some +trouble, or we should not be honoured by a visit?' +</p> + +<p> +"'You are right, in part, grandmother. I have been sick for some days, +and have come home for change of air and good nursing.' +</p> + +<p> +"I put a handful of gold in her lap. 'You see I am willing and able to +pay for the trouble I give. When this is gone, you can have more.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Money is always welcome—more welcome often than those that bring +it. All things considered, however, I am glad to see you. When +relatives are too long separated, they become strangers to each other. +Alice and I had concluded that you only regarded us as such. The sight +of you will renew the old tie of kindred, and make you one of us +again. Quick, Alice, get your brother some supper; he must be hungry +after his long journey.' +</p> + +<p> +"'I am in no need; Alice, do not trouble yourself; I feel too ill to +eat; I will go to bed if you please. All I want at present is +<i>rest</i>.' +</p> + +<p> +"Dinah, who was passing the gold from one hand to the other, and +gazing upon it with infinite satisfaction, suddenly looked up and +repeated the last word after me, with peculiar emphasis. +</p> + +<p> +"'<i>Rest!</i> Who rests in this world? Even sleep is not rest; the +body sleeps, but the soul toils on, on, on, for ever. There is no such +thing as rest. If I thought so, I would put an end to my existence +to-morrow—I would; and meet death as a liberator from the vexatious +turmoils of life.' +</p> + +<p> +"There was something in these words which filled my mind with an +indescribable horror—a perfect dread of endless duration. I had +always looked upon the grave as a place of rest—a haven of peace from +the cares of life. That old raven, with her dismal croaking, had +banished the pleasing illusion, and made me nervously sensitive to the +terrors of a living, conscious eternity. Whilst undressing to go to +bed, I was seized with violent shivering fits, and before morning was +delirious, and in a high fever. +</p> + +<p> +"I had never suffered from severe illness before; I had often been +afflicted in mind, but not in body. I now had to endure the horrors of +both combined. For the first fortnight I was too ill to think. I was +in the condition of the unfortunate patriarch, who in the morning +exclaimed, 'Would God it were night!' and when night came, reversed +the feverish hope. +</p> + +<p> +"There were moments, however, during the burning hours of these +sleepless nights, when the crimes of the past, and the uncertainty of +the future, rushed before me in terrible distinctness; when I tried to +pray and could not, and sought comfort from the Word of God, and found +every line a condemnation. Oh, those dreadful days and nights, when I +lay a hopeless, self-condemned expectant of misery, shuddering on the +awful brink of eternity, shrieking to the Almighty Father for peace, +and finding none; seeking for rest with strong cries and tears, and +being repaid with ten-fold agony. May I never again suffer in flesh +and spirit what I then endured! +</p> + +<p> +"The poor lost girl who watched my bed, beheld the fierce tossings of +pain, the agonies of remorse, the icy apathy. She could neither direct +nor assist my mind in its struggles to obtain one faint glimmer of +light through the dense gloom caused by infidelity and sin. +</p> + +<p> +"Death—natural death—the mere extinction of animal life, I did not +dread. Had the conflict ended with annihilation, I might have welcomed +it with joy. But death unaccompanied by total extinction was horrible. +To be deprived of moral life—to find the soul for ever separated from +God, all its high and noble faculties destroyed, while all that was +infamous and debasing remained to form a hell of memory, an eternity +of despair, was a conviction so dreadful, so appalling to my mind, +that my reason for a time bowed before it, and for some days I was +conscious of nothing else. +</p> + +<p> +"This fiery trial yielded at last. I became more tractable, and could +think more calmly upon the awful subject ever uppermost in my mind. I +felt a strong desire to pray, to acknowledge my guilt to Almighty God, +and sue for pardon, and restoration to peace and happiness. I could +not express my repentance in words, I could only sigh and weep, but He +who looks upon the naked human heart, knew that my contrition was +sincere, and accepted the unformed petition. +</p> + +<p> +"As the hart panteth for the water brooks, so did my thirsty soul pant +for the refreshing waters of life. In feeble tones I implored Alice to +read to me from the New Testament. My eyes were so much affected by +the fever, that I could scarcely distinguish the objects round me. +</p> + +<p> +"The request was distasteful, and she evaded it for many days—at +last, replied testily. +</p> + +<p> +"'There is not such a book in the house—never was; and you know that +quite well.' +</p> + +<p> +"'You can borrow one from the schoolmaster in the village.' +</p> + +<p> +"'I will do no such thing. A pretty story truly, to go the rounds of +Moncton. That the Morningtons were such godless people they had no +Bible in the house, and had to borrow one. They say that Dinah is a +witch, and that would confirm it.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Send the boy that cuts sticks in the wood. Let him ask it as if for +his mother. I know Mr. Ludd will lend it for a good purpose; and tell +the boy I will give him half a sovereign for his pains.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Nonsense! Why that would buy the book.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Oh, do buy it, Alice, my good angel; for the love of God! send and +buy it. You will find my purse in my coat-pocket. It will be the best +money that was ever laid out by me.' +</p> + +<p> +"'You had better be still and go to sleep, Philip; you are too ill to +bear the fatigue of reading yet.' +</p> + +<p> +"This was dreadfully tantalizing, but I was forced to submit. The next +morning she brought me a cup of tea. I looked wistfully in her face. +</p> + +<p> +"'Dear Alice, you could give me something that would do me more good +than this.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Some broth, perhaps; sick people always fancy everything that is not +at hand.' +</p> + +<p> +"'That book.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Are you thinking about that still?' +</p> + +<p> +"'I long for the bread of life.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Do you want to turn Methodist?' +</p> + +<p> +"'I wish to become a Christian.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Are you not one already?' +</p> + +<p> +"'Oh, no, no, Alice! All my life long I have denied the word of God +and the power of salvation; and now, I would give the whole world, if +I possessed it, to obtain the true riches. Do, dear sister, grant my +earnest request, and may the God of all mercy bring you to a knowledge +of the truth.' +</p> + +<p> +"'I hate cant,' said Alice, discontentedly, 'but I will see what I can +do for you.' +</p> + +<p> +"She took some money from my purse and left the room. +</p> + +<p> +"Hours passed away. I listened for her returning footsteps until I +fell asleep. It was night when I again unclosed my eyes. Alice was +sitting by the little table reading. Oh, blessed sight. The Bible lay +open before her. +</p> + +<p> +"'I dreamt it,' I cried joyfully. 'I dreamt that you got it, and God +has brought it to pass. Oh, dear Alice you have made me so happy.' +</p> + +<p> +"'What shall I read? +</p> + +<p> +"I was puzzled; so much had I become a stranger to the sacred volume, +that though it had formed a portion of my school and college studies, +the little interest then felt in its contents, had made me almost a +stranger to them. +</p> + +<p> +"'Read the Gospel of St. John.' +</p> + +<p> +"'A chapter you mean.' +</p> + +<p> +"'As much as you can. Until you are tired.' +</p> + +<p> +"She began at the opening chapter of that sublime gospel, in which we +have so much of the mind of Jesus, though less of his wondrous +parables and miracles; but matter which is higher, more mysterious, +spiritual and satisfying to the soul. Nor could I suffer her to lay +aside the book until it was concluded. +</p> + +<p> +"How eagerly I drank in every word, and long after every eye was +closed in sleep I continued in meditation and prayer. A thousand times +I repeated to myself, 'And ye shall know the truth, and the truth +shall set you free,' What a glorious emancipation from the chains of +sin and death! Oh, how I longed for a knowledge of that truth, and the +answer came:—'O Lord thy word is truth;' and the problem in my soul +was satisfied, and with a solemn thanksgiving I devoted myself to the +service of God. A calm and holy peace came down upon my soul, and that +night I enjoyed the first refreshing sleep I had known for many weeks. +</p> + +<p> +"In the morning I was much better, but still too weak to leave my bed. +</p> + +<p> +"I spent most of the day in reading the Bible. Alice had relaxed much +of her attention and I only saw her during the brief periods when she +administered medicine, or brought me broth or gruel. +</p> + +<p> +"I felt hurt at her coldness; but it was something more than mere +coldness. Her manner had become sullen and disagreeable. She answered +me abruptly and in monosyllables, and appeared rather sorry than glad, +that I was in a fair way of recovering. +</p> + +<p> +"I often heard her and Dinah hold confused whispering conversations, +in the outer room into which mine opened, the cottage being entirely +on the ground floor, and one evening I thought I recognized the deep +tones of a man's voice. I tried to catch a part of their discourse, +but the sounds were too low and guarded to make anything out. A short +time after I heard the sound of horses' hoofs upon the gravel walk +which led past the cottage into the park. I sat up in the bed which +was opposite the window, which commanded a view of the road, and +perceived, to my dismay, that the stranger was no other than Robert +Moncton, who was riding towards the village. +</p> + +<p> +"A dread of something—I scarcely knew what—took possession of my +mind, and remembering my weak, helpless state, and how completely I +was in the power of Dinah North, I gave myself up to vague +apprehensions of approaching evil. +</p> + +<p> +"Ashamed of my weakness, I took the sacred volume from under my +pillow, and soon regained my self-possession. I felt that I was in the +hands of God, and that all things regarding me would be ordered for +the right. Oh, what a blessing is this trust in the care of an +overruling Providence! how it relieves one from brooding over the +torturing fears of what may accrue on the morrow, verifying the divine +proverb: 'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof!' +</p> + +<p> +"A thick, dark, rainy night had closed in, when my chamber door +opened, and Alice glided in. She held in her hand a small tray, on +which was a large tumbler of mulled wine and some dry toast. I had not +tasted food since noon, and I felt both faint and hungry. A strange, +ghastly expression flitted over my sister's face, which was unusually +pale, as she sat down on the side of the bed. +</p> + +<p> +"'You have been a long time away,' said I, with the peevish +fretfulness of an invalid. 'If you were ill and incapable of helping +yourself, Alice, I would not neglect you, and leave you for hours in +this way. I might have died during your absence.' +</p> + +<p> +"'No fear of that, Philip. You are growing cross, which is always a +good sign. I would have come sooner, but had so many things to attend +to, that it was impossible. Dinah is too old to work, and all the +household work falls on me. But, how are you?' +</p> + +<p> +"'Better, but very hungry.' +</p> + +<p> +"'I don't doubt it. It is time you took something. I have got a +little treat for you—some fine mulled sherry—it will do you good and +strengthen you.' +</p> + +<p> +"'I don't care for it,' said I, with an air of disgust. 'I am very +thirsty. Give me a cup of tea.' +</p> + +<p> +"'We got tea hours ago, when you were asleep, and there is not a drop +of hot water in the kettle. The wine is more nourishing. The doctor +recommended it. Do taste it, and see how good it is!' +</p> + +<p> +"'I tried to comply with her request. A shudder came over me as I put +the tumbler to my lips. 'It's of no use,' I said, putting it back on +to the tray. 'I cannot drink it.' +</p> + +<p> +"'If you love me, Philip, try. Drink a little, if you can, I made it +on purpose to please you.' +</p> + +<p> +"She bent her large bright eyes on me with an anxious, dubious +expression—a strange, wild look, such as I never saw her face wear +before. +</p> + +<p> +"I looked at her in return, with a curious, searching gaze. I did not +exactly suspect her of any evil intention towards me, but her manner +was mysterious, and excited surprise. +</p> + +<p> +"She changed colour, and turned away. +</p> + +<p> +"A sudden thought darted through my brain. Robert Moncton had been +there. He coveted my death, for what reason I could not fathom. I only +knew the fact. What if that draught were poison!—and suspicion, once +aroused, whispered it is poison. +</p> + +<p> +"I rose slowly in the bed, and grasped her firmly by the wrist. +</p> + +<p> +"'Alice! we will drink of that glass together. You look faint and +pale. The contents will set you all right. Take half and I will drink +the rest.' +</p> + +<p> +"'I never drink wine.' +</p> + +<p> +"'You dare not drink <i>that</i> wine,' said I. +</p> + +<p> +"'If I liked it, what should hinder me?' +</p> + +<p> +"'You could not like it, Alice. It is <i>poison</i>!' +</p> + +<p> +"A faint cry burst from her lips. +</p> + +<p> +"'God of heaven! who told you that?' +</p> + +<p> +"'Flesh and blood did not reveal it to me. Alice, Alice, how could I +imagine such a thing of you?' +</p> + +<p> +"'How, indeed!' murmured the wretched girl, weeping passionately. +'<i>She</i> persuaded me to bring it to you. <i>He</i> mixed the wine. +I—I had nothing else to do with it.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Yet to you, as a willing instrument of evil, they entrusted the most +important part of their hellish mission.' +</p> + +<p> +"She flung herself on her knees beside the bed, and raising her +clasped hands and streaming eyes to Heaven implored God to forgive her +for the crime she had premeditated against my life, binding herself in +an awful curse, not only to devise means to save my life, but to +remove me from the cottage. +</p> + +<p> +"'As to you, Philip, I dare not ask you to forgive me: I only implore +you not to curse me.' +</p> + +<p> +"'I should entertain a very poor opinion of myself, if I should refuse +to do the one, or attempt such an act of wickedness as is involved in +the other. But, Alice, do not think that I can excuse the commission +of such a dreadful crime as murder—and upon whom? A brother who loved +you tenderly—who, to his own knowledge, never injured you in word, +thought or deed.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Philip, you are not my brother, or the deed had never been +attempted.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Not your brother! Who am I then?' +</p> + +<p> +"'I cannot—dare not tell you. At least not now. Escape from this +dreadful place, and some future time may reveal it.' +</p> + +<p> +"'You talk of escape as a thing practicable and easy. I am so weak I +can scarcely stand, much less walk ten paces from the house. How can I +get away unknown to Dinah?' +</p> + +<p> +"'Listen to me—I will tell you.' She rose from her knees, and gliding +to the door which led to the outer room, she gently unclosed it, and +leaning forward looked cautiously into the outer space. Satisfied that +it was vacant, she returned stealthily to my bed-side. +</p> + +<p> +"'I must make Dinah believe that you have drank this wine. In less +than two hours you will, in her estimation, be dead. Not a creature +knows of your return. For our own sakes, we have kept your being here +a profound secret. Robert Moncton, however, was duly informed by Dinah +of your visit. He came this morning to the house, and they concocted +this scheme between them. She is now absent looking for a convenient +spot for a grave for your body when dead. She talked of the dark +shrubbery. That spot is seldom visited by any one, because the +neighbours fancy that it is haunted. You know how afraid we were of +going near those dark, shadowy yews when we were children. Margaret +used to call it the valley of the shadow of death.' +</p> + +<p> +"'And it was there,' said I, with a shudder, 'that you meant to bury +me?' +</p> + +<p> +"'There—I have promised to drag your body to the spot in a sack, and +help Dinah to make your grave. But hist! I thought I heard a step. We +have no time to waste in idle words.' +</p> + +<p> +"'She cannot bury me, you know, without my consent, before I am dead,' +said I, with a faint smile. 'Nor can I imagine how you will be able to +deceive her. She will certainly discover the difference between an +empty sack and a full one.' +</p> + +<p> +"'I have hit on a plan, which, if well managed, will lull her +suspicions to sleep. You know the broken statue of Apollo, that lies +at the entrance of the Lodge? It is about your size. It once belonged +to the Hall gardens, and Sir Alexander gave it to me for a plaything +years ago. I did not care for such a huge doll, and it has lain there +ever since. I will convey this to your chamber, and dress it in your +night-clothes. The sack will cover the mutilated limbs, and by the +dim, uncertain light of the dark lantern, she will never discover the +cheat.' +</p> + +<p> +"'But if she should insist on inspecting the body?' +</p> + +<p> +"'I will prevent it. In the meanwhile you must be prepared to leave +the house when I come to fetch the body.' +</p> + +<p> +"I felt very sick, and buried my face in the pillows. +</p> + +<p> +"'I do not care to go; let me stay here and die.' +</p> + +<p> +"'You must live for my sake,' cried the unhappy girl, clasping my cold +hand to her heart, and covering it with kisses. 'If you fail me now, +we are both lost. Dinah would never forgive me for betraying her and +Moncton. Do you doubt that what I have told you is true?' +</p> + +<p> +"'Not in the least, Alice; but I am so weak and ill—so forsaken and +unhappy, that I no longer care for the life you offer.' +</p> + +<p> +"'It was the gift of God. You must not throw it away. He may have work +on the earth which he requires you to do.' +</p> + +<p> +"These words saved me. I no longer hesitated to take the chance she +offered me, though I entertained small hopes of its success. Yet if +the hand of Providence was stretched out to rescue me from +destruction, it was only right for me to yield to its guidance with +obedient gratitude and praise. +</p> + +<p> +"Alice was about to leave the room: she once more returned to my side. +</p> + +<p> +"'Say that you forgive me, Philip.' +</p> + +<p> +"I folded her in my thin wasted arms, and imprinted a kiss on her +rigid brow. +</p> + +<p> +"'From my very heart!' +</p> + +<p> +"'God bless you! Philip. I will love and cherish your memory to my +dying hour.' +</p> + +<p> +"The house-door opened suddenly; she tore herself from my embrace. +'Dinah is coming—lie quite still—moan often, as if in pain, and +leave me to manage the rest.' +</p> + +<p> +"She left the chamber, and the door purposely ajar, that I might be +guided in my conduct by what passed between them. +</p> + +<p> +"'Did he drink it?' whispered the dreadful woman. +</p> + +<p> +"'He did.' +</p> + +<p> +"'And how does it agree with his stomach?' she laughed—her low, +horrid laugh. +</p> + +<p> +"'As might be expected—he feels <i>rather</i> qualmish.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Ha, ha,!' cried the old fiend, rubbing her withered long hands +together, 'you came Delilah over him. Our pretty Samson is caught at +last. Let me see—how long will it be before the poison takes +effect—about two hours—when did he take it?' +</p> + +<p> +"'About an hour ago. He is almost insensible. Don't you hear him +groan. The struggle will soon be over.' +</p> + +<p> +"'And then my bonny bird will have no rival to wealth and power. What +your mother, by her obstinate folly, lost, your wit and prudence, my +beauty, will regain.' +</p> + +<p> +"This speech of Dinah's was to me perfectly inexplicable. I heard +Alice sigh deeply, but she did not reply. +</p> + +<p> +"The old woman left the cottage but quickly returned. +</p> + +<p> +"'I want the spade.' +</p> + +<p> +"'You will find it in the out-house; the mattock is there, too; you +will need it to break the hard ground.' +</p> + +<p> +"'No, no; my arm is strong yet—stronger than you think, for a woman +of my years. The heavy rain has moistened the earth. The spade will do +the job; we need not make a deep grave. No one will ever look for him +there.' +</p> + +<p> +"'The place was always haunted, and it will be doubly so now.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Pshaw! who believes in ghosts. The dead are dead—lost—gone for +ever; grass springs from them, and their juices go to fatten worms and +nourish the weeds of the earth. Light me the lantern and I will defy +all the ghosts and demons in the world; and hark you, Alice, the +moment he is dead put the body in a sack, and call me to help to drag +it to the grave. I shall have it ready in no time.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Monster!' I muttered to myself, 'the pit you are preparing for me, +ere long, may open beneath your own feet.' +</p> + +<p> +"I heard the old woman close the front door after her, and presently +Alice re-entered my chamber. +</p> + +<p> +"'Well, thank God she is gone on her unholy task. Now, Philip! +now—lose no time—rise, dress yourself, and get off as fast as you +can!' +</p> + +<p> +"I endeavoured to obey, but exhausted by long sickness I fell back +fainting upon the bed. +</p> + +<p> +"'Stay,' said Alice, 'you are weak for the want of nourishment. I will +get you food and drink.' +</p> + +<p> +"She brought me a glass of port wine, and some sandwiches. I drank the +wine eagerly, but I could not touch the food. The wine gave me a +fictitious strength. After making several efforts I was able to rise +and dress, the excitement of the moment and the hope of escape acting +as powerful stimulants. I secured all that remained of my small fund +of money, tied up a change of linen in a pocket-handkerchief, kissed +the pale girl who stood cold and tearless at my side, and committing +myself to the care of God, stole out into the dark night. +</p> + +<p> +"I breathed again the fresh air, and my former vigour of mind +returned. I felt like one just freed from prison, after having had +sentence of death pronounced against him, I was once more free; I had +miraculously escaped from death and danger, and silently and fervently +I offered up a grateful prayer to the Heavenly Father, to whom I was +indebted for such a signal act of mercy. +</p> + +<p> +"You will think it strange, Geoffrey—the whim of a madman—but I felt +an insatiable curiosity to witness the interment of my supposed body, +to see how Alice would carry out the last act of the tragic drama. +</p> + +<p> +"The wish was no sooner formed, than I prepared to carry it into +execution. +</p> + +<p> +"The yew shrubbery lay at the north end of the cottage, and was +divided from the road, by a clipped holly hedge. A large yew tree grew +out of the centre of this hedge, which had been clipped to represent a +watch tower. Open spaces having been left for loop-holes. Through +these square green apertures, I had often, when a boy, made war upon +the blackbirds and sparrows, unseen by my tiny game. +</p> + +<p> +"By creeping close to the hedge, and looking through one of these +loop-holes, I could observe all that was passing within the shrubbery, +without being observed by Dinah or Alice. Cautiously stealing along, +for the night was intensely dark, and guiding my steps by the thick +hedge, which resembled a massy green wall, I reached the angle where +it turned off into the park. In this corner stood the green tower I +was seeking, and climbing softly the gate which led into the spacious +domain of the Monctons, I stepped upon a stone block used by the +domestics for mounting horses, and thus raised several feet from the +ground, I could distinctly observe, through the opening in the tree, +all that was passing below. +</p> + +<p> +"A faint light directly beneath me, gleamed up in the dense drizzly +darkness, and shone on the hideous features of that abhorred old +woman, who was leaning over a shallow grave she had just scooped out +of the wet dank soil. Her arms rested on the top of the spade, and she +scowled down into the pit that yawned at her feet, with a smile of +derision on her thin sarcastic lips. +</p> + +<p> +"'It's deep enough to hide him from the light of day. There's neither +a shroud nor coffin to take up the room, and he is worn to a skeleton +by his long sickness. Yes; there let him rest till the judgment-day! +the worm for his mate and the cold clay for his pillow; I wish the +same bed held all his accursed race. And his pale-faced, dainty +mother—where is she? Does her spirit hover near, to welcome her +darling to the land of dreams?' +</p> + +<p> +"A light step sounded on the narrow path which led from the shrubbery +to the cottage, accompanied by a dull lumbering sound. +</p> + +<p> +"Dinah raised the lantern from the side of the grave, and held it up +into the dark night. +</p> + +<p> +"'Alice?' +</p> + +<p> +"'Dinah!' +</p> + +<p> +"'Is he dead?' +</p> + +<p> +"'Yes. Here, lend a hand. The body is dreadfully heavy. I am almost +killed with dragging it hither.' +</p> + +<p> +"'You did not bring it alone!' +</p> + +<p> +"'Who could I ask to help me? and I was so afraid of discovery, I +dared not leave it to come for you.' +</p> + +<p> +"The old woman put down the light, and went to help her granddaughter. +</p> + +<p> +"'Let us roll the body into the grave, mother.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Not yet—I must look at him.' +</p> + +<p> +"'He makes a dreadful corpse.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Death is no flatterer, child. Hold up the light.' +</p> + +<p> +"'No, no!—You must not—you shall not triumph over him now. Let the +dead rest, I dare not look upon that blue cold face, those staring +eyes again.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Who wants you, foolish child? I wish to satisfy myself that my enemy +is dead.' +</p> + +<p> +"A scuffle ensued, in which the light was extinguished, and the +supposed body rolled heavily over into the grave. +</p> + +<p> +"'Oh, mother, mother! the light is out, and we're alone with the +corpse in this dreadful darkness.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Nonsense! how timid you are! Go back to the house, and re-light the +candle.' +</p> + +<p> +"'I dare not go alone.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Then let me go?' +</p> + +<p> +"'And leave me with him? Oh, not for worlds. Mother, mother! I hear +him moving in the grave. He is going to rise and drag me down into it. +Look—look! I see his eyes glaring in the dark hole. There, +mother—there!' +</p> + +<p> +"'Curse you for a weak fool! You make even my flesh creep.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Cover it up—cover it up!' cried Alice, pushing with her hands and +feet some of the loose earth into the grave. 'That ghastly face will +rise and condemn us at the Last Day. It will haunt me as long as I +live. Oh, 'tis terrible, terrible, to feel the stain of blood on your +soul, and to know that all the waters of the great ocean could never +wash it out.' +</p> + +<p> +"'I will go home with you, Alice, and return and close the grave +myself,' said Dinah, in a determined tone. 'If you stay here much +longer, you will make me as great a coward as yourself.' +</p> + +<p> +"I heard the sound of their retreating steps, and leaving my place of +concealment, slowly pursued my way to the next village. Entering a +small tavern, I asked for a supper and a bed. The innkeeper and his +wife were both known to me, but I was so much altered by sickness that +they did not recognize me. After taking a cup of tea, I retired to +rest, and was so overcome by mental and bodily fatigue, that I slept +soundly until noon the next day, when I breakfasted, and took a seat +in the mail coach for London. +</p> + +<p> +"During my journey I calmly pondered over my situation, and formed a +plan for the future, future, which I lost no time in putting into +practice. +</p> + +<p> +"From what had fallen from the lips of Alice, I was convinced that +some mystery was connected with my birth, and the only means which I +could devise to fathom it, was to gain more insight into the character +and private history of Robert Moncton. +</p> + +<p> +"At times the thought would present itself to my mind that this man +might be my father. My mother was a strange creature—a woman whose +moral principles could not have ranked very high. I scarcely knew, +from my own experience, whether she possessed any—at all events I +determined to get a place in his office, if possible, and wait +patiently until something should turn up, which might satisfy my +doubts, and expose the tissue of villainy which an untoward destiny +had woven around me. While at college, I had gained an extensive +knowledge in the jurisprudence of my country—in which I took great +delight, and which I had intended to follow as a profession; when, +unfortunately, the death of Mr. Mornington rendered me an independent +man. At school I had learned to write all sorts of hands, and could +engross with great beauty and accuracy. +</p> + +<p> +"As a man, I was personally unknown to Robert Moncton, whom I never +beheld but once, and for a few minutes only, when a boy, and time and +sickness had so altered me, that it was not very likely that he would +recognize me again. +</p> + +<p> +"Two years previous to the time of which I am now speaking, I had +saved the eldest son of Mr. Moncton's head clerk from drowning, at the +risk of my own life. Mr. Bassett was overwhelming in his expressions +of gratitude, and as to his poor little wife, she never mentioned the +circumstance with dry eyes. The boy, who was about ten years of age, +was a very noble, handsome little fellow, and I often walked to their +humble lodgings to see him and his good parents, who always received +me with the most lively demonstrations of joy. +</p> + +<p> +"To these good people I determined to apply for advice and assistance. +Fortunately my application was made in a lucky moment. Mr. Bassett was +about to leave your uncle's office, and he strongly recommended me to +his old master, as a person well known to him; of excellent character, +and who was every way competent to fill his place. +</p> + +<p> +"I was accepted. You know the rest." +</p> + +<hr class="short"> + +<p> +"Our friendship, dear Geoffrey," said Harrison, concluding the +narrative of his life, "rendered my situation far from irksome, while +it enabled me to earn a respectable living. At present, I have learned +little which can throw any additional light upon my sad history. Alice +Mornington still lives, and is about to become a mother. Theophilus, +the dastardly author of her wrongs, is playing the lover to the +beautiful Catherine Lee, who is a ward of his father's. +</p> + +<p> +"From the conversation which passed between Dinah North and Mr. +Moncton in your chamber, I suspect that my poor Alice is less guilty +than she appears. Dinah has some deeper motive than merely obliging +Robert Moncton, in wishing to make you illegitimate. I feel confident +that this story has been recently got up, and is an infamous +falsehood. If true, you would have heard of it before, and I advise +you to leave no stone unturned to frustrate their wicked conspiracy." +</p> + +<p> +"But what can I do?" said I. "I have neither money nor friends; and my +uncle will take precious good care that no one in this city shall give +me employment." +</p> + +<p> +"Go to Sir Alexander. He expressed an interest in your situation. Tell +him the story of your wrongs, and, depend upon it, he will not turn a +deaf ear to your complaint. I know that he hates both father and son, +and will befriend you to oppose and thwart them." +</p> + +<p> +My heart instantly caught at this proposal. +</p> + +<p> +"I will go!" I cried. "But I want the means." +</p> + +<p> +"I can supply you with the necessary funds," said George Harrison—for +I must still call him by his old name. "And my offer is not wholly +disinterested. Perhaps, Geoffrey, you may be the means of reconciling +your friend to his old benefactor. But this must be done cautiously. +Dinah North must not know that I am alive. Her ignorance of this fact +places this wicked woman in our power, and may hereafter force her to +reveal what we want to know." +</p> + +<p> +I promised implicit obedience to these injunctions, and thanked him +warmly for his confidence and advice. His story had made a deep +impression on my mind. I longed to serve him. Indeed, I had become +very warmly attached to him; regarding him in the light of a beloved +brother. +</p> + +<p> +In a fortnight, I was able to walk abroad, and was quite impatient to +undertake my Yorkshire journey. Harrison was engaged as a writer in +the office of a respectable solicitor in Lincoln's Inn Fields, and we +promised to correspond regularly with each other during my absence. He +generously divided with me the little money he possessed, and bidding +God bless and prosper my journey, bade me farewell. I mounted the York +stage, and for the first time in my life, bade adieu to London and its +environs. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +<a name="III">CHAPTER III.</a> +</p> + +<p class="head"> +MY VISIT TO MONCTON PARK. +</p> + + +<p> +It was a fine, warm, balmy evening in May—green delicious May. With +what delight I gazed abroad upon the face of Nature. Every scene was +new to me, and awakened feelings of curiosity and pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +Just out of a sick-bed, and after having been confined for weeks in a +dusky, badly-ventilated and meanly-furnished garret, my heart actually +bounded with rapture, and, I drank in health and hope from the fresh +breeze which swept the hair from my pale brow and hollow cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +Ah, glorious Nature! beautiful, purest of all that is pure and holy! +Thou visible perfection of the invisible God. I was young then, and +now am old, but never did I find a genuine love of thee, dwelling in +the heart of a deceitful, wicked man. To love thee, we must adore the +God who made thee; and however sin may defile what originally He +pronounced good, when we return with child-like simplicity to thy +breast, we find the happiness and peace which a loving parent can +alone bestow. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing remarkable occurred during my journey. The coach in due time +deposited me at the gates of the Lodge, in which my poor friend +Harrison had first seen the light. An involuntary shudder ran through +me, when I recognized old Dinah North, standing within the porch of +the cottage. +</p> + +<p> +She instantly knew me, and drew back with a malignant scowl. +</p> + +<p> +Directing the coachman to leave my portmanteau at the village inn +until called for, I turned up the broad avenue of oaks that led to the +Hall. +</p> + +<p> +The evening was calm and lovely. The nightingale was pouring his first +love-song to the silent dewy groves. The perfume of the primrose and +violet made every swelling knoll redolent of sweets. I paused often, +during my walk, to admire the beauty of a scene so new to me. Those +noble hills and vales; that bright-sweeping river; those towering +woods, just bursting into verdure, and that princely mansion, rising +proudly into the blue air—all would be mine, could I but vindicate my +mother's honour, and prove to the world that I was the offspring of +lawful wedlock. +</p> + +<p> +I felt no doubt myself upon the subject. Truth may be obscured for a +while, but cannot long remain hid. The innate consciousness of my +mother's moral rectitude never for a moment left my mind—a proud +conviction of her innocence, which, I was certain, time would make +clear. +</p> + +<p> +Full of these reflections, I approached the Hall. It was an +old-fashioned building, which had been created during the wars of York +and Lancaster, now venerable with the elemental war of ages, and might +in its day have stood the shock of battle and siege. It was a fine old +place, and associated as it was with the history of the past sent a +thrill of almost superstitious awe through my heart. +</p> + +<p> +For upwards of three hundred years it had been the birth-place of my +family. Here they had lived and flourished as Lords of the soil; here, +too, most of them had died, and been gathered into one common +burial-place, in the vault of the picturesque gothic church, which +stood embosomed in trees not far from the old feudal mansion. +</p> + +<p> +And I, the rightful heir of the demesne, with a soul as large,—with +heart and hand equal to do and dare, all that they in their day and +generation had accomplished—approached the old home, poor and +friendless, with a stigma upon the good name, which legally I might +never be able to efface. +</p> + +<p> +But, courage, Geoffrey Moncton! He who first added the appendage of +Sir to that name, rode among the victors at the battle of Cressy, and +the war-shout of one of his descendants rang out defiantly on the +bloody field of Agincourt! Why need you despair? England wants +soldiers yet, and if you fail in establishing your claims to that name +and its proud memories, win one, as others have done before you, at +the cannon's mouth. +</p> + +<p> +I sent up my card, which gained me instant admittance. I was shown +into the library, which Harrison had so often described. A noble old +room panelled to the ceiling, with carved oak now almost black with +age. Here I found the Baronet engaged with his daughter in a game at +chess. He rose to meet me with evident marks of pleasure, and +introduced me to Miss Moncton, as a young cousin, in whom he felt much +interested, and one with whom he hoped to see her better acquainted. +</p> + +<p> +With a soft blush, and a smile of inexpressible sweetness, the little +fairy, for she was almost as diminutive in stature, bade me welcome. +</p> + +<p> +Her face, though very pleasing, was neither striking nor beautiful. It +was, however, exquisitely feminine, and beaming with intelligence, +dignity and truth. Her large, dark, soul-lighted eyes were singularly +beautiful. Her complexion, too fair and pale for health; the rich +ruby-coloured full lips and dazzling teeth, forming a painful contrast +with the pure white cheeks, shaded by a dark cloud of raven tresses, +which, parting on either side of her lofty brow, flowed in rich curls +down her snowy neck, and over her marble shoulders to her waist. +</p> + +<p> +Her figure in miniature comprised all that was graceful and lovely in +woman; and her frank, unsophisticated manners rendered her, in spite +of a faulty mouth, very attractive. +</p> + +<p> +After exchanging a few sentences, Miss Moncton withdrew, and I lost no +time in explaining to her father the cause of my visit; the manner in +which I had been treated by my uncle, my recent illness, and the utter +friendlessness of my position. "You told me, sir, to come to you at +any crisis of difficulty, for advice and assistance. I have done so, +and shall feel most grateful for your counsels in the present +emergency. I am willing and able to work for my bread; I only want an +opening to be made in order to get my own living." +</p> + +<p> +"Your profession, Geoffrey; why not stick to that?" +</p> + +<p> +"Most gladly would I do so, had not Robert Moncton put the finishing +stroke to his tyranny, by tearing my indentures, and by this malicious +act destroyed the labour of seven years." +</p> + +<p> +"The scoundrel! the mean, cowardly scoundrel!" cried Sir Alexander, +striking the table with such violence with his clenched hand, that +kings, queens, knights, bishops and commoners made a general movement +to the other side of the chess-board. "Never mind, Geoffrey, my boy, +give me your hand—I will be your friend. I will restore you to your +rights, if it costs me the last shilling in my purse—ay, or the last +drop in my veins. Let the future for a short time take care of itself. +Make this your home; look upon me as your father, and we shall yet +live to see this villain reap the reward of his evil deeds." +</p> + +<p> +"Generous, noble man!" I cried, while tears of joy and gratitude +rolled down my cheeks: "how can I ever hope to repay you for such +disinterested goodness?" +</p> + +<p> +"By never alluding to the subject, Geoffrey. Give me back the love +your father once felt for me, and I shall be more than repaid. +Besides, my lad, I am neither so good nor so disinterested as you give +me credit for. I detest, despise that uncle of yours, and I know the +best way to annoy him is to befriend you, and get you safe out of his +villainous clutches. This is hardly doing as I would be done by, but I +can't help it. No one blames another for taking a fly out of a +spider's web, when the poor devil is shrieking for help, although he +be the spider's lawful prey; but who does not applaud a man for +rescuing his fellow man from the grasp of a scoundrel! By-the-by, +Geoffrey," added he, "have you dined?" +</p> + +<p> +"At the last inn we stopped at on the road." +</p> + +<p> +"The Hart; a place not very famous for good cheer. Their beef is +generally as hard as their deer's horns. Let me order up +refreshments." +</p> + +<p> +"By no means. You forget, Sir Alexander, that of late I have not been +much used to good living. The friend on whose charity I have been +boarding is a poor fellow like myself." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, we must have our chat over a glass of old wine." +</p> + +<p> +He rang the bell. The wine was soon placed upon the table, and most +excellent wine it proved. I was weak from my long confinement to a +sick chamber, and tired with my long journey; I never enjoyed a glass +of wine so much in my life. +</p> + +<p> +"What do you think of Moncton, Geoffrey?" +</p> + +<p> +"It is a glorious old place." +</p> + +<p> +"Wish it were yours—don't you? Confess the truth, now." +</p> + +<p> +"Some fifty years hence," said I, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +"You would then be too old to enjoy it, Geoffrey; but wait patiently +God's good time, and it may be yours yet. There was a period in my +life," and he sighed a long, deep, regretful sigh, "when I hoped that +a son of mine would be master here, but as that cannot be, I am doomed +to leave no male heir to my name and title, I know no one whom I would +rather see in the old place than my cousin Edward's son." +</p> + +<p> +"Your attachment to my father must have been great, when, after so +many years, you extend it to his son." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Geoffrey, I loved that wild, mad-cap father of yours better than +I ever loved any man; but I suffered one rash action to separate +hearts formed by nature to understand and appreciate each other. You +are not acquainted with this portion of the family history. Pass the +bottle this way, and I will enlighten your ignorance." +</p> + +<p> +"When your grandfather, in the plenitude of his worldly wisdom (for he +had a deal of the fox in his character), left the guardianship of his +sons to his aged father, it was out of no respect for the old +gentleman, whom had cast him off rather unceremoniously, when his +plebeian tastes led him to prefer being a rich citizen, rather than a +poor gentleman; but he found, that though he amassed riches, he had +lost caste, and he hoped by this act to restore his sons, for whom he +had acquired wealth, to their proper position in society. +</p> + +<p> +"My grandfather, Sir Robert, grumbled a good deal at being troubled +with the guardianship of the lads in his old age. But when he saw +those youthful scions of his old house, he was so struck with their +beauty and talents, that from that hour they held an equal place in +his affections with myself, the only child of his eldest son, and heir +to his estates. +</p> + +<p> +"I was an extravagant, reckless young fellow of eighteen, when my +cousins first came to live at Moncton; and I hailed their advent with +delight. Edward, I told you before, had been an old chum of mine at +school; and when Robert was placed in a lawyer's office, he +accompanied me to college to finish my education. He was intended to +fill his father's place in the mercantile world, but he had little +talent or inclination for such a life. All his tastes were decidedly +aristocratic, and I fear that my expensive and dissipated habits +operated unfavourably on his open, generous, social disposition. +</p> + +<p> +"With a thousand good qualities, and possessing excellent qualities, +Edward Moncton was easily led astray by the bad example of others. He +was a fine musician, had an admirable voice, a brilliant wit, and +great fluency of speech, which can scarcely be called advantageous +gifts, to those who don't know how to make a proper use of them. He +was the life of the society in which we moved, courted and admired +wherever he went, and a jolly time we had of it, I can tell you, in +those classical abodes of learning, and frequently of sin. +</p> + +<p> +"Edward gave me his whole heart, and I loved him with the most entire +affection. But, though I saw that my example acted most perniciously +on his easy disposition, I wanted the moral courage to give up a +course of gaiety, in order to save him from ruin. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor Edward!—I would give worlds to recall the past. But the bad +seed was sown, and in time we reaped the bitter fruits. +</p> + +<p> +"With all my faults, I was never a gambler; women, wine, and +extravagant living, were my chief derelictions from the paths of +rectitude. But even while yielding to these temptations, I was neither +an habitual drunkard nor a profligate, though I frequented haunts, +where both characters were constantly found, and ranked many such men +among my chosen friends and associates. My moral guilt, was perhaps as +great as theirs; for it is vain for a man to boast of his not being +intemperate, because nature has furnished him with nerves which enable +him to drink, in defiance to reason, quantities which would deprive +the larger portion of men of their senses. +</p> + +<p> +"Your father thought, boy like (for he was full three years my +junior), to prove his title to manhood by following closely in my +steps, and too soon felt the evil effects of such a leader. He wasted +his health in debauchery, and wine maddened him. The gaming-table held +out its allurements, he wanted fortitude to resist its temptation, and +was the loser to a considerable amount. He kept this a secret from me. +He was a minor, and he feared that it might reach my grandfather's +ears, and that Sir Robert would stop the supplies, until his debts +were paid. I heard of it through a mutual friend, and very +consistently imagined the crime far greater than any that I had +committed. +</p> + +<p> +"The night before we left college, I followed him to his favourite +rendezvous, held in the rooms of a certain young nobleman, unknown to +the authorities, where students who were known to belong to wealthy +parents, met to play hazard and écarté, and lose more money at a +sitting, than could be replaced by the economy of years. +</p> + +<p> +"I was not one of Lord ——'s clique, and I sent my card to Edward by +a friend, requesting to speak to him on a matter of importance. After +some delay, he came out to me. He was not pleased at being disturbed, +and was much flushed with wine. +</p> + +<p> +"'What do you want, Alick?' said he, in no very gentle tones. +</p> + +<p> +"'I want you to come and help me prepare for our journey to-morrow.' +</p> + +<p> +"'There will be plenty of time for that, by-and-by. I am engaged, and +don't choose to be dictated to like a school-boy.' +</p> + +<p> +"'You are mad,' said I, taking hold of his arm, 'to go there at all. +Those fellows will cheat you out of every penny you have.' +</p> + +<p> +"'That's my own look-out. I tell you once for all, Alick, I don't +choose you to ride rough-shod over me, because you fancy yourself +superior. I will do as I please. I have lost a deal of money to-night, +and I mean to play on until I win it back.' +</p> + +<p> +"You will only lose more. You are not in a fit state to deal with +sharpers. You are so tipsy now, you can hardly stand.' +</p> + +<p> +"As I said this, I put my arm around him to lead him away, when he, +maddened I suppose by drink and his recent losses, burst from me, and +turning sharp round, struck me a violent blow on the face. 'Let that +satisfy you, whether I am drunk or sober,' he exclaimed, and with a +bitter laugh, returned to the party he had quitted. +</p> + +<p> +"Geoffrey, I felt that blow in my heart. The disgrace was little in +comparison to the consciousness that it came from his hand—the hand +of the friend I loved. I could have returned the injury with ten-fold +interest; but I did nothing of the sort. I stood looking after him +with dim eyes and a swelling heart, repeating to myself— +</p> + +<p> +"'Is it possible that Edward struck me?' +</p> + +<p> +"That blow, however, achieved a great moral reformation. It led me to +think—to examine my past life, and to renounce for ever those +follies, which I now felt were debasing to both soul and body, and +unworthy the pursuit of any rational creature. +</p> + +<p> +"The world expected me, as a gentleman, to ask satisfaction of Edward +for the insult I had received. +</p> + +<p> +"I set the, world and its false laws at defiance. +</p> + +<p> +"I returned to my lodgings and wrote him a brief note, telling him +that I forgave him, and gently remonstrating with him on the violence +of his conduct. +</p> + +<p> +"Instead of answering, or apologizing for what he had done, he +listened to the advice of a pack of senseless idiots, who denounced me +as a coward, and lauded his rash act to the skies. +</p> + +<p> +"To seek a reconciliation, would be to lose his independence, they +said, and prove to the world that he had been in the wrong. I, on my +part, was too proud to solicit his friendship, and left London before +the effort of mutual friends had effected a change in his feelings. +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps, as the injurer, he never forgave me for being the originator +of the quarrel: be that as it may, we never met again. My grandfather +died shortly after. I formed an unfortunate attachment to a person far +beneath me in rank, and but for the horror of entailing upon myself +her worthless mother, would certainly have made her my wife. To avoid +falling into this snare, I went abroad for several years, and +ultimately married a virtuous and lovely woman, and became a happy +husband and father, and I hope a better man." +</p> + +<p> +The Baronet ceased speaking for a few minutes, then said with a half +smile. +</p> + +<p> +"Geoffrey, men are sad fools. After losing that angel, I came very +near marrying my old flame, who was a widow at the time, and as +handsome as ever. She died most opportunely, I am now convinced, for +my comfort and respectability, and I gave up all idea of taking a +second wife." +</p> + +<p> +This account tallied exactly with Harrison's story, which had given me +a key to the Baronet's history. I inquired, rather anxiously, if he +and my father remained unreconciled up to the period of his death. +</p> + +<p> +"'I wrote to him frequently, Geoffrey,' he replied, 'when time had +healed the wound he inflicted on my heart, but he never condescended +to reply to any of my communications. I have since thought that he +<i>did</i> write, and that his brother Robert, who was always jealous +of our friendship, destroyed the letters. I assure you, that this +unnatural estrangement formed one of the saddest events in my life; +and for the love I still bear his memory, I will never desert his +orphan son.'" +</p> + +<p> +I thanked the worthy Baronet again and again, for the generous +treatment I had received from him, and we parted at a late hour, +mutually pleased with each other. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +<a name="IV">CHAPTER IV.</a> +</p> + +<p class="head"> +A SAD EVENT. +</p> + + +<p> +A few weeks' residence found me quite at home at the Hall. My +new-found relatives treated me with the affectionate familiarity which +exists between old and long-tried friends. I ceased to feel myself the +despised <i>poor relation</i>; a creature rarely loved and always in +the way, expected to be the recipient of all the kicks and cuffs of +the family to whom his ill-fortune has made him an attaché, and to +return the base coin with smiles and flattering speeches. +</p> + +<p> +Of all lots in this hard world, the hardest to bear must be that of a +domestic drudge; war, war to the knife is better than such humiliating +servitude. I could neither fawn nor cringe, and the Baronet, who was a +high-spirited man himself, loved me for my independence. +</p> + +<p> +The summer had just commenced. No hunting, no shooting to while away +an idle hour. But Sir Alexander was as fond of old Izaak Walton's +gentle craft, as that accomplished piscator, and we often rose at +early dawn to stroll through the dewy pastures to the stream which +crossed the park, which abounded with trout, and I soon became an +excellent angler, hooking my fish in the most scientific manner. +</p> + +<p> +When the days were not propitious for our sport, I accompanied Sir +Alexander in his rides, in visiting his model farms, examining the +progress of his crops, the making of hay, the improved breeds of sheep +and cattle, and all such healthy and rural employments, in which he +took a patriarchal delight. +</p> + +<p> +Margaretta generally accompanied us on these expeditions. She was an +excellent equestrian, and managed her high-bred roan with much skill +and ease, never disturbing the pleasure of the ride by nervous or +childish fears. +</p> + +<p> +"Madge is a capital rider!" would the old Baronet exclaim. "I taught +her myself. There is no affectation—no show-off airs in her riding. +She does that as she does everything else, in a quiet, natural way." +</p> + +<p> +The enjoyment of our country life was seldom disturbed by visitors. +All the great folks were in London; the beauties of nature possessing +far less attractions for them than the sophisticated gaieties of the +season in town. If his youth had been dissipated, Sir Alexander +courted retirement in age, and was perfectly devoted to the quiet +happiness of a domestic life. +</p> + +<p> +Margaretta, who shared all his tastes, and whose presence appeared +necessary to his existence, had spent one season in London, but cared +so little for the pleasures of the metropolis, that she resisted the +urgent entreaties of her female friends to accompany them to town a +second time. +</p> + +<p> +"I hate London, Cousin Geoffrey. There is no room in its crowded +scenes for nature and truth. Every one seems intent upon acting a lie, +and living in defiance of their reason and better feelings. I never +could feel at home there. I mistrusted myself and every one else, and +never knew what true happiness was, until I returned to the unaffected +simplicity of a country life." +</p> + +<p> +These sentiments were fully reciprocated by me, who had passed, within +the smoky walls of the huge metropolis the most unhappy period of my +life. +</p> + +<p> +Same hours, every day, were devoted by Sir Alexander to business, +during which he was closely closeted with Mr. Hilton, his steward, and +to disturb him at such times was regarded by him as an act of high +treason. +</p> + +<p> +During these hours, Margaretta and I were left to amuse ourselves in +the best manner we could. She was a fine pianist. I had inherited my +father's passion for music, and was never tired of listening to her +while she played. If the weather was unfavourable for a ride or stroll +in the Park, I read aloud to her, while she painted groups of flowers +from nature, for which she had an exquisite taste. The time fled away +only too fast, and this mingling of amusement and mental occupation +was very delightful to me, whose chief employment for years had been +confined to musty parchments in a dull, dark office. +</p> + +<p> +Our twilight rambles through the glades of the beautiful park, at that +witching hour when both eye and heart are keenly alive to sights and +sounds of beauty, possessed for me the greatest charm. +</p> + +<p> +I loved—but only as a brother loves—the dear, enthusiastic girl, who +leaned so confidingly on my arm, whose glorious eyes, lighted up from +the very fountain of passion and feeling, were raised to mine as if to +kindle in my breast the fire of genius which emanated from her own. +</p> + +<p> +Her vivid imagination, fostered in solitude, seized upon everything +bright and beautiful in nature, and made it her own. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"The lips of song burst open</p> +<p>And the words of fire rushed out."</p></div></div> + +<p> +At such moments it was impossible to regard Margaretta with +indifference. I could have loved, nay, adored, had not my mind been +preoccupied with a fairer image. +</p> + +<p> +Margaretta was too great a novice in affairs of the heart, to notice +the guarded coolness of my homage. My society afforded her great +pleasure, and she wanted the common-place tact of her sex to disguise +it from me. +</p> + +<p> +Dear, lovely, confiding Margaretta, how beautiful does your simple +truth and disinterested affection appear, as I look back through the +long vista of years, and find in the world so few who resemble thee! +</p> + +<p> +Towards the close of a hot day in June we visited the fragrant fields +of new-mown hay, and Margaretta tired herself by chasing a pair of +small, coquettish blue butterflies, who hovered along the hedge, which +bounded the dusty highway, like living gems, and not succeeding in +capturing the shy things, she proposed leaving the road, and returning +home through the Park. +</p> + +<p> +"With all my heart," said I. "We will rest under your favourite beech, +while you, dear Madge, sing with your sweet voice, the +</p> + +<p class="ctr"> + "Drowsy world to rest." +</p> + +<p> +We crossed a stile, and entered one of the broad, green arcades of the +glorious old Park. +</p> + +<p> +For some time we reposed upon the velvet sward, beneath Margaretta's +favourite tree. The slanting red beams of the setting sun scarcely +forced their way through the thickly interlaced boughs of the forest. +The sparkling wavelets of the river ran brawling at our feet, fighting +their way among the sharp rocks that opposed a barrier to their +downward course. We bathed our temples in the cool, clear waters. +Margaretta forgot the dusty road, the independent blue butterflies, +and her recent fatigue. +</p> + +<p> +"There is no music after all like the music of nature, Geoffrey," she +said, untying her straw bonnet, and throwing it on the grass beside +her, while she shook a shower of glossy black ringlets back from her +small oval face. +</p> + +<p> +"Not that it is the instrument, but the soul that breathes through it, +which makes the music. And Nature, pouring her soul into these waves, +and stirring with her plaintive sighs these branches above us, awakens +sounds which find an echo in the heart of all her children, who remain +true to the teachings of the divine mother." Then turning suddenly to +me, she said, "Geoffrey, do you sing?" +</p> + +<p> +"To please myself. I play upon the flute much better than I sing. +During the last half year I remained with my uncle I took lessons of +an excellent master, and having a good ear, and being passionately +fond of music, I gained considerable proficiency. I had been an +amateur performer for years." +</p> + +<p> +"And you never told me one word of this before." +</p> + +<p> +"I did not wish to display all my trifling stock of accomplishments at +once," said I, with a smile. "Those who possess but little are wise to +reserve a small portion of what they have. You shall test its value +the next rainy day." +</p> + +<p> +"In the absence of the flute, Geoffrey, you must give me a song. A +song that harmonizes with this witching hour and holiday time o' the +year." +</p> + +<p> +"Then it must necessarily be a love song," said I; "youth and spring +being the best adapted to inspire the joyousness of love." +</p> + +<p> +"Call not love joyous, Geoffrey; it is a sad and fearful thing to +love. Love that is sincere is a hidden emotion of the heart; it +shrinks from vain laughter, and is most eloquent when silent, or only +revealed by tears." +</p> + +<p> +I started, and turned an anxious gaze upon her pale, spiritual face. +</p> + +<p> +What right had I to be jealous of her? I who was devoted to another. +Yet jealous I was, and answered rather pettishly: +</p> + +<p> +"You talk feelingly, fair cousin, as if you had experienced the +passion you describe. Have you tasted the bitter sadness of +disappointed love?" +</p> + +<p> +"I did not say that." And she blushed deeply. "You chose to infer it." +</p> + +<p> +I did not reply. The image of Harrison rose in my mind. For the first +time I saw a strong likeness between them. Such a likeness as is often +found between persons who strongly assimilate—whose feelings, tastes, +and pursuits are the same. +</p> + +<p> +Was it possible that she had loved him? I was anxious to find out if +my suspicions were true; and without any prelude or apology commenced +singing a little air that Harrison had taught me, both music and words +being his own. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i12">SONG.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I loved you long and tenderly,</p> +<p class="i2">I urged my suit with tears;</p> +<p>But coldly and disdainfully</p> +<p class="i2">You crushed the hope of years.</p> +<p>I gazed upon your glowing cheek,</p> +<p class="i2">I met your flashing eye;</p> +<p>The words I strove in vain to, speak</p> +<p class="i2">Were smothered in a sigh.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I swore to love you faithfully,</p> +<p class="i2">Till death should bid us part;</p> +<p>But proudly and reproachfully,</p> +<p class="i2">You spurned a loyal heart.</p> +<p>Despair is bold—you turned away,</p> +<p class="i2">And wished we ne'er had met,</p> +<p>Through many a long and weary day</p> +<p class="i2">That parting haunts me yet.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Nor think that chilling apathy,</p> +<p class="i2">Can passion's tide repress—</p> +<p>Ah, no! with fond idolatry,</p> +<p class="i2">I would not love thee less.</p> +<p>Your image meets me in the crowd,</p> +<p class="i2">Like some fair beam of light,</p> +<p>That bursting through its sombre cloud</p> +<p class="i2">Makes glad the brow of night.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Then turn my hard captivity,</p> +<p class="i2">Nor let me sue in vain,</p> +<p>Whilst with unshaken constancy,</p> +<p class="i2">I seek your feet again.</p> +<p>One smile of thine can cheer the heart,</p> +<p class="i2">That only beats to be</p> +<p>United, ne'er again to part—</p> +<p class="i2">My life! my soul!—from thee.</p></div></div> + +<p> +I sang my best, and was accounted by all the young men of my +acquaintance, to have a fine manly voice. But I was not rewarded by a +single word or encouraging smile. +</p> + +<p> +Margaretta's head was bowed upon her hands, and tears were streaming +fast through her slender fingers. +</p> + +<p> +"Margaret, dearest Margaret!" for in speaking to her, I always dropped +the Italianized termination of her name. "Are you ill. Do speak to +me." +</p> + +<p> +She still continued to weep. +</p> + +<p> +"I wish I had not sung that foolish song." +</p> + +<p> +"It was only sung too well, Geoffrey." And she slowly raised her head +and put back the hair from her brow. "Ah, what sad, what painful +recollections does that song call up. But with these, you have nothing +to do. I will not ask you how you became acquainted with that air; but +I request as a great favour, that you will never sing or play it to me +again." +</p> + +<p> +She relapsed into silence, which I longed to break but did not know +how. At length she rose from the bank on which we had been seated, +resumed her bonnet, and expressed a wish to return to the Hall. +</p> + +<p> +"The night has closed in very fast," said she, "or is the gloom +occasioned by the shadow of the trees?" +</p> + +<p> +"It is only a few minutes past seven," I replied, looking at my watch. +"The hay-makers have not yet left their work." We had followed the +course of the stream, on our homeward path, and now emerged into an +open space in the Park. The sudden twilight which had descended upon +us was caused by a heavy pile of thunder clouds which hung frowning +over the woods, and threatened to overtake us before we could reach +the Hall. +</p> + +<p> +"How still and deep the waters lie," said Margaretta. "There is not a +breath of wind to ruffle them or stir the trees. The awful stillness +which precedes a storm inspires me with more dread, than when it +launches forth with all its terrific powers." +</p> + +<p> +"Hark! There's the first low peal of thunder, and the trees are all +trembling and shivering in the electric blast which follows it. How +sublimely beautiful, is this magnificent war of elements." +</p> + +<p> +"It is very true, dear cousin, but if you stand gazing at the clouds, +we shall both get wet." +</p> + +<p> +"Geoffrey," said Margaretta, laughing, "there is nothing poetical +about you." +</p> + +<p> +"I have been used to the commonest prose all my life, Madge. But here +we are at the fishing-house: we had better stow ourselves away with +your father's nets and tackles until this heavy shower is over." +</p> + +<p> +No sooner said than done. We crossed a rustic bridge which spanned the +stream, and ascending a flight of stone steps, reached a small +rough-cast building, open in front, with a bench running round three +sides of it, and a rude oak table in the middle, which was covered +with fishing-rods, nets, and other tackle belonging to the gentle +craft. +</p> + +<p> +From this picturesque shed Sir Alexander, in wet weather, could follow +his favourite sport, as the river ran directly below, and it was +considered the best spot for angling, the water expanding here into a +deep still pool, much frequented by the finny tribes. +</p> + +<p> +We were both soon seated in the ivy-covered porch, the honey-suckle +hanging its perfumed tassels, dripping with the rain, above our heads, +while the clematis and briar-rose gave out to the shower a double +portion of delicate incense. +</p> + +<p> +The scene was in unison with Margaretta's poetical temperament. She +enjoyed it with her whole heart; her beautiful eyes brimful of love +and adoration. +</p> + +<p> +The landscape varied every moment. Now all was black and lowering; +lightnings pierced with their arrowy tongues the heavy foliage of the +frowning woods, and loud peals of thunder reverberated among the +distant hills; and now a solitary sunbeam struggled through a rift in +the heavy cloud, and lighted up the gloomy scene with a smile of +celestial beauty. +</p> + +<p> +Margaretta suddenly grasped my arm; I followed the direction of her +eye, and beheld a tall female figure, dressed in deep mourning, pacing +too and fro on the bridge we had just crossed. Her long hair, +unconfined by cap or bandage, streamed in wild confusion round her wan +and wasted features, and regardless of the pelting of the pitiless +storm, she continued to hurry backwards and forwards, throwing her +hands into the air, and striking her breast like one possessed. +</p> + +<p> +"Who is she?" I whispered. +</p> + +<p> +"The wreck of all that once was beautiful," sighed Margaretta, "It is +Alice Mornington, the daughter of one of my father's tenants." +</p> + +<p> +"Alice Mornington! Good Heavens! is that poor mad woman Alice +Mornington?" +</p> + +<p> +Margaretta looked surprised. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you know this poor girl?" +</p> + +<p> +I felt that I had nearly betrayed myself, and stammered out, "Not +personally; I know something of her private history, which I heard +accidentally before I came here." +</p> + +<p> +"Geoffrey, no sister ever loved another more devotedly than I loved +that poor girl—than I love her still. After she forsook the path of +virtue, my father forbade me having the least intercourse with her. My +heart bleeds to see her thus. I cannot stand calmly by and witness her +misery. Stay here, while I go and speak to her." +</p> + +<p> +With noiseless tread she glided down the stone steps, and gained the +bridge. The quick eye of the maniac (for such she appeared to be) +however, had detected the movement, and with a loud shriek she flung +herself into the water. +</p> + +<p> +To spring to the bank, to plunge into the stream, and as she rose to +the surface, to bear the wretched girl to the shore, was but the work +of a moment. Brief as the time was that had elapsed between the rash +act and her rescue, she was already insensible, and with some +difficulty I succeeded in carrying her up the steep steps to the +fishing-house. It was some seconds before suspended animation +returned, and when at length the large blue eyes unclosed, Alice awoke +to consciousness on the bosom of the fond and weeping Margaretta. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Miss Moncton!" sobbed the poor girl, "why did you save me—why +did you recall me to a life of misery—why did you not let me die, +when the agony of death was already over?" +</p> + +<p> +"Dear Alice!" said Margaret, soothingly, "what tempted you to drown +yourself?" +</p> + +<p> +"I was driven to desperation by the neglect and cruelty of those whom +I love best on earth." +</p> + +<p> +"Do not reproach me, dear Alice," said Margaret, almost choking with +emotion. "It is not in my nature to desert those I love. My heart has +been with you in all your sorrows, but I dared not disobey my father." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Miss Moncton, it was not of you I spoke. I could not expect you +to countenance one whom the whole neighbourhood joined to condemn. If +others had only treated me half as well, I should not have been +reduced to such straits." +</p> + +<p> +"Alice, you must not stay here in this sad state. You will get your +death. Lean on my arm. I will take you home." +</p> + +<p> +"Home! I have no home. I dare not go home. <i>She</i> is there! and +she will taunt me with this, and drive me mad again." +</p> + +<p> +"Then come to the Hall, Alice; I will talk to you there, and no one +shall hear us but your own Margaret." +</p> + +<p> +"God bless you! Miss Moncton, for all your kindness. It would, indeed, +be a great relief to tell you all the grief which fills my heart. Yes, +I will go with you to-night. The morrow may take care of the things +which belong to it. Now, or never. There may be no to-morrow on earth +for me." +</p> + +<p> +"Cheer up, poor heart! There may be happiness in store for you yet," +said Margaret. +</p> + +<p> +"For me?" and Alice looked up with an incredulous smile; so sad, so +dreary, it was enough to make you weep, that wild glance passing over +her wan features. "Oh, never again for me." +</p> + +<p> +She suffered herself to be led between us to the Hall; Margaret +directing me by a path which led through the gardens to a private +entrance at the back of the house. Alice was completely exhausted by +her former violence. I had to put my arm round her slender waist, to +support her up the marble stair-case. I left her with Margaret, at her +chamber-door, and retired to my own apartment, to change my wet +clothes. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Moncton did not come down to tea. +</p> + +<p> +Sir Alexander was in the fidgets about her. "Where's Madge? What the +deuce is the matter with the girl? She went out with you, Geoffrey, as +fresh as a lark. I will hold you responsible for her non-appearance." +</p> + +<p> +I thought it best to relate what had happened. He looked very grave. +</p> + +<p> +"A sad business! A very sad business! I wish Madge would keep her +hands clear of that girl. I am sorry for her, too. But you know, +Geoffrey, we cannot set the opinion of the world entirely at defiance. +And what a man can do with impunity, a young lady must not." +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Moncton has acted with true Christian charity, sir. It is sad +that such examples are so rare." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't think I blame Madge, Geoffrey. She is a dear, good girl, a +little angel. But it is rather imprudent of her to bring the mistress +of Theophilus home to the house. What will Mrs. Grundy say?" +</p> + +<p> +"Margaret has no Mrs. Grundies," said I, rather indignantly. "She will +not admit such vulgar, common-place wretches into her society. To the +pure in heart all things are pure." +</p> + +<p> +"Well done! young champion of dames. You will not suffer Margaretta to +be blamed without taking her part, I see." +</p> + +<p> +"Particularly, sir, when I know and feel that she is in the right." +</p> + +<p> +"She and I must have a serious talk on this subject to-morrow, +however. In the meantime, Geoffrey, bring here the chess-board, and +let us get through a dull evening in the best way we can." +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +<a name="V">CHAPTER V.</a> +</p> + +<p class="head"> +A DISCOVERY. +</p> + + +<p> +The next morning I received from Margaretta, a circumstantial detail +of what had passed between Alice and her on the previous evening. +"After I undressed and got her to bed, she fell into a deep sleep, +which lasted until midnight. I was reading by the table, not feeling +at all inclined to rest. Hearing her moving, I went to her, and sat +down on the bed, and asked how she felt herself. +</p> + +<p> +"'Better in mind, Miss Moncton, but far from well. My head aches +badly, and I have a dull pain in my chest.' +</p> + +<p> +"'You have taken cold, Alice. I must send for the doctor.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Oh! no, no. He could do me no good; mine is a malady of the heart. +If my mind were at ease, I should be quite well. I do not wish to get +well. The sooner I die the better.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Alice, you must not talk so. It is very sinful.' +</p> + +<p> +"'You are right—I am a great sinner. I know it only too well. But I +cannot repent. All is dark here,' and she laid her hand upon her head. +'I cannot see my way through this thick darkness—this darkness which +can be felt. You know, Miss Moncton, what the Bible says "The light +of the wicked shall be put out in obscure darkness." My light of life +has been extinguished, and the night of eternal darkness has closed +over me.' +</p> + +<p> +"'We must pray to God, Alice, to enlighten this awful darkness.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Pray!—I cannot pray. I am too hard—too proud to pray. God has +forsaken and left me to myself. If I could discern one ray of +light—one faint glimmer only, I might cherish hope.' +</p> + +<p> +"There was something so truly melancholy, in this description of the +state of her mind, Geoffrey, that I could not listen to her with dry +eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"Alice, for her part, shed no tears, but regarded my emotions with a +look of mingled pity and surprise, while the latent insanity, under +which I am sure she is labouring, kindled a glow on her death-pale +face. Rising slowly in the bed, she grasped my arm— +</p> + +<p> +"'Why do you weep?' said she. 'Do you dare to think me guilty of that +nameless crime? Margaretta Moncton, you should know me better. Don't +you remember the ballad we once learned to repeat, when we were girls +together?— +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"'Not mine to scowl a guilty eye,</p> +<p class="i2">Or bear the brand of shame;</p> +<p>Oh, God! to brook the taunting look</p> +<p class="i2">Of Fillan's wedded dame.</p></div></div> + +<p> +"'But the lady bore the brand in spite of all her boasting. But I do +not. I am a wife—<i>His</i> lawful wedded wife, and my boy was no +child of shame, and he dare not deny it. And yet,' she continued, +falling back upon her pillow, and clutching the bed-clothes in her +convulsive grasp, '<i>he</i> spurned me from him—<i>me</i>, his +wife—the mother of his child. Yes, Miss Moncton, spurned me from his +presence, with hard words and bitter taunts. I could have borne the +loss of his love, for I have long ceased to respect him. But +this—this has maddened me.' +</p> + +<p> +"I was perfectly astonished at this unexpected disclosure. Seeing +doubt expressed in my face, she grew angry and vehement. +</p> + +<p> +"'It is true. Why do you doubt my word? I scorn to utter a falsehood. +When, Miss Moncton, did I ever during our long friendship deceive +you?' +</p> + +<p> +"'Never, Alice. But your story seemed improvable. Like you, I am in +the habit of speaking fearlessly my mind.' +</p> + +<p> +"She drew from her bosom a plain gold ring, suspended by a black +ribbon round her neck. +</p> + +<p> +"'With this ring we were married in Moncton Church. Our banns were +published there, in your father's hearing, but he took no heed of the +parties named. I have the certificate of my marriage, and Mr. Selden, +who married us under the promise of secresy, can prove the truth of +what I say. The marriage was private, because Theophilus was afraid of +incurring his father's anger.' +</p> + +<p> +"'And what has become of your child, Alice?' +</p> + +<p> +"'He is dead,' she said, mournfully. 'He caught cold, during a long +journey to London, which I undertook unknown to my grandmother, in the +hope of moving the hard heart of my cruel husband. It was of no +earthly use. I lost my child, and the desolate heart of the forsaken, +is now doubly desolate.' +</p> + +<p> +"The allusion to her baby seemed to soften the iron obstinacy of her +grief, and she gave way to a passionate burst of tears. This, I have +no doubt, tranquillized her mind. She grew calmer and more +collected—consented to take some refreshments, and then unfolded to +me at length, the tale of her wrongs. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Geoffrey! what a monster that Theophilus Moncton must be. I may +be wrong to say so, but I almost wish that poor Alice were not his +wife, and so will you, after you have heard all that I have to tell +you. Theophilus, it appears, from her statements, took a fancy to +Alice, when she was a mere child, and his passion strengthened for her +at every visit he subsequently paid to the Hall. After using every +inducement to overcome her integrity, rather than lose his victim, he +proposed a private marriage. This gratified the ambition of the +unfortunate girl, who knew, that in case of my father dying without +male issue, her lover would be the heir of Moncton. She was only too +glad to close with his offer, and they were married in the parish +church by the Rev. Mr. Selden, all the parties necessary to the +performance of the ceremony being sworn or bribed to secresy. +</p> + +<p> +"For a few months Theophilus lavished on his young bride great +apparent affection, and at this period his visits to the Hall were +very frequent. +</p> + +<p> +"Alice, who had always been treated like a sister by me, now grew pert +and familiar. This alteration in her former respectful manner greatly +displeased my father. 'These Morningtons,' he said, 'are unworthy of +the kindness we have bestowed upon them, and like all low people, when +raised above their station, they become insolent and familiar.' +</p> + +<p> +"Rumour had always ascribed young Moncton's visits to the Hall, to an +attachment he had formed for me. The gossips of the village changed +their tone, and his amour with Alice became the scandal of the day. +</p> + +<p> +"My father having ascertained that there was some truth in these +infamous reports, sent me to spend my first winter in London, with +Lady Gray, my mother's only sister, and told Dinah North that her +granddaughter for the future would be considered as a stranger by his +family. I wrote to Alice from London, telling her that I could not +believe the evil things said of her; and begged her, as she valued my +love and friendship, to lose no time in clearing up the aspersions +cast upon her character. +</p> + +<p> +"To my earnest and affectionate appeal, she returned no answer, and +all intercourse between us ceased. Three months after this, she became +a mother, and my father forbade me to mention her name. +</p> + +<p> +"It appears, that from this period she saw little of her husband; that +he, repenting bitterly of his sudden marriage, treated her with +coldness and neglect. +</p> + +<p> +"Dinah North, who was privy to her marriage, took a journey to London, +to try and force Mr. Moncton to acknowledge her granddaughter as his +son's wife; in case of his refusal threatening to expose conduct of +his which would not bear investigation. Dinah failed in her +mission—and my dear father, pitying the condition of the forlorn +girl, sought himself an interview with Mr. Moncton on her behalf, in +which he begged your uncle to use his influence with Theophilus, to +make her his wife. The young man had been sent abroad, and Mr. Moncton +received my father's proposition with indignation and contempt, and +threatened to disinherit Theophilus if he dared to take such a step +without his knowledge and consent. +</p> + +<p> +"In the meanwhile, the unfortunate Alice, withering beneath the +blighting influence of hope deferred, and unmerited neglect, lost her +health, her beauty, and by her own account, at times her reason. +Hearing that her husband had returned to England, she wrote to him a +letter full of forgiveness, and breathing the most devoted affection; +and told him of the birth of his son, whom she described, with all a +mother's doting love. +</p> + +<p> +"To this letter she received, after a long and torturing delay, the +following unfeeling answer. She gave me this precious document. +</p> + +<p> +"Read it, Geoffrey. It puts me into a fever of indignation; I cannot +read it a second time." +</p> + +<p> +I took the letter from her hand. +</p> + +<p> +How well I knew that scrupulously neat and feminine specimen of +caligraphy. It was an autograph worthy of Queen Elizabeth, so +regularly was each letter formed, the lines running in exact +parallels; no flutter of the heart causing the least deviation from +the exact rule. It ran as follows: +</p> +<div class="blockquote"> +<p> + "Why do you continue to trouble me with letters which are not + worth the postage? I hate to receive them, and from this time + forward will return them unopened. +</p> + +<p> + "Your best policy is to remain quiet, or I will disown the + connection between us, and free myself from your importunity by + consigning you to a mad-house. +</p> + +<p class="sig"> + "T—— M——." +</p></div> + +<p> +"Unfeeling scoundrel!" I exclaimed; "surely this <i>affectionate</i> +billet must have destroyed the last spark of affection in the breast +of the unhappy girl." +</p> + +<p> +"Women are strange creatures, Geoffrey, and often cling with most +pertinacity to those who care little for their regard, while they take +a perverse pleasure in slighting those who really love them—so it is +with Alice. The worse he treated her, the more vehemently she clung to +him. To make a final appeal to his callous heart she undertook the +journey to London alone, with her baby in her arms, and succeeded +under a feigned name in getting admittance to her husband. +</p> + +<p> +"You know the result. He spurned the wife and child from his presence. +The infant was taken sick on its homeward journey, and died shortly +after she reached her grandmother's cottage; and she, poor creature, +will soon follow it to the grave, for I am convinced that she is dying +of a broken heart." +</p> + +<p> +Margaret was quite overcome with this sad relation. Wiping the tears +from her eloquent black eyes, and looking me sadly in the face, she +said, with great earnestness: +</p> + +<p> +"And now, Geoffrey, what can we do to serve her?" +</p> + +<p> +"Inform Sir Alexander of these particulars. Let him obtain from Alice +the legal proofs of her marriage, and force this base Theophilus—this +disgrace to the name of a man, and of Moncton, to acknowledge her +publicly as his wife. In the meanwhile, I will write to her brother, +and inform him of this important discovery." +</p> + +<p> +"Her brother!" and Margaretta turned as pale as death; "what do you +know of Philip Mornington?" +</p> + +<p> +"He is my friend—my dearest, most valued friend." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank God he is alive!" +</p> + +<p> +"And likely to live," said I, leading her to a chair; for we had been +standing during our long conversation in the deep recess of the +library window. "Margaret, will you be offended if I ask you one +question?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not in the least, cousin." +</p> + +<p> +"And will you answer me with your usual candour?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why should you doubt it, Geoffrey?" said she, trembling with +agitation. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you love Philip Mornington?" +</p> + +<p> +"I do, Geoffrey—I have loved him from a child, but not in the way you +mean—not such love as a girl feels for her lover. I could not think +of him for one moment as my husband. No, it is a strange interest I +feel in his destiny: I feel as if he were a part of me, as if I had a +natural right to love him. He is so like my father, only milder and +less impetuous, that I have thought it possible that he might be his +natural son—and if so, my brother." +</p> + +<p> +What a relief was this declaration to my mind. I could not for a +moment doubt its sincerity, and I rejoiced that the dear +tender-hearted creature before me, was not likely to wreck her peace +in loving one whom she could not wed. Yet, that she did love some one +I felt certain; and though I dared not prosecute the inquiry, it was a +problem that I was very anxious to solve. +</p> + +<p> +I left my fair cousin, to write a long letter to George Harrison, in +which I duly informed him of all that had taken place since I left +London. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +<a name="VI">CHAPTER VI.</a> +</p> + +<p class="head"> +MY SECOND INTERVIEW WITH DINAH NORTH. +</p> + + +<p> +An hour had scarcely elapsed, when I received a message from Miss +Moncton, requesting my presence in the drawing-room, where I found her +engaged in an earnest conversation with Alice, who looked more like a +resuscitated corpse, than a living creature; so pale and death-like +were her beautiful features. +</p> + +<p> +She held out her hand, as I approached the sofa on which she was +reclining; and thanked me in low and earnest tones for saving her +life. There was an expression of pride, almost aristocratical, on her +finely cut lips, which seemed to contradict the gratitude she +expressed. +</p> + +<p> +"I was not in my right mind, Mr. Geoffrey; no one is, I have read and +been told, who makes an attempt upon his own life. I had suffered a +great calamity, and wanted moral courage to bear it. I trust God will +forgive me." +</p> + +<p> +I told her that I deeply sympathized with her unfortunate situation, +and would gladly do anything in my power to serve her. +</p> + +<p> +"That is more than Theophilus would do for you. If there is a person +whom he hates more than me, it is yourself. You can serve me very +materially. Miss Moncton tells me that you know my brother Philip +intimately." +</p> + +<p> +I nodded assent. +</p> + +<p> +"Write to him, and tell him from me, how sincerely I repent my past +conduct to him—that I am not quite the guilty creature he took me +for; though swayed by minds more daringly wicked to commit evil. Tell +him not to avenge my wrongs on Theophilus. There is one in heaven who +will be my Avenger—who never lets the thoroughly bad escape +unpunished; and tell him," and she drew a deep sigh—"that Alice +Moncton died blessing him." +</p> + +<p> +"Shall I go to London, and bring him down to see you?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, no!" she cried, in evident alarm, "he must not be seen in this +neighbourhood." +</p> + +<p> +"That would be bringing the dead to life," said I, pointedly. She gave +me a furtive look. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Alice, Philip told me that dreadful story. I do not wonder at +your repugnance to his coming here; and were it not for your share in +the business, I would commit that atrocious woman to take her trial at +the next assizes." +</p> + +<p> +"Horrible!" muttered Alice, hiding her face in the sofa pillows. "I +did not think that Philip would betray me, after all I did to save his +life." +</p> + +<p> +"Your secret is safe with me. I would to God, that other family +secrets known to you and Dinah were in my keeping." +</p> + +<p> +"I wish they were, Mr. Geoffrey, for I have too much upon my +conscience, overburdened as it is with the crimes of others. But I +cannot tell you many things important for you to know, for my lips are +sealed with an oath too terrible to be broken." +</p> + +<p> +"Then I must go to Dinah," I said, angrily, "and wrest the truth from +her." +</p> + +<p> +Alice burst into a wild laugh: "Rack and faggot would not do it, if +she were determined to hold her tongue; nay, she would suffer that +tongue to be torn out of her head, before she would confess a crime, +unless indeed she were goaded on by revenge. Listen, Mr. Geoffrey, to +the advice of a dying woman. Leave Dinah North to God and her own +conscience. Before many months are over, her hatred to Robert Moncton +and his son will tear the reluctant secret from her. Had my son +lived," another heavy sigh, "it would have been different. Her +ambition, like my love, has become dust and ashes." +</p> + +<p> +"Alice," said I, solemnly, "you have no right to withhold knowledge +which involves the happiness of others; even for your oath's sake." +</p> + +<p> +"It may be so, but that oath involves an eternal penalty which I dare +not bring upon my soul." +</p> + +<p> +"God can absolve all rash vows." +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, those who believe in Him, who love and trust Him. I believe, +simply because I fear. But love and trust—alas, the comfort, the +assurance which springs from faith, was never felt by me." +</p> + +<p> +"Dinah may die, and the secret may perish with her," cried I, growing +desperate to obtain information on a subject of such vital importance +to my friend—perhaps to me. +</p> + +<p> +"That is nothing to me," she replied, coldly. +</p> + +<p> +"Selfish, ungenerous woman!" +</p> + +<p> +She smiled scornfully. "The world, and your family especially, have +given me great encouragement to be liberal." +</p> + +<p> +"Is Philip your brother?" cried I, vehemently, determined to storm the +secret out of her. +</p> + +<p> +"What is that to you? Yet, perhaps, if the truth were told, you would +be the first to wish it buried in oblivion." +</p> + +<p> +There was a lurking fire in her eye as she said this, which startled +me. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you wish to prosecute the inquiry?" added she, with the bitter +smile which made her face, though beautiful, very repulsive. +</p> + +<p> +A glance of contempt was my sole answer. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, once for all, I will tell you, Mr. Geoffrey, lawyer though you +be, that your cross-questioning is useless. What I know about you and +yours shall remain unknown, as far as I am concerned; and shall go +down with me to the grave. The memory of my mother is too dear to me +for any words of yours to drag from me the trust she reposed in me. +You have had your answer. Go—I wish to be alone." +</p> + +<p> +In vain I argued, entreated, and even threatened. There was too much +of the leaven of Old Dinah in her granddaughter's character for her to +listen to reason. +</p> + +<p> +She became violent and obstinate, and put an end to this strange +conference by rising, and abruptly leaving the room. I looked after +her with feelings less tinctured with compassion than annoyance and +contempt. +</p> + +<p> +"Forgive her! Geoffrey," said Margaretta, who had listened in silent +astonishment to the conversation; "her reason is disordered; she does +not know what she says." +</p> + +<p> +"The madness of wickedness," I said, sharply. "She is as wide awake as +a fox. It may seem harsh to say so, but I feel little pity for her. +She is artful and selfish in the extreme, and deserves her fate. Just +review, for a moment, her past life." +</p> + +<p> +"It will not bear investigation, Geoffrey. Yet, with all these faults, +I loved her so fondly—love her still, and will never desert her while +a hope remains, that through my instrumentality her mind may be +diverted to the contemplation of better things." +</p> + +<p> +"She is not worthy of the trouble you take about her," said I, +shrugging my shoulders. "Have you informed your father of her marriage +with Theophilus?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, and he was astonished. Theophilus was the last person in the +world, he thought, who would commit himself in that way. Papa said, +that he would write to Robert Moncton, and make a statement of the +facts. I could almost pity him; this news will throw him into such a +transport of rage." +</p> + +<p> +"When Robert Moncton feels the most, he says little. He acts with +silent, deadly force. He seldom speaks. He will curse Theophilus in +his heart, but speak fair of him to his enemies. I am anxious to know +how all this will end." +</p> + +<p> +"My father wanted to see you in the library," said Margaretta. "Your +conversation with Alice put it entirely out of my head." +</p> + +<p> +I found Sir Alexander seated at a table, surrounded with papers. If +there was one thing my good old friend hated more than another, it was +writing letters. "Wise men speak—fools write their thoughts," was a +favourite saying of his. He flung the pen pettishly from him as I +entered the room. +</p> + +<p> +"Zounds! Geoffrey. I cannot defile paper with writing to that +scoundrel. I will see him myself. Who knows, but in the heat of his +displeasure, he may say something that will afford a clue to unravel +his treachery towards yourself. At all events, I am determined to make +the experiment." +</p> + +<p> +"He will make no sign. Robert Moncton never betrays himself." +</p> + +<p> +"To think that his clever Theophilus could make such a low marriage; +not but that the girl is far too good for him, and I think the +degradation is entirely on her side." +</p> + +<p> +"The pair are worthy of each other," said I. +</p> + +<p> +"You are unjust to Alice, Geoffrey. The girl was a beauty, and so +clever, till he spoilt her." +</p> + +<p> +"The tiger is a beautiful animal, and the fox is clever; but we hate +the one, and despise the other." +</p> + +<p> +The Baronet gave me a curious look. +</p> + +<p> +"How came you to form this character of the girl?" +</p> + +<p> +"Partly from observation; partly from some previous knowledge, +obtained from a reliable source, before I left London. But what of +this journey," said I, anxious to turn the conversation. "Do you +seriously contemplate again going up to town?" +</p> + +<p> +"It is already decided. I have ordered the carriage to be at the door +by eight to-morrow morning. I do not ask you to accompany me, +Geoffrey. I have business cut out for you during my absence. You must +start to-morrow for Derbyshire, and visit the parish in which your +grandfather resided for many years as curate, under the Rev. James +Brownson; and where your mother was born. I will supply the necessary +funds for the journey. +</p> + +<p> +"And the object of this visit?" cried I, eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +"To take lodgings in ——, or in the neighbourhood, and, under a +feigned name, prosecute inquiries respecting your mother's marriage. +There must still be many persons living to whom Ellen Rivers and her +father were well-known, who might give you much valuable information +respecting her elopement with your father, and what was said about it +by the gossips at the time. If you find the belief general that they +were married, ascertain the church in which the ceremony was said to +have been performed—the name of the clergyman who officiated, and the +witnesses who were present. All these particulars are of the greatest +importance for us to know. Take the best riding-horse in the stable, +and if your money fails you, draw upon me for more. You may adopt, for +the time being, my mother's family name, and: call yourself Mr. +Tremain, to which address, all letters from the Hall will be sent. +Should Robert Moncton drop any hints, which can in any way further the +object of your search, I will not fail to write you word. We will, if +you please, start at the same hour to-morrow; each on our different +mission; and may God grant us success, and a happy meeting. And, now, +you may go and prepare for your adventure." +</p> + +<p> +I had long wished to prosecute this inquiry. Yet, now the moment had +arrived, I felt loath to leave the Hall. +</p> + +<p> +The society and presence of Margaretta had become necessary to my +happiness. Yet inconsistently enough, I fancied myself desperately in +love with Catherine Lee: I never suspected that my passion for the one +was ideal—the first love of a boy; while that for the latter, was +real and tangible. +</p> + +<p> +How we suffer youth and imagination to deceive us in affairs of the +heart! We love a name, and invest the person who bears it with a +thousand perfections, which have no existence in reality. The object +of our idolatry is not a child of nature, but a creation of fancy, +fostered in solitude by ignorance and self-love. Marriages, which are +the offspring of first-love, are proverbially unhappy from this very +circumstance, which leads us to overrate, during the period of +courtship, the virtues of the beloved in the most extravagant manner; +and this species of adoration generally ends in disappointment—too +often in disgust. +</p> + +<p> +Boys and girls in their teens, are beings without much reflection. +Their knowledge of character, with regard to themselves and others, is +too limited and imperfect to enable them to make a judicious choice. +They love the first person who pleases the eye and charms the +fancy—for love is a matter of necessity at that age. Time divests +their idol of all its imaginary perfections, and they feel, too late, +that they have made a wrong choice. Though love may laugh at the cold +maxims of prudence and reason, yet it requires the full exercise of +both qualities to secure for any length of time domestic happiness. +</p> + +<p> +I can reason calmly now, on this exciting subject. But I reasoned not +calmly then. I was a creature of passion, and passionate impulses. The +woman I loved had no fault in my eyes. To have supposed her liable to +the common errors and follies of her sex would have been an act of +treason against the deity I worshipped. +</p> + +<p> +I retired to my chamber, and finished my letter to Harrison. +</p> + +<p> +The day wore slowly away, as it always does when you expect any +important event on the morrow. +</p> + +<p> +The evening was bright and beautiful as an evening in June could well +be. Margaretta had only been visible at dinner, her time having been +occupied between Alice and making preparations for her father's +journey. At tea, she looked languid and paler than usual, and when we +rose from the table I proposed a stroll in the Park. She consented +with a smile of pleasure, and we were soon wandering side by side +beneath our favourite trees. +</p> + +<p> +"You will feel very lonely during your father's absence, my little +cousin?" +</p> + +<p> +"Then you must exert all your powers of pleasing, Geoffrey, to supply +his place." +</p> + +<p> +"But I am going too: I leave Moncton at the same time, for an +indefinite period." +</p> + +<p> +"Worse and worse," and she tried to smile. It would not do. The tears +were in her beautiful eyes. That look of tender inquiry caused a +strange swelling at my heart. +</p> + +<p> +"You will not forget me, Margaret?" +</p> + +<p> +"Do you think it such an easy matter, that you deem it necessary to +make such a request." +</p> + +<p> +"I am but a poor relation, whom few persons would regard with other +feelings than those of indifference. This I know is not the case with +your excellent father and you. I shall ever regard both with gratitude +and veneration—and I feel certain, that should we never meet again, I +should always be remembered with affectionate kindness." +</p> + +<p> +"You know not how deservedly dear you are to us both. How much we love +you, Geoffrey—and I would fain hope that these sentiments are +reciprocal." +</p> + +<p> +Though this was said in perfect simplicity, the flushed cheek, and +down-cast eye, revealed the state of the speaker's heart, I felt—I +knew—she loved me. But, madman that I was, out of mere contradiction, +I considered myself bound by a romantic attachment, which had never +been declared by word or sign, to Catherine Lee. +</p> + +<p> +"You love me, dear Margaret," cried I, as I clasped her hand in mine, +and kissed it with more warmth than the disclosure I was about to +make, warranted. +</p> + +<p> +"God knows! how happy this blessed discovery would have made me, had +not my affections been pre-engaged." +</p> + +<p> +A deep blush mantled over her face—she trembled violently as she +gently drew her hand from mine—and answered with a modest dignity, +which was the offspring of purity and truth. +</p> + +<p> +"I will not deny, Geoffrey, that I love you. What you have said gives +me severe pain. We are not accountable for our affections: I am sorry +that I suffered my foolish heart to betray me. Yet, I must love you +still, cousin," she said, weeping. "Your very misfortunes endear you +to me. Forget this momentary weakness, and only think of me as a +loving friend and kinswoman." +</p> + +<p> +Mastering her feelings with a strong effort, she bade me good night, +and slowly walked back to the Hall. +</p> + +<p> +I was overwhelmed with confusion and remorse. I had wantonly sported +with the affections of one of the gentlest and noblest of human +beings, which a single hint, dropped as if accidentally, of a previous +passion might have prevented. +</p> + +<p> +Between Catherine and me, no words of love had been exchanged. She +might be the love of another—might be a wife, for anything I knew to +the contrary. I had neither seen nor heard anything regarding her for +some months, I had sacrificed the peace and happiness of the generous, +confiding Margaretta, to an idol, which might only exist in my own +heated imagination. +</p> + +<p> +Bitterly I cursed my folly when repentance came too late. +</p> + +<p> +I was too much vexed and annoyed with myself to return to the Hall, +and I rambled on until I found myself opposite to the fishing-house. +The river lay before me gleaming in the setting sun. Everything around +was calm, peaceful, and beautiful; but there was no rest, no peace in +my heart. +</p> + +<p> +As I approached the rustic bridge from which the wretched Alice had +attempted suicide, I perceived a human figure seated on a stone on the +bank of the river, in a crouching, listless attitude. This excited my +curiosity, and catching at anything that might divert my thoughts from +the unpleasant train in which they had been running for the last hour, +I struck off the path I had been pursuing, which led directly to the +public road, and soon reached the object in question. +</p> + +<p> +Wrapped in an old grey mantle, with a red silk handkerchief tied over +her head, her chin resting between her long bony hands, and her eyes +shut, or bent intently on the ground, I recognized, with a shudder of +aversion and disgust, the remarkable face of Dinah North. +</p> + +<p> +Her grizzled locks had partly escaped from their bandage, and fell in +thin, straggling lines over her low, wrinkled forehead. The fire of +her deep-seated dark eyes was hidden beneath their drooping lids, and +she was muttering to herself some strange unintelligible gibberish. +She did not notice me until I purposely placed myself between her and +the river which rolled silently and swiftly at her feet. +</p> + +<p> +Without manifesting the least surprise at the unceremonious manner in +which I had disturbed her reverie, she slowly raised her witch-like +countenance, and for a few seconds surveyed me with a sullen stare. As +if satisfied with my identity, she accosted me with the same sarcastic +writhing of the upper lip, which on our first interview had given me +the key to her character. +</p> + +<p> +"You, too, are a Moncton, and like the rest of that accursed race, are +fair and false. Your dark eyes all fire—your heart as cold as ice. +Proud as Lucifer—inexorable as the grave; woe to those who put any +trust in a Moncton! they are certain of disappointment—sure to be +betrayed. Pass by, young sir, I have no doubt that you are like the +rest of your kin. I wish them no good, but evil, so you had better not +cross my path." +</p> + +<p> +"Your hatred, Dinah, is more to be coveted than your friendship. To +incur the first, augurs some good in the person thus honoured; to +possess the last, would render us worthy of your curse." +</p> + +<p> +"Ha, ha!" returned the grim fiend, laughing ironically, "your +knowledge of the world has given you a bitter spirit. I wish you joy +of the acquisition. Time will increase its acrimony. But I like your +bluntness of speech, and prophesy from it that you are born to +overcome the malignity of your enemies." +</p> + +<p> +"And you," and I fixed my eyes steadily on her hideous countenance, +"for what end were you born?" +</p> + +<p> +"To be the curse of others," she answered, with a grim smile, which +displayed those glittering white teeth within her faded, fleshless +lips, which looked like a row of pearls in a Death's head; and there +flashed from her swart eye a red light which made the blood curdle in +my veins, as she continued in the same taunting strain— +</p> + +<p> +"I have been of use, too, in my day and generation. I have won many +souls, but not for heaven. I have served my master well, and shall +doubtless receive my reward." +</p> + +<p> +"This is madness, Dinah North, but without excuse. It is the madness +of guilt." +</p> + +<p> +"It is a quality I possess in common with my kind. The world is made +up of madmen and fools. It is better to belong to the first than to +the latter class—to rule, than to be ruled. Between those two parties +the whole earth is divided. Knowledge is power, whether it be the +knowledge of evil or of good. I heard that sentence when a girl; it +never left my mind, and I have acted upon it through life." +</p> + +<p> +"It must have been upon the knowledge of evil—as your deeds can too +well testify." +</p> + +<p> +"You have guessed right, young sir. By it, the devil lost heaven, but +he gained hell. By it tyrants rule, and mean men become rich—virtue +is overcome, and vice triumphs." +</p> + +<p> +"And what have you gained by it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Much: it has given me an influence in the world, which without it, +never could have belonged to one of my degree. By it, I have swayed +the destinies of those whom fortune had apparently placed beyond my +reach. It has given me, Geoffrey Moncton, power over thee and thine, +and at this very moment, the key of your future fortune is in my +keeping." +</p> + +<p> +"And your life in mine, vain boaster! The hour is at hand which shall +make even a hardened sinner like you acknowledge that there is a +righteous God who judges in the earth. I ask you not for the secret +which you possess, and which, after all, may be a falsehood, in unison +with the deceit and treachery that has marked your whole life—a lie, +invented to extort money, or to gratify the spite of your malignant +heart. The power which punishes the guilty and watches over the +innocent, will vindicate the good name of which a wretch like you +would fain deprive me." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't be too sure of <i>celestial</i> aid," said she, with a sneer, +"but, 'make to yourself friends of the mammon of unrighteousness,' as +the wisest policy. Flatter from your Uncle Robert the ill-gotten +wealth that his dastardly son, Theophilus, shall never possess." +</p> + +<p> +"This advice comes well from the sordid woman who sold her innocent +grandchild to this same Theophilus, in the hope that she might enjoy +the rank and fortune which belonged to the good and noble, and by this +unholy act sacrificed the peace—perhaps the eternal happiness of that +most wretched creature." +</p> + +<p> +The countenance of the old woman grew dark—dark as night. She fixed +upon me a wild, inquiring gaze. +</p> + +<p> +"You speak of Alice. In the name of God, tell me what has become of +her!" +</p> + +<p> +"Upon one condition," said I, laying my hand upon her shoulder and +whispering the words into her ear. "Tell me what has become of Philip +Mornington." +</p> + +<p> +"Ha!" said the old woman, trying to shake off my grasp; "what do you +know of him?" +</p> + +<p> +"Enough to hang you—something that the grave in the dark shrubbery +can reveal." +</p> + +<p> +"Has she told you <i>that</i>? The fool! the idiot! in so doing she +betrayed herself." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>She</i> told me nothing. The eye that witnessed the deed confided +to me that secret. The earth will not conceal the stain of blood. Did +you never hear that fact before? Is not my secret as good as yours, +Dinah North? Are you willing to make an exchange?" +</p> + +<p> +The old woman crouched herself together, and buried her face between +her knees. Her hands opened and shut with a convulsive motion, as if +they retained something in their grasp with which she was unwilling to +part. At length, raising her head, she said in a decided manner: +</p> + +<p> +"The law has lost in you a <i>worthy</i> member; but I accept the +terms. Come to me to-morrow at nine o'clock." +</p> + +<p> +"To-night, or never!" +</p> + +<p> +"Don't try to force or bully me into compliance, young man. At my own +time, and in my own way alone, will I gratify your curiosity." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, be it so—to-morrow. I will meet you at the Lodge at nine +to-morrow." +</p> + +<p> +She rose from her seat; regarded me with the same withering glance and +cutting smile, and gliding past me, vanished among the trees. +</p> + +<p> +Exulting in my success, I exclaimed—"Thank God I shall know all +to-morrow!" +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +<a name="VII">CHAPTER VII.</a> +</p> + +<p class="head"> +AN EXPLANATION—DEPARTURE—DISAPPOINTMENT. +</p> + + +<p> +I was so elated with the unexpected result of my meeting with Dinah +North, that it was not until I missed the fairy figure of my sweet +cousin at the supper-table, that my mind reverted to the conversation +that had passed between us in the Park. +</p> + +<p> +"Where is Miss Moncton?" I asked of Sir Alexander, in a tone and +manner which would have betrayed the agitation I felt, to a stranger. +</p> + +<p> +"She is not well, Geoffrey, has a bad headache, or is nervous, I +forget which, and begged to be excused joining us to-night. These +little female complaints are never dangerous, so don't look alarmed. +My girl is no philosopher, and this double parting affects her +spirits. She will be all right again when you come back." +</p> + +<p> +I sighed involuntarily. The provoking old man burst into a hearty +laugh. +</p> + +<p> +"I am likely to have a dull companion to-night, Geoffrey. Hang it! +boy, don't look so dismal. Do you think that you are the only man who +ever was in love? I was a young man once. Ay, and a fine young man +too, or the world and the ladies told great stories, but I never could +enact the part of a sentimental lover. Fill your glass and drive away +care. Success to your journey. Our journeys, I might have said—and a +happy meeting with little Madge." +</p> + +<p> +I longed to tell Sir Alexander the truth, and repeat to him my +conversation with his daughter. But I could not bear to mortify his +pride, for I could not fail to perceive that he contemplated a union +between us with pleasure, and was doing his best to encourage me to +make a declaration of my attachment to Margaret. +</p> + +<p> +I was placed in a most unfortunate predicament, and in order to drown +my own miserable feelings, I drank more wine than usual, and gaining +an artificial flow of spirits, amused my generous patron with a number +of facetious stories and anecdotes, until the night was far advanced, +and we both retired to rest. +</p> + +<p> +My brain was too much heated with the wine I had drank to sleep, and +after making several ineffectual efforts, I rose from my +bed—relighted my candle, and dressing myself, sat down to my desk, +and wrote a long letter to Margaretta, in which I informed her of my +first meeting with Catherine Lee; the interest which her beauty had +created in my heart—the romantic attachment I had formed for her, and +which, hopeless as it was, I could not wholly overcome. I assured +Margaretta, that I felt for herself, the greatest affection and +esteem—that but for the remembrance of the first passion, the idea +that she loved me would have made me the happiest of men. That if she +would accept the heart I had to offer, divided as I felt it was with +another, and my legitimacy could be established, my whole life should +be devoted to her alone. +</p> + +<p> +I ended this long candid confession, by relating verbatim my interview +with Dinah North, and begged, if possible, that I might exchange a few +words with her before leaving the Hall. +</p> + +<p> +I felt greatly relieved by thus unburdening my mind. I had told the +honest truth, without fear and without disguise; and I knew that she, +who was the mirror of truth, would value my sincerity as it deserved. +</p> + +<p> +The sun was scarcely up when I dispatched my letter, and before the +early breakfast, that had been ordered previous to our departure, was +ready, I received the following answer— +</p> +<div class="blockquote"> +<p class="noindent"> + "My dear Cousin Geoffrey, +</p> + +<p> + "Your invaluable letter has greatly raised you in my esteem; I + cannot sufficiently admire the conscientious scruples which + dictated it—and though we cannot meet as lovers, after the candid + revelation you have confided to me, we may still remain, what all + near relatives ought to be, firm and faithful friends. +</p> + +<p> + "To you I can attach no blame whatever, and I feel proud that my + affections, though fixed upon an object beyond their reach, were + bestowed upon one so every way worthy of them. +</p> + +<p> + "Let us therefore forget our private sorrows, and drown unavailing + regrets in doing all we can to serve Philip and his sister. + Farewell—with sincere prayers for the successful issue of your + journey, believe me, now and ever, your faithful and loving + friend, +</p> + +<p class="sig"> + "<span class="sc">Margaretta</span>." +</p></div> + +<p> +"What a noble creature she is," said I, as I pressed the letter to my +lips; "I am indeed unworthy of such a treasure." +</p> + +<p> +Yet I felt happy at that moment; happy that she knew all—that I had +not deceived her, but had performed an act of painful duty, though by +so doing I had perhaps destroyed the brilliancy of my future prospects +in life. +</p> + +<p> +With mingled feelings of gratitude and pleasure I met my dear cousin +at the breakfast-table. Her countenance, although paler than usual, +wore a tranquil and even cheerful expression. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Madge, my darling," cried the Baronet, kissing her pale cheek, +"you are determined to see the last of us: is your early rising in +honour of Geoffrey or me?" +</p> + +<p> +"Of both," she said, with her sweetest smile. "I never employ a proxy +to bid farewell to my friends." +</p> + +<p> +Several efforts were made at conversation during the meal, which +proved eminently unsuccessful. The hour of parting came. The Baronet +was safely stowed away into his carriage; the noble horses plunged +forward, and the glittering equipage was soon lost among the trees. I +lingered a moment behind. +</p> + +<p> +"Dear Margaret, we part friends." +</p> + +<p> +"The best of friends." +</p> + +<p> +"God bless you! dearest and noblest of women," said I, faintly; for my +lips quivered with emotion; I could scarcely articulate a word; "you +have removed a load of anxiety from my heart. To have lost your +friendship would have been a severer trial to me, than the loss of +name or fortune." +</p> + +<p> +"I believe you, Geoffrey. But never allude again to this painful +subject, if you value my health and peace. We understand each other. +If God wills it so, we may both be happy, though the attainment of it +may not exactly coincide with our present wishes. Adieu! dear cousin. +You have my heart-felt prayers for your success." +</p> + +<p> +She raised her tearful eyes to mine. The next moment she was in my +arms, pressed closely against my breast—a stifled sob—one kiss—one +long lingering embrace—a heavy melancholy deep-drawn sigh, and she +was gone. +</p> + +<p> +I mounted my horse and rode quickly forward; my thoughts so occupied +with Margaretta and that sad parting, that I nearly forgot the +promised interview with Dinah North, until my proximity to the lodge +brought it vividly to my remembrance. +</p> + +<p> +Fastening my horse to the rustic railing which fronted the cottage, I +crossed the pretty little flower-garden, and knocked rather +impatiently at the door. My summons, though given in loud and +authoritative tones, remained unanswered. +</p> + +<p> +Again and again I applied my hand to the rusty iron knocker; it awoke +no response from the tenant of the house. "She must be dead or out," +said I, losing all patience; "I will stay here no longer," and lifting +the latch, I very unceremoniously entered the cottage. All was silent +within. The embers on the hearth were dead, and the culinary vessels +were scattered over the floor. The white muslin curtains which shaded +the rose-bound windows were undrawn. The door which led into the +bedroom was open, the bed made and the room untenanted. It was evident +that the old woman was not there. I called aloud: +</p> + +<p> +"Dinah, Dinah North! Is any one within?" +</p> + +<p> +No answer. +</p> + +<p> +I proceeded to explore the rest of the dwelling. In the front room or +parlour, the contents of a small chest of drawers had been emptied out +on the floor, and some few articles of little value were strewn about. +It was an evident fact, that the bird had flown; and all my +high-raised expectations resolved themselves into air. +</p> + +<p> +Whilst cursing the crafty old woman bitterly in my heart, my eye +glanced upon a slip of paper lying upon a side table. I hastily +snatched it up and read the following words traced in a bold hand: +</p> +<div class="blockquote"> +<p> + "Geoffrey Moncton, when next we meet, your secret and mine will be + of equal value. +</p> + +<p class="sig"> + "<span class="sc">Dinah North.</span>" +</p></div> + +<p> +I was bitterly disappointed, and crushing the paper in my hand, I +flung it as far from me as I could. +</p> + +<p> +"Curse the old fiend! We shall yet meet. I will trace her to the +utmost bounds of earth to bring her to justice." +</p> + +<p> +I left the house in a terrible ill-humour, and remounting my horse, +pursued my journey, to Derbyshire. +</p> + +<p> +It was late on the evening of the second day, when I reached the +little village over which my grandfather Rivers had exercised the +pastoral office for nearly fifty years. The good man had been gathered +to his fathers a few months before I was born. It was not without +feeling a considerable degree of interest that I rode past the humble +church, surrounded by its lofty screen of elms, and glanced at the +greensward beneath whose daisy-sprinkled carpet, the +</p> + +<p class="ctr"> + "Rude forefathers of the village slept." +</p> + +<p> +The rain had fallen softly but perseveringly the whole day, and I was +wet, hungry and tired. I hailed therefore the neat little inn, with +its gay sign-board, white-washed walls and green window-blinds, as the +most welcome and picturesque object which had met my sight for the +last three hours. +</p> + +<p> +"Stay all night, sir?" said the brisk lad, from whose helmet-like +leathern cap the water trickled in the most obtrusively impertinent +manner over his rosy, freckled face, as he ran forward to hold my +horse. "Good accommodation for man and beast—capital beds, sir." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes," I replied, somewhat impatiently, as I threw him the reins +and entered the brick passage of the inn. "Where is the master of the +house?" +</p> + +<p> +"No master, sir," returned the officious lad, following me. "The +master be a missus, sir. Here she come." +</p> + +<p> +"What's your pleasure?" said a very pretty woman, about thirty years +of age, advancing from an inner room. She was dressed in widow's +weeds, which became her very fair face amazingly, and led by the hand +a rosy, curly-headed urchin, whose claims to general admiration were +by no means contemptible. The mother and her lovely boy would have +made a charming picture; and I forgot, while contemplating the +originals, that I was wet and hungry. +</p> + +<p> +With the quickness of her sex, Mrs. Archer perceived that she had made +a favourable impression on her new guest. And putting back the +luxuriant curls from the white brow of her boy, she remarked, with a +sigh: +</p> + +<p> +"He's young to be an orphan—poor child!" +</p> + +<p> +"He is, indeed," I replied, kissing the little fellow, as I spoke; +"and his mother far too young and pretty to remain long a widow." +</p> + +<p> +"La! sir; you don't say so," said Mrs. Archer, smiling and blushing +most becomingly. "And you standing all this while in the drafty, cold +passage in your wet clothes. You can have a private room and a fire, +sir." +</p> + +<p> +"And a good supper, I hope," said I, laughing. "I have ridden fifty +miles to-day, and I feel desperately hungry." +</p> + +<p> +"You shall have the best the house affords. Pray, walk this way." +</p> + +<p> +I followed my conductress into a neat little room. A fat country girl +was on her knees before the grate striving to kindle the fire; but the +wood was wet, and in spite of the girl's exertions, who was supplying +with her mouth the want of a pair of bellows, the fire refused to +burn. +</p> + +<p> +"It's of no manner of use: no it isn't," said the girl. "I may blow +till I bust, an' it won't kindle." +</p> + +<p> +"Try again, Betty," said her mistress, encouragingly. "You were always +a first-rate hand at raising the fire." +</p> + +<p> +"But the wood warn't wet," returned the fat girl, discontentedly. "I +can't make it burn when it won't." +</p> + +<p> +And getting up from her fat knees she retreated, scowling alternately +at me and the refractory fire. +</p> + +<p> +The room looked cold and comfortless. The heavy rain dashed drearily +against the narrow window-panes; and I inquired if I could not dry my +wet clothes and eat my supper by the kitchen-fire. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! yes. If such a gentleman as you will condescend to enter my +humble kitchen," was the reply. +</p> + +<p> +I did condescend—heaven only knows how gladly; and soon found myself +comfortably seated before an excellent fire, in company with a stout, +red-faced, jolly old farmer, and a thin, weazel-faced, undersized +individual, dressed in a threadbare suit of pepper and salt, who kept +his hat on, and wore it on one side with a knowing swagger, talked +big, and gave himself a thousand consequential airs. +</p> + +<p> +This person I discovered to be the barber, and great politician of the +village; who talked continually of King George and the royal family; +of the king's ministers; the war in Rooshia, the burning of Moscow, +and the destruction of that monster Bonyparty. +</p> + +<p> +The farmer, who was no scholar, and looked upon him of the strop and +razor as a perfect oracle, was treating him to a pot of ale, for the +sake of the news; the barber paying twopence a week for the sight of a +second-hand newspaper. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Archer went softly up to the maker of perukes, and whispered +something in his ear. He answered with a knowing nod, and without +moving, stared me full in the face. +</p> + +<p> +"Not an inch will I budge, Mrs. Archer. One man's money is as good as +another man's money. No offence to the gemman, 'A man's a man for a' +that.' That's what I call real independence, neighbour Bullock." +</p> + +<p> +And his long, lean fingers descended upon the fat knee of the farmer +with a whack that rang through the kitchen. +</p> + +<p> +"Deuce take you! Sheldrake. I wish you'd just show it in some other +way," said the farmer, rubbing his knee. "Why, man, your fingers are +as long and as lean as a crow's claws, and as hard as your own block, +and sting like whip-cord. One would think that you had dabbled long +enough in oil and pomatum, and such like messes, to make them as white +as a lady's hand, and as soft as your own head." +</p> + +<p> +"They have been made tough by handling such hard numskulls as yours, +neighbour Bullock. That chin of yours, with its three days' growth of +bristles, would be a fortune to a bricklayer, whilst it spoils my best +razors, and never puts a penny into the pocket of the poor operator." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Operator!</i>" repeated the farmer, with a broad, quizzical grin, +"is that your new-fangled name for a shaver? It's a pity you didn't +put it on the board with the farrago of nonsense, by which you hope to +attract the attention of all the fool bodies in the town." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't speak disrespectfully of my sign, sir," quoth the little +barber, waxing wroth. "My sign is an excellent sign—the admiration of +the whole village; and let me tell you that it is not in <i>spite</i> +and <i>envy</i> to put it down, let spite and envy try as hard as they +can. The genius which suggested that sign is not destined to go +unrewarded." +</p> + +<p> +"Ha! ha! ha,!" roared the chewer of bacon. +</p> + +<p> +"Mrs. Archer," said the offended shaver, turning to the pretty widow +with an air of wounded dignity truly comic, "did you ever before hear +a Bullock laugh like a hog?" +</p> + +<p> +"Dang it! man, such conceit would make a cow caper a horn-pipe, or a +Shelled Drake crow like a cock." +</p> + +<p> +"I beg you, <i>Mister</i> Bullock, to take no liberties with my name, +especially in the presence of the fair sex," bowing gracefully to Mrs. +Archer, who was leaning upon the back of my chair, half suffocated +with suppressed laughter. +</p> + +<p> +"What are you quarrelling about, Sheldrake?" said the good-natured +widow. "Bullock, can't you let his sign alone? It is something new, I +hear—something in praise of the ladies." +</p> + +<p> +"I was always devoted to the ladies," said the barber, "having +expended the best years of my life in their service." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, well, if so be that you call that powetry over your door a +compliment to the women-folk, I'll be shot!" said the farmer. "Now, +sir," turning to me, "you are a stranger, and therefore unprejudiced; +you shall be judge. Come, barber, repeat your verses, and hear what +the gemman says of them." +</p> + +<p> +"With all my heart;" and flinging his shoulders back and stretching +forth his right arm, the barber repeated, in a loud theatrical tone— +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"I, William, Sheldrake, shave for a penny,</p> +<p>Ladies and gentlemen—there can't come too many—</p> +<p>With heads and beards—I meant to say</p> +<p>Those who've got none may keep away."</p></div></div> + +<p> +A hearty burst of laughter from us all greatly disconcerted the +barber, who looked as ruefully at us as a stuck pig. +</p> + +<p> +"You hairy monster!" quoth Mrs. Archer, "what do you mean by shaving +the ladies? You deserve to be ducked to death in a tub of dirty suds. +Beards, forsooth!" and she patted, with evident complacency, her +round, white, dimpled chin; "who ever saw a woman with a beard? Did +you take us all for Lapland witches? I wonder what our pretty young +lady up at Elm Grove would say to your absurd verses." +</p> + +<p> +"That is no secret to me, Mrs. Archer. I do know what she thinks of +it. Miss Lee is a young lady of taste, and knows how to appreciate +fine poetry, which is more than some folks, not a hundred miles off, +does. She rode past my shop yesterday on horseback, and I saw her +point to my sign with her riding-whip, and heard her say to the London +chap that is allers with her, 'Is not that <i>capital</i>?' +</p> + +<p> +"And he says, '<i>Capital!</i> If that does not draw custom to the +shop, nothing will.' So now, neighbour Bullock, you may just leave off +sneering at my sign." +</p> + +<p> +"I did not think Miss Lee had been such a fool," said Bullock, "but +there's no accounting for taste." +</p> + +<p> +"Who is the gentleman that is staying at the Elms just now?" asked +Mrs. Archer. "Do you know his name?" +</p> + +<p> +"I've heard," said Suds, "but really I quite forget. It either begins +with an M or an N." +</p> + +<p> +"That's a wide landmark to sail by, Sheldrake. You might as well have +added a P or a Q." +</p> + +<p> +"Stop," said the barber, "I can give you a clue to it. Do you +remember, Bullock, the name of the fine sporting gemman who ran off +with Parson Rivers's daughter? I was a boy then, serving my time with +Sam Strap." +</p> + +<p> +I started from the contemplation of the fine well-grilled beef-steak +which Mrs. Archer was dishing for my especial benefit. +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said Sheldrake, "he is either a son or a nefy of his, and has +the same name." +</p> + +<p> +"The deuce he is! That was Moncton, if I mistake not. Yes, yes, +Moncton was the name. I well remember it, for it was the means of our +losing our good old pastor." +</p> + +<p> +"How was that?" said I, trying to look indifferent. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, sir, do you see. Mr. Rivers had been many years in the parish. +He married my father and mother, and baptized me, when a babby. He did +more than that. He married me to my old woman, when I was a man—but +that was the worse job he ever done. Well, sir, as I was telling you. +He was a good man and a Christian; but he had one little weakness. We +have all our faults, sir. He loved his pretty daughter too well: wise +men will sometimes play the fool, and 'tis a bad thing to make too +much of woman-kind. Like servants they grow saucy upon it. They always +gets the advantage, any how; and our old parson did pet and spoil Miss +Ellen to her heart's content. There was some excuse too for him, for +he was an old man and a widower. He had lost his wife and a large +family. Parsons always have large families. My wife do say, that 'tis +because they have nothing else to do. But I'se very sure, that I +should find preaching and sermon-work hard enough." +</p> + +<p> +"Lord! man, what a roundabout way you have of telling a story," cried +Suds, who was impatient to hear his own voice again. "Get on a little +quicker. Don't you see, the gemman's steak is a-getting cold—and he +can't eat and listen to you at the same time, an art I learnt long +ago." +</p> + +<p> +"Mind your own business, Sheldrake," said the farmer: "I never trouble +my head with the nonsense which is always frothing out of your mouth." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, sir," turning again to me, "as I was saying; his wife and +family had all died in the consumption, which made him so afraid of +losing Miss Ellen, that he denied her nothing; and truly, she was as +pretty a piece of God's workmanship as ever you saw—and very +sweet-tempered and gentle, which beauties seldom are. I had the +misfortune to marry a pretty woman, and I knows it to my cost. But I +need not trouble you with my missus. It's bad enough to be troubled +with her myself. So, sir, as I was telling you, there came a mighty +fine gentleman down from London, to stay at the Elm Grove, with my old +landlord Squire Lee, who's dead and gone. This Squire Lee was the son +of old-Squire Lee." +</p> + +<p> +"I dare say, Bullock, the gemman does not care a farthing whose son he +was," cried the impatient barber. "You are so fond of genealogies, +that it's a pity you don't begin with the last squire, and end with, +'which was the son of Seth, which was the son of Adam,' &c." +</p> + +<p> +These interruptions were very annoying, as I was on the tenter-hooks +to get out of the mountain of flesh, the head and tail of the story he +found such difficulty in bringing forth. +</p> + +<p> +"Pray go on with your story, friend," said I, very demurely, for fear +of hurrying him into becoming more discursive, "I feel quite +interested." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, sir, this young man came to stay at the Grove, during the +shooting-season; and he sees Miss Ellen at church, and falls +desperately in love with her. This was all very natural. I was a +youngster myself once, and a smart active chap, although I be clumsy +enough now, and I remember feeling rather queerish, whenever I cast a +sheep's eye into the parson's pew." +</p> + +<p> +"But the young lady and her lover?" for I perceived that he was +trotting off at full gallop in another direction, "how did they come +on?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, ay! As young folk generally do in such cases. From exchanging +looks, they came to exchanging letters and then words. Stolen meetings +and presents of hearts cut out of turnips, with a skewer put through +them, to show the desperation of the case. That was the way at least +that I went a courting my Martha, and it took amazingly." +</p> + +<p> +"Hang you, and your Martha!" thought I, as I turned helplessly to the +beef-steak, but I felt too much excited to do it the least justice. +After deliberately knocking the ashes from his pipe, and taking a long +draught of ale from the pewter-pot beside him, the old farmer went on +of his own accord. +</p> + +<p> +"I s'pose the young man told Miss Ellen that he could not live without +her. We all tell 'em so, but we never dies a bit the sooner, for all +that; and the pretty Miss told him to speak to her father, and he did +speak, and to his surprise, old parson did not like it at all, and did +not give him a very civil answer; and turned the young chap out of the +house. He said that he did not approve of sporting characters for +sons-in-law, and Miss Ellen should never get his consent to marry him. +But as I told you before, sir, the women-folk will have their own way, +especially when there is a sweet-heart or a new bonnet in the case; +and the young lady gave him her own consent, and they took French +leave and went off without saying a word to nobody. Next morning old +parson was running about the village, asking everybody if they had +seen his child, the tears running over his thin face, and he raving +like a man out of his head." +</p> + +<p> +"And were the young people ever married?" and in spite of myself I +felt the colour flush my face to crimson. +</p> + +<p> +"I never heard to the contrary. But it was not right to vex the poor +old man: he took it so to heart, that it quite broke his spirit, and +he lived but a very few months after she left him. His death was a +great loss to the neighbourhood. We never had a parson that could hold +a candle to him since. He was a father to the poor, and it was a +thousand pities to see the good old man pining and drooping from day +to day, and fretting himself after the spoilt gal who forsook him in +his old age." +</p> + +<p> +"You are too hard upon the young lady," said Suds: "it was but human +nature after all, and small blame in her to prefer a young husband to +an old snuffy superannuated parson." +</p> + +<p> +"Did she ever return to ——?" +</p> + +<p> +"She came to see her father in his dying illness, but too late to +receive his forgiveness, for he died while her step was on the stairs. +His last words—'Thank God, Ellen is come, I shall see her before I +die.' But he did not, for he expired directly the words were out of +his mouth. She and her husband followed the old man to his grave, and +barring her grief, I never saw a handsomer couple." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you know," said I, hesitatingly, "the church in which they were +married?" +</p> + +<p> +"I never heard, sir, not feeling curious to ask, as it did not concern +me, but Mrs. Hepburn up at the Grove knows: she was Miss Lee then, and +she and old parson's daughter went to school together, and were fast +friends." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you," I replied carelessly, drawing my chair from the table, +"you have satisfied my curiosity." +</p> + +<p> +Though outwardly calm my heart was beating violently. Could it be true +that I was in the immediate vicinity of Catherine and her aunt, and +that the latter might be acquainted with the facts so important for me +to procure? +</p> + +<p> +The hopes and fears which this conversation had produced had the +effect of destroying my appetite. It was in vain that the pretty widow +tempted me with a number of delicacies in the shape of sweet home-made +bread, delicious fresh butter, and humming ale, the power of mental +excitement overpowered the mere gratification of the senses. +</p> + +<p> +Before I retired for the night, I observed my loquacious companions +doing ample justice to the savoury supper, from which I had risen with +indifference. +</p> + +<p> +I sought the solitude of my chamber, undressed, and flung myself into +bed. To sleep was out of the question. Catherine Lee, Margaretta +Moncton and my dear mother floated in a continual whirl through my +heated brain. My mind was a perfect chaos of confused images and +thoughts; nor could I reflect calmly on one subject for two minutes +together. My head ached, my heart beat tumultuously, and in order to +allay this feverish mental irritation, I took a large dose of +laudanum, which produced the desired effect of lulling me into +profound forgetfulness. +</p> + +<p> +The day was far advanced when I shook off this heavy unwholesome +slumber, but on endeavouring to rise, I felt so stupid and giddy, that +I was fain to take a cup of coffee in bed. A table-spoonful of +lime-juice administered by the white hand of Mrs. Archer, counteracted +the unpleasant effects of the opiate. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +<a name="VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</a> +</p> + +<p class="head"> +ELM GROVE. +</p> + + +<p> +On calmly reviewing the conversation of the past night, I determined +to walk over to Elm Grove, and confide my situation to Mrs. Hepburn, +who, as a friend of my mother's, might feel more interested in me, +than she had done in Mr. Robert Moncton's poor dependent clerk. +</p> + +<p> +I was so well pleased with this plan that I immediately put it into +execution, and gave myself no time to alter my resolution, until I +found myself waiting the appearance of the lady in an elegant +drawing-room, which commanded the most beautiful prospect of hill and +dale, in that most beautiful and romantic of English counties. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Hepburn was past the meridian of life. Her countenance was by no +means handsome, but the expression was gentle and agreeable, and her +whole appearance lady-like and prepossessing. She had mingled a great +deal in the world, which had given her such a perfect control over her +features, that little could be read of the inward emotions of the +mind, from the calm and almost immovable placidity of her face. +</p> + +<p> +A slight look of surprise at the sight of a visitor so unexpected, and +in all probability equally unwelcome, made me feel most keenly the +awkwardness of the situation in which I was placed. The cold and +courteous manner in which she asked to what cause she was indebted for +the pleasure of a visit from Mr. Geoffrey Moncton, did not tend to +diminish my confusion. I suffered my agitation so completely to master +me, that for a few seconds I could find no words wherewith to frame +the most common-place answer. +</p> + +<p> +Observing my distress, she begged me to take a seat, and placing +herself on the opposite side of the table, she continued to regard me +with the most provoking <i>nonchalance</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Making a desperate effort to break the oppressive silence, I contrived +at last to stammer out, "I hope, madam, you will excuse the liberty I +have taken by thus intruding myself upon your notice; but business of +a very delicate and distressing nature induced me to apply to you, as +the only person at all likely to befriend me in my present +difficulty." +</p> + +<p> +Her look of surprise increased; nor do I wonder at it, considering the +ambiguity of my speech. What must she have thought? Nothing very +favourable to me, I am sure. I could have bitten my tongue off for my +want of tact, but the blunder was out, and she answered with some +asperity:—"That we were almost strangers to each other, and that she +could not imagine in what way she could serve me, without my request +was a pecuniary one, in which case she owed me a debt of gratitude +which she would gladly repay; that she had heard with sorrow from Mr. +Theophilus Moncton, the manner in which I had been expelled from his +father's office; that she bitterly lamented she or her niece should +have directly or indirectly been the cause of my disgrace. She had +been told, however, that the cause of Mr. Moncton's displeasure +originated in my own rash conduct, and she feared that no application +from her in my behalf, would be likely to effect a reconciliation +between me and my uncle." +</p> + +<p> +The colour burnt upon my cheek, and I answered with some warmth: "God +forbid! that I should ever seek it at his hands! It is neither to +solicit charity nor to complain to you, Mrs. Hepburn, of my past +ill-treatment, that I sought an interview with you this morning. +But—but"—and my voice faltered, and my eyes sought the ground, "I +was told last night that you were the intimate friend of my mother." +</p> + +<p> +"And who, sir, was your mother?" +</p> + +<p> +"Her name was Ellen Rivers." +</p> + +<p> +"Good Heavens! you the son of Ellen Rivers!" and the calm face became +intensely agitated. "You, Geoffrey Moncton, the child of my first and +dearest friend! I was told you were the natural son of her husband." +</p> + +<p> +"But was he her husband?" and I almost gasped for breath. +</p> + +<p> +"Who dares to doubt it?" +</p> + +<p> +"This same honourable uncle of mine. He positively affirms that my +mother was never lawfully the wife of Edward Moncton. He has branded +the names of my parents with infamy, and destroyed every document +which could prove my legitimacy. The only advantage which I derived +from a niggardly destiny, my good name, has been wrenched from me by +this cold-blooded villain!" +</p> + +<p> +I was too much excited to speak with moderation; I trembled with +passion. +</p> + +<p> +"Be calm, Mr. Geoffrey," said Mrs. Hepburn, speaking in a natural and +affectionate tone. "Let us go at length into the matter, and if I can +in any way assist you, I will do so most cheerfully; although I must +confess, that as matters stand between the families just now, it is +rather an awkward piece of business. Your uncle, perhaps, never knew +that I was acquainted with Miss Rivers, or felt any interest in her +fate. These deep-seeing men often overreach themselves. But let me +hear the tale you have to tell, and then I can better judge of its +truth or falsehood." +</p> + +<p> +Encouraged by the change in Mrs. Hepburn's tone and bearing, I gave +her a brief statement of the events of my life, up to the hour in +which I came to an open rupture with my uncle; and he basely destroyed +my articles, and I found myself cast upon the world without the means +of subsistence. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Hepburn was greatly astonished at the narration, and often +interrupted me to express her indignation. +</p> + +<p> +"And this is the man, who bears such a fair character to the world. +The friend of the friendless, and the guardian of innocence! Geoffrey +Moncton, you make me afraid of the world, of myself—of every one. But +what are you doing for a living, and what brings you into Derbyshire?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am living at present in the family of Sir Alexander Moncton, who +has behaved in the most generous manner to his <i>poor relation</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"You have in him a powerful protector." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, and I may add, without boasting, a sincere friend. It is at his +expense, and on his instigation that I am here, in order to find out +some clue by which I may trace the marriage of my dear mother, and +establish a legitimate claim to the title and estates of Moncton, at +the worthy Baronet's demise, an event, which may God keep far +distant," I added with fervour. "If I fail in this object, the +property devolves to Robert Moncton and his son." +</p> + +<p> +"I see it, I see it all; but I fear, Mr. Geoffrey, that your uncle has +laid his plans too deeply for us to frustrate. I feel no doubts, as to +your mother's marriage, though I was not present when that event took +place, but I can tell you the church in which the ceremony was +performed. Your mother was just of age, and the consent of parents was +unnecessary, as far as the legality of the marriage was concerned." +</p> + +<p> +"God bless you!" cried I, taking the hand she extended to me, and +pressing it heartily between my own. "My mother's son blesses you, for +the kind sympathy you have expressed in his welfare. You are my good +angel, and have inspired me with a thousand new and pleasing hopes." +</p> + +<p> +"These will not, however, prove your legitimacy, my young friend," +said she, with a smile, "so restrain your ardour for a more fortunate +time. I have a letter from your mother, written the morning after her +marriage, describing her feelings during the ceremony and the remorse +which marred her happiness, for having disobeyed and abandoned her +aged father. She mentions her old nurse, and her father's gardener, as +being the only witnesses present, and remarks on the sexton giving her +away, as a bad omen, that she felt superstitious about it, and that +her husband laughed at her fears. +</p> + +<p> +"The register of the marriage, you say, has been destroyed. The +parties who witnessed it, are most likely gathered to their fathers. +But the very circumstance of the register having been destroyed, and +this letter of your mother's, will, I think, be greatly in your +favour. At all events, the parish of —— is only a pleasant ride +among the Derby hills; and you can examine the registers for a +trifling donation to the clerk; and ascertain from him, whether Mr. +Roche, the clergyman who then resided in the parish, or his sexton, +are still living. I will now introduce you to my niece, who always +speaks of you with interest, and refuses to believe the many things +advanced by your cousin to your disadvantage." +</p> + +<p> +"Just like Miss Lee," said I. "She is not one to listen to the +slanders of an enemy, behind one's back. I heard in the village, that +Mr. Theophilus was in this neighbourhood, and a suitor of Miss Lee's." +</p> + +<p> +"A mere village gossip. He is staying with Mr. Thurton, who lives in +the pretty old-fashioned house, you passed on the hill on your way +hither, and is a frequent visitor here. Mr. Moncton is anxious to +promote an alliance between his son and my niece. In birth and fortune +they are equals, and the match, in a worldly point of view, +unexceptional." +</p> + +<p> +"And Theophilus?" +</p> + +<p> +"Is the most devoted of lovers." +</p> + +<p> +"Execrable villain! and his poor young wife dying at the Hall of a +broken heart. Can such things be, and the vengeance of heaven sleep!" +</p> + +<p> +"You don't mean to insinuate that Mr. Theophilus Moncton is a married +man." +</p> + +<p> +"I scorn insinuations, I speak of facts; which to his face, I dare him +to deny." +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Kate!" cried Mrs. Hepburn sinking back in her chair. "I have +combated for several weeks with what I considered an unreasonable +prejudice on her part against this marriage. And this very morning I +was congratulating myself on the possibility of getting her to receive +Mr. Moncton's suit more favourably. Ah, Mr. Geoffrey! doubly her +preserver, your timely visit has saved the dear girl from unutterable +misery." +</p> + +<p> +I then informed Mrs. Hepburn of all the particulars of this +unfortunate marriage. Of young Moncton's desertion and barbarous +treatment of his wife—of her attempted suicide, and the providential +manner in which she had been rescued by me from the grave. +</p> + +<p> +This painful interview, which had lasted several hours, was at length +terminated by the entrance of Miss Lee and Theophilus, who had been +absent riding with some friends. +</p> + +<p> +They entered from the garden, and Mrs. Hepburn and I were so deeply +engaged in conversation that we did not notice their approach until +Catherine called out in a tone of alarm:—"Mr. Geoffrey Moncton here, +and my aunt in tears? What can have happened?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Kate, you will be glad to see an old friend," said her aunt. "To +you, Mr. Moncton," turning to Theophilus, "he is the bearer of sad +tidings." +</p> + +<p> +"Anything happened to my father?" said Theophilus, looking towards me +with an expression in his green eyes, of intense and hungry inquiry, +which for a moment overcame his first glance of aversion and contempt. +</p> + +<p> +I read the meaning of that look, and answered scorn for scorn. +</p> + +<p> +"Of your father and <i>his</i> affairs I know nothing. The tie of +kindred is broken between us. I wish that I knew as little of you and +yours." +</p> + +<p> +"What do you mean?" and his pale cheek flushed with crimson. "Is it to +traduce my character, to insult me before ladies, that you dare to +intrude yourself in my company? What brings you here? What message +have you for me?" +</p> + +<p> +"With you," I said, coldly, "I have no business, nor did I ever wish +to see you again. My steps were guided here by that Providence which +watches over the innocent, and avenges the wrongs of the injured. It +is not my nature to stab even an enemy in the dark. What I have to say +to you will be said openly and to your face." +</p> + +<p> +"This is fine language," said he, bursting into a scornful laugh. "On +what provincial theatre have you been studying, since you were +expelled my father's office?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have not yet learned to act the part of the hypocrite and betrayer, +in the great drama of life; or by lying and deceit to exalt myself +upon the ruin of others." +</p> + +<p> +"Go on, go on," cried he, "I perceive your drift. You are a better +actor than you imagine yourself. Such accusations as you can bring +against me, will redound more to my credit than praise from such +lips." +</p> + +<p> +"Theophilus Moncton," I replied, calmly, "I did not invade the +sanctity of this roof in order to meet and quarrel with you. What I +have to say to you I will communicate elsewhere." +</p> + +<p> +"Here, sir, if you please—here to my face. I am no coward, and that +you know of old. I am certain that you cannot name anything to my +disadvantage, but what I am able triumphantly to refute." +</p> + +<p> +"Well—be it so then. I find you here a suitor for this lady's hand. +Four days ago your wife attempted suicide, and was rescued from a +watery grave by my arm." +</p> + +<p> +"Liar! 'tis false! Do not listen, ladies, to this vile calumniator. He +has a purpose of his own to serve, by traducing my character to my +friends. Let him bring witnesses more worthy of credit than himself, +before you condemn me." +</p> + +<p> +"I condemn no one, Mr. Theophilus," said Mrs. Hepburn, gravely. "Sir +Alexander Moncton is a person of credit, and your wife is at present +under his protection. What can you say to this?" +</p> + +<p> +She spoke in vain. Theophilus left the room without deigning to reply. +We looked in silence at each other. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Lee was the first who spoke:—"He is convicted by his own +conscience. I thought him cold and selfish, but never dreamed that he +was a villain. And the poor young woman, his wife, what is her name?" +</p> + +<p> +"Alice Mornington." +</p> + +<p> +A faint cry burst from the lips of Catherine. I caught her in my arms +before she fell, and placed her in a chair: she had fainted. Mrs. +Hepburn rang the bell for one of her female attendants, and amid the +bustle and confusion of removing Miss Lee to her own apartment, I took +the opportunity of retiring from the scene. +</p> + +<p> +"What new mystery does this involve?" said I, half aloud, as I +sauntered down the thick avenue which led from the house to the +high-road. "Why did the mention of that name produce such an effect +upon Catherine? She cannot be acquainted with the parties. Her +agitation might be accidental. 'Tis strange—very strange"—— +</p> + +<p> +"Stop!" cried a loud voice near me; and pale and haggard, his hands +fiercely clenched, and his eyes starting from his head, Theophilus +confronted me. +</p> + +<p> +"Geoffrey, this meeting must be our last." +</p> + +<p> +"With all my heart;" and folding my arms I looked him steadfastly in +the face. +</p> + +<p> +Never shall I forget the expression of that countenance, transformed +as it was with furious passion; livid, convulsed; every feature +swollen and quivering with malice and despair. It was dreadful to +contemplate—scarcely human. +</p> + +<p> +How often since has it haunted me in dreams. +</p> + +<p> +The desire of revenge had overcome his usual caution. In the mood he +was then in, his puny figure would have been a match for a giant. +</p> + +<p> +"I seek no explanation of your conduct," said he: "we hate each +other;" he gnashed his teeth as he spoke. "I have ruined you, and you +have done your best to return the compliment. But you shall not +triumph in my disgrace: if we fall it shall be together." +</p> + +<p> +He sprang upon me unawares. He wound his thin sinewy arms around me. I +was taken by surprise, and before I could raise my arm to defend +myself from his ferocious attack, I was thrown heavily to the ground. +The last thing that I can distinctly recollect was his thin bony +fingers grasping my throat. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +<a name="IX">CHAPTER IX.</a> +</p> + +<p class="head"> +MY NURSE, AND WHO SHE WAS. +</p> + + +<p> +The night was far advanced when I recovered my senses. The room I +occupied was large and spacious; the bed on which I was lying such as +wealth supplies to her most luxurious children. One watch-light with +shaded rays, scarcely illuminated a small portion of the ample +chamber, leaving the remote corners in intense shade. A female figure, +in a long, loose, white wrapping-gown, was seated at the table +reading. Her back was towards me, and my head was too heavy and my +eyes too dim to recognize the person of the stranger. +</p> + +<p> +I strove to lift my head from the pillow; the effort wrung from my +lips a moan of pain. This brought the lady instantly to my side. It +was Mrs. Hepburn's face, but it faded from my sight like the faces +that look upon us in dreams. Recollection and sight failed me—I +remember nothing more. +</p> + +<p> +Many days passed unconsciously over me. Nearly three weeks elapsed +before I was able to bear the light, or ask an explanation of the +past. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Hepburn and Miss Lee were my constant attendants, and a +middle-aged, respectable man in livery, who slept in my apartment, and +rendered me the most kind and essential services. Dan Simpson was an +old servant of the family; had been born on the estate, and lived for +thirty years under that roof. He was a worthy, pious man, and during +my long, tedious illness we contracted a mutual friendship which +lasted to the close of his life. Had it not been for the care and +attention of those excellent women and honest Dan, I might never have +lived to be the chronicler of these adventures. +</p> + +<p> +As I recovered strength, Simpson informed me that the gamekeeper had +witnessed from behind the hedge my encounter with Theophilus, and +prevented further mischief by bursting suddenly upon my adversary, who +had the dastardly meanness to give me several blows after I was +insensible. +</p> + +<p> +Theophilus left his victim with savage reluctance. The gamekeeper +thought at first that I was dead, and he told him that he had better +be off, or he would inform against him, and have him convicted for +murder. This hint was enough, and Theophilus lost no time in quitting +the neighbourhood. +</p> + +<p> +I had fallen with the back of my head against the trunk of a large elm +tree, which had caused concussion of the brain. +</p> + +<p> +"You must be quite still, sir, and talk as little as possible, or +'twill be bad for you," said Simpson. "An' the ladies must come near +you as seldom as they can. We may manage to keep you silent, sir, but +I'll be dashed, if it be possible to keep women's tongues from +wagging. They will talk—no matter the danger to themselves or others; +an' 'tis 'most impossible for a man not to listen to them. They be so +good and pretty. I'd advise you, Master Geoffrey, to shut your eyes, +when our young lady comes in with the mistress to see you, an' then +you'll no be tempted to open your ears." +</p> + +<p> +There was a good deal of wholesome truth in honest Dan's advice, but I +lacked the resolution to adopt it. My eyes and ears were always wide +open when my fair nurse and her aunt approached my bed-side. +</p> + +<p> +It was delightful to me, to listen to the soft tones of Kate Lee's +musical voice, when her sweet fair face was bending over me, and she +inquired in such an earnest and tender manner, "how I was, and how I +had passed the night." +</p> + +<p> +"Always the better for seeing and hearing you, charming Kate," I would +have answered had I dared. +</p> + +<p> +One afternoon, Kate was absent, and the dear old lady, her good aunt +came to sit with me, and read to me while she was away. It was always +good pious books she read, and I tried to feel interested; but they +were dull, and never failed in putting me to sleep. Knowing the +result, I always listened patiently, and in less than half an hour was +certain to obtain my reward. +</p> + +<p> +I have no doubt, that the soporific quality of these sermons, by +quieting my mind and producing wholesome repose, did more to advance +my recovery, than all the lotions and medicines administered by the +family physician, who was another worthy but exceedingly prosy +individual. +</p> + +<p> +It so happened that this afternoon my kind old friend was inclined for +a chat. She sat down near my bed, and after feeling my pulse, and +telling me that I was going on nicely, she began to talk over my late +misadventure. +</p> + +<p> +"It is a mercy that your life was spared, Geoffrey. Who could have +imagined that your cousin, with his smooth courteous manners and +silken voice was such a ruffian." +</p> + +<p> +"The snake is beautiful and graceful," said I, "yet the venom it +conceals produces death. Theophilus has many qualities in common with +the reptile. Smooth, insidious, and deadly; he always strikes to +kill." +</p> + +<p> +"His encounter with you, Geoffrey, has removed every doubt from our +minds, as to his real character and the truth of your statements. I +cannot think, without a shudder, of the bare possibility of my amiable +Kate becoming the wife of such a villain." +</p> + +<p> +"Could Miss Lee really entertain the least regard for such a man?" +cried I, indignant at the bare supposition. +</p> + +<p> +"Hush! Geoffrey. You must not talk above a whisper. You know Dr. Lake +has forbidden you to do that. Kate never loved Theophilus. She might, +however, have yielded to my earnest importunities for her to become +his wife. Mr. Moncton is her guardian, and some difficulties attend +the settlement of her property, which this union would in all +probability have removed. You know the manner in which some lawyers +cut out work for themselves, Mr. Moncton. I have no doubt, it is the +only real obstacle in the way." +</p> + +<p> +"More than probable," whispered I, for I wanted the old lady to go on +talking about Kate; "but, dear Mrs. Hepburn, I have a perfect horror +of these marriages without affection; they seldom turn out well. Poor +as I am I would never sacrifice the happiness of a whole life by +contracting such a marriage." +</p> + +<p> +"Young people always think so, but a few years produce a great change +in their sentiments. I am always sorry when I hear of a young man or +woman being desperately in love, for it generally ends in +disappointment. A heavy trial of this kind—a most unfortunate +engagement in early youth, has rendered poor Catherine indifferent to +the voice of love." +</p> + +<p> +I felt humbled and mortified by this speech. I turned upon my pillow +to conceal my face from my kind nurse. Good heavens! Could it be true, +that I had only loved the phantom of a dream—had followed for so many +weary months a creature of imagination—a woman who had no heart to +bestow upon her humble worshipper? +</p> + +<p> +I had flattered myself that I was not indifferent to Miss Lee: had +even dared to hope that she loved me. What visions of future happiness +in store for me, had these presumptuous hopes foretold. What stately +castles had I not erected upon this sandy foundation, which I was now +doomed to see perish, as it were within my grasp? +</p> + +<p> +My bosom heaved, and my eyes became dim, but I proudly struggled with +my feelings, and turning to Mrs. Hepburn, I inquired with apparent +calmness, "If any letters had arrived for me?" She said she did not +know, but would send to the post-office and inquire. +</p> + +<p> +I then, by mere chance, remembered the name Sir Alexander had bestowed +upon me, and told Simpson, who had just then entered, to ask for +letters for Mr. Tremain. +</p> + +<p> +I felt restless and unhappy, and feigned sleep, in order to be left +alone; and when alone, if a few tears did come to my relief, to cool +the fever in my heart and brain, the reader who has ever loved will +excuse the weakness. +</p> + +<p> +I could not forgive my charming Kate, for having loved another, when I +felt that she ought to have loved me. Had I not saved her life at the +risk of my own? had I not been true to her at the sacrifice of my best +interests, and slighted the pure devoted affection of Margaretta +Moncton, for the love of one who loved me not—who never had loved me, +though I had worshipped her image in the innermost shrine of my heart? +Alas! for poor human nature: this severe trial was more than my +philosophy could bear. +</p> + +<p> +From these painful and mortifying reflections, I was aroused by the +light step of the beautiful delinquent, who, radiant in youth and +loveliness, entered the room. I glanced at her from under my +half-closed eyelids. I regarded her as a fallen angel. She had dared +to love another, and half her beauty had vanished. +</p> + +<p> +She came to my bed-side, and in accents of the tenderest concern, +inquired after my health. +</p> + +<p> +"What have you been doing, Geoffrey: not talking too much, I hope? You +look ill and feverish. See, I have brought you a present—a nosegay of +wild flowers, gathered in the woods. Are they not beautiful?" +</p> + +<p> +To look into her sweet face, and entertain other feelings than those +of respect and admiration, was impossible. I took the flowers from the +delicate white hand that proffered them, and tried to thank her. My +lips quivered. I sighed involuntarily, and turned away. +</p> + +<p> +"You are out of spirits, Geoffrey, my dear friend," said she, sitting +down by my bed-side, and placing her finger on the pulse of the +emaciated hand which lay listlessly on the coverlid: "you must try and +overcome these fits of depression, or you will never get well. I left +you cheerful and hopeful. My dear aunt has been preaching one of her +long sermons, I fear, and that has made you nervous and melancholy." +</p> + +<p> +Another deep sigh and a shake of the head—I could neither look at +her, nor trust myself to speak. +</p> + +<p> +"Your long confinement in this dull room affects your mind, Geoffrey. +It is hard to be debarred the glorious air of heaven during such +lovely summer weather. But cheer up, brave heart, in a few days, the +doctor says, that you may be removed into another room. From the +windows you will then enjoy a delightful prospect, and watch the sun +set every evening behind the purple hills." +</p> + +<p> +"You and your kind aunt are too good to me, Miss Lee. To one in my +unfortunate circumstances, it would have been better for me had I +died." +</p> + +<p> +"For shame! Geoffrey. Such sentiments are unworthy of you—are +ungrateful to the merciful Father who saved you from destruction." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, what inducements have I to live?" +</p> + +<p> +"Many; if it be only to improve the talents which God has committed to +your keeping. For this end your life has been spared, and the heavier +will be your amount of guilt, if you neglect so great salvation. God +has permitted you to assert your innocence—to triumph over your +enemy; has saved you from the premeditated malice of that enemy; and +do you feel no gratitude to Him for such signal mercies?" +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed I have not thought of my preservation in this way before, nor +have I been so grateful as I ought to have been. I have suffered human +passions and affections to stand between me and heaven." +</p> + +<p> +"We are all too prone to do that, Geoffrey. The mind, in its natural +and unconverted state, cannot comprehend the tender mercies of the +Creator. Human nature is so selfish, when left to its own guidance, +that it needs the purifying influences of religion to lift the soul +from grovelling in the dust. I am no bigot—no disputer about creeds +and forms of worship, but I know that without God no one can be happy +or contented in any station of life, under any circumstances." +</p> + +<p> +Seeing that I did not answer, she released the hand that she had +retained within her own, and said very gently: +</p> + +<p> +"Forgive me, Geoffrey, if I have wounded your feelings." +</p> + +<p> +"Go on—go on. I could hear you talk for ever, dear Miss Lee." +</p> + +<p> +"You have grown very formal; Geoffrey—why Miss Lee? During your +illness, I have been simple Kate." +</p> + +<p> +"But I am getting well now," and I tried to smile; my heart was too +sore. "Oh, Catherine," I cried, "forgive my waywardness, for I am very +unhappy." +</p> + +<p> +"You have been placed in very trying circumstances, but I feel an +inward conviction that you will overcome them all." +</p> + +<p> +"My grief, has nothing to do with that," said I, looking at her very +earnestly. +</p> + +<p> +I read in her countenance pity and surprise, but no tenderer emotion. +</p> + +<p> +"May I—dare I, dearest Catherine, unburden my heart to you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Speak freely and candidly, Geoffrey. If I cannot remove the cause of +your distress, you maybe certain of my advice and sympathy." +</p> + +<p> +"Heaven bless you for that!" I murmured, kissing the hand which +disengaged itself gently from my grasp, and with a colour somewhat +heightened, Catherine bent towards me in a listening attitude. +</p> + +<p> +The ice once broken, I determined to tell her all; and in low and +broken accents I proceeded to inform her of my boyish attachment, and +the fond hopes I had dared to entertain, from the kind and flattering +manner in which she had returned my attentions at Mr. Moncton's, and +of the utter annihilation of these ardently cherished hopes, when +informed by Mrs. Hepburn that afternoon, that her affections had been +bestowed upon some more fortunate person. +</p> + +<p> +During my incoherent confession, Miss Lee was greatly agitated. Her +face was turned from me, but from the listless attitude of her figure, +and the motionless repose of the white hand which fell over the arm of +the chair in which she was seated, I saw that she was weeping. +</p> + +<p> +Then came a long, painful pause. Catherine at length wiped away her +tears, and broke the oppressive silence. +</p> + +<p> +"Geoffrey," said she, solemnly, "I have been to blame in this. At the +time you saved my life (a service for which I can never feel +sufficiently grateful, for I value life and all its mercies) I was +young and happy, engaged to one, who in many respects, though older by +some years, resembled yourself. +</p> + +<p> +"When I met you the second time at your uncle's, disappointment had +flung a baleful shade over my first fond anticipations of life; but, +young and sanguine, I still hoped for the best. By some strange +coincidence, your voice and manner greatly resembled those of the man +I loved, and whom I still fondly hoped to meet again. This +circumstance attracted me towards you, and I felt great pleasure in +conversing with you, as every look and tone reminded me of him. This, +doubtless, gave rise to the attachment you have just revealed to me, +and which I must unceasingly lament, as it is impossible for me to +make you any adequate return." +</p> + +<p> +"And is my rival still dear to you, Miss Lee?" +</p> + +<p> +Her lips again quivered, and she turned weeping away. +</p> + +<p> +"I read my fate in your silence. You love him yet?" +</p> + +<p> +"And shall continue to love him whilst I have life, Geoffrey Moncton," +slowly and suffocatingly broke from the pale lips of the trembling +girl. +</p> + +<p> +"And you would have been persuaded by your aunt to marry Theophilus +Moncton." +</p> + +<p> +"Never! Who told you that?" and her eye flashed proudly, almost +scornfully upon me. +</p> + +<p> +"Your good aunt." +</p> + +<p> +"She knows nothing about it. I ceased to oppose her wishes in words, +because I found that it might produce a rupture between us. Women of +my aunt's age have outlived their sympathies in affairs of the heart. +What they once felt they have forgotten, or look upon as a weakness +which ought not to be tolerated in their conversations with the young. +But look at that fine, candid face, Geoffrey; that open benevolent +brow, and tell me, if having once loved the original, it is such an +easy matter to forget or to find a substitute in such a being as +Theophilus Moncton." +</p> + +<p> +As she said this she took a portrait that was suspended by a gold +chain from the inner folds which covered her beautiful bosom, and +placed it in my hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Good heavens!" cried I, sinking back upon the pillow, "my friend, +<i>George Harrison</i>!" +</p> + +<p> +"Who? I know no one of that name." +</p> + +<p> +"True—true. George Harrison—Philip Mornington—they are the same. +And his adored and lost Charlotte Laurie, and my beautiful Catherine +Lee are identified. I see through it now. He hid the truth from me, +fearing that it might destroy our friendship. Honesty in this, as in +all other cases, would have been the best policy." +</p> + +<p> +"Philip is still alive! Not hearing of him for so many months made me +conclude that he was either dead or had left England in disgust." +</p> + +<p> +"He still lives, and loves you, Kate, with all the fervour of a first +attachment." +</p> + +<p> +"I do not deserve it, Geoffrey. I dared to mistrust his honour, to +base listen to calumnies propagated by Theophilus and his father, +purposely, I now believe, to injure him in my estimation. But what +young girl, ignorant of the world and the ways of designing men, could +suspect such a grave, plausible man as Robert Moncton, who outwardly +always manifested the most affectionate interest in my happiness? I +much fear that my coldness had a very bad effect upon Philip's +character, and was the means of leading him into excesses, which +ultimately led to his ruin." +</p> + +<p> +I was perplexed, and knew not what answer to make, for she had hit +upon the plain truth. To tell her so, was to plunge an amiable +creature into the deepest affliction, and to withhold it was not doing +justice to the friend, whom, above all men I valued. +</p> + +<p> +With the quick eye of love, and the tact of woman, Kate perceived my +confusion, and guessed the cause; she broke into a fit of passionate +weeping. +</p> + +<p> +"Dear Kate," I began, with difficulty raising myself on the pillow, +"control this violent emotion, and I will tell you all I know of my +friend." +</p> + +<p> +She looked eagerly up through her tears; but the task I had imposed +upon myself was beyond my strength to fulfil. My nerves were so +completely shattered by the agitating effects of the past scene, that +I sank back exhausted and gasping on the pillow. +</p> + +<p> +"Not now, not now, Geoffrey, you are unequal to the task. This +conversation has tried you too much." And raising my head upon her +arm, she bathed my temples with eau de Cologne, and hastened to +administer a restorative from the phial that stood on the table. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall be better now I know the worst," said I; and closing my eyes +for a few moments, my head rested passively on her snow-white +shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +A few hours back, and the touch of those fair hands would have +thrilled my whole frame with delight; but now it awoke in me little or +no emotion. The beautiful dream had vanished. My adored Catherine Lee +was the betrothed of my friend; and I could gaze upon her pale +agitated face with calmness—with brotherly, platonic love. I was only +now anxious to effect a reconciliation between George and his Kate, I +rejoiced that the means were in all probability in my power. +</p> + +<p> +The entrance of Mrs. Hepburn with letters, put an end to this painful +scene; while their contents gave rise to other thoughts and feelings, +hopes and fears. +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot read them yet," said I, after having examined the +handwriting in which the letters were directed. "My eyes are dim. I am +too weak. The rest of an hour will restore me. The sight of these +letters makes me nervous, and agitates me too much. They are from Sir +Alexander and his daughter, and may contain important tidings." +</p> + +<p> +"Let us go, dear aunt," whispered Kate, slipping her arm through Mrs. +Hepburn's. "It will be better to leave Geoffrey for awhile alone." +</p> + +<p> +They left the room instantly. I was relieved by their absence. My +heart was oppressed with painful thoughts. I wanted to be alone—to +commune with my own spirit, and be still. +</p> + +<p> +A few minutes had scarcely elapsed, before I was sound asleep. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +<a name="X">CHAPTER X.</a> +</p> + +<p class="head"> +MY LETTERS. +</p> + + +<p> +Day was waning into night, when I again unclosed my eyes. A sober calm +had succeeded the burning agitation of the previous hours. I was no +longer a lover—or at least the lover of Catherine Lee. My thoughts +had returned to Moncton Park, and in dreams the fairy figure of +Margaret had flitted beside me, through its green arcades. My heart +was free to love her who so loved me, and by the light of the lamp I +eagerly opened up the letters, which I had grasped during my slumbers +tightly in my hand. +</p> + +<p> +But before I could decipher a line, my worthy friend Dan came to the +rescue. "I cannot permit that, Master Geoffrey," said he; "your eyes +are too weak to read such fine penmanship." +</p> + +<p> +"My good fellow, only a few lines. You must allow me to do that." +</p> + +<p> +"Not a word. What is the use of all this nursing if you will have your +own way? You will be dead at this rate in less than a week." +</p> + +<p> +"What a deal of trouble that would save you!" said I, looking at him +reproachfully. +</p> + +<p> +"Who called it trouble? not I," said honest Dan. "The trouble is a +pleasure, if you will only be tractable and obey those who mean you +well. Now don't you see what comes of acting against reason and common +sense. You would talk to the mistress the whole blessed afternoon. +Several times I came to the door, and it was still talk, talk, talk; +and when my young lady comes home and the old mistress was fairly +tired, and walked out to give her tongue a rest, it was still the same +with the young one—talk, talk, talk, and no end to the talk, till you +well nigh fainted; and if it had not been for God's Providence that +set you off fast asleep, you might have died of the talk fever." +</p> + +<p> +"But I am better now, Daniel: you see the talking did me no harm, but +good." +</p> + +<p> +"Tout! tout! man, a bad excuse, you know, is better than none they +say. But I think it's far worse, for 'tis generally an invented lie, +just to cheat the Devil or one's own conscience; howsomever, I doubt +much whether the Devil was ever cheated by such practices, but did not +always win in the long run by that sort of <i>stale mate</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"Are you a chess player?" I asked in some surprise. +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, just in a small way. Old Jenkins the butler and I often have a +tuzzle together in his pantry, which sometimes ends in a <i>stale +mate</i>—he! he! he!—Jenkins, who is a dry stick, says that a stale +mate is better than stale fish, or a glass of flat champagne—he! he! +he!" +</p> + +<p> +"I perfectly agree with Jenkins. But don't you see, my good Daniel, +that you blame me for talking with the ladies, and wanting to read a +love-letter; while you are making me act quite as imprudently, by +laughing and talking with you." +</p> + +<p> +"A love-letter did you say?" and he poked his long nose nearly into my +face, and squinted down with a glance of intense curiosity at the open +letter I still held in my hand. "Why that is rather a temptation to a +young gentleman, I must own; cannot I read it for you, sir? I am as +good a scholar as our clerk." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't at all doubt your capabilities, Simpson. But you see, this is +a thing I really can only do for myself. The young lady would not like +her letter to be made public." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Lord, sir, you don't imagine that I would say a word about it. I +have kept secrets before now; ay, and ladies' secrets too. I was the +man who helped your father to carry off Miss Ellen. It was I held the +horses at the corner of the lane, while he took her out of the +chamber-window. I drove them to——church next morning, and waited at +the doors till they were married; and your poor father gave me five +golden guineas to drink the bride's health. Ah! she was a bride worth +the winning. A prettier woman I never saw: she beat my young lady +hollow, though some folks do think Miss Catherine a beauty." +</p> + +<p> +"You did not witness the ceremony?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, sir; but as I sat on the box of the carriage, I saw old Parson +Roche go up to the aisle in his white gown, with a book in his hand, +and if it were not to marry the young folks, what business had he +there?" +</p> + +<p> +"What, indeed!" thought I. "This man's evidence may be of great value +to me." +</p> + +<p> +I lay silent for some minutes thinking over these circumstances, and +quite forgot my letter until reminded of it by Simpson. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, sir, I'm thinking that I will allow you to read that letter; if +you will just put on my spectacles to protect your eyes from the +light." +</p> + +<p> +"But I could not see with them, Simpson; spectacles, like wives, +seldom suit anybody but the persons to whom they belong. Besides, you +know, old eyes and young eyes never behold the same objects alike." +</p> + +<p> +"Maybe," said the old man. "But do just wait patiently until I can +prop you up in the bed, and put the lamp near enough for you to see +that small writing. Tzet, tzet—what a pity it is that young ladies, +now-a-days, are ashamed of writing a good, legible hand. You will +require a double pair of specs to read yon." +</p> + +<p> +The old man's curiosity was almost as great as his kindness; and I +should have felt annoyed at his peeping and prying over my shoulder, +had I not been certain that he could not decipher, without the aid of +the said spectacles, a single word of the contents. I was getting +tired of his loquacity, and was at last obliged to request him to go, +which he did most reluctantly, begging me as he left the room to have +mercy on my poor eyes. +</p> + +<p> +There was some need of the caution; for the fever had left me so weak +that it was with great difficulty I succeeded in reading Margaretta's +letter. +</p> + +<div class="blockquote"> +<p class="noindent"> + "<span class="sc">Dear Cousin Geoffrey</span>, +</p> + +<p> + "We parted with an assurance of mutual friendship. I shall not + waste words in apologizing for writing to you. As a friend I may + continue to love and value you, convinced that the heart in which + I trust will never condemn me for the confidence I repose in it. +</p> + +<p> + "I have suffered a severe affliction since you left us, in the + death of poor Alice, which took place a fortnight ago. She died in + a very unsatisfactory frame of mind, anxious to the last to behold + her unprincipled husband or Dinah North. The latter, however, has + disappeared, and no trace of her can be discovered. +</p> + +<p> + "There was some secret, perhaps the same that you endeavoured so + fruitlessly to wrest from her, which lay heavily upon the poor + girl's conscience, and which she appeared eager to communicate + after the power of utterance had fled. The repeated mention of her + brother's name during the day which preceded her dissolution, led + me to the conclusion that whatever she had to divulge was + connected with him. But she is gone, and the secret has perished + with her, a circumstance which we may all have cause to regret. +</p> + +<p> + "And this is the first time, Geoffrey, that I have looked upon + death—the death of one, whom from infancy I have loved as a + sister. The sight has filled me with awe and terror; the more so, + because I feel a strange presentiment that my own end is not far + distant. +</p> + +<p> + "This, my dear cousin, you will say is the natural result of + watching the decay of one so young and beautiful as Alice + Mornington—one, who, a few brief months ago, was full of life, + and health, and hope; that her death has brought more forcibly + before me the prospect of my own mortality. Perhaps it is so. I do + not wish to die, Geoffrey; life, for me, has many charms. I love + my dear father tenderly. To his fond eyes I am the light of + life—the sole thing which remains to him of my mother. I would + live for his sake to cherish and comfort him in his old age. I + love the dear old homestead with all its domestic associations, + and I could not bid adieu to you, my dear cousin, without keen + regret. +</p> + +<p> + "And then, the glorious face of nature—the fields, the flowers, + the glad, bright sunbeams, the rejoicing song of birds, the voice + of waters, the whispered melodies of wind-stirred leaves, the + green solitudes of the dim mysterious forest, I love—oh, how I + love them all! +</p> + +<p> + "Yes, these are dear to my heart and memory; yet I wander + discontentedly amid my favourite haunts. My eyes are ever turned + to the earth. A spirit seems to whisper to me in low tones, 'Open + thy arms, mother, to receive thy child.' +</p> + +<p> + "I struggle with these waking phantasies; my eyes are full of + tears. I feel the want of companionship. I long for some friendly + bosom to share my grief and wipe away my tears. The sunshine of my + heart has vanished. Ah, my dear friend, how earnestly I long for + your return! Do write, and let us know how you have sped. My + father came back to the Hall the day after the funeral of poor + Alice. He marvels like me at your long silence. He has important + news to communicate which I must not forestall. +</p> + +<p> + "Write soon, and let us know that you are well and happy; a line + from you will cheer my drooping heart. +</p> + +<p> + "Yours, in the sincerity of love, +</p> + +<p class="sig"> + "<span class="sc">Margaretta Moncton</span>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + "Moncton Park, July 22, 18—." +</p></div> + +<p> +I read this letter over several times, until the characters became +misty, and I could no longer form them into words. A thousand times I +pressed it to my lips, and vowed eternal fidelity to that dear writer. +Yet what a mournful tale it told! The love but half-concealed, was +apparent in every line. I felt bitterly, that I was the cause of her +dejection; that hopeless affection for me was undermining her health. +</p> + +<p> +I would write to her instantly—would tell her all. Alas! my hand, +unnerved by long illness, could no longer guide the pen—and how could +I employ the hand of another? I cursed my unlucky accident, and the +unworthy cause of it: and in order to divert my thoughts from this +melancholy subject, I eagerly tore open Sir Alexander's letter. +</p> + +<p> +The paper fell from my grasp, I was not able to read. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Hepburn appeared like a good angel, followed by honest Dan, +bearing candles, and the most refreshing of all viands to an +invalid—a delicious cup of fragrant tea, the very smell of which was +reviving; and whilst deliberately sipping the contents of my second +cup, I requested Mrs. Hepburn, as a great favour, to read to me Sir +Alexander's letter. +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps it may contain family secrets?" said she, with an inquiring +look, whilst her hand rested rather tenaciously upon the closely +written sheets. +</p> + +<p> +"After the confidence which we have mutually reposed in each other, my +dear madam, I can have no secret to conceal. You are acquainted with +my private history, and I flatter myself, that neither you, nor your +amiable niece, are indifferent to my future welfare." +</p> + +<p> +"You only do us justice, Geoffrey," said the kind woman, +affectionately pressing my hand, after re-adjusting my pillows. "I +love you for your mother's sake; I prize you for your own; and I hope +you will allow me to consider you in the light of that son, of whom +Heaven early deprived me." +</p> + +<p> +"You make a rich man of me at once," I cried, respectfully kissing her +hand. "How can I be poor—while I possess so many excellent friends? +Robert Moncton, with all his wealth, is a beggar, when compared to the +hitherto despised Geoffrey." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, let us leave off complimenting each other," said Mrs. Hepburn, +laughing; "and please to lie down like a good boy and compose +yourself, and listen attentively to what your uncle has to say to you." +</p> +<div class="blockquote"> +<p class="noindent"> + "<span class="sc">My dear Geoff.</span> +</p> + +<p> + "What the deuce, man, has happened to you, that we have received + no tidings from you? Have you and old Dinah eloped together on the + back of a broomstick. The old hag's disappearance looks rather + suspicious. Madge does little else than pine and fret for your + return. I begin to feel quite jealous of you in that quarter. +</p> + +<p> + "I have a long tale to tell you, and scarcely know where to begin. + Next to taking doctor's stuff, I detest letter-writing; and were + you not a great favourite, the pens, ink, and paper might go to + the bottom of the river, before I would employ them to communicate + a single thought. +</p> + +<p> + "I had a very pleasant journey to London, which terminated in a + very unpleasant visit to your <i>worthy</i> uncle. It was not + without great repugnance that I condescended to enter his house, + particularly when I reflected on the errand which took me there. + He received me with one of his blandest smiles, and inquired after + my health with such affectionate interest, that it would have led + a stranger to imagine he really wished me well, instead of + occupying a snug corner in the family vault. +</p> + +<p> + "How I abhor this man's hypocrisy! Bad as he is, that is the very + worst feature in his character. I cut all his compliments short, + however, by informing him that the object of my visit was one of a + very unpleasant nature, which required his immediate attention. +</p> + +<p> + "He looked very cold and spiteful. 'I anticipate your business,' + said he; 'Geoffrey Moncton, I am informed, has found an asylum + with you, and I suppose you are anxious to effect a reconciliation + between us. If such be the purport of your visit, Sir Alexander, + your journey must prove in vain. I never will forgive that + ungrateful young man, nor admit him again into my presence.' +</p> + +<p> + "'You have injured him too deeply, Robert,' said I, calmly (for + you know, Geoff, that it is of little use flying into a passion + with your cold-blooded uncle: he is not generous enough to get + insulted and show fight like another man) 'Geoffrey does not wish + it,' I replied, 'and I should scorn to ask it in his name.' +</p> + +<p> + "The man of law looked incredulous, but did not choose to venture + a reply. +</p> + +<p> + "'It is not of Geoffrey Moncton, the independent warm-hearted + orphan, I wished to speak, who, thank God! has pluck enough to + take his own part, and speak for himself—it is of one, who is a + disgrace to his name and family. I mean your son, Theophilus.' +</p> + +<p> + "'Really, Sir Alexander, you take a great deal of trouble about + matters which do not concern you,' (he said this with a sarcastic + sneer) 'my son is greatly indebted to you for such disinterested + kindness.' +</p> + +<p> + "His cool impudence provoked me beyond endurance: I felt a wicked + pleasure in retaliation, which God forgive me! was far from a + Christian spirit. But I despised the rascal too much at that + moment to pity him. +</p> + +<p> + "'My interference in this matter concerns me more nearly than you + imagine, Mr. Moncton,' said I. 'Your son's unfortunate wife + attempted suicide, but was prevented in the act of drowning + herself by the nephew you have traduced and treated so basely.' +</p> + +<p> + "'Damn her! why did he not let her drown! thundered forth your + uncle.' +</p> + +<p> + "'Because his heart was not hardened in villainy like your own. + Your daughter-in-law now lies dying at my house, and I wish to + transfer the responsibility from my hands into your own.' +</p> + +<p> + "'It was your fault that they ever met,' cried he: 'your love of + low society which threw them together. Theophilus was not a man to + make such a fool of himself—such an infernal fool!' +</p> + +<p> + "And then the torrent burst. The man became transformed into the + demon. He stamped and raved—and tore his hair, and cursed with + the most horrid and blasphemous oaths, the son who had followed so + closely in his own steps. Such a scene I never before + witnessed—such a spectacle of human depravity may it never be my + lot to behold again. In the midst of his incoherent ravings, he + actually threatened, as the consummation of his indignation + against his son, to make you his heir. +</p> + +<p> + "Such is the contradiction inherent in our fallen nature, that he + would exalt the man he hates, to revenge himself upon the son who + has given the death-blow to the selfish pride which has marked his + crooked path through life. +</p> + +<p> + "I left him in deep disgust. It made me think very humbly of + myself. Faith, Geoff, when I look back on my own early career, I + begin to think that we are a bad set; and without you and Madge + raise the moral tone of the family character there is small chance + of any of the other members finding their way to heaven. +</p> + +<p> + "I spent a couple of quiet days with my old friend Onslow, and + then commenced my journey home. At a small village about thirty + miles from London, I was overtaken by such a violent storm of + thunder and rain, that I had to put up at the only inn in the + place for the night. +</p> + +<p> + "In the passage I was accosted by an old man of pleasing + demeanour, and with somewhat of a foreign aspect, who inquired if + he had the honour of speaking to Sir Alexander Moncton? I said + yes, but that he had the advantage of me, as I believed him to be + a perfect stranger. +</p> + +<p> + "He appeared embarrassed, and said, that he did not wonder at my + forgetting him, as it was only in a subordinate situation I had + ever seen him, and that was many years ago. +</p> + +<p> + "I now looked hard at the man, and a conviction of often having + seen him before flashed into my mind. It was an image connected + with bygone years—years of folly and dissipation. +</p> + +<p> + "'Surely you are not William Walters, who for such a long time was + the friend and confidant of Robert Moncton.' +</p> + +<p> + "'The same, at your service.' +</p> + +<p> + "'Mr. Walters,' said I, turning on my heel, 'I have no wish to + resume the acquaintance.' +</p> + +<p> + "'You are right,' replied he, and was silent for a minute or so, + then resumed, in a grave and humble tone; 'Sir Alexander, I trust + we are both better men, or the experience and sorrows of years + have been given to us in vain. I can truly say, that I have deeply + repented of my former sinful life, and I trust that my repentance + has been accepted by that God before whom we must both soon + appear. Still, I cannot blame you, for wishing to have no further + intercourse with one whom you only knew as an unprincipled man. + But for the sake of a young man, who, if living, is a near + connection of yours, I beg you to listen patiently to what I have + to say.' +</p> + +<p> + "'If your communication has reference to Geoffrey, the son of + Edward Moncton, and nephew to Robert, I am entirely at your + service.' +</p> + +<p> + "'He is the man! I have left a comfortable home in the United + States, and returned to England with the sole object in view, of + settling a moral debt which has lain a long time painfully on my + conscience. I was just on my way to Moncton Park to speak to you + on this important subject.' +</p> + +<p> + "My dear Geoff, you may imagine the feelings with which I heard + this announcement. Had I been alone I should have snapped my + fingers, whistled, shouted for joy—anything that would have + diminished with safety the suffocating feeling at my heart. I was + so glad—I never knew how dear you were to me until then. So I + invited the solemn, and rather puritanical-looking white-headed + man to partake of my dinner, and spend the evening in my + apartment, in order to get out of him all that I could concerning + you. The result was most satisfactory. There was no need of bribes + or nut-crackers; he was anxious to make a clean breast of it, for + which I gave him ample absolution. +</p> + +<p> + "Here is his confession, as well as I can remember it:— +</p> + +<p> + "'My acquaintance with Robert Moncton commenced at school. I was + the only son of a rich banker in the city of Norwich. My father + was generous to a fault, and allowed me more pocket-money than my + young companions could boast of receiving from their friends at + home. My father had risen, by a train of fortunate circumstances, + from a very humble station in life, and was ostentatiously proud + of his wealth. He was particularly anxious for me to pass for the + son of a very rich man at school, which he fancied would secure + for me powerful friends, and their interest in my journey through + life. +</p> + +<p> + "'I was not at all averse to his plans, which I carried out to + their fullest extent, and went by the name of <i>Ready-Money + Jack</i>, among my school-mates, who I have no doubt whispered + behind my back, that—fools and their money are soon parted; for + you know, Sir Alexander, this is the way of the world. And there + is no place in which the world and its selfish maxims are more + fully exemplified than in a large boarding-school. +</p> + +<p> + "'I had not been long at school when the two Monctons were + admitted to the same class with myself. Edward was a dashing, + eloquent, brave lad; more remarkable for a fine appearance and an + admirable temper, than for any particular talent. He was a very + popular boy, but somehow or other we did not take to each other. +</p> + +<p> + "'The boyish vanity fostered by my father, made me wish to be + considered the first lad in the school; a notion which Edward took + good care to keep down; and fretted and galled by his assumption + of superiority, I turned to Robert, who was everything but + friendly to Edward, to support my cause and back me in my + quarrels. +</p> + +<p> + "'Robert was a handsome, gentlemanly-looking lad, but quite the + reverse of Edward. He hated rough play, learned his lessons with + indefatigable industry, and took good care to keep himself out of + harm's way. He was the pattern boy of the school. The favourite of + all the teachers. He possessed a grave, specious manner—a cold + quiet reserve, which imposed upon the ignorant and unsuspecting; + and his love of money was a passion which drew all the blood from + his stern proud heart. He saw that I was frank and vain, and he + determined to profit by my weakness. I did not want for natural + capacity, but I was a sad idler. +</p> + +<p> + "'Robert was shrewd and persevering, and I paid him handsomely for + doing my sums and writing my Latin exercises. We became firm + friends, and I loved him for years with more sincerity than he + deserved. +</p> + +<p> + "'As I advanced towards manhood, my poor father met with great + losses; and on the failure of a large firm with which his own was + principally connected, he became a bankrupt. +</p> + +<p> + "'Solely dependent upon my rich father, without any fixed aim or + object in life, I had just made a most imprudent marriage, when + his death, which happened almost immediately upon his reverse of + fortune, awoke me to the melancholy reality which stared me in the + face. +</p> + +<p> + "'In my distress I wrote to Robert Moncton, who had just commenced + practice at his old office in Hatton Garden. He answered my appeal + to his charity promptly, and gave me a seat in his office as + engrossing clerk, with a very liberal salary which, I need not + assure you, was most thankfully accepted by a person in my reduced + circumstances. This place I filled entirely to his satisfaction + for fifteen years, until I was the father of twelve children. +</p> + +<p> + "'My salary was large, but, alas! it was the wages of sin. All + Robert Moncton's dirty work was confided to my hands. I was his + creature—the companion of his worst hours—and he paid me + liberally for my devotion to his interests. But for all this, + there were moments in my worthless life when better feelings + prevailed; when I loathed the degrading trammels in which I was + bound; and often, on the bosom of a dear and affectionate wife, I + lamented bitterly my fallen state. +</p> + +<p> + "'About this period Edward Moncton died, and Robert was appointed + guardian to his orphan child. Property there was none—barely + sufficient to pay the expenses of the funeral. Robert supplied + from his own purse £50, towards the support of the young widow, + until she could look about and obtain a situation as a day + governess or a teacher in a school, for which she was eminently + qualified. +</p> + +<p> + "'I never shall forget the unnatural joy displayed by Robert on + this melancholy occasion: "Thank God! William," said he, clapping + me on the shoulder, after he had read the letter which poor Mrs. + Moncton wrote to inform him of her sudden bereavement, 'Edward is + dead. There is only one stumbling-block left in my path, and I + will soon kick that out of the way.' +</p> + +<p> + "'Three months had scarcely elapsed before I went to —— with + Robert Moncton, to attend the funeral of his sister-in-law. The + sight of the fine boy who acted as chief mourner in that mournful + ceremony cut me to the heart. I was a father myself—a fond + father—and I longed to adopt the poor, friendless child. But what + could a man do who has a dozen of his own? +</p> + +<p> + "'As we were on our road to ——, Robert had confided to me his + plans for setting aside his nephew's claims to the estates and + title of Moncton, in case you should die without a male heir. The + secluded life which Mrs. Moncton had led since her marriage; her + want of relatives to interest themselves in her behalf, and the + dissipated habits of her husband, who had lost all his fine + property at the gaming-table, made the scheme not only feasible, + but presented few obstacles to its accomplishment. +</p> + +<p> + "'Shocked at this piece of daring villainy, I dissembled my + indignation, and while I appeared to acquiesce in his views, I + secretly determined to befriend, if possible, the innocent child. +</p> + +<p> + "'The night prior to the funeral, he called me into his private + office, and after chatting over a matter of little consequence, he + said to me in a careless manner: +</p> + +<p> + "'"By the by, Walters, Basset told me the other day, that you had + taken a craze to go to America. This is your wife's doings, I + suppose. I don't suffer Mrs. Moncton to settle such matters for + me. But is it true?" +</p> + +<p> + "'I said that it had been on my mind for a long time. The want of + funds alone preventing me from emigrating with my family.' +</p> + +<p> + "'"If that is all, the want of money need not hinder you. But + mind, Walters, I am not generous, I expect something for my gold. + You have been faithful to me, and I am anxious to show you that I + am not insensible to your merit. We are old friends, Walter—we + understand each other; we are not troubled with nice scruples, and + dare to call things by their right names. But to the point. +</p> + +<p> + "'"This boy of my brother's, as I was telling you, is a thorn in + my side, which you can remove." +</p> + +<p> + "'"In what way?" said I, in a tone of alarm. +</p> + +<p> + "'"Don't look blue," he replied, and he laughed. "I kill with the + tongue and the pen, and leave to fools the pistol and the knife. + You must go to the parish of —— among the Derby hills, where + Edward was married, and where he resided, enacting love in a + cottage with his pretty, penniless bride, until after this boy, + Geoffrey, was born; and subtract, if possible, the leaves from the + church-register that contain these important entries. Do this with + your usual address, and I will meet all the expenses of your + intended emigration.' +</p> + +<p> + "'The offer was tempting to a poor man, but I still hesitated, + conjuring up a thousand difficulties which either awoke his mirth + or scorn. +</p> + +<p> + "'"The only difficulty that I can find in the business," said he, + "is your unwillingness to undertake it. The miserable old wretch + employed as clerk in the church is quite superannuated. A small + bribe will win him to your purpose, especially as Mr. Roche, the + incumbent, is just now at the sea-side, whither he is gone in the + delusive hope of curing old age. Possessed of these documents, I + will defy the boy to substantiate his claims, provided that he + lives to be a man; for I have carefully destroyed all the other + documents which could lead to prove the legality of his title. The + old gardener and his nurse must be persuaded to accompany you to + America. Old Roche is on his last legs—from him I shall soon have + nothing to fear. What do you say to my proposal—yes or no?" +</p> + +<p> + "'"Yes," I stammered out, "I will undertake it, as it is to be the + last affair of the kind in which I mean to engage." +</p> + +<p> + "'"You will forget it," said he, "before you have half crossed the + Atlantic, and can begin the world with a new character. I will + give you five hundred pounds to commence with." +</p> + +<p> + "'This iniquitous bargain concluded, I went down after the funeral + to ——, on my mission. As my employer anticipated, a few + shillings to the old clerk placed the church-register at my + disposal, from which I carefully cut the leaves (which, in that + quiet, out-of-the way hamlet, were not likely to be missed) which + contained the entries. In a small hut among the hills I found the + old gardener and his widowed daughter, who had been nurse to + Geoffrey and his mother, whom I talked into a fever of enthusiasm + about America, and the happy life which people led there, which + ended in my engaging them, to accompany me. Good and valuable + servants they both proved. They are since dead.' +</p> + +<p> + "'And what became of the entries? Did you destroy them?' +</p> + +<p> + "'I tried to do it, Sir Alexander, but it seemed as if an angel + stayed my hand, and yielding to my impressions at the moment, I + placed them carefully among my private papers. Here they are;' and + taking from his breast-pocket an old-fashioned black leathern + wallet, he placed them in my hand. +</p> + +<p> + "'Here, too,' said he, 'is an affidavit, made by Michael Alzure on + his dying bed, before competent witnesses, declaring that he was + present with his daughter Mary, when the ceremony took place.' +</p> + +<p> + "'This is enough,' said I, joyfully, shaking the old sinner + heartily by the hand. 'The king shall have his own again. But how + did you hoodwink that sagacious hawk, Robert Moncton?' +</p> + +<p> + "'He was from home when I returned to London, attending the + assizes at Bury. I found a letter from him containing a draft upon + his banker for five hundred pounds, and requesting me to deposit + the papers in the iron chest in the garret of which I had the key. + I wrote in reply, that I had done so, and he was perfectly + satisfied with my sincerity, which during fifteen years I had + never given him the least cause to doubt. +</p> + +<p> + "The next week, I sailed for the United States with my family, + determined, from henceforth, to drop all connection with Robert + Moncton, and to endeavour to obtain an honest living. +</p> + +<p> + "'I am now a rich and prosperous man—my children are married and + settled on good farms, in the same neighbourhood, and are in the + enjoyment of the common comforts and many of the luxuries of life. + Still, that little orphan boy haunted me: I could not be happy + while I knew that I had been the means of doing him a foul injury, + and I determined, as soon as I knew that the lad must be of age, + to make a voyage to England, and place in your hands the proofs I + held of his legitimacy. +</p> + +<p> + "'Your powerful assistance, Sir Alexander, and these papers, will + I trust restore to him his lawful place in society, and I am here + to witness against Robert Moncton's villainy.' +</p> + +<p> + "Well, Sir Geoffrey Moncton, that will be, what do you say to your + old uncle's budget? Is not this news worth the postage? Worth + throwing up one's cap and crying hurrah! and better still, + dropping drown upon your knees in the solitude of your own + chamber, and whispering in your clasped hands, 'Thank God! for all + his mercies to me, a sinner?' If you omit the prayer, I have not + omitted it for you; for most fervently I blessed the Almighty + father for this signal instance of his love. +</p> + +<p> + "I returned to the Park, so elated with the result of my journey, + that I could scarcely sympathize in the grief of my poor girl, for + the death of her foster-sister, which took place during my + absence. +</p> + +<p> + "Old Dinah is off. Perhaps gone somewhat before her time to her + appointed place. +</p> + +<p> + "It is useless for you to remain longer in Derbyshire, as we + already possess all you want to know, and you must lose no time in + commencing a suit against your uncle for conspiracy in order to + defraud you out of your rights. Robert's character will never + stand the test of this infamous exposure. +</p> + +<p> + "My sweet Madge looks ill and delicate, and, like the old father, + pines to see you again. You young scamp! you have taken a strange + hold on the heart of your attached kinsman and faithful friend, +</p> + +<p class="sig"> + "<span class="sc">Alexander Moncton</span>." +</p></div> + +<p> +I made my kind friend, Mrs. Hepburn, read over this important letter +twice. It was the longest, I verily believe, that the worthy scribe +ever penned in his life, and which nothing but his affection for me, +could have induced him to write. +</p> + +<p> +"God bless him!" I cried fervently, "how I long to see him again, and +thank him from my very heart for all he has done for me!" +</p> + +<p> +I was so elated, that I wanted to leave my bed instantly, and commence +my journey to the Park. This was, however, but a momentary delusion: I +was too weak, when I made the trial, to sit upright, or even to hold a +pen, which was the most provoking of the two. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Hepburn, at my earnest solicitation, wrote to Sir Alexander a +long and circumstantial account of all that had befallen me since I +left Moncton. That night was full of restless tossings to and fro. I +sought rest, but found it not; nay, I could not even think with +calmness, and the result was, as might have been expected, a great +increase of fever, and for several days I was not only worse, but in +considerable danger. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing could be more tantalizing than this provoking relapse. A +miserable presentiment of evil clouded my mind: my anxiety to write to +Margaretta was painfully intense, and this was a species of +communication which I could not very well convey through another. +</p> + +<p> +To this unfortunate delay, I have attributed much of the sorrows of +after years. Our will is free to plan. Our opportunities of action are +in the hands of God. What I most ardently desired to do I was +prevented from doing by physical weakness. How, then, can any man +affirm that his destiny is in his own hands, when circumstances form a +chain around him, as strong as fate, and the mind battles in vain +against a host of trifles, despicable enough when viewed singly, but +when taken in combination, possessing gigantic strength? +</p> + +<p> +Another painful week wore slowly away, at the end of which I was able +to sit up in a loose dressing-gown for several hours during the day. +</p> + +<p> +I lost not a moment in writing to Margaretta directly I was able to +hold a pen. I informed her of all that had passed between me and +Catherine, and laid open my heart to her, without the least reserve. +Deeming myself unworthy of her love, I left all to her generosity. I +dispatched my letter with a thousand uncomfortable misgivings as to +what effect it might produce upon the sensitive mind of my little +cousin. +</p> + +<p> +To write a long letter to George Harrison was the next duty I had to +perform. But when I reflected on the delight which my communication +could not fail to convey, this was not only an easy, but a delightful +task. I had already arrived at the second closely written sheet, when +a light tap at the door of the room announced the presence of Kate +Lee. +</p> + +<p> +"What, busy writing still, Geoffrey? What will honest Dan say to this +rebellious conduct on the part of his patient? You must lay aside pens +and paper for this day. Your face is flushed and feverish. Don't shake +your head; my word is despotic in this house—I must be obeyed." +</p> + +<p> +"Wait a few minutes, dear Miss Lee, and your will shall be absolute. +It was because I am writing of you, that my letter has run to such an +unconscionable length." +</p> + +<p> +"Of me, Geoffrey?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, of you, my charming friend." +</p> + +<p> +"Nay, you are joking, Mr. Moncton. You would never distress me, by +writing of me to strangers?" +</p> + +<p> +"Strangers! oh no; but this is to one who is most dear to us both." +</p> + +<p> +Catherine turned very pale. +</p> + +<p> +"Geoffrey, I hope that you have not said anything that I could wish +unsaid?" +</p> + +<p> +"Do not look like a scared dove, sweet Kate. Have a little patience, +and you shall read the letter." +</p> + +<p> +"That is asking too much. I will trust to your honour—that innate +sense of delicacy which I know you possess." +</p> + +<p> +"You shall read the letter—I insist upon it. If you do not like it, I +will write another. But you must sit down by me and listen to what I +have to tell you, of my poor friend's history." +</p> + +<p> +She turned her glistening eyes upon me, full of grateful thanks, and +seated herself beside me on the couch. I then recounted to her the +history which George had confided to me, though the narration was +often interrupted by the sighs and tears of my attentive auditor. +</p> + +<p> +After the melancholy tale was told, a long silence ensued. Poor Kate +was too busy with her own thoughts to speak. I put the letter I had +been writing into her hands, and retired to my own chamber, which +opened into the one in which we were sitting, whilst she perused it. +It was a simple statement of the facts related above. I had left him +to draw from them what inference he pleased. When I returned an hour +afterward to the sitting-room, which had been fitted up as such +entirely for my accommodation, the windows opening into a balcony +which ran along the whole front of the house, I found Kate leaning +upon the railing, with the open letter still in her hand. +</p> + +<p> +Her fine eyes were raised and full of tears, but she looked serene and +happy, her beautiful face reminding me of an April sun just emerging +from a soft fleecy cloud, which dimmed, only to increase by softening, +the glory which it could not conceal. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, dear Kate, may I finish my letter to George—for I must call +him so still?" +</p> + +<p> +"No." +</p> + +<p> +"Why not," said I, surprised, and half angry. +</p> + +<p> +"Because I mean to finish it myself. Will you give me permission?" +</p> + +<p> +"By all means: it will make him so happy." +</p> + +<p> +"And you are not jealous?" And as she said this, she bent upon me a +curious and searching glance. +</p> + +<p> +"Not now: a few weeks ago I should have been. To tell you the truth, +dear Kate, I am too egotistical a fellow to love one who does not love +me. I truly rejoice in the anticipated happiness of my friend." +</p> + +<p> +Methought she looked a little disappointed, but recovering herself she +added quickly— +</p> + +<p> +"This is as it should be, yet I must own that my woman's vanity is a +little hurt at the coolness of your philosophy. We all love power, +Geoffrey, and do not like to lose it. Yet I am sincerely glad that you +have conquered an attachment which would have rendered us both +miserable. No fear of a broken heart in your case." +</p> + +<p> +"Such things have been, and may be again, Kate, but I believe them to +belong more to the poetry than the reality of life. Hearts are made of +tough materials. They don't choose to break in the right place, and +just when and where we want them." +</p> + +<p> +She laughed, and asked when I thought I should be able to commence my +journey to Moncton Park! +</p> + +<p> +"In a few days I hope. I feel growing better every hour; my mind +recovers elasticity with returning strength. But how I shall ever +repay you, dear Miss Lee, and your excellent aunt, for your care and +kindness puzzles me." +</p> + +<p> +"Geoffrey, your accident has been productive of great good to us all; +so say no more about it. I, for one, consider myself in your debt. You +have made two friends, whom cruel destiny had separated, most happy." +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +<a name="XI">CHAPTER XI.