diff options
Diffstat (limited to '647-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 647-0.txt | 8003 |
1 files changed, 8003 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/647-0.txt b/647-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6803b85 --- /dev/null +++ b/647-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8003 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Dynamiter, by Robert Louis Stevenson, et +al + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Dynamiter + More New Arabian Nights + + +Author: Robert Louis Stevenson + + + +Release Date: January 3, 2011 [eBook #647] +This file was first posted on September 13, 1996 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DYNAMITER*** + + +Transcribed from the 1903 Longmans, Green And Co. edition by David Price, +email ccx074@pglaf.org + + _MORE NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS_ + + + + + + THE DYNAMITER + + + BY + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON + AND + FANNY VAN DE GRIFT STEVENSON + + [Picture: The Silver Library] + + _NEW IMPRESSION_ + + * * * * * + + LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. + 39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON + NEW YORK AND BOMBAY + + 1903 + + _All rights reserved_ + + * * * * * + + _BIBLIOGRAPHIC NOTE_ + + _First Edition_, _April 1885_; _Reprinted May 1885_, _July 1885_. + + _Silver Library Edition_, _January 1895_; _Reprinted March 1897_, _July + 1899_, _August 1903_. + + + + +TO +MESSRS. COLE AND COX, +POLICE OFFICERS + + +_Gentlemen,—In the volume now in your hands_, _the authors have touched +upon that ugly devil of crime_, _with which it is your glory to have +contended_. _It were a waste of ink to do so in a serious spirit_. _Let +us dedicate our horror to acts of a more mingled strain_, _where crime +preserves some features of nobility_, _and where reason and humanity can +still relish the temptation_. _Horror_, _in this case_, _is due to Mr. +Parnell_: _he sits before posterity silent_, _Mr. Forster’s appeal +echoing down the ages_. _Horror is due to ourselves_, _in that we have +so long coquetted with political crime_; _not seriously weighing_, _not +acutely following it from cause to consequence_; _but with a generous_, +_unfounded heat of sentiment_, _like the schoolboy with the penny tale_, +_applauding what was specious_. _When it touched ourselves_ (_truly in a +vile shape_), _we proved false to the imaginations_; _discovered_, _in a +clap_, _that crime was no less cruel and no less ugly under sounding +names_; _and recoiled from our false deities_. + +_But seriousness comes most in place when we are to speak of our +defenders_. _Whoever be in the right in this great and confused war of +politics_; _whatever elements of greed_, _whatever traits of the bully_, +_dishonour both parties in this inhuman contest_;—_your side_, _your +part_, _is at least pure of doubt_. _Yours is the side of the child_, +_of the breeding woman_, _of individual pity and public trust_. _If our +society were the mere kingdom of the devil_ (_as indeed it wears some of +his colours_) _it yet embraces many precious elements and many innocent +persons whom it is a glory to defend_. _Courage and devotion_, _so +common in the ranks of the police_, _so little recognised_, _so meagrely +rewarded_, _have at length found their commemoration in an historical +act_. _History_, _which will represent Mr. Parnell sitting silent under +the appeal of Mr. Forster_, _and Gordon setting forth upon his tragic +enterprise_, _will not forget Mr. Cole carrying the dynamite in his +defenceless hands_, _nor Mr. Cox coming coolly to his aid_. + + _ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON_ + + _FANNY VAN DE GRIFT STEVENSON_ + + + + +CONTENTS +_THE DYNAMITER_ + + PAGE +PROLOGUE OF THE CIGAR DIVAN 1 +CHALLONER’S ADVENTURE: + THE SQUIRE OF DAMES 13 + STORY OF THE DESTROYING ANGEL 27 +THE SQUIRE OF DAMES (_continued_) 76 +SUMMERSET’S ADVENTURE: + THE SUPERFLUOUS MANSION 100 + NARRATIVE OF THE SPIRITED OLD LADY 108 +THE SUPERFLUOUS MANSION (_continued_) 145 + ZERO’S TALE OF THE EXPLOSIVE BOMB 195 +DESBOROUGH’S ADVENTURE: + THE BROWN BOX 209 + STORY OF THE FAIR CUBAN 219 +THE BROWN BOX (_continued_) 269 +THE SUPERFLUOUS MANSION (_continued_) 286 +EPILOGUE OF THE CIGAR DIVAN 299 + +A NOTE FOR THE READER + + +It is within the bounds of possibility that you may take up this volume, +and yet be unacquainted with its predecessor: the first series of NEW +ARABIAN NIGHTS. The loss is yours—and mine; or to be more exact, my +publishers’. But if you are thus unlucky, the least I can do is to pass +you a hint. When you shall find a reference in the following pages to +one Theophilus Godall of the Bohemian Cigar Divan in Rupert Street, Soho, +you must be prepared to recognise, under his features, no less a person +than Prince Florizel of Bohemia, formerly one of the magnates of Europe, +now dethroned, exiled, impoverished, and embarked in the tobacco trade. + + R. L. S. + + + + +_PROLOGUE OF THE CIGAR DIVAN_ + + +In the city of encounters, the Bagdad of the West, and, to be more +precise, on the broad northern pavement of Leicester Square, two young +men of five- or six-and-twenty met after years of separation. The first, +who was of a very smooth address and clothed in the best fashion, +hesitated to recognise the pinched and shabby air of his companion. + +‘What!’ he cried, ‘Paul Somerset!’ + +‘I am indeed Paul Somerset,’ returned the other, ‘or what remains of him +after a well-deserved experience of poverty and law. But in you, +Challoner, I can perceive no change; and time may be said, without +hyperbole, to write no wrinkle on your azure brow.’ + +‘All,’ replied Challoner, ‘is not gold that glitters. But we are here in +an ill posture for confidences, and interrupt the movement of these +ladies. Let us, if you please, find a more private corner.’ + +‘If you will allow me to guide you,’ replied Somerset, ‘I will offer you +the best cigar in London.’ + +And taking the arm of his companion, he led him in silence and at a brisk +pace to the door of a quiet establishment in Rupert Street, Soho. The +entrance was adorned with one of those gigantic Highlanders of wood which +have almost risen to the standing of antiquities; and across the +window-glass, which sheltered the usual display of pipes, tobacco, and +cigars, there ran the gilded legend: ‘Bohemian Cigar Divan, by T. +Godall.’ The interior of the shop was small, but commodious and ornate; +the salesman grave, smiling, and urbane; and the two young men, each +puffing a select regalia, had soon taken their places on a sofa of +mouse-coloured plush and proceeded to exchange their stories. + +‘I am now,’ said Somerset, ‘a barrister; but Providence and the attorneys +have hitherto denied me the opportunity to shine. A select society at +the Cheshire Cheese engaged my evenings; my afternoons, as Mr. Godall +could testify, have been generally passed in this divan; and my mornings, +I have taken the precaution to abbreviate by not rising before twelve. +At this rate, my little patrimony was very rapidly, and I am proud to +remember, most agreeably expended. Since then a gentleman, who has +really nothing else to recommend him beyond the fact of being my maternal +uncle, deals me the small sum of ten shillings a week; and if you behold +me once more revisiting the glimpses of the street lamps in my favourite +quarter, you will readily divine that I have come into a fortune.’ + +‘I should not have supposed so,’ replied Challoner. ‘But doubtless I met +you on the way to your tailors.’ + +‘It is a visit that I purpose to delay,’ returned Somerset, with a smile. +‘My fortune has definite limits. It consists, or rather this morning it +consisted, of one hundred pounds.’ + +‘That is certainly odd,’ said Challoner; ‘yes, certainly the coincidence +is strange. I am myself reduced to the same margin.’ + +‘You!’ cried Somerset. ‘And yet Solomon in all his glory—’ + +‘Such is the fact. I am, dear boy, on my last legs,’ said Challoner. +‘Besides the clothes in which you see me, I have scarcely a decent +trouser in my wardrobe; and if I knew how, I would this instant set about +some sort of work or commerce. With a hundred pounds for capital, a man +should push his way.’ + +‘It may be,’ returned Somerset; ‘but what to do with mine is more than I +can fancy. Mr. Godall,’ he added, addressing the salesman, ‘you are a +man who knows the world: what can a young fellow of reasonable education +do with a hundred pounds?’ + +‘It depends,’ replied the salesman, withdrawing his cheroot. ‘The power +of money is an article of faith in which I profess myself a sceptic. A +hundred pounds will with difficulty support you for a year; with somewhat +more difficulty you may spend it in a night; and without any difficulty +at all you may lose it in five minutes on the Stock Exchange. If you are +of that stamp of man that rises, a penny would be as useful; if you +belong to those that fall, a penny would be no more useless. When I was +myself thrown unexpectedly upon the world, it was my fortune to possess +an art: I knew a good cigar. Do you know nothing, Mr. Somerset?’ + +‘Not even law,’ was the reply. + +‘The answer is worthy of a sage,’ returned Mr. Godall. ‘And you, sir,’ +he continued, turning to Challoner, ‘as the friend of Mr. Somerset, may I +be allowed to address you the same question?’ + +‘Well,’ replied Challoner, ‘I play a fair hand at whist.’ + +‘How many persons are there in London,’ returned the salesman, ‘who have +two-and-thirty teeth? Believe me, young gentleman, there are more still +who play a fair hand at whist. Whist, sir, is wide as the world; ’tis an +accomplishment like breathing. I once knew a youth who announced that he +was studying to be Chancellor of England; the design was certainly +ambitious; but I find it less excessive than that of the man who aspires +to make a livelihood by whist.’ + +‘Dear me,’ said Challoner, ‘I am afraid I shall have to fall to be a +working man.’ + +‘Fall to be a working man?’ echoed Mr. Godall. ‘Suppose a rural dean to +be unfrocked, does he fall to be a major? suppose a captain were +cashiered, would he fall to be a puisne judge? The ignorance of your +middle class surprises me. Outside itself, it thinks the world to lie +quite ignorant and equal, sunk in a common degradation; but to the eye of +the observer, all ranks are seen to stand in ordered hierarchies, and +each adorned with its particular aptitudes and knowledge. By the defects +of your education you are more disqualified to be a working man than to +be the ruler of an empire. The gulf, sir, is below; and the true learned +arts—those which alone are safe from the competition of insurgent +laymen—are those which give his title to the artisan.’ + +‘This is a very pompous fellow,’ said Challoner, in the ear of his +companion. + +‘He is immense,’ said Somerset. + +Just then the door of the divan was opened, and a third young fellow made +his appearance, and rather bashfully requested some tobacco. He was +younger than the others; and, in a somewhat meaningless and altogether +English way, he was a handsome lad. When he had been served, and had +lighted his pipe and taken his place upon the sofa, he recalled himself +to Challoner by the name of Desborough. + +‘Desborough, to be sure,’ cried Challoner. ‘Well, Desborough, and what +do you do?’ + +‘The fact is,’ said Desborough, ‘that I am doing nothing.’ + +‘A private fortune possibly?’ inquired the other. + +‘Well, no,’ replied Desborough, rather sulkily. ‘The fact is that I am +waiting for something to turn up.’ + +‘All in the same boat!’ cried Somerset. ‘And have you, too, one hundred +pounds?’ + +‘Worse luck,’ said Mr. Desborough. + +‘This is a very pathetic sight, Mr. Godall,’ said Somerset: ‘Three +futiles.’ + +‘A character of this crowded age,’ returned the salesman. + +‘Sir,’ said Somerset, ‘I deny that the age is crowded; I will admit one +fact, and one fact only: that I am futile, that he is futile, and that we +are all three as futile as the devil. What am I? I have smattered law, +smattered letters, smattered geography, smattered mathematics; I have +even a working knowledge of judicial astrology; and here I stand, all +London roaring by at the street’s end, as impotent as any baby. I have a +prodigious contempt for my maternal uncle; but without him, it is idle to +deny it, I should simply resolve into my elements like an unstable +mixture. I begin to perceive that it is necessary to know some one thing +to the bottom—were it only literature. And yet, sir, the man of the +world is a great feature of this age; he is possessed of an extraordinary +mass and variety of knowledge; he is everywhere at home; he has seen life +in all its phases; and it is impossible but that this great habit of +existence should bear fruit. I count myself a man of the world, +accomplished, _cap-à-pie_. So do you, Challoner. And you, Mr. +Desborough?’ + +‘Oh yes,’ returned the young man. + +‘Well then, Mr. Godall, here we stand, three men of the world, without a +trade to cover us, but planted at the strategic centre of the universe +(for so you will allow me to call Rupert Street), in the midst of the +chief mass of people, and within ear-shot of the most continuous chink of +money on the surface of the globe. Sir, as civilised men, what do we do? +I will show you. You take in a paper?’ + +‘I take,’ said Mr. Godall solemnly, ‘the best paper in the world, the +_Standard_.’ + +‘Good,’ resumed Somerset. ‘I now hold it in my hand, the voice of the +world, a telephone repeating all men’s wants. I open it, and where my +eye first falls—well, no, not Morrison’s Pills—but here, sure enough, and +but a little above, I find the joint that I was seeking; here is the weak +spot in the armour of society. Here is a want, a plaint, an offer of +substantial gratitude: “_Two hundred Pounds Reward_.—The above reward +will be paid to any person giving information as to the identity and +whereabouts of a man observed yesterday in the neighbourhood of the Green +Park. He was over six feet in height, with shoulders disproportionately +broad, close shaved, with black moustaches, and wearing a sealskin +great-coat.” There, gentlemen, our fortune, if not made, is founded.’ + +‘Do you then propose, dear boy, that we should turn detectives?’ inquired +Challoner. + +‘Do I propose it? No, sir,’ cried Somerset. ‘It is reason, destiny, the +plain face of the world, that commands and imposes it. Here all our +merits tell; our manners, habit of the world, powers of conversation, +vast stores of unconnected knowledge, all that we are and have builds up +the character of the complete detective. It is, in short, the only +profession for a gentleman.’ + +‘The proposition is perhaps excessive,’ replied Challoner; ‘for hitherto +I own I have regarded it as of all dirty, sneaking, and ungentlemanly +trades, the least and lowest.’ + +‘To defend society?’ asked Somerset; ‘to stake one’s life for others? to +deracinate occult and powerful evil? I appeal to Mr. Godall. He, at +least, as a philosophic looker-on at life, will spit upon such philistine +opinions. He knows that the policeman, as he is called upon continually +to face greater odds, and that both worse equipped and for a better +cause, is in form and essence a more noble hero than the soldier. Do +you, by any chance, deceive yourself into supposing that a general would +either ask or expect, from the best army ever marshalled, and on the most +momentous battle-field, the conduct of a common constable at Peckham +Rye?’ {9} + +‘I did not understand we were to join the force,’ said Challoner. + +‘Nor shall we. These are the hands; but here—here, sir, is the head,’ +cried Somerset. ‘Enough; it is decreed. We shall hunt down this +miscreant in the sealskin coat.’ + +‘Suppose that we agreed,’ retorted Challoner, ‘you have no plan, no +knowledge; you know not where to seek for a beginning.’ + +‘Challoner!’ cried Somerset, ‘is it possible that you hold the doctrine +of Free Will? And are you devoid of any tincture of philosophy, that you +should harp on such exploded fallacies? Chance, the blind Madonna of the +Pagan, rules this terrestrial bustle; and in Chance I place my sole +reliance. Chance has brought us three together; when we next separate +and go forth our several ways, Chance will continually drag before our +careless eyes a thousand eloquent clues, not to this mystery only, but to +the countless mysteries by which we live surrounded. Then comes the part +of the man of the world, of the detective born and bred. This clue, +which the whole town beholds without comprehension, swift as a cat, he +leaps upon it, makes it his, follows it with craft and passion, and from +one trifling circumstance divines a world.’ + +‘Just so,’ said Challoner; ‘and I am delighted that you should recognise +these virtues in yourself. But in the meanwhile, dear boy, I own myself +incapable of joining. I was neither born nor bred as a detective, but as +a placable and very thirsty gentleman; and, for my part, I begin to weary +for a drink. As for clues and adventures, the only adventure that is +ever likely to occur to me will be an adventure with a bailiff.’ + +‘Now there is the fallacy,’ cried Somerset. ‘There I catch the secret of +your futility in life. The world teems and bubbles with adventure; it +besieges you along the street: hands waving out of windows, swindlers +coming up and swearing they knew you when you were abroad, affable and +doubtful people of all sorts and conditions begging and truckling for +your notice. But not you: you turn away, you walk your seedy mill round, +you must go the dullest way. Now here, I beg of you, the next adventure +that offers itself, embrace it in with both your arms; whatever it looks, +grimy or romantic, grasp it. I will do the like; the devil is in it, but +at least we shall have fun; and each in turn we shall narrate the story +of our fortunes to my philosophic friend of the divan, the great Godall, +now hearing me with inward joy. Come, is it a bargain? Will you, +indeed, both promise to welcome every chance that offers, to plunge +boldly into every opening, and, keeping the eye wary and the head +composed, to study and piece together all that happens? Come, promise: +let me open to you the doors of the great profession of intrigue.’ + +‘It is not much in my way,’ said Challoner, ‘but, since you make a point +of it, amen.’ + +‘I don’t mind promising,’ said Desborough, ‘but nothing will happen to +me.’ + +‘O faithless ones!’ cried Somerset. ‘But at least I have your promises; +and Godall, I perceive, is transported with delight.’ + +‘I promise myself at least much pleasure from your various narratives,’ +said the salesman, with the customary calm polish of his manner. + +‘And now, gentlemen,’ concluded Somerset, ‘let us separate. I hasten to +put myself in fortune’s way. Hark how, in this quiet corner, London +roars like the noise of battle; four million destinies are here +concentred; and in the strong panoply of one hundred pounds, payable to +the bearer, I am about to plunge into that web.’ + + + + +CHALLONER’S ADVENTURE + + +_THE SQUIRE OF DAMES_ + + +Mr. Edward Challoner had set up lodgings in the suburb of Putney, where +he enjoyed a parlour and bedroom and the sincere esteem of the people of +the house. To this remote home he found himself, at a very early hour in +the morning of the next day, condemned to set forth on foot. He was a +young man of a portly habit; no lover of the exercises of the body; +bland, sedentary, patient of delay, a prop of omnibuses. In happier days +he would have chartered a cab; but these luxuries were now denied him; +and with what courage he could muster he addressed himself to walk. + +It was then the height of the season and the summer; the weather was +serene and cloudless; and as he paced under the blinded houses and along +the vacant streets, the chill of the dawn had fled, and some of the +warmth and all the brightness of the July day already shone upon the +city. He walked at first in a profound abstraction, bitterly reviewing +and repenting his performances at whist; but as he advanced into the +labyrinth of the south-west, his ear was gradually mastered by the +silence. Street after street looked down upon his solitary figure, house +after house echoed upon his passage with a ghostly jar, shop after shop +displayed its shuttered front and its commercial legend; and meanwhile he +steered his course, under day’s effulgent dome and through this +encampment of diurnal sleepers, lonely as a ship. + +‘Here,’ he reflected, ‘if I were like my scatter-brained companion, here +were indeed the scene where I might look for an adventure. Here, in +broad day, the streets are secret as in the blackest night of January, +and in the midst of some four million sleepers, solitary as the woods of +Yucatan. If I but raise my voice I could summon up the number of an +army, and yet the grave is not more silent than this city of sleep.’ + +He was still following these quaint and serious musings when he came into +a street of more mingled ingredients than was common in the quarter. +Here, on the one hand, framed in walls and the green tops of trees, were +several of those discreet, _bijou_ residences on which propriety is apt +to look askance. Here, too, were many of the brick-fronted barracks of +the poor; a plaster cow, perhaps, serving as ensign to a dairy, or a +ticket announcing the business of the mangler. Before one such house, +that stood a little separate among walled gardens, a cat was playing with +a straw, and Challoner paused a moment, looking on this sleek and +solitary creature, who seemed an emblem of the neighbouring peace. With +the cessation of the sound of his own steps the silence fell dead; the +house stood smokeless: the blinds down, the whole machinery of life +arrested; and it seemed to Challoner that he should hear the breathing of +the sleepers. + +As he so stood, he was startled by a dull and jarring detonation from +within. This was followed by a monstrous hissing and simmering as from a +kettle of the bigness of St. Paul’s; and at the same time from every +chink of door and window spirted an ill-smelling vapour. The cat +disappeared with a cry. Within the lodging-house feet pounded on the +stairs; the door flew back, emitting clouds of smoke; and two men and an +elegantly dressed young lady tumbled forth into the street and fled +without a word. The hissing had already ceased, the smoke was melting in +the air, the whole event had come and gone as in a dream, and still +Challoner was rooted to the spot. At last his reason and his fear awoke +together, and with the most unwonted energy he fell to running. + +Little by little this first dash relaxed, and presently he had resumed +his sober gait and begun to piece together, out of the confused report of +his senses, some theory of the occurrence. But the occasion of the +sounds and stench that had so suddenly assailed him, and the strange +conjunction of fugitives whom he had seen to issue from the house, were +mysteries beyond his plummet. With an obscure awe he considered them in +his mind, continuing, meanwhile, to thread the web of streets, and once +more alone in morning sunshine. + +In his first retreat he had entirely wandered; and now, steering vaguely +west, it was his luck to light upon an unpretending street, which +presently widened so as to admit a strip of gardens in the midst. Here +was quite a stir of birds; even at that hour, the shadow of the leaves +was grateful; instead of the burnt atmosphere of cities, there was +something brisk and rural in the air; and Challoner paced forward, his +eyes upon the pavement and his mind running upon distant scenes, till he +was recalled, upon a sudden, by a wall that blocked his further progress. +This street, whose name I have forgotten, is no thoroughfare. + +He was not the first who had wandered there that morning; for as he +raised his eyes with an agreeable deliberation, they alighted on the +figure of a girl, in whom he was struck to recognise the third of the +incongruous fugitives. She had run there, seemingly, blindfold; the wall +had checked her career: and being entirely wearied, she had sunk upon the +ground beside the garden railings, soiling her dress among the summer +dust. Each saw the other in the same instant of time; and she, with one +wild look, sprang to her feet and began to hurry from the scene. + +Challoner was doubly startled to meet once more the heroine of his +adventure, and to observe the fear with which she shunned him. Pity and +alarm, in nearly equal forces, contested the possession of his mind; and +yet, in spite of both, he saw himself condemned to follow in the lady’s +wake. He did so gingerly, as fearing to increase her terrors; but, tread +as lightly as he might, his footfalls eloquently echoed in the empty +street. Their sound appeared to strike in her some strong emotion; for +scarce had he begun to follow ere she paused. A second time she +addressed herself to flight; and a second time she paused. Then she +turned about, and with doubtful steps and the most attractive appearance +of timidity, drew near to the young man. He on his side continued to +advance with similar signals of distress and bashfulness. At length, +when they were but some steps apart, he saw her eyes brim over, and she +reached out both her hands in eloquent appeal. + +‘Are you an English gentleman?’ she cried. + +The unhappy Challoner regarded her with consternation. He was the spirit +of fine courtesy, and would have blushed to fail in his devoirs to any +lady; but, in the other scale, he was a man averse from amorous +adventures. He looked east and west; but the houses that looked down +upon this interview remained inexorably shut; and he saw himself, though +in the full glare of the day’s eye, cut off from any human intervention. +His looks returned at last upon the suppliant. He remarked with +irritation that she was charming both in face and figure, elegantly +dressed and gloved; a lady undeniable; the picture of distress and +innocence; weeping and lost in the city of diurnal sleep. + +‘Madam,’ he said, ‘I protest you have no cause to fear intrusion; and if +I have appeared to follow you, the fault is in this street, which has +deceived us both.’ An unmistakable relief appeared upon the lady’s face. +‘I might have guessed it!’ she exclaimed. ‘Thank you a thousand times! +But at this hour, in this appalling silence, and among all these staring +windows, I am lost in terrors—oh, lost in them!’ she cried, her face +blanching at the words. ‘I beg you to lend me your arm,’ she added with +the loveliest, suppliant inflection. ‘I dare not go alone; my nerve is +gone—I had a shock, oh, what a shock! I beg of you to be my escort.’ + +‘My dear madam,’ responded Challoner heavily, ‘my arm is at your +service.’ + +‘She took it and clung to it for a moment, struggling with her sobs; and +the next, with feverish hurry, began to lead him in the direction of the +city. One thing was plain, among so much that was obscure: it was plain +her fears were genuine. Still, as she went, she spied around as if for +dangers; and now she would shiver like a person in a chill, and now +clutch his arm in hers. To Challoner her terror was at once repugnant +and infectious; it gained and mastered, while it still offended him; and +he wailed in spirit and longed for release. + +‘Madam,’ he said at last, ‘I am, of course, charmed to be of use to any +lady; but I confess I was bound in a direction opposite to that you +follow, and a word of explanation—’ + +‘Hush!’ she sobbed, ‘not here—not here!’ + +The blood of Challoner ran cold. He might have thought the lady mad; but +his memory was charged with more perilous stuff; and in view of the +detonation, the smoke and the flight of the ill-assorted trio, his mind +was lost among mysteries. So they continued to thread the maze of +streets in silence, with the speed of a guilty flight, and both thrilling +with incommunicable terrors. In time, however, and above all by their +quick pace of walking, the pair began to rise to firmer spirits; the lady +ceased to peer about the corners; and Challoner, emboldened by the +resonant tread and distant figure of a constable, returned to the charge +with more of spirit and directness. + +‘I thought,’ said he, in the tone of conversation, ‘that I had +indistinctly perceived you leaving a villa in the company of two +gentlemen.’ + +‘Oh!’ she said, ‘you need not fear to wound me by the truth. You saw me +flee from a common lodging-house, and my companions were not gentlemen. +In such a case, the best of compliments is to be frank.’ + +‘I thought,’ resumed Challoner, encouraged as much as he was surprised by +the spirit of her reply, ‘to have perceived, besides, a certain odour. A +noise, too—I do not know to what I should compare it—’ + +‘Silence!’ she cried. ‘You do not know the danger you invoke. Wait, +only wait; and as soon as we have left those streets, and got beyond the +reach of listeners, all shall be explained. Meanwhile, avoid the topic. +What a sight is this sleeping city!’ she exclaimed; and then, with a most +thrilling voice, ‘“Dear God,” she quoted, “the very houses seem asleep, +and all that mighty heart is lying still.”’ + +‘I perceive, madam,’ said he, ‘you are a reader.’ + +‘I am more than that,’ she answered, with a sigh. ‘I am a girl condemned +to thoughts beyond her age; and so untoward is my fate, that this walk +upon the arm of a stranger is like an interlude of peace.’ + +They had come by this time to the neighbourhood of the Victoria Station +and here, at a street corner, the young lady paused, withdrew her arm +from Challoner’s, and looked up and down as though in pain or indecision. +Then, with a lovely change of countenance, and laying her gloved hand +upon his arm— + +‘What you already think of me,’ she said, ‘I tremble to conceive; yet I +must here condemn myself still further. Here I must leave you, and here +I beseech you to wait for my return. Do not attempt to follow me or spy +upon my actions. Suspend yet awhile your judgment of a girl as innocent +as your own sister; and do not, above all, desert me. Stranger as you +are, I have none else to look to. You see me in sorrow and great fear; +you are a gentleman, courteous and kind: and when I beg for a few +minutes’ patience, I make sure beforehand you will not deny me.’ + +Challoner grudgingly promised; and the young lady, with a grateful +eye-shot, vanished round the corner. But the force of her appeal had +been a little blunted; for the young man was not only destitute of +sisters, but of any female relative nearer than a great-aunt in Wales. +Now he was alone, besides, the spell that he had hitherto obeyed began to +weaken; he considered his behaviour with a sneer; and plucking up the +spirit of revolt, he started in pursuit. The reader, if he has ever +plied the fascinating trade of the noctambulist, will not be unaware +that, in the neighbourhood of the great railway centres, certain early +taverns inaugurate the business of the day. It was into one of these +that Challoner, coming round the corner of the block, beheld his charming +companion disappear. To say he was surprised were inexact, for he had +long since left that sentiment behind him. Acute disgust and +disappointment seized upon his soul; and with silent oaths, he damned +this commonplace enchantress. She had scarce been gone a second, ere the +swing-doors reopened, and she appeared again in company with a young man +of mean and slouching attire. For some five or six exchanges they +conversed together with an animated air; then the fellow shouldered again +into the tap; and the young lady, with something swifter than a walk, +retraced her steps towards Challoner. He saw her coming, a miracle of +grace; her ankle, as she hurried, flashing from her dress; her movements +eloquent of speed and youth; and though he still entertained some +thoughts of flight, they grew miserably fainter as the distance lessened. +Against mere beauty he was proof: it was her unmistakable gentility that +now robbed him of the courage of his cowardice. With a proved +adventuress he had acted strictly on his right; with one who, in spite of +all, he could not quite deny to be a lady, he found himself disarmed. At +the very corner from whence he had spied upon her interview, she came +upon him, still transfixed, and—‘Ah!’ she cried, with a bright flush of +colour. ‘Ah! Ungenerous!’ + +The sharpness of the attack somewhat restored the Squire of Dames to the +possession of himself. + +‘Madam,’ he returned, with a fair show of stoutness, ‘I do not think that +hitherto you can complain of any lack of generosity; I have suffered +myself to be led over a considerable portion of the metropolis; and if I +now request you to discharge me of my office of protector, you have +friends at hand who will be glad of the succession.’ + +She stood a moment dumb. + +‘It is well,’ she said. ‘Go! go, and may God help me! You have seen +me—me, an innocent girl! fleeing from a dire catastrophe and haunted by +sinister men; and neither pity, curiosity, nor honour move you to await +my explanation or to help in my distress. Go!’ she repeated. ‘I am lost +indeed.’ And with a passionate gesture she turned and fled along the +street. + +Challoner observed her retreat and disappear, an almost intolerable sense +of guilt contending with the profound sense that he was being gulled. +She was no sooner gone than the first of these feelings took the upper +hand; he felt, if he had done her less than justice, that his conduct was +a perfect model of the ungracious; the cultured tone of her voice, her +choice of language, and the elegant decorum of her movements, cried out +aloud against a harsh construction; and between penitence and curiosity +he began slowly to follow in her wake. At the corner he had her once +more full in view. Her speed was failing like a stricken bird’s. Even +as he looked, she threw her arm out gropingly, and fell and leaned +against the wall. At the spectacle, Challoner’s fortitude gave way. In +a few strides he overtook her and, for the first time removing his hat, +assured her in the most moving terms of his entire respect and firm +desire to help her. He spoke at first unheeded; but gradually it +appeared that she began to comprehend his words; she moved a little, and +drew herself upright; and finally, as with a sudden movement of +forgiveness, turned on the young man a countenance in which reproach and +gratitude were mingled. ‘Ah, madam,’ he cried, ‘use me as you will!’ +And once more, but now with a great air of deference, he offered her the +conduct of his arm. She took it with a sigh that struck him to the +heart; and they began once more to trace the deserted streets. But now +her steps, as though exhausted by emotion, began to linger on the way; +she leaned the more heavily upon his arm; and he, like the parent bird, +stooped fondly above his drooping convoy. Her physical distress was not +accompanied by any failing of her spirits; and hearing her strike so soon +into a playful and charming vein of talk, Challoner could not +sufficiently admire the elasticity of his companion’s nature. ‘Let me +forget,’ she had said, ‘for one half hour, let me forget;’ and sure +enough, with the very word, her sorrows appeared to be forgotten. Before +every house she paused, invented a name for the proprietor, and sketched +his character: here lived the old general whom she was to marry on the +fifth of the next month, there was the mansion of the rich widow who had +set her heart on Challoner; and though she still hung wearily on the +young man’s arm, her laughter sounded low and pleasant in his ears. +‘Ah,’ she sighed, by way of commentary, ‘in such a life as mine I must +seize tight hold of any happiness that I can find.’ + +When they arrived, in this leisurely manner, at the head of Grosvenor +Place, the gates of the park were opening and the bedraggled company of +night-walkers were being at last admitted into that paradise of lawns. +Challoner and his companion followed the movement, and walked for awhile +in silence in that tatterdemalion crowd; but as one after another, weary +with the night’s patrolling of the city pavement, sank upon the benches +or wandered into separate paths, the vast extent of the park had soon +utterly swallowed up the last of these intruders; and the pair proceeded +on their way alone in the grateful quiet of the morning. + +Presently they came in sight of a bench, standing very open on a mound of +turf. The young lady looked about her with relief. + +‘Here,’ she said, ‘here at last we are secure from listeners. Here, +then, you shall learn and judge my history. I could not bear that we +should part, and that you should still suppose your kindness squandered +upon one who was unworthy.’ + +Thereupon she sat down upon the bench, and motioning Challoner to take a +place immediately beside her, began in the following words, and with the +greatest appearance of enjoyment, to narrate the story of her life. + + + +_STORY OF THE DESTROYING ANGEL_ + + +My father was a native of England, son of a cadet of a great, ancient, +but untitled family; and by some event, fault or misfortune, he was +driven to flee from the land of his birth and to lay aside the name of +his ancestors. He sought the States; and instead of lingering in +effeminate cities, pushed at once into the far West with an exploring +party of frontiersmen. He was no ordinary traveller; for he was not only +brave and impetuous by character, but learned in many sciences, and above +all in botany, which he particularly loved. Thus it fell that, before +many months, Fremont himself, the nominal leader of the troop, courted +and bowed to his opinion. + +They had pushed, as I have said, into the still unknown regions of the +West. For some time they followed the track of Mormon caravans, guiding +themselves in that vast and melancholy desert by the skeletons of men and +animals. Then they inclined their route a little to the north, and, +losing even these dire memorials, came into a country of forbidding +stillness. + +I have often heard my father dwell upon the features of that ride: rock, +cliff, and barren moor alternated; the streams were very far between; and +neither beast nor bird disturbed the solitude. On the fortieth day they +had already run so short of food that it was judged advisable to call a +halt and scatter upon all sides to hunt. A great fire was built, that +its smoke might serve to rally them; and each man of the party mounted +and struck off at a venture into the surrounding desert. + +My father rode for many hours with a steep range of cliffs upon the one +hand, very black and horrible; and upon the other an unwatered vale +dotted with boulders like the site of some subverted city. At length he +found the slot of a great animal, and from the claw-marks and the hair +among the brush, judged that he was on the track of a cinnamon bear of +most unusual size. He quickened the pace of his steed, and still +following the quarry, came at last to the division of two watersheds. On +the far side the country was exceeding intricate and difficult, heaped +with boulders, and dotted here and there with a few pines, which seemed +to indicate the neighbourhood of water. Here, then, he picketed his +horse, and relying on his trusty rifle, advanced alone into that +wilderness. + +Presently, in the great silence that reigned, he was aware of the sound +of running water to his right; and leaning in that direction, was +rewarded by a scene of natural wonder and human pathos strangely +intermixed. The stream ran at the bottom of a narrow and winding +passage, whose wall-like sides of rock were sometimes for miles together +unscalable by man. The water, when the stream was swelled with rains, +must have filled it from side to side; the sun’s rays only plumbed it in +the hour of noon; the wind, in that narrow and damp funnel, blew +tempestuously. And yet, in the bottom of this den, immediately below my +father’s eyes as he leaned over the margin of the cliff, a party of some +half a hundred men, women, and children lay scattered uneasily among the +rocks. They lay some upon their backs, some prone, and not one stirring; +their upturned faces seemed all of an extraordinary paleness and +emaciation; and from time to time, above the washing of the stream, a +faint sound of moaning mounted to my father’s ears. + +While he thus looked, an old man got staggering to his feet, unwound his +blanket, and laid it, with great gentleness, on a young girl who sat hard +by propped against a rock. The girl did not seem to be conscious of the +act; and the old man, after having looked upon her with the most engaging +pity, returned to his former bed and lay down again uncovered on the +turf. But the scene had not passed without observation even in that +starving camp. From the very outskirts of the party, a man with a white +beard and seemingly of venerable years, rose upon his knees, and came +crawling stealthily among the sleepers towards the girl; and judge of my +father’s indignation, when he beheld this cowardly miscreant strip from +her both the coverings and return with them to his original position. +Here he lay down for a while below his spoils, and, as my father +imagined, feigned to be asleep; but presently he had raised himself again +upon one elbow, looked with sharp scrutiny at his companions, and then +swiftly carried his hand into his bosom and thence to his mouth. By the +movement of his jaws he must be eating; in that camp of famine he had +reserved a store of nourishment; and while his companions lay in the +stupor of approaching death, secretly restored his powers. + +My father was so incensed at what he saw that he raised his rifle; and +but for an accident, he has often declared, he would have shot the fellow +dead upon the spot. How different would then have been my history! But +it was not to be: even as he raised the barrel, his eye lighted on the +bear, as it crawled along a ledge some way below him; and ceding to the +hunters instinct, it was at the brute, not at the man, that he discharged +his piece. The bear leaped and fell into a pool of the river; the canyon +re-echoed the report; and in a moment the camp was afoot. With cries +that were scarce human, stumbling, falling and throwing each other down, +these starving people rushed upon the quarry; and before my father, +climbing down by the ledge, had time to reach the level of the stream, +many were already satisfying their hunger on the raw flesh, and a fire +was being built by the more dainty. + +His arrival was for some time unremarked. He stood in the midst of these +tottering and clay-faced marionettes; he was surrounded by their cries; +but their whole soul was fixed on the dead carcass; even those who were +too weak to move, lay, half-turned over, with their eyes riveted upon the +bear; and my father, seeing himself stand as though invisible in the +thick of this dreary hubbub, was seized with a desire to weep. A touch +upon the arm restrained him. Turning about, he found himself face to +face with the old man he had so nearly killed; and yet, at the second +glance, recognised him for no old man at all, but one in the full +strength of his years, and of a strong, speaking, and intellectual +countenance stigmatised by weariness and famine. He beckoned my father +near the cliff, and there, in the most private whisper, begged for +brandy. My father looked at him with scorn: ‘You remind me,’ he said, +‘of a neglected duty. Here is my flask; it contains enough, I trust, to +revive the women of your party; and I will begin with her whom I saw you +robbing of her blankets.’ And with that, not heeding his appeals, my +father turned his back upon the egoist. + +The girl still lay reclined against the rock; she lay too far sunk in the +first stage of death to have observed the bustle round her couch; but +when my father had raised her head, put the flask to her lips, and forced +or aided her to swallow some drops of the restorative, she opened her +languid eyes and smiled upon him faintly. Never was there a smile of a +more touching sweetness; never were eyes more deeply violet, more +honestly eloquent of the soul! I speak with knowledge, for these were +the same eyes that smiled upon me in the cradle. From her who was to be +his wife, my father, still jealously watched and followed by the man with +the grey beard, carried his attentions to all the women of the party, and +gave the last drainings of his flask to those among the men who seemed in +the most need. + +‘Is there none left? not a drop for me?’ said the man with the beard. + +‘Not one drop,’ replied my father; ‘and if you find yourself in want, let +me counsel you to put your hand into the pocket of your coat.’ + +‘Ah!’ cried the other, ‘you misjudge me. You think me one who clings to +life for selfish and commonplace considerations. But let me tell you, +that were all this caravan to perish, the world would but be lightened of +a weight. These are but human insects, pullulating, thick as May-flies, +in the slums of European cities, whom I myself have plucked from +degradation and misery, from the dung-heap and gin-palace door. And you +compare their lives with mine!’ + +‘You are then a Mormon missionary?’ asked my father. + +‘Oh!’ cried the man, with a strange smile, ‘a Mormon missionary if you +will! I value not the title. Were I no more than that, I could have +died without a murmur. But with my life as a physician is bound up the +knowledge of great secrets and the future of man. This it was, when we +missed the caravan, tried for a short cut and wandered to this desolate +ravine, that ate into my soul, and, in five days, has changed my beard +from ebony to silver.’ + +‘And you are a physician,’ mused my father, looking on his face, ‘bound +by oath to succour man in his distresses.’ + +‘Sir,’ returned the Mormon, ‘my name is Grierson: you will hear that name +again; and you will then understand that my duty was not to this caravan +of paupers, but to mankind at large.’ + +My father turned to the remainder of the party, who were now sufficiently +revived to hear; told them that he would set off at once to bring help +from his own party; ‘and,’ he added, ‘if you be again reduced to such +extremities, look round you, and you will see the earth strewn with +assistance. Here, for instance, growing on the under side of fissures in +this cliff, you will perceive a yellow moss. Trust me, it is both edible +and excellent.’ + +‘Ha!’ said Doctor Grierson, ‘you know botany!’ + +‘Not I alone,’ returned my father, lowering his voice; ‘for see where +these have been scraped away. Am I right? Was that your secret store?’ + +My father’s comrades, he found, when he returned to the signal-fire, had +made a good day’s hunting. They were thus the more easily persuaded to +extend assistance to the Mormon caravan; and the next day beheld both +parties on the march for the frontiers of Utah. The distance to be +traversed was not great; but the nature of the country, and the +difficulty of procuring food, extended the time to nearly three weeks; +and my father had thus ample leisure to know and appreciate the girl whom +he had succoured. I will call my mother Lucy. Her family name I am not +at liberty to mention; it is one you would know well. By what series of +undeserved calamities this innocent flower of maidenhood, lovely, refined +by education, ennobled by the finest taste, was thus cast among the +horrors of a Mormon caravan, I must not stay to tell you. Let it +suffice, that even in these untoward circumstances, she found a heart +worthy of her own. The ardour of attachment which united my father and +mother was perhaps partly due to the strange manner of their meeting; it +knew, at least, no bounds either divine or human; my father, for her +sake, determined to renounce his ambitions and abjure his faith; and a +week had not yet passed upon the march before he had resigned from his +party, accepted the Mormon doctrine, and received the promise of my +mother’s hand on the arrival of the party at Salt Lake. + +The marriage took place, and I was its only offspring. My father +prospered exceedingly in his affairs, remained faithful to my mother; and +though you may wonder to hear it, I believe there were few happier homes +in any country than that in which I saw the light and grew to girlhood. +We were, indeed, and in spite of all our wealth, avoided as heretics and +half-believers by the more precise and pious of the faithful: Young +himself, that formidable tyrant, was known to look askance upon my +father’s riches; but of this I had no guess. I dwelt, indeed, under the +Mormon system, with perfect innocence and faith. Some of our friends had +many wives; but such was the custom; and why should it surprise me more +than marriage itself? From time to time one of our rich acquaintances +would disappear, his family be broken up, his wives and houses shared +among the elders of the Church, and his memory only recalled with bated +breath and dreadful headshakings. When I had been very still, and my +presence perhaps was forgotten, some such topic would arise among my +elders by the evening fire; I would see them draw the closer together and +look behind them with scared eyes; and I might gather from their +whisperings how some one, rich, honoured, healthy, and in the prime of +his days, some one, perhaps, who had taken me on his knees a week before, +had in one hour been spirited from home and family, and vanished like an +image from a mirror, leaving not a print behind. It was terrible, +indeed; but so was death, the universal law. And even if the talk should +wax still bolder, full of ominous silences and nods, and I should hear +named in a whisper the Destroying Angels, how was a child to understand +these mysteries? I heard of a Destroying Angel as some more happy child +might hear in England of a bishop or a rural dean, with vague respect and +without the wish for further information. Life anywhere, in society as +in nature, rests upon dread foundations; I beheld safe roads, a garden +blooming in the desert, pious people crowding to worship; I was aware of +my parents’ tenderness and all the harmless luxuries of my existence; and +why should I pry beneath this honest seeming surface for the mysteries on +which it stood? + +We dwelt originally in the city; but at an early date we moved to a +beautiful house in a green dingle, musical with splashing water, and +surrounded on almost every side by twenty miles of poisonous and rocky +desert. The city was thirty miles away; there was but one road, which +went no further than my father’s door; the rest were bridle-tracks +impassable in winter; and we thus dwelt in a solitude inconceivable to +the European. Our only neighbour was Dr. Grierson. To my young eyes, +after the hair-oiled, chin-bearded elders of the city, and the +ill-favoured and mentally stunted women of their harems, there was +something agreeable in the correct manner, the fine bearing, the thin +white hair and beard, and the piercing looks of the old doctor. Yet, +though he was almost our only visitor, I never wholly overcame a sense of +fear in his presence; and this disquietude was rather fed by the awful +solitude in which he lived and the obscurity that hung about his +occupations. His house was but a mile or two from ours, but very +differently placed. It stood overlooking the road on the summit of a +steep slope, and planted close against a range of overhanging bluffs. +Nature, you would say, had here desired to imitate the works of man; for +the slope was even, like the glacis of a fort, and the cliffs of a +constant height, like the ramparts of a city. Not even spring could +change one feature of that desolate scene; and the windows looked down +across a plain, snowy with alkali, to ranges of cold stone sierras on the +north. Twice or thrice I remember passing within view of this forbidding +residence; and seeing it always shuttered, smokeless, and deserted, I +remarked to my parents that some day it would certainly be robbed. + +‘Ah, no,’ said my father, ‘never robbed;’ and I observed a strange +conviction in his tone. + +At last, and not long before the blow fell on my unhappy family, I +chanced to see the doctor’s house in a new light. My father was ill; my +mother confined to his bedside; and I was suffered to go, under the +charge of our driver, to the lonely house some twenty miles away, where +our packages were left for us. The horse cast a shoe; night overtook us +halfway home; and it was well on for three in the morning when the driver +and I, alone in a light waggon, came to that part of the road which ran +below the doctor’s house. The moon swam clear; the cliffs and mountains +in this strong light lay utterly deserted; but the house, from its +station on the top of the long slope and close under the bluff, not only +shone abroad from every window like a place of festival, but from the +great chimney at the west end poured forth a coil of smoke so thick and +so voluminous, that it hung for miles along the windless night air, and +its shadow lay far abroad in the moonlight upon the glittering alkali. +As we continued to draw near, besides, a regular and panting throb began +to divide the silence. First it seemed to me like the beating of a +heart; and next it put into my mind the thought of some giant, smothered +under mountains and still, with incalculable effort, fetching breath. I +had heard of the railway, though I had not seen it, and I turned to ask +the driver if this resembled it. But some look in his eye, some pallor, +whether of fear or moonlight on his face, caused the words to die upon my +lips. We continued, therefore, to advance in silence, till we were close +below the lighted house; when suddenly, without one premonitory rustle, +there burst forth a report of such a bigness that it shook the earth and +set the echoes of the mountains thundering from cliff to cliff. A pillar +of amber flame leaped from the chimney-top and fell in multitudes of +sparks; and at the same time the lights in the windows turned for one +instant ruby red and then expired. The driver had checked his horse +instinctively, and the echoes were still rumbling farther off among the +mountains, when there broke from the now darkened interior a series of +yells—whether of man or woman it was impossible to guess—the door flew +open, and there ran forth into the moonlight, at the top of the long +slope, a figure clad in white, which began to dance and leap and throw +itself down, and roll as if in agony, before the house. I could no more +restrain my cries; the driver laid his lash about the horse’s flank, and +we fled up the rough track at the peril of our lives; and did not draw +rein till, turning the corner of the mountain, we beheld my father’s +ranch and deep, green groves and gardens, sleeping in the tranquil light. + +This was the one adventure of my life, until my father had climbed to the +very topmost point of material prosperity, and I myself had reached the +age of seventeen. I was still innocent and merry like a child; tended my +garden or ran upon the hills in glad simplicity; gave not a thought to +coquetry or to material cares; and if my eye rested on my own image in a +mirror or some sylvan spring, it was to seek and recognise the features +of my parents. But the fears which had long pressed on others were now +to be laid on my youth. I had thrown myself, one sultry, cloudy +afternoon, on a divan; the windows stood open on the verandah, where my +mother sat with her embroidery; and when my father joined her from the +garden, their conversation, clearly audible to me, was of so startling a +nature that it held me enthralled where I lay. + +‘The blow has come,’ my father said, after a long pause. + +I could hear my mother start and turn, but in words she made no reply. + +‘Yes,’ continued my father, ‘I have received to-day a list of all that I +possess; of all, I say; of what I have lent privately to men whose lips +are sealed with terror; of what I have buried with my own hand on the +bare mountain, when there was not a bird in heaven. Does the air, then, +carry secrets? Are the hills of glass? Do the stones we tread upon +preserve the footprint to betray us? Oh, Lucy, Lucy, that we should have +come to such a country!’ + +‘But this,’ returned my mother, ‘is no very new or very threatening +event. You are accused of some concealment. You will pay more taxes in +the future, and be mulcted in a fine. It is disquieting, indeed, to find +our acts so spied upon, and the most private known. But is this new? +Have we not long feared and suspected every blade of grass?’ + +‘Ay, and our shadows!’ cried my father. ‘But all this is nothing. Here +is the letter that accompanied the list.’ + +I heard my mother turn the pages, and she was some time silent. + +‘I see,’ she said at last; and then, with the tone of one reading: ‘“From +a believer so largely blessed by Providence with this world’s goods,”’ +she continued, ‘“the Church awaits in confidence some signal mark of +piety.” There lies the sting. Am I not right? These are the words you +fear?’ + +‘These are the words,’ replied my father. ‘Lucy, you remember Priestley? +Two days before he disappeared, he carried me to the summit of an +isolated butte; we could see around us for ten miles; sure, if in any +quarter of this land a man were safe from spies, it were in such a +station; but it was in the very ague-fit of terror that he told me, and +that I heard, his story. He had received a letter such as this; and he +submitted to my approval an answer, in which he offered to resign a third +of his possessions. I conjured him, as he valued life, to raise his +offering; and, before we parted, he had doubled the amount. Well, two +days later he was gone—gone from the chief street of the city in the hour +of noon—and gone for ever. O God!’ cried my father, ‘by what art do they +thus spirit out of life the solid body? What death do they command that +leaves no traces? that this material structure, these strong arms, this +skeleton that can resist the grave for centuries, should be thus reft in +a moment from the world of sense? A horror dwells in that thought more +awful than mere death.’ + +‘Is there no hope in Grierson?’ asked my mother. + +‘Dismiss the thought,’ replied my father. ‘He now knows all that I can +teach, and will do naught to save me. His power, besides, is small, his +own danger not improbably more imminent than mine; for he, too, lives +apart; he leaves his wives neglected and unwatched; he is openly cited +for an unbeliever; and unless he buys security at a more awful price—but +no; I will not believe it: I have no love for him, but I will not believe +it.’ + +‘Believe what?’ asked my mother; and then, with a change of note, ‘But +oh, what matters it?’ she cried. ‘Abimelech, there is but one way open: +we must fly!’ + +‘It is in vain,’ returned my father. ‘I should but involve you in my +fate. To leave this land is hopeless: we are closed in it as men are +closed in life; and there is no issue but the grave.’ + +‘We can but die then,’ replied my mother. ‘Let us at least die together. +Let not Asenath {43} and myself survive you. Think to what a fate we +should be doomed!’ + +My father was unable to resist her tender violence; and though I could +see he nourished not one spark of hope, he consented to desert his whole +estate, beyond some hundreds of dollars that he had by him at the moment, +and to flee that night, which promised to be dark and cloudy. As soon as +the servants were asleep, he was to load two mules with provisions; two +others were to carry my mother and myself; and, striking through the +mountains by an unfrequented trail, we were to make a fair stroke for +liberty and life. As soon as they had thus decided, I showed myself at +the window, and, owning that I had heard all, assured them that they +could rely on my prudence and devotion. I had no fear, indeed, but to +show myself unworthy of my birth; I held my life in my hand without +alarm; and when my father, weeping upon my neck, had blessed Heaven for +the courage of his child, it was with a sentiment of pride and some of +the joy that warriors take in war, that I began to look forward to the +perils of our flight. + +Before midnight, under an obscure and starless heaven, we had left far +behind us the plantations of the valley, and were mounting a certain +canyon in the hills, narrow, encumbered with great rocks, and echoing +with the roar of a tumultuous torrent. Cascade after cascade thundered +and hung up its flag of whiteness in the night, or fanned our faces with +the wet wind of its descent. The trail was breakneck, and led to +famine-guarded deserts; it had been long since deserted for more +practicable routes; and it was now a part of the world untrod from year +to year by human footing. Judge of our dismay, when turning suddenly an +angle of the cliffs, we found a bright bonfire blazing by itself under an +impending rock; and on the face of the rock, drawn very rudely with +charred wood, the great Open Eye which is the emblem of the Mormon faith. +We looked upon each other in the firelight; my mother broke into a +passion of tears; but not a word was said. The mules were turned about; +and leaving that great eye to guard the lonely canyon, we retraced our +steps in silence. Day had not yet broken ere we were once more at home, +condemned beyond reprieve. + +What answer my father sent I was not told; but two days later, a little +before sundown, I saw a plain, honest-looking man ride slowly up the road +in a great pother of dust. He was clad in homespun, with a broad straw +hat; wore a patriarchal beard; and had an air of a simple rustic farmer, +that was, in my eyes, very reassuring. He was, indeed, a very honest man +and pious Mormon; with no liking for his errand, though neither he nor +any one in Utah dared to disobey; and it was with every mark of +diffidence that he had had himself announced as Mr. Aspinwall, and +entered the room where our unhappy family was gathered. My mother and +me, he awkwardly enough dismissed; and as soon as he was alone with my +father laid before him a blank signature of President Young’s, and +offered him a choice of services: either to set out as a missionary to +the tribes about the White Sea, or to join the next day, with a party of +Destroying Angels, in the massacre of sixty German immigrants. The last, +of course, my father could not entertain, and the first he regarded as a +pretext: even if he could consent to leave his wife defenceless, and to +collect fresh victims for the tyranny under which he was himself +oppressed, he felt sure he would never be suffered to return. He refused +both; and Aspinwall, he said, betrayed sincere emotion, part religious, +at the spectacle of such disobedience, but part human, in pity for my +father and his family. He besought him to reconsider his decision; and +at length, finding he could not prevail, gave him till the moon rose to +settle his affairs, and say farewell to wife and daughter. ‘For,’ said +he, ‘then, at the latest, you must ride with me.’ + +I dare not dwell upon the hours that followed: they fled all too fast; +and presently the moon out-topped the eastern range, and my father and +Mr. Aspinwall set forth, side by side, on their nocturnal journey. My +mother, though still bearing an heroic countenance, had hastened to shut +herself in her apartment, thenceforward solitary; and I, alone in the +dark house, and consumed by grief and apprehension, made haste to saddle +my Indian pony, to ride up to the corner of the mountain, and to enjoy +one farewell sight of my departing father. The two men had set forth at +a deliberate pace; nor was I long behind them, when I reached the point +of view. I was the more amazed to see no moving creature in the +landscape. The moon, as the saying is, shone bright as day; and nowhere, +under the whole arch of night, was there a growing tree, a bush, a farm, +a patch of tillage, or any evidence of man, but one. From the corner +where I stood, a rugged bastion of the line of bluffs concealed the +doctor’s house; and across the top of that projection the soft night wind +carried and unwound about the hills a coil of sable smoke. What fuel +could produce a vapour so sluggish to dissipate in that dry air, or what +furnace pour it forth so copiously, I was unable to conceive; but I knew +well enough that it came from the doctor’s chimney; I saw well enough +that my father had already disappeared; and in despite of reason, I +connected in my mind the loss of that dear protector with the ribbon of +foul smoke that trailed along the mountains. + +Days passed, and still my mother and I waited in vain for news; a week +went by, a second followed, but we heard no word of the father and +husband. As smoke dissipates, as the image glides from the mirror, so in +the ten or twenty minutes that I had spent in getting my horse and +following upon his trail, had that strong and brave man vanished out of +life. Hope, if any hope we had, fled with every hour; the worst was now +certain for my father, the worst was to be dreaded for his defenceless +family. Without weakness, with a desperate calm at which I marvel when I +look back upon it, the widow and the orphan awaited the event. On the +last day of the third week we rose in the morning to find ourselves alone +in the house, alone, so far as we searched, on the estate; all our +attendants, with one accord, had fled: and as we knew them to be +gratefully devoted, we drew the darkest intimations from their flight. +The day passed, indeed, without event; but in the fall of the evening we +were called at last into the verandah by the approaching clink of horse’s +hoofs. + +The doctor, mounted on an Indian pony, rode into the garden, dismounted, +and saluted us. He seemed much more bent, and his hair more silvery than +ever; but his demeanour was composed, serious, and not unkind. + +‘Madam,’ said he, ‘I am come upon a weighty errand; and I would have you +recognise it as an effect of kindness in the President, that he should +send as his ambassador your only neighbour and your husband’s oldest +friend in Utah.’ + +‘Sir,’ said my mother, ‘I have but one concern, one thought. You know +well what it is. Speak: my husband?’ + +‘Madam,’ returned the doctor, taking a chair on the verandah, ‘if you +were a silly child, my position would now be painfully embarrassing. You +are, on the other hand, a woman of great intelligence and fortitude: you +have, by my forethought, been allowed three weeks to draw your own +conclusions and to accept the inevitable. Farther words from me are, I +conceive, superfluous.’ + +My mother was as pale as death, and trembled like a reed; I gave her my +hand, and she kept it in the folds of her dress and wrung it till I could +have cried aloud. ‘Then, sir,’ said she at last, ‘you speak to deaf +ears. If this be indeed so, what have I to do with errands? What do I +ask of Heaven but to die?’ + +‘Come,’ said the doctor, ‘command yourself. I bid you dismiss all +thoughts of your late husband, and bring a clear mind to bear upon your +own future and the fate of that young girl.’ + +‘You bid me dismiss—’ began my mother. ‘Then you know!’ she cried. + +‘I know,’ replied the doctor. + +‘You know?’ broke out the poor woman. ‘Then it was you who did the deed! +I tear off the mask, and with dread and loathing see you as you are—you, +whom the poor fugitive beholds in nightmares, and awakes raving—you, the +Destroying Angel!’ + +‘Well, madam, and what then?’ returned the doctor. ‘Have not my fate and +yours been similar? Are we not both immured in this strong prison of +Utah? Have you not tried to flee, and did not the Open Eye confront you +in the canyon? Who can escape the watch of that unsleeping eye of Utah? +Not I, at least. Horrible tasks have, indeed, been laid upon me; and the +most ungrateful was the last; but had I refused my offices, would that +have spared your husband? You know well it would not. I, too, had +perished along with him; nor would I have been able to alleviate his last +moments, nor could I to-day have stood between his family and the hand of +Brigham Young.’ + +‘Ah!’ cried I, ‘and could you purchase life by such concessions?’ + +‘Young lady,’ answered the doctor, ‘I both could and did; and you will +live to thank me for that baseness. You have a spirit, Asenath, that it +pleases me to recognise. But we waste time. Mr. Fonblanque’s estate +reverts, as you doubtless imagine, to the Church; but some part of it has +been reserved for him who is to marry the family; and that person, I +should perhaps tell you without more delay, is no other than myself.’ + +At this odious proposal my mother and I cried out aloud, and clung +together like lost souls. + +‘It is as I supposed,’ resumed the doctor, with the same measured +utterance. ‘You recoil from this arrangement. Do you expect me to +convince you? You know very well that I have never held the Mormon view +of women. Absorbed in the most arduous studies, I have left the +slatterns whom they call my wives to scratch and quarrel among +themselves; of me, they have had nothing but my purse; such was not the +union I desired, even if I had the leisure to pursue it. No: you need +not, madam, and my old friend’—and here the doctor rose and bowed with +something of gallantry—‘you need not apprehend my importunities. On the +contrary, I am rejoiced to read in you a Roman spirit; and if I am +obliged to bid you follow me at once, and that in the name, not of my +wish, but of my orders, I hope it will be found that we are of a common +mind.’ + +So, bidding us dress for the road, he took a lamp (for the night had now +fallen) and set off to the stable to prepare our horses. + +‘What does it mean?—what will become of us?’ I cried. + +‘Not that, at least,’ replied my mother, shuddering. ‘So far we can +trust him. I seem to read among his words a certain tragic promise. +Asenath, if I leave you, if I die, you will not forget your miserable +parents?’ + +Thereupon we fell to cross-purposes: I beseeching her to explain her +words; she putting me by, and continuing to recommend the doctor for a +friend. ‘The doctor!’ I cried at last; ‘the man who killed my father?’ + +‘Nay,’ said she, ‘let us be just. I do believe before, Heaven, he played +the friendliest part. And he alone, Asenath, can protect you in this +land of death.’ + +At this the doctor returned, leading our two horses; and when we were all +in the saddle, he bade me ride on before, as he had matter to discuss +with Mrs. Fonblanque. They came at a foot’s pace, eagerly conversing in +a whisper; and presently after the moon rose and showed them looking +eagerly in each other’s faces as they went, my mother laying her hand +upon the doctor’s arm, and the doctor himself, against his usual custom, +making vigorous gestures of protest or asseveration. + +At the foot of the track which ascended the talus of the mountain to his +door, the doctor overtook me at a trot. + +‘Here,’ he said, ‘we shall dismount; and as your mother prefers to be +alone, you and I shall walk together to my house.’ + +‘Shall I see her again?’ I asked. + +‘I give you my word,’ he said, and helped me to alight. ‘We leave the +horses here,’ he added. ‘There are no thieves in this stone wilderness.’ + +The track mounted gradually, keeping the house in view. The windows were +once more bright; the chimney once more vomited smoke; but the most +absolute silence reigned, and, but for the figure of my mother very +slowly following in our wake, I felt convinced there was no human soul +within a range of miles. At the thought, I looked upon the doctor, +gravely walking by my side, with his bowed shoulders and white hair, and +then once more at his house, lit up and pouring smoke like some +industrious factory. And then my curiosity broke forth. ‘In Heaven’s +name,’ I cried, ‘what do you make in this inhuman desert?’ + +He looked at me with a peculiar smile, and answered with an evasion— + +‘This is not the first time,’ said he, ‘that you have seen my furnaces +alight. One morning, in the small hours, I saw you driving past; a +delicate experiment miscarried; and I cannot acquit myself of having +startled either your driver or the horse that drew you.’ + +‘What!’ cried I, beholding again in fancy the antics of the figure, +‘could that be you?’ + +‘It was I,’ he replied; ‘but do not fancy that I was mad. I was in +agony. I had been scalded cruelly.’ + +We were now near the house, which, unlike the ordinary houses of the +country, was built of hewn stone and very solid. Stone, too, was its +foundation, stone its background. Not a blade of grass sprouted among +the broken mineral about the walls, not a flower adorned the windows. +Over the door, by way of sole adornment, the Mormon Eye was rudely +sculptured; I had been brought up to view that emblem from my childhood; +but since the night of our escape, it had acquired a new significance, +and set me shrinking. The smoke rolled voluminously from the chimney +top, its edges ruddy with the fire; and from the far corner of the +building, near the ground, angry puffs of steam shone snow-white in the +moon and vanished. + +The doctor opened the door and paused upon the threshold. ‘You ask me +what I make here,’ he observed. ‘Two things: Life and Death.’ And he +motioned me to enter. + +‘I shall await my mother,’ said I. + +‘Child,’ he replied, ‘look at me: am I not old and broken? Of us two, +which is the stronger, the young maiden or the withered man?’ + +I bowed, and passing by him, entered a vestibule or kitchen, lit by a +good fire and a shaded reading-lamp. It was furnished only with a +dresser, a rude table, and some wooden benches; and on one of these the +doctor motioned me to take a seat; and passing by another door into the +interior of the house, he left me to myself. Presently I heard the jar +of iron from the far end of the building; and this was followed by the +same throbbing noise that had startled me in the valley, but now so near +at hand as to be menacing by loudness, and even to shake the house with +every recurrence of the stroke. I had scarce time to master my alarm +when the doctor returned, and almost in the same moment my mother +appeared upon the threshold. But how am I to describe to you the peace +and ravishment of that face? Years seemed to have passed over her head +during that brief ride, and left her younger and fairer; her eyes shone, +her smile went to my heart; she seemed no more a woman but the angel of +ecstatic tenderness. I ran to her in a kind of terror; but she shrank a +little back and laid her finger on her lips, with something arch and yet +unearthly. To the doctor, on the contrary, she reached out her hand as +to a friend and helper; and so strange was the scene that I forgot to be +offended. + +‘Lucy,’ said the doctor, ‘all is prepared. Will you go alone, or shall +your daughter follow us?’ + +‘Let Asenath come,’ she answered, ‘dear Asenath! At this hour, when I am +purified of fear and sorrow, and already survive myself and my +affections, it is for your sake, and not for mine, that I desire her +presence. Were she shut out, dear friend, it is to be feared she might +misjudge your kindness.’ + +‘Mother,’ I cried wildly, ‘mother, what is this?’ + +But my mother, with her radiant smile, said only ‘Hush!’ as though I were +a child again, and tossing in some fever-fit; and the doctor bade me be +silent and trouble her no more. ‘You have made a choice,’ he continued, +addressing my mother, ‘that has often strangely tempted me. The two +extremes: all, or else nothing; never, or this very hour upon the +clock—these have been my incongruous desires. But to accept the middle +term, to be content with a half-gift, to flicker awhile and to burn +out—never for an hour, never since I was born, has satisfied the appetite +of my ambition.’ He looked upon my mother fixedly, much of admiration +and some touch of envy in his eyes; then, with a profound sigh, he led +the way into the inner room. + +It was very long. From end to end it was lit up by many lamps, which by +the changeful colour of their light, and by the incessant snapping sounds +with which they burned, I have since divined to be electric. At the +extreme end an open door gave us a glimpse into what must have been a +lean-to shed beside the chimney; and this, in strong contrast to the +room, was painted with a red reverberation as from furnace-doors. The +walls were lined with books and glazed cases, the tables crowded with the +implements of chemical research; great glass accumulators glittered in +the light; and through a hole in the gable near the shed door, a heavy +driving-belt entered the apartment and ran overhead upon steel pulleys, +with clumsy activity and many ghostly and fluttering sounds. In one +corner I perceived a chair resting upon crystal feet, and curiously +wreathed with wire. To this my mother advanced with a decisive +swiftness. + +‘Is this it?’ she asked. + +The doctor bowed in silence. + +‘Asenath,’ said my mother, ‘in this sad end of my life I have found one +helper. Look upon him: it is Doctor Grierson. Be not, oh my daughter, +be not ungrateful to that friend!’ + +She sate upon the chair, and took in her hands the globes that terminated +the arms. + +‘Am I right?’ she asked, and looked upon the doctor with such a radiancy +of face that I trembled for her reason. Once more the doctor bowed, but +this time leaning hard against the wall. He must have touched a spring. +The least shock agitated my mother where she sat; the least passing jar +appeared to cross her features; and she sank back in the chair like one +resigned to weariness. I was at her knees that moment; but her hands +fell loosely in my grasp; her face, still beatified with the same +touching smile, sank forward on her bosom: her spirit had for ever fled. + +I do not know how long may have elapsed before, raising for a moment my +tearful face, I met the doctor’s eyes. They rested upon mine with such a +depth of scrutiny, pity, and interest, that even from the freshness of my +sorrow, I was startled into attention. + +‘Enough,’ he said, ‘to lamentation. Your mother went to death as to a +bridal, dying where her husband died. It is time, Asenath, to think of +the survivors. Follow me to the next room.’ + +I followed him, like a person in a dream; he made me sit by the fire, he +gave me wine to drink; and then, pacing the stone floor, he thus began to +address me— + +‘You are now, my child, alone in the world, and under the immediate watch +of Brigham Young. It would be your lot, in ordinary circumstances, to +become the fiftieth bride of some ignoble elder, or by particular +fortune, as fortune is counted in this land, to find favour in the eyes +of the President himself. Such a fate for a girl like you were worse +than death; better to die as your mother died than to sink daily deeper +in the mire of this pit of woman’s degradation. But is escape +conceivable? Your father tried; and you beheld yourself with what +security his jailers acted, and how a dumb drawing on a rock was counted +a sufficient sentry over the avenues of freedom. Where your father +failed, will you be wiser or more fortunate? or are you, too, helpless in +the toils?’ + +I had followed his words with changing emotion, but now I believed I +understood. + +‘I see,’ I cried; ‘you judge me rightly. I must follow where my parents +led; and oh! I am not only willing, I am eager!’ + +‘No,’ replied the doctor, ‘not death for you. The flawed vessel we may +break, but not the perfect. No, your mother cherished a different hope, +and so do I. I see,’ he cried, ‘the girl develop to the completed woman, +the plan reach fulfilment, the promise—ay, outdone! I could not bear to +arrest so lively, so comely a process. It was your mother’s thought,’ he +added, with a change of tone, ‘that I should marry you myself.’ I fear I +must have shown a perfect horror of aversion from this fate, for he made +haste to quiet me. ‘Reassure yourself, Asenath,’ he resumed. ‘Old as I +am, I have not forgotten the tumultuous fancies of youth. I have passed +my days, indeed, in laboratories; but in all my vigils I have not +forgotten the tune of a young pulse. Age asks with timidity to be spared +intolerable pain; youth, taking fortune by the beard, demands joy like a +right. These things I have not forgotten; none, rather, has more keenly +felt, none more jealously considered them; I have but postponed them to +their day. See, then: you stand without support; the only friend left to +you, this old investigator, old in cunning, young in sympathy. Answer me +but one question: Are you free from the entanglement of what the world +calls love? Do you still command your heart and purposes? or are you +fallen in some bond-slavery of the eye and ear?’ + +I answered him in broken words; my heart, I think I must have told him, +lay with my dead parents. + +‘It is enough,’ he said. ‘It has been my fate to be called on often, too +often, for those services of which we spoke to-night; none in Utah could +carry them so well to a conclusion; hence there has fallen into my hands +a certain share of influence which I now lay at your service, partly for +the sake of my dead friends, your parents; partly for the interest I bear +you in your own right. I shall send you to England, to the great city of +London, there to await the bridegroom I have selected. He shall be a son +of mine, a young man suitable in age and not grossly deficient in that +quality of beauty that your years demand. Since your heart is free, you +may well pledge me the sole promise that I ask in return for much expense +and still more danger: to await the arrival of that bridegroom with the +delicacy of a wife.’ + +I sat awhile stunned. The doctor’s marriages, I remembered to have +heard, had been unfruitful; and this added perplexity to my distress. +But I was alone, as he had said, alone in that dark land; the thought of +escape, of any equal marriage, was already enough to revive in me some +dawn of hope; and in what words I know not, I accepted the proposal. + +He seemed more moved by my consent than I could reasonably have looked +for. ‘You shall see,’ he cried; ‘you shall judge for yourself.’ And +hurrying to the next room he returned with a small portrait somewhat +coarsely done in oils. It showed a man in the dress of nearly forty +years before, young indeed, but still recognisable to be the doctor. ‘Do +you like it?’ he asked. ‘That is myself when I was young. My—my boy +will be like that, like but nobler; with such health as angels might +condescend to envy; and a man of mind, Asenath, of commanding mind. That +should be a man, I think; that should be one among ten thousand. A man +like that—one to combine the passions of youth with the restraint, the +force, the dignity of age—one to fill all the parts and faculties, one to +be man’s epitome—say, will that not satisfy the needs of an ambitious +girl? Say, is not that enough?’ And as he held the picture close before +my eyes, his hands shook. + +I told him briefly I would ask no better, for I was transpierced with +this display of fatherly emotion; but even as I said the words, the most +insolent revolt surged through my arteries. I held him in horror, him, +his portrait, and his son; and had there been any choice but death or a +Mormon marriage, I declare before Heaven I had embraced it. + +‘It is well,’ he replied, ‘and I had rightly counted on your spirit. +Eat, then, for you have far to go.’ So saying, he set meat before me; +and while I was endeavouring to obey, he left the room and returned with +an armful of coarse raiment. ‘There,’ said he, ‘is your disguise. I +leave you to your toilet.’ + +The clothes had probably belonged to a somewhat lubberly boy of fifteen; +and they hung about me like a sack, and cruelly hampered my movements. +But what filled me with uncontrollable shudderings, was the problem of +their origin and the fate of the lad to whom they had belonged. I had +scarcely effected the exchange when the doctor returned, opened a back +window, helped me out into the narrow space between the house and the +overhanging bluffs, and showed me a ladder of iron footholds mortised in +the rock. ‘Mount,’ he said, ‘swiftly. When you are at the summit, walk, +so far as you are able, in the shadow of the smoke. The smoke will bring +you, sooner or later, to a canyon; follow that down, and you will find a +man with two horses. Him you will implicitly obey. And remember, +silence! That machinery, which I now put in motion for your service, may +by one word be turned against you. Go; Heaven prosper you!’ + +The ascent was easy. Arrived at the top of the cliff, I saw before me on +the other side a vast and gradual declivity of stone, lying bare to the +moon and the surrounding mountains. Nowhere was any vantage or +concealment; and knowing how these deserts were beset with spies, I made +haste to veil my movements under the blowing trail of smoke. Sometimes +it swam high, rising on the night wind, and I had no more substantial +curtain than its moon-thrown shadow; sometimes again it crawled upon the +earth, and I would walk in it, no higher than to my shoulders, like some +mountain fog. But, one way or another, the smoke of that ill-omened +furnace protected the first steps of my escape, and led me unobserved to +the canyon. + +There, sure enough, I found a taciturn and sombre man beside a pair of +saddle-horses; and thenceforward, all night long, we wandered in silence +by the most occult and dangerous paths among the mountains. A little +before the dayspring we took refuge in a wet and gusty cavern at the +bottom of a gorge; lay there all day concealed; and the next night, +before the glow had faded out of the west, resumed our wanderings. About +noon we stopped again, in a lawn upon a little river, where was a screen +of bushes; and here my guide, handing me a bundle from his pack, bade me +change my dress once more. The bundle contained clothing of my own, +taken from our house, with such necessaries as a comb and soap. I made +my toilet by the mirror of a quiet pool; and as I was so doing, and +smiling with some complacency to see myself restored to my own image, the +mountains rang with a scream of far more than human piercingness; and +while I still stood astonished, there sprang up and swiftly increased a +storm of the most awful and earth-rending sounds. Shall I own to you, +that I fell upon my face and shrieked? And yet this was but the overland +train winding among the near mountains: the very means of my salvation: +the strong wings that were to carry me from Utah! + +When I was dressed, the guide gave me a bag, which contained, he said, +both money and papers; and telling me that I was already over the borders +in the territory of Wyoming, bade me follow the stream until I reached +the railway station, half a mile below. ‘Here,’ he added, ‘is your +ticket as far as Council Bluffs. The East express will pass in a few +hours.’ With that, he took both horses, and, without further words or +any salutation, rode off by the way that we had come. + +Three hours afterwards, I was seated on the end platform of the train as +it swept eastward through the gorges and thundered in tunnels of the +mountain. The change of scene, the sense of escape, the still throbbing +terror of pursuit—above all, the astounding magic of my new conveyance, +kept me from any logical or melancholy thought. I had gone to the +doctor’s house two nights before prepared to die, prepared for worse than +death; what had passed, terrible although it was, looked almost bright +compared to my anticipations; and it was not till I had slept a full +night in the flying palace car, that I awoke to the sense of my +irreparable loss and to some reasonable alarm about the future. In this +mood, I examined the contents of the bag. It was well supplied with +gold; it contained tickets and complete directions for my journey as far +as Liverpool, and a long letter from the doctor, supplying me with a +fictitious name and story, recommending the most guarded silence, and +bidding me to await faithfully the coming of his son. All then had been +arranged beforehand: he had counted upon my consent, and what was tenfold +worse, upon my mother’s voluntary death. My horror of my only friend, my +aversion for this son who was to marry me, my revolt against the whole +current and conditions of my life, were now complete. I was sitting +stupefied by my distress and helplessness, when, to my joy, a very +pleasant lady offered me her conversation. I clutched at the relief; and +I was soon glibly telling her the story in the doctor’s letter: how I was +a Miss Gould, of Nevada City, going to England to an uncle, what money I +had, what family, my age, and so forth, until I had exhausted my +instructions, and, as the lady still continued to ply me with questions, +began to embroider on my own account. This soon carried one of my +inexperience beyond her depth; and I had already remarked a shadow on the +lady’s face, when a gentleman drew near and very civilly addressed me. + +‘Miss Gould, I believe?’ said he; and then, excusing himself to the lady +by the authority of my guardian, drew me to the fore platform of the +Pullman car. ‘Miss Gould,’ he said in my ear, ‘is it possible that you +suppose yourself in safety? Let me completely undeceive you. One more +such indiscretion and you return to Utah. And, in the meanwhile, if this +woman should again address you, you are to reply with these words: +“Madam, I do not like you, and I will be obliged if you will suffer me to +choose my own associates.”’ + +Alas, I had to do as I was bid; this lady, to whom I already felt myself +drawn with the strongest cords of sympathy, I dismissed with insult; and +thenceforward, through all that day, I sat in silence, gazing on the bare +plains and swallowing my tears. Let that suffice: it was the pattern of +my journey. Whether on the train, at the hotels, or on board the ocean +steamer, I never exchanged a friendly word with any fellow-traveller but +I was certain to be interrupted. In every place, on every side, the most +unlikely persons, man or woman, rich or poor, became protectors to +forward me upon my journey, or spies to observe and regulate my conduct. +Thus I crossed the States, thus passed the ocean, the Mormon Eye still +following my movements; and when at length a cab had set me down before +that London lodging-house from which you saw me flee this morning, I had +already ceased to struggle and ceased to hope. + +The landlady, like every one else through all that journey, was expecting +my arrival. A fire was lighted in my room, which looked upon the garden; +there were books on the table, clothes in the drawers; and there (I had +almost said with contentment, and certainly with resignation) I saw month +follow month over my head. At times my landlady took me for a walk or an +excursion, but she would never suffer me to leave the house alone; and I, +seeing that she also lived under the shadow of that widespread Mormon +terror, felt too much pity to resist. To the child born on Mormon soil, +as to the man who accepts the engagements of a secret order, no escape is +possible; so I had clearly read, and I was thankful even for this +respite. Meanwhile, I tried honestly to prepare my mind for my +approaching nuptials. The day drew near when my bridegroom was to visit +me, and gratitude and fear alike obliged me to consent. A son of Doctor +Grierson’s, be he what he pleased, must still be young, and it was even +probable he should be handsome; on more than that, I felt I dared not +reckon; and in moulding my mind towards consent I dwelt the more +carefully on these physical attractions which I felt I might expect, and +averted my eyes from moral or intellectual considerations. We have a +great power upon our spirits; and as time passed I worked myself into a +frame of acquiescence, nay, and I began to grow impatient for the hour. +At night sleep forsook me; I sat all day by the fire, absorbed in dreams, +conjuring up the features of my husband, and anticipating in fancy the +touch of his hand and the sound of his voice. In the dead level and +solitude of my existence, this was the one eastern window and the one +door of hope. At last, I had so cultivated and prepared my will, that I +began to be besieged with fears upon the other side. How if it was I +that did not please? How if this unseen lover should turn from me with +disaffection? And now I spent hours before the glass, studying and +judging my attractions, and was never weary of changing my dress or +ordering my hair. + +When the day came I was long about my toilet; but at last, with a sort of +hopeful desperation, I had to own that I could do no more, and must now +stand or fall by nature. My occupation ended, I fell a prey to the most +sickening impatience, mingled with alarms; giving ear to the swelling +rumour of the streets, and at each change of sound or silence, starting, +shrinking, and colouring to the brow. Love is not to be prepared, I +know, without some knowledge of the object; and yet, when the cab at last +rattled to the door and I heard my visitor mount the stairs, such was the +tumult of hopes in my poor bosom that love itself might have been proud +to own their parentage. The door opened, and it was Doctor Grierson that +appeared. I believe I must have screamed aloud, and I know, at least, +that I fell fainting to the floor. + +When I came to myself he was standing over me, counting my pulse. ‘I +have startled you,’ he said. ‘A difficulty unforeseen—the impossibility +of obtaining a certain drug in its full purity—has forced me to resort to +London unprepared. I regret that I should have shown myself once more +without those poor attractions which are much, perhaps, to you, but to me +are no more considerable than rain that falls into the sea. Youth is but +a state, as passing as that syncope from which you are but just awakened, +and, if there be truth in science, as easy to recall; for I find, +Asenath, that I must now take you for my confidant. Since my first +years, I have devoted every hour and act of life to one ambitious task; +and the time of my success is at hand. In these new countries, where I +was so long content to stay, I collected indispensable ingredients; I +have fortified myself on every side from the possibility of error; what +was a dream now takes the substance of reality; and when I offered you a +son of mine I did so in a figure. That son—that husband, Asenath, is +myself—not as you now behold me, but restored to the first energy of +youth. You think me mad? It is the customary attitude of ignorance. I +will not argue; I will leave facts to speak. When you behold me +purified, invigorated, renewed, restamped in the original image—when you +recognise in me (what I shall be) the first perfect expression of the +powers of mankind—I shall be able to laugh with a better grace at your +passing and natural incredulity. To what can you aspire—fame, riches, +power, the charm of youth, the dear-bought wisdom of age—that I shall not +be able to afford you in perfection? Do not deceive yourself. I already +excel you in every human gift but one: when that gift also has been +restored to me you will recognise your master.’ + +Hereupon, consulting his watch, he told me he must now leave me to +myself; and bidding me consult reason, and not girlish fancies, he +withdrew. I had not the courage to move; the night fell and found me +still where he had laid me during my faint, my face buried in my hands, +my soul drowned in the darkest apprehensions. Late in the evening he +returned, carrying a candle, and, with a certain irritable tremor, bade +me rise and sup. ‘Is it possible,’ he added, ‘that I have been deceived +in your courage? A cowardly girl is no fit mate for me.’ + +I flung myself before him on my knees, and with floods of tears besought +him to release me from this engagement, assuring him that my cowardice +was abject, and that in every point of intellect and character I was his +hopeless and derisible inferior. + +‘Why, certainly,’ he replied. ‘I know you better than yourself; and I am +well enough acquainted with human nature to understand this scene. It is +addressed to me,’ he added with a smile, ‘in my character of the still +untransformed. But do not alarm yourself about the future. Let me but +attain my end, and not you only, Asenath, but every woman on the face of +the earth becomes my willing slave.’ + +Thereupon he obliged me to rise and eat; sat down with me to table; +helped and entertained me with the attentions of a fashionable host; and +it was not till a late hour, that, bidding me courteously good-night, he +once more left me alone to my misery. + +In all this talk of an elixir and the restoration of his youth, I scarce +knew from which hypothesis I should the more eagerly recoil. If his +hopes reposed on any base of fact, if indeed, by some abhorrent miracle, +he should discard his age, death were my only refuge from that most +unnatural, that most ungodly union. If, on the other hand, these dreams +were merely lunatic, the madness of a life waxed suddenly acute, my pity +would become a load almost as heavy to bear as my revolt against the +marriage. So passed the night, in alternations of rebellion and despair, +of hate and pity; and with the next morning I was only to comprehend more +fully my enslaved position. For though he appeared with a very tranquil +countenance, he had no sooner observed the marks of grief upon my brow +than an answering darkness gathered on his own. ‘Asenath.’ he said, ‘you +owe me much already; with one finger I still hold you suspended over +death; my life is full of labour and anxiety; and I choose,’ said he, +with a remarkable accent of command, ‘that you shall greet me with a +pleasant face.’ He never needed to repeat the recommendation; from that +day forward I was always ready to receive him with apparent cheerfulness; +and he rewarded me with a good deal of his company, and almost more than +I could bear of his confidence. He had set up a laboratory in the back +part of the house, where he toiled day and night at his elixir, and he +would come thence to visit me in my parlour: now with passing humours of +discouragement; now, and far more often, radiant with hope. It was +impossible to see so much of him, and not to recognise that the sands of +his life were running low; and yet all the time he would be laying out +vast fields of future, and planning, with all the confidence of youth, +the most unbounded schemes of pleasure and ambition. How I replied I +know not; but I found a voice and words to answer, even while I wept and +raged to hear him. + +A week ago the doctor entered my room with the marks of great +exhilaration contending with pitiful bodily weakness. ‘Asenath,’ said +he, ‘I have now obtained the last ingredient. In one week from now the +perilous moment of the last projection will draw nigh. You have once +before assisted, although unconsciously, at the failure of a similar +experiment. It was the elixir which so terribly exploded one night when +you were passing my house; and it is idle to deny that the conduct of so +delicate a process, among the million jars and trepidations of so great a +city, presents a certain element of danger. From this point of view, I +cannot but regret the perfect stillness of my house among the deserts; +but, on the other hand, I have succeeded in proving that the singularly +unstable equilibrium of the elixir, at the moment of projection, is due +rather to the impurity than to the nature of the ingredients; and as all +are now of an equal and exquisite nicety, I have little fear for the +result. In a week then from to-day, my dear Asenath, this period of +trial will be ended.’ And he smiled upon me in a manner unusually +paternal. + +I smiled back with my lips, but at my heart there raged the blackest and +most unbridled terror. What if he failed? And oh, tenfold worse! what +if he succeeded? What detested and unnatural changeling would appear +before me to claim my hand? And could there, I asked myself with a +dreadful sinking, be any truth in his boasts of an assured victory over +my reluctance? I knew him, indeed, to be masterful, to lead my life at a +sign. Suppose, then, this experiment to succeed; suppose him to return +to me, hideously restored, like a vampire in a legend; and suppose that, +by some devilish fascination . . . My head turned; all former fears +deserted me: and I felt I could embrace the worst in preference to this. + +My mind was instantly made up. The doctor’s presence in London was +justified by the affairs of the Mormon polity. Often, in our +conversation, he would gloat over the details of that great organisation, +which he feared even while yet he wielded it; and would remind me, that +even in the humming labyrinth of London, we were still visible to that +unsleeping eye in Utah. His visitors, indeed, who were of every sort, +from the missionary to the destroying angel, and seemed to belong to +every rank of life, had, up to that moment, filled me with unmixed +repulsion and alarm. I knew that if my secret were to reach the ear of +any leader my fate were sealed beyond redemption; and yet in my present +pass of horror and despair, it was to these very men that I turned for +help. I waylaid upon the stair one of the Mormon missionaries, a man of +a low class, but not inaccessible to pity; told him I scarce remember +what elaborate fable to explain my application; and by his intermediacy +entered into correspondence with my father’s family. They recognised my +claim for help, and on this very day I was to begin my escape. + +Last night I sat up fully dressed, awaiting the result of the doctor’s +labours, and prepared against the worst. The nights at this season and +in this northern latitude are short; and I had soon the company of the +returning daylight. The silence in and around the house was only broken +by the movements of the doctor in the laboratory; to these I listened, +watch in hand, awaiting the hour of my escape, and yet consumed by +anxiety about the strange experiment that was going forward overhead. +Indeed, now that I was conscious of some protection for myself, my +sympathies had turned more directly to the doctor’s side; I caught myself +even praying for his success; and when some hours ago a low, peculiar cry +reached my ears from the laboratory, I could no longer control my +impatience, but mounted the stairs and opened the door. + +The doctor was standing in the middle of the room; in his hand a large, +round-bellied, crystal flask, some three parts full of a bright +amber-coloured liquid; on his face a rapture of gratitude and joy +unspeakable. As he saw me he raised the flask at arm’s length. +‘Victory!’ he cried. ‘Victory, Asenath!’ And then—whether the flask +escaped his trembling fingers, or whether the explosion were spontaneous, +I cannot tell—enough that we were thrown, I against the door-post, the +doctor into the corner of the room; enough that we were shaken to the +soul by the same explosion that must have startled you upon the street; +and that, in the brief space of an indistinguishable instant, there +remained nothing of the labours of the doctor’s lifetime but a few shards +of broken crystal and those voluminous and ill-smelling vapours that +pursued me in my flight. + + + + +_THE SQUIRE OF DAMES_ +(_Concluded_) + + +What with the lady’s animated manner and dramatic conduct of her voice, +Challoner had thrilled to every incident with genuine emotion. His +fancy, which was not perhaps of a very lively character, applauded both +the matter and the style; but the more judicial functions of his mind +refused assent. It was an excellent story; and it might be true, but he +believed it was not. Miss Fonblanque was a lady, and it was doubtless +possible for a lady to wander from the truth; but how was a gentleman to +tell her so? His spirits for some time had been sinking, but they now +fell to zero; and long after her voice had died away he still sat with a +troubled and averted countenance, and could find no form of words to +thank her for her narrative. His mind, indeed, was empty of everything +beyond a dull longing for escape. From this pause, which grew the more +embarrassing with every second, he was roused by the sudden laughter of +the lady. His vanity was alarmed; he turned and faced her; their eyes +met; and he caught from hers a spark of such frank merriment as put him +instantly at ease. + +‘You certainly,’ he said, ‘appear to bear your calamities with excellent +spirit.’ + +‘Do I not?’ she cried, and fell once more into delicious laughter. But +from this access she more speedily recovered. ‘This is all very well,’ +said she, nodding at him gravely, ‘but I am still in a most distressing +situation, from which, if you deny me your help, I shall find it +difficult indeed to free myself.’ + +At this mention of help Challoner fell back to his original gloom. + +‘My sympathies are much engaged with you,’ he said, ‘and I should be +delighted, I am sure. But our position is most unusual; and +circumstances over which I have, I can assure you, no control, deprive me +of the power—the pleasure—Unless, indeed,’ he added, somewhat brightening +at the thought, ‘I were to recommend you to the care of the police?’ + +She laid her hand upon his arm and looked hard into his eyes; and he saw +with wonder that, for the first time since the moment of their meeting, +every trace of colour had faded from her cheek. + +‘Do so,’ she said, ‘and—weigh my words well—you kill me as certainly as +with a knife.’ + +‘God bless me!’ exclaimed Challoner. + +‘Oh,’ she cried, ‘I can see you disbelieve my story and make light of the +perils that surround me; but who are you to judge? My family share my +apprehensions; they help me in secret; and you saw yourself by what an +emissary, and in what a place, they have chosen to supply me with the +funds for my escape. I admit that you are brave and clever and have +impressed me most favourably; but how are you to prefer your opinion +before that of my uncle, an ex-minister of state, a man with the ear of +the Queen, and of a long political experience? If I am mad, is he? And +you must allow me, besides, a special claim upon your help. Strange as +you may think my story, you know that much of it is true; and if you who +heard the explosion and saw the Mormon at Victoria, refuse to credit and +assist me, to whom am I to turn?’ + +‘He gave you money then?’ asked Challoner, who had been dwelling singly +on that fact. + +‘I begin to interest you,’ she cried. ‘But, frankly, you are condemned +to help me. If the service I had to ask of you were serious, were +suspicious, were even unusual, I should say no more. But what is it? To +take a pleasure trip (for which, if you will suffer me, I propose to pay) +and to carry from one lady to another a sum of money! What can be more +simple?’ + +‘Is the sum,’ asked Challoner, ‘considerable?’ + +She produced a packet from her bosom; and observing that she had not yet +found time to make the count, tore open the cover and spread upon her +knees a considerable number of Bank of England notes. It took some time +to make the reckoning, for the notes were of every degree of value; but +at last, and counting a few loose sovereigns, she made out the sum to be +a little under £710 sterling. The sight of so much money worked an +immediate revolution in the mind of Challoner. + +‘And you propose, madam,’ he cried, ‘to intrust that money to a perfect +stranger?’ + +‘Ah!’ said she, with a charming smile, ‘but I no longer regard you as a +stranger.’ + +‘Madam,’ said Challoner, ‘I perceive I must make you a confession. +Although of a very good family—through my mother, indeed, a lineal +descendant of the patriot Bruce—I dare not conceal from you that my +affairs are deeply, very deeply involved. I am in debt; my pockets are +practically empty; and, in short, I am fallen to that state when a +considerable sum of money would prove to many men an irresistible +temptation.’ + +‘Do you not see,’ returned the young lady, ‘that by these words you have +removed my last hesitation? Take them.’ And she thrust the notes into +the young man’s hand. + +He sat so long, holding them, like a baby at the font, that Miss +Fonblanque once more bubbled into laughter. + +‘Pray,’ she said, ‘hesitate no further; put them in your pocket; and to +relieve our position of any shadow of embarrassment, tell me by what name +I am to address my knight-errant, for I find myself reduced to the +awkwardness of the pronoun.’ + +Had borrowing been in question, the wisdom of our ancestors had come +lightly to the young man’s aid; but upon what pretext could he refuse so +generous a trust? Upon none he saw, that was not unpardonably wounding; +and the bright eyes and the high spirits of his companion had already +made a breach in the rampart of Challoner’s caution. The whole thing, he +reasoned, might be a mere mystification, which it were the height of +solemn folly to resent. On the other hand, the explosion, the interview +at the public-house, and the very money in his hands, seemed to prove +beyond denial the existence of some serious danger; and if that were so, +could he desert her? There was a choice of risks: the risk of behaving +with extraordinary incivility and unhandsomeness to a lady, and the risk +of going on a fool’s errand. The story seemed false; but then the money +was undeniable. The whole circumstances were questionable and obscure; +but the lady was charming, and had the speech and manners of society. +While he still hung in the wind, a recollection returned upon his mind +with some of the dignity of prophecy. Had he not promised Somerset to +break with the traditions of the commonplace, and to accept the first +adventure offered? Well, here was the adventure. + +He thrust the money into his pocket. + +‘My name is Challoner,’ said he. + +‘Mr. Challoner,’ she replied, ‘you have come very generously to my aid +when all was against me. Though I am myself a very humble person, my +family commands great interest; and I do not think you will repent this +handsome action.’ + +Challoner flushed with pleasure. + +‘I imagine that, perhaps, a consulship,’ she added, her eyes dwelling on +him with a judicial admiration, ‘a consulship in some great town or +capital—or else—But we waste time; let us set about the work of my +delivery.’ + +She took his arm with a frank confidence that went to his heart; and once +more laying by all serious thoughts, she entertained him, as they crossed +the park, with her agreeable gaiety of mind. Near the Marble Arch they +found a hansom, which rapidly conveyed them to the terminus at Euston +Square; and here, in the hotel, they sat down to an excellent breakfast. +The young lady’s first step was to call for writing materials and write, +upon one corner of the table, a hasty note; still, as she did so, +glancing with smiles at her companion. ‘Here,’ said she, ‘here is the +letter which will introduce you to my cousin.’ She began to fold the +paper. ‘My cousin, although I have never seen her, has the character of +a very charming woman and a recognised beauty; of that I know nothing, +but at least she has been very kind to me; so has my lord her father; so +have you—kinder than all—kinder than I can bear to think of.’ She said +this with unusual emotion; and, at the same time, sealed the envelope. +‘Ah!’ she cried, ‘I have shut my letter! It is not quite courteous; and +yet, as between friends, it is perhaps better so. I introduce you, after +all, into a family secret; and though you and I are already old comrades, +you are still unknown to my uncle. You go then to this address, Richard +Street, Glasgow; go, please, as soon as you arrive; and give this letter +with your own hands into those of Miss Fonblanque, for that is the name +by which she is to pass. When we next meet, you will tell me what you +think of her,’ she added, with a touch of the provocative. + +‘Ah,’ said Challoner, almost tenderly, ‘she can be nothing to me.’ + +‘You do not know,’ replied the young lady, with a sigh. ‘By-the-bye, I +had forgotten—it is very childish, and I am almost ashamed to mention +it—but when you see Miss Fonblanque, you will have to make yourself a +little ridiculous; and I am sure the part in no way suits you. We had +agreed upon a watchword. You will have to address an earl’s daughter in +these words: “_Nigger_, _nigger_, _never die_;” but reassure yourself,’ +she added, laughing, ‘for the fair patrician will at once finish the +quotation. Come now, say your lesson.’ + +‘“Nigger, nigger, never die,”’ repeated Challoner, with undisguised +reluctance. + +Miss Fonblanque went into fits of laughter. ‘Excellent,’ said she, ‘it +will be the most humorous scene.’ And she laughed again. + +‘And what will be the counterword?’ asked Challoner stiffly. + +‘I will not tell you till the last moment,’ said she; ‘for I perceive you +are growing too imperious.’ + +Breakfast over, she accompanied the young man to the platform, bought him +the _Graphic_, the _Athenæum_, and a paper-cutter, and stood on the step +conversing till the whistle sounded. Then she put her head into the +carriage. ‘_Black face and shining eye_!’ she whispered, and instantly +leaped down upon the platform, with a thrill of gay and musical laughter. +As the train steamed out of the great arch of glass, the sound of that +laughter still rang in the young man’s ears. + +Challoner’s position was too unusual to be long welcome to his mind. He +found himself projected the whole length of England, on a mission beset +with obscure and ridiculous circumstances, and yet, by the trust he had +accepted, irrevocably bound to persevere. How easy it appeared, in the +retrospect, to have refused the whole proposal, returned the money, and +gone forth again upon his own affairs, a free and happy man! And it was +now impossible: the enchantress who had held him with her eye had now +disappeared, taking his honour in pledge; and as she had failed to leave +him an address, he was denied even the inglorious safety of retreat. To +use the paper-knife, or even to read the periodicals with which she had +presented him, was to renew the bitterness of his remorse; and as he was +alone in the compartment, he passed the day staring at the landscape in +impotent repentance, and long before he was landed on the platform of St. +Enoch’s, had fallen to the lowest and coldest zones of self-contempt. + +As he was hungry, and elegant in his habits, he would have preferred to +dine and to remove the stains of travel; but the words of the young lady, +and his own impatient eagerness, would suffer no delay. In the late, +luminous, and lamp-starred dusk of the summer evening, he accordingly set +forward with brisk steps. + +The street to which he was directed had first seen the day in the +character of a row of small suburban villas on a hillside; but the +extension of the city had long since, and on every hand, surrounded it +with miles of streets. From the top of the hill a range of very tall +buildings, densely inhabited by the poorest classes of the population and +variegated by drying-poles from every second window, overplumbed the +villas and their little gardens like a sea-board cliff. But still, under +the grime of years of city smoke, these antiquated cottages, with their +venetian blinds and rural porticoes, retained a somewhat melancholy +savour of the past. + +The street when Challoner entered it was perfectly deserted. From hard +by, indeed, the sound of a thousand footfalls filled the ear; but in +Richard Street itself there was neither light nor sound of human +habitation. The appearance of the neighbourhood weighed heavily on the +mind of the young man; once more, as in the streets of London, he was +impressed with the sense of city deserts; and as he approached the number +indicated, and somewhat falteringly rang the bell, his heart sank within +him. + +The bell was ancient, like the house; it had a thin and garrulous note; +and it was some time before it ceased to sound from the rear quarters of +the building. Following upon this an inner door was stealthily opened, +and careful and catlike steps drew near along the hall. Challoner, +supposing he was to be instantly admitted, produced his letter, and, as +well as he was able, prepared a smiling face. To his indescribable +surprise, however, the footsteps ceased, and then, after a pause and with +the like stealthiness, withdrew once more, and died away in the interior +of the house. A second time the young man rang violently at the bell; a +second time, to his keen hearkening, a certain bustle of discreet footing +moved upon the hollow boards of the old villa; and again the fainthearted +garrison only drew near to retreat. The cup of the visitor’s endurance +was now full to overflowing; and, committing the whole family of +Fonblanque to every mood and shade of condemnation, he turned upon his +heel and redescended the steps. Perhaps the mover in the house was +watching from a window, and plucked up courage at the sight of this +desistance; or perhaps, where he lurked trembling in the back parts of +the villa, reason in its own right had conquered his alarms. Challoner, +at least, had scarce set foot upon the pavement when he was arrested by +the sound of the withdrawal of an inner bolt; one followed another, +rattling in their sockets; the key turned harshly in the lock; the door +opened; and there appeared upon the threshold a man of a very stalwart +figure in his shirt sleeves. He was a person neither of great manly +beauty nor of a refined exterior; he was not the man, in ordinary moods, +to attract the eyes of the observer; but as he now stood in the doorway, +he was marked so legibly with the extreme passion of terror that +Challoner stood wonder-struck. For a fraction of a minute they gazed +upon each other in silence; and then the man of the house, with ashen +lips and gasping voice, inquired the business of his visitor. Challoner +replied, in tones from which he strove to banish his surprise, that he +was the bearer of a letter to a certain Miss Fonblanque. At this name, +as at a talisman, the man fell back and impatiently invited him to enter; +and no sooner had the adventurer crossed the threshold, than the door was +closed behind him and his retreat cut off. + +It was already long past eight at night; and though the late twilight of +the north still lingered in the streets, in the passage it was already +groping dark. The man led Challoner directly to a parlour looking on the +garden to the back. Here he had apparently been supping; for by the +light of a tallow dip the table was seen to be covered with a napkin, and +set out with a quart of bottled ale and the heel of a Gouda cheese. The +room, on the other hand, was furnished with faded solidity, and the walls +were lined with scholarly and costly volumes in glazed cases. The house +must have been taken furnished; for it had no congruity with this man of +the shirt sleeves and the mean supper. As for the earl’s daughter, the +earl and the visionary consulships in foreign cities, they had long ago +begun to fade in Challoner’s imagination. Like Doctor Grierson and the +Mormon angels, they were plainly woven of the stuff of dreams. Not an +illusion remained to the knight-errant; not a hope was left him, but to +be speedily relieved from this disreputable business. + +The man had continued to regard his visitor with undisguised anxiety, and +began once more to press him for his errand. + +‘I am here,’ said Challoner, ‘simply to do a service between two ladies; +and I must ask you, without further delay, to summon Miss Fonblanque, +into whose hands alone I am authorised to deliver the letter that I +bear.’ + +A growing wonder began to mingle on the man’s face with the lines of +solicitude. ‘I am Miss Fonblanque,’ he said; and then, perceiving the +effect of this communication, ‘Good God!’ he cried, ‘what are you staring +at? I tell you, I am Miss Fonblanque.’ + +Seeing the speaker wore a chin-beard of considerable length, and the +remainder of his face was blue with shaving, Challoner could only suppose +himself the subject of a jest. He was no longer under the spell of the +young lady’s presence; and with men, and above all with his inferiors, he +was capable of some display of spirit. + +‘Sir,’ said he, pretty roundly, ‘I have put myself to great inconvenience +for persons of whom I know too little, and I begin to be weary of the +business. Either you shall immediately summon Miss Fonblanque, or I +leave this house and put myself under the direction of the police.’ + +‘This is horrible!’ exclaimed the man. ‘I declare before Heaven I am the +person meant, but how shall I convince you? It must have been Clara, I +perceive, that sent you on this errand—a madwoman, who jests with the +most deadly interests; and here we are incapable, perhaps, of an +agreement, and Heaven knows what may depend on our delay!’ + +He spoke with a really startling earnestness; and at the same time there +flashed upon the mind of Challoner the ridiculous jingle which was to +serve as password. ‘This may, perhaps, assist you,’ he said, and then, +with some embarrassment, ‘“Nigger, nigger, never die.”’ + +A light of relief broke upon the troubled countenance of the man with the +chin-beard. ‘“Black face and shining eye”—give me the letter,’ he +panted, in one gasp. + +‘Well,’ said Challoner, though still with some reluctance, ‘I suppose I +must regard you as the proper recipient; and though I may justly complain +of the spirit in which I have been treated, I am only too glad to be done +with all responsibility. Here it is,’ and he produced the envelope. + +The man leaped upon it like a beast, and with hands that trembled in a +manner painful to behold, tore it open and unfolded the letter. As he +read, terror seemed to mount upon him to the pitch of nightmare. He +struck one hand upon his brow, while with the other, as if unconsciously, +he crumpled the paper to a ball. ‘My gracious powers!’ he cried; and +then, dashing to the window, which stood open on the garden, he clapped +forth his head and shoulders, and whistled long and shrill. Challoner +fell back into a corner, and resolutely grasping his staff, prepared for +the most desperate events; but the thoughts of the man with the +chin-beard were far removed from violence. Turning again into the room, +and once more beholding his visitor, whom he appeared to have forgotten, +he fairly danced with trepidation. ‘Impossible!’ he cried. ‘Oh, quite +impossible! O Lord, I have lost my head.’ And then, once more striking +his hand upon his brow, ‘The money!’ he exclaimed. ‘Give me the money.’ + +‘My good friend,’ replied Challoner, ‘this is a very painful exhibition; +and until I see you reasonably master of yourself, I decline to proceed +with any business.’ + +‘You are quite right,’ said the man. ‘I am of a very nervous habit; a +long course of the dumb ague has undermined my constitution. But I know +you have money; it may be still the saving of me; and oh, dear young +gentleman, in pity’s name be expeditious!’ Challoner, sincerely uneasy +as he was, could scarce refrain from laughter; but he was himself in a +hurry to be gone, and without more delay produced the money. ‘You will +find the sum, I trust, correct,’ he observed ‘and let me ask you to give +me a receipt.’ + +But the man heeded him not. He seized the money, and disregarding the +sovereigns that rolled loose upon the floor, thrust the bundle of notes +into his pocket. + +‘A receipt,’ repeated Challoner, with some asperity. ‘I insist on a +receipt.’ + +‘Receipt?’ repeated the man, a little wildly. ‘A receipt? Immediately! +Await me here.’ + +Challoner, in reply, begged the gentleman to lose no unnecessary time, as +he was himself desirous of catching a particular train. + +‘Ah, by God, and so am I!’ exclaimed the man with the chin-beard; and +with that he was gone out of the room, and had rattled upstairs, four at +a time, to the upper story of the villa. + +‘This is certainly a most amazing business,’ thought Challoner; +‘certainly a most disquieting affair; and I cannot conceal from myself +that I have become mixed up with either lunatics or malefactors. I may +truly thank my stars that I am so nearly and so creditably done with it.’ +Thus thinking, and perhaps remembering the episode of the whistle, he +turned to the open window. The garden was still faintly clear; he could +distinguish the stairs and terraces with which the small domain had been +adorned by former owners, and the blackened bushes and dead trees that +had once afforded shelter to the country birds; beyond these he saw the +strong retaining wall, some thirty feet in height, which enclosed the +garden to the back; and again above that, the pile of dingy buildings +rearing its frontage high into the night. A peculiar object lying +stretched upon the lawn for some time baffled his eyesight; but at length +he had made it out to be a long ladder, or series of ladders bound into +one; and he was still wondering of what service so great an instrument +could be in such a scant enclosure, when he was recalled to himself by +the noise of some one running violently down the stairs. This was +followed by the sudden, clamorous banging of the house door; and that +again, by rapid and retreating footsteps in the street. + +Challoner sprang into the passage. He ran from room to room, upstairs +and downstairs; and in that old dingy and worm-eaten house, he found +himself alone. Only in one apartment, looking to the front, were there +any traces of the late inhabitant: a bed that had been recently slept in +and not made, a chest of drawers disordered by a hasty search, and on the +floor a roll of crumpled paper. This he picked up. The light in this +upper story looking to the front was considerably brighter than in the +parlour; and he was able to make out that the paper bore the mark of the +hotel at Euston, and even, by peering closely, to decipher the following +lines in a very elegant and careful female hand: + + ‘DEAR M‘GUIRE,—It is certain your retreat is known. We have just had + another failure, clockwork thirty hours too soon, with the usual + humiliating result. Zero is quite disheartened. We are all + scattered, and I could find no one but the _solemn ass_ who brings + you this and the money. I would love to see your meeting.—Ever + yours, + + SHINING EYE.’ + +Challoner was stricken to the heart. He perceived by what facility, by +what unmanly fear of ridicule, he had been brought down to be the gull of +this intriguer; and his wrath flowed forth in almost equal measure +against himself, against the woman, and against Somerset, whose idle +counsels had impelled him to embark on that adventure. At the same time +a great and troubled curiosity, and a certain chill of fear, possessed +his spirit. The conduct of the man with the chin-beard, the terms of the +letter, and the explosion of the early morning, fitted together like +parts in some obscure and mischievous imbroglio. Evil was certainly +afoot; evil, secrecy, terror, and falsehood were the conditions and the +passions of the people among whom he had begun to move, like a blind +puppet; and he who began as a puppet, his experience told him, was often +doomed to perish as a victim. + +From the stupor of deep thought into which he had glided with the letter +in his hand, he was awakened by the clatter of the bell. He glanced from +the window; and, conceive his horror and surprise when he beheld, +clustered on the steps, in the front garden and on the pavement of the +street, a formidable posse of police! He started to the full possession +of his powers and courage. Escape, and escape at any cost, was the one +idea that possessed him. Swiftly and silently he redescended the +creaking stairs; he was already in the passage when a second and more +imperious summons from the door awoke the echoes of the empty house; nor +had the bell ceased to jangle before he had bestridden the window-sill of +the parlour and was lowering himself into the garden. His coat was +hooked upon the iron flower-basket; for a moment he hung dependent heels +and head below; and then, with the noise of rending cloth, and followed +by several pots, he dropped upon the sod. Once more the bell was rung, +and now with furious and repeated peals. The desperate Challoner turned +his eyes on every side. They fell upon the ladder, and he ran to it, and +with strenuous but unavailing effort sought to raise it from the ground. +Suddenly the weight, which was thus resisting his whole strength, began +to lighten in his hands; the ladder, like a thing of life, reared its +bulk from off the sod; and Challoner, leaping back with a cry of almost +superstitious terror, beheld the whole structure mount, foot by foot, +against the face of the retaining wall. At the same time, two heads were +dimly visible above the parapet, and he was hailed by a guarded whistle. +Something in its modulation recalled, like an echo, the whistle of the +man with the chin-beard. + +Had he chanced upon a means of escape prepared beforehand by those very +miscreants whose messenger and gull he had become? Was this, indeed, a +means of safety, or but the starting-point of further complication and +disaster? He paused not to reflect. Scarce was the ladder reared to its +full length than he had sprung already on the rounds; hand over hand, +swift as an ape, he scaled the tottering stairway. Strong arms received, +embraced, and helped him; he was lifted and set once more upon the earth; +and with the spasm of his alarm yet unsubsided, found himself in the +company of two rough-looking men, in the paved back yard of one of the +tall houses that crowned the summit of the hill. Meanwhile, from below, +the note of the bell had been succeeded by the sound of vigorous and +redoubling blows. + +‘Are you all out?’ asked one of his companions; and, as soon as he had +babbled an answer in the affirmative, the rope was cut from the top +round, and the ladder thrust roughly back into the garden, where it fell +and broke with clattering reverberations. Its fall was hailed with many +broken cries; for the whole of Richard Street was now in high emotion, +the people crowding to the windows or clambering on the garden walls. +The same man who had already addressed Challoner seized him by the arm; +whisked him through the basement of the house and across the street upon +the other side; and before the unfortunate adventurer had time to realise +his situation, a door was opened, and he was thrust into a low and dark +compartment. + +‘Bedad,’ observed his guide, ‘there was no time to lose. Is M’Guire +gone, or was it you that whistled? + +‘M’Guire is gone,’ said Challoner. + +The guide now struck a light. ‘Ah,’ said he, ‘this will never do. You +dare not go upon the streets in such a figure. Wait quietly here and I +will bring you something decent.’ + +With that the man was gone, and Challoner, his attention thus rudely +awakened, began ruefully to consider the havoc that had been worked in +his attire. His hat was gone; his trousers were cruelly ripped; and the +best part of one tail of his very elegant frockcoat had been left hanging +from the iron crockets of the window. He had scarce had time to measure +these disasters when his host re-entered the apartment and proceeded, +without a word, to envelop the refined and urbane Challoner in a long +ulster of the cheapest material, and of a pattern so gross and vulgar +that his spirit sickened at the sight. This calumnious disguise was +crowned and completed by a soft felt hat of the Tyrolese design, and +several sizes too small. At another moment Challoner would simply have +refused to issue forth upon the world thus travestied; but the desire to +escape from Glasgow was now too strongly and too exclusively impressed +upon his mind. With one haggard glance at the spotted tails of his new +coat, he inquired what was to pay for this accoutrement. The man assured +him that the whole expense was easily met from funds in his possession, +and begged him, instead of wasting time, to make his best speed out of +the neighbourhood. + +The young man was not loath to take the hint. True to his usual +courtesy, he thanked the speaker and complimented him upon his taste in +greatcoats; and leaving the man somewhat abashed by these remarks and the +manner of their delivery, he hurried forth into the lamplit city. The +last train was gone ere, after many deviations, he had reached the +terminus. Attired as he was he dared not present himself at any +reputable inn; and he felt keenly that the unassuming dignity of his +demeanour would serve to attract attention, perhaps mirth and possibly +suspicion, in any humbler hostelry. He was thus condemned to pass the +solemn and uneventful hours of a whole night in pacing the streets of +Glasgow; supperless; a figure of fun for all beholders; waiting the dawn, +with hope indeed, but with unconquerable shrinkings; and above all +things, filled with a profound sense of the folly and weakness of his +conduct. It may be conceived with what curses he assailed the memory of +the fair narrator of Hyde Park; her parting laughter rang in his ears all +night with damning mockery and iteration; and when he could spare a +thought from this chief artificer of his confusion, it was to expend his +wrath on Somerset and the career of the amateur detective. With the +coming of day, he found in a shy milk-shop the means to appease his +hunger. There were still many hours to wait before the departure of the +South express; these he passed wandering with indescribable fatigue in +the obscurer by-streets of the city; and at length slipped quietly into +the station and took his place in the darkest corner of a third-class +carriage. Here, all day long, he jolted on the bare boards, distressed +by heat and continually reawakened from uneasy slumbers. By the half +return ticket in his purse, he was entitled to make the journey on the +easy cushions and with the ample space of the first-class; but alas! in +his absurd attire, he durst not, for decency, commingle with his equals; +and this small annoyance, coming last in such a series of disasters, cut +him to the heart. + +That night, when, in his Putney lodging, he reviewed the expense, +anxiety, and weariness of his adventure; when he beheld the ruins of his +last good trousers and his last presentable coat; and above all, when his +eye by any chance alighted on the Tyrolese hat or the degrading ulster, +his heart would overflow with bitterness, and it was only by a serious +call on his philosophy that he maintained the dignity of his demeanour. + + + + +SOMERSET’S ADVENTURE + + +_THE SUPERFLUOUS MANSION_ + + +Mr. Paul Somerset was a young gentleman of a lively and fiery +imagination, with very small capacity for action. He was one who lived +exclusively in dreams and in the future: the creature of his own +theories, and an actor in his own romances. From the cigar divan he +proceeded to parade the streets, still heated with the fire of his +eloquence, and scouting upon every side for the offer of some fortunate +adventure. In the continual stream of passers-by, on the sealed fronts +of houses, on the posters that covered the hoardings, and in every +lineament and throb of the great city, he saw a mysterious and hopeful +hieroglyph. But although the elements of adventure were streaming by him +as thick as drops of water in the Thames, it was in vain that, now with a +beseeching, now with something of a braggadocio air, he courted and +provoked the notice of the passengers; in vain that, putting fortune to +the touch, he even thrust himself into the way and came into direct +collision with those of the more promising demeanour. Persons brimful of +secrets, persons pining for affection, persons perishing for lack of help +or counsel, he was sure he could perceive on every side; but by some +contrariety of fortune, each passed upon his way without remarking the +young gentleman, and went farther (surely to fare worse!) in quest of the +confidant, the friend, or the adviser. To thousands he must have turned +an appealing countenance, and yet not one regarded him. + +A light dinner, eaten to the accompaniment of his impetuous aspirations, +broke in upon the series of his attempts on fortune; and when he returned +to the task, the lamps were already lighted, and the nocturnal crowd was +dense upon the pavement. Before a certain restaurant, whose name will +readily occur to any student of our Babylon, people were already packed +so closely that passage had grown difficult; and Somerset, standing in +the kennel, watched, with a hope that was beginning to grow somewhat +weary, the faces and the manners of the crowd. Suddenly he was startled +by a gentle touch upon the shoulder, and facing about, he was aware of a +very plain and elegant brougham, drawn by a pair of powerful horses, and +driven by a man in sober livery. There were no arms upon the panel; the +window was open, but the interior was obscure; the driver yawned behind +his palm; and the young man was already beginning to suppose himself the +dupe of his own fancy, when a hand, no larger than a child’s and smoothly +gloved in white, appeared in a corner of the window and privily beckoned +him to approach. He did so, and looked in. The carriage was occupied by +a single small and very dainty figure, swathed head and shoulders in +impenetrable folds of white lace; and a voice, speaking low and silvery, +addressed him in these words— + +‘Open the door and get in.’ + +‘It must be,’ thought the young man with an almost unbearable thrill, ‘it +must be that duchess at last!’ Yet, although the moment was one to which +he had long looked forward, it was with a certain share of alarm that he +opened the door, and, mounting into the brougham, took his seat beside +the lady of the lace. Whether or no she had touched a spring, or given +some other signal, the young man had hardly closed the door before the +carriage, with considerable swiftness, and with a very luxurious and easy +movement on its springs, turned and began to drive towards the west. + +Somerset, as I have written, was not unprepared; it had long been his +particular pleasure to rehearse his conduct in the most unlikely +situations; and this, among others, of the patrician ravisher, was one he +had familiarly studied. Strange as it may seem, however, he could find +no apposite remark; and as the lady, on her side, vouchsafed no further +sign, they continued to drive in silence through the streets. Except for +alternate flashes from the passing lamps, the carriage was plunged in +obscurity; and beyond the fact that the fittings were luxurious, and that +the lady was singularly small and slender in person, and, all but one +gloved hand, still swathed in her costly veil, the young man could +decipher no detail of an inspiring nature. The suspense began to grow +unbearable. Twice he cleared his throat, and twice the whole resources +of the language failed him. In similar scenes, when he had forecast them +on the theatre of fancy, his presence of mind had always been complete, +his eloquence remarkable; and at this disparity between the rehearsal and +the performance, he began to be seized with a panic of apprehension. +Here, on the very threshold of adventure, suppose him ignominiously to +fail; suppose that after ten, twenty, or sixty seconds of still +uninterrupted silence, the lady should touch the check-string and +re-deposit him, weighed and found wanting, on the common street! +Thousands of persons of no mind at all, he reasoned, would be found more +equal to the part; could, that very instant, by some decisive step, prove +the lady’s choice to have been well inspired, and put a stop to this +intolerable silence. + +His eye, at this point, lighted on the hand. It was better to fall by +desperate councils than to continue as he was; and with one tremulous +swoop he pounced on the gloved fingers and drew them to himself. One +overt step, it had appeared to him, would dissolve the spell of his +embarrassment; in act, he found it otherwise: he found himself no less +incapable of speech or further progress; and with the lady’s hand in his, +sat helpless. But worse was in store. A peculiar quivering began to +agitate the form of his companion; the hand that lay unresistingly in +Somerset’s trembled as with ague; and presently there broke forth, in the +shadow of the carriage, the bubbling and musical sound of laughter, +resisted but triumphant. The young man dropped his prize; had it been +possible, he would have bounded from the carriage. The lady, meanwhile, +lying back upon the cushions, passed on from trill to trill of the most +heartfelt, high-pitched, clear and fairy-sounding merriment. + +‘You must not be offended,’ she said at last, catching an opportunity +between two paroxysms. ‘If you have been mistaken in the warmth of your +attentions, the fault is solely mine; it does not flow from your +presumption, but from my eccentric manner of recruiting friends; and, +believe me, I am the last person in the world to think the worse of a +young man for showing spirit. As for to-night, it is my intention to +entertain you to a little supper; and if I shall continue to be as much +pleased with your manners as I was taken with your face, I may perhaps +end by making you an advantageous offer.’ + +Somerset sought in vain to find some form of answer, but his discomfiture +had been too recent and complete. + +‘Come,’ returned the lady, ‘we must have no display of temper; that is +for me the one disqualifying fault; and as I perceive we are drawing near +our destination, I shall ask you to descend and offer me your arm.’ + +Indeed, at that very moment the carriage drew up before a stately and +severe mansion in a spacious square; and Somerset, who was possessed of +an excellent temper, with the best grace in the world assisted the lady +to alight. The door was opened by an old woman of a grim appearance, who +ushered the pair into a dining-room somewhat dimly lighted, but already +laid for supper, and occupied by a prodigious company of large and +valuable cats. Here, as soon as they were alone, the lady divested +herself of the lace in which she was enfolded; and Somerset was relieved +to find, that although still bearing the traces of great beauty, and +still distinguished by the fire and colour of her eye, her hair was of a +silvery whiteness and her face lined with years. + +‘And now, _mon preux_,’ said the old lady, nodding at him with a quaint +gaiety, ‘you perceive that I am no longer in my first youth. You will +soon find that I am all the better company for that.’ + +As she spoke, the maid re-entered the apartment with a light but tasteful +supper. They sat down, accordingly, to table, the cats with savage +pantomime surrounding the old lady’s chair; and what with the excellence +of the meal and the gaiety of his entertainer, Somerset was soon +completely at his ease. When they had well eaten and drunk, the old lady +leaned back in her chair, and taking a cat upon her lap, subjected her +guest to a prolonged but evidently mirthful scrutiny. + +‘I fear, madam,’ said Somerset, ‘that my manners have not risen to the +height of your preconceived opinion.’ + +‘My dear young man,’ she replied, ‘you were never more mistaken in your +life. I find you charming, and you may very well have lighted on a fairy +godmother. I am not one of those who are given to change their opinions, +and short of substantial demerit, those who have once gained my favour +continue to enjoy it; but I have a singular swiftness of decision, read +my fellow men and women with a glance, and have acted throughout life on +first impressions. Yours, as I tell you, has been favourable; and if, as +I suppose, you are a young fellow of somewhat idle habits, I think it not +improbable that we may strike a bargain.’ + +‘Ah, madam,’ returned Somerset, ‘you have divined my situation. I am a +man of birth, parts, and breeding; excellent company, or at least so I +find myself; but by a peculiar iniquity of fate, destitute alike of trade +or money. I was, indeed, this evening upon the quest of an adventure, +resolved to close with any offer of interest, emolument, or pleasure; and +your summons, which I profess I am still at some loss to understand, +jumped naturally with the inclination of my mind. Call it, if you will, +impudence; I am here, at least, prepared for any proposition you can find +it in your heart to make, and resolutely determined to accept.’ + +‘You express yourself very well,’ replied the old lady, ‘and are +certainly a droll and curious young man. I should not care to affirm +that you were sane, for I have never found any one entirely so besides +myself; but at least the nature of your madness entertains me, and I will +reward you with some description of my character and life.’ + +Thereupon the old lady, still fondling the cat upon her lap, proceeded to +narrate the following particulars. + + + +_NARRATIVE OF THE SPIRITED OLD LADY_ + + +I was the eldest daughter of the Reverend Bernard Fanshawe, who held a +valuable living in the diocese of Bath and Wells. Our family, a very +large one, was noted for a sprightly and incisive wit, and came of a good +old stock where beauty was an heirloom. In Christian grace of character +we were unhappily deficient. From my earliest years I saw and deplored +the defects of those relatives whose age and position should have enabled +them to conquer my esteem; and while I was yet a child, my father married +a second wife, in whom (strange to say) the Fanshawe failings were +exaggerated to a monstrous and almost laughable degree. Whatever may be +said against me, it cannot be denied I was a pattern daughter; but it was +in vain that, with the most touching patience, I submitted to my +stepmother’s demands; and from the hour she entered my father’s house, I +may say that I met with nothing but injustice and ingratitude. + +I stood not alone, however, in the sweetness of my disposition; for one +other of the family besides myself was free from any violence of +character. Before I had reached the age of sixteen, this cousin, John by +name, had conceived for me a sincere but silent passion; and although the +poor lad was too timid to hint at the nature of his feelings, I had soon +divined and begun to share them. For some days I pondered on the odd +situation created for me by the bashfulness of my admirer; and at length, +perceiving that he began, in his distress, rather to avoid than seek my +company, I determined to take the matter into my own hands. Finding him +alone in a retired part of the rectory garden, I told him that I had +divined his amiable secret, that I knew with what disfavour our union was +sure to be regarded; and that, under the circumstances, I was prepared to +flee with him at once. Poor John was literally paralysed with joy; such +was the force of his emotions, that he could find no words in which to +thank me; and that I, seeing him thus helpless, was obliged to arrange, +myself, the details of our flight, and of the stolen marriage which was +immediately to crown it. John had been at that time projecting a visit +to the metropolis. In this I bade him persevere, and promised on the +following day to join him at the Tavistock Hotel. + +True, on my side, to every detail of our arrangement, I arose, on the day +in question, before the servants, packed a few necessaries in a bag, took +with me the little money I possessed, and bade farewell for ever to the +rectory. I walked with good spirits to a town some thirty miles from +home, and was set down the next morning in this great city of London. As +I walked from the coach-office to the hotel, I could not help exulting in +the pleasant change that had befallen me; beholding, meanwhile, with +innocent delight, the traffic of the streets, and depicting, in all the +colours of fancy, the reception that awaited me from John. But alas! +when I inquired for Mr. Fanshawe, the porter assured me there was no such +gentleman among the guests. By what channel our secret had leaked out, +or what pressure had been brought to bear on the too facile John, I could +never fathom. Enough that my family had triumphed; that I found myself +alone in London, tender in years, smarting under the most sensible +mortification, and by every sentiment of pride and self-respect debarred +for ever from my father’s house. + +I rose under the blow, and found lodgings in the neighbourhood of Euston +Road, where, for the first time in my life, I tasted the joys of +independence. Three days afterwards, an advertisement in the _Times_ +directed me to the office of a solicitor whom I knew to be in my father’s +confidence. There I was given the promise of a very moderate allowance, +and a distinct intimation that I must never look to be received at home. +I could not but resent so cruel a desertion, and I told the lawyer it was +a meeting I desired as little as themselves. He smiled at my courageous +spirit, paid me the first quarter of my income, and gave me the remainder +of my personal effects, which had been sent to me, under his care, in a +couple of rather ponderous boxes. With these I returned in triumph to my +lodgings, more content with my position than I should have thought +possible a week before, and fully determined to make the best of the +future. + +All went well for several months; and, indeed, it was my own fault alone +that ended this pleasant and secluded episode of life. I have, I must +confess, the fatal trick of spoiling my inferiors. My landlady, to whom +I had as usual been overkind, impertinently called me in fault for some +particular too small to mention; and I, annoyed that I had allowed her +the freedom upon which she thus presumed, ordered her to leave my +presence. She stood a moment dumb, and then, recalling her +self-possession, ‘Your bill,’ said she, ‘shall be ready this evening, and +to-morrow, madam, you shall leave my house. See,’ she added, ‘that you +are able to pay what you owe me; for if I do not receive the uttermost +farthing, no box of yours shall pass my threshold.’ + +I was confounded at her audacity, but as a whole quarter’s income was due +to me, not otherwise affected by the threat. That afternoon, as I left +the solicitor’s door, carrying in one hand, and done up in a paper +parcel, the whole amount of my fortune, there befell me one of those +decisive incidents that sometimes shape a life. The lawyer’s office was +situate in a street that opened at the upper end upon the Strand, and was +closed at the lower, at the time of which I speak, by a row of iron +railings looking on the Thames. Down this street, then, I beheld my +stepmother advancing to meet me, and doubtless bound to the very house I +had just left. She was attended by a maid whose face was new to me, but +her own was too clearly printed on my memory; and the sight of it, even +from a distance, filled me with generous indignation. Flight was +impossible. There was nothing left but to retreat against the railing, +and with my back turned to the street, pretend to be admiring the barges +on the river or the chimneys of transpontine London. + +I was still so standing, and had not yet fully mastered the turbulence of +my emotions, when a voice at my elbow addressed me with a trivial +question. It was the maid whom my stepmother, with characteristic +hardness, had left to await her on the street, while she transacted her +business with the family solicitor. The girl did not know who I was; the +opportunity too golden to be lost; and I was soon hearing the latest news +of my father’s rectory and parish. It did not surprise me to find that +she detested her employers; and yet the terms in which she spoke of them +were hard to bear, hard to let pass unchallenged. I heard them, however, +without dissent, for my self-command is wonderful; and we might have +parted as we met, had she not proceeded, in an evil hour, to criticise +the rector’s missing daughter, and with the most shocking perversions, to +narrate the story of her flight. My nature is so essentially generous +that I can never pause to reason. I flung up my hand sharply, by way, as +well as I remember, of indignant protest; and, in the act, the packet +slipped from my fingers, glanced between the railings, and fell and sunk +in the river. I stood a moment petrified, and then, struck by the +drollery of the incident, gave way to peals of laughter. I was still +laughing when my stepmother reappeared, and the maid, who doubtless +considered me insane, ran off to join her; nor had I yet recovered my +gravity when I presented myself before the lawyer to solicit a fresh +advance. His answer made me serious enough, for it was a flat refusal; +and it was not until I had besought him even with tears, that he +consented to lend me ten pounds from his own pocket. ‘I am a poor man,’ +said he, ‘and you must look for nothing farther at my hands.’ + +The landlady met me at the door. ‘Here, madam,’ said she, with a curtsey +insolently low, ‘here is my bill. Would it inconvenience you to settle +it at once?’ + +‘You shall be paid, madam,’ said I, ‘in the morning, in the proper +course.’ And I took the paper with a very high air, but inwardly +quaking. + +I had no sooner looked at it than I perceived myself to be lost. I had +been short of money and had allowed my debt to mount; and it had now +reached the sum, which I shall never forget, of twelve pounds thirteen +and fourpence halfpenny. All evening I sat by the fire considering my +situation. I could not pay the bill; my landlady would not suffer me to +remove my boxes; and without either baggage or money, how was I to find +another lodging? For three months, unless I could invent some remedy, I +was condemned to be without a roof and without a penny. It can surprise +no one that I decided on immediate flight; but even here I was confronted +by a difficulty, for I had no sooner packed my boxes than I found I was +not strong enough to move, far less to carry them. + +In this strait I did not hesitate a moment, but throwing on a shawl and +bonnet, and covering my face with a thick veil, I betook myself to that +great bazaar of dangerous and smiling chances, the pavement of the city. +It was already late at night, and the weather being wet and windy, there +were few abroad besides policemen. These, on my present mission, I had +wit enough to know for enemies; and wherever I perceived their moving +lanterns, I made haste to turn aside and choose another thoroughfare. A +few miserable women still walked the pavement; here and there were young +fellows returning drunk, or ruffians of the lowest class lurking in the +mouths of alleys; but of any one to whom I might appeal in my distress, I +began almost to despair. + +At last, at the corner of a street, I ran into the arms of one who was +evidently a gentleman, and who, in all his appointments, from his furred +great-coat to the fine cigar which he was smoking, comfortably breathed +of wealth. Much as my face has changed from its original beauty, I still +retain (or so I tell myself) some traces of the youthful lightness of my +figure. Even veiled as I then was, I could perceive the gentleman was +struck by my appearance: and this emboldened me for my adventure. + +‘Sir,’ said I, with a quickly beating heart, ‘sir, are you one in whom a +lady can confide?’ + +‘Why, my dear,’ said he, removing his cigar, ‘that depends on +circumstances. If you will raise your veil—’ + +‘Sir,’ I interrupted, ‘let there be no mistake. I ask you, as a +gentleman, to serve me, but I offer no reward.’ + +‘That is frank,’ said he; ‘but hardly tempting. And what, may I inquire, +is the nature of the service?’ + +But I knew well enough it was not my interest to tell him on so short an +interview. ‘If you will accompany me,’ said I, ‘to a house not far from +here, you can see for yourself.’ + +He looked at me awhile with hesitating eyes; and then, tossing away his +cigar, which was not yet a quarter smoked, ‘Here goes!’ said he, and with +perfect politeness offered me his arm. I was wise enough to take it; to +prolong our walk as far as possible, by more than one excursion from the +shortest line; and to beguile the way with that sort of conversation +which should prove to him indubitably from what station in society I +sprang. By the time we reached the door of my lodging, I felt sure I had +confirmed his interest, and might venture, before I turned the pass-key, +to beseech him to moderate his voice and to tread softly. He promised to +obey me: and I admitted him into the passage and thence into my +sitting-room, which was fortunately next the door. + +‘And now,’ said he, when with trembling fingers I had lighted a candle, +‘what is the meaning of all this?’ + +‘I wish you,’ said I, speaking with great difficulty, ‘to help me out +with these boxes—and I wish nobody to know.’ + +He took up the candle. ‘And I wish to see your face,’ said he. + +I turned back my veil without a word, and looked at him with every +appearance of resolve that I could summon up. For some time he gazed +into my face, still holding up the candle. ‘Well,’ said he at last, ‘and +where do you wish them taken?’ + +I knew that I had gained my point; and it was with a tremor in my voice +that I replied. ‘I had thought we might carry them between us to the +corner of Euston Road,’ said I, ‘where, even at this late hour, we may +still find a cab.’ + +‘Very good,’ was his reply; and he immediately hoisted the heavier of my +trunks upon his shoulder, and taking one handle of the second, signed to +me to help him at the other end. In this order we made good our retreat +from the house, and without the least adventure, drew pretty near to the +corner of Euston Road. Before a house, where there was a light still +burning, my companion paused. ‘Let us here,’ said he, ‘set down our +boxes, while we go forward to the end of the street in quest of a cab. +By doing so, we can still keep an eye upon their safety, and we avoid the +very extraordinary figure we should otherwise present—a young man, a +young lady, and a mass of baggage, standing castaway at midnight on the +streets of London.’ So it was done, and the event proved him to be wise; +for long before there was any word of a cab, a policeman appeared upon +the scene, turned upon us the full glare of his lantern, and hung +suspiciously behind us in a doorway. + +‘There seem to be no cabs about, policeman,’ said my champion, with +affected cheerfulness. But the constable’s answer was ungracious; and as +for the offer of a cigar, with which this rebuff was most unwisely +followed up, he refused it point-blank, and without the least civility. +The young gentleman looked at me with a warning grimace, and there we +continued to stand, on the edge of the pavement, in the beating rain, and +with the policeman still silently watching our movements from the +doorway. + +At last, and after a delay that seemed interminable, a four-wheeler +appeared lumbering along in the mud, and was instantly hailed by my +companion. ‘Just pull up here, will you?’ he cried. ‘We have some +baggage up the street.’ + +And now came the hitch of our adventure; for when the policeman, still +closely following us, beheld my two boxes lying in the rain, he arose +from mere suspicion to a kind of certitude of something evil. The light +in the house had been extinguished; the whole frontage of the street was +dark; there was nothing to explain the presence of these unguarded +trunks; and no two innocent people were ever, I believe, detected in such +questionable circumstances. + +‘Where have these things come from?’ asked the policeman, flashing his +light full into my champion’s face. + +‘Why, from that house, of course,’ replied the young gentleman, hastily +shouldering a trunk. + +The policeman whistled and turned to look at the dark windows; he then +took a step towards the door, as though to knock, a course which had +infallibly proved our ruin; but seeing us already hurrying down the +street under our double burthen, thought better or worse of it, and +followed in our wake. + +‘For God’s sake,’ whispered my companion, ‘tell me where to drive to.’ + +‘Anywhere,’ I replied with anguish. ‘I have no idea. Anywhere you +like.’ + +Thus it befell that, when the boxes had been stowed, and I had already +entered the cab, my deliverer called out in clear tones the address of +the house in which we are now seated. The policeman, I could see, was +staggered. This neighbourhood, so retired, so aristocratic, was far from +what he had expected. For all that, he took the number of the cab, and +spoke for a few seconds and with a decided manner in the cabman’s ear. + +‘What can he have said?’ I gasped, as soon as the cab had rolled away. + +‘I can very well imagine,’ replied my champion; ‘and I can assure you +that you are now condemned to go where I have said; for, should we +attempt to change our destination by the way, the jarvey will drive us +straight to a police-office. Let me compliment you on your nerves,’ he +added. ‘I have had, I believe, the most horrible fright of my +existence.’ + +But my nerves, which he so much misjudged, were in so strange a disarray +that speech was now become impossible; and we made the drive +thenceforward in unbroken silence. When we arrived before the door of +our destination, the young gentleman alighted, opened it with a pass-key +like one who was at home, bade the driver carry the trunks into the hall, +and dismissed him with a handsome fee. He then led me into this +dining-room, looking nearly as you behold it, but with certain marks of +bachelor occupancy, and hastened to pour out a glass of wine, which he +insisted on my drinking. As soon as I could find my voice, ‘In God’s +name,’ I cried, ‘where am I?’ + +He told me I was in his house, where I was very welcome, and had no more +urgent business than to rest myself and recover my spirits. As he spoke +he offered me another glass of wine, of which, indeed, I stood in great +want, for I was faint, and inclined to be hysterical. Then he sat down +beside the fire, lit another cigar, and for some time observed me +curiously in silence. + +‘And now,’ said he, ‘that you have somewhat restored yourself, will you +be kind enough to tell me in what sort of crime I have become a partner? +Are you murderer, smuggler, thief, or only the harmless and domestic +moonlight flitter?’ + +I had been already shocked by his lighting a cigar without permission, +for I had not forgotten the one he threw away on our first meeting; and +now, at these explicit insults, I resolved at once to reconquer his +esteem. The judgment of the world I have consistently despised, but I +had already begun to set a certain value on the good opinion of my +entertainer. Beginning with a note of pathos, but soon brightening into +my habitual vivacity and humour, I rapidly narrated the circumstances of +my birth, my flight, and subsequent misfortunes. He heard me to an end +in silence, gravely smoking. ‘Miss Fanshawe,’ said he, when I had done, +‘you are a very comical and most enchanting creature; and I can see +nothing for it but that I should return to-morrow morning and satisfy +your landlady’s demands.’ + +‘You strangely misinterpret my confidence,’ was my reply; ‘and if you had +at all appreciated my character, you would understand that I can take no +money at your hands.’ + +‘Your landlady will doubtless not be so particular,’ he returned; ‘nor do +I at all despair of persuading even your unconquerable self. I desire +you to examine me with critical indulgence. My name is Henry Luxmore, +Lord Southwark’s second son. I possess nine thousand a year, the house +in which we are now sitting, and seven others in the best neighbourhoods +in town. I do not believe I am repulsive to the eye, and as for my +character, you have seen me under trial. I think you simply the most +original of created beings; I need not tell you what you know very well, +that you are ravishingly pretty; and I have nothing more to add, except +that, foolish as it may appear, I am already head over heels in love with +you.’ + +‘Sir,’ said I, ‘I am prepared to be misjudged; but while I continue to +accept your hospitality that fact alone should be enough to protect me +from insult.’ + +‘Pardon me,’ said he: ‘I offer you marriage.’ And leaning back in his +chair he replaced his cigar between his lips. + +I own I was confounded by an offer, not only so unprepared, but couched +in terms so singular. But he knew very well how to obtain his purposes, +for he was not only handsome in person, but his very coolness had a +charm; and to make a long story short, a fortnight later I became the +wife of the Honourable Henry Luxmore. + +For nearly twenty years I now led a life of almost perfect quiet. My +Henry had his weaknesses; I was twice driven to flee from his roof, but +not for long; for though he was easily over-excited, his nature was +placable below the surface, and with all his faults, I loved him +tenderly. At last he was taken from me; and such is the power of +self-deception, and so strange are the whims of the dying, he actually +assured me, with his latest breath, that he forgave the violence of my +temper! + +There was but one pledge of the marriage, my daughter Clara. She had, +indeed, inherited a shadow of her father’s failing; but in all things +else, unless my partial eyes deceived me, she derived her qualities from +me, and might be called my moral image. On my side, whatever else I may +have done amiss, as a mother I was above reproach. Here, then, was +surely every promise for the future; here, at last, was a relation in +which I might hope to taste repose. But it was not to be. You will +hardly credit me when I inform you that she ran away from home; yet such +was the case. Some whim about oppressed nationalities—Ireland, Poland, +and the like—has turned her brain; and if you should anywhere encounter a +young lady (I must say, of remarkable attractions) answering to the name +of Luxmore, Lake, or Fonblanque (for I am told she uses these +indifferently, as well as many others), tell her, from me, that I forgive +her cruelty, and though I will never more behold her face, I am at any +time prepared to make her a liberal allowance. + +On the death of Mr. Luxmore, I sought oblivion in the details of +business. I believe I have mentioned that seven mansions, besides this, +formed part of Mr. Luxmore’s property: I have found them seven white +elephants. The greed of tenants, the dishonesty of solicitors, and the +incapacity that sits upon the bench, have combined together to make these +houses the burthen of my life. I had no sooner, indeed, begun to look +into these matters for myself, than I discovered so many injustices and +met with so much studied incivility, that I was plunged into a long +series of lawsuits, some of which are pending to this day. You must have +heard my name already; I am the Mrs. Luxmore of the Law Reports: a +strange destiny, indeed, for one born with an almost cowardly desire for +peace! But I am of the stamp of those who, when they have once begun a +task, will rather die than leave their duty unfulfilled. I have met with +every obstacle: insolence and ingratitude from my own lawyers; in my +adversaries, that fault of obstinacy which is to me perhaps the most +distasteful in the calendar; from the bench, civility indeed—always, I +must allow, civility—but never a spark of independence, never that +knowledge of the law and love of justice which we have a right to look +for in a judge, the most august of human officers. And still, against +all these odds, I have undissuadably persevered. + +It was after the loss of one of my innumerable cases (a subject on which +I will not dwell) that it occurred to me to make a melancholy pilgrimage +to my various houses. Four were at that time tenantless and closed, like +pillars of salt, commemorating the corruption of the age and the decline +of private virtue. Three were occupied by persons who had wearied me by +every conceivable unjust demand and legal subterfuge—persons whom, at +that very hour, I was moving heaven and earth to turn into the street. +This was perhaps the sadder spectacle of the two; and my heart grew hot +within me to behold them occupying, in my very teeth, and with an +insolent ostentation, these handsome structures which were as much mine +as the flesh upon my body. + +One more house remained for me to visit, that in which we now are. I had +let it (for at that period I lodged in a hotel, the life that I have +always preferred) to a Colonel Geraldine, a gentleman attached to Prince +Florizel of Bohemia, whom you must certainly have heard of; and I had +supposed, from the character and position of my tenant, that here, at +least, I was safe against annoyance. What was my surprise to find this +house also shuttered and apparently deserted! I will not deny that I was +offended; I conceived that a house, like a yacht, was better to be kept +in commission; and I promised myself to bring the matter before my +solicitor the following morning. Meanwhile the sight recalled my fancy +naturally to the past; and yielding to the tender influence of sentiment, +I sat down opposite the door upon the garden parapet. It was August, and +a sultry afternoon, but that spot is sheltered, as you may observe by +daylight, under the branches of a spreading chestnut; the square, too, +was deserted; there was a sound of distant music in the air; and all +combined to plunge me into that most agreeable of states, which is +neither happiness nor sorrow, but shares the poignancy of both. + +From this I was recalled by the arrival of a large van, very handsomely +appointed, drawn by valuable horses, mounted by several men of an +appearance more than decent, and bearing on its panels, instead of a +trader’s name, a coat-of-arms too modest to be deciphered from where I +sat. It drew up before my house, the door of which was immediately +opened by one of the men. His companions—I counted seven of them in +all—proceeded, with disciplined activity, to take from the van and carry +into the house a variety of hampers, bottle-baskets, and boxes, such as +are designed for plate and napery. The windows of the dining-room were +thrown widely open, as though to air it; and I saw some of those within +laying the table for a meal. Plainly, I concluded, my tenant was about +to return; and while still determined to submit to no aggression on my +rights, I was gratified by the number and discipline of his attendants, +and the quiet profusion that appeared to reign in his establishment. I +was still so thinking when, to my extreme surprise, the windows and +shutters of the dining-room were once more closed; the men began to +reappear from the interior and resume their stations on the van; the last +closed the door behind his exit; the van drove away; and the house was +once more left to itself, looking blindly on the square with shuttered +windows, as though the whole affair had been a vision. + +It was no vision, however; for, as I rose to my feet, and thus brought my +eyes a little nearer to the level of the fanlight over the door, I saw +that, though the day had still some hours to run, the hall lamps had been +lighted and left burning. Plainly, then, guests were expected, and were +not expected before night. For whom, I asked myself with indignation, +were such secret preparations likely to be made? Although no prude, I am +a woman of decided views upon morality; if my house, to which my husband +had brought me, was to serve in the character of a _petite maison_, I saw +myself forced, however unwillingly, into a new course of litigation; and, +determined to return and know the worst, I hastened to my hotel for +dinner. + +I was at my post by ten. The night was clear and quiet; the moon rode +very high and put the lamps to shame; and the shadow below the chestnut +was black as ink. Here, then, I ensconced myself on the low parapet, +with my back against the railings, face to face with the moonlit front of +my old home, and ruminating gently on the past. Time fled; eleven struck +on all the city clocks; and presently after I was aware of the approach +of a gentleman of stately and agreeable demeanour. He was smoking as he +walked; his light paletôt, which was open, did not conceal his evening +clothes; and he bore himself with a serious grace that immediately +awakened my attention. Before the door of this house he took a pass-key +from his pocket, quietly admitted himself, and disappeared into the +lamplit hall. + +He was scarcely gone when I observed another and a much younger man +approaching hastily from the opposite side of the square. Considering +the season of the year and the genial mildness of the night, he was +somewhat closely muffled up; and as he came, for all his hurry, he kept +looking nervously behind him. Arrived before my door, he halted and set +one foot upon the step, as though about to enter; then, with a sudden +change, he turned and began to hurry away; halted a second time, as if in +painful indecision; and lastly, with a violent gesture, wheeled about, +returned straight to the door, and rapped upon the knocker. He was +almost immediately admitted by the first arrival. + +My curiosity was now broad awake. I made myself as small as I could in +the very densest of the shadow, and waited for the sequel. Nor had I +long to wait. From the same side of the square a second young man made +his appearance, walking slowly and softly, and like the first, muffled to +the nose. Before the house he paused, looked all about him with a swift +and comprehensive glance; and seeing the square lie empty in the moon and +lamplight, leaned far across the area railings and appeared to listen to +what was passing in the house. From the dining-room there came the +report of a champagne cork, and following upon that, the sound of rich +and manly laughter. The listener took heart of grace, produced a key, +unlocked the area gate, shut it noiselessly behind him, and descended the +stair. Just when his head had reached the level of the pavement, he +turned half round and once more raked the square with a suspicious +eyeshot. The mufflings had fallen lower round his neck; the moon shone +full upon him; and I was startled to observe the pallor and passionate +agitation of his face. + +I could remain no longer passive. Persuaded that something deadly was +afoot, I crossed the roadway and drew near the area railings. There was +no one below; the man must therefore have entered the house, with what +purpose I dreaded to imagine. I have at no part of my career lacked +courage; and now, finding the area gate was merely laid to, I pushed it +gently open and descended the stairs. The kitchen door of the house, +like the area gate, was closed but not fastened. It flashed upon me that +the criminal was thus preparing his escape; and the thought, as it +confirmed the worst of my suspicions, lent me new resolve. I entered the +house; and being now quite reckless of my life, I shut and locked the +door. + +From the dining-room above I could hear the pleasant tones of a voice in +easy conversation. On the ground floor all was not only profoundly +silent, but the darkness seemed to weigh upon my eyes. Here, then, I +stood for some time, having thrust myself uncalled into the utmost peril, +and being destitute of any power to help or interfere. Nor will I deny +that fear had begun already to assail me, when I became aware, all at +once and as though by some immediate but silent incandescence, of a +certain glimmering of light upon the passage floor. Towards this I +groped my way with infinite precaution; and having come at length as far +as the angle of the corridor, beheld the door of the butler’s pantry +standing just ajar and a narrow thread of brightness falling from the +chink. Creeping still closer, I put my eye to the aperture. The man sat +within upon a chair, listening, I could see, with the most rapt +attention. On a table before him he had laid a watch, a pair of steel +revolvers, and a bull’s-eye lantern. For one second many contradictory +theories and projects whirled together in my head; the next, I had +slammed the door and turned the key upon the malefactor. Surprised at my +own decision, I stood and panted, leaning on the wall. From within the +pantry not a sound was to be heard; the man, whatever he was, had +accepted his fate without a struggle, and now, as I hugged myself to +fancy, sat frozen with terror and looking for the worst to follow. I +promised myself that he should not be disappointed; and the better to +complete my task, I turned to ascend the stairs. + +The situation, as I groped my way to the first floor, appealed to me +suddenly by my strong sense of humour. Here was I, the owner of the +house, burglariously present in its walls; and there, in the dining-room, +were two gentlemen, unknown to me, seated complacently at supper, and +only saved by my promptitude from some surprising or deadly interruption. +It were strange if I could not manage to extract the matter of amusement +from so unusual a situation. + +Behind this dining-room, there is a small apartment intended for a +library. It was to this that I cautiously groped my way; and you will +see how fortune had exactly served me. The weather, I have said, was +sultry; in order to ventilate the dining-room and yet preserve the +uninhabited appearance of the mansion to the front, the window of the +library had been widely opened, and the door of communication between the +two apartments left ajar. To this interval I now applied my eye. + +Wax tapers, set in silver candlesticks, shed their chastened brightness +on the damask of the tablecloth and the remains of a cold collation of +the rarest delicacy. The two gentlemen had finished supper, and were now +trifling with cigars and maraschino; while in a silver spirit lamp, +coffee of the most captivating fragrance was preparing in the fashion of +the East. The elder of the two, he who had first arrived, was placed +directly facing me; the other was set on his left hand. Both, like the +man in the butler’s pantry, seemed to be intently listening; and on the +face of the second I thought I could perceive the marks of fear. Oddly +enough, however, when they came to speak, the parts were found to be +reversed. + +‘I assure you,’ said the elder gentleman, ‘I not only heard the slamming +of a door, but the sound of very guarded footsteps.’ + +‘Your highness was certainly deceived,’ replied the other. ‘I am endowed +with the acutest hearing, and I can swear that not a mouse has rustled.’ +Yet the pallor and contraction of his features were in total discord with +the tenor of his words. + +His highness (whom, of course, I readily divined to be Prince Florizel) +looked at his companion for the least fraction of a second; and though +nothing shook the easy quiet of his attitude, I could see that he was far +from being duped. ‘It is well,’ said he; ‘let us dismiss the topic. And +now, sir, that I have very freely explained the sentiments by which I am +directed, let me ask you, according to your promise, to imitate my +frankness.’ + +‘I have heard you,’ replied the other, ‘with great interest.’ + +‘With singular patience,’ said the prince politely. + +‘Ay, your highness, and with unlooked-for sympathy,’ returned the young +man. ‘I know not how to tell the change that has befallen me. You have, +I must suppose, a charm, to which even your enemies are subject.’ He +looked at the clock on the mantelpiece and visibly blanched. ‘So late!’ +he cried. ‘Your highness—God knows I am now speaking from the +heart—before it be too late, leave this house!’ + +The prince glanced once more at his companion, and then very deliberately +shook the ash from his cigar. ‘That is a strange remark,’ said he; ‘and +_á propos de bottes_, I never continue a cigar when once the ash is +fallen; the spell breaks, the soul of the flavour flies away, and there +remains but the dead body of tobacco; and I make it a rule to throw away +that husk and choose another.’ He suited the action to the words. + +‘Do not trifle with my appeal,’ resumed the young man, in tones that +trembled with emotion. ‘It is made at the price of my honour and to the +peril of my life. Go—go now! lose not a moment; and if you have any +kindness for a young man, miserably deceived indeed, but not devoid of +better sentiments, look not behind you as you leave.’ + +‘Sir,’ said the prince, ‘I am here upon your honour; assure you upon mine +that I shall continue to rely upon that safeguard. The coffee is ready; +I must again trouble you, I fear.’ And with a courteous movement of the +hand, he seemed to invite his companion to pour out the coffee. + +The unhappy young man rose from his seat. ‘I appeal to you,’ he cried, +‘by every holy sentiment, in mercy to me, if not in pity to yourself, +begone before it is too late.’ + +‘Sir,’ replied the prince, ‘I am not readily accessible to fear; and if +there is one defect to which I must plead guilty, it is that of a curious +disposition. You go the wrong way about to make me leave this house, in +which I play the part of your entertainer; and, suffer me to add, young +man, if any peril threaten us, it was of your contriving, not of mine.’ + +‘Alas, you do not know to what you condemn me,’ cried the other. ‘But I +at least will have no hand in it.’ With these words he carried his hand +to his pocket, hastily swallowed the contents of a phial, and, with the +very act, reeled back and fell across his chair upon the floor. The +prince left his place and came and stood above him, where he lay +convulsed upon the carpet. ‘Poor moth!’ I heard his highness murmur. +‘Alas, poor moth! must we again inquire which is the more fatal—weakness +or wickedness? And can a sympathy with ideas, surely not ignoble in +themselves, conduct a man to this dishonourable death?’ + +By this time I had pushed the door open and walked into the room. ‘Your +highness,’ said I, ‘this is no time for moralising; with a little +promptness we may save this creature’s life; and as for the other, he +need cause you no concern, for I have him safely under lock and key.’ + +The prince had turned about upon my entrance, and regarded me certainly +with no alarm, but with a profundity of wonder which almost robbed me of +my self-possession. ‘My dear madam,’ he cried at last, ‘and who the +devil are you?’ + +I was already on the floor beside the dying man. I had, of course, no +idea with what drug he had attempted his life, and I was forced to try +him with a variety of antidotes. Here were both oil and vinegar, for the +prince had done the young man the honour of compounding for him one of +his celebrated salads; and of each of these I administered from a quarter +to half a pint, with no apparent efficacy. I next plied him with the hot +coffee, of which there may have been near upon a quart. + +‘Have you no milk?’ I inquired. + +‘I fear, madam, that milk has been omitted,’ returned the prince. + +‘Salt, then,’ said I; ‘salt is a revulsive. Pass the salt.’ + +‘And possibly the mustard?’ asked his highness, as he offered me the +contents of the various salt-cellars poured together on a plate. + +‘Ah,’ cried I, ‘the thought is excellent! Mix me about half a pint of +mustard, drinkably dilute.’ + +Whether it was the salt or the mustard, or the mere combination of so +many subversive agents, as soon as the last had been poured over his +throat, the young sufferer obtained relief. + +‘There!’ I exclaimed, with natural triumph, ‘I have saved a life!’ + +‘And yet, madam,’ returned the prince, ‘your mercy may be cruelty +disguised. Where the honour is lost, it is, at least, superfluous to +prolong the life.’ + +‘If you had led a life as changeable as mine, your highness,’ I replied, +‘you would hold a very different opinion. For my part, and after +whatever extremity of misfortune or disgrace, I should still count +to-morrow worth a trial.’ + +‘You speak as a lady, madam,’ said the prince; ‘and for such you speak +the truth. But to men there is permitted such a field of license, and +the good behaviour asked of them is at once so easy and so little, that +to fail in that is to fall beyond the reach of pardon. But will you +suffer me to repeat a question, put to you at first, I am afraid, with +some defect of courtesy; and to ask you once more, who you are and how I +have the honour of your company?’ + +‘I am the proprietor of the house in which we stand,’ said I. + +‘And still I am at fault,’ returned the prince. + +But at that moment the timepiece on the mantel-shelf began to strike the +hour of twelve; and the young man, raising himself upon one elbow, with +an expression of despair and horror that I have never seen excelled, +cried lamentably, ‘Midnight! oh, just God!’ We stood frozen to our +places, while the tingling hammer of the timepiece measured the remaining +strokes; nor had we yet stirred, so tragic had been the tones of the +young man, when the various bells of London began in turn to declare the +hour. The timepiece was inaudible beyond the walls of the chamber where +we stood; but the second pulsation of Big Ben had scarcely throbbed into +the night, before a sharp detonation rang about the house. The prince +sprang for the door by which I had entered; but quick as he was, I yet +contrived to intercept him. + +‘Are you armed?’ I cried. + +‘No, madam,’ replied he. ‘You remind me appositely; I will take the +poker.’ + +‘The man below,’ said I, ‘has two revolvers. Would you confront him at +such odds?’ + +He paused, as though staggered in his purpose. + +‘And yet, madam,’ said he, ‘we cannot continue to remain in ignorance of +what has passed.’ + +‘No!’ cried I. ‘And who proposes it? I am as curious as yourself, but +let us rather send for the police; or, if your highness dreads a scandal, +for some of your own servants.’ + +‘Nay, madam,’ he replied, smiling, ‘for so brave a lady, you surprise me. +Would you have me, then, send others where I fear to go myself?’ + +‘You are perfectly right,’ said I, ‘and I was entirely wrong. Go, in +God’s name, and I will hold the candle!’ + +Together, therefore, we descended to the lower story, he carrying the +poker, I the light; and together we approached and opened the door of the +butler’s pantry. In some sort, I believe, I was prepared for the +spectacle that met our eyes; I was prepared, that is, to find the villain +dead, but the rude details of such a violent suicide I was unable to +endure. The prince, unshaken by horror as he had remained unshaken by +alarm, assisted me with the most respectful gallantry to regain the +dining-room. + +There we found our patient, still, indeed, deadly pale, but vastly +recovered and already seated on a chair. He held out both his hands with +a most pitiful gesture of interrogation. + +‘He is dead,’ said the prince. + +‘Alas!’ cried the young man, ‘and it should be I! What do I do, thus +lingering on the stage I have disgraced, while he, my sure comrade, +blameworthy indeed for much, but yet the soul of fidelity, has judged and +slain himself for an involuntary fault? Ah, sir,’ said he, ‘and you too, +madam, without whose cruel help I should be now beyond the reach of my +accusing conscience, you behold in me the victim equally of my own faults +and virtues. I was born a hater of injustice; from my most tender years +my blood boiled against heaven when I beheld the sick, and against men +when I witnessed the sorrows of the poor; the pauper’s crust stuck in my +throat when I sat down to eat my dainties, and the cripple child has set +me weeping. What was there in that but what was noble? and yet observe +to what a fall these thoughts have led me! Year after year this passion +for the lost besieged me closer. What hope was there in kings? what hope +in these well-feathered classes that now roll in money? I had observed +the course of history; I knew the burgess, our ruler of to-day, to be +base, cowardly, and dull; I saw him, in every age, combine to pull down +that which was immediately above and to prey upon those that were below; +his dulness, I knew, would ultimately bring about his ruin; I knew his +days were numbered, and yet how was I to wait? how was I to let the poor +child shiver in the rain? The better days, indeed, were coming, but the +child would die before that. Alas, your highness, in surely no +ungenerous impatience I enrolled myself among the enemies of this unjust +and doomed society; in surely no unnatural desire to keep the fires of my +philanthropy alight, I bound myself by an irrevocable oath. + +‘That oath is all my history. To give freedom to posterity I had +forsworn my own. I must attend upon every signal; and soon my father +complained of my irregular hours and turned me from his house. I was +engaged in betrothal to an honest girl; from her also I had to part, for +she was too shrewd to credit my inventions and too innocent to be +entrusted with the truth. Behold me, then, alone with conspirators! +Alas! as the years went on, my illusions left me. Surrounded as I was by +the fervent disciples and apologists of revolution, I beheld them daily +advance in confidence and desperation; I beheld myself, upon the other +hand, and with an almost equal regularity, decline in faith. I had +sacrificed all to further that cause in which I still believed; and daily +I began to grow in doubts if we were advancing it indeed. Horrible was +the society with which we warred, but our own means were not less +horrible. + +‘I will not dwell upon my sufferings; I will not pause to tell you how, +when I beheld young men still free and happy, married, fathers of +children, cheerfully toiling at their work, my heart reproached me with +the greatness and vanity of my unhappy sacrifice. I will not describe to +you how, worn by poverty, poor lodging, scanty food, and an unquiet +conscience, my health began to fail, and in the long nights, as I +wandered bedless in the rainy streets, the most cruel sufferings of the +body were added to the tortures of my mind. These things are not +personal to me; they are common to all unfortunates in my position. An +oath, so light a thing to swear, so grave a thing to break: an oath, +taken in the heat of youth, repented with what sobbings of the heart, but +yet in vain repented, as the years go on: an oath, that was once the very +utterance of the truth of God, but that falls to be the symbol of a +meaningless and empty slavery; such is the yoke that many young men +joyfully assume, and under whose dead weight they live to suffer worse +than death. + +‘It is not that I was patient. I have begged to be released; but I knew +too much, and I was still refused. I have fled; ay, and for the time +successfully. I reached Paris. I found a lodging in the Rue St. +Jacques, almost opposite the Val de Grâce. My room was mean and bare, +but the sun looked into it towards evening; it commanded a peep of a +green garden; a bird hung by a neighbour’s window and made the morning +beautiful; and I, who was sick, might lie in bed and rest myself: I, who +was in full revolt against the principles that I had served, was now no +longer at the beck of the council, and was no longer charged with +shameful and revolting tasks. Oh! what an interval of peace was that! I +still dream, at times, that I can hear the note of my neighbour’s bird. + +‘My money was running out, and it became necessary that I should find +employment. Scarcely had I been three days upon the search, ere I +thought that I was being followed. I made certain of the features of the +man, which were quite strange to me, and turned into a small café, where +I whiled away an hour, pretending to read the papers, but inwardly +convulsed with terror. When I came forth again into the street, it was +quite empty, and I breathed again; but alas, I had not turned three +corners, when I once more observed the human hound pursuing me. Not an +hour was to be lost; timely submission might yet preserve a life which +otherwise was forfeit and dishonoured; and I fled, with what speed you +may conceive, to the Paris agency of the society I served. + +‘My submission was accepted. I took up once more the hated burthen of +that life; once more I was at the call of men whom I despised and hated, +while yet I envied and admired them. They at least were wholehearted in +the things they purposed; but I, who had once been such as they, had +fallen from the brightness of my faith, and now laboured, like a +hireling, for the wages of a loathed existence. Ay, sir, to that I was +condemned; I obeyed to continue to live, and lived but to obey. + +‘The last charge that was laid upon me was the one which has to-night so +tragically ended. Boldly telling who I was, I was to request from your +highness, on behalf of my society, a private audience, where it was +designed to murder you. If one thing remained to me of my old +convictions, it was the hate of kings; and when this task was offered me, +I took it gladly. Alas, sir, you triumphed. As we supped, you gained +upon my heart. Your character, your talents, your designs for our +unhappy country, all had been misrepresented. I began to forget you were +a prince; I began, all too feelingly, to remember that you were a man. +As I saw the hour approach, I suffered agonies untold; and when, at last, +we heard the slamming of the door which announced in my unwilling ears +the arrival of the partner of my crime, you will bear me out with what +instancy I besought you to depart. You would not, alas! and what could +I? Kill you, I could not; my heart revolted, my hand turned back from +such a deed. Yet it was impossible that I should suffer you to stay; for +when the hour struck and my companion came, true to his appointment, and +he, at least, true to our design, I could neither suffer you to be killed +nor yet him to be arrested. From such a tragic passage, death, and death +alone, could save me; and it is no fault of mine if I continue to exist. + +‘But you, madam,’ continued the young man, addressing himself more +directly to myself, ‘were doubtless born to save the prince and to +confound our purposes. My life you have prolonged; and by turning the +key on my companion, you have made me the author of his death. He heard +the hour strike; he was impotent to help; and thinking himself forfeit to +honour, thinking that I should fall alone upon his highness and perish +for lack of his support, he has turned his pistol on himself.’ + +‘You are right,’ said Prince Florizel: ‘it was in no ungenerous spirit +that you brought these burthens on yourself; and when I see you so nobly +to blame, so tragically punished, I stand like one reproved. For is it +not strange, madam, that you and I, by practising accepted and +inconsiderable virtues, and commonplace but still unpardonable faults, +should stand here, in the sight of God, with what we call clean hands and +quiet consciences; while this poor youth, for an error that I could +almost envy him, should be sunk beyond the reach of hope? + +‘Sir,’ resumed the prince, turning to the young man, ‘I cannot help you; +my help would but unchain the thunderbolt that overhangs you; and I can +but leave you free.’ + +‘And, sir,’ said I, ‘as this house belongs to me, I will ask you to have +the kindness to remove the body. You and your conspirators, it appears +to me, can hardly in civility do less.’ + +‘It shall be done,’ said the young man, with a dismal accent. + +‘And you, dear madam,’ said the prince, ‘you, to whom I owe my life, how +can I serve you?’ + +‘Your highness,’ I said, ‘to be very plain, this is my favourite house, +being not only a valuable property, but endeared to me by various +associations. I have endless troubles with tenants of the ordinary +class: and at first applauded my good fortune when I found one of the +station of your Master of the Horse. I now begin to think otherwise: +dangers set a siege about great personages; and I do not wish my tenement +to share these risks. Procure me the resiliation of the lease, and I +shall feel myself your debtor.’ + +‘I must tell you, madam,’ replied his highness, ‘that Colonel Geraldine +is but a cloak for myself; and I should be sorry indeed to think myself +so unacceptable a tenant.’ + +‘Your highness,’ said I, ‘I have conceived a sincere admiration for your +character; but on the subject of house property, I cannot allow the +interference of my feelings. I will, however, to prove to you that there +is nothing personal in my request, here solemnly engage my word that I +will never put another tenant in this house.’ + +‘Madam,’ said Florizel, ‘you plead your cause too charmingly to be +refused.’ + +Thereupon we all three withdrew. The young man, still reeling in his +walk, departed by himself to seek the assistance of his +fellow-conspirators; and the prince, with the most attentive gallantry, +lent me his escort to the door of my hotel. The next day, the lease was +cancelled; nor from that hour to this, though sometimes regretting my +engagement, have I suffered a tenant in this house. + + + + +_THE SUPERFLUOUS MANSION_ +(_Continued_). + + +As soon as the old lady had finished her relation, Somerset made haste to +offer her his compliments. + +‘Madam,’ said he, ‘your story is not only entertaining but instructive; +and you have told it with infinite vivacity. I was much affected towards +the end, as I held at one time very liberal opinions, and should +certainly have joined a secret society if I had been able to find one. +But the whole tale came home to me; and I was the better able to feel for +you in your various perplexities, as I am myself of somewhat hasty +temper.’ + +‘I do not understand you,’ said Mrs. Luxmore, with some marks of +irritation. ‘You must have strangely misinterpreted what I have told +you. You fill me with surprise.’ + +Somerset, alarmed by the old lady’s change of tone and manner, hurried to +recant. + +‘Dear Mrs. Luxmore,’ said he, ‘you certainly misconstrue my remark. As a +man of somewhat fiery humour, my conscience repeatedly pricked me when I +heard what you had suffered at the hands of persons similarly +constituted.’ + +‘Oh, very well indeed,’ replied the old lady; ‘and a very proper spirit. +I regret that I have met with it so rarely.’ + +‘But in all this,’ resumed the young man, ‘I perceive nothing that +concerns myself.’ + +‘I am about to come to that,’ she returned. ‘And you have already before +you, in the pledge I gave Prince Florizel, one of the elements of the +affair. I am a woman of the nomadic sort, and when I have no case before +the courts I make it a habit to visit continental spas: not that I have +ever been ill; but then I am no longer young, and I am always happy in a +crowd. Well, to come more shortly to the point, I am now on the wing for +Evian; this incubus of a house, which I must leave behind and dare not +let, hangs heavily upon my hands; and I propose to rid myself of that +concern, and do you a very good turn into the bargain, by lending you the +mansion, with all its fittings, as it stands. The idea was sudden; it +appealed to me as humorous: and I am sure it will cause my relatives, if +they should ever hear of it, the keenest possible chagrin. Here, then, +is the key; and when you return at two to-morrow afternoon, you will find +neither me nor my cats to disturb you in your new possession.’ + +So saying, the old lady arose, as if to dismiss her visitor; but +Somerset, looking somewhat blankly on the key, began to protest. + +‘Dear Mrs. Luxmore,’ said he, ‘this is a most unusual proposal. You know +nothing of me, beyond the fact that I displayed both impudence and +timidity. I may be the worst kind of scoundrel; I may sell your +furniture—’ + +‘You may blow up the house with gunpowder, for what I care!’ cried Mrs. +Luxmore. ‘It is in vain to reason. Such is the force of my character +that, when I have one idea clearly in my head, I do not care two straws +for any side consideration. It amuses me to do it, and let that suffice. +On your side, you may do what you please—let apartments, or keep a +private hotel; on mine, I promise you a full month’s warning before I +return, and I never fail religiously to keep my promises.’ + +The young man was about to renew his protest, when he observed a sudden +and significant change in the old lady’s countenance. + +‘If I thought you capable of disrespect!’ she cried. + +‘Madam,’ said Somerset, with the extreme fervour of asseveration, ‘madam, +I accept. I beg you to understand that I accept with joy and gratitude.’ + +‘Ah well,’ returned Mrs. Luxmore, ‘if I am mistaken, let it pass. And +now, since all is comfortably settled, I wish you a good-night.’ + +Thereupon, as if to leave him no room for repentance, she hurried +Somerset out of the front door, and left him standing, key in hand, upon +the pavement. + +The next day, about the hour appointed, the young man found his way to +the square, which I will here call Golden Square, though that was not its +name. What to expect, he knew not; for a man may live in dreams, and yet +be unprepared for their realisation. It was already with a certain pang +of surprise that he beheld the mansion, standing in the eye of day, a +solid among solids. The key, upon trial, readily opened the front door; +he entered that great house, a privileged burglar; and, escorted by the +echoes of desertion, rapidly reviewed the empty chambers. Cats, servant, +old lady, the very marks of habitation, like writing on a slate, had been +in these few hours obliterated. He wandered from floor to floor, and +found the house of great extent; the kitchen offices commodious and well +appointed; the rooms many and large; and the drawing-room, in particular, +an apartment of princely size and tasteful decoration. Although the day +without was warm, genial, and sunny, with a ruffling wind from the +quarter of Torquay, a chill, as it were, of suspended animation inhabited +the house. Dust and shadows met the eye; and but for the ominous +procession of the echoes, and the rumour of the wind among the garden +trees, the ear of the young man was stretched in vain. + +Behind the dining-room, that pleasant library, referred to by the old +lady in her tale, looked upon the flat roofs and netted cupolas of the +kitchen quarters; and on a second visit, this room appeared to greet him +with a smiling countenance. He might as well, he thought, avoid the +expense of lodging: the library, fitted with an iron bedstead which he +had remarked, in one of the upper chambers, would serve his purpose for +the night; while in the dining-room, which was large, airy, and +lightsome, looking on the square and garden, he might very agreeably pass +his days, cook his meals, and study to bring himself to some proficiency +in that art of painting which he had recently determined to adopt. It +did not take him long to make the change: he had soon returned to the +mansion with his modest kit; and the cabman who brought him was readily +induced, by the young man’s pleasant manner and a small gratuity, to +assist him in the installation of the iron bed. By six in the evening, +when Somerset went forth to dine, he was able to look back upon the +mansion with a sense of pride and property. Four-square it stood, of an +imposing frontage, and flanked on either side by family hatchments. His +eye, from where he stood whistling in the key, with his back to the +garden railings, reposed on every feature of reality; and yet his own +possession seemed as flimsy as a dream. + +In the course of a few days, the genteel inhabitants of the square began +to remark the customs of their neighbour. The sight of a young gentleman +discussing a clay pipe, about four o’clock of the afternoon, in the +drawing-room balcony of so discreet a mansion; and perhaps still more, +his periodical excursion to a decent tavern in the neighbourhood, and his +unabashed return, nursing the full tankard: had presently raised to a +high pitch the interest and indignation of the liveried servants of the +square. The disfavour of some of these gentlemen at first proceeded to +the length of insult; but Somerset knew how to be affable with any class +of men; and a few rude words merrily accepted, and a few glasses amicably +shared, gained for him the right of toleration. + +The young man had embraced the art of Raphael, partly from a notion of +its ease, partly from an inborn distrust of offices. He scorned to bear +the yoke of any regular schooling; and proceeded to turn one half of the +dining-room into a studio for the reproduction of still life. There he +amassed a variety of objects, indiscriminately chosen from the kitchen, +the drawing-room, and the back garden; and there spent his days in +smiling assiduity. Meantime, the great bulk of empty building overhead +lay, like a load, upon his imagination. To hold so great a stake and to +do nothing, argued some defect of energy; and he at length determined to +act upon the hint given by Mrs. Luxmore herself, and to stick, with +wafers, in the window of the dining-room, a small handbill announcing +furnished lodgings. At half-past six of a fine July morning, he affixed +the bill, and went forth into the square to study the result. It seemed, +to his eye, promising and unpretentious; and he returned to the +drawing-room balcony, to consider, over a studious pipe, the knotty +problem of how much he was to charge. + +Thereupon he somewhat relaxed in his devotion to the art of painting. +Indeed, from that time forth, he would spend the best part of the day in +the front balcony, like the attentive angler poring on his float; and the +better to support the tedium, he would frequently console himself with +his clay pipe. On several occasions, passers-by appeared to be arrested +by the ticket, and on several others ladies and gentlemen drove to the +very doorstep by the carriageful; but it appeared there was something +repulsive in the appearance of the house; for with one accord, they would +cast but one look upward, and hastily resume their onward progress or +direct the driver to proceed. Somerset had thus the mortification of +actually meeting the eye of a large number of lodging-seekers; and though +he hastened to withdraw his pipe, and to compose his features to an air +of invitation, he was never rewarded by so much as an inquiry. ‘Can +there,’ he thought, ‘be anything repellent in myself?’ But a candid +examination in one of the pier-glasses of the drawing-room led him to +dismiss the fear. + +Something, however, was amiss. His vast and accurate calculations on the +fly-leaves of books, or on the backs of playbills, appeared to have been +an idle sacrifice of time. By these, he had variously computed the +weekly takings of the house, from sums as modest as five-and-twenty +shillings, up to the more majestic figure of a hundred pounds; and yet, +in despite of the very elements of arithmetic, here he was making +literally nothing. + +This incongruity impressed him deeply and occupied his thoughtful leisure +on the balcony; and at last it seemed to him that he had detected the +error of his method. ‘This,’ he reflected, ‘is an age of generous +display: the age of the sandwich-man, of Griffiths, of Pears’ legendary +soap, and of Eno’s fruit salt, which, by sheer brass and notoriety, and +the most disgusting pictures I ever remember to have seen, has overlaid +that comforter of my childhood, Lamplough’s pyretic saline. Lamplough +was genteel, Eno was omnipresent; Lamplough was trite, Eno original and +abominably vulgar; and here have I, a man of some pretensions to +knowledge of the world, contented myself with half a sheet of note-paper, +a few cold words which do not directly address the imagination, and the +adornment (if adornment it may be called) of four red wafers! Am I, +then, to sink with Lamplough, or to soar with Eno? Am I to adopt that +modesty which is doubtless becoming in a duke? or to take hold of the red +facts of life with the emphasis of the tradesman and the poet?’ + +Pursuant upon these meditations, he procured several sheets of the very +largest size of drawing-paper; and laying forth his paints, proceeded to +compose an ensign that might attract the eye, and at the same time, in +his own phrase, directly address the imagination of the passenger. +Something taking in the way of colour, a good, savoury choice of words, +and a realistic design setting forth the life a lodger might expect to +lead within the walls of that palace of delight: these, he perceived, +must be the elements of his advertisement. It was possible, upon the one +hand, to depict the sober pleasures of domestic life, the evening fire, +blond-headed urchins and the hissing urn; but on the other, it was +possible (and he almost felt as if it were more suited to his muse) to +set forth the charms of an existence somewhat wider in its range or, +boldly say, the paradise of the Mohammedan. So long did the artist waver +between these two views, that, before he arrived at a conclusion, he had +finally conceived and completed both designs. With the proverbially +tender heart of the parent, he found himself unable to sacrifice either +of these offsprings of his art; and decided to expose them on alternate +days. ‘In this way,’ he thought, ‘I shall address myself indifferently +to all classes of the world.’ + +The tossing of a penny decided the only remaining point; and the more +imaginative canvas received the suffrages of fortune, and appeared first +in the window of the mansion. It was of a high fancy, the legend +eloquently writ, the scheme of colour taking and bold; and but for the +imperfection of the artist’s drawing, it might have been taken for a +model of its kind. As it was, however, when viewed from his favourite +point against the garden railings, and with some touch of distance, it +caused a pleasurable rising of the artist’s heart. ‘I have thrown away,’ +he ejaculated, ‘an invaluable motive; and this shall be the subject of my +first academy picture.’ + +The fate of neither of these works was equal to its merit. A crowd would +certainly, from time to time, collect before the area-railings; but they +came to jeer and not to speculate; and those who pushed their inquiries +further, were too plainly animated by the spirit of derision. The racier +of the two cartoons displayed, indeed, no symptom of attractive merit; +and though it had a certain share of that success called scandalous, +failed utterly of its effect. On the day, however, of the second +appearance of the companion work, a real inquirer did actually present +himself before the eyes of Somerset. + +This was a gentlemanly man, with some marks of recent merriment, and his +voice under inadequate control. + +‘I beg your pardon,’ said he, ‘but what is the meaning of your +extraordinary bill?’ + +‘I beg yours,’ returned Somerset hotly. ‘Its meaning is sufficiently +explicit.’ And being now, from dire experience, fearful of ridicule, he +was preparing to close the door, when the gentleman thrust his cane into +the aperture. + +‘Not so fast, I beg of you,’ said he. ‘If you really let apartments, +here is a possible tenant at your door; and nothing would give me greater +pleasure than to see the accommodation and to learn your terms.’ + +His heart joyously beating, Somerset admitted the visitor, showed him +over the various apartments, and, with some return of his persuasive +eloquence, expounded their attractions. The gentleman was particularly +pleased by the elegant proportions of the drawing-room. + +‘This,’ he said, ‘would suit me very well. What, may I ask, would be +your terms a week, for this floor and the one above it?’ + +‘I was thinking,’ returned Somerset, ‘of a hundred pounds.’ + +‘Surely not,’ exclaimed the gentleman. + +‘Well, then,’ returned Somerset, ‘fifty.’ + +The gentleman regarded him with an air of some amazement. ‘You seem to +be strangely elastic in your demands,’ said he. ‘What if I were to +proceed on your own principle of division, and offer twenty-five?’ + +‘Done!’ cried Somerset; and then, overcome by a sudden embarrassment, +‘You see,’ he added apologetically, ‘it is all found money for me.’ + +‘Really?’ said the stranger, looking at him all the while with growing +wonder. ‘Without extras, then?’ + +‘I—I suppose so,’ stammered the keeper of the lodging-house. + +‘Service included?’ pursued the gentleman. + +‘Service?’ cried Somerset. ‘Do you mean that you expect me to empty your +slops?’ + +The gentleman regarded him with a very friendly interest. ‘My dear +fellow,’ said he, ‘if you take my advice, you will give up this +business.’ And thereupon he resumed his hat and took himself away. + +This smarting disappointment produced a strong effect on the artist of +the cartoons; and he began with shame to eat up his rosier illusions. +First one and then the other of his great works was condemned, withdrawn +from exhibition, and relegated, as a mere wall-picture, to the decoration +of the dining-room. Their place was taken by a replica of the original +wafered announcement, to which, in particularly large letters, he had +added the pithy rubric: ‘_No service_.’ Meanwhile he had fallen into +something as nearly bordering on low spirits as was consistent with his +disposition; depressed, at once by the failure of his scheme, the +laughable turn of his late interview, and the judicial blindness of the +public to the merit of the twin cartoons. + +Perhaps a week had passed before he was again startled by the note of the +knocker. A gentleman of a somewhat foreign and somewhat military air, +yet closely shaven and wearing a soft hat, desired in the politest terms +to visit the apartments. He had (he explained) a friend, a gentleman in +tender health, desirous of a sedate and solitary life, apart from +interruptions and the noises of the common lodging-house. ‘The unusual +clause,’ he continued, ‘in your announcement, particularly struck me. +“This,” I said, “is the place for Mr. Jones.” You are yourself, sir, a +professional gentleman?’ concluded the visitor, looking keenly in +Somerset’s face. + +‘I am an artist,’ replied the young man lightly. + +‘And these,’ observed the other, taking a side glance through the open +door of the dining-room, which they were then passing, ‘these are some of +your works. Very remarkable.’ And he again and still more sharply +peered into the countenance of the young man. + +Somerset, unable to suppress a blush, made the more haste to lead his +visitor upstairs and to display the apartments. + +‘Excellent,’ observed the stranger, as he looked from one of the back +windows. ‘Is that a mews behind, sir? Very good. Well, sir: see here. +My friend will take your drawing-room floor; he will sleep in the back +drawing-room; his nurse, an excellent Irish widow, will attend on all his +wants and occupy a garret; he will pay you the round sum of ten dollars a +week; and you, on your part, will engage to receive no other lodger? I +think that fair.’ + +Somerset had scarcely words in which to clothe his gratitude and joy. + +‘Agreed,’ said the other; ‘and to spare you trouble, my friend will bring +some men with him to make the changes. You will find him a retiring +inmate, sir; receives but few, and rarely leaves the house, except at +night.’ + +‘Since I have been in this house,’ returned Somerset, ‘I have myself, +unless it were to fetch beer, rarely gone abroad except in the evening. +But a man,’ he added, ‘must have some amusement.’ + +An hour was then agreed on; the gentleman departed; and Somerset sat down +to compute in English money the value of the figure named. The result of +this investigation filled him with amazement and disgust; but it was now +too late; nothing remained but to endure; and he awaited the arrival of +his tenant, still trying, by various arithmetical expedients, to obtain a +more favourable quotation for the dollar. With the approach of dusk, +however, his impatience drove him once more to the front balcony. The +night fell, mild and airless; the lamps shone around the central darkness +of the garden; and through the tall grove of trees that intervened, many +warmly illuminated windows on the farther side of the square, told their +tale of white napery, choice wine, and genial hospitality. The stars +were already thickening overhead, when the young man’s eyes alighted on a +procession of three four-wheelers, coasting round the garden railing and +bound for the Superfluous Mansion. They were laden with formidable +boxes; moved in a military order, one following another; and, by the +extreme slowness of their advance, inspired Somerset with the most +serious ideas of his tenant’s malady. + +By the time he had the door open, the cabs had drawn up beside the +pavement; and from the two first, there had alighted the military +gentleman of the morning and two very stalwart porters. These proceeded +instantly to take possession of the house; with their own hands, and +firmly rejecting Somerset’s assistance, they carried in the various +crates and boxes; with their own hands dismounted and transferred to the +back drawing-room the bed in which the tenant was to sleep; and it was +not until the bustle of arrival had subsided, and the arrangements were +complete, that there descended, from the third of the three vehicles, a +gentleman of great stature and broad shoulders, leaning on the shoulder +of a woman in a widow’s dress, and himself covered by a long cloak and +muffled in a coloured comforter. + +Somerset had but a glimpse of him in passing; he was soon shut into the +back drawing-room; the other men departed; silence redescended on the +house; and had not the nurse appeared a little before half-past ten, and, +with a strong brogue, asked if there were a decent public-house in the +neighbourhood, Somerset might have still supposed himself to be alone in +the Superfluous Mansion. + +Day followed day; and still the young man had never come by speech or +sight of his mysterious lodger. The doors of the drawing-room flat were +never open; and although Somerset could hear him moving to and fro, the +tall man had never quitted the privacy of his apartments. Visitors, +indeed, arrived; sometimes in the dusk, sometimes at intempestuous hours +of night or morning; men, for the most part; some meanly attired, some +decently; some loud, some cringing; and yet all, in the eyes of Somerset, +displeasing. A certain air of fear and secrecy was common to them all; +they were all voluble, he thought, and ill at ease; even the military +gentleman proved, on a closer inspection, to be no gentleman at all; and +as for the doctor who attended the sick man, his manners were not +suggestive of a university career. The nurse, again, was scarcely a +desirable house-fellow. Since her arrival, the fall of whisky in the +young man’s private bottle was much accelerated; and though never +communicative, she was at times unpleasantly familiar. When asked about +the patient’s health, she would dolorously shake her head, and declare +that the poor gentleman was in a pitiful condition. + +Yet somehow Somerset had early begun to entertain the notion that his +complaint was other than bodily. The ill-looking birds that gathered to +the house, the strange noises that sounded from the drawing-room in the +dead hours of night, the careless attendance and intemperate habits of +the nurse, the entire absence of correspondence, the entire seclusion of +Mr. Jones himself, whose face, up to that hour, he could not have sworn +to in a court of justice—all weighed unpleasantly upon the young man’s +mind. A sense of something evil, irregular and underhand, haunted and +depressed him; and this uneasy sentiment was the more firmly rooted in +his mind, when, in the fulness of time, he had an opportunity of +observing the features of his tenant. It fell in this way. The young +landlord was awakened about four in the morning by a noise in the hall. +Leaping to his feet, and opening the door of the library, he saw the tall +man, candle in hand, in earnest conversation with the gentleman who had +taken the rooms. The faces of both were strongly illuminated; and in +that of his tenant, Somerset could perceive none of the marks of disease, +but every sign of health, energy, and resolution. While he was still +looking, the visitor took his departure; and the invalid, having +carefully fastened the front door, sprang upstairs without a trace of +lassitude. + +That night upon his pillow, Somerset began to kindle once more into the +hot fit of the detective fever; and the next morning resumed the practice +of his art with careless hand and an abstracted mind. The day was +destined to be fertile in surprises; nor had he long been seated at the +easel ere the first of these occurred. A cab laden with baggage drew up +before the door; and Mrs. Luxmore in person rapidly mounted the steps and +began to pound upon the knocker. Somerset hastened to attend the +summons. + +‘My dear fellow,’ she said, with the utmost gaiety, ‘here I come dropping +from the moon. I am delighted to find you faithful; and I have no doubt +you will be equally pleased to be restored to liberty.’ + +Somerset could find no words, whether of protest or welcome; and the +spirited old lady pushed briskly by him and paused on the threshold of +the dining-room. The sight that met her eyes was one well calculated to +inspire astonishment. The mantelpiece was arrayed with saucepans and +empty bottles; on the fire some chops were frying; the floor was littered +from end to end with books, clothes, walking-canes and the materials of +the painter’s craft; but what far outstripped the other wonders of the +place was the corner which had been arranged for the study of still-life. +This formed a sort of rockery; conspicuous upon which, according to the +principles of the art of composition, a cabbage was relieved against a +copper kettle, and both contrasted with the mail of a boiled lobster. + +‘My gracious goodness!’ cried the lady of the house; and then, turning in +wrath on the young man, ‘From what rank in life are you sprung?’ she +demanded. ‘You have the exterior of a gentleman; but from the +astonishing evidences before me, I should say you can only be a +greengrocer’s man. Pray, gather up your vegetables, and let me see no +more of you.’ + +‘Madam,’ babbled Somerset, ‘you promised me a month’s warning.’ + +‘That was under a misapprehension,’ returned the old lady. ‘I now give +you warning to leave at once.’ + +‘Madam,’ said the young man, ‘I wish I could; and indeed, as far as I am +concerned, it might be done. But then, my lodger!’ + +‘Your lodger?’ echoed Mrs. Luxmore. + +‘My lodger: why should I deny it?’ returned Somerset. ‘He is only by the +week.’ + +The old lady sat down upon a chair. ‘You have a lodger?—you?’ she cried. +‘And pray, how did you get him?’ + +‘By advertisement,’ replied the young man. ‘O madam, I have not lived +unobservantly. I adopted’—his eyes involuntarily shifted to the +cartoons—‘I adopted every method.’ + +Her eyes had followed his; for the first time in Somerset’s experience, +she produced a double eye-glass; and as soon as the full merit of the +works had flashed upon her, she gave way to peal after peal of her +trilling and soprano laughter. + +‘Oh, I think you are perfectly delicious!’ she cried. ‘I do hope you had +them in the window. M’Pherson,’ she continued, crying to her maid, who +had been all this time grimly waiting in the hall, ‘I lunch with Mr. +Somerset. Take the cellar key and bring some wine.’ + +In this gay humour she continued throughout the luncheon; presented +Somerset with a couple of dozen of wine, which she made M’Pherson bring +up from the cellar—‘as a present, my dear,’ she said, with another burst +of tearful merriment, ‘for your charming pictures, which you must be sure +to leave me when you go;’ and finally, protesting that she dared not +spoil the absurdest houseful of madmen in the whole of London, departed +(as she vaguely phrased it) for the continent of Europe. + +She was no sooner gone, than Somerset encountered in the corridor the +Irish nurse; sober, to all appearance, and yet a prey to singularly +strong emotion. It was made to appear, from her account, that Mr. Jones +had already suffered acutely in his health from Mrs. Luxmore’s visit, and +that nothing short of a full explanation could allay the invalid’s +uneasiness. Somerset, somewhat staring, told what he thought fit of the +affair. + +‘Is that all?’ cried the woman. ‘As God sees you, is that all?’ + +‘My good woman,’ said the young man, ‘I have no idea what you can be +driving at. Suppose the lady were my friend’s wife, suppose she were my +fairy godmother, suppose she were the Queen of Portugal; and how should +that affect yourself or Mr. Jones?’ + +‘Blessed Mary!’ cried the nurse, ‘it’s he that will be glad to hear it!’ + +And immediately she fled upstairs. + +Somerset, on his part, returned to the dining-room, and with a very +thoughtful brow and ruminating many theories, disposed of the remainder +of the bottle. It was port; and port is a wine, sole among its equals +and superiors, that can in some degree support the competition of +tobacco. Sipping, smoking, and theorising, Somerset moved on from +suspicion to suspicion, from resolve to resolve, still growing braver and +rosier as the bottle ebbed. He was a sceptic, none prouder of the name; +he had no horror at command, whether for crimes or vices, but beheld and +embraced the world, with an immoral approbation, the frequent consequence +of youth and health. At the same time, he felt convinced that he dwelt +under the same roof with secret malefactors; and the unregenerate +instinct of the chase impelled him to severity. The bottle had run low; +the summer sun had finally withdrawn; and at the same moment, night and +the pangs of hunger recalled him from his dreams. + +He went forth, and dined in the Criterion: a dinner in consonance, not so +much with his purse, as with the admirable wine he had discussed. What +with one thing and another, it was long past midnight when he returned +home. A cab was at the door; and entering the hall, Somerset found +himself face to face with one of the most regular of the few who visited +Mr. Jones: a man of powerful figure, strong lineaments, and a chin-beard +in the American fashion. This person was carrying on one shoulder a +black portmanteau, seemingly of considerable weight. That he should find +a visitor removing baggage in the dead of night, recalled some odd +stories to the young man’s memory; he had heard of lodgers who thus +gradually drained away, not only their own effects, but the very +furniture and fittings of the house that sheltered them; and now, in a +mood between pleasantry and suspicion, and aping the manner of a +drunkard, he roughly bumped against the man with the chin-beard and +knocked the portmanteau from his shoulder to the floor. With a face +struck suddenly as white as paper, the man with the chin-beard called +lamentably on the name of his maker, and fell in a mere heap on the mat +at the foot of the stairs. At the same time, though only for a single +instant, the heads of the sick lodger and the Irish nurse popped out like +rabbits over the banisters of the first floor; and on both the same scare +and pallor were apparent. + +The sight of this incredible emotion turned Somerset to stone, and he +continued speechless, while the man gathered himself together, and, with +the help of the handrail and audibly thanking God, scrambled once more +upon his feet. + +‘What in Heaven’s name ails you?’ gasped the young man as soon as he +could find words and utterance. + +‘Have you a drop of brandy?’ returned the other. ‘I am sick.’ + +Somerset administered two drams, one after the other, to the man with the +chin-beard; who then, somewhat restored, began to confound himself in +apologies for what he called his miserable nervousness, the result, he +said, of a long course of dumb ague; and having taken leave with a hand +that still sweated and trembled, he gingerly resumed his burthen and +departed. + +Somerset retired to bed but not to sleep. What, he asked himself, had +been the contents of the black portmanteau? Stolen goods? the carcase of +one murdered? or—and at the thought he sat upright in bed—an infernal +machine? He took a solemn vow that he would set these doubts at rest; +and with the next morning, installed himself beside the dining-room +window, vigilant with eye; and ear, to await and profit by the earliest +opportunity. + +The hours went heavily by. Within the house there was no circumstance of +novelty; unless it might be that the nurse more frequently made little +journeys round the corner of the square, and before afternoon was +somewhat loose of speech and gait. A little after six, however, there +came round the corner of the gardens a very handsome and elegantly +dressed young woman, who paused a little way off, and for some time, and +with frequent sighs, contemplated the front of the Superfluous Mansion. +It was not the first time that she had thus stood afar and looked upon +it, like our common parents at the gates of Eden; and the young man had +already had occasion to remark the lively slimness of her carriage, and +had already been the butt of a chance arrow from her eye. He hailed her +coming, then, with pleasant feelings, and moved a little nearer to the +window to enjoy the sight. What was his surprise, however, when, as if +with a sensible effort, she drew near, mounted the steps and tapped +discreetly at the door! He made haste to get before the Irish nurse, who +was not improbably asleep, and had the satisfaction to receive this +gracious visitor in person. + +She inquired for Mr. Jones; and then, without transition, asked the young +man if he were the person of the house (and at the words, he thought he +could perceive her to be smiling), ‘because,’ she added, ‘if you are, I +should like to see some of the other rooms.’ Somerset told her he was +under an engagement to receive no other lodgers; but she assured him that +would be no matter, as these were friends of Mr. Jones’s. ‘And,’ she +continued, moving suddenly to the dining-room door, ‘let us begin here.’ +Somerset was too late to prevent her entering, and perhaps he lacked the +courage to essay. ‘Ah!’ she cried, ‘how changed it is!’ + +‘Madam,’ cried the young man, ‘since your entrance, it is I who have the +right to say so.’ + +She received this inane compliment with a demure and conscious droop of +the eyelids, and gracefully steering her dress among the mingled litter, +now with a smile, now with a sigh, reviewed the wonders of the two +apartments. She gazed upon the cartoons with sparkling eyes, and a +heightened colour, and in a somewhat breathless voice, expressed a high +opinion of their merits. She praised the effective disposition of the +rockery, and in the bedroom, of which Somerset had vainly endeavoured to +defend the entry, she fairly broke forth in admiration. ‘How simple and +manly!’ she cried: ‘none of that effeminacy of neatness, which is so +detestable in a man!’ Hard upon this, telling him, before he had time to +reply, that she very well knew her way, and would trouble him no further, +she took her leave with an engaging smile, and ascended the staircase +alone. + +For more than an hour the young lady remained closeted with Mr. Jones; +and at the end of that time, the night being now come completely, they +left the house in company. This was the first time since the arrival of +his lodger, that Somerset had found himself alone with the Irish widow; +and without the loss of any more time than was required by decency, he +stepped to the foot of the stairs and hailed her by her name. She came +instantly, wreathed in weak smiles and with a nodding head; and when the +young man politely offered to introduce her to the treasures of his art, +she swore that nothing could afford her greater pleasure, for, though she +had never crossed the threshold, she had frequently observed his +beautiful pictures through the door. On entering the dining-room, the +sight of a bottle and two glasses prepared her to be a gentle critic; and +as soon as the pictures had been viewed and praised, she was easily +persuaded to join the painter in a single glass. ‘Here,’ she said, ‘are +my respects; and a pleasure it is, in this horrible house, to see a +gentleman like yourself, so affable and free, and a very nice painter, I +am sure.’ One glass so agreeably prefaced, was sure to lead to the +acceptance of a second; at the third, Somerset was free to cease from the +affectation of keeping her company; and as for the fourth, she asked it +of her own accord. ‘For indeed,’ said she, ‘what with all these clocks +and chemicals, without a drop of the creature life would be impossible +entirely. And you seen yourself that even M’Guire was glad to beg for +it. And even himself, when he is downhearted with all these cruel +disappointments, though as temperate a man as any child, will be +sometimes crying for a glass of it. And I’ll thank you for a thimbleful +to settle what I got.’ Soon after, she began with tears to narrate the +deathbed dispositions and lament the trifling assets of her husband. +Then she declared she heard ‘the master’ calling her, rose to her feet, +made but one lurch of it into the still-life rockery, and with her head +upon the lobster, fell into stertorous slumbers. + +Somerset mounted at once to the first story, and opened the door of the +drawing-room, which was brilliantly lit by several lamps. It was a great +apartment; looking on the square with three tall windows, and joined by a +pair of ample folding-doors to the next room; elegant in proportion, +papered in sea-green, furnished in velvet of a delicate blue, and adorned +with a majestic mantelpiece of variously tinted marbles. Such was the +room that Somerset remembered; that which he now beheld was changed in +almost every feature: the furniture covered with a figured chintz; the +walls hung with a rhubarb-coloured paper, and diversified by the +curtained recesses for no less than seven windows. It seemed to himself +that he must have entered, without observing the transition, into the +adjoining house. Presently from these more specious changes, his eye +condescended to the many curious objects with which the floor was +littered. Here were the locks of dismounted pistols; clocks and +clockwork in every stage of demolition, some still busily ticking, some +reduced to their dainty elements; a great company of carboys, jars and +bottles; a carpenter’s bench and a laboratory-table. + +The back drawing-room, to which Somerset proceeded, had likewise +undergone a change. It was transformed to the exact appearance of a +common lodging-house bedroom; a bed with green curtains occupied one +corner; and the window was blocked by the regulation table and mirror. +The door of a small closet here attracted the young man’s attention; and +striking a vesta, he opened it and entered. On a table several wigs and +beards were lying spread; about the walls hung an incongruous display of +suits and overcoats; and conspicuous among the last the young man +observed a large overall of the most costly sealskin. In a flash his +mind reverted to the advertisement in the _Standard_ newspaper. The +great height of his lodger, the disproportionate breadth of his +shoulders, and the strange particulars of his instalment, all pointed to +the same conclusion. + +The vesta had now burned to his fingers; and taking the coat upon his +arm, Somerset hastily returned to the lighted drawing-room. There, with +a mixture of fear and admiration, he pored upon its goodly proportions +and the regularity and softness of the pile. The sight of a large +pier-glass put another fancy in his head. He donned the fur-coat; and +standing before the mirror in an attitude suggestive of a Russian prince, +he thrust his hands into the ample pockets. There his fingers +encountered a folded journal. He drew it out, and recognised the type +and paper of the _Standard_; and at the same instant, his eyes alighted +on the offer of two hundred pounds. Plainly then, his lodger, now no +longer mysterious, had laid aside his coat on the very day of the +appearance of the advertisement. + +He was thus standing, the tell-tale coat upon his back, the incriminating +paper in his hand, when the door opened and the tall lodger, with a firm +but somewhat pallid face, stepped into the room and closed the door again +behind him. For some time, the two looked upon each other in perfect +silence; then Mr. Jones moved forward to the table, took a seat, and +still without once changing the direction of his eyes, addressed the +young man. + +‘You are right,’ he said. ‘It is for me the blood money is offered. And +now what will you do?’ + +It was a question to which Somerset was far from being able to reply. +Taken as he was at unawares, masquerading in the man’s own coat, and +surrounded by a whole arsenal of diabolical explosives, the keeper of the +lodging-house was silenced. + +‘Yes,’ resumed the other, ‘I am he. I am that man, whom with impotent +hate and fear, they still hunt from den to den, from disguise to +disguise. Yes, my landlord, you have it in your power, if you be poor, +to lay the basis of your fortune; if you be unknown, to capture honour at +one snatch. You have hocussed an innocent widow; and I find you here in +my apartment, for whose use I pay you in stamped money, searching my +wardrobe, and your hand—shame, sir!—your hand in my very pocket. You can +now complete the cycle of your ignominious acts, by what will be at once +the simplest, the safest, and the most remunerative.’ The speaker paused +as if to emphasise his words; and then, with a great change of tone and +manner, thus resumed: ‘And yet, sir, when I look upon your face, I feel +certain that I cannot be deceived: certain that in spite of all, I have +the honour and pleasure of speaking to a gentleman. Take off my coat, +sir—which but cumbers you. Divest yourself of this confusion: that which +is but thought upon, thank God, need be no burthen to the conscience; we +have all harboured guilty thoughts: and if it flashed into your mind to +sell my flesh and blood, my anguish in the dock, and the sweat of my +death agony—it was a thought, dear sir, you were as incapable of acting +on, as I of any further question of your honour.’ At these words, the +speaker, with a very open, smiling countenance, like a forgiving father, +offered Somerset his hand. + +It was not in the young man’s nature to refuse forgiveness or dissect +generosity. He instantly, and almost without thought, accepted the +proffered grasp. + +‘And now,’ resumed the lodger, ‘now that I hold in mine your loyal hand, +I lay by my apprehensions, I dismiss suspicion, I go further—by an effort +of will, I banish the memory of what is past. How you came here, I care +not: enough that you are here—as my guest. Sit ye down; and let us, with +your good permission, improve acquaintance over a glass of excellent +whisky.’ + +So speaking, he produced glasses and a bottle: and the pair pledged each +other in silence. + +‘Confess,’ observed the smiling host, ‘you were surprised at the +appearance of the room.’ + +‘I was indeed,’ said Somerset; ‘nor can I imagine the purpose of these +changes.’ + +‘These,’ replied the conspirator, ‘are the devices by which I continue to +exist. Conceive me now, accused before one of your unjust tribunals; +conceive the various witnesses appearing, and the singular variety of +their reports! One will have visited me in this drawing-room as it +originally stood; a second finds it as it is to-night; and to-morrow or +next day, all may have been changed. If you love romance (as artists +do), few lives are more romantic than that of the obscure individual now +addressing you. Obscure yet famous. Mine is an anonymous, infernal +glory. By infamous means, I work towards my bright purpose. I found the +liberty and peace of a poor country, desperately abused; the future +smiles upon that land; yet, in the meantime, I lead the existence of a +hunted brute, work towards appalling ends, and practice hell’s +dexterities.’ + +Somerset, glass in hand, contemplated the strange fanatic before him, and +listened to his heated rhapsody, with indescribable bewilderment. He +looked him in the face with curious particularity; saw there the marks of +education; and wondered the more profoundly. + +‘Sir,’ he said—‘for I know not whether I should still address you as Mr. +Jones—’ + +‘Jones, Breitman, Higginbotham, Pumpernickel, Daviot, Henderland, by all +or any of these you may address me,’ said the plotter; ‘for all I have at +some time borne. Yet that which I most prize, that which is most feared, +hated, and obeyed, is not a name to be found in your directories; it is +not a name current in post-offices or banks; and, indeed, like the +celebrated clan M’Gregor, I may justly describe myself as being nameless +by day. But,’ he continued, rising to his feet, ‘by night, and among my +desperate followers, I am the redoubted Zero.’ + +Somerset was unacquainted with the name, but he politely expressed +surprise and gratification. ‘I am to understand,’ he continued, ‘that, +under this alias, you follow the profession of a dynamiter?’ {176} + +The plotter had resumed his seat and now replenished the glasses. + +‘I do,’ he said. ‘In this dark period of time, a star—the star of +dynamite—has risen for the oppressed; and among those who practise its +use, so thick beset with dangers and attended by such incredible +difficulties and disappointments, few have been more assiduous, and not +many—’ He paused, and a shade of embarrassment appeared upon his +face—‘not many have been more successful than myself.’ + +‘I can imagine,’ observed Somerset, ‘that, from the sweeping consequences +looked for, the career is not devoid of interest. You have, besides, +some of the entertainment of the game of hide and seek. But it would +still seem to me—I speak as a layman—that nothing could be simpler or +safer than to deposit an infernal machine and retire to an adjacent +county to await the painful consequences.’ + +‘You speak, indeed,’ returned the plotter, with some evidence of warmth, +‘you speak, indeed, most ignorantly. Do you make nothing, then, of such +a peril as we share this moment? Do you think it nothing to occupy a +house like this one, mined, menaced, and, in a word, literally tottering +to its fall?’ + +‘Good God!’ ejaculated Somerset. + +‘And when you speak of ease,’ pursued Zero, ‘in this age of scientific +studies, you fill me with surprise. Are you not aware that chemicals are +proverbially fickle as woman, and clockwork as capricious as the very +devil? Do you see upon my brow these furrows of anxiety? Do you observe +the silver threads that mingle with my hair? Clockwork, clockwork has +stamped them on my brow—chemicals have sprinkled them upon my locks! No, +Mr. Somerset,’ he resumed, after a moment’s pause, his voice still +quivering with sensibility, ‘you must not suppose the dynamiter’s life to +be all gold. On the contrary, you cannot picture to yourself the +bloodshot vigils and the staggering disappointments of a life like mine. +I have toiled (let us say) for months, up early and down late; my bag is +ready, my clock set; a daring agent has hurried with white face to +deposit the instrument of ruin; we await the fall of England, the +massacre of thousands, the yell of fear and execration; and lo! a snap +like that of a child’s pistol, an offensive smell, and the entire loss of +so much time and plant! If,’ he concluded, musingly, ‘we had been merely +able to recover the lost bags, I believe with but a touch or two, I could +have remedied the peccant engine. But what with the loss of plant and +the almost insuperable scientific difficulties of the task, our friends +in France are almost ready to desert the chosen medium. They propose, +instead, to break up the drainage system of cities and sweep off whole +populations with the devastating typhoid pestilence: a tempting and a +scientific project: a process, indiscriminate indeed, but of idyllical +simplicity. I recognise its elegance; but, sir, I have something of the +poet in my nature; something, possibly, of the tribune. And, for my +small part, I shall remain devoted to that more emphatic, more striking, +and (if you please) more popular method, of the explosive bomb. Yes,’ he +cried, with unshaken hope, ‘I will still continue, and, I feel it in my +bosom, I shall yet succeed.’ + +‘Two things I remark,’ said Somerset. ‘The first somewhat staggers me. +Have you, then—in all this course of life, which you have sketched so +vividly—have you not once succeeded?’ + +‘Pardon me,’ said Zero. ‘I have had one success. You behold in me the +author of the outrage of Red Lion Court.’ + +‘But if I remember right,’ objected Somerset, ‘the thing was a _fiasco_. +A scavenger’s barrow and some copies of the _Weekly Budget_—these were +the only victims.’ + +‘You will pardon me again,’ returned Zero with positive asperity: ‘a +child was injured.’ + +‘And that fitly brings me to my second point,’ said Somerset. ‘For I +observed you to employ the word “indiscriminate.” Now, surely, a +scavenger’s barrow and a child (if child there were) represent the very +acme and top pin-point of indiscriminate, and, pardon me, of ineffectual +reprisal.’ + +‘Did I employ the word?’ asked Zero. ‘Well, I will not defend it. But +for efficiency, you touch on graver matters; and before entering upon so +vast a subject, permit me once more to fill our glasses. Disputation is +dry work,’ he added, with a charming gaiety of manner. + +Once more accordingly the pair pledged each other in a stalwart grog; and +Zero, leaning back with an air of some complacency, proceeded more +largely to develop his opinions. + +‘The indiscriminate?’ he began. ‘War, my dear sir, is indiscriminate. +War spares not the child; it spares not the barrow of the harmless +scavenger. No more,’ he concluded, beaming, ‘no more do I. Whatever may +strike fear, whatever may confound or paralyse the activities of the +guilty nation, barrow or child, imperial Parliament or excursion steamer, +is welcome to my simple plans. You are not,’ he inquired, with a shade +of sympathetic interest, ‘you are not, I trust, a believer?’ + +‘Sir, I believe in nothing,’ said the young man. + +‘You are then,’ replied Zero, ‘in a position to grasp my argument. We +agree that humanity is the object, the glorious triumph of humanity; and +being pledged to labour for that end, and face to face with the banded +opposition of kings, parliaments, churches, and the members of the force, +who am I—who are we, dear sir—to affect a nicety about the tools +employed? You might, perhaps, expect us to attack the Queen, the +sinister Gladstone, the rigid Derby, or the dexterous Granville; but +there you would be in error. Our appeal is to the body of the people; it +is these that we would touch and interest. Now, sir, have you observed +the English housemaid?’ + +‘I should think I had,’ cried Somerset. + +‘From a man of taste and a votary of art, I had expected it,’ returned +the conspirator politely. ‘A type apart; a very charming figure; and +thoroughly adapted to our ends. The neat cap, the clean print, the +comely person, the engaging manner; her position between classes, parents +in one, employers in another; the probability that she will have at least +one sweet-heart, whose feelings we shall address:—yes, I have a +leaning—call it, if you will, a weakness—for the housemaid. Not that I +would be understood to despise the nurse. For the child is a very +interesting feature: I have long since marked out the child as the +sensitive point in society.’ He wagged his head, with a wise, pensive +smile. ‘And talking, sir, of children and of the perils of our trade, +let me now narrate to you a little incident of an explosive bomb, that +fell out some weeks ago under my own observation. It fell out thus.’ + +And Zero, leaning back in his chair, narrated the following simple tale. + + + +_ZERO’S TALE OF THE EXPLOSIVE BOMB_. {182} + + +I dined by appointment with one of our most trusted agents, in a private +chamber at St. James’s Hall. You have seen the man: it was M’Guire, the +most chivalrous of creatures, but not himself expert in our contrivances. +Hence the necessity of our meeting; for I need not remind you what +enormous issues depend upon the nice adjustment of the engine. I set our +little petard for half an hour, the scene of action being hard by; and +the better to avert miscarriage, employed a device, a recent invention of +my own, by which the opening of the Gladstone bag in which the bomb was +carried, should instantly determine the explosion. M’Guire was somewhat +dashed by this arrangement, which was new to him: and pointed out, with +excellent, clear good sense, that should he be arrested, it would +probably involve him in the fall of our opponents. But I was not to be +moved, made a strong appeal to his patriotism, gave him a good glass of +whisky, and despatched him on his glorious errand. + +Our objective was the effigy of Shakespeare in Leicester Square: a spot, +I think, admirably chosen; not only for the sake of the dramatist, still +very foolishly claimed as a glory by the English race, in spite of his +disgusting political opinions; but from the fact that the seats in the +immediate neighbourhood are often thronged by children, errand-boys, +unfortunate young ladies of the poorer class and infirm old men—all +classes making a direct appeal to public pity, and therefore suitable +with our designs. As M’Guire drew near his heart was inflamed by the +most noble sentiment of triumph. Never had he seen the garden so +crowded; children, still stumbling in the impotence of youth, ran to and +fro, shouting and playing, round the pedestal; an old, sick pensioner sat +upon the nearest bench, a medal on his breast, a stick with which he +walked (for he was disabled by wounds) reclining on his knee. Guilty +England would thus be stabbed in the most delicate quarters; the moment +had, indeed, been well selected; and M’Guire, with a radiant provision of +the event, drew merrily nearer. Suddenly his eye alighted on the burly +form of a policeman, standing hard by the effigy in an attitude of watch. +My bold companion paused; he looked about him closely; here and there, at +different points of the enclosure, other men stood or loitered, affecting +an abstraction, feigning to gaze upon the shrubs, feigning to talk, +feigning to be weary and to rest upon the benches. M’Guire was no child +in these affairs; he instantly divined one of the plots of the +Machiavellian Gladstone. + +A chief difficulty with which we have to deal, is a certain nervousness +in the subaltern branches of the corps; as the hour of some design draws +near, these chicken-souled conspirators appear to suffer some revulsion +of intent; and frequently despatch to the authorities, not indeed +specific denunciations, but vague anonymous warnings. But for this +purely accidental circumstance, England had long ago been an historical +expression. On the receipt of such a letter, the Government lay a trap +for their adversaries, and surround the threatened spot with hirelings. +My blood sometimes boils in my veins, when I consider the case of those +who sell themselves for money in such a cause. True, thanks to the +generosity of our supporters, we patriots receive a very comfortable +stipend; I myself, of course, touch a salary which puts me quite beyond +the reach of any peddling, mercenary thoughts; M’Guire, again, ere he +joined our ranks, was on the brink of starving, and now, thank God! +receives a decent income. That is as it should be; the patriot must not +be diverted from his task by any base consideration; and the distinction +between our position and that of the police is too obvious to be stated. + +Plainly, however, our Leicester Square design had been divulged; the +Government had craftily filled the place with minions; even the pensioner +was not improbably a hireling in disguise; and our emissary, without +other aid or protection than the simple apparatus in his bag, found +himself confronted by force; brutal force; that strong hand which was a +character of the ages of oppression. Should he venture to deposit the +machine, it was almost certain that he would be observed and arrested; a +cry would arise; and there was just a fear that the police might not be +present in sufficient force, to protect him from the savagery of the mob. +The scheme must be delayed. He stood with his bag on his arm, pretending +to survey the front of the Alhambra, when there flashed into his mind a +thought to appal the bravest. The machine was set; at the appointed +hour, it must explode; and how, in the interval, was he to be rid of it? + +Put yourself, I beseech you, into the body of that patriot. There he +was, friendless and helpless; a man in the very flower of life, for he is +not yet forty; with long years of happiness before him; and now +condemned, in one moment, to a cruel and revolting death by dynamite! +The square, he said, went round him like a thaumatrope; he saw the +Alhambra leap into the air like a balloon; and reeled against the +railing. It is probable he fainted. + +When he came to himself, a constable had him by the arm. + +‘My God!’ he cried. + +‘You seem to be unwell, sir,’ said the hireling. + +‘I feel better now,’ cried poor M’Guire: and with uneven steps, for the +pavement of the square seemed to lurch and reel under his footing, he +fled from the scene of this disaster. Fled? Alas, from what was he +fleeing? Did he not carry that from which he fled along with him? and +had he the wings of the eagle, had he the swiftness of the ocean winds, +could he have been rapt into the uttermost quarters of the earth, how +should he escape the ruin that he carried? We have heard of living men +who have been fettered to the dead; the grievance, soberly considered, is +no more than sentimental; the case is but a flea-bite to that of him who +should be linked, like poor M’Guire, to an explosive bomb. + +A thought struck him in Green Street, like a dart through his liver: +suppose it were the hour already. He stopped as though he had been shot, +and plucked his watch out. There was a howling in his ears, as loud as a +winter tempest; his sight was now obscured as if by a cloud, now, as by a +lightning flash, would show him the very dust upon the street. But so +brief were these intervals of vision, and so violently did the watch +vibrate in his hands, that it was impossible to distinguish the numbers +on the dial. He covered his eyes for a few seconds; and in that space, +it seemed to him that he had fallen to be a man of ninety. When he +looked again, the watch-plate had grown legible: he had twenty minutes. +Twenty minutes, and no plan! + +Green Street, at that time, was very empty; and he now observed a little +girl of about six drawing near to him, and as she came, kicking in front +of her, as children will, a piece of wood. She sang, too; and something +in her accent recalling him to the past, produced a sudden clearness in +his mind. Here was a God-sent opportunity! + +‘My dear,’ said he, ‘would you like a present of a pretty bag?’ + +The child cried aloud with joy and put out her hands to take it. She had +looked first at the bag, like a true child; but most unfortunately, +before she had yet received the fatal gift, her eyes fell directly on +M’Guire; and no sooner had she seen the poor gentleman’s face, than she +screamed out and leaped backward, as though she had seen the devil. +Almost at the same moment a woman appeared upon the threshold of a +neighbouring shop, and called upon the child in anger. ‘Come here, +colleen,’ she said, ‘and don’t be plaguing the poor old gentleman!’ With +that she re-entered the house, and the child followed her, sobbing aloud. + +With the loss of this hope M’Guire’s reason swooned within him. When +next he awoke to consciousness, he was standing before St. +Martin’s-in-the-Fields, wavering like a drunken man; the passers-by +regarding him with eyes in which he read, as in a glass, an image of the +terror and horror that dwelt within his own. + +‘I am afraid you are very ill, sir,’ observed a woman, stopping and +gazing hard in his face. ‘Can I do anything to help you?’ + +‘Ill?’ said M’Guire. ‘O God!’ And then, recovering some shadow of his +self-command, ‘Chronic, madam,’ said he: ‘a long course of the dumb ague. +But since you are so compassionate—an errand that I lack the strength to +carry out,’ he gasped—‘this bag to Portman Square. Oh, compassionate +woman, as you hope to be saved, as you are a mother, in the name of your +babes that wait to welcome you at home, oh, take this bag to Portman +Square! I have a mother, too,’ he added, with a broken voice. ‘Number +19, Portman Square.’ + +I suppose he had expressed himself with too much energy of voice; for the +woman was plainly taken with a certain fear of him. ‘Poor gentleman!’ +said she. ‘If I were you, I would go home.’ And she left him standing +there in his distress. + +‘Home!’ thought M’Guire, ‘what a derision!’ What home was there for him, +the victim of philanthropy? He thought of his old mother, of his happy +youth; of the hideous, rending pang of the explosion; of the possibility +that he might not be killed, that he might be cruelly mangled, crippled +for life, condemned to lifelong pains, blinded perhaps, and almost surely +deafened. Ah, you spoke lightly of the dynamiter’s peril; but even +waiving death, have you realised what it is for a fine, brave young man +of forty, to be smitten suddenly with deafness, cut off from all the +music of life, and from the voice of friendship, and love? How little do +we realise the sufferings of others! Even your brutal Government, in the +heyday of its lust for cruelty, though it scruples not to hound the +patriot with spies, to pack the corrupt jury, to bribe the hangman, and +to erect the infamous gallows, would hesitate to inflict so horrible a +doom: not, I am well aware, from virtue, not from philanthropy, but with +the fear before it of the withering scorn of the good. + +But I wander from M’Guire. From this dread glance into the past and +future, his thoughts returned at a bound upon the present. How had he +wandered there? and how long—oh, heavens! how long had he been about it? +He pulled out his watch; and found that but three minutes had elapsed. +It seemed too bright a thing to be believed. He glanced at the church +clock; and sure enough, it marked an hour four minutes faster than the +watch. + +Of all that he endured, M’Guire declares that pang was the most desolate. +Till then, he had had one friend, one counsellor, in whom he plenarily +trusted; by whose advertisement, he numbered the minutes that remained to +him of life; on whose sure testimony, he could tell when the time was +come to risk the last adventure, to cast the bag away from him, and take +to flight. And now in what was he to place reliance? His watch was +slow; it might be losing time; if so, in what degree? What limit could +he set to its derangement? and how much was it possible for a watch to +lose in thirty minutes? Five? ten? fifteen? It might be so; already, it +seemed years since he had left St. James’s Hall on this so promising +enterprise; at any moment, then, the blow was to be looked for. + +In the face of this new distress, the wild disorder of his pulses settled +down; and a broken weariness succeeded, as though he had lived for +centuries and for centuries been dead. The buildings and the people in +the street became incredibly small, and far-away, and bright; London +sounded in his ears stilly, like a whisper; and the rattle of the cab +that nearly charged him down, was like a sound from Africa. Meanwhile, +he was conscious of a strange abstraction from himself; and heard and +felt his footfalls on the ground, as those of a very old, small, debile +and tragically fortuned man, whom he sincerely pitied. + +As he was thus moving forward past the National Gallery, in a medium, it +seemed, of greater rarity and quiet than ordinary air, there slipped into +his mind the recollection of a certain entry in Whitcomb Street hard by, +where he might perhaps lay down his tragic cargo unremarked. Thither, +then, he bent his steps, seeming, as he went, to float above the +pavement; and there, in the mouth of the entry, he found a man in a +sleeved waistcoat, gravely chewing a straw. He passed him by, and twice +patrolled the entry, scouting for the barest chance; but the man had +faced about and continued to observe him curiously. + +Another hope was gone. M’Guire reissued from the entry, still followed +by the wondering eyes of the man in the sleeved waistcoat. He once more +consulted his watch: there were but fourteen minutes left to him. At +that, it seemed as if a sudden, genial heat were spread about his brain; +for a second or two, he saw the world as red as blood; and thereafter +entered into a complete possession of himself, with an incredible +cheerfulness of spirits, prompting him to sing and chuckle as he walked. +And yet this mirth seemed to belong to things external; and within, like +a black and leaden-heavy kernel, he was conscious of the weight upon his +soul. + + I care for nobody, no, not I, + And nobody cares for me, + +he sang, and laughed at the appropriate burthen, so that the passengers +stared upon him on the street. And still the warmth seemed to increase +and to become more genial. What was life? he considered, and what he, +M’Guire? What even Erin, our green Erin? All seemed so incalculably +little that he smiled as he looked down upon it. He would have given +years, had he possessed them, for a glass of spirits; but time failed, +and he must deny himself this last indulgence. + +At the corner of the Haymarket, he very jauntily hailed a hansom cab; +jumped in; bade the fellow drive him to a part of the Embankment, which +he named; and as soon as the vehicle was in motion, concealed the bag as +completely as he could under the vantage of the apron, and once more drew +out his watch. So he rode for five interminable minutes, his heart in +his mouth at every jolt, scarce able to possess his terrors, yet fearing +to wake the attention of the driver by too obvious a change of plan, and +willing, if possible, to leave him time to forget the Gladstone bag. + +At length, at the head of some stairs on the Embankment, he hailed; the +cab was stopped; and he alighted—with how glad a heart! He thrust his +hand into his pocket. All was now over; he had saved his life; nor that +alone, but he had engineered a striking act of dynamite; for what could +be more pictorial, what more effective, than the explosion of a hansom +cab, as it sped rapidly along the streets of London. He felt in one +pocket; then in another. The most crushing seizure of despair descended +on his soul; and struck into abject dumbness, he stared upon the driver. +He had not one penny. + +‘Hillo,’ said the driver, ‘don’t seem well.’ + +‘Lost my money,’ said M’Guire, in tones so faint and strange that they +surprised his hearing. + +The man looked through the trap. ‘I dessay,’ said he: ‘you’ve left your +bag.’ + +M’Guire half unconsciously fetched it out; and looking on that black +continent at arm’s length, withered inwardly and felt his features +sharpen as with mortal sickness. + +‘This is not mine,’ said he. ‘Your last fare must have left it. You had +better take it to the station.’ + +‘Now look here,’ returned the cabman: ‘are you off your chump? or am I?’ + +‘Well, then, I’ll tell you what,’ exclaimed M’Guire; ‘you take it for +your fare!’ + +‘Oh, I dessay,’ replied the driver. ‘Anything else? What’s _in_ your +bag? Open it, and let me see.’ + +‘No, no,’ returned M’Guire. ‘Oh no, not that. It’s a surprise; it’s +prepared expressly: a surprise for honest cabmen.’ + +‘No, you don’t,’ said the man, alighting from his perch, and coming very +close to the unhappy patriot. ‘You’re either going to pay my fare, or +get in again and drive to the office.’ + +It was at this supreme hour of his distress, that M’Guire spied the stout +figure of one Godall, a tobacconist of Rupert Street, drawing near along +the Embankment. The man was not unknown to him; he had bought of his +wares, and heard him quoted for the soul of liberality; and such was now +the nearness of his peril, that even at such a straw of hope, he clutched +with gratitude. + +‘Thank God!’ he cried. ‘Here comes a friend of mine. I’ll borrow.’ And +he dashed to meet the tradesman. ‘Sir,’ said he, ‘Mr. Godall, I have +dealt with you—you doubtless know my face—calamities for which I cannot +blame myself have overwhelmed me. Oh, sir, for the love of innocence, +for the sake of the bonds of humanity, and as you hope for mercy at the +throne of grace, lend me two-and-six!’ + +‘I do not recognise your face,’ replied Mr. Godall; ‘but I remember the +cut of your beard, which I have the misfortune to dislike. Here, sir, is +a sovereign; which I very willingly advance to you, on the single +condition that you shave your chin.’ + +M’Guire grasped the coin without a word; cast it to the cabman, calling +out to him to keep the change; bounded down the steps, flung the bag far +forth into the river, and fell headlong after it. He was plucked from a +watery grave, it is believed, by the hands of Mr. Godall. Even as he was +being hoisted dripping to the shore, a dull and choked explosion shook +the solid masonry of the Embankment, and far out in the river a momentary +fountain rose and disappeared. + + + + +_THE SUPERFLUOUS MANSION_ +(_Continued_) + + +Somerset in vain strove to attach a meaning to these words. He had, in +the meanwhile, applied himself assiduously to the flagon; the plotter +began to melt in twain, and seemed to expand and hover on his seat; and +with a vague sense of nightmare, the young man rose unsteadily to his +feet, and, refusing the proffer of a third grog, insisted that the hour +was late and he must positively get to bed. + +‘Dear me,’ observed Zero, ‘I find you very temperate. But I will not be +oppressive. Suffice it that we are now fast friends; and, my dear +landlord, _au revoir_!’ + +So saying the plotter once more shook hands; and with the politest +ceremonies, and some necessary guidance, conducted the bewildered young +gentleman to the top of the stair. + +Precisely, how he got to bed, was a point on which Somerset remained in +utter darkness; but the next morning when, at a blow, he started broad +awake, there fell upon his mind a perfect hurricane of horror and wonder. +That he should have suffered himself to be led into the semblance of +intimacy with such a man as his abominable lodger, appeared, in the cold +light of day, a mystery of human weakness. True, he was caught in a +situation that might have tested the aplomb of Talleyrand. That was +perhaps a palliation; but it was no excuse. For so wholesale a +capitulation of principle, for such a fall into criminal familiarity, no +excuse indeed was possible; nor any remedy, but to withdraw at once from +the relation. + +As soon as he was dressed, he hurried upstairs, determined on a rupture. +Zero hailed him with the warmth of an old friend. + +‘Come in,’ he cried, ‘dear Mr. Somerset! Come in, sit down, and, without +ceremony, join me at my morning meal.’ + +‘Sir,’ said Somerset, ‘you must permit me first to disengage my honour. +Last night, I was surprised into a certain appearance of complicity; but +once for all, let me inform you that I regard you and your machinations +\with unmingled horror and disgust, and I will leave no stone unturned to +crush your vile conspiracy.’ + +‘My dear fellow,’ replied Zero, with an air of some complacency, ‘I am +well accustomed to these human weaknesses. Disgust? I have felt it +myself; it speedily wears off. I think none the worse, I think the more +of you, for this engaging frankness. And in the meanwhile, what are you +to do? You find yourself, if I interpret rightly, in very much the same +situation as Charles the Second (possibly the least degraded of your +British sovereigns) when he was taken into the confidence of the thief. +To denounce me, is out of the question; and what else can you attempt? +No, dear Mr. Somerset, your hands are tied; and you find yourself +condemned, under pain of behaving like a cad, to be that same charming +and intellectual companion who delighted me last night.’ + +‘At least,’ cried Somerset, ‘I can, and do, order you to leave this +house.’ + +‘Ah!’ cried the plotter, ‘but there I fail to follow you. You may, if +you please, enact the part of Judas; but if, as I suppose, you recoil +from that extremity of meanness, I am, on my side, far too intelligent to +leave these lodgings, in which I please myself exceedingly, and from +which you lack the power to drive me. No, no, dear sir; here I am, and +here I propose to stay.’ + +‘I repeat,’ cried Somerset, beside himself with a sense of his own +weakness, ‘I repeat that I give you warning. I am the master of this +house; and I emphatically give you warning.’ + +‘A week’s warning?’ said the imperturbable conspirator. ‘Very well: we +will talk of it a week from now. That is arranged; and in the meanwhile, +I observe my breakfast growing cold. Do, dear Mr. Somerset, since you +find yourself condemned, for a week at least, to the society of a very +interesting character, display some of that open favour, some of that +interest in life’s obscurer sides, which stamp the character of the true +artist. Hang me, if you will, to-morrow; but to-day show yourself +divested of the scruples of the burgess, and sit down pleasantly to share +my meal.’ + +‘Man!’ cried Somerset, ‘do you understand my sentiments?’ + +‘Certainly,’ replied Zero; ‘and I respect them! Would you be outdone in +such a contest? will you alone be partial? and in this nineteenth +century, cannot two gentlemen of education agree to differ on a point of +politics? Come, sir: all your hard words have left me smiling; judge +then, which of us is the philosopher!’ + +Somerset was a young man of a very tolerant disposition and by nature +easily amenable to sophistry. He threw up his hands with a gesture of +despair, and took the seat to which the conspirator invited him. The +meal was excellent; the host not only affable, but primed with curious +information. He seemed, indeed, like one who had too long endured the +torture of silence, to exult in the most wholesale disclosures. The +interest of what he had to tell was great; his character, besides, +developed step by step; and Somerset, as the time fled, not only outgrew +some of the discomfort of his false position, but began to regard the +conspirator with a familiarity that verged upon contempt. In any +circumstances, he had a singular inability to leave the society in which +he found himself; company, even if distasteful, held him captive like a +limed sparrow; and on this occasion, he suffered hour to follow hour, was +easily persuaded to sit down once more to table, and did not even attempt +to withdraw till, on the approach of evening, Zero, with many apologies, +dismissed his guest. His fellow-conspirators, the dynamiter handsomely +explained, as they were unacquainted with the sterling qualities of the +young man, would be alarmed at the sight of a strange face. + +As soon as he was alone, Somerset fell back upon the humour of the +morning. He raged at the thought of his facility; he paced the +dining-room, forming the sternest resolutions for the future; he wrung +the hand which had been dishonoured by the touch of an assassin; and +among all these whirling thoughts, there flashed in from time to time, +and ever with a chill of fear, the thought of the confounded ingredients +with which the house was stored. A powder magazine seemed a secure +smoking-room alongside of the Superfluous Mansion. + +He sought refuge in flight, in locomotion, in the flowing bowl. As long +as the bars were open, he travelled from one to another, seeking light, +safety, and the companionship of human faces; when these resources failed +him, he fell back on the belated baked-potato man; and at length, still +pacing the streets, he was goaded to fraternise with the police. Alas, +with what a sense of guilt he conversed with these guardians of the law; +how gladly had he wept upon their ample bosoms; and how the secret +fluttered to his lips and was still denied an exit! Fatigue began at +last to triumph over remorse; and about the hour of the first milkman, he +returned to the door of the mansion; looked at it with a horrid +expectation, as though it should have burst that instant into flames; +drew out his key, and when his foot already rested on the steps, once +more lost heart and fled for repose to the grisly shelter of a +coffee-shop. + +It was on the stroke of noon when he awoke. Dismally searching in his +pockets, he found himself reduced to half-a-crown; and when he had paid +the price of his distasteful couch, saw himself obliged to return to the +Superfluous Mansion. He sneaked into the hall and stole on tiptoe to the +cupboard where he kept his money. Yet half a minute, he told himself, +and he would be free for days from his obseding lodger, and might decide +at leisure on the course he should pursue. But fate had otherwise +designed: there came a tap at the door and Zero entered. + +‘Have I caught you?’ he cried, with innocent gaiety. ‘Dear fellow, I was +growing quite impatient.’ And on the speaker’s somewhat stolid face, +there came a glow of genuine affection. ‘I am so long unused to have a +friend,’ he continued, ‘that I begin to be afraid I may prove jealous.’ +And he wrung the hand of his landlord. + +Somerset was, of all men, least fit to deal with such a greeting. To +reject these kind advances was beyond his strength. That he could not +return cordiality for cordiality, was already almost more than he could +carry. That inequality between kind sentiments which, to generous +characters, will always seem to be a sort of guilt, oppressed him to the +ground; and he stammered vague and lying words. + +‘That is all right,’ cried Zero—‘that is as it should be—say no more! I +had a vague alarm; I feared you had deserted me; but I now own that fear +to have been unworthy, and apologise. To doubt of your forgiveness were +to repeat my sin. Come, then; dinner waits; join me again and tell me +your adventures of the night.’ + +Kindness still sealed the lips of Somerset; and he suffered himself once +more to be set down to table with his innocent and criminal acquaintance. +Once more, the plotter plunged up to the neck in damaging disclosures: +now it would be the name and biography of an individual, now the address +of some important centre, that rose, as if by accident, upon his lips; +and each word was like another turn of the thumbscrew to his unhappy +guest. Finally, the course of Zero’s bland monologue led him to the +young lady of two days ago: that young lady, who had flashed on Somerset +for so brief a while but with so conquering a charm; and whose engaging +grace, communicative eyes, and admirable conduct of the sweeping skirt, +remained imprinted on his memory. + +‘You saw her?’ said Zero. ‘Beautiful, is she not? She, too, is one of +ours: a true enthusiast: nervous, perhaps, in presence of the chemicals; +but in matters of intrigue, the very soul of skill and daring. Lake, +Fonblanque, de Marly, Valdevia, such are some of the names that she +employs; her true name—but there, perhaps, I go too far. Suffice it, +that it is to her I owe my present lodging, and, dear Somerset, the +pleasure of your acquaintance. It appears she knew the house. You see +dear fellow, I make no concealment: all that you can care to hear, I tell +you openly.’ + +‘For God’s sake,’ cried the wretched Somerset, ‘hold your tongue! You +cannot imagine how you torture me!’ + +A shade of serious discomposure crossed the open countenance of Zero. + +‘There are times,’ he said, ‘when I begin to fancy that you do not like +me. Why, why, dear Somerset, this lack of cordiality? I am depressed; +the touchstone of my life draws near; and if I fail’—he gloomily +nodded—‘from all the height of my ambitious schemes, I fall, dear boy, +into contempt. These are grave thoughts, and you may judge my need of +your delightful company. Innocent prattler, you relieve the weight of my +concerns. And yet . . . and yet . . .’ The speaker pushed away his +plate, and rose from table. ‘Follow me,’ said he, ‘follow me. My mood +is on; I must have air, I must behold the plain of battle.’ + +So saying, he led the way hurriedly to the top flat of the mansion, and +thence, by ladder and trap, to a certain leaded platform, sheltered at +one end by a great stalk of chimneys and occupying the actual summit of +the roof. On both sides, it bordered, without parapet or rail, on the +incline of slates; and, northward above all, commanded an extensive view +of housetops, and rising through the smoke, the distant spires of +churches. + +‘Here,’ cried Zero, ‘you behold this field of city, rich, crowded, +laughing with the spoil of continents; but soon, how soon, to be laid +low! Some day, some night, from this coign of vantage, you shall perhaps +be startled by the detonation of the judgment gun—not sharp and empty +like the crack of cannon, but deep-mouthed and unctuously solemn. +Instantly thereafter, you shall behold the flames break forth. Ay,’ he +cried, stretching forth his hand, ‘ay, that will be a day of retribution. +Then shall the pallid constable flee side by side with the detected +thief. Blaze!’ he cried, ‘blaze, derided city! Fall, flatulent +monarchy, fall like Dagon!’ + +With these words his foot slipped upon the lead; and but for Somerset’s +quickness, he had been instantly precipitated into space. Pale as a +sheet, and limp as a pocket-handkerchief, he was dragged from the edge of +downfall by one arm; helped, or rather carried, down the ladder; and +deposited in safety on the attic landing. Here he began to come to +himself, wiped his brow, and at length, seizing Somerset’s hand in both +of his, began to utter his acknowledgments. + +‘This seals it,’ said he. ‘Ours is a life and death connection. You +have plucked me from the jaws of death; and if I were before attracted by +your character, judge now of the ardour of my gratitude and love! But I +perceive I am still greatly shaken. Lend me, I beseech you, lend me your +arm as far as my apartment.’ + +A dram of spirits restored the plotter to something of his customary +self-possession; and he was standing, glass in hand and genially +convalescent, when his eye was attracted by the dejection of the +unfortunate young man. + +‘Good heavens, dear Somerset,’ he cried, ‘what ails you? Let me offer +you a touch of spirits.’ + +But Somerset had fallen below the reach of this material comfort. + +‘Let me be,’ he said. ‘I am lost; you have caught me in the toils. Up +to this moment, I have lived all my life in the most reckless manner, and +done exactly what I pleased, with the most perfect innocence. And +now—what am I? Are you so blind and wooden that you do not see the +loathing you inspire me with? Is it possible you can suppose me willing +to continue to exist upon such terms? To think,’ he cried, ‘that a young +man, guilty of no fault on earth but amiability, should find himself +involved in such a damned imbroglio!’ And placing his knuckles in his +eyes, Somerset rolled upon the sofa. + +‘My God,’ said Zero, ‘is this possible? And I so filled with tenderness +and interest! Can it be, dear Somerset, that you are under the empire of +these out-worn scruples? or that you judge a patriot by the morality of +the religious tract? I thought you were a good agnostic.’ + +‘Mr. Jones,’ said Somerset, ‘it is in vain to argue. I boast myself a +total disbeliever, not only in revealed religion, but in the data, +method, and conclusions of the whole of ethics. Well! what matters it? +what signifies a form of words? I regard you as a reptile, whom I would +rejoice, whom I long, to stamp under my heel. You would blow up others? +Well then, understand: I want, with every circumstance of infamy and +agony, to blow up you!’ + +‘Somerset, Somerset!’ said Zero, turning very pale, ‘this is wrong; this +is very wrong. You pain, you wound me, Somerset.’ + +‘Give me a match!’ cried Somerset wildly. ‘Let me set fire to this +incomparable monster! Let me perish with him in his fall!’ + +‘For God’s sake,’ cried Zero, clutching hold of the young man, ‘for God’s +sake command yourself! We stand upon the brink; death yawns around us; a +man—a stranger in this foreign land—one whom you have called your +friend—’ + +‘Silence!’ cried Somerset, ‘you are no friend, no friend of mine. I look +on you with loathing, like a toad: my flesh creeps with physical +repulsion; my soul revolts against the sight of you.’ + +Zero burst into tears. ‘Alas!’ he sobbed, ‘this snaps the last link that +bound me to humanity. My friend disowns—he insults me. I am indeed +accurst.’ + +Somerset stood for an instant staggered by this sudden change of front. +The next moment, with a despairing gesture, he fled from the room and +from the house. The first dash of his escape carried him hard upon +half-way to the next police-office: but presently began to droop; and +before he reached the house of lawful intervention, he fell once more +among doubtful counsels. Was he an agnostic? had he a right to act? +Away with such nonsense, and let Zero perish! ran his thoughts. And then +again: had he not promised, had he not shaken hands and broken bread? and +that with open eyes? and if so how could he take action, and not forfeit +honour? But honour? what was honour? A figment, which, in the hot +pursuit of crime, he ought to dash aside. Ay, but crime? A figment, +too, which his enfranchised intellect discarded. All day, he wandered in +the parks, a prey to whirling thoughts; all night, patrolled the city; +and at the peep of day he sat down by the wayside in the neighbourhood of +Peckham and bitterly wept. His gods had fallen. He who had chosen the +broad, daylit, unencumbered paths of universal scepticism, found himself +still the bondslave of honour. He who had accepted life from a point of +view as lofty as the predatory eagle’s, though with no design to prey; he +who had clearly recognised the common moral basis of war, of commercial +competition, and of crime; he who was prepared to help the escaping +murderer or to embrace the impenitent thief, found, to the overthrow of +all his logic, that he objected to the use of dynamite. The dawn crept +among the sleeping villas and over the smokeless fields of city; and +still the unfortunate sceptic sobbed over his fall from consistency. + +At length, he rose and took the rising sun to witness. ‘There is no +question as to fact,’ he cried; ‘right and wrong are but figments and the +shadow of a word; but for all that, there are certain things that I +cannot do, and there are certain others that I will not stand.’ +Thereupon he decided to return to make one last effort of persuasion, +and, if he could not prevail on Zero to desist from his infernal trade, +throw delicacy to the winds, give the plotter an hour’s start, and +denounce him to the police. Fast as he went, being winged by this +resolution, it was already well on in the morning when he came in sight +of the Superfluous Mansion. Tripping down the steps, was the young lady +of the various aliases; and he was surprised to see upon her countenance +the marks of anger and concern. + +‘Madam,’ he began, yielding to impulse and with no clear knowledge of +what he was to add. + +But at the sound of his voice she seemed to experience a shock of fear or +horror; started back; lowered her veil with a sudden movement; and fled, +without turning, from the square. + +Here then, we step aside a moment from following the fortunes of +Somerset, and proceed to relate the strange and romantic episode of THE +BROWN BOX. + + + + +DESBOROUGH’S ADVENTURE + + +_THE BROWN BOX_ + + +Mr. Harry Desborough lodged in the fine and grave old quarter of +Bloomsbury, roared about on every side by the high tides of London, but +itself rejoicing in romantic silences and city peace. It was in Queen +Square that he had pitched his tent, next door to the Children’s +Hospital, on your left hand as you go north: Queen Square, sacred to +humane and liberal arts, whence homes were made beautiful, where the poor +were taught, where the sparrows were plentiful and loud, and where groups +of patient little ones would hover all day long before the hospital, if +by chance they might kiss their hand or speak a word to their sick +brother at the window. Desborough’s room was on the first floor and +fronted to the square; but he enjoyed besides, a right by which he often +profited, to sit and smoke upon a terrace at the back, which looked down +upon a fine forest of back gardens, and was in turn commanded by the +windows of an empty room. + +On the afternoon of a warm day, Desborough sauntered forth upon this +terrace, somewhat out of hope and heart, for he had been now some weeks +on the vain quest of situations, and prepared for melancholy and tobacco. +Here, at least, he told himself that he would be alone; for, like most +youths, who are neither rich, nor witty, nor successful, he rather +shunned than courted the society of other men. Even as he expressed the +thought, his eye alighted on the window of the room that looked upon the +terrace; and to his surprise and annoyance, he beheld it curtained with a +silken hanging. It was like his luck, he thought; his privacy was gone, +he could no longer brood and sigh unwatched, he could no longer suffer +his discouragement to find a vent in words or soothe himself with +sentimental whistling; and in the irritation of the moment, he struck his +pipe upon the rail with unnecessary force. It was an old, sweet, +seasoned briar-root, glossy and dark with long employment, and justly +dear to his fancy. What, then, was his chagrin, when the head snapped +from the stem, leaped airily in space, and fell and disappeared among the +lilacs of the garden? + +He threw himself savagely into the garden chair, pulled out the +story-paper which he had brought with him to read, tore off a fragment of +the last sheet, which contains only the answers to correspondents, and +set himself to roll a cigarette. He was no master of the art; again and +again, the paper broke between his fingers and the tobacco showered upon +the ground; and he was already on the point of angry resignation, when +the window swung slowly inward, the silken curtain was thrust aside, and +a lady, somewhat strangely attired, stepped forth upon the terrace. + +‘Señorito,’ said she, and there was a rich thrill in her voice, like an +organ note, ‘Señorito, you are in difficulties. Suffer me to come to +your assistance.’ + +With the words, she took the paper and tobacco from his unresisting +hands; and with a facility that, in Desborough’s eyes, seemed magical, +rolled and presented him a cigarette. He took it, still seated, still +without a word; staring with all his eyes upon that apparition. Her face +was warm and rich in colour; in shape, it was that piquant triangle, so +innocently sly, so saucily attractive, so rare in our more northern +climates; her eyes were large, starry, and visited by changing lights; +her hair was partly covered by a lace mantilla, through which her arms, +bare to the shoulder, gleamed white; her figure, full and soft in all the +womanly contours, was yet alive and active, light with excess of life, +and slender by grace of some divine proportion. + +‘You do not like my cigarrito, Señor?’ she asked. ‘Yet it is better made +than yours.’ At that she laughed, and her laughter trilled in his ear +like music; but the next moment her face fell. ‘I see,’ she cried. ‘It +is my manner that repels you. I am too constrained, too cold. I am +not,’ she added, with a more engaging air, ‘I am not the simple English +maiden I appear.’ + +‘Oh!’ murmured Harry, filled with inexpressible thoughts. + +‘In my own dear land,’ she pursued, ‘things are differently ordered. +There, I must own, a girl is bound by many and rigorous restrictions; +little is permitted her; she learns to be distant, she learns to appear +forbidding. But here, in free England—oh, glorious liberty!’ she cried, +and threw up her arms with a gesture of inimitable grace—‘here there are +no fetters; here the woman may dare to be herself entirely, and the men, +the chivalrous men—is it not written on the very shield of your nation, +_honi soit_? Ah, it is hard for me to learn, hard for me to dare to be +myself. You must not judge me yet awhile; I shall end by conquering this +stiffness, I shall end by growing English. Do I speak the language +well?’ + +‘Perfectly—oh, perfectly!’ said Harry, with a fervency of conviction +worthy of a graver subject. + +‘Ah, then,’ she said, ‘I shall soon learn; English blood ran in my +father’s veins; and I have had the advantage of some training in your +expressive tongue. If I speak already without accent, with my thorough +English appearance, there is nothing left to change except my manners.’ + +‘Oh no,’ said Desborough. ‘Oh pray not! I—madam—’ + +‘I am,’ interrupted the lady, ‘the Señorita Teresa Valdevia. The evening +air grows chill. Adios, Señorito.’ And before Harry could stammer out a +word, she had disappeared into her room. + +He stood transfixed, the cigarette still unlighted in his hand. His +thoughts had soared above tobacco, and still recalled and beautified the +image of his new acquaintance. Her voice re-echoed in his memory; her +eyes, of which he could not tell the colour, haunted his soul. The +clouds had risen at her coming, and he beheld a new-created world. What +she was, he could not fancy, but he adored her. Her age, he durst not +estimate; fearing to find her older than himself, and thinking sacrilege +to couple that fair favour with the thought of mortal changes. As for +her character, beauty to the young is always good. So the poor lad +lingered late upon the terrace, stealing timid glances at the curtained +window, sighing to the gold laburnums, rapt into the country of romance; +and when at length he entered and sat down to dine, on cold boiled mutton +and a pint of ale, he feasted on the food of gods. + +Next day when he returned to the terrace, the window was a little ajar, +and he enjoyed a view of the lady’s shoulder, as she sat patiently sewing +and all unconscious of his presence. On the next, he had scarce appeared +when the window opened, and the Señorita tripped forth into the sunlight, +in a morning disorder, delicately neat, and yet somehow foreign, +tropical, and strange. In one hand she held a packet. + +‘Will you try,’ she said, ‘some of my father’s tobacco—from dear Cuba? +There, as I suppose you know, all smoke, ladies as well as gentlemen. So +you need not fear to annoy me. The fragrance will remind me of home. My +home, Señor, was by the sea.’ And as she uttered these few words, +Desborough, for the first time in his life, realised the poetry of the +great deep. ‘Awake or asleep, I dream of it: dear home, dear Cuba!’ + +‘But some day,’ said Desborough, with an inward pang, ‘some day you will +return?’ + +‘Never!’ she cried; ‘ah, never, in Heaven’s name!’ + +‘Are you then resident for life in England?’ he inquired, with a strange +lightening of spirit. + +‘You ask too much, for you ask more than I know,’ she answered sadly; and +then, resuming her gaiety of manner: ‘But you have not tried my Cuban +tobacco,’ she said. + +‘Señorita,’ said he, shyly abashed by some shadow of coquetry in her +manner, ‘whatever comes to me—you—I mean,’ he concluded, deeply flushing, +‘that I have no doubt the tobacco is delightful.’ + +‘Ah, Señor,’ she said, with almost mournful gravity, ‘you seemed so +simple and good, and already you are trying to pay compliments—and +besides,’ she added, brightening, with a quick upward glance, into a +smile, ‘you do it so badly! English gentlemen, I used to hear, could be +fast friends, respectful, honest friends; could be companions, +comforters, if the need arose, or champions, and yet never encroach. Do +not seek to please me by copying the graces of my countrymen. Be +yourself: the frank, kindly, honest English gentleman that I have heard +of since my childhood and still longed to meet.’ + +Harry, much bewildered, and far from clear as to the manners of the Cuban +gentlemen, strenuously disclaimed the thought of plagiarism. + +‘Your national seriousness of bearing best becomes you, Señor,’ said the +lady. ‘See!’ marking a line with her dainty, slippered foot, ‘thus far +it shall be common ground; there, at my window-sill, begins the +scientific frontier. If you choose, you may drive me to my forts; but +if, on the other hand, we are to be real English friends, I may join you +here when I am not too sad; or, when I am yet more graciously inclined, +you may draw your chair beside the window and teach me English customs, +while I work. You will find me an apt scholar, for my heart is in the +task.’ She laid her hand lightly upon Harry’s arm, and looked into his +eyes. ‘Do you know,’ said she, ‘I am emboldened to believe that I have +already caught something of your English aplomb? Do you not perceive a +change, Señor? Slight, perhaps, but still a change? Is my deportment +not more open, more free, more like that of the dear “British Miss” than +when you saw me first?’ She gave a radiant smile; withdrew her hand from +Harry’s arm; and before the young man could formulate in words the +eloquent emotions that ran riot through his brain—with an ‘Adios, Señor: +good-night, my English friend,’ she vanished from his sight behind the +curtain. + +The next day Harry consumed an ounce of tobacco in vain upon the neutral +terrace; neither sight nor sound rewarded him, and the dinner-hour +summoned him at length from the scene of disappointment. On the next it +rained; but nothing, neither business nor weather, neither prospective +poverty nor present hardship, could now divert the young man from the +service of his lady; and wrapt in a long ulster, with the collar raised, +he took his stand against the balustrade, awaiting fortune, the picture +of damp and discomfort to the eye, but glowing inwardly with tender and +delightful ardours. Presently the window opened, and the fair Cuban, +with a smile imperfectly dissembled, appeared upon the sill. + +‘Come here,’ she said, ‘here, beside my window. The small verandah gives +a belt of shelter.’ And she graciously handed him a folding-chair. + +As he sat down, visibly aglow with shyness and delight, a certain +bulkiness in his pocket reminded him that he was not come empty-handed. + +‘I have taken the liberty,’ said he, ‘of bringing you a little book. I +thought of you, when I observed it on the stall, because I saw it was in +Spanish. The man assured me it was by one of the best authors, and quite +proper.’ As he spoke, he placed the little volume in her hand. Her eyes +fell as she turned the pages, and a flush rose and died again upon her +cheeks, as deep as it was fleeting. ‘You are angry,’ he cried in agony. +‘I have presumed.’ + +‘No, Señor, it is not that,’ returned the lady. ‘I—’ and a flood of +colour once more mounted to her brow—‘I am confused and ashamed because I +have deceived you. Spanish,’ she began, and paused—‘Spanish is, of +course, my native tongue,’ she resumed, as though suddenly taking +courage; ‘and this should certainly put the highest value on your +thoughtful present; but alas, sir, of what use is it to me? And how +shall I confess to you the truth—the humiliating truth—that I cannot +read?’ + +As Harry’s eyes met hers in undisguised amazement, the fair Cuban seemed +to shrink before his gaze. ‘Read?’ repeated Harry. ‘You!’ + +She pushed the window still more widely open with a large and noble +gesture. ‘Enter, Señor,’ said she. ‘The time has come to which I have +long looked forward, not without alarm; when I must either fear to lose +your friendship, or tell you without disguise the story of my life.’ + +It was with a sentiment bordering on devotion, that Harry passed the +window. A semi-barbarous delight in form and colour had presided over +the studied disorder of the room in which he found himself. It was +filled with dainty stuffs, furs and rugs and scarves of brilliant hues, +and set with elegant and curious trifles-fans on the mantelshelf, an +antique lamp upon a bracket, and on the table a silver-mounted bowl of +cocoa-nut about half full of unset jewels. The fair Cuban, herself a gem +of colour and the fit masterpiece for that rich frame, motioned Harry to +a seat, and sinking herself into another, thus began her history. + + + +_STORY OF THE FAIR CUBAN_ + + +I am not what I seem. My father drew his descent, on the one hand, from +grandees of Spain, and on the other, through the maternal line, from the +patriot Bruce. My mother, too, was the descendant of a line of kings; +but, alas! these kings were African. She was fair as the day: fairer +than I, for I inherited a darker strain of blood from the veins of my +European father; her mind was noble, her manners queenly and +accomplished; and seeing her more than the equal of her neighbours, and +surrounded by the most considerate affection and respect, I grew up to +adore her, and when the time came, received her last sigh upon my lips, +still ignorant that she was a slave, and alas! my father’s mistress. Her +death, which befell me in my sixteenth year, was the first sorrow I had +known: it left our home bereaved of its attractions, cast a shade of +melancholy on my youth, and wrought in my father a tragic and durable +change. Months went by; with the elasticity of my years, I regained some +of the simple mirth that had before distinguished me; the plantation +smiled with fresh crops; the negroes on the estate had already forgotten +my mother and transferred their simple obedience to myself; but still the +cloud only darkened on the brows of Señor Valdevia. His absences from +home had been frequent even in the old days, for he did business in +precious gems in the city of Havana; they now became almost continuous; +and when he returned, it was but for the night and with the manner of a +man crushed down by adverse fortune. + +The place where I was born and passed my days was an isle set in the +Caribbean Sea, some half-hour’s rowing from the coasts of Cuba. It was +steep, rugged, and, except for my father’s family and plantation, +uninhabited and left to nature. The house, a low building surrounded by +spacious verandahs, stood upon a rise of ground and looked across the sea +to Cuba. The breezes blew about it gratefully, fanned us as we lay +swinging in our silken hammocks, and tossed the boughs and flowers of the +magnolia. Behind and to the left, the quarter of the negroes and the +waving fields of the plantation covered an eighth part of the surface of +the isle. On the right and closely bordering on the garden, lay a vast +and deadly swamp, densely covered with wood, breathing fever, dotted with +profound sloughs, and inhabited by poisonous oysters, man-eating crabs, +snakes, alligators, and sickly fishes. Into the recesses of that jungle, +none could penetrate but those of African descent; an invisible, +unconquerable foe lay there in wait for the European; and the air was +death. + +One morning (from which I must date the beginning of my ruinous +misfortune) I left my room a little after day, for in that warm climate +all are early risers, and found not a servant to attend upon my wants. I +made the circuit of the house, still calling: and my surprise had almost +changed into alarm, when coming at last into a large verandahed court, I +found it thronged with negroes. Even then, even when I was amongst them, +not one turned or paid the least regard to my arrival. They had eyes and +ears for but one person: a woman, richly and tastefully attired; of +elegant carriage, and a musical speech; not so much old in years, as worn +and marred by self-indulgence: her face, which was still attractive, +stamped with the most cruel passions, her eye burning with the greed of +evil. It was not from her appearance, I believe, but from some emanation +of her soul, that I recoiled in a kind of fainting terror; as we hear of +plants that blight and snakes that fascinate, the woman shocked and +daunted me. But I was of a brave nature; trod the weakness down; and +forcing my way through the slaves, who fell back before me in +embarrassment, as though in the presence of rival mistresses, I asked, in +imperious tones: ‘Who is this person?’ + +A slave girl, to whom I had been kind, whispered in my ear to have a +care, for that was Madam Mendizabal; but the name was new to me. + +In the meanwhile the woman, applying a pair of glasses to her eyes, +studied me with insolent particularity from head to foot. + +‘Young woman,’ said she, at last, ‘I have had a great experience in +refractory servants, and take a pride in breaking them. You really tempt +me; and if I had not other affairs, and these of more importance, on my +hand, I should certainly buy you at your father’s sale.’ + +‘Madam—’ I began, but my voice failed me. + +‘Is it possible that you do not know your position?’ she returned, with a +hateful laugh. ‘How comical! Positively, I must buy her. +Accomplishments, I suppose?’ she added, turning to the servants. + +Several assured her that the young mistress had been brought up like any +lady, for so it seemed in their inexperience. + +‘She would do very well for my place of business in Havana,’ said the +Señora Mendizabal, once more studying me through her glasses; ‘and I +should take a pleasure,’ she pursued, more directly addressing myself, +‘in bringing you acquainted with a whip.’ And she smiled at me with a +savoury lust of cruelty upon her face. + +At this, I found expression. Calling by name upon the servants, I bade +them turn this woman from the house, fetch her to the boat, and set her +back upon the mainland. But with one voice, they protested that they +durst not obey, coming close about me, pleading and beseeching me to be +more wise; and, when I insisted, rising higher in passion and speaking of +this foul intruder in the terms she had deserved, they fell back from me +as from one who had blasphemed. A superstitious reverence plainly +encircled the stranger; I could read it in their changed demeanour, and +in the paleness that prevailed upon the natural colour of their faces; +and their fear perhaps reacted on myself. I looked again at Madam +Mendizabal. She stood perfectly composed, watching my face through her +glasses with a smile of scorn; and at the sight of her assured +superiority to all my threats, a cry broke from my lips, a cry of rage, +fear, and despair, and I fled from the verandah and the house. + +I ran I knew not where, but it was towards the beach. As I went, my head +whirled; so strange, so sudden, were these events and insults. Who was +she? what, in Heaven’s name, the power she wielded over my obedient +negroes? Why had she addressed me as a slave? why spoken of my father’s +sale? To all these tumultuary questions I could find no answer; and in +the turmoil of my mind, nothing was plain except the hateful leering +image of the woman. + +I was still running, mad with fear and anger, when I saw my father coming +to meet me from the landing-place; and with a cry that I thought would +have killed me, leaped into his arms and broke into a passion of sobs and +tears upon his bosom. He made me sit down below a tall palmetto that +grew not far off; comforted me, but with some abstraction in his voice; +and as soon as I regained the least command upon my feelings, asked me, +not without harshness, what this grief betokened. I was surprised by his +tone into a still greater measure of composure; and in firm tones, though +still interrupted by sobs, I told him there was a stranger in the island, +at which I thought he started and turned pale; that the servants would +not obey me; that the stranger’s name was Madam Mendizabal, and, at that, +he seemed to me both troubled and relieved; that she had insulted me, +treated me as a slave (and here my father’s brow began to darken), +threatened to buy me at a sale, and questioned my own servants before my +face; and that, at last, finding myself quite helpless and exposed to +these intolerable liberties, I had fled from the house in terror, +indignation, and amazement. + +‘Teresa,’ said my father, with singular gravity of voice, ‘I must make +to-day a call upon your courage; much must be told you, there is much +that you must do to help me; and my daughter must prove herself a woman +by her spirit. As for this Mendizabal, what shall I say? or how am I to +tell you what she is? Twenty years ago, she was the loveliest of slaves; +to-day she is what you see her—prematurely old, disgraced by the practice +of every vice and every nefarious industry, but free, rich, married, they +say, to some reputable man, whom may Heaven assist! and exercising among +her ancient mates, the slaves of Cuba, an influence as unbounded as its +reason is mysterious. Horrible rites, it is supposed, cement her empire: +the rites of Hoodoo. Be that as it may, I would have you dismiss the +thought of this incomparable witch; it is not from her that danger +threatens us; and into her hands, I make bold to promise, you shall never +fall.’ + +‘Father!’ I cried. ‘Fall? Was there any truth, then, in her words? Am +I—O father, tell me plain; I can bear anything but this suspense.’ + +‘I will tell you,’ he replied, with merciful bluntness. ‘Your mother was +a slave; it was my design, so soon as I had saved a competence, to sail +to the free land of Britain, where the law would suffer me to marry her: +a design too long procrastinated; for death, at the last moment, +intervened. You will now understand the heaviness with which your +mother’s memory hangs about my neck.’ + +I cried out aloud, in pity for my parents; and in seeking to console the +survivor, I forgot myself. + +‘It matters not,’ resumed my father. ‘What I have left undone can never +be repaired, and I must bear the penalty of my remorse. But, Teresa, +with so cutting a reminder of the evils of delay, I set myself at once to +do what was still possible: to liberate yourself.’ + +I began to break forth in thanks, but he checked me with a sombre +roughness. + +‘Your mother’s illness,’ he resumed, ‘had engaged too great a portion of +my time; my business in the city had lain too long at the mercy of +ignorant underlings; my head, my taste, my unequalled knowledge of the +more precious stones, that art by which I can distinguish, even on the +darkest night, a sapphire from a ruby, and tell at a glance in what +quarter of the earth a gem was disinterred—all these had been too long +absent from the conduct of affairs. Teresa, I was insolvent.’ + +‘What matters that?’ I cried. ‘What matters poverty, if we be left +together with our love and sacred memories?’ + +‘You do not comprehend,’ he said gloomily. ‘Slave, as you are, +young—alas! scarce more than child!—accomplished, beautiful with the most +touching beauty, innocent as an angel—all these qualities that should +disarm the very wolves and crocodiles, are, in the eyes of those to whom +I stand indebted, commodities to buy and sell. You are a chattel; a +marketable thing; and worth—heavens, that I should say such words!—worth +money. Do you begin to see? If I were to give you freedom, I should +defraud my creditors; the manumission would be certainly annulled; you +would be still a slave, and I a criminal.’ + +I caught his hand in mine, kissed it, and moaned in pity for myself, in +sympathy for my father. + +‘How I have toiled,’ he continued, ‘how I have dared and striven to +repair my losses, Heaven has beheld and will remember. Its blessing was +denied to my endeavours, or, as I please myself by thinking, but delayed +to descend upon my daughter’s head. At length, all hope was at an end; I +was ruined beyond retrieve; a heavy debt fell due upon the morrow, which +I could not meet; I should be declared a bankrupt, and my goods, my +lands, my jewels that I so much loved, my slaves whom I have spoiled and +rendered happy, and oh! tenfold worse, you, my beloved daughter, would be +sold and pass into the hands of ignorant and greedy traffickers. Too +long, I saw, had I accepted and profited by this great crime of slavery; +but was my daughter, my innocent unsullied daughter, was _she_ to pay the +price? I cried out—no!—I took Heaven to witness my temptation; I caught +up this bag and fled. Close upon my track are the pursuers; perhaps +to-night, perhaps to-morrow, they will land upon this isle, sacred to the +memory of the dear soul that bore you, to consign your father to an +ignominious prison, and yourself to slavery and dishonour. We have not +many hours before us. Off the north coast of our isle, by strange good +fortune, an English yacht has for some days been hovering. It belongs to +Sir George Greville, whom I slightly know, to whom ere now I have +rendered unusual services, and who will not refuse to help in our escape. +Or if he did, if his gratitude were in default, I have the power to force +him. For what does it mean, my child—what means this Englishman, who +hangs for years upon the shores of Cuba, and returns from every trip with +new and valuable gems?’ + +‘He may have found a mine,’ I hazarded. + +‘So he declares,’ returned my father; ‘but the strange gift I have +received from nature, easily transpierced the fable. He brought me +diamonds only, which I bought, at first, in innocence; at a second +glance, I started; for of these stones, my child, some had first seen the +day in Africa, some in Brazil; while others, from their peculiar water +and rude workmanship, I divined to be the spoil of ancient temples. Thus +put upon the scent, I made inquiries. Oh, he is cunning, but I was +cunninger than he. He visited, I found, the shop of every jeweller in +town; to one he came with rubies, to one with emeralds, to one with +precious beryl; to all, with this same story of the mine. But in what +mine, what rich epitome of the earth’s surface, were there conjoined the +rubies of Ispahan, the pearls of Coromandel, and the diamonds of +Golconda? No, child, that man, for all his yacht and title, that man +must fear and must obey me. To-night, then, as soon as it is dark, we +must take our way through the swamp by the path which I shall presently +show you; thence, across the highlands of the isle, a track is blazed, +which shall conduct us to the haven on the north; and close by the yacht +is riding. Should my pursuers come before the hour at which I look to +see them, they will still arrive too late; a trusty man attends on the +mainland; as soon as they appear, we shall behold, if it be dark, the +redness of a fire, if it be day, a pillar of smoke, on the opposing +headland; and thus warned, we shall have time to put the swamp between +ourselves and danger. Meantime, I would conceal this bag; I would, +before all things, be seen to arrive at the house with empty hands; a +blabbing slave might else undo us. For see!’ he added; and holding up +the bag, which he had already shown me, he poured into my lap a shower of +unmounted jewels, brighter than flowers, of every size and colour, and +catching, as they fell, upon a million dainty facets, the ardour of the +sun. + +I could not restrain a cry of admiration. + +‘Even in your ignorant eyes,’ pursued my father, ‘they command respect. +Yet what are they but pebbles, passive to the tool, cold as death? +Ingrate!’ he cried. ‘Each one of these—miracles of nature’s patience, +conceived out of the dust in centuries of microscopical activity, each +one is, for you and me, a year of life, liberty, and mutual affection. +How, then, should I cherish them! and why do I delay to place them beyond +reach! Teresa, follow me.’ + +He rose to his feet, and led me to the borders of the great jungle, where +they overhung, in a wall of poisonous and dusky foliage, the declivity of +the hill on which my father’s house stood planted. For some while he +skirted, with attentive eyes, the margin of the thicket. Then, seeming +to recognise some mark, for his countenance became immediately lightened +of a load of thought, he paused and addressed me. ‘Here,’ said he, ‘is +the entrance of the secret path that I have mentioned, and here you shall +await me. I but pass some hundreds of yards into the swamp to bury my +poor treasure; as soon as that is safe, I will return.’ It was in vain +that I sought to dissuade him, urging the dangers of the place; in vain +that I begged to be allowed to follow, pleading the black blood that I +now knew to circulate in my veins: to all my appeals he turned a deaf +ear, and, bending back a portion of the screen of bushes, disappeared +into the pestilential silence of the swamp. + +At the end of a full hour, the bushes were once more thrust aside; and my +father stepped from out the thicket, and paused and almost staggered in +the first shock of the blinding sunlight. His face was of a singular +dusky red; and yet for all the heat of the tropical noon, he did not seem +to sweat. + +‘You are tired,’ I cried, springing to meet him. ‘You are ill.’ + +‘I am tired,’ he replied; ‘the air in that jungle stifles one; my eyes, +besides, have grown accustomed to its gloom, and the strong sunshine +pierces them like knives. A moment, Teresa, give me but a moment. All +shall yet be well. I have buried the hoard under a cypress, immediately +beyond the bayou, on the left-hand margin of the path; beautiful, bright +things, they now lie whelmed in slime; you shall find them there, if +needful. But come, let us to the house; it is time to eat against our +journey of the night: to eat and then to sleep, my poor Teresa: then to +sleep.’ And he looked upon me out of bloodshot eyes, shaking his head as +if in pity. + +We went hurriedly, for he kept murmuring that he had been gone too long, +and that the servants might suspect; passed through the airy stretch of +the verandah; and came at length into the grateful twilight of the +shuttered house. The meal was spread; the house servants, already +informed by the boatmen of the master’s return, were all back at their +posts, and terrified, as I could see, to face me. My father still +murmuring of haste with weary and feverish pertinacity, I hurried at once +to take my place at table; but I had no sooner left his arm than he +paused and thrust forth both his hands with a strange gesture of groping. +‘How is this?’ he cried, in a sharp, unhuman voice. ‘Am I blind?’ I ran +to him and tried to lead him to the table; but he resisted and stood +stiffly where he was, opening and shutting his jaws, as if in a painful +effort after breath. Then suddenly he raised both hands to his temples, +cried out, ‘My head, my head!’ and reeled and fell against the wall. + +I knew too well what it must be. I turned and begged the servants to +relieve him. But they, with one accord, denied the possibility of hope; +the master had gone into the swamp, they said, the master must die; all +help was idle. Why should I dwell upon his sufferings? I had him +carried to a bed, and watched beside him. He lay still, and at times +ground his teeth, and talked at times unintelligibly, only that one word +of hurry, hurry, coming distinctly to my ears, and telling me that, even +in the last struggle with the powers of death, his mind was still +tortured by his daughter’s peril. The sun had gone down, the darkness +had fallen, when I perceived that I was alone on this unhappy earth. +What thought had I of flight, of safety, of the impending dangers of my +situation? Beside the body of my last friend, I had forgotten all except +the natural pangs of my bereavement. + +The sun was some four hours above the eastern line, when I was recalled +to a knowledge of the things of earth, by the entrance of the slave-girl +to whom I have already referred. The poor soul was indeed devotedly +attached to me; and it was with streaming tears that she broke to me the +import of her coming. With the first light of dawn a boat had reached +our landing-place, and set on shore upon our isle (till now so fortunate) +a party of officers bearing a warrant to arrest my father’s person, and a +man of a gross body and low manners, who declared the island, the +plantation, and all its human chattels, to be now his own. ‘I think,’ +said my slave-girl, ‘he must be a politician or some very powerful +sorcerer; for Madam Mendizabal had no sooner seen them coming, than she +took to the woods.’ + +‘Fool,’ said I, ‘it was the officers she feared; and at any rate why does +that beldam still dare to pollute the island with her presence? And O +Cora,’ I exclaimed, remembering my grief, ‘what matter all these troubles +to an orphan?’ + +‘Mistress,’ said she, ‘I must remind you of two things. Never speak as +you do now of Madam Mendizabal; or never to a person of colour; for she +is the most powerful woman in this world, and her real name even, if one +durst pronounce it, were a spell to raise the dead. And whatever you do, +speak no more of her to your unhappy Cora; for though it is possible she +may be afraid of the police (and indeed I think that I have heard she is +in hiding), and though I know that you will laugh and not believe, yet it +is true, and proved, and known that she hears every word that people +utter in this whole vast world; and your poor Cora is already deep enough +in her black books. She looks at me, mistress, till my blood turns ice. +That is the first I had to say; and now for the second: do, pray, for +Heaven’s sake, bear in mind that you are no longer the poor Señor’s +daughter. He is gone, dear gentleman; and now you are no more than a +common slave-girl like myself. The man to whom you belong calls for you; +oh, my dear mistress, go at once! With your youth and beauty, you may +still, if you are winning and obedient, secure yourself an easy life.’ + +For a moment I looked on the creature with the indignation you may +conceive; the next, it was gone: she did but speak after her kind, as the +bird sings or cattle bellow. ‘Go,’ said I. ‘Go, Cora. I thank you for +your kind intentions. Leave me alone one moment with my dead father; and +tell this man that I will come at once.’ + +She went: and I, turning to the bed of death, addressed to those deaf +ears the last appeal and defence of my beleaguered innocence. ‘Father,’ +I said, ‘it was your last thought, even in the pangs of dissolution, that +your daughter should escape disgrace. Here, at your side, I swear to you +that purpose shall be carried out; by what means, I know not; by crime, +if need be; and Heaven forgive both you and me and our oppressors, and +Heaven help my helplessness!’ Thereupon I felt strengthened as by long +repose; stepped to the mirror, ay, even in that chamber of the dead; +hastily arranged my hair, refreshed my tear-worn eyes, breathed a dumb +farewell to the originator of my days and sorrows; and composing my +features to a smile, went forth to meet my master. + +He was in a great, hot bustle, reviewing that house, once ours, to which +he had but now succeeded; a corpulent, sanguine man of middle age, +sensual, vulgar, humorous, and, if I judged rightly, not ill-disposed by +nature. But the sparkle that came into his eye as he observed me enter, +warned me to expect the worst. + +‘Is this your late mistress?’ he inquired of the slaves; and when he had +learnt it was so, instantly dismissed them. ‘Now, my dear,’ said he, ‘I +am a plain man: none of your damned Spaniards, but a true blue, +hard-working, honest Englishman. My name is Caulder.’ + +‘Thank you, sir,’ said I, and curtsied very smartly as I had seen the +servants. + +‘Come,’ said he, ‘this is better than I had expected; and if you choose +to be dutiful in the station to which it has pleased God to call you, you +will find me a very kind old fellow. I like your looks,’ he added, +calling me by my name, which he scandalously mispronounced. ‘Is your +hair all your own?’ he then inquired with a certain sharpness, and coming +up to me, as though I were a horse, he grossly satisfied his doubts. I +was all one flame from head to foot, but I contained my righteous anger +and submitted. ‘That is very well,’ he continued, chucking me good +humouredly under the chin. ‘You will have no cause to regret coming to +old Caulder, eh? But that is by the way. What is more to the point is +this: your late master was a most dishonest rogue, and levanted with some +valuable property that belonged of rights to me. Now, considering your +relation to him, I regard you as the likeliest person to know what has +become of it; and I warn you, before you answer, that my whole future +kindness will depend upon your honesty. I am an honest man myself, and +expect the same in my servants.’ + +‘Do you mean the jewels?’ said I, sinking my voice into a whisper. + +‘That is just precisely what I do,’ said he, and chuckled. + +‘Hush!’ said I. + +‘Hush?’ he repeated. ‘And why hush? I am on my own place, I would have +you to know, and surrounded by my own lawful servants.’ + +‘Are the officers gone?’ I asked; and oh! how my hopes hung upon the +answer! + +‘They are,’ said he, looking somewhat disconcerted. ‘Why do you ask?’ + +‘I wish you had kept them,’ I answered, solemnly enough, although my +heart at that same moment leaped with exultation. ‘Master, I must not +conceal from you the truth. The servants on this estate are in a +dangerous condition, and mutiny has long been brewing.’ + +‘Why,’ he cried, ‘I never saw a milder-looking lot of niggers in my +life.’ But for all that he turned somewhat pale. + +‘Did they tell you,’ I continued, ‘that Madam Mendizabal is on the +island? that, since her coming, they obey none but her? that if, this +morning, they have received you with even decent civility, it was only by +her orders—issued with what after-thought I leave you to consider?’ + +‘Madam Jezebel?’ said he. ‘Well, she is a dangerous devil; the police +are after her, besides, for a whole series of murders; but after all, +what then? To be sure, she has a great influence with you coloured folk. +But what in fortune’s name can be her errand here?’ + +‘The jewels,’ I replied. ‘Ah, sir, had you seen that treasure, sapphire +and emerald and opal, and the golden topaz, and rubies red as the +sunset—of what incalculable worth, of what unequalled beauty to the +eye!—had you seen it, as I have, and alas! as _she_ has—you would +understand and tremble at your danger.’ + +‘She has seen them!’ he cried, and I could see by his face, that my +audacity was justified by its success. + +I caught his hand in mine. ‘My master,’ said I, ‘I am now yours; it is +my duty, it should be my pleasure, to defend your interests and life. +Hear my advice, then; and, I conjure you, be guided by my prudence. +Follow me privily; let none see where we are going; I will lead you to +the place where the treasure has been buried; that once disinterred, let +us make straight for the boat, escape to the mainland, and not return to +this dangerous isle without the countenance of soldiers.’ + +What free man in a free land would have credited so sudden a devotion? +But this oppressor, through the very arts and sophistries he had abused, +to quiet the rebellion of his conscience and to convince himself that +slavery was natural, fell like a child into the trap I laid for him. He +praised and thanked me; told me I had all the qualities he valued in a +servant; and when he had questioned me further as to the nature and value +of the treasure, and I had once more artfully inflamed his greed, bade me +without delay proceed to carry out my plan of action. + +From a shed in the garden, I took a pick and shovel; and thence, by +devious paths among the magnolias, led my master to the entrance of the +swamp. I walked first, carrying, as I was now in duty bound, the tools, +and glancing continually behind me, lest we should be spied upon and +followed. When we were come as far as the beginning of the path, it +flashed into my mind I had forgotten meat; and leaving Mr. Caulder in the +shadow of a tree, I returned alone to the house for a basket of +provisions. Were they for him? I asked myself. And a voice within me +answered, No. While we were face to face, while I still saw before my +eyes the man to whom I belonged as the hand belongs to the body, my +indignation held me bravely up. But now that I was alone, I conceived a +sickness at myself and my designs that I could scarce endure; I longed to +throw myself at his feet, avow my intended treachery, and warn him from +that pestilential swamp, to which I was decoying him to die; but my vow +to my dead father, my duty to my innocent youth, prevailed upon these +scruples; and though my face was pale and must have reflected the horror +that oppressed my spirits, it was with a firm step that I returned to the +borders of the swamp, and with smiling lips that I bade him rise and +follow me. + +The path on which we now entered was cut, like a tunnel, through the +living jungle. On either hand and overhead, the mass of foliage was +continuously joined; the day sparingly filtered through the depth of +super-impending wood; and the air was hot like steam, and heady with +vegetable odours, and lay like a load upon the lungs and brain. +Underfoot, a great depth of mould received our silent footprints; on each +side, mimosas, as tall as a man, shrank from my passing skirts with a +continuous hissing rustle; and but for these sentient vegetables, all in +that den of pestilence was motionless and noiseless. + +We had gone but a little way in, when Mr. Caulder was seized with sudden +nausea, and must sit down a moment on the path. My heart yearned, as I +beheld him; and I seriously begged the doomed mortal to return upon his +steps. What were a few jewels in the scales with life? I asked. But no, +he said; that witch Madam Jezebel would find them out; he was an honest +man, and would not stand to be defrauded, and so forth, panting the +while, like a sick dog. Presently he got to his feet again, protesting +he had conquered his uneasiness; but as we again began to go forward, I +saw in his changed countenance, the first approaches of death. + +‘Master,’ said I, ‘you look pale, deathly pale; your pallor fills me with +dread. Your eyes are bloodshot; they are red like the rubies that we +seek.’ + +‘Wench,’ he cried, ‘look before you; look at your steps. I declare to +Heaven, if you annoy me once again by looking back, I shall remind you of +the change in your position.’ + +A little after, I observed a worm upon the ground, and told, in a +whisper, that its touch was death. Presently a great green serpent, +vivid as the grass in spring, wound rapidly across the path; and once +again I paused and looked back at my companion, with a horror in my eyes. +‘The coffin snake,’ said I, ‘the snake that dogs its victim like a +hound.’ + +But he was not to be dissuaded. ‘I am an old traveller,’ said he. ‘This +is a foul jungle indeed; but we shall soon be at an end.’ + +‘Ay,’ said I, looking at him, with a strange smile, ‘what end?’ + +Thereupon he laughed again and again, but not very heartily; and then, +perceiving that the path began to widen and grow higher, ‘There!’ said +he. ‘What did I tell you? We are past the worst.’ + +Indeed, we had now come to the bayou, which was in that place very narrow +and bridged across by a fallen trunk; but on either hand we could see it +broaden out, under a cavern of great arms of trees and hanging creepers: +sluggish, putrid, of a horrible and sickly stench, floated on by the flat +heads of alligators, and its banks alive with scarlet crabs. + +‘If we fall from that unsteady bridge,’ said I, ‘see, where the caiman +lies ready to devour us! If, by the least divergence from the path, we +should be snared in a morass, see, where those myriads of scarlet vermin +scour the border of the thicket! Once helpless, how they would swarm +together to the assault! What could man do against a thousand of such +mailed assailants? And what a death were that, to perish alive under +their claws.’ + +‘Are you mad, girl?’ he cried. ‘I bid you be silent and lead on.’ + +Again I looked upon him, half relenting; and at that he raised the stick +that was in his hand and cruelly struck me on the face. ‘Lead on!’ he +cried again. ‘Must I be all day, catching my death in this vile slough, +and all for a prating slave-girl?’ + +I took the blow in silence, I took it smiling; but the blood welled back +upon my heart. Something, I know not what, fell at that moment with a +dull plunge in the waters of the lagoon, and I told myself it was my pity +that had fallen. + +On the farther side, to which we now hastily scrambled, the wood was not +so dense, the web of creepers not so solidly convolved. It was possible, +here and there, to mark a patch of somewhat brighter daylight, or to +distinguish, through the lighter web of parasites, the proportions of +some soaring tree. The cypress on the left stood very visibly forth, +upon the edge of such a clearing; the path in that place widened broadly; +and there was a patch of open ground, beset with horrible ant-heaps, +thick with their artificers. I laid down the tools and basket by the +cypress root, where they were instantly blackened over with the crawling +ants; and looked once more in the face of my unconscious victim. +Mosquitoes and foul flies wove so close a veil between us that his +features were obscured; and the sound of their flight was like the +turning of a mighty wheel. + +‘Here,’ I said, ‘is the spot. I cannot dig, for I have not learned to +use such instruments; but, for your own sake, I beseech you to be swift +in what you do.’ + +He had sunk once more upon the ground, panting like a fish; and I saw +rising in his face the same dusky flush that had mantled on my father’s. +‘I feel ill,’ he gasped, ‘horribly ill; the swamp turns around me; the +drone of these carrion flies confounds me. Have you not wine?’ + +I gave him a glass, and he drank greedily. ‘It is for you to think,’ +said I, ‘if you should further persevere. The swamp has an ill name.’ +And at the word I ominously nodded. + +‘Give me the pick,’ said he. ‘Where are the jewels buried?’ + +I told him vaguely; and in the sweltering heat and closeness, and dim +twilight of the jungle, he began to wield the pickaxe, swinging it +overhead with the vigour of a healthy man. At first, there broke forth +upon him a strong sweat, that made his face to shine, and in which the +greedy insects settled thickly. + +‘To sweat in such a place,’ said I. ‘O master, is this wise? Fever is +drunk in through open pores.’ + +‘What do you mean?’ he screamed, pausing with the pick buried in the +soil. ‘Do you seek to drive me mad? Do you think I do not understand +the danger that I run?’ + +‘That is all I want,’ said I: ‘I only wish you to be swift.’ And then, +my mind flitting to my father’s deathbed, I began to murmur, scarce above +my breath, the same vain repetition of words, ‘Hurry, hurry, hurry.’ + +Presently, to my surprise, the treasure-seeker took them up; and while he +still wielded the pick, but now with staggering and uncertain blows, +repeated to himself, as it were the burthen of a song, ‘Hurry, hurry, +hurry;’ and then again, ‘There is no time to lose; the marsh has an ill +name, ill name;’ and then back to ‘Hurry, hurry, hurry,’ with a dreadful, +mechanical, hurried, and yet wearied utterance, as a sick man rolls upon +his pillow. The sweat had disappeared; he was now dry, but all that I +could see of him, of the same dull brick red. Presently his pick +unearthed the bag of jewels; but he did not observe it, and continued +hewing at the soil. + +‘Master,’ said I, ‘there is the treasure.’ He seemed to waken from a +dream. ‘Where?’ he cried; and then, seeing it before his eyes, ‘Can this +be possible?’ he added. ‘I must be light-headed. Girl,’ he cried +suddenly, with the same screaming tone of voice that I had once before +observed, ‘what is wrong? is this swamp accursed?’ + +‘It is a grave,’ I answered. ‘You will not go out alive; and as for me, +my life is in God’s hands.’ + +He fell upon the ground like a man struck by a blow, but whether from the +effect of my words, or from sudden seizure of the malady, I cannot tell. +Pretty soon, he raised his head. ‘You have brought me here to die,’ he +said; ‘at the risk of your own days, you have condemned me. Why?’ + +‘To save my honour,’ I replied. ‘Bear me out that I have warned you. +Greed of these pebbles, and not I, has been your undoer.’ + +He took out his revolver and handed it to me. ‘You see,’ he said, ‘I +could have killed you even yet. But I am dying, as you say; nothing +could save me; and my bill is long enough already. Dear me, dear me,’ he +said, looking in my face with a curious, puzzled, and pathetic look, like +a dull child at school, ‘if there be a judgment afterwards, my bill is +long enough.’ + +At that, I broke into a passion of weeping, crawled at his feet, kissed +his hands, begged his forgiveness, put the pistol back into his grasp and +besought him to avenge his death; for indeed, if with my life I could +have bought back his, I had not balanced at the cost. But he was +determined, the poor soul, that I should yet more bitterly regret my act. + +‘I have nothing to forgive,’ said he. ‘Dear heaven, what a thing is an +old fool! I thought, upon my word, you had taken quite a fancy to me.’ + +He was seized, at the same time, with a dreadful, swimming dizziness, +clung to me like a child, and called upon the name of some woman. +Presently this spasm, which I watched with choking tears, lessened and +died away; and he came again to the full possession of his mind. ‘I must +write my will,’ he said. ‘Get out my pocket-book.’ I did so, and he +wrote hurriedly on one page with a pencil. ‘Do not let my son know,’ he +said; ‘he is a cruel dog, is my son Philip; do not let him know how you +have paid me out;’ and then all of a sudden, ‘God,’ he cried, ‘I am +blind,’ and clapped both hands before his eyes; and then again, and in a +groaning whisper, ‘Don’t leave me to the crabs!’ I swore I would be true +to him so long as a pulse stirred; and I redeemed my promise. I sat +there and watched him, as I had watched my father, but with what +different, with what appalling thoughts! Through the long afternoon, he +gradually sank. All that while, I fought an uphill battle to shield him +from the swarms of ants and the clouds of mosquitoes: the prisoner of my +crime. The night fell, the roar of insects instantly redoubled in the +dark arcades of the swamp; and still I was not sure that he had breathed +his last. At length, the flesh of his hand, which I yet held in mine, +grew chill between my fingers, and I knew that I was free. + +I took his pocket-book and the revolver, being resolved rather to die +than to be captured, and laden besides with the basket and the bag of +gems, set forward towards the north. The swamp, at that hour of the +night, was filled with a continuous din: animals and insects of all +kinds, and all inimical to life, contributing their parts. Yet in the +midst of this turmoil of sound, I walked as though my eyes were bandaged, +beholding nothing. The soil sank under my foot, with a horrid, slippery +consistence, as though I were walking among toads; the touch of the thick +wall of foliage, by which alone I guided myself, affrighted me like the +touch of serpents; the darkness checked my breathing like a gag; indeed, +I have never suffered such extremes of fear as during that nocturnal +walk, nor have I ever known a more sensible relief than when I found the +path beginning to mount and to grow firmer under foot, and saw, although +still some way in front of me, the silver brightness of the moon. + +Presently, I had crossed the last of the jungle, and come forth amongst +noble and lofty woods, clean rock, the clean, dry dust, the aromatic +smell of mountain plants that had been baked all day in sunlight, and the +expressive silence of the night. My negro blood had carried me unhurt +across that reeking and pestiferous morass; by mere good fortune, I had +escaped the crawling and stinging vermin with which it was alive; and I +had now before me the easier portion of my enterprise, to cross the isle +and to make good my arrival at the haven and my acceptance on the English +yacht. It was impossible by night to follow such a track as my father +had described; and I was casting about for any landmark, and, in my +ignorance, vainly consulting the disposition of the stars, when there +fell upon my ear, from somewhere far in front, the sound of many voices +hurriedly singing. + +I scarce knew upon what grounds I acted; but I shaped my steps in the +direction of that sound; and in a quarter of an hour’s walking, came +unperceived to the margin of an open glade. It was lighted by the strong +moon and by the flames of a fire. In the midst, there stood a little low +and rude building, surmounted by a cross: a chapel, as I then remembered +to have heard, long since desecrated and given over to the rites of +Hoodoo. Hard by the steps of entrance was a black mass, continually +agitated and stirring to and fro as if with inarticulate life; and this I +presently perceived to be a heap of cocks, hares, dogs, and other birds +and animals, still struggling, but helplessly tethered and cruelly tossed +one upon another. Both the fire and the chapel were surrounded by a ring +of kneeling Africans, both men and women. Now they would raise their +palms half-closed to heaven, with a peculiar, passionate gesture of +supplication; now they would bow their heads and spread their hands +before them on the ground. As the double movement passed and repassed +along the line, the heads kept rising and falling, like waves upon the +sea; and still, as if in time to these gesticulations, the hurried chant +continued. I stood spellbound, knowing that my life depended by a hair, +knowing that I had stumbled on a celebration of the rites of Hoodoo. + +Presently, the door of the chapel opened, and there came forth a tall +negro, entirely nude, and bearing in his hand the sacrificial knife. He +was followed by an apparition still more strange and shocking: Madam +Mendizabal, naked also, and carrying in both hands and raised to the +level of her face, an open basket of wicker. It was filled with coiling +snakes; and these, as she stood there with the uplifted basket, shot +through the osier grating and curled about her arms. At the sight of +this, the fervour of the crowd seemed to swell suddenly higher; and the +chant rose in pitch and grew more irregular in time and accent. Then, at +a sign from the tall negro, where he stood, motionless and smiling, in +the moon and firelight, the singing died away, and there began the second +stage of this barbarous and bloody celebration. From different parts of +the ring, one after another, man or woman, ran forth into the midst; +ducked, with that same gesture of the thrown-up hand, before the +priestess and her snakes; and with various adjurations, uttered aloud the +blackest wishes of the heart. Death and disease were the favours usually +invoked: the death or the disease of enemies or rivals; some calling down +these plagues upon the nearest of their own blood, and one, to whom I +swear I had been never less than kind, invoking them upon myself. At +each petition, the tall negro, still smiling, picked up some bird or +animal from the heaving mass upon his left, slew it with the knife, and +tossed its body on the ground. At length, it seemed, it reached the turn +of the high-priestess. She set down the basket on the steps, moved into +the centre of the ring, grovelled in the dust before the reptiles, and +still grovelling lifted up her voice, between speech and singing, and +with so great, with so insane a fervour of excitement, as struck a sort +of horror through my blood. + +‘Power,’ she began, ‘whose name we do not utter; power that is neither +good nor evil, but below them both; stronger than good, greater than +evil—all my life long I have adored and served thee. Who has shed blood +upon thine altars? whose voice is broken with the singing of thy praises? +whose limbs are faint before their age with leaping in thy revels? Who +has slain the child of her body? I,’ she cried, ‘I, Metamnbogu! By my +own name, I name myself. I tear away the veil. I would be served or +perish. Hear me, slime of the fat swamp, blackness of the thunder, venom +of the serpent’s udder—hear or slay me! I would have two things, O +shapeless one, O horror of emptiness—two things, or die! The blood of my +white-faced husband; oh! give me that; he is the enemy of Hoodoo; give me +his blood! And yet another, O racer of the blind winds, O germinator in +the ruins of the dead, O root of life, root of corruption! I grow old, I +grow hideous; I am known, I am hunted for my life: let thy servant then +lay by this outworn body; let thy chief priestess turn again to the +blossom of her days, and be a girl once more, and the desired of all men, +even as in the past! And, O lord and master, as I here ask a marvel not +yet wrought since we were torn from the old land, have I not prepared the +sacrifice in which thy soul delighteth—the kid without the horns?’ + +Even as she uttered the words, there was a great rumour of joy through +all the circle of worshippers; it rose, and fell, and rose again; and +swelled at last into rapture, when the tall negro, who had stepped an +instant into the chapel, reappeared before the door, carrying in his arms +the body of the slave-girl, Cora. I know not if I saw what followed. +When next my mind awoke to a clear knowledge, Cora was laid upon the +steps before the serpents; the negro with the knife stood over her; the +knife rose; and at this I screamed out in my great horror, bidding them, +in God’s name, to pause. + +A stillness fell upon the mob of cannibals. A moment more, and they must +have thrown off this stupor, and I infallibly have perished. But Heaven +had designed to save me. The silence of these wretched men was not yet +broken, when there arose, in the empty night, a sound louder than the +roar of any European tempest, swifter to travel than the wings of any +Eastern wind. Blackness engulfed the world; blackness, stabbed across +from every side by intricate and blinding lightning. Almost in the same +second, at one world-swallowing stride, the heart of the tornado reached +the clearing. I heard an agonising crash, and the light of my reason was +overwhelmed. + +When I recovered consciousness, the day was come. I was unhurt; the +trees close about me had not lost a bough; and I might have thought at +first that the tornado was a feature in a dream. It was otherwise +indeed; for when I looked abroad, I perceived I had escaped destruction +by a hand’s-breadth. Right through the forest, which here covered hill +and dale, the storm had ploughed a lane of ruin. On either hand, the +trees waved uninjured in the air of the morning; but in the forthright +course of its advance, the hurricane had left no trophy standing. +Everything, in that line, tree, man, or animal, the desecrated chapel and +the votaries of Hoodoo, had been subverted and destroyed in that brief +spasm of anger of the powers of air. Everything, but a yard or two +beyond the line of its passage, humble flower, lofty tree, and the poor +vulnerable maid who now knelt to pay her gratitude to heaven, awoke +unharmed in the crystal purity and peace of the new day. + +To move by the path of the tornado was a thing impossible to man, so +wildly were the wrecks of the tall forest piled together by that fugitive +convulsion. I crossed it indeed; with such labour and patience, with so +many dangerous slips and falls, as left me, at the further side, bankrupt +alike of strength and courage. There I sat down awhile to recruit my +forces; and as I ate (how should I bless the kindliness of Heaven!) my +eye, flitting to and fro in the colonnade of the great trees, alighted on +a trunk that had been blazed. Yes, by the directing hand of Providence, +I had been conducted to the very track I was to follow. With what a +light heart I now set forth, and walking with how glad a step, traversed +the uplands of the isle! + +It was hard upon the hour of noon, when I came, all tattered and wayworn, +to the summit of a steep descent, and looked below me on the sea. About +all the coast, the surf, roused by the tornado of the night, beat with a +particular fury and made a fringe of snow. Close at my feet, I saw a +haven, set in precipitous and palm-crowned bluffs of rock. Just outside, +a ship was heaving on the surge, so trimly sparred, so glossily painted, +so elegant and point-device in every feature, that my heart was seized +with admiration. The English colours blew from her masthead; and from my +high station, I caught glimpses of her snowy planking, as she rolled on +the uneven deep, and saw the sun glitter on the brass of her deck +furniture. There, then, was my ship of refuge; and of all my +difficulties only one remained: to get on board of her. + +Half an hour later, I issued at last out of the woods on the margin of a +cove, into whose jaws the tossing and blue billows entered, and along +whose shores they broke with a surprising loudness. A wooded promontory +hid the yacht; and I had walked some distance round the beach, in what +appeared to be a virgin solitude, when my eye fell on a boat, drawn into +a natural harbour, where it rocked in safety, but deserted. I looked +about for those who should have manned her; and presently, in the +immediate entrance of the wood, spied the red embers of a fire, and, +stretched around in various attitudes, a party of slumbering mariners. +To these I drew near: most were black, a few white; but all were dressed +with the conspicuous decency of yachtsmen; and one, from his peaked cap +and glittering buttons, I rightly divined to be an officer. Him, then, I +touched upon the shoulder. He started up; the sharpness of his movement +woke the rest; and they all stared upon me in surprise. + +‘What do you want?’ inquired the officer. + +‘To go on board the yacht,’ I answered. + +I thought they all seemed disconcerted at this; and the officer, with +something of sharpness, asked me who I was. Now I had determined to +conceal my name until I met Sir George; and the first name that rose to +my lips was that of the Señora Mendizabal. At the word, there went a +shock about the little party of seamen; the negroes stared at me with +indescribable eagerness, the whites themselves with something of a scared +surprise; and instantly the spirit of mischief prompted me to add, ‘And +if the name is new to your ears, call me Metamnbogu.’ + +I had never seen an effect so wonderful. The negroes threw their hands +into the air, with the same gesture I remarked the night before about the +Hoodoo camp-fire; first one, and then another, ran forward and kneeled +down and kissed the skirts of my torn dress; and when the white officer +broke out swearing and calling to know if they were mad, the coloured +seamen took him by the shoulders, dragged him on one side till they were +out of hearing, and surrounded him with open mouths and extravagant +pantomime. The officer seemed to struggle hard; he laughed aloud, and I +saw him make gestures of dissent and protest; but in the end, whether +overcome by reason or simply weary of resistance, he gave in—approached +me civilly enough, but with something of a sneering manner underneath—and +touching his cap, ‘My lady,’ said he, ‘if that is what you are, the boat +is ready.’ + +My reception on board the _Nemorosa_ (for so the yacht was named) partook +of the same mingled nature. We were scarcely within hail of that great +and elegant fabric, where she lay rolling gunwale under and churning the +blue sea to snow, before the bulwarks were lined with the heads of a +great crowd of seamen, black, white, and yellow; and these and the few +who manned the boat began exchanging shouts in some _lingua franca_ +incomprehensible to me. All eyes were directed on the passenger; and +once more I saw the negroes toss up their hands to heaven, but now as if +with passionate wonder and delight. + +At the head of the gangway, I was received by another officer, a +gentlemanly man with blond and bushy whiskers; and to him I addressed my +demand to see Sir George. + +‘But this is not—’ he cried, and paused. + +‘I know it,’ returned the other officer, who had brought me from the +shore. ‘But what the devil can we do? Look at all the niggers!’ + +I followed his direction; and as my eye lighted upon each, the poor +ignorant Africans ducked, and bowed, and threw their hands into the air, +as though in the presence of a creature half divine. Apparently the +officer with the whiskers had instantly come round to the opinion of his +subaltern; for he now addressed me with every signal of respect. + +‘Sir George is at the island, my lady,’ said he: ‘for which, with your +ladyship’s permission, I shall immediately make all sail. The cabins are +prepared. Steward, take Lady Greville below.’ + +Under this new name, then, and so captivated by surprise that I could +neither think nor speak, I was ushered into a spacious and airy cabin, +hung about with weapons and surrounded by divans. The steward asked for +my commands; but I was by this time so wearied, bewildered, and +disturbed, that I could only wave him to leave me to myself, and sink +upon a pile of cushions. Presently, by the changed motion of the ship, I +knew her to be under way; my thoughts, so far from clarifying, grew the +more distracted and confused; dreams began to mingle and confound them; +and at length, by insensible transition, I sank into a dreamless slumber. + +When I awoke, the day and night had passed, and it was once more morning. +The world on which I reopened my eyes swam strangely up and down; the +jewels in the bag that lay beside me chinked together ceaselessly; the +clock and the barometer wagged to and fro like pendulums; and overhead, +seamen were singing out at their work, and coils of rope clattering and +thumping on the deck. Yet it was long before I had divined that I was at +sea; long before I had recalled, one after another, the tragical, +mysterious, and inexplicable events that had brought me where was. + +When I had done so, I thrust the jewels, which I was surprised to find +had been respected, into the bosom of my dress; and seeing a silver bell +hard by upon a table, rang it loudly. The steward instantly appeared; I +asked for food; and he proceeded to lay the table, regarding me the while +with a disquieting and pertinacious scrutiny. To relieve myself of my +embarrassment, I asked him, with as fair a show of ease as I could +muster, if it were usual for yachts to carry so numerous a crew? + +‘Madam,’ said he, ‘I know not who you are, nor what mad fancy has induced +you to usurp a name and an appalling destiny that are not yours. I warn +you from the soul. No sooner arrived at the island—’ + +At this moment he was interrupted by the whiskered officer, who had +entered unperceived behind him, and now laid a hand upon his shoulder. +The sudden pallor, the deadly and sick fear, that was imprinted on the +steward’s face, formed a startling addition to his words. + +‘Parker!’ said the officer, and pointed towards the door. + +‘Yes, Mr. Kentish,’ said the steward. ‘For God’s sake, Mr. Kentish!’ +And vanished, with a white face, from the cabin. + +Thereupon the officer bade me sit down, and began to help me, and join in +the meal. ‘I fill your ladyship’s glass,’ said he, and handed me a +tumbler of neat rum. + +‘Sir,’ cried I, ‘do you expect me to drink this?’ + +He laughed heartily. ‘Your ladyship is so much changed,’ said he, ‘that +I no longer expect any one thing more than any other.’ + +Immediately after, a white seaman entered the cabin, saluted both Mr. +Kentish and myself, and informed the officer there was a sail in sight, +which was bound to pass us very close, and that Mr. Harland was in doubt +about the colours. + +‘Being so near the island?’ asked Mr. Kentish. + +‘That was what Mr. Harland said, sir,’ returned the sailor, with a +scrape. + +‘Better not, I think,’ said Mr. Kentish. ‘My compliments to Mr. Harland; +and if she seem a lively boat, give her the stars and stripes; but if she +be dull, and we can easily outsail her, show John Dutchman. That is +always another word for incivility at sea; so we can disregard a hail or +a flag of distress, without attracting notice.’ + +As soon as the sailor had gone on deck, I turned to the officer in +wonder. ‘Mr. Kentish, if that be your name,’ said I, ‘are you ashamed of +your own colours?’ + +‘Your ladyship refers to the _Jolly Roger_?’ he inquired, with perfect +gravity; and immediately after, went into peals of laughter. ‘Pardon +me,’ said he; ‘but here for the first time I recognise your ladyship’s +impetuosity.’ Nor, try as I pleased, could I extract from him any +explanation of this mystery, but only oily and commonplace evasion. + +While we were thus occupied, the movement of the _Nemorosa_ gradually +became less violent; its speed at the same time diminished; and presently +after, with a sullen plunge, the anchor was discharged into the sea. +Kentish immediately rose, offered his arm, and conducted me on deck; +where I found we were lying in a roadstead among many low and rocky +islets, hovered about by an innumerable cloud of sea-fowl. Immediately +under our board, a somewhat larger isle was green with trees, set with a +few low buildings and approached by a pier of very crazy workmanship; and +a little inshore of us, a smaller vessel lay at anchor. + +I had scarce time to glance to the four quarters, ere a boat was lowered. +I was handed in, Kentish took place beside me, and we pulled briskly to +the pier. A crowd of villainous, armed loiterers, both black and white, +looked on upon our landing; and again the word passed about among the +negroes, and again I was received with prostrations and the same gesture +of the flung-up hand. By this, what with the appearance of these men, +and the lawless, sea-girt spot in which I found myself, my courage began +a little to decline, and clinging to the arm of Mr. Kentish, I begged him +to tell me what it meant? + +‘Nay, madam,’ he returned, ‘_you_ know.’ And leading me smartly through +the crowd, which continued to follow at a considerable distance, and at +which he still kept looking back, I thought, with apprehension, he +brought me to a low house that stood alone in an encumbered yard, opened +the door, and begged me to enter. + +‘But why?’ said I. ‘I demand to see Sir George.’ + +‘Madam,’ returned Mr. Kentish, looking suddenly as black as thunder, ‘to +drop all fence, I know neither who nor what you are; beyond the fact that +you are not the person whose name you have assumed. But be what you +please, spy, ghost, devil, or most ill-judging jester, if you do not +immediately enter that house, I will cut you to the earth.’ And even as +he spoke, he threw an uneasy glance behind him at the following crowd of +blacks. + +I did not wait to be twice threatened; I obeyed at once, and with a +palpitating heart; and the next moment, the door was locked from the +outside and the key withdrawn. The interior was long, low, and quite +unfurnished, but filled, almost from end to end, with sugar-cane, +tar-barrels, old tarry rope, and other incongruous and highly inflammable +material; and not only was the door locked, but the solitary window +barred with iron. + +I was by this time so exceedingly bewildered and afraid, that I would +have given years of my life to be once more the slave of Mr. Caulder. I +still stood, with my hands clasped, the image of despair, looking about +me on the lumber of the room or raising my eyes to heaven; when there +appeared outside the window bars, the face of a very black negro, who +signed to me imperiously to draw near. I did so, and he instantly, and +with every mark of fervour, addressed me a long speech in some unknown +and barbarous tongue. + +‘I declare,’ I cried, clasping my brow, ‘I do not understand one +syllable.’ + +‘Not?’ he said in Spanish. ‘Great, great, are the powers of Hoodoo! Her +very mind is changed! But, O chief priestess, why have you suffered +yourself to be shut into this cage? why did you not call your slaves at +once to your defence? Do you not see that all has been prepared to +murder you? at a spark, this flimsy house will go in flames; and alas! +who shall then be the chief priestess? and what shall be the profit of +the miracle?’ + +‘Heavens!’ cried I, ‘can I not see Sir George? I must, I must, come by +speech of him. Oh, bring me to Sir George!’ And, my terror fairly +mastering my courage, I fell upon my knees and began to pray to all the +saints. + +‘Lordy!’ cried the negro, ‘here they come!’ And his black head was +instantly withdrawn from the window. + +‘I never heard such nonsense in my life,’ exclaimed a voice. + +‘Why, so we all say, Sir George,’ replied the voice of Mr. Kentish. ‘But +put yourself in our place. The niggers were near two to one. And upon +my word, if you’ll excuse me, sir, considering the notion they have taken +in their heads, I regard it as precious fortunate for all of us that the +mistake occurred.’ + +‘This is no question of fortune, sir,’ returned Sir George. ‘It is a +question of my orders, and you may take my word for it, Kentish, either +Harland, or yourself, or Parker—or, by George, all three of you!—shall +swing for this affair. These are my sentiments. Give me the key and be +off.’ + +Immediately after, the key turned in the lock; and there appeared upon +the threshold a gentleman, between forty and fifty, with a very open +countenance, and of a stout and personable figure. + +‘My dear young lady,’ said he, ‘who the devil may you be?’ + +I told him all my story in one rush of words. He heard me, from the +first, with an amazement you can scarcely picture, but when I came to the +death of the Señora Mendizabal in the tornado, he fairly leaped into the +air. + +‘My dear child,’ he cried, clasping me in his arms, ‘excuse a man who +might be your father! This is the best news I ever had since I was born; +for that hag of a mulatto was no less a person than my wife.’ He sat +down upon a tar-barrel, as if unmanned by joy. ‘Dear me,’ said he, ‘I +declare this tempts me to believe in Providence. And what,’ he added, +‘can I do for you?’ + +‘Sir George,’ said I, ‘I am already rich: all that I ask is your +protection.’ + +‘Understand one thing,’ he said, with great energy. ‘I will never +marry.’ + +‘I had not ventured to propose it,’ I exclaimed, unable to restrain my +mirth; ‘I only seek to be conveyed to England, the natural home of the +escaped slave.’ + +‘Well,’ returned Sir George, ‘frankly I owe you something for this +exhilarating news; besides, your father was of use to me. Now, I have +made a small competence in business—a jewel mine, a sort of naval agency, +et cætera, and I am on the point of breaking up my company, and retiring +to my place in Devonshire to pass a plain old age, unmarried. One good +turn deserves another: if you swear to hold your tongue about this +island, these little bonfire arrangements, and the whole episode of my +unfortunate marriage, why, I’ll carry you home aboard the _Nemorosa_.’ I +eagerly accepted his conditions. + +‘One thing more,’ said he. ‘My late wife was some sort of a sorceress +among the blacks; and they are all persuaded she has come alive again in +your agreeable person. Now, you will have the goodness to keep up that +fancy, if you please; and to swear to them, on the authority of Hoodoo or +whatever his name may be, that I am from this moment quite a sacred +character.’ + +‘I swear it,’ said I, ‘by my father’s memory; and that is a vow that I +will never break.’ + +‘I have considerably better hold on you than any oath,’ returned Sir +George, with a chuckle; ‘for you are not only an escaped slave, but have, +by your own account, a considerable amount of stolen property.’ + +I was struck dumb; I saw it was too true; in a glance, I recognised that +these jewels were no longer mine; with similar quickness, I decided they +should be restored, ay, if it cost me the liberty that I had just +regained. Forgetful of all else, forgetful of Sir George, who sat and +watched me with a smile, I drew out Mr. Caulder’s pocket-book and turned +to the page on which the dying man had scrawled his testament. How shall +I describe the agony of happiness and remorse with which I read it! for +my victim had not only set me free, but bequeathed to me the bag of +jewels. + +My plain tale draws towards a close. Sir George and I, in my character +of his rejuvenated wife, displayed ourselves arm-in-arm among the +negroes, and were cheered and followed to the place of embarkation. +There, Sir George, turning about, made a speech to his old companions, in +which he thanked and bade them farewell with a very manly spirit; and +towards the end of which he fell on some expressions which I still +remember. ‘If any of you gentry lose your money,’ he said, ‘take care +you do not come to me; for in the first place, I shall do my best to have +you murdered; and if that fails, I hand you over to the law. Blackmail +won’t do for me. I’ll rather risk all upon a cast, than be pulled to +pieces by degrees. I’ll rather be found out and hang, than give a doit +to one man-jack of you.’ That same night we got under way and crossed to +the port of New Orleans, whence, as a sacred trust, I sent the +pocket-book to Mr. Caulder’s son. In a week’s time, the men were all +paid off; new hands were shipped; and the _Nemorosa_ weighed her anchor +for Old England. + +A more delightful voyage it were hard to fancy. Sir George, of course, +was not a conscientious man; but he had an unaffected gaiety of character +that naturally endeared him to the young; and it was interesting to hear +him lay out his projects for the future, when he should be returned to +Parliament, and place at the service of the nation his experience of +marine affairs. I asked him, if his notion of piracy upon a private +yacht were not original. But he told me, no. ‘A yacht, Miss Valdevia,’ +he observed, ‘is a chartered nuisance. Who smuggles? Who robs the +salmon rivers of the West of Scotland? Who cruelly beats the keepers if +they dare to intervene? The crews and the proprietors of yachts. All I +have done is to extend the line a trifle, and if you ask me for my +unbiassed opinion, I do not suppose that I am in the least alone.’ + +In short, we were the best of friends, and lived like father and +daughter; though I still withheld from him, of course, that respect which +is only due to moral excellence. + +We were still some days’ sail from England, when Sir George obtained, +from an outward-bound ship, a packet of newspapers; and from that fatal +hour my misfortunes recommenced. He sat, the same evening, in the cabin, +reading the news, and making savoury comments on the decline of England +and the poor condition of the navy, when I suddenly observed him to +change countenance. + +‘Hullo!’ said he, ‘this is bad; this is deuced bad, Miss Valdevia. You +would not listen to sound sense, you would send that pocket-book to that +man Caulder’s son.’ + +‘Sir George,’ said I, ‘it was my duty.’ + +‘You are prettily paid for it, at least,’ says he; ‘and much as I regret +it, I, for one, am done with you. This fellow Caulder demands your +extradition.’ + +‘But a slave,’ I returned, ‘is safe in England.’ + +‘Yes, by George!’ replied the baronet; ‘but it’s not a slave, Miss +Valdevia, it’s a thief that he demands. He has quietly destroyed the +will; and now accuses you of robbing your father’s bankrupt estate of +jewels to the value of a hundred thousand pounds.’ + +I was so much overcome by indignation at this hateful charge and concern +for my unhappy fate that the genial baronet made haste to put me more at +ease. + +‘Do not be cast down,’ said he. ‘Of course, I wash my hands of you +myself. A man in my position—baronet, old family, and all that—cannot +possibly be too particular about the company he keeps. But I am a deuced +good-humoured old boy, let me tell you, when not ruffled; and I will do +the best I can to put you right. I will lend you a trifle of ready +money, give you the address of an excellent lawyer in London, and find a +way to set you on shore unsuspected.’ + +He was in every particular as good as his word. Four days later, the +_Nemorosa_ sounded her way, under the cloak of a dark night, into a +certain haven of the coast of England; and a boat, rowing with muffled +oars, set me ashore upon the beach within a stone’s throw of a railway +station. Thither, guided by Sir George’s directions, I groped a devious +way; and finding a bench upon the platform, sat me down, wrapped in a +man’s fur great-coat, to await the coming of the day. It was still dark +when a light was struck behind one of the windows of the building; nor +had the east begun to kindle to the warmer colours of the dawn, before a +porter carrying a lantern, issued from the door and found himself face to +face with the unfortunate Teresa. He looked all about him; in the grey +twilight of the dawn, the haven was seen to lie deserted, and the yacht +had long since disappeared. + +‘Who are you?’ he cried. + +‘I am a traveller,’ said I. + +‘And where do you come from?’ he asked. + +‘I am going by the first train to London,’ I replied. + +In such manner, like a ghost or a new creation, was Teresa with her bag +of jewels landed on the shores of England; in this silent fashion, +without history or name, she took her place among the millions of a new +country. + +Since then, I have lived by the expedients of my lawyer, lying concealed +in quiet lodgings, dogged by the spies of Cuba, and not knowing at what +hour my liberty and honour may be lost. + + + + +_THE BROWN BOX_ +(_Concluded_) + + +The effect of this tale on the mind of Harry Desborough was instant and +convincing. The Fair Cuban had been already the loveliest, she now +became, in his eyes, the most romantic, the most innocent, and the most +unhappy of her sex. He was bereft of words to utter what he felt: what +pity, what admiration, what youthful envy of a career so vivid and +adventurous. ‘O madam!’ he began; and finding no language adequate to +that apostrophe, caught up her hand and wrung it in his own. ‘Count upon +me,’ he added, with bewildered fervour; and getting somehow or other out +of the apartment and from the circle of that radiant sorceress, he found +himself in the strange out-of-doors, beholding dull houses, wondering at +dull passers-by, a fallen angel. She had smiled upon him as he left, and +with how significant, how beautiful a smile! The memory lingered in his +heart; and when he found his way to a certain restaurant where music was +performed, flutes (as it were of Paradise) accompanied his meal. The +strings went to the melody of that parting smile; they paraphrased and +glossed it in the sense that he desired; and for the first time in his +plain and somewhat dreary life, he perceived himself to have a taste for +music. + +The next day, and the next, his meditations moved to that delectable air. +Now he saw her, and was favoured; now saw her not at all; now saw her and +was put by. The fall of her foot upon the stair entranced him; the books +that he sought out and read were books on Cuba, and spoke of her +indirectly; nay, and in the very landlady’s parlour, he found one that +told of precisely such a hurricane, and, down to the smallest detail, +confirmed (had confirmation been required) the truth of her recital. +Presently he began to fall into that prettiest mood of a young love, in +which the lover scorns himself for his presumption. Who was he, the dull +one, the commonplace unemployed, the man without adventure, the impure, +the untruthful, to aspire to such a creature made of fire and air, and +hallowed and adorned by such incomparable passages of life? What should +he do, to be more worthy? by what devotion, call down the notice of these +eyes to so terrene a being as himself? + +He betook himself, thereupon, to the rural privacy of the square, where, +being a lad of a kind heart, he had made himself a circle of +acquaintances among its shy frequenters, the half-domestic cats and the +visitors that hung before the windows of the Children’s Hospital. There +he walked, considering the depth of his demerit and the height of the +adored one’s super-excellence; now lighting upon earth to say a pleasant +word to the brother of some infant invalid; now, with a great heave of +breath, remembering the queen of women, and the sunshine of his life. + +What was he to do? Teresa, he had observed, was in the habit of leaving +the house towards afternoon: she might, perchance, run danger from some +Cuban emissary, when the presence of a friend might turn the balance in +her favour: how, then, if he should follow her? To offer his company +would seem like an intrusion; to dog her openly were a manifest +impertinence; he saw himself reduced to a more stealthy part, which, +though in some ways distasteful to his mind, he did not doubt that he +could practise with the skill of a detective. + +The next day he proceeded to put his plan in action. At the corner of +Tottenham Court Road, however, the Señorita suddenly turned back, and met +him face to face, with every mark of pleasure and surprise. + +‘Ah, Señor, I am sometimes fortunate!’ she cried. ‘I was looking for a +messenger;’ and with the sweetest of smiles, she despatched him to the +East End of London, to an address which he was unable to find. This was +a bitter pill to the knight-errant; but when he returned at night, worn +out with fruitless wandering and dismayed by his _fiasco_, the lady +received him with a friendly gaiety, protesting that all was for the +best, since she had changed her mind and long since repented of her +message. + +Next day he resumed his labours, glowing with pity and courage, and +determined to protect Teresa with his life. But a painful shock awaited +him. In the narrow and silent Hanway Street, she turned suddenly about +and addressed him with a manner and a light in her eyes that were new to +the young man’s experience. + +‘Do I understand that you follow me, Señor?’ she cried. ‘Are these the +manners of the English gentleman?’ + +Harry confounded himself in the most abject apologies and prayers to be +forgiven, vowed to offend no more, and was at length dismissed, +crestfallen and heavy of heart. The check was final; he gave up that +road to service; and began once more to hang about the square or on the +terrace, filled with remorse and love, admirable and idiotic, a fit +object for the scorn and envy of older men. In these idle hours, while +he was courting fortune for a sight of the beloved, it fell out naturally +that he should observe the manners and appearance of such as came about +the house. One person alone was the occasional visitor of the young +lady: a man of considerable stature, and distinguished only by the +doubtful ornament of a chin-beard in the style of an American deacon. +Something in his appearance grated upon Harry; this distaste grew upon +him in the course of days; and when at length he mustered courage to +inquire of the Fair Cuban who this was, he was yet more dismayed by her +reply. + +‘That gentleman,’ said she, a smile struggling to her face, ‘that +gentleman, I will not attempt to conceal from you, desires my hand in +marriage, and presses me with the most respectful ardour. Alas, what am +I to say? I, the forlorn Teresa, how shall I refuse or accept such +protestations?’ + +Harry feared to say more; a horrid pang of jealousy transfixed him; and +he had scarce the strength of mind to take his leave with decency. In +the solitude of his own chamber, he gave way to every manifestation of +despair. He passionately adored the Señorita; but it was not only the +thought of her possible union with another that distressed his soul, it +was the indefeasible conviction that her suitor was unworthy. To a duke, +a bishop, a victorious general, or any man adorned with obvious +qualities, he had resigned her with a sort of bitter joy; he saw himself +follow the wedding party from a great way off; he saw himself return to +the poor house, then robbed of its jewel; and while he could have wept +for his despair, he felt he could support it nobly. But this affair +looked otherwise. The man was patently no gentleman; he had a startled, +skulking, guilty bearing; his nails were black, his eyes evasive; his +love perhaps was a pretext; he was perhaps, under this deep disguise, a +Cuban emissary! + +Harry swore that he would satisfy these doubts; and the next evening, +about the hour of the usual visit, he posted himself at a spot whence his +eye commanded the three issues of the square. + +Presently after, a four-wheeler rumbled to the door, and the man with the +chin-beard alighted, paid off the cabman, and was seen by Harry to enter +the house with a brown box hoisted on his back. Half an hour later, he +came forth again without the box, and struck eastward at a rapid walk; +and Desborough, with the same skill and caution that he had displayed in +following Teresa, proceeded to dog the steps of her admirer. The man +began to loiter, studying with apparent interest the wares of the small +fruiterer or tobacconist; twice he returned hurriedly upon his former +course; and then, as though he had suddenly conquered a moment’s +hesitation, once more set forth with resolute and swift steps in the +direction of Lincoln’s Inn. At length, in a deserted by-street, he +turned; and coming up to Harry with a countenance which seemed to have +become older and whiter, inquired with some severity of speech if he had +not had the pleasure of seeing the gentleman before. + +‘You have, sir,’ said Harry, somewhat abashed, but with a good show of +stoutness; ‘and I will not deny that I was following you on purpose. +Doubtless,’ he added, for he supposed that all men’s minds must still be +running on Teresa, ‘you can divine my reason.’ + +At these words, the man with the chin-beard was seized with a palsied +tremor. He seemed, for some seconds, to seek the utterance which his +fear denied him; and then whipping sharply about, he took to his heels at +the most furious speed of running. + +Harry was at first so taken aback that he neglected to pursue; and by the +time he had recovered his wits, his best expedition was only rewarded by +a glimpse of the man with the chin-beard mounting into a hansom, which +immediately after disappeared into the moving crowds of Holborn. + +Puzzled and dismayed by this unusual behaviour, Harry returned to the +house in Queen Square, and ventured for the first time to knock at the +fair Cuban’s door. She bade him enter, and he found her kneeling with +rather a disconsolate air beside a brown wooden trunk. + +‘Señorita,’ he broke out, ‘I doubt whether that man’s character is what +he wishes you to believe. His manner, when he found, and indeed when I +admitted that I was following him, was not the manner of an honest man.’ + +‘Oh!’ she cried, throwing up her hands as in desperation, ‘Don Quixote, +Don Quixote, have you again been tilting against windmills?’ And then, +with a laugh, ‘Poor soul!’ she added, ‘how you must have terrified him! +For know that the Cuban authorities are here, and your poor Teresa may +soon be hunted down. Even yon humble clerk from my solicitor’s office +may find himself at any moment the quarry of armed spies.’ + +‘A humble clerk!’ cried Harry, ‘why, you told me yourself that he wished +to marry you!’ + +‘I thought you English like what you call a joke,’ replied the lady +calmly. ‘As a matter of fact, he is my lawyer’s clerk, and has been here +to-night charged with disastrous news. I am in sore straits, Señor +Harry. Will you help me?’ + +At this most welcome word, the young man’s heart exulted; and in the +hope, pride, and self-esteem that kindled with the very thought of +service, he forgot to dwell upon the lady’s jest. ‘Can you ask?’ he +cried. ‘What is there that I can do? Only tell me that.’ + +With signs of an emotion that was certainly unfeigned, the fair Cuban +laid her hand upon the box. ‘This box,’ she said, ‘contains my jewels, +papers, and clothes; all, in a word, that still connects me with Cuba and +my dreadful past. They must now be smuggled out of England; or, by the +opinion of my lawyer, I am lost beyond remedy. To-morrow, on board the +Irish packet, a sure hand awaits the box: the problem still unsolved, is +to find some one to carry it as far as Holyhead, to see it placed on +board the steamer, and instantly return to town. Will you be he? Will +you leave to-morrow by the first train, punctually obey orders, bear +still in mind that you are surrounded by Cuban spies; and without so much +as a look behind you, or a single movement to betray your interest, leave +the box where you have put it and come straight on shore? Will you do +this, and so save your friend?’ + +‘I do not clearly understand . . .’ began Harry. + +‘No more do I,’ replied the Cuban. ‘It is not necessary that we should, +so long as we obey the lawyer’s orders.’ + +‘Señorita,’ returned Harry gravely, ‘I think this, of course, a very +little thing to do for you, when I would willingly do all. But suffer me +to say one word. If London is unsafe for your treasures, it cannot long +be safe for you; and indeed, if I at all fathom the plan of your +solicitor, I fear I may find you already fled on my return. I am not +considered clever, and can only speak out plainly what is in my heart: +that I love you, and that I cannot bear to lose all knowledge of you. I +hope no more than to be your servant; I ask no more than just that I +shall hear of you. Oh, promise me so much!’ + +‘You shall,’ she said, after a pause. ‘I promise you, you shall.’ But +though she spoke with earnestness, the marks of great embarrassment and a +strong conflict of emotions appeared upon her face. + +‘I wish to tell you,’ resumed Desborough, ‘in case of accidents. . . .’ + +‘Accidents!’ she cried: ‘why do you say that?’ + +‘I do not know,’ said he, ‘you may be gone before my return, and we may +not meet again for long. And so I wished you to know this: That since +the day you gave me the cigarette, you have never once, not once, been +absent from my mind; and if it will in any way serve you, you may crumple +me up like that piece of paper, and throw me on the fire. I would love +to die for you.’ + +‘Go!’ she said. ‘Go now at once. My brain is in a whirl. I scarce know +what we are talking. Go; and good-night; and oh, may you come safe!’ + +Once back in his own room a fearful joy possessed the young man’s mind; +and as he recalled her face struck suddenly white and the broken +utterance of her last words, his heart at once exulted and misgave him. +Love had indeed looked upon him with a tragic mask; and yet what +mattered, since at least it was love—since at least she was commoved at +their division? He got to bed with these parti-coloured thoughts; passed +from one dream to another all night long, the white face of Teresa still +haunting him, wrung with unspoken thoughts; and in the grey of the dawn, +leaped suddenly out of bed, in a kind of horror. It was already time for +him to rise. He dressed, made his breakfast on cold food that had been +laid for him the night before; and went down to the room of his idol for +the box. The door was open; a strange disorder reigned within; the +furniture all pushed aside, and the centre of the room left bare of +impediment, as though for the pacing of a creature with a tortured mind. +There lay the box, however, and upon the lid a paper with these words: +‘Harry, I hope to be back before you go. Teresa.’ + +He sat down to wait, laying his watch before him on the table. She had +called him Harry: that should be enough, he thought, to fill the day with +sunshine; and yet somehow the sight of that disordered room still +poisoned his enjoyment. The door of the bed-chamber stood gaping open; +and though he turned aside his eyes as from a sacrilege, he could not but +observe the bed had not been slept in. He was still pondering what this +should mean, still trying to convince himself that all was well, when the +moving needle of his watch summoned him to set forth without delay. He +was before all things a man of his word; ran round to Southampton Row to +fetch a cab; and taking the box on the front seat, drove off towards the +terminus. + +The streets were scarcely awake; there was little to amuse the eye; and +the young man’s attention centred on the dumb companion of his drive. A +card was nailed upon one side, bearing the superscription: ‘Miss Doolan, +passenger to Dublin. Glass. With care.’ He thought with a sentimental +shock that the fair idol of his heart was perhaps driven to adopt the +name of Doolan; and as he still studied the card, he was aware of a +deadly, black depression settling steadily upon his spirits. It was in +vain for him to contend against the tide; in vain that he shook himself +or tried to whistle: the sense of some impending blow was not to be +averted. He looked out; in the long, empty streets, the cab pursued its +way without a trace of any follower. He gave ear; and over and above the +jolting of the wheels upon the road, he was conscious of a certain +regular and quiet sound that seemed to issue from the box. He put his +ear to the cover; at one moment, he seemed to perceive a delicate +ticking: the next, the sound was gone, nor could his closest hearkening +recapture it. He laughed at himself; but still the gloom continued; and +it was with more than the common relief of an arrival, that he leaped +from the cab before the station. + +Probably enough on purpose, Teresa had named an hour some thirty minutes +earlier than needful; and when Harry had given the box into the charge of +a porter, who sat it on a truck, he proceeded briskly to pace the +platform. Presently the bookstall opened; and the young man was looking +at the books when he was seized by the arm. He turned, and, though she +was closely veiled, at once recognised the Fair Cuban. + +‘Where is it?’ she asked; and the sound of her voice surprised him. + +‘It?’ he said. ‘What?’ + +‘The box. Have it put on a cab instantly. I am in fearful haste.’ + +He hurried to obey, marvelling at these changes, but not daring to +trouble her with questions; and when the cab had been brought round, and +the box mounted on the front, she passed a little way off upon the +pavement and beckoned him to follow. + +‘Now,’ said she, still in those mechanical and hushed tones that had at +first affected him, ‘you must go on to Holyhead alone; go on board the +steamer; and if you see a man in tartan trousers and a pink scarf, say to +him that all has been put off: if not,’ she added, with a sobbing sigh, +‘it does not matter. So, good-bye.’ + +‘Teresa,’ said Harry, ‘get into your cab, and I will go along with you. +You are in some distress, perhaps some danger; and till I know the whole, +not even you can make me leave you.’ + +‘You will not?’ she asked. ‘O Harry, it were better!’ + +‘I will not,’ said Harry stoutly. + +She looked at him for a moment through her veil; took his hand suddenly +and sharply, but more as if in fear than tenderness; and still holding +him, walked to the cab-door. + +‘Where are we to drive?’ asked Harry. + +‘Home, quickly,’ she answered; ‘double fare!’ And as soon as they had +both mounted to their places, the vehicle crazily trundled from the +station. + +Teresa leaned back in a corner. The whole way Harry could perceive her +tears to flow under her veil; but she vouchsafed no explanation. At the +door of the house in Queen Square, both alighted; and the cabman lowered +the box, which Harry, glad to display his strength, received upon his +shoulders. + +‘Let the man take it,’ she whispered. ‘Let the man take it.’ + +‘I will do no such thing,’ said Harry cheerfully; and having paid the +fare, he followed Teresa through the door which she had opened with her +key. The landlady and maid were gone upon their morning errands; the +house was empty and still; and as the rattling of the cab died away down +Gloucester Street, and Harry continued to ascend the stair with his +burthen, he heard close against his shoulders the same faint and muffled +ticking as before. The lady, still preceding him, opened the door of her +room, and helped him to lower the box tenderly in the corner by the +window. + +‘And now,’ said Harry, ‘what is wrong?’ + +‘You will not go away?’ she cried, with a sudden break in her voice and +beating her hands together in the very agony of impatience. ‘O Harry, +Harry, go away! Oh, go, and leave me to the fate that I deserve!’ + +‘The fate?’ repeated Harry. ‘What is this?’ + +‘No fate,’ she resumed. ‘I do not know what I am saying. But I wish to +be alone. You may come back this evening, Harry; come again when you +like; but leave me now, only leave me now!’ And then suddenly, ‘I have +an errand,’ she exclaimed; ‘you cannot refuse me that!’ + +‘No,’ replied Harry, ‘you have no errand. You are in grief or danger. +Lift your veil and tell me what it is.’ + +‘Then,’ she said, with a sudden composure, ‘you leave but one course open +to me.’ And raising the veil, she showed him a countenance from which +every trace of colour had fled, eyes marred with weeping, and a brow on +which resolve had conquered fear. ‘Harry,’ she began, ‘I am not what I +seem.’ + +‘You have told me that before,’ said Harry, ‘several times.’ + +‘O Harry, Harry,’ she cried, ‘how you shame me! But this is the God’s +truth. I am a dangerous and wicked girl. My name is Clara Luxmore. I +was never nearer Cuba than Penzance. From first to last I have cheated +and played with you. And what I am I dare not even name to you in words. +Indeed, until to-day, until the sleepless watches of last night, I never +grasped the depth and foulness of my guilt.’ + +The young man looked upon her aghast. Then a generous current poured +along his veins. ‘That is all one,’ he said. ‘If you be all you say, +you have the greater need of me.’ + +‘Is it possible,’ she exclaimed, ‘that I have schemed in vain? And will +nothing drive you from this house of death?’ + +‘Of death?’ he echoed. + +‘Death!’ she cried: ‘death! In that box that you have dragged about +London and carried on your defenceless shoulders, sleep, at the trigger’s +mercy, the destroying energies of dynamite.’ + +‘My God!’ cried Harry. + +‘Ah!’ she continued wildly, ‘will you flee now? At any moment you may +hear the click that sounds the ruin of this building. I was sure M’Guire +was wrong; this morning, before day, I flew to Zero; he confirmed my +fears; I beheld you, my beloved Harry, fall a victim to my own +contrivances. I knew then I loved you—Harry, will you go now? Will you +not spare me this unwilling crime?’ + +Harry remained speechless, his eyes fixed upon the box: at last he turned +to her. + +‘Is it,’ he asked hoarsely, ‘an infernal machine?’ + +Her lips formed the word ‘Yes,’ which her voice refused to utter. + +With fearful curiosity, he drew near and bent above the box; in that +still chamber, the ticking was distinctly audible; and at the measured +sound, the blood flowed back upon his heart. + +‘For whom?’ he asked. + +‘What matters it,’ she cried, seizing him by the arm. ‘If you may still +be saved, what matter questions?’ + +‘God in heaven!’ cried Harry. ‘And the Children’s Hospital! At whatever +cost, this damned contrivance must be stopped!’ + +‘It cannot,’ she gasped. ‘The power of man cannot avert the blow. But +you, Harry—you, my beloved—you may still—’ + +And then from the box that lay so quietly in the corner, a sudden catch +was audible, like the catch of a clock before it strikes the hour. For +one second the two stared at each other with lifted brows and stony eyes. +Then Harry, throwing one arm over his face, with the other clutched the +girl to his breast and staggered against the wall. + +A dull and startling thud resounded through the room; their eyes blinked +against the coming horror; and still clinging together like drowning +people, they fell to the floor. Then followed a prolonged and strident +hissing as from the indignant pit; an offensive stench seized them by the +throat; the room was filled with dense and choking fumes. + +Presently these began a little to disperse: and when at length they drew +themselves, all limp and shaken, to a sitting posture, the first object +that greeted their vision was the box reposing uninjured in its corner, +but still leaking little wreaths of vapour round the lid. + +‘Oh, poor Zero!’ cried the girl, with a strange sobbing laugh. ‘Alas, +poor Zero! This will break his heart!’ + + + + +_THE SUPERFLUOUS MANSION_ +(_Concluded_) + + +Somerset ran straight upstairs; the door of the drawing-room, contrary to +all custom, was unlocked; and bursting in, the young man found Zero +seated on a sofa in an attitude of singular dejection. Close beside him +stood an untasted grog, the mark of strong preoccupation. The room +besides was in confusion: boxes had been tumbled to and fro; the floor +was strewn with keys and other implements; and in the midst of this +disorder lay a lady’s glove. + +‘I have come,’ cried Somerset, ‘to make an end of this. Either you will +instantly abandon all your schemes, or (cost what it may) I will denounce +you to the police.’ + +‘Ah!’ replied Zero, slowly shaking his head. ‘You are too late, dear +fellow! I am already at the end of all my hopes, and fallen to be a +laughing-stock and mockery. My reading,’ he added, with a gentle +despondency of manner, ‘has not been much among romances; yet I recall +from one a phrase that depicts my present state with critical exactitude; +and you behold me sitting here “like a burst drum.”’ + +‘What has befallen you?’ cried Somerset. + +‘My last batch,’ returned the plotter wearily, ‘like all the others, is a +hollow mockery and a fraud. In vain do I combine the elements; in vain +adjust the springs; and I have now arrived at such a pitch of +disconsideration that (except yourself, dear fellow) I do not know a soul +that I can face. My subordinates themselves have turned upon me. What +language have I heard to-day, what illiberality of sentiment, what +pungency of expression! She came once; I could have pardoned that, for +she was moved; but she returned, returned to announce to me this crushing +blow; and, Somerset, she was very inhumane. Yes, dear fellow, I have +drunk a bitter cup; the speech of females is remarkable for . . . well, +well! Denounce me, if you will; you but denounce the dead. I am +extinct. It is strange how, at this supreme crisis of my life, I should +be haunted by quotations from works of an inexact and even fanciful +description; but here,’ he added, ‘is another: “Othello’s occupation’s +gone.” Yes, dear Somerset, it is gone; I am no more a dynamiter; and +how, I ask you, after having tasted of these joys, am I to condescend to +a less glorious life?’ + +‘I cannot describe how you relieve me,’ returned Somerset, sitting down +on one of several boxes that had been drawn out into the middle of the +floor. ‘I had conceived a sort of maudlin toleration for your character; +I have a great distaste, besides, for anything in the nature of a duty; +and upon both grounds, your news delights me. But I seem to perceive,’ +he added, ‘a certain sound of ticking in this box.’ + +‘Yes,’ replied Zero, with the same slow weariness of manner, ‘I have set +several of them going.’ + +‘My God!’ cried Somerset, bounding to his feet. + +‘Machines?’ + +‘Machines!’ returned the plotter bitterly. ‘Machines indeed! I blush to +be their author. Alas!’ he said, burying his face in his hands, ‘that I +should live to say it!’ + +‘Madman!’ cried Somerset, shaking him by the arm. ‘What am I to +understand? Have you, indeed, set these diabolical contrivances in +motion? and do we stay here to be blown up?’ + +‘“Hoist with his own petard?”’ returned the plotter musingly. ‘One more +quotation: strange! But indeed my brain is struck with numbness. Yes, +dear boy, I have, as you say, put my contrivance in motion. The one on +which you are sitting, I have timed for half an hour. Yon other—’ + +‘Half an hour!—’ echoed Somerset, dancing with trepidation. ‘Merciful +Heavens, in half an hour?’ + +‘Dear fellow, why so much excitement?’ inquired Zero. ‘My dynamite is +not more dangerous than toffy; had I an only child, I would give it him +to play with. You see this brick?’ he continued, lifting a cake of the +infernal compound from the laboratory-table. ‘At a touch it should +explode, and that with such unconquerable energy as should bestrew the +square with ruins. Well now, behold! I dash it on the floor.’ + +Somerset sprang forward, and with the strength of the very ecstasy of +terror, wrested the brick from his possession. ‘Heavens!’ he cried, +wiping his brow; and then with more care than ever mother handled her +first-born withal, gingerly transported the explosive to the far end of +the apartment: the plotter, his arms once more fallen to his side, +dispiritedly watching him. + +‘It was entirely harmless,’ he sighed. ‘They describe it as burning like +tobacco.’ + +‘In the name of fortune,’ cried Somerset, ‘what have I done to you, or +what have you done to yourself, that you should persist in this insane +behaviour? If not for your own sake, then for mine, let us depart from +this doomed house, where I profess I have not the heart to leave you; and +then, if you will take my advice, and if your determination be sincere, +you will instantly quit this city, where no further occupation can detain +you.’ + +‘Such, dear fellow, was my own design,’ replied the plotter. ‘I have, as +you observe, no further business here; and once I have packed a little +bag, I shall ask you to share a frugal meal, to go with me as far as to +the station, and see the last of a broken-hearted man. And yet,’ he +added, looking on the boxes with a lingering regret, ‘I should have liked +to make quite certain. I cannot but suspect my underlings of some +mismanagement; it may be fond, but yet I cherish that idea: it may be the +weakness of a man of science, but yet,’ he cried, rising into some +energy, ‘I will never, I cannot if I try, believe that my poor dynamite +has had fair usage!’ + +‘Five minutes!’ said Somerset, glancing with horror at the timepiece. +‘If you do not instantly buckle to your bag, I leave you.’ + +‘A few necessaries,’ returned Zero, ‘only a few necessaries, dear +Somerset, and you behold me ready.’ + +He passed into the bedroom, and after an interval which seemed to draw +out into eternity for his unfortunate companion, he returned, bearing in +his hand an open Gladstone bag. His movements were still horribly +deliberate, and his eyes lingered gloatingly on his dear boxes, as he +moved to and fro about the drawing-room, gathering a few small trifles. +Last of all, he lifted one of the squares of dynamite. + +‘Put that down!’ cried Somerset. ‘If what you say be true, you have no +call to load yourself with that ungodly contraband.’ + +‘Merely a curiosity, dear boy,’ he said persuasively, and slipped the +brick into his bag; ‘merely a memento of the past—ah, happy past, bright +past! You will not take a touch of spirits? no? I find you very +abstemious. Well,’ he added, ‘if you have really no curiosity to await +the event—’ + +‘I!’ cried Somerset. ‘My blood boils to get away.’ + +‘Well, then,’ said Zero, ‘I am ready; I would I could say, willing; but +thus to leave the scene of my sublime endeavours—’ + +Without further parley, Somerset seized him by the arm, and dragged him +downstairs; the hall-door shut with a clang on the deserted mansion; and +still towing his laggardly companion, the young man sped across the +square in the Oxford Street direction. They had not yet passed the +corner of the garden, when they were arrested by a dull thud of an +extraordinary amplitude of sound, accompanied and followed by a +shattering _fracas_. Somerset turned in time to see the mansion rend in +twain, vomit forth flames and smoke, and instantly collapse into its +cellars. At the same moment, he was thrown violently to the ground. His +first glance was towards Zero. The plotter had but reeled against the +garden rail; he stood there, the Gladstone bag clasped tight upon his +heart, his whole face radiant with relief and gratitude; and the young +man heard him murmur to himself: ‘_Nunc dimittis_, _nunc dimittis_!’ + +The consternation of the populace was indescribable; the whole of Golden +Square was alive with men, women, and children, running wildly to and +fro, and like rabbits in a warren, dashing in and out of the house doors. +And under favour of this confusion, Somerset dragged away the lingering +plotter. + +‘It was grand,’ he continued to murmur: ‘it was indescribably grand. Ah, +green Erin, green Erin, what a day of glory! and oh, my calumniated +dynamite, how triumphantly hast thou prevailed!’ + +Suddenly a shade crossed his face; and pausing in the middle of the +footway, he consulted the dial of his watch. + +‘Good God!’ he cried, ‘how mortifying! seven minutes too early! The +dynamite surpassed my hopes; but the clockwork, fickle clockwork, has +once more betrayed me. Alas, can there be no success unmixed with +failure? and must even this red-letter day be chequered by a shadow?’ + +‘Incomparable ass!’ said Somerset, ‘what have you done? Blown up the +house of an unoffending old lady, and the whole earthly property of the +only person who is fool enough to befriend you!’ + +‘You do not understand these matters,’ replied Zero, with an air of great +dignity. ‘This will shake England to the heart. Gladstone, the +truculent old man, will quail before the pointing finger of revenge. And +now that my dynamite is proved effective—’ + +‘Heavens, you remind me!’ ejaculated Somerset. ‘That brick in your bag +must be instantly disposed of. But how? If we could throw it in the +river—’ + +‘A torpedo,’ cried Zero, brightening, ‘a torpedo in the Thames! Superb, +dear fellow! I recognise in you the marks of an accomplished anarch.’ + +‘True!’ returned Somerset. ‘It cannot so be done; and there is no help +but you must carry it away with you. Come on, then, and let me at once +consign you to a train.’ + +‘Nay, nay, dear boy,’ protested Zero. ‘There is now no call for me to +leave. My character is now reinstated; my fame brightens; this is the +best thing I have done yet; and I see from here the ovations that await +the author of the Golden Square Atrocity.’ + +‘My young friend,’ returned the other, ‘I give you your choice. I will +either see you safe on board a train or safe in gaol.’ + +‘Somerset, this is unlike you!’ said the chymist. ‘You surprise me, +Somerset.’ + +‘I shall considerably more surprise you at the next police office,’ +returned Somerset, with something bordering on rage. ‘For on one point +my mind is settled: either I see you packed off to America, brick and +all, or else you dine in prison.’ + +‘You have perhaps neglected one point,’ returned the unoffended Zero: +‘for, speaking as a philosopher, I fail to see what means you can employ +to force me. The will, my dear fellow—’ + +‘Now, see here,’ interrupted Somerset. ‘You are ignorant of anything but +science, which I can never regard as being truly knowledge; I, sir, have +studied life; and allow me to inform you that I have but to raise my hand +and voice—here in this street—and the mob—’ + +‘Good God in heaven, Somerset,’ cried Zero, turning deadly white and +stopping in his walk, ‘great God in heaven, what words are these? Oh, +not in jest, not even in jest, should they be used! The brutal mob, the +savage passions . . . Somerset, for God’s sake, a public-house!’ + +Somerset considered him with freshly awakened curiosity. ‘This is very +interesting,’ said he. ‘You recoil from such a death?’ + +‘Who would not?’ asked the plotter. + +‘And to be blown up by dynamite,’ inquired the young man, ‘doubtless +strikes you as a form of euthanasia?’ + +‘Pardon me,’ returned Zero: ‘I own, and since I have braved it daily in +my professional career, I own it even with pride: it is a death unusually +distasteful to the mind of man.’ + +‘One more question,’ said Somerset: ‘you object to Lynch Law? why?’ + +‘It is assassination,’ said the plotter calmly, but with eyebrows a +little lifted, as in wonder at the question. + +‘Shake hands with me,’ cried Somerset. ‘Thank God, I have now no +ill-feeling left; and though you cannot conceive how I burn to see you on +the gallows, I can quite contentedly assist at your departure.’ + +‘I do not very clearly take your meaning,’ said Zero, ‘but I am sure you +mean kindly. As to my departure, there is another point to be +considered. I have neglected to supply myself with funds; my little all +has perished in what history will love to relate under the name of the +Golden Square Atrocity; and without what is coarsely if vigorously called +stamps, you must be well aware it is impossible for me to pass the +ocean.’ + +‘For me,’ said Somerset, ‘you have now ceased to be a man. You have no +more claim upon me than a door scraper; but the touching confusion of +your mind disarms me from extremities. Until to-day, I always thought +stupidity was funny; I now know otherwise; and when I look upon your +idiot face, laughter rises within me like a deadly sickness, and the +tears spring up into my eyes as bitter as blood. What should this +portend? I begin to doubt; I am losing faith in scepticism. Is it +possible,’ he cried, in a kind of horror of himself—‘is it conceivable +that I believe in right and wrong? Already I have found myself, with +incredulous surprise, to be the victim of a prejudice of personal honour. +And must this change proceed? Have you robbed me of my youth? Must I +fall, at my time of life, into the Common Banker? But why should I +address that head of wood? Let this suffice. I dare not let you stay +among women and children; I lack the courage to denounce you, if by any +means I may avoid it; you have no money: well then, take mine, and go; +and if ever I behold your face after to-day, that day will be your last.’ + +‘Under the circumstances,’ replied Zero, ‘I scarce see my way to refuse +your offer. Your expressions may pain, they cannot surprise me; I am +aware our point of view requires a little training, a little moral +hygiene, if I may so express it; and one of the points that has always +charmed me in your character is this delightful frankness. As for the +small advance, it shall be remitted you from Philadelphia.’ + +‘It shall not,’ said Somerset. + +‘Dear fellow, you do not understand,’ returned the plotter. ‘I shall now +be received with fresh confidence by my superiors; and my experiments +will be no longer hampered by pitiful conditions of the purse.’ + +‘What I am now about, sir, is a crime,’ replied Somerset; ‘and were you +to roll in wealth like Vanderbilt, I should scorn to be reimbursed of +money I had so scandalously misapplied. Take it, and keep it. By +George, sir, three days of you have transformed me to an ancient Roman.’ + +With these words, Somerset hailed a passing hansom; and the pair were +driven rapidly to the railway terminus. There, an oath having been +exacted, the money changed hands. + +‘And now,’ said Somerset, ‘I have bought back my honour with every penny +I possess. And I thank God, though there is nothing before me but +starvation, I am free from all entanglement with Mr. Zero Pumpernickel +Jones.’ + +‘To starve?’ cried Zero. ‘Dear fellow, I cannot endure the thought.’ + +‘Take your ticket!’ returned Somerset. + +‘I think you display temper,’ said Zero. + +‘Take your ticket,’ reiterated the young man. + +‘Well,’ said the plotter, as he returned, ticket in hand, ‘your attitude +is so strange and painful, that I scarce know if I should ask you to +shake hands.’ + +‘As a man, no,’ replied Somerset; ‘but I have no objection to shake hands +with you, as I might with a pump-well that ran poison or bell-fire.’ + +‘This is a very cold parting,’ sighed the dynamiter; and still followed +by Somerset, he began to descend the platform. This was now bustling +with passengers; the train for Liverpool was just about to start, another +had but recently arrived; and the double tide made movement difficult. +As the pair reached the neighbourhood of the bookstall, however, they +came into an open space; and here the attention of the plotter was +attracted by a _Standard_ broadside bearing the words: ‘Second Edition: +Explosion in Golden Square.’ His eye lighted; groping in his pocket for +the necessary coin, he sprang forward—his bag knocked sharply on the +corner of the stall—and instantly, with a formidable report, the dynamite +exploded. When the smoke cleared away the stall was seen much shattered, +and the stall keeper running forth in terror from the ruins; but of the +Irish patriot or the Gladstone bag no adequate remains were to be found. + +In the first scramble of the alarm, Somerset made good his escape, and +came out upon the Euston Road, his head spinning, his body sick with +hunger, and his pockets destitute of coin. Yet as he continued to walk +the pavements, he wondered to find in his heart a sort of peaceful +exultation, a great content, a sense, as it were, of divine presence and +the kindliness of fate; and he was able to tell himself that even if the +worst befell, he could now starve with a certain comfort since Zero was +expunged. + +Late in the afternoon, he found himself at the door of Mr. Godall’s shop; +and being quite unmanned by his long fast, and scarce considering what he +did, he opened the glass door and entered. + +‘Ha!’ said Mr. Godall, ‘Mr. Somerset! Well, have you met with an +adventure? Have you the promised story? Sit down, if you please; suffer +me to choose you a cigar of my own special brand; and reward me with a +narrative in your best style.’ + +‘I must not take a cigar,’ said Somerset. + +‘Indeed!’ said Mr. Godall. ‘But now I come to look at you more closely, +I perceive that you are changed. My poor boy, I hope there is nothing +wrong?’ + +Somerset burst into tears. + + + + +_EPILOGUE OF THE CIGAR DIVAN_ + + +On a certain day of lashing rain in the December of last year, and +between the hours of nine and ten in the morning, Mr. Edward Challoner +pioneered himself under an umbrella to the door of the Cigar Divan in +Rupert Street. It was a place he had visited but once before: the memory +of what had followed on that visit and the fear of Somerset having +prevented his return. Even now, he looked in before he entered; but the +shop was free of customers. + +The young man behind the counter was so intently writing in a penny +version-book, that he paid no heed to Challoner’s arrival. On a second +glance, it seemed to the latter that he recognised him. + +‘By Jove,’ he thought, ‘unquestionably Somerset!’ + +And though this was the very man he had been so sedulously careful to +avoid, his unexplained position at the receipt of custom changed distaste +to curiosity. + +‘“Or opulent rotunda strike the sky,”’ said the shopman to himself, in +the tone of one considering a verse. ‘I suppose it would be too much to +say “orotunda,” and yet how noble it were! “Or opulent orotunda strike +the sky.” But that is the bitterness of arts; you see a good effect, and +some nonsense about sense continually intervenes.’ + +‘Somerset, my dear fellow,’ said Challoner, ‘is this a masquerade?’ + +‘What? Challoner!’ cried the shopman. ‘I am delighted to see you. One +moment, till I finish the octave of my sonnet: only the octave.’ And +with a friendly waggle of the hand, he once more buried himself in the +commerce of the Muses. ‘I say,’ he said presently, looking up, ‘you seem +in wonderful preservation: how about the hundred pounds?’ + +‘I have made a small inheritance from a great aunt in Wales,’ replied +Challoner modestly. + +‘Ah,’ said Somerset, ‘I very much doubt the legitimacy of inheritance. +The State, in my view, should collar it. I am now going through a stage +of socialism and poetry,’ he added apologetically, as one who spoke of a +course of medicinal waters. + +‘And are you really the person of the—establishment?’ inquired Challoner, +deftly evading the word ‘shop.’ + +‘A vendor, sir, a vendor,’ returned the other, pocketing his poesy. ‘I +help old Happy and Glorious. Can I offer you a weed?’ + +‘Well, I scarcely like . . . ’ began Challoner. + +‘Nonsense, my dear fellow,’ cried the shopman. ‘We are very proud of the +business; and the old man, let me inform you, besides being the most +egregious of created beings from the point of view of ethics, is +literally sprung from the loins of kings. “_De Godall je suis le +fervent_.” There is only one Godall.—By the way,’ he added, as Challoner +lit his cigar, ‘how did you get on with the detective trade?’ + +‘I did not try,’ said Challoner curtly. + +‘Ah, well, I did,’ returned Somerset, ‘and made the most incomparable +mess of it: lost all my money and fairly covered myself with odium and +ridicule. There is more in that business, Challoner, than meets the eye; +there is more, in fact, in all businesses. You must believe in them, or +get up the belief that you believe. Hence,’ he added, ‘the recognised +inferiority of the plumber, for no one could believe in plumbing.’ + +‘_A propos_,’ asked Challoner, ‘do you still paint?’ + +‘Not now,’ replied Paul; ‘but I think of taking up the violin.’ + +Challoner’s eye, which had been somewhat restless since the trade of the +detective had been named, now rested for a moment on the columns of the +morning paper, where it lay spread upon the counter. + +‘By Jove,’ he cried, ‘that’s odd!’ + +‘What is odd?’ asked Paul. + +‘Oh, nothing,’ returned the other: ‘only I once met a person called +M’Guire.’ + +‘So did I!’ cried Somerset. ‘Is there anything about him?’ + +Challoner read as follows: ‘_Mysterious death in Stepney_. An inquest +was held yesterday on the body of Patrick M’Guire, described as a +carpenter. Doctor Dovering stated that he had for some time treated the +deceased as a dispensary patient, for sleeplessness, loss of appetite, +and nervous depression. There was no cause of death to be found. He +would say the deceased had sunk. Deceased was not a temperate man, which +doubtless accelerated death. Deceased complained of dumb ague, but +witness had never been able to detect any positive disease. He did not +know that he had any family. He regarded him as a person of unsound +intellect, who believed himself a member and the victim of some secret +society. If he were to hazard an opinion, he would say deceased had died +of fear.’ + +‘And the doctor would be right,’ cried Somerset; ‘and my dear Challoner, +I am so relieved to hear of his demise, that I will—Well, after all,’ he +added, ‘poor devil, he was well served.’ + +The door at this moment opened, and Desborough appeared upon the +threshold. He was wrapped in a long waterproof, imperfectly supplied +with buttons; his boots were full of water, his hat greasy with service; +and yet he wore the air of one exceeding well content with life. He was +hailed by the two others with exclamations of surprise and welcome. + +‘And did you try the detective business?’ inquired Paul. + +‘No,’ returned Harry. ‘Oh yes, by the way, I did though: twice, and got +caught out both times. But I thought I should find my—my wife here?’ he +added, with a kind of proud confusion. + +‘What? are you married?’ cried Somerset. + +‘Oh yes,’ said Harry, ‘quite a long time: a month at least.’ + +‘Money?’ asked Challoner. + +‘That’s the worst of it,’ Desborough admitted. ‘We are deadly hard up. +But the Pri--- Mr. Godall is going to do something for us. That is what +brings us here.’ + +‘Who was Mrs. Desborough?’ said Challoner, in the tone of a man of +society. + +‘She was a Miss Luxmore,’ returned Harry. ‘You fellows will be sure to +like her, for she is much cleverer than I. She tells wonderful stories, +too; better than a book.’ + +And just then the door opened, and Mrs. Desborough entered. Somerset +cried out aloud to recognise the young lady of the Superfluous Mansion, +and Challoner fell back a step and dropped his cigar as he beheld the +sorceress of Chelsea. + +‘What!’ cried Harry, ‘do you both know my wife?’ + +‘I believe I have seen her,’ said Somerset, a little wildly. + +‘I think I have met the gentleman,’ said Mrs. Desborough sweetly; ‘but I +cannot imagine where it was.’ + +‘Oh no,’ cried Somerset fervently: ‘I have no notion—I cannot +conceive—where it could have been. Indeed,’ he continued, growing in +emphasis, ‘I think it highly probable that it’s a mistake.’ + +‘And you, Challoner?’ asked Harry, ‘you seemed to recognise her too.’ + +‘These are both friends of yours, Harry?’ said the lady. ‘Delighted, I +am sure. I do not remember to have met Mr. Challoner.’ + +Challoner was very red in the face, perhaps from having groped after his +cigar. ‘I do not remember to have had the pleasure,’ he responded +huskily. + +‘Well, and Mr. Godall?’ asked Mrs. Desborough. + +‘Are you the lady that has an appointment with old—’ began Somerset, and +paused blushing. ‘Because if so,’ he resumed, ‘I was to announce you at +once.’ + +And the shopman raised a curtain, opened a door, and passed into a small +pavilion which had been added to the back of the house. On the roof, the +rain resounded musically. The walls were lined with maps and prints and +a few works of reference. Upon a table was a large-scale map of Egypt +and the Soudan, and another of Tonkin, on which, by the aid of coloured +pins, the progress of the different wars was being followed day by day. +A light, refreshing odour of the most delicate tobacco hung upon the air; +and a fire, not of foul coal, but of clear-flaming resinous billets, +chattered upon silver dogs. In this elegant and plain apartment, Mr. +Godall sat in a morning muse, placidly gazing at the fire and hearkening +to the rain upon the roof. + +‘Ha, my dear Mr. Somerset,’ said he, ‘and have you since last night +adopted any fresh political principle?’ + +‘The lady, sir,’ said Somerset, with another blush. + +‘You have seen her, I believe?’ returned Mr. Godall; and on Somerset’s +replying in the affirmative, ‘You will excuse me, my dear sir,’ he +resumed, ‘if I offer you a hint. I think it not improbable this lady may +desire entirely to forget the past. From one gentleman to another, no +more words are necessary.’ + +A moment after, he had received Mrs. Desborough with that grave and +touching urbanity that so well became him. + +‘I am pleased, madam, to welcome you to my poor house,’ he said; ‘and +shall be still more so, if what were else a barren courtesy and a +pleasure personal to myself, shall prove to be of serious benefit to you +and Mr. Desborough.’ + +‘Your Highness,’ replied Clara, ‘I must begin with thanks; it is like +what I have heard of you, that you should thus take up the case of the +unfortunate; and as for my Harry, he is worthy of all that you can do.’ +She paused. + +‘But for yourself?’ suggested Mr. Godall—‘it was thus you were about to +continue, I believe.’ + +‘You take the words out of my mouth,’ she said. ‘For myself, it is +different.’ + +‘I am not here to be a judge of men,’ replied the Prince; ‘still less of +women. I am now a private person like yourself and many million others; +but I am one who still fights upon the side of quiet. Now, madam, you +know better than I, and God better than you, what you have done to +mankind in the past; I pause not to inquire; it is with the future I +concern myself, it is for the future I demand security. I would not +willingly put arms into the hands of a disloyal combatant; and I dare not +restore to wealth one of the levyers of a private and a barbarous war. I +speak with some severity, and yet I pick my terms. I tell myself +continually that you are a woman; and a voice continually reminds me of +the children whose lives and limbs you have endangered. A woman,’ he +repeated solemnly—‘and children. Possibly, madam, when you are yourself +a mother, you will feel the bite of that antithesis: possibly when you +kneel at night beside a cradle, a fear will fall upon you, heavier than +any shame; and when your child lies in the pain and danger of disease, +you shall hesitate to kneel before your Maker.’ + +‘You look at the fault,’ she said, ‘and not at the excuse. Has your own +heart never leaped within you at some story of oppression? But, alas, +no! for you were born upon a throne.’ + +‘I was born of woman,’ said the Prince; ‘I came forth from my mother’s +agony, helpless as a wren, like other nurselings. This, which you +forgot, I have still faithfully remembered. Is it not one of your +English poets, that looked abroad upon the earth and saw vast +circumvallations, innumerable troops manoeuvring, warships at sea and a +great dust of battles on shore; and casting anxiously about for what +should be the cause of so many and painful preparations, spied at last, +in the centre of all, a mother and her babe? These, madam, are my +politics; and the verses, which are by Mr. Coventry Patmore, I have +caused to be translated into the Bohemian tongue. Yes, these are my +politics: to change what we can, to better what we can; but still to bear +in mind that man is but a devil weakly fettered by some generous beliefs +and impositions, and for no word however nobly sounding, and no cause +however just and pious, to relax the stricture of these bonds.’ + +There was a silence of a moment. + +‘I fear, madam,’ resumed the Prince, ‘that I but weary you. My views are +formal like myself; and like myself, they also begin to grow old. But I +must still trouble you for some reply.’ + +‘I can say but one thing,’ said Mrs. Desborough: ‘I love my husband.’ + +‘It is a good answer,’ returned the Prince; ‘and you name a good +influence, but one that need not be conterminous with life.’ + +‘I will not play at pride with such a man as you,’ she answered. ‘What +do you ask of me? not protestations, I am sure. What shall I say? I +have done much that I cannot defend and that I would not do again. Can I +say more? Yes: I can say this: I never abused myself with the +muddle-headed fairy tales of politics. I was at least prepared to meet +reprisals. While I was levying war myself—or levying murder, if you +choose the plainer term—I never accused my adversaries of assassination. +I never felt or feigned a righteous horror, when a price was put upon my +life by those whom I attacked. I never called the policeman a hireling. +I may have been a criminal, in short; but I never was a fool.’ + +‘Enough, madam,’ returned the Prince: ‘more than enough! Your words are +most reviving to my spirits; for in this age, when even the assassin is a +sentimentalist, there is no virtue greater in my eyes than intellectual +clarity. Suffer me, then, to ask you to retire; for by the signal of +that bell, I perceive my old friend, your mother, to be close at hand. +With her I promise you to do my utmost.’ + +And as Mrs. Desborough returned to the Divan, the Prince, opening a door +upon the other side, admitted Mrs. Luxmore. + +‘Madam and my very good friend,’ said he, ‘is my face so much changed +that you no longer recognise Prince Florizel in Mr. Godall?’ + +‘To be sure!’ she cried, looking at him through her glasses. ‘I have +always regarded your Highness as a perfect man; and in your altered +circumstances, of which I have already heard with deep regret, I will beg +you to consider my respect increased instead of lessened.’ + +‘I have found it so,’ returned the Prince, ‘with every class of my +acquaintance. But, madam, I pray you to be seated. My business is of a +delicate order, and regards your daughter.’ + +‘In that case,’ said Mrs. Luxmore, ‘you may save yourself the trouble of +speaking, for I have fully made up my mind to have nothing to do with +her. I will not hear one word in her defence; but as I value nothing so +particularly as the virtue of justice, I think it my duty to explain to +you the grounds of my complaint. She deserted me, her natural protector; +for years, she has consorted with the most disreputable persons; and to +fill the cup of her offence, she has recently married. I refuse to see +her, or the being to whom she has linked herself. One hundred and twenty +pounds a year, I have always offered her: I offer it again. It is what I +had myself when I was her age.’ + +‘Very well, madam,’ said the Prince; ‘and be that so! But to touch upon +another matter: what was the income of the Reverend Bernard Fanshawe?’ + +‘My father?’ asked the spirited old lady. ‘I believe he had seven +hundred pounds in the year.’ + +‘You were one, I think, of several?’ pursued the Prince. + +‘Of four,’ was the reply. ‘We were four daughters; and painful as the +admission is to make, a more detestable family could scarce be found in +England.’ + +‘Dear me!’ said the Prince. ‘And you, madam, have an income of eight +thousand?’ + +‘Not more than five,’ returned the old lady; ‘but where on earth are you +conducting me?’ + +‘To an allowance of one thousand pounds a year,’ replied Florizel, +smiling. ‘For I must not suffer you to take your father for a rule. He +was poor, you are rich. He had many calls upon his poverty: there are +none upon your wealth. And indeed, madam, if you will let me touch this +matter with a needle, there is but one point in common to your two +positions: that each had a daughter more remarkable for liveliness than +duty.’ + +‘I have been entrapped into this house,’ said the old lady, getting to +her feet. ‘But it shall not avail. Not all the tobacconists in Europe . . .’ + +‘Ah, madam,’ interrupted Florizel, ‘before what is referred to as my +fall, you had not used such language! And since you so much object to +the simple industry by which I live, let me give you a friendly hint. If +you will not consent to support your daughter, I shall be constrained to +place that lady behind my counter, where I doubt not she would prove a +great attraction; and your son-in-law shall have a livery and run the +errands. With such young blood my business might be doubled, and I might +be bound in common gratitude to place the name of Luxmore beside that of +Godall.’ + +‘Your Highness,’ said the old lady, ‘I have been very rude, and you are +very cunning. I suppose the minx is on the premises. Produce her.’ + +‘Let us rather observe them unperceived,’ said the Prince; and so saying +he rose and quietly drew back the curtain. + +Mrs. Desborough sat with her back to them on a chair; Somerset and Harry +were hanging on her words with extraordinary interest; Challoner, +alleging some affair, had long ago withdrawn from the detested +neighbourhood of the enchantress. + +‘At that moment,’ Mrs. Desborough was saying, ‘Mr Gladstone detected the +features of his cowardly assailant. A cry rose to his lips: a cry of +mingled triumph . . .’ + +‘That is Mr. Somerset!’ interrupted the spirited old lady, in the highest +note of her register. ‘Mr. Somerset, what have you done with my +house-property?’ + +‘Madam,’ said the Prince, ‘let it be mine to give the explanation; and in +the meanwhile, welcome your daughter.’ + +‘Well, Clara, how do you do?’ said Mrs. Luxmore. ‘It appears I am to +give you an allowance. So much the better for you. As for Mr. Somerset, +I am very ready to have an explanation; for the whole affair, though +costly, was eminently humorous. And at any rate,’ she added, nodding to +Paul, ‘he is a young gentleman for whom I have a great affection, and his +pictures were the funniest I ever saw.’ + +‘I have ordered a collation,’ said the Prince. ‘Mr. Somerset, as these +are all your friends, I propose, if you please, that you should join them +at table. I will take the shop.’ + + + + +Footnotes + + +{9} Hereupon the Arabian author enters on one of his digressions. +Fearing, apparently, that the somewhat eccentric views of Mr. Somerset +should throw discredit on a part of truth, he calls upon the English +people to remember with more gratitude the services of the police; to +what unobserved and solitary acts of heroism they are called; against +what odds of numbers and of arms, and for how small a reward, either in +fame or money: matter, it has appeared to the translators, too serious +for this place. + +{43} In this name the accent falls upon the _e_; the _s_ is sibilant. + +{176} The Arabian author of the original has here a long passage +conceived in a style too oriental for the English reader. We subjoin a +specimen, and it seems doubtful whether it should be printed as prose or +verse: ‘Any writard who writes dynamitard shall find in me a +never-resting fightard;’ and he goes on (if we correctly gather his +meaning) to object to such elegant and obviously correct spellings as +lamp-lightard, corn-dealard, apple-filchard (clearly justified by the +parallel—pilchard) and opera dancard. ‘Dynamitist,’ he adds, ‘I could +understand.’ + +{182} The Arabian author, with that quaint particularity of touch which +our translation usually prætermits, here registers a somewhat interesting +detail. Zero pronounced the word ‘boom;’ and the reader, if but for the +nonce, will possibly consent to follow him. + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DYNAMITER*** + + +******* This file should be named 647-0.txt or 647-0.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/6/4/647 + + + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://www.gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: +http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + |