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diff --git a/7691-h/7691-h.htm b/7691-h/7691-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3a245fa --- /dev/null +++ b/7691-h/7691-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,19162 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Lucretia, by Edward Bulwer Lytton + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd7; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Lucretia, Complete, by Edward Bulwer-Lytton + +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: Lucretia, Complete + +Author: Edward Bulwer-Lytton + +Release Date: March 16, 2009 [EBook #7691] +Last Updated: August 28, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LUCRETIA, COMPLETE *** + + + + +Produced by Tapio Riikonen and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + LUCRETIA + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Edward Bulwer Lytton + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1853. </a> + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_PREF2"> PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. </a> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h3> + <a href="#link2H_PART1"> PART THE FIRST. </a> + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_PROL"> PROLOGUE TO PART THE + FIRST. </a> <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. + </a> A FAMILY GROUP. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> + CHAPTER II. </a> LUCRETIA. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> + CHAPTER III. </a> CONFERENCES. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> GUY’S OAK. <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> HOUSEHOLD TREASON. + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> THE WILL + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> THE + ENGAGEMENT. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> THE + DISCOVERY. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> A + SOUL WITHOUT HOPE. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> THE + RECONCILIATION BETWEEN FATHER AND SON. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_EPIL"> + EPILOGUE TO PART THE FIRST. </a> <br /><br /> + </p> + <h3> + <a href="#Blink2H_PART2"> PART THE SECOND. </a> + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> <a href="#Blink2H_PROL"> PROLOGUE TO PART THE + SECOND. </a> <br /><br /> <a href="#Blink2HCH0011"> CHAPTER I. + </a> THE CORONATION. <br /><br /> <a href="#Blink2HCH0012"> + CHAPTER II. </a> LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT. <br /><br /> <a + href="#Blink2HCH0013"> CHAPTER III. </a> EARLY TRAINING FOR + AN UPRIGHT GENTLEMAN. <br /><br /> <a href="#Blink2HCH0014"> CHAPTER IV. + </a> JOHN ARDWORTH. <br /><br /> <a href="#Blink2HCH0015"> + CHAPTER V. </a> THE WEAVERS AND THE WOOF. <br /><br /> <a + href="#Blink2HCH0016"> CHAPTER VI. </a> THE LAWYER AND THE + BODY-SNATCHER. <br /><br /> <a href="#Blink2HCH0017"> CHAPTER VII. </a> THE + RAPE OF THE MATTRESS. <br /><br /> <a href="#Blink2HCH0018"> CHAPTER VIII. + </a> PERCIVAL VISITS LUCRETIA. <br /><br /> <a + href="#Blink2HCH0019"> CHAPTER IX. </a> THE ROSE BENEATH THE + UPAS. <br /><br /> <a href="#Blink2HCH0020"> CHAPTER X. </a> THE + RATTLE OF THE SNAKE. <br /><br /> <a href="#Blink2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XI. + </a> LOVE AND INNOCENCE. <br /><br /> <a href="#Blink2HCH0022"> + CHAPTER XII. </a> SUDDEN CELEBRITY AND PATIENT HOPE. <br /><br /> + <a href="#Blink2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> THE LOSS OF THE + CROSSING. <br /><br /> <a href="#Blink2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> NEWS + FROM GRABMAN. <br /><br /> <a href="#Blink2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XV. </a> VARIETIES. + <br /><br /> <a href="#Blink2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> THE + INVITATION TO LAUGHTON. <br /><br /> <a href="#Blink2HCH0027"> CHAPTER + XVII. </a> THE WAKING OF THE SERPENT. <br /><br /> <a + href="#Blink2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a> RETROSPECT. <br /><br /> + <a href="#Blink2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> MR. GRABMAN’S + ADVENTURES. <br /><br /> <a href="#Blink2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XX. </a> MORE + OF MRS. JOPLIN. <br /><br /> <a href="#Blink2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXI. </a> BECK’S + DISCOVERY. <br /><br /> <a href="#Blink2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXII. </a> THE + TAPESTRY CHAMBER. <br /><br /> <a href="#Blink2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXIII. + </a> THE SHADES ON THE DIAL <br /><br /> <a + href="#Blink2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a> MURDER, TOWARDS HIS + DESIGN, MOVES LIKE A GHOST. <br /><br /> <a href="#Blink2HCH0035"> CHAPTER + XXV. </a> THE MESSENGER SPEEDS. <br /><br /> <a + href="#Blink2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XXVI. </a> THE SPY FLIES. + <br /><br /> <a href="#Blink2HCH0037"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a> LUCRETIA + REGAINS HER SON. <br /><br /> <a href="#Blink2HCH0038"> CHAPTER XXVIII. + </a> THE LOTS VANISH WITHIN THE URN. <br /><br /> <a + href="#Blink2H_EPIL"> EPILOGUE TO PART THE SECOND. </a> + <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1853. + </h2> + <p> + “Lucretia; or, The Children of Night,” was begun simultaneously with “The + Caxtons: a Family Picture.” The two fictions were intended as pendants; + both serving, amongst other collateral aims and objects, to show the + influence of home education, of early circumstance and example, upon after + character and conduct. “Lucretia” was completed and published before “The + Caxtons.” The moral design of the first was misunderstood and assailed; + that of the last was generally acknowledged and approved: the moral design + in both was nevertheless precisely the same. But in one it was sought + through the darker side of human nature; in the other through the more + sunny and cheerful: one shows the evil, the other the salutary influences, + of early circumstance and training. Necessarily, therefore, the first + resorts to the tragic elements of awe and distress,—the second to + the comic elements of humour and agreeable emotion. These differences + serve to explain the different reception that awaited the two, and may + teach us how little the real conception of an author is known, and how + little it is cared for; we judge, not by the purpose he conceives, but + according as the impressions he effects are pleasurable or painful. But + while I cannot acquiesce in much of the hostile criticism this fiction + produced at its first appearance, I readily allow that as a mere question + of art the story might have been improved in itself, and rendered more + acceptable to the reader, by diminishing the gloom of the catastrophe. In + this edition I have endeavoured to do so; and the victim whose fate in the + former cast of the work most revolted the reader, as a violation of the + trite but amiable law of Poetical Justice, is saved from the hands of the + Children of Night. Perhaps, whatever the faults of this work, it equals + most of its companions in the sustainment of interest, and in that + coincidence between the gradual development of motive or passion, and the + sequences of external events constituting plot, which mainly distinguish + the physical awe of tragedy from the coarse horrors of melodrama. I trust + at least that I shall now find few readers who will not readily + acknowledge that the delineation of crime has only been employed for the + grave and impressive purpose which brings it within the due province of + the poet,—as an element of terror and a warning to the heart. + </p> + <p> + LONDON, December 7. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PREF2" id="link2H_PREF2"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. + </h2> + <p> + It is somewhere about four years since I appeared before the public as the + writer of a fiction, which I then intimated would probably be my last; but + bad habits are stronger than good intentions. When Fabricio, in his + hospital, resolved upon abjuring the vocation of the Poet, he was, in + truth, recommencing his desperate career by a Farewell to the Muses,—I + need not apply the allusion. + </p> + <p> + I must own, however, that there had long been a desire in my mind to + trace, in some work or other, the strange and secret ways through which + that Arch-ruler of Civilization, familiarly called “Money,” insinuates + itself into our thoughts and motives, our hearts and actions; affecting + those who undervalue as those who overestimate its importance; ruining + virtues in the spendthrift no less than engendering vices in the miser. + But when I half implied my farewell to the character of a novelist, I had + imagined that this conception might be best worked out upon the stage. + After some unpublished and imperfect attempts towards so realizing my + design, I found either that the subject was too wide for the limits of the + Drama, or that I wanted that faculty of concentration which alone enables + the dramatist to compress multiform varieties into a very limited compass. + With this design, I desired to unite some exhibition of what seems to me a + principal vice in the hot and emulous chase for happiness or fame, fortune + or knowledge, which is almost synonymous with the cant phrase of “the + March of Intellect,” in that crisis of society to which we have arrived. + The vice I allude to is Impatience. That eager desire to press forward, + not so much to conquer obstacles as to elude them; that gambling with the + solemn destinies of life, seeking ever to set success upon the chance of a + die; that hastening from the wish conceived to the end accomplished; that + thirst after quick returns to ingenious toil, and breathless spurrings + along short cuts to the goal, which we see everywhere around us, from the + Mechanics’ Institute to the Stock Market,—beginning in education + with the primers of infancy, deluging us with “Philosophies for the + Million” and “Sciences made Easy;” characterizing the books of our + writers, the speeches of our statesmen, no less than the dealings of our + speculators,—seem, I confess, to me to constitute a very diseased + and very general symptom of the times. I hold that the greatest friend to + man is labour; that knowledge without toil, if possible, were worthless; + that toil in pursuit of knowledge is the best knowledge we can attain; + that the continuous effort for fame is nobler than fame itself; that it is + not wealth suddenly acquired which is deserving of homage, but the virtues + which a man exercises in the slow pursuit of wealth,—the abilities + so called forth, the self-denials so imposed; in a word, that Labour and + Patience are the true schoolmasters on earth. While occupied with these + ideas and this belief, whether right or wrong, and slowly convinced that + it was only in that species of composition with which I was most familiar + that I could work out some portion of the plan that I began to + contemplate, I became acquainted with the histories of two criminals + existing in our own age,—so remarkable, whether from the extent and + darkness of the guilt committed, whether from the glittering + accomplishments and lively temper of the one, the profound knowledge and + intellectual capacities of the other, that the examination and analysis of + characters so perverted became a study full of intense, if gloomy, + interest. + </p> + <p> + In these persons there appear to have been as few redeemable points as can + be found in Human Nature, so far as such points may be traced in the + kindly instincts and generous passions which do sometimes accompany the + perpetration of great crimes, and, without excusing the individual, + vindicate the species. Yet, on the other hand, their sanguinary wickedness + was not the dull ferocity of brutes; it was accompanied with instruction + and culture,—nay, it seemed to me, on studying their lives and + pondering over their own letters, that through their cultivation itself we + could arrive at the secret of the ruthless and atrocious pre-eminence in + evil these Children of Night had attained; that here the monster vanished + into the mortal, and the phenomena that seemed aberrations from Nature + were explained. + </p> + <p> + I could not resist the temptation of reducing to a tale the materials + which had so engrossed my interest and tasked my inquiries. And in this + attempt, various incidental opportunities have occurred, if not of + completely carrying out, still of incidentally illustrating, my earlier + design,—of showing the influence of Mammon upon our most secret + selves, of reproving the impatience which is engendered by a civilization + that, with much of the good, brings all the evils of competition, and of + tracing throughout, all the influences of early household life upon our + subsequent conduct and career. In such incidental bearings the moral may + doubtless be more obvious than in the delineation of the darker and rarer + crime which forms the staple of my narrative. For in extraordinary guilt + we are slow to recognize ordinary warnings,—we say to the peaceful + conscience, “This concerns thee not!” whereas at each instance of familiar + fault and commonplace error we own a direct and sensible admonition. Yet + in the portraiture of gigantic crime, poets have rightly found their + sphere and fulfilled their destiny of teachers. Those terrible truths + which appall us in the guilt of Macbeth or the villany of Iago, have their + moral uses not less than the popular infirmities of Tom Jones, or the + every-day hypocrisy of Blifil. Incredible as it may seem, the crimes + herein related took place within the last seventeen years. There has been + no exaggeration as to their extent, no great departure from their details; + the means employed, even that which seems most far-fetched,—the + instrument of the poisoned ring,—have their foundation in literal + facts. Nor have I much altered the social position of the criminals, nor + in the least overrated their attainments and intelligence. In those more + salient essentials which will most, perhaps, provoke the Reader’s + incredulous wonder, I narrate a history, not invent a fiction [These + criminals were not, however, in actual life, as in the novel, intimates + and accomplices. Their crimes were of similar character, effected by + similar agencies, and committed at dates which embrace their several + careers of guilt within the same period; but I have no authority to + suppose that the one was known to the other.]. All that Romance which our + own time affords is not more the romance than the philosophy of the time. + Tragedy never quits the world,—it surrounds us everywhere. We have + but to look, wakeful and vigilant, abroad, and from the age of Pelops to + that of Borgia, the same crimes, though under different garbs, will stalk + on our paths. Each age comprehends in itself specimens of every virtue and + every vice which has ever inspired our love or moved our horror. + </p> + <p> + LONDON, November 1, 1846. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PART1" id="link2H_PART1"></a> + </p> + <h1> + PART THE FIRST. + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PROL" id="link2H_PROL"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PROLOGUE TO PART THE FIRST. + </h2> + <p> + In an apartment at Paris, one morning during the Reign of Terror, a man, + whose age might be somewhat under thirty, sat before a table covered with + papers, arranged and labelled with the methodical precision of a mind fond + of order and habituated to business. Behind him rose a tall bookcase + surmounted with a bust of Robespierre, and the shelves were filled chiefly + with works of a scientific character, amongst which the greater number + were on chemistry and medicine. There were to be seen also many rare books + on alchemy, the great Italian historians, some English philosophical + treatises, and a few manuscripts in Arabic. The absence from this + collection of the stormy literature of the day seemed to denote that the + owner was a quiet student, living apart from the strife and passions of + the Revolution. This supposition was, however, disproved by certain papers + on the table, which were formally and laconically labelled “Reports on + Lyons,” and by packets of letters in the handwritings of Robespierre and + Couthon. At one of the windows a young boy was earnestly engaged in some + occupation which appeared to excite the curiosity of the person just + described; for this last, after examining the child’s movements for a few + moments with a silent scrutiny that betrayed but little of the + half-complacent, half-melancholy affection with which busy man is apt to + regard childhood, rose noiselessly from his seat, approached the boy, and + looked over his shoulder unobserved. In a crevice of the wood by the + window, a huge black spider had formed his web; the child had just + discovered another spider, and placed it in the meshes: he was watching + the result of his operations. The intrusive spider stood motionless in the + midst of the web, as if fascinated. The rightful possessor was also + quiescent; but a very fine ear might have caught a low, humming sound, + which probably augured no hospitable intentions to the invader. Anon, the + stranger insect seemed suddenly to awake from its amaze; it evinced alarm, + and turned to fly; the huge spider darted forward; the boy uttered a + chuckle of delight. The man’s pale lip curled into a sinister sneer, and + he glided back to his seat. There, leaning his face on his hand, he + continued to contemplate the child. That child might have furnished to an + artist a fitting subject for fair and blooming infancy. His light hair, + tinged deeply, it is true, with red, hung in sleek and glittering + abundance down his neck and shoulders. His features, seen in profile, were + delicately and almost femininely proportioned; health glowed on his cheek, + and his form, slight though it was, gave promise of singular activity and + vigour. His dress was fantastic, and betrayed the taste of some fondly + foolish mother; but the fine linen, trimmed with lace, was rumpled and + stained, the velvet jacket unbrushed, the shoes soiled with dust,—slight + tokens these of neglect, but serving to show that the foolish fondness + which had invented the dress had not of late presided over the toilet. + </p> + <p> + “Child,” said the man, first in French; and observing that the boy heeded + him not,—“child,” he repeated in English, which he spoke well, + though with a foreign accent, “child!” + </p> + <p> + The boy turned quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Has the great spider devoured the small one?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” said the boy, colouring; “the small one has had the best of + it.” + </p> + <p> + The tone and heightened complexion of the child seemed to give meaning to + his words,—at least, so the man thought, for a slight frown passed + over his high, thoughtful brow. + </p> + <p> + “Spiders, then,” he said, after a short pause, “are different from men; + with us, the small do not get the better of the great. Hum! do you still + miss your mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” and the boy advanced eagerly to the table. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you will see her once again.” + </p> + <p> + “When?” + </p> + <p> + The man looked towards a clock on the mantelpiece,—“Before that + clock strikes. Now, go back to your spiders.” The child looked irresolute + and disinclined to obey; but a stern and terrible expression gathered + slowly over the man’s face, and the boy, growing pale as he remarked it, + crept back to the window. + </p> + <p> + The father—for such was the relation the owner of the room bore to + the child—drew paper and ink towards him, and wrote for some minutes + rapidly. Then starting up, he glanced at the clock, took his hat and + cloak, which lay on a chair beside, drew up the collar of the mantle till + it almost concealed his countenance, and said, “Now, boy, come with me; I + have promised to show you an execution: I am going to keep my promise. + Come!” + </p> + <p> + The boy clapped his hands with joy; and you might see then, child as he + was, that those fair features were capable of a cruel and ferocious + expression. The character of the whole face changed. He caught up his gay + cap and plume, and followed his father into the streets. + </p> + <p> + Silently the two took their way towards the Barriere du Trone. At a + distance they saw the crowd growing thick and dense as throng after throng + hurried past them, and the dreadful guillotine rose high in the light blue + air. As they came into the skirts of the mob, the father, for the first + time, took his child’s hand. “I must get you a good place for the show,” + he said, with a quiet smile. + </p> + <p> + There was something in the grave, staid, courteous, yet haughty bearing of + the man that made the crowd give way as he passed. They got near the + dismal scene, and obtained entrance into a wagon already crowded with + eager spectators. + </p> + <p> + And now they heard at a distance the harsh and lumbering roll of the + tumbril that bore the victims, and the tramp of the horses which guarded + the procession of death. The boy’s whole attention was absorbed in + expectation of the spectacle, and his ear was perhaps less accustomed to + French, though born and reared in France, than to the language of his + mother’s lips,—and she was English; thus he did not hear or heed + certain observations of the bystanders, which made his father’s pale cheek + grow paler. + </p> + <p> + “What is the batch to-day?” quoth a butcher in the wagon. “Scarce worth + the baking,—only two; but one, they say, is an aristocrat,—a + ci-devant marquis,” answered a carpenter. “Ah, a marquis! Bon! And the + other?” + </p> + <p> + “Only a dancer, but a pretty one, it is true; I could pity her, but she is + English.” And as he pronounced the last word, with a tone of inexpressible + contempt, the butcher spat, as if in nausea. + </p> + <p> + “Mort diable! a spy of Pitt’s, no doubt. What did they discover?” + </p> + <p> + A man, better dressed than the rest, turned round with a smile, and + answered: “Nothing worse than a lover, I believe; but that lover was a + proscrit. The ci-devant marquis was caught disguised in her apartment. She + betrayed for him a good, easy friend of the people who had long loved her, + and revenge is sweet.” + </p> + <p> + The man whom we have accompanied, nervously twitched up the collar of his + cloak, and his compressed lips told that he felt the anguish of the laugh + that circled round him. + </p> + <p> + “They are coming! There they are!” cried the boy, in ecstatic excitement. + </p> + <p> + “That’s the way to bring up citizens,” said the butcher, patting the + child’s shoulder, and opening a still better view for him at the edge of + the wagon. + </p> + <p> + The crowd now abruptly gave way. The tumbril was in sight. A man, young + and handsome, standing erect and with folded arms in the fatal vehicle, + looked along the mob with an eye of careless scorn. Though he wore the + dress of a workman, the most unpractised glance could detect, in his mien + and bearing, one of the hated noblesse, whose characteristics came out + even more forcibly at the hour of death. On the lip was that smile of gay + and insolent levity, on the brow that gallant if reckless contempt of + physical danger, which had signalized the hero-coxcombs of the old regime. + Even the rude dress was worn with a certain air of foppery, and the bright + hair was carefully adjusted, as if for the holiday of the headsman. As the + eyes of the young noble wandered over the fierce faces of that horrible + assembly, while a roar of hideous triumph answered the look, in which for + the last time the gentilhomme spoke his scorn of the canaille, the child’s + father lowered the collar of his cloak, and slowly raised his hat from his + brow. The eye of the marquis rested upon the countenance thus abruptly + shown to him, and which suddenly became individualized amongst the crowd,—that + eye instantly lost its calm contempt. A shudder passed visibly over his + frame, and his cheek grew blanched with terror. The mob saw the change, + but not the cause, and loud and louder rose their triumphant yell. The + sound recalled the pride of the young noble; he started, lifted his crest + erect, and sought