</a> +</p> + +<p class="head"> +A WELCOME AND AN UNWELCOME VISITOR. +</p> + + +<p> +Three days had scarcely elapsed, when I found myself mounted on my +good steed, and gaily trotting along the road on my way to Moncton +Park. +</p> + +<p> +Honest Dan Simpson insisted on being my companion for the first stage. +"Just," said he, "to take care of me, and see how I got along." I +could gladly have dispensed with his company, for I longed to be +alone; but to hurt the good fellow's feelings, would have been the +height of ingratitude. +</p> + +<p> +He had indignantly rejected the ample remuneration which Sir Alexander +had remitted for his services. +</p> + +<p> +"I took care of you for love, sir. It was no trouble, but a pleasure. +As to money—I don't want it, I have saved a good pile for old age, +and have neither wife nor child to give it to when I die. Lord! sir, I +was afraid that you would take it ill, or I was going to ask you if +you wanted any. I should have been proud to accommodate you, until you +had plenty of your own." +</p> + +<p> +I could have hugged the dear old man in my arms. Fortunately my being +on horseback prevented such an excess. I turned to him to speak my +thanks, but a choking in my throat prevented my uttering a word. He +caught the glance of my moist eye, and dashed the dew, with his hard +hand, from his own. +</p> + +<p> +"I know what you would say, Mr. Geoffrey. But you need not say it—it +would only make me feel bad." +</p> + +<p> +"I shall never forget your kindness, Dan; but will always reckon you +among my best friends." +</p> + +<p> +"That's enough, sir: I'm satisfied, overpaid," and the true-hearted +fellow rode close up to me and held out his hand. I shook it warmly. +He turned his horse quickly round, and the sharp ringing of his hoofs +on the rocky road told me that he was gone. +</p> + +<p> +I rode slowly on; the day was oppressively warm, not a breath of air +stirred the bushes by the road-side, or shook the dust from the tawny +leaves which already had lost their tender green, and were embrowned +beneath the hot gaze of the August noonday sun. Overcome by the heat, +and languid from my long confinement to a sick room, I often checked +my horse and sauntered slowly along, keeping the shady side of the +road, and envying the cattle in the meadows standing mid leg in the +shallow streams. +</p> + +<p> +"There will surely be a storm before night," said I, looking wistfully +up to the cloudless sky, which very much resembled Job's description +of a molten looking-glass. "I feel the breath of the tempest in this +scorching air. A little rain would lay the dust, and render +to-morrow's journey less fatiguing." +</p> + +<p> +My soliloquy was interrupted by the sharp click of a horse's hoofs +behind me, and presently his rider passed me at full speed. A +transient glance at the stranger's face made me suddenly recoil. +</p> + +<p> +It was Robert Moncton. +</p> + +<p> +He looked pale and haggard, and his countenance wore an unusual +appearance of anxiety and care. He did not notice me, and checking my +horse, I felt relieved when a turning in the road hid him from my +sight. +</p> + +<p> +His presence appeared like a bad omen. A heavy gloom sunk upon my +spirits, and I felt half inclined to halt at the small village I was +approaching and rest until the heat of the day had subsided, and I +could resume my journey in the cool of the evening. +</p> + +<p> +Ashamed of such weakness, I resolutely turned my face from every house +of entertainment I passed, and had nearly cleared the long straggling +line of picturesque white-washed cottages, which composed the larger +portion of the village, when the figure of a gentleman pacing to and +fro, in front of a decent-looking inn, arrested my attention. There +was something in the air and manner of this person, which appeared +familiar to me. He raised his head as I rode up to the door. The +recognition was mutual. +</p> + +<p> +"Geoffrey Moncton!" +</p> + +<p> +"George Harrison! Who would have thought of meeting you in this out +of the way place?" +</p> + +<p> +"There is an old saying, Geoffrey—talk of the Devil and he is sure to +appear. I was thinking of you at the very moment, and raising my eyes +saw you before me." +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, that is one of the mysteries of mind, which has still to be +solved," said I, as I dismounted from my horse and followed George +into the house. "I am so heartily glad to see you, old fellow," cried +I, directly we were alone: "I have a thousand things to say to you, +which could not be crowded into the short compass of a letter." +</p> + +<p> +"Hush! don't speak so loud," and he glanced suspiciously round. "These +walls may have ears. I know, that they contain one, whom you would not +much like to trust with your secrets." +</p> + +<p> +"How—is <i>he</i> here?" +</p> + +<p> +"You know whom I mean?" +</p> + +<p> +"Robert Moncton? He passed me on the road." +</p> + +<p> +"Did he recognize you?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think not. His hat was slouched over his forehead; his eyes bent +moodily on the ground. Besides, George, I am so greatly altered by my +long illness; I am surprised that you knew me again." +</p> + +<p> +"Love and hatred, are great sharpeners of the memory. It is as hard to +forget an enemy as a friend. But to tell you the truth, Geoffrey, I +had to look at you twice before I knew who you were. But come +up-stairs—I have a nice snug room, where we can chat in private +whilst dinner is preparing." +</p> + +<p> +"I should like to know what brings Robert Moncton this road," said I, +flinging my weary length upon a crazy old sofa, which occupied a place +in the room more for ornament than use, and whose gay chintz cover, +like charity, hid a multitude of defects. "No good I fear." +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot exactly tell. There is some new scheme in the wind. Harry +Bell, who fills my old place in his office, informed me that a partial +reconciliation had taken place between father and son. This was by +letter, for no personal interview had brought them together. +Theophilus was on his way to Moncton, and appointed the old rascal to +meet him somewhere on the road. What the object of their meeting may +be, time alone can discover. Perhaps, to discover Dinah North's place +of concealment, or to ascertain if the old hag be dead. Her secresy on +some points of their history is a matter of great moment." +</p> + +<p> +"They are a pair of precious scoundrels, and their confederation +portends little good to me." +</p> + +<p> +"You need not care a rush for them now, Geoffrey, you are beyond the +reach of their malice. Moncton is not aware of the return of Walters. +This circumstance will be a death-blow to his ambitious hopes. How +devoutly they must have wished you in Heaven during your illness." +</p> + +<p> +"At one time, I almost wished myself there." +</p> + +<p> +"You were not too ill to forget your friend, Geoffrey," and he rose +and pressed my hand warmly between his own. "How can I thank you +sufficiently for your disinterested kindness. By your generous +sacrifice of self you have made me the happiest of men. I am now on my +way to Elm Grove to meet one, whom I never hoped to meet in this world +again." +</p> + +<p> +"Say nothing about it, George. The sacrifice may be less disinterested +than you imagine: I no longer regret it, and am heartily glad that I +have been instrumental to this joyful change in your prospects. But +why, my good fellow, did you conceal from me the name of the beloved. +Had you candidly told me who the lady was, I should not have wounded +by my coldness a dear and faithful heart." +</p> + +<p> +"Your mind was so occupied by the image of Kate Lee that I dared not." +</p> + +<p> +"It would have saved me a deal of misery." +</p> + +<p> +"And destroyed our friendship." +</p> + +<p> +"You don't know me, George; honesty would have been the best policy, +as it always is, in all cases. I could have given up Kate when I knew +that she loved, and was beloved by my friend. Your want of candour and +confidence may have been the means of destroying Margaretta Moncton." +</p> + +<p> +"Do not look so dreadfully severe, Geoffrey. I admit that truth is the +best guide of all our actions. It was my love for you, however, which +led me to disguise the name of Catherine Lee. You don't know what a +jealous fellow you are, and at that time you were too much excited and +too ill to hear the truth. What I did for the best has turned out, as +it sometimes does, quite contrary to my wishes. You must forgive me, +Geoffrey. It is the first time I ever deceived you, and it will be the +last." +</p> + +<p> +He took my hand and looked earnestly into my face, with those mild, +melancholy eyes. To be angry long with him was impossible. It was far +more easy to be angry with myself; so, I told him that I forgave him +from my very heart, and would no longer harbour against him an unkind +thought. +</p> + +<p> +I was still far from well, low-spirited and out of humour with myself +and the whole world. I felt depressed with the mysterious and +unaccountable dejection of mind, which often precedes some +unlooked-for calamity. +</p> + +<p> +In vain were all my efforts to rouse myself from this morbid lethargy. +The dark cloud which weighed down my spirits would not be dispelled. I +strove to be gay; the laugh died upon my lips or was choked by +involuntary sighs. George, who was anxiously watching my countenance, +rose and walked to the window; and, tired of my uneasy position on the +hard, crazy, old sofa, and willing to turn the current of my thoughts +from flowing in such a turbid bed, I followed his example. +</p> + +<p> +We stood for a while in silence, watching the groups which +occasionally gathered beneath the archway of the little inn, to +discuss the news of the village. +</p> + +<p> +"You are not well, Geoffrey. Your journey has fatigued you. Lie down +and rest for a few hours." +</p> + +<p> +"Sleep is out of the question in my present feverish state. I will +resume my journey." +</p> + +<p> +"What, in the face of the storm which is rapidly gathering! Do you see +that heavy cloud in the north-west?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am not afraid of thunder." +</p> + +<p> +"It has a particular effect upon some people. It gives me an +intolerable headache, hours before it is even apparent in the heavens. +To this cause I attribute your sudden depression of spirits." +</p> + +<p> +I shook my head sceptically. +</p> + +<p> +"Then, do tell me, dear Geoffrey, what it is that disturbs you?" +</p> + +<p> +"My own thoughts. Do not laugh, George. These things to the sufferer +are terrible realities. I am oppressed by melancholy anticipations of +evil. A painful consciousness of approaching sorrow. I have +experienced this often before, but never to such an extent as to-day. +Let me have my own way. It is good for me to combat with the evil +genius alone." +</p> + +<p> +"I think not. Duty compels us to combat with such feelings. The +indulgence of them tends to shake our reliance on the mercy of God, +and to render us unhappy and discontented." +</p> + +<p> +"This is one of the mysteries of mind which we cannot comprehend. The +links which unite the visible with the invisible world. But whether +they have their origin from above or beneath is, to me, very doubtful; +unless such presentiments operate as a warning to shun impending +danger. +</p> + +<p> +"I hear no admonitory voice within. All is dark, still and heavy, like +the black calm that slumbers in the dense folds of yon thundercloud; +as if the mind was suddenly deprived of all vital energy, and crouched +beneath an overwhelming consciousness of horror." +</p> + +<p> +George gave me a sudden sidelong scrutinizing glance, as if he +suspected my recent accident had impaired my reason. +</p> + +<p> +A vivid flash of lightning, followed by a sudden crash of thunder, +made us start some paces back from the window, and a horseman dashed +at full speed into the inn yard. +</p> + +<p> +Another blinding flash—another roar of thunder, which seemed to fill +the whole earth and heavens, made me involuntarily close my eyes, when +an exclamation from George—"Good heavens, what an escape!"—made me +as quickly hurry to the window. +</p> + +<p> +The lightning had struck down the horse and rider whom we had before +observed. The nobler animal alone was slain. +</p> + +<p> +The avenging bolt of heaven had passed over and left the head of the +rider, Theophilus Moncton, unscathed! +</p> + +<p> +Livid with recent terror, and vexed with the loss of the fine animal +at his feet, he cast a menacing glance at the lowering sky above, and +bidding the ostler with an oath (which sounded like double blasphemy +in our ears) to take care of the saddle and bridle, he entered the +inn, shaking the mud and rain from his garments, and muttering +indistinct curses on his ill-luck. +</p> + +<p> +"The blasphemous wretch!" cried I, drawing a long breath. "Bad as the +father is, he is an angel when compared with the son." +</p> + +<p> +"Geoffrey, he is what the father has made him. I would give much to +witness the meeting." +</p> + +<p> +"You would see a frightful picture of human guilt and depravity. Half +his fortune would scarcely bribe me to witness such a revolting +scene." +</p> + +<p> +The rain was now pouring in torrents, and one inky hue had overspread +the whole heavens. Finding that we were likely to be detained some +hours, George ordered dinner, and we determined to make ourselves as +comfortable as circumstances would admit. +</p> + +<p> +All our efforts to provoke mirth, however, proved abortive. The +silence of our meal was alone broken by the dull clattering of knives +and forks, and the tinkling of the bell to summon the brisk waiter to +bring wine and draw the cloth. But if we were silent, an active spirit +was abroad in the house, and voices in loud and vehement altercation +in the room adjoining, arrested our attention. +</p> + +<p> +The muttered curse, the restless, impatient walking to and fro, +convinced us that the parties were no other than Robert Moncton and +his son, and that their meeting was not likely to have a very amicable +termination. At length, the voice of my uncle in a terrible state of +excitement, burst forth with this awful sentence: +</p> + +<p> +"I discard you, sir! From this day you cease to be my son. Go, and +take my curse along with you! Go to ——! and may we never meet in +time or eternity again." +</p> + +<p> +With a bitter, sneering laugh the disinherited replied: "In heaven we +shall never meet; on earth, perhaps, we may meet too soon. In the +place to which you have so unceremoniously sent me, I can perceive +some lingering remains of paternal affection—that where you are, I +may be also." +</p> + +<p> +"Hold your tongue, sir. Dare you to bandy words with me?" +</p> + +<p> +"It would be wisdom in you, my most righteous progenitor, to bribe me +to do so, when you know how much that tongue can reveal." +</p> + +<p> +Another sneering derisive laugh from the son, of fiendish exultation, +and a deep, hollow groan from the father, and the unhallowed +conference was over. +</p> + +<p> +Some one passed the door with rapid steps. I talked to the window as +Theophilus emerged into the court-yard below. He raised his eyes to +the window: I met their dull, leaden stare; he started and stopped; I +turned contemptuously away. +</p> + +<p> +Presently after we heard him bargaining for a horse to carry him as +far as York on his way to London. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't envy Robert Moncton's feelings," said George. "What can have +been the cause of this violent quarrel?" +</p> + +<p> +"It may spring from several causes. His son's marriage alone would be +sufficient to exasperate a man of his malignant disposition. But look, +Harrison, the clouds are parting in the west. The moon rises early; +and we shall have a lovely night after the rain for our journey to +York." +</p> + +<p> +"Our—I was going by the coach which passes through the village in an +hour to Elm Grove. But now I think of it, I will postpone my visit +until the morrow, and accompany you a few miles on your way." +</p> + +<p> +"I should be delighted with your company, George, but——" +</p> + +<p> +"You would rather be alone, nursing these gloomy thoughts?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not exactly. But it will postpone your visit to Miss Lee." +</p> + +<p> +"Only a few hours; and as I wrote yesterday and never mentioned my +visit, which was a sudden whim (one of your <i>odd</i> presentiments, +Geoffrey, which seemed to compel me almost against my will to come +here) she cannot be disappointed. To tell you the truth, I did not +like the look with which your cousin recognized you. When rogues are +abroad it behoves honest men to keep close together. I am determined +to see you safe to York." +</p> + +<p> +I was too much pleased with the proposal to raise any obstacles in the +way. We fell into cheerful conversation, and whilst watching the +clearing up of the weather, we saw Robert Moncton mount his horse and +ride out of the inn-yard. +</p> + +<p> +"The sun is breaking through the clouds, George. It is time we were +upon the road." +</p> + +<p> +"With all my heart," said he; and a few minutes after we were upon our +journey. +</p> + +<p> +The freshness of the air after the heavy rains, the delicious perfume +of the hedge-rows, and the loud clear notes of the blackbird +resounding from the bosky dells in the lordly plantations skirting the +road, succeeded in restoring my animal spirits. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing could exceed the tranquillity of the lovely evening. George +often checked his horse and broke out into enthusiastic exclamations +of delight whilst pointing out to me the leading features in the +beautiful country through which we were travelling. +</p> + +<p> +"Where are your gloomy forebodings now, Geoffrey?" said he. +</p> + +<p> +"This glorious scene has well-nigh banished them," I replied. "Nature +has always such an exhilarating effect upon my mind that I can hardly +feel miserable while the sun shines." +</p> + +<p> +George turned towards me his kindling eyes and animated countenance. +</p> + +<p> +"Geoffrey, I have not felt so happy as I do this evening, since I was +a little, gay, light-hearted boy. I could sing aloud in the joyousness +of hope and pleasing anticipation. In this respect my feelings during +the day have been quite the opposite of yours. I reproach myself for +not being able to sympathize in your nervously depressed state of +mind." +</p> + +<p> +"Your being sad, George, would not increase my cheerfulness. The quiet +serenity of the hour has operated upon me like a healing balm. I can +smile at my superstitious fears, now that the dark cloud is clearing +from my mind." +</p> + +<p> +Thus we rode on, chatting with the familiarity of long-tried +friendship, discussing our past trials, present feelings, and future +prospects, until the moon rose brightly on our path; and we pushed our +horses to a quicker pace, in order to reach the city before midnight. +</p> + +<p> +The road we were travelling had been cut through a steep hill. The +banks on either side were very high, and crowned with plantations of +pine and fir, which cast into deep shadow the space between. The hill +was terminated by a large deep gravel pit, through the centre of which +our path lay; and the opposite rise of the hill, which was destitute +of trees, lay gleaming brightly in the moonshine. +</p> + +<p> +As we gained the wood-crowned height, we perceived a horseman slowly +riding down the steep before us. His figure was so blended with the +dark shadows of the descending road, that the clicking of his horse's +hoofs, and the moving mass of deeper shade alone proclaimed his +proximity. +</p> + +<p> +"This is a gloomy spot, George. I wish we were fairly out of it." +</p> + +<p> +"Afraid, Geoffrey—and two to one?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, not exactly afraid; but this spot would be lonely at noonday. +Look—look! George, what makes that man so suddenly check his horse as +he gains the centre of the pit and emerges into the moonlight?" +</p> + +<p> +"Silence!" cried George. "That was the report of a pistol. Follow me!" +</p> + +<p> +We spurred our horses to full speed and galloped down the hill. +</p> + +<p> +The robbers, if indeed any were near, had disappeared, and we found +the man whom we had previously observed, rolling on the ground in +great agony, and weltering in blood. +</p> + +<p> +Dismounting from our horses, we ran immediately to his assistance. He +raised his head as we approached, and said in a low hollow voice, "I +am shot—I know the rascal—he cannot escape. Raise my head, I feel +choking—a little higher. The wound may not be mortal, I may live to +be revenged upon him yet." +</p> + +<p> +The sound of that voice—the sight of those well-known features, +rendered me powerless. I stood mute and motionless, staring upon the +writhing and crushed wretch before me, unable to render him the least +assistance. +</p> + +<p> +It was my uncle who lay bleeding there, slain by some unknown hand. A +horrible thought flashed through my brain; a ghastly sickness came +over me and I stifled the unnatural supposition. +</p> + +<p> +In the meanwhile Harrison had succeeded in raising Mr. Moncton into a +sitting posture, and had partly ascertained the nature of his wound. +Whilst thus employed, the moon shone full upon his face, and my uncle, +uttering a cry of terror, fell prostrate on the ground, whilst the +blood gushed in a dark stream from his wounded shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +"Geoffrey," exclaimed George, beckoning me to come to him, "don't +stand shaking there like a person in an ague fit. Something must be +done, and that immediately, or your uncle will die on the road. Mount +the high bank, and see if you can discover any dwelling nigh at hand, +to which he can be conveyed." +</p> + +<p> +His voice broke the horrid trance in which my senses were bound. I +sprang up the steep side of the gravel pit, and saw before me a marshy +meadow, and not far from the road, a light glimmered from a cabin +window. It was a wretched-looking place, but the only habitation in +sight, nearer than the village, whose church spire, about two miles +distant, glimmered in the moonbeams. Turning our horses loose to graze +in the meadow, we lifted a gate from the hinges, and placing the now +insensible man upon this rough litter, which we covered with our +travelling-cloaks, we succeeded with much difficulty, and after a +considerable lapse of time, in reaching the miserable hovel. +</p> + +<p> +On the approach of footsteps, the persons within extinguished the +light, and for some time we continued rapping at the door without +receiving any answer. +</p> + +<p> +I soon lost all patience, and began to hallo and shout in the hope of +provoking attention. +</p> + +<p> +Another long pause. +</p> + +<p> +"Open the door," cried I, "a man has been shot on the road: he will +die without assistance." +</p> + +<p> +A window in the thatch slowly unclosed, and a hoarse female voice +croaked forth in reply: "What concern is that of mine? Who are you who +disturb honest folk at this hour of the night with your drunken +clamours? My house is my castle. Begone, I tell you! I will not come +down to let you in." +</p> + +<p> +"Dinah North," said Harrison, solemnly, "I have a message for you, +which you dare not gainsay—I command you to unbar the door and +receive us instantly." +</p> + +<p> +This speech was answered by a wild shrill cry, more resembling the +howl of a tortured dog than any human sound. I felt the blood freeze +in my veins. Harrison whispered in my ear: "She will obey my summons, +which she believes not one of earth. Stay with your uncle, while I +ride forward to the village to procure medical aid, and make a +deposition before the magistrate of what has occurred. Don't let the +fiend know that I am alive. It is of the utmost importance to us all, +that she should still believe me dead." +</p> + +<p> +I tried to detain him, not much liking my present position; but he had +vanished, and shortly after I heard the clatter of his horse's hoofs +galloping at full speed towards the town. +</p> + +<p> +What a fearful termination of my gloomy presentiments, thought I, as I +looked down at the livid face and prostrate form of Robert Moncton. +</p> + +<p> +"Where will this frightful scene end?" I exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +The gleam of a light flashed across the broken casement; the next +moment Dinah North stood before me. +</p> + +<p> +"Geoffrey Moncton, is this you?" There was another voice that spoke to +me—a voice from the grave. "Where is your companion?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am alone with the dead," said I, pointing to the body. "Look +there!" +</p> + +<p> +She held up the light and bent over that insensible bleeding mass, and +looked long, and I thought triumphantly, at the ghastly face of the +accomplice in all her crimes. Then turning her hollow eyes on me, she +said calmly: +</p> + +<p> +"Did you murder him?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, thank God! I am guiltless of his blood; but he seems to know the +hand that dealt the blow." +</p> + +<p> +"Ha, ha!" shrieked the hag, "my dream was true—my horrible dream. +Even so, last night, I saw Robert Moncton weltering in his blood, and +my poor Alice was wiping the death-damps from his brow; and I saw +more—more, but it was a sight for the damned—a sight which cannot be +repeated to mortal ears. Yes, Robert Moncton, it is all up with you; +we have sinned together and must both drink of that fiery cup. I know +the worst now." +</p> + +<p> +"Hush! he moves—he still lives. He may yet recover. Let us carry him +into the house." +</p> + +<p> +"He has troubled the earth and your father's house long enough, +Geoffrey Moncton," said the strange woman, in a softened, and I +thought, melancholy tone. "It is time that both he and I received the +reward of our misdeeds." +</p> + +<p> +She assisted me to carry the body into the house, and stripping off +the clothes, we laid it upon a low flock bed, which occupied one +corner of the miserable apartment, over which she threw a coarse +woollen coverlid. +</p> + +<p> +She then examined the wound with a critical eye, and after washing it +with brandy she said that the ball could be extracted, and she thought +that the wound was not mortal and might be cured. +</p> + +<p> +Tearing his neckcloth into bandages, she succeeded in staunching the +blood, and diluting some of the brandy with water, she washed the face +of the wounded man, and forced a few spoonfuls down his throat. +Drawing a long, deep sigh, Robert Moncton unclosed his eyes. For some +minutes, they rested unconsciously upon us. Recollection slowly +returned, and recoiling from the touch of that abhorrent woman he +closed them again and groaned heavily. +</p> + +<p> +"We have met, Robert, in an evil hour. The friendship of the wicked +brings no comfort in the hour of death or in the day of judgment." +</p> + +<p> +"Avaunt witch! The sight of your hideous face is worse than the pangs +of death. Death," he repeated slowly—"I am not near death—I will not +die—I cannot die." +</p> + +<p> +"You dare not!" said Dinah, in a low, malignant whisper. "Is this +cowardly dastard, the proud, wealthy Robert Moncton, who thought to +build up his house by murder and treachery? Methinks this is a noble +apartment and a fitting couch for the body of Sir Robert Moncton to +lie in state." +</p> + +<p> +"Mocking fiend! what pleasure can you find in my misery?" +</p> + +<p> +"Much, much—oh, how much! It is not fair that I should bear the +tortures of the damned alone. Since the death of the only thing I ever +loved I have had strange thoughts and terrible visions; restless, +burning nights and fearful days. But I cannot repent or wish undone +that which is done. I can neither weep nor pray; I can only +curse—bitterly curse thee and thine! I rejoice to see this hour—to +know that before I depart to your Master and mine, the vengeance of my +soul will be satisfied." +</p> + +<p> +"Geoffrey, I implore you to drive that beldame from the room. The +sight of her hideous face and her ominous croaking will drive me mad." +</p> + +<p> +"Uncle, do not exhaust your strength by answering her. She is not in +her right senses. In a few minutes my friend will return with surgical +aid, and we will get you removed to more comfortable lodgings in the +village." +</p> + +<p> +"Do not deceive yourselves," returned Dinah: "from the bed on which he +now lies, the robber and murderer will never rise again. As he has +sown so must he reap. He deserves small kindness at your hands, +Geoffrey Moncton. You should rather rejoice that the sting of the +serpent is drawn, and that he can hurt you and yours no more." +</p> + +<p> +"Alas!" returned I, taking the hand of the wretched sufferer in mine, +"how much rather would I see him turn from his evil deeds and live!" +</p> + +<p> +"God bless you! Geoffrey," sobbed forth my miserable uncle, bursting +into tears: perhaps the first he ever shed in his life. "Deeply have I +sinned against you, noble, generous boy. Can you forgive me for my +past cruelty?" +</p> + +<p> +"I can—I do; and should it please God to restore you to health, I +will prove the truth of what I say by deeds, not words." +</p> + +<p> +"Do not look so like your father, Geoffrey. His soul speaks to me +through your eyes. Your kindness heaps coals of fire upon my head. It +would give me less torture to hear you curse than pray for me." +</p> + +<p> +"Pray for yourself, uncle. I have never attended to these things as I +ought to have done. I am punished now, when I have no word of comfort +or instruction for you." +</p> + +<p> +"Pray!" and he drew a long sigh. "My mother died when Ned and I were +boys. We soon forgot the prayers she taught us. My father's God was +Mammon. He taught me early to worship at the same shrine. No, +Geoffrey, no: it is too late to pray. I feel—I know that I am lost. I +have no part or lot in the Saviour—no love for God, in whom I never +believed until this fatal hour. +</p> + +<p> +"I have injured you, Geoffrey, and am willing to make all the +reparation in my power by restoring to you those rights which I have +laboured so hard to set aside." +</p> + +<p> +"Spare yourself, uncle, the painful relation. Let no thought on that +score divert your mind from making its peace with God. Walters has +returned, and the documents necessary to prove my legitimacy are in +Sir Alexander's hands." +</p> + +<p> +"Walters returned!" shrieked my uncle. "Both heaven and hell conspire +against me. What a tale can he unfold." +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, and what a sequel can I add to it," said Dinah, rising from her +seat, and standing before him like one of the avenging furies. "Listen +to me, Geoffrey Moncton, for it shall yet be told." +</p> + +<p> +"Spare me! cruel woman, in mercy spare me. Is not your malice +sufficiently gratified to see me humbled to the dust?" +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! if your villainy had proved successful, and you were revelling in +wealth and splendour, instead of grovelling there beneath the lash of +an awakened conscience, where would be your repentance? What would +<i>then</i> become of Geoffrey Moncton's claims to legitimacy? I trow +he would remain a bastard to the end of his days." +</p> + +<p> +"Geoffrey, for God's sake bid that woman hold her venomous tongue. I +feel faint and sick with her upbraidings." +</p> + +<p> +"He is fainting," said I, turning to Dinah. "Allow him to die in +peace." +</p> + +<p> +"You are a fool to feel the least trouble about him," said Dinah. +"There, he is again insensible; our efforts to bring him to his senses +will only make matters worse. Listen to me, Geoffrey Moncton, I have a +burden on my conscience I would fain remove, and which it is necessary +that you should know. Remember what I told you when we last met. That +the next time we saw each other, my secret and yours would be of equal +value." +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +<a name="XII">CHAPTER XII.</a> +</p> + +<p class="head"> +DINAH'S CONFESSION. +</p> + + +<p> +"It is an ill wind, they say, Geoffrey Moncton, which blows no good to +any one. Had the son of Sir Alexander Moncton lived, you would have +retained your original insignificance. It is from my guilt that you +derive a clear title to the lands and honours which by death he lost." +</p> + +<p> +I know not why, but as she said this, a cold chill crept through me. I +almost wished that she would leave the terrible tale she had to tell +untold. I felt that whatever its import might be, that it boded me no +good. My situation was intensely exciting, and made me alive to the +most superstitious impressions. It was altogether the most important +epoch in my life. +</p> + +<p> +Seated at the foot of that miserable bed, the ghastly face of the +wounded man, just revealed by the sickly light of a miserable candle, +looked stark, rigid, and ghost-like, to all outward appearance, +already dead. And that horrible hag, with her witch-like face, with +its grim smile, standing between me and the clear beams of the moon, +which bathed in a silvery light the floor of that squalid room, and +threw fantastic arabesques over the time-stained walls, glanced upon +me like some foul visitant from the infernal abyss. +</p> + +<p> +The hour was solemn midnight, when the dead are said to awake in their +graves, and wander forth until the second crowing of the bird of dawn. +I felt its mysterious influence steal over my senses, and rob me of my +usual courage, and I leant forward, to shut out the ghastly scene, and +covered my face with my hands. +</p> + +<p> +Every word which Dinah uttered fell upon my ear with terrible +distinctness, as she continued her revelations of the past. +</p> + +<p> +"My daughter, Rachel, by some strange fatality had won the regard of +her delicate rival, Lady Moncton, who seemed to feel a perverse +pleasure in loading her with favours. Whether she knew of the +attachment which had existed between her and Sir Alexander is a +secret. Perhaps she did not, and was only struck with the beauty and +elegance of the huntsman's wife, which was certainly very unusual in a +person of her humble parentage. Be that as it may, she deemed her +worthy of the highest trust which one woman, can repose in +another—the charge of her infant son, and that son the heir of a vast +estate. +</p> + +<p> +"Rachel was not insensible to the magnitude of the confidence reposed +in her; and for the first six months of the infant's life, she +performed her duty conscientiously, and bestowed upon her nurse-child +the most devoted care. +</p> + +<p> +"Robert Moncton came to the Hall at this time to receive the rents of +the estate for Sir Alexander—for he was his man of business. He saw +the child, and perceived that it was a poor, fragile, puling thing; +the thought entered his wicked heart, that if this weakly scion of the +old family tree were removed, his son would be heir to the title and +lands of Moncton. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know what argument he made use of to win Rachel to his +purpose. I was living with him at the time as his housekeeper; for the +wife he had married was a poor, feeble-minded creature—the mere +puppet of his imperious will, and a very indifferent manager. But she +loved him, and at that period he was a very handsome man, and had the +art of hiding his tyrannical temper, by assuming before strangers a +pleasing, dignified manner, which imposed on every person who was not +acquainted with the secrets of the domestic prison-house. +</p> + +<p> +"Rachel consented to make away with the child; but on the very night +she had set apart for the perpetration of the deed, God smote her own +lovely boy upon the breast, and the tears of the distracted mother +awoke in her mind a consciousness of the terrible sin she had +premeditated. +</p> + +<p> +"To hearts like Robert Moncton's and mine this circumstance would not +have deterred us from our purpose; but Rachel was not like us, +hardened in guilt or bad, and unknown to us both she reared the young +heir of Moncton as her own. +</p> + +<p> +"It was strange that neither of us suspected the fact. +</p> + +<p> +"I might have known, from the natural antipathy I felt for the child, +that he was not of my flesh and blood; but God hid it from me, till +Rachel informed me on her death-bed of the deception she had +practised. +</p> + +<p> +"It was an important secret, and I determined to make use of it to +extort money from Robert Moncton, when the child should be old enough +to attract his attention. I owed him a long grudge, and this gave me +power to render him restless and miserable. Thus I suffered George +Moncton to live, to obtain a two-fold object—the gratification of +Avarice and Revenge. +</p> + +<p> +"In spite of neglect and harsh treatment, which were inseparable from +the deep-rooted hatred I bore him on his parents' account, the hand of +Heaven was extended over the injured child. He out-grew the feeble +delicacy of his infancy, and when he had attained his fourth year, was +a beautiful and intelligent boy. +</p> + +<p> +"His father, as if compelled by powerful natural instinct, lavished +upon him the most abundant marks of favour. Lady Moncton's love was +that of a doting mother, which increased up to the period of her +death. +</p> + +<p> +"The death of Lady Moncton, and that of Roger Mornington, followed +quickly upon each other, and all my old hopes revived, when Sir +Alexander renewed his attentions to my daughter. But vain are the +expectations of the wicked. Bitter experience has taught me (though it +took me a long life to learn that lesson) that man cannot contend with +God; and my beautiful Rachel died in her prime, just when my fondest +expectations seemed on the point of realization. +</p> + +<p> +"Years fled on—years of burning disappointment and ungratified +passion. The little girl Rachel left to my care was handsome, clever +and affectionate, and I loved her with a fierce love, such as I never +felt before for anything of earth—and she loved me—a creature from +whose corrupted nature, all living things seemed to start with +abhorrence. I watched narrowly the young heir of Moncton, who led that +smiling rose-bud by the hand, and loved her too, but not as I could +have wished him to love her. +</p> + +<p> +"Had I seen the least hope of his ever forming an attachment for his +beautiful playmate, how different would have been my conduct towards +him! +</p> + +<p> +"Alice, was early made acquainted with the secret of his birth, and +was encouraged by me, to use every innocent blandishment towards him, +and even to hint that he was not her brother, in order to awaken a +tenderer passion in his breast. +</p> + +<p> +"His heart remained as cold as ice. His affections for Alice never +exceeded the obligations of nature, due to her as his sister. They +were not formed for each other and, again disappointed in my ambitious +hopes, I vowed his destruction. At this time Sir Alexander sent him to +school at York, and the man who lies grovelling on that bed, was made +acquainted with his existence." +</p> + +<p> +A heavy groan from Robert Moncton interrupted for a few minutes the +old woman's narrative. She rose from her seat, took the lamp from the +table, and bending over the sorry couch, regarded the rigid marble +features of my uncle, with the same keen scrutiny that she had looked +upon me in the garret of the old house in Hatton Garden. +</p> + +<p> +"It was but a passing pang," said she, resuming her seat. "His ear is +closed to all intelligible sounds." +</p> + +<p> +I thought otherwise, but after rocking herself to and fro on her seat +for a short space, she again fixed upon me her dark, searching, fiery +eyes, and resumed her tale:— +</p> + +<p> +"Robert Moncton bore the intelligence with more temper than I +expected. Nor did he then propose any act of open violence towards the +innocent object of our mutual hatred, but determined to destroy him in +a more deliberate and less dangerous way. At that time I was not +myself eager for his death, for my poor deluded, lost Alice, had not +then formed the ill-fated attachment to Theophilus Moncton, which +terminated in her broken heart and early grave—and which, in fact, +has proved the destruction of all, and rendered the house of the +destroyer as desolate as my own. +</p> + +<p> +"At first I could not believe that the attachment of my poor girl to +Theophilus was sincere, but when I was at length convinced that both +were in earnest, my long withered hopes revived. I saw her in idea, +already mistress of the Hall, and often in private called her Lady +Moncton. +</p> + +<p> +"I despised the surly wretch, whom unfortunately she only loved too +well, and looked upon his union with my grandchild as a necessary +evil, through which she could alone reach the summit of my ambitious +wishes. +</p> + +<p> +"In the meanwhile, Alice played her cards so well that she and her +lover were privately married—she binding herself by a solemn promise, +not to divulge the secret, even to me, until a fitting opportunity. +After a few months, her situation attracted my attention; and I +accused her of having been betrayed by her fashionable paramour. +</p> + +<p> +"She denied the charge—was obstinate and violent, and much bitter +language passed between us. Just at this period, young Mornington +returned to us, a ruined man. He fell sick, and both Alice and myself +hoped that his disease would terminate fatally. In this we were +disappointed. He slowly and surely recovered in spite of our coldness +and neglect. +</p> + +<p> +"Before he was able to leave his bed, Robert Moncton, who had +discovered his victim's retreat, paid us a visit. Me, he cajoled, by +promising to give his consent to his son's marriage with Alice, but +only on condition of our uniting to rid him for ever of the man who +stood between him and the long-coveted estates and title of Moncton. +I, for my part, was easily entreated, for our interests were too +closely united in his destruction, for me to raise any objections. +</p> + +<p> +"Alice, however, was a novice in crime, and she resisted his arguments +with many tears, and it was not until he threatened to disinherit her +husband, if he ever dared to speak to her again, that she reluctantly +consented to administer the fatal draught which Robert prepared with +his own hands." +</p> + +<p> +There was a long pause; I thought I heard the sound of horses' hoofs +in the distance. Dinah heard it too, and hastened to conclude her +narrative. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, George Moncton died in the bloom of life, the victim of +treachery from the very morning of his days. But the cry of the +innocent blood has gone up to the throne of God, and terrible +vengeance has pursued his murderers. +</p> + +<p> +"When I discovered that Alice was the lawful wife of Theophilus +Moncton, and that the child she carried, if it proved a son, would be +Sir Alexander's heir, I made a journey to London, to communicate the +fact to Robert Moncton, and to force him to acknowledge her publicly +as his daughter-in-law. +</p> + +<p> +"He would not believe me on my oath; and declared that it was only +another method to extort money. I produced the proofs. He vowed that +they were base forgeries, and tore the documents, trampling them under +his feet; and it was only when I threatened to expose the murder of +his cousin, that he condescended to listen to reason. +</p> + +<p> +"It was then for the first time I heard of your existence, and a new +and unforeseen enemy seemed to start up and defy me to my teeth. +</p> + +<p> +"Robert Moncton laughed at my fears, and told me how ingeniously he +had contrived to brand you with the stigma of illegitimacy. He could +not however lull my fears to rest, until I was satisfied that Walters +had really placed the stolen certificates in the iron chest in your +garret—and late as it was, we went to assure ourselves of the fact." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, how well I remember that dreadful visit," said I—"and the +horrible dream which preceded it." +</p> + +<p> +"You were awake, then?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—awake with my eyes shut—and heard all that passed." +</p> + +<p> +"A true Moncton," and she shook her palsied head. "The devil is in you +all. You know then, that our search was fruitless, and I returned to +Moncton with the conviction, that we were destined to be defeated in +our machinations. +</p> + +<p> +"Six months after these events, Alice gave birth to a son, and was +greatly cheered by the news, which reached her through one of the +servants at the Hall, that her husband had returned from Italy, and +was in London." +</p> + +<p> +"The rest of her melancholy history is known to me," said I. "It was +my arm that lifted her from the water when she attempted to destroy +herself. Oh, miserable and guilty woman, what have you gained by all +your deep-laid schemes of villainy? As to you, Dinah North, the gibbet +awaits you—and your prospects beyond the grave are more terrible +still." +</p> + +<p> +"Dinah North will never die beneath the gaze of an insolent mob," said +the old woman with a sullen laugh. "A few months ago, Geoffrey +Moncton, and I would have suffered the rack, before I would have +confessed to you aught that might render you a service, but the +kindness you showed to my unhappy grandchild, awoke in my breast a +feeling towards you foreign to my nature. I have been a terrible enemy +to your house. But you, at least, should regard me as a friend. Had +George Moncton lived, what would become of your claims to rank and +fortune?" +</p> + +<p> +"Dinah, he does live!" and the conviction that I was penniless, a poor +dependent upon a noble house, instead of being the expectant heir, +pressed at that moment painfully on my heart. "See," I continued, as +the door opened, and George attended by several persons entered the +house, "he is here to assert his lawful claims. The grave has given up +its dead." +</p> + +<p> +The same wild shriek which burst so frightfully on my ears, when +George first addressed the old woman, ran through the apartment. +</p> + +<p> +"Constables, do your duty," said George. "Instantly secure that +woman." +</p> + +<p> +As he spoke, the light was suddenly extinguished, and we were left in +darkness. Before the hurry and bustle of rekindling it was over, Dinah +North had disappeared, and all search after her proved fruitless. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +<a name="XIII">CHAPTER XIII.</a> +</p> + +<p class="head"> +RETRIBUTIVE JUSTICE. +</p> + + +<p> +Robert Moncton had lain in a stupor for the last hour. The surgeon +whom George had brought with him from the village, after carefully +examining the wound, to my surprise, declared that it was mortal, and +that the sufferer could not be removed, as his life must terminate in +a few hours. During the extraction of the bullet and the dressing of +the wound, Robert Moncton recovered his senses and self-possession, +and heard his doom with a glassy gaze of fixed despair. Then, with a +deep sigh, he asked if a lawyer were present, as he wished to make his +will, and set his affairs in order before he died. +</p> + +<p> +George had brought with him a professional gentleman, the clergyman, +and one of the chief magistrates in the village. He now introduced to +his notice the Rev. Mr. Chapman, and Mr. Blake the solicitor. +</p> + +<p> +"When I require your offices," he said, addressing the former +gentleman, "I will send for you. Such comfort as you can give in the +last hour, will not atone for the sins of a long life. This is one of +the fallacies to which men cling when they can no longer help +themselves. They will, however, find it a broken reed when called upon +to pass through the dark valley. +</p> + +<p> +"With you, sir," shaking hands with Mr. Blake, "my business lies. +Clear the room till this matter is settled: I wish us to be alone." +</p> + +<p> +The clergyman, finding that he would not be listened to, mounted his +horse and rode away. George and I gladly availed ourselves of the +opportunity of leaving for a while the gloomy chamber of death, and +taking a turn in the fresh air. We wandered forth into the clear +night; the blessed and benignant aspect of nature, forming, as it ever +does, a solemn, holy contrast with the turbulent, restless spirit of +man. Nature has her storms and awful convulsions, but the fruits are +fertility, abundance, rest. The fruits of our malignant passions—sin, +disease, mental and physical death. +</p> + +<p> +My blighted prospects, in spite of all my boasted disinterestedness, +weighed heavily on my heart. I tried to rejoice in my friend's good +fortune, but human nature with all its sins and weaknesses prevailed. +I was not then a Christian, and could scarcely be expected to prefer +the good of my neighbour to my own. +</p> + +<p> +Bowed down and humbled by the consciousness of all I had lost, I +should had I been alone have shamed my manhood, and found relief in +tears. +</p> + +<p> +"Dear Geoffrey, why so silent?" said George, wringing my hand with his +usual warmth: "Have you no word for your friend? This night has been +one of severe trial. God knows how deeply I sympathize in your +feelings! But cheer up, my dear fellow; better and brighter moments +are at hand." +</p> + +<p> +"No, no, not for me," returned I, almost choking. "I am one of the +unlucky ones; no good can ever happen to me. My hopes are blighted for +ever. It is only you, George Moncton, who, in this dark hour, have +reason to rejoice." +</p> + +<p> +He stopped and grasped my arm. "What do you mean, Geoffrey, when you +call me by that name?" +</p> + +<p> +"That it belongs to you." +</p> + +<p> +"To me! Has Dinah made any confession?" +</p> + +<p> +"She has. Have a little patience, George, till I can collect my +scattered thoughts, and tell you all." +</p> + +<p> +I then communicated to him the conversation that had passed between +Dinah and myself, though my voice often trembled with emotion, and I +could scarcely repress my tears. +</p> + +<p> +He heard me silently to the end; then convulsively grasping my hands, +was completely overcome by his feelings, and we wept together. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, Geoffrey, my cousin, my more than brother and friend," he said at +last, "how gladly would I confer upon you, if it would increase your +comfort and happiness, the envied wealth which has been the fruitful +cause of such revolting crimes! +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, mother!" continued he, looking up to the calm heavens, and +raising his hands in a sort of ecstasy, "dear, sainted, angel mother, +whom as a child I recognized and loved, it is only on your account +that I rejoice—yes, with joy unspeakable, that I am indeed your +son—that the boy you so loved and fondly cherished, was the child you +sought in heaven, and wept on earth as lost. And that fine, generous, +noble-hearted old man—how proud shall I feel to call him father, and +recall all his acts of kindness to me when a nameless orphan boy. And +Margaretta, my gentle sister, my best and earliest friend. Forgive me, +dear Geoffrey, if thoughts like these render me happy in spite of +myself. I only wish that you could participate in the fullness of my +joy." +</p> + +<p> +"I will—I do!" I exclaimed, ashamed of my past regrets. "The evil +spirit of envy, George, cast a dark shadow over the sunshine of my +heart. This will soon yield to better feelings. You know me to be a +faulty creature of old, and must pity and excuse my weakness." +</p> + +<p> +Unconsciously we had strolled to the top of a wild, heathery common, +which overlooked the marshy meadows below, and was covered with dwarf +oaks and elder-bushes. +</p> + +<p> +Though close upon day-break, the moon was still bright, and I thought +I discerned something which resembled the sharp outline of a human +figure, suspended from the lower branch of a gnarled and leafless +tree, the long hair and garments fluttering loosely in the wind. With +silent horror I pointed it out to my companion. We both ran forward +and soon reached the spot. Here, between us and the full, broad light +of the moon, hung the skeleton-like figure of Dinah North, her hideous +countenance rendered doubly so by the nature of her death! +</p> + +<p> +Her long grey hair streamed back from her narrow contracted brow; her +eyes wide open and staring, caught a gleam from the moon that +heightened the malignant expression which had made them terrible to +the beholder while in life. +</p> + +<p> +We neither spoke, but looked at each other with eyes full of horror. +</p> + +<p> +George sprang up the tree and cut down the body, which fell at my feet +with a dull, heavy sound. +</p> + +<p> +"She has but anticipated her fate, Geoffrey. Surely the hand of God is +here." +</p> + +<p> +"Miserable woman!" said I, as I turned with a shudder from the livid +corpse—"is this the end of all your ambitious hopes? Your life a +tissue of revolting crimes—your end despair!" +</p> + +<p> +We hurried back to the cottage to give the alarm, and found Robert +Moncton awake and in his senses, though evidently sinking fast. "Dinah +North dead!" he said, "and by her own voluntary act. This is +retributive justice. She has been my evil genius on earth, and has +gone before me to our appointed place. Geoffrey Moncton, I have a few +words to say to you before I follow on her track. +</p> + +<p> +"I have injured you during my life. I have, however, done you justice +now. I have made you my heir; the sole inheritor of the large fortune +I have bartered my soul to realize." +</p> + +<p> +"But, uncle, you have a son." +</p> + +<p> +His face grew dark as night. +</p> + +<p> +"None that I acknowledge as such. And mark me, Geoffrey," and he +compressed his lips firmly and grasped my hand tightly as he spoke: "I +have left you this property on one condition, that you never bequeath +or share one copper of it with that rascal Theophilus Moncton, for in +such case it will benefit neither party, but will revert to your +cousin, Margaretta Moncton. Do you hear?" and he shook me vehemently. +</p> + +<p> +"And what will become of Theophilus?" +</p> + +<p> +He laughed bitterly. "He will yet meet with his deserts," he +exclaimed. "What I have done may seem harsh to you, Geoffrey, but it +is strictly just. My reasons for so doing may puzzle the world and +astonish professional men, but it is a secret which never will be +known until I meet the human monster, who calls himself my son, at the +eternal bar. And may the curse of the great Judge of all flesh, and my +curse, cleave to him for ever!" +</p> + +<p> +I shrank back from him with feelings of disgust and horror, which I +took no pains to conceal; but it was unnoticed by him. The hand +relaxed its rigid grasp, the large icy eyes lost the glittering +brilliancy which had marked them through life, the jaw fell, and the +soul of Robert Moncton passed forth from those open portals to its +drear and dread account. +</p> + +<p> +"He is dead," said the lawyer. +</p> + +<p> +I drew a long sigh. +</p> + +<p> +"How did he come to his death, young gentleman?" +</p> + +<p> +"He was shot from behind the hedge, as he rode through the pit at the +end of the long plantation. He said, when we first found him, that he +knew the person who shot him." +</p> + +<p> +"He admitted the same thing to me, but would not mention the name of +the assassin. I have my own suspicions." +</p> + +<p> +I had mine, but I did not wish to hint at the probability of a fact +that Robert Moncton had purposely, I have no doubt, left unrevealed. +The cause of his death, and the hand which perpetrated the deed have +never been discovered, but will remain open to conjecture as long as +those live who feel the least interest in the subject. It was +supposed, that important information could be obtained from his son, +which might throw some light upon the mystery, but he had disappeared, +and no trace of his whereabouts, could be discovered. +</p> + +<p> +We were detained for several days at the village whilst the coroner's +inquest sat on the bodies, and we had made a statement before the +proper authorities of all we knew about this mysterious affair. +</p> + +<p> +Before three days were at an end, the public journals were filled with +accounts of the awful tragedy which had occurred at the village of +——, in Yorkshire; and the great talents and moral worth of the +murdered lawyer were spoken of in terms of the highest praise, which +certainly astonished his relations, and would have astonished himself. +The only stain on his character, it was stated, was the extraordinary +manner in which he had disinherited his only son, in order to place a +<i>poor relation</i> who had been brought up in his house, in his +shoes. It was evident to all, the part this domestic sneak must have +acted in the dreadful tragedy to ensure the property to himself. +</p> + +<p> +Hints of a darker nature were thrown out, which deeply wounded my +sensitive pride, and which drew a reply from Mr. Blake, who stated, +that Mr. Moncton told him that the murderer was well known to him, but +he never would reveal to any one who or what he was; that he left +young Geoffrey Moncton and George at the inn, and they did not come up +until after he was shot. That the assassin did not attempt to conceal +himself, but exchanged words with him and met him face to face. +</p> + +<p> +I had just taken up my pen to add my testimony to that of the worthy +Mr. Blake, when the door of the room suddenly opened, and Sir +Alexander and his lovely daughter, banished all other objects from my +brain. +</p> + +<p> +What an overflowing of eyes and hearts succeeded that unexpected +meeting. How I envied George the hearty embrace with which the fine +old man received his newly recovered son. The tearful joy which beamed +in the dark eloquent eyes of his delighted sister as she flung herself +with unrestrained freedom into the arms of that long-cherished friend, +and now beloved brother. +</p> + +<p> +My welcome was not wanting either: Sir Alexander received me as +another son, and my own, my lovely Madge as something dearer to her +than even a brother. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +<a name="XIV">CHAPTER XIV.</a> +</p> + +<p class="head"> +THE DOUBLE BRIDAL. +</p> + + +<p> +The first excitement of our meeting over, I was painfully struck with +the great alteration that the absence of a few weeks had made in the +face of Margaret. +</p> + +<p> +Her eyes, always beautiful, gleamed with an unnatural brilliancy; and +her pure, pale complexion, at times was flushed with a hectic glow, +which, contrasting with the dazzling white teeth and jet-black hair, +gave a fearful beauty to her charming face. +</p> + +<p> +I took her hand in mine. It burned with fever. +</p> + +<p> +"Dear Margaret, are you ill?" +</p> + +<p> +She raised her eyes to mine, swimming in tears. +</p> + +<p> +"Not ill, Geoffrey; only a little weak." +</p> + +<p> +"No wonder, when you are in such a state of emaciation. You ought not +to have let the death of Alice bring you so low as this." +</p> + +<p> +"Your absence and long silence, dear Geoffrey, have had more to do +with my poor health than the death of my unfortunate friend." +</p> + +<p> +"How so, dearest?" +</p> + +<p> +"Torturing anxiety, sleepless nights, and days of weeping, would +produce this change in stronger frames than mine: But that is all +past. I am quite well and happy now, and Margaret will soon be herself +again." +</p> + +<p> +This was accompanied by such a sad, moonlight smile, that it only +served to increase my fears. I inquired earnestly if her father had +consulted a medical man. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, yes—a dozen, at least." +</p> + +<p> +"And what opinion did they give?" +</p> + +<p> +"They told the plain truth—said that my illness was produced by +mental excitement—that change of air and scene would soon bring me +round." +</p> + +<p> +I felt that I looked grave and sad. She put her arm round my shoulder, +and whispered in my ear: +</p> + +<p> +"You are mine, Geoffrey, and I shall soon get well in the society of +those I love; so banish that gloomy frown, and try to participate in +the general joy. I have procured an excellent flute for you, as a +little present. You shall play, and I will sing, and Kate Lee (of whom +I am no longer jealous) and George shall dance, and papa shall smoke +his cigar beneath our favourite old tree and enjoy the fun; and we +shall all be so happy." +</p> + +<p> +Thus did my poor, fading, white rose strive to divert my thoughts into +a brighter channel; and hope, ever attendant upon the young, cheated +me into the belief that all would yet be well. +</p> + +<p> +Instead of returning to Moncton Park, George proposed our accompanying +him to Elm Grove. Sir Alexander thought the change would be beneficial +to Margaretta, and we joyfully accepted his proposal. I exchanged my +horse with Sir Alexander, and took his place by the side of Madge in +the open carriage. The good Baronet rode with his son, who had a +thousand revelations of his past life to communicate to his delighted +father. +</p> + +<p> +Madge and I were not without our histories and confessions; and long +before we entered the avenue that led to Elm Grove, the dear girl had +promised to become my wife, when returning health should remove the +last barrier to our union. +</p> + +<p> +Our reception at Elm Grove was such as might have been expected from +its amiable possessors. +</p> + +<p> +Accounts of Robert Moncton's and Dinah North's death had travelled +there before us, and formed for the first few days the theme of +general discussion. My kind friend, Mrs. Hepburn, warmly congratulated +me on my accession of fortune, and Dan Simpson was almost beside +himself with joy. Though I could no longer regard myself as Sir +Alexander's successor, I found myself not a whit inferior in wealth +and importance. +</p> + +<p> +Sir Alexander received my proposal for his daughter with unfeigned +satisfaction. He wrung my hand with hearty good-will. "Two sons, my +dear Geoffrey. God has given me two sons in return for depriving me of +one of them for so many years. Faith, my dear boy, I hardly know which +is dearest of you to the old man. Madge, however, has found out which +of the twain she loves best. I shall resign the Hall to George and his +pretty bride, and will come and live with my dear girl and my adopted +son—hey Madge! will you give the old man an easy place by your +fireside?" +</p> + +<p> +Margaret threw herself into his extended arms, parted the white wavy +locks from his high forehead, and devoutly kissed it. +</p> + +<p> +Thus did we suffer hope to weave bright garlands for the future, +without reflecting how soon the freshest flowers of life are withered +and scattered in the dust. +</p> + +<p> +Cheered by the society and sympathy of her new friends, with a devoted +lover ever at her side, Margaretta regained much of her former health +and cheerfulness. +</p> + +<p> +Hand in hand we roamed among the Derby hills, and visited every +romantic spot in the neighbourhood, not forgetting the old parsonage +where my mother was born, the spot where my good old grandfather was +buried, the little inn over which Mrs. Archer presided, who was +infinitely delighted with seeing me again, and hearing me introduce +her lovely boy to Margaretta's especial notice. +</p> + +<p> +Kate Lee did the honours of the house with the most bewitching grace, +and she and Margaretta formed the most lively attachment to each +other. +</p> + +<p> +"Is she not beautiful, Geoffrey?" said Margaretta, as we sat together +on the lawn beneath the shade of a large ash; and she watched her +friend as she bounded past us down the grassy slope, to join Sir +Alexander and his son in their evening walk. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, very beautiful, Madge." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't you envy George the possession of such a charming wife?" +</p> + +<p> +"I love George and admire his Kate, but I would not exchange my little +fairy," and I pressed her fondly to my heart, "for his stately queen." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, flatterer! how can I believe you, who would prefer the pale, +drooping snow-drop to the perfumed, glowing rose?" +</p> + +<p> +"Let George keep his rose, the peerless among many sweets, but give me +the pure solitary gem of early spring, which cheers with its modest +grace the parting frowns of envious winter." +</p> + +<p> +I pressed her small white hand with fervour to my lips and heart. The +meek head of the gentle girl sunk drooping on my bosom. The long black +lashes that veiled her matchless eyes were heavy with bright tears. +</p> + +<p> +"Why do you weep, sweet Madge?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am too happy. These are tears of joy: they relieve the fulness of +my heart. After suffering so much bitter grief it is a luxury to weep +in the arms of the beloved." +</p> + +<p> +How often have I recalled those words when weeping in madness on her +grave, and found no joy in grief—no peace in my distracted heart. +</p> + +<p> +The harvest had been gathered in, and the ripe autumnal fruits hung +heavily on the loaded trees when we returned to Moncton Park. The +first of October had been named for the celebration of our double +nuptials, and all was bustle and activity at the Hall, in making the +necessary preparations for the important event. Margaretta appeared to +take as much interest in the matrimonial arrangements as her lively +friend, Kate. +</p> + +<p> +Not a ribbon was selected or a dress purchased, but George and I were +called to give our opinion of its beauty or becomingness; whilst the +good old Baronet's whole time and attention were directed to the +improvements and decorations which he had planned in the interior of +the Hall. Thus all went merry as a marriage bell until the second week +in September, which was ushered in by heavy gales and frequent +showers. +</p> + +<p> +Often, when returning from our accustomed rides and walks, Margaret +would draw her shawl tightly round her, and clinging closely to my +arm, would complain that she was <i>cold</i>—<i>very cold</i>. +</p> + +<p> +One day in particular, when the deceitful beauty of the morning had +induced us to extend our ride a few miles farther than usual, we all +got drenched by a sudden shower of rain. The next morning my dear girl +complained of a pain in her chest, sudden chills and weariness of mind +and body. These symptoms were succeeded by a short, hacking cough, and +sudden flushings of the face, which greatly alarmed us all. Medical +advice was instantly called in, but Margaret's malady daily increased +and her strength rapidly declined. +</p> + +<p> +I dared not whisper to myself the fears which oppressed my heart, and +was almost afraid of asking Dr. Wilson the nature of her complaint. +</p> + +<p> +To my utter grief and despair he informed me that his patient was +beyond human aid—that a few weeks, at the farthest, would terminate +the existence of the gentlest and purest of human beings. +</p> + +<p> +"It would be cruel to deceive you, Mr. Moncton," said he, as he +announced the startling truth—for the dreadful communication had +quite unmanned me. "Let this comfort you in your affliction, that I +have anticipated this for years; that our dear patient has carried +about her the seeds of this fatal malady from infancy; that it is +better that she should thus fall in the budding season of youth, than +leave hereafter a family of children to bewail their irreparable loss. +I sorrow for her father and you, Mr. Geoffrey, more than for her. +Death has few terrors to a sincere Christian, and such from childhood +Margaret Moncton has been. A friend to the friendless, a sister of +mercy to the poor and destitute." +</p> + +<p> +Oh, reader! if you have ever known what it is to see your fondest +hopes annihilated at the very moment of their apparent fulfilment, you +can form some idea of my mental anguish whilst watching the decay of +that delicate flower. +</p> + +<p> +Margaret was now fully aware of her danger, a most uncommon +circumstance in the victims of that insidious disease, on whom Death +advances so softly that he always comes suddenly at last. She prepared +herself to meet the mighty conqueror with a cheerful submission to the +will of God, which surprised us all. +</p> + +<p> +One thing she earnestly entreated, that the marriage of Catherine and +George might not be postponed on account of her illness. +</p> + +<p> +"I not only wish to witness their happiness before I go hence, but to +share in it," she said to us, a few days before the one which had been +appointed for the ceremony, as we were all sitting round the sofa on +which she was reclining. +</p> + +<p> +"And you, dearest Geoffrey, must give me a lawful claim to the tender +care I receive from you. Though I can only be your wife in name, I +shall die happy in hearing you address me by that coveted +appellation." +</p> + +<p> +I could in reply only press her wasted form in my arms and bathe her +hands and face with my tears. How earnestly had I wished to call her +mine, though I lacked the courage to make the proposal so dear to my +peace. +</p> + +<p> +Oh, what a melancholy day was that to us all. Margaret's sweet face +alone wore a serene smile, as, supported by her father, she stood +beside me at the altar. +</p> + +<p> +How beautiful she looked in her white bridal dress. What a mockery was +the ceremony to my tortured heart, whilst fancy, busy with my grief, +converted those flowing garments into a snowy shroud. +</p> + +<p> +One little week after that melancholy event I again bent before that +altar, to partake of the last tokens of a Saviour's dying love; but I +knelt alone. The grave had closed over my bright, my beautiful, my +virgin bride, and my soul had vowed an eternal divorce from the +vanities and lusts of earth. +</p> + +<p> +Years have fled on in their silent and undeviating course. I am now an +old, grey-headed man. +</p> + +<p> +Sir Alexander Moncton has long been gathered to his fathers, and the +old Hall is filled by a race of healthy, noble-looking young people, +the children of Sir George Moncton and Catherine Lee. I, too, have a +Geoffrey and a Margaret, the children of my adoption; for a large +family Sir George willingly spared me these. +</p> + +<p> +For years I have resided at the Lodge, formerly the residence of Dinah +North, which I have converted into a pretty dwelling, surrounded by +shrubberies and flower-gardens. I love to linger near the scenes where +the happiest and saddest moments of my life were passed. +</p> + +<p> +Behold me now, a cheerful and contented old man, surrounded by dear +young faces, who lavish upon Uncle Geoffrey the redundant affections +of warm and guileless hearts. +</p> + +<p> +My wealth is the means of making many happy, of obviating the sorrows +of the sorrowful, and smoothing with necessary comforts the couch of +pain. When I first lost my beloved Margaret, I mourned as one without +hope; but it pleased God to hallow and bless my afflictions, and by +their instrumentality gently to lead me to a knowledge of the +truth—that simple and holy truth, which has set me free from the +chains of sin and the fear of death. +</p> + +<p> +In what a different light I view all these trials now. How sincerely I +can bless the munificent hand which wounds but to heal—punishes but +to reform; who has poured upon the darkness of my soul the light of +life, and exchanged the love of earth, which bound me grovelling in +the dust, for the love of Christ; sorrow for the loss of one dear +companion and friend, into compassion for the sorrows and sufferings +of the whole human race. +</p> + +<hr class="short"> + +<p> +A few words more, gentle reader, and we part for ever. These relate to +the fate of Theophilus Moncton, and fully illustrate the awful +text—"There is no peace," saith my God, "for the wicked;" and again, +"The wicked have no hope in their death." +</p> + +<p> +From the hour that Robert Moncton fell by the hand of the unknown +midnight assassin, Theophilus Moncton was never seen or heard of again +for upwards of twenty years, until his name was forgotten, and I, like +the rest of the world, believed that he was dead, or had become a +voluntary exile in a foreign land. +</p> + +<p> +One day, while crossing the Strand, just below Somerset House, my +charity was solicited by the dirty, ragged sweeper of the street. +</p> + +<p> +The voice, though long unheard, was only too familiar to my ear, and +looking earnestly at the suppliant, with mingled sensation of pity and +horror, I recognized my long-lost cousin Theophilus Moncton. +</p> + +<p> +He, too, recognized me, and dropping the tattered remains of his hat +at my feet, muttered half aloud: +</p> + +<p> +"Do not betray me, Geoffrey; I am a lost and miserable man. My +punishment is already greater than flesh and blood can well bear." +</p> + +<p> +"What assistance can I render you?" I asked, in a faltering voice, as +I dropped my purse into his hat, for the sight of him recalled many +painful recollections. +</p> + +<p> +"You have rendered me the best in your power;" and flinging away his +broom, he disappeared down a dirty, narrow alley, leaving me in a +state of doubt and anxiety concerning him. +</p> + +<p> +Wishing to convert this sinner from the error of his ways, and to +elucidate if possible the mystery which involved his father's death, I +repaired to the same place for several days in the hope of meeting +with him again, but without success. +</p> + +<p> +A week elapsed, and I found another son of want supplying his place at +the crossing of the street. Dropping a shilling into his extended +hand, I asked him what had become of the poor fellow that used to +sweep there. +</p> + +<p> +"Saving your honour's presence," returned the mendicant, in a broad +Irish accent, "he was a big blackguard, and so he was, not over-honest +neither, and always drunk. T'other day, some foolish body who had more +money nor wit, took a fancy to his ugly, unwholesome phiz, and gave +him a purseful of gould—or mayhap he stole it—an' he never quits the +grip of the brandy-bottle till he dies. They carried the body to the +poor-house and that's all I knows of the chap. 'Tis a lucky thing, yer +honor, that the scamp has neither wife nor child." +</p> + +<p> +I thought so, too, as with a heavy sigh I took my way to the inn, +murmuring to myself as I walked along: +</p> + +<p> +"And such is the end of the wicked." +</p> + +<br> + +<p class="ctr"> +THE END. +</p> + +<br> +<p class="ctr"> +LONDON: +<br> +Printed by Schulze and Co., 13, Poland Street. +</p> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Monctons, by Susanna Moodie + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MONCTONS *** + +***** This file should be named 38798-h.htm or 38798-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/7/9/38798/ + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by the +Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions +(www.canadiana.org)) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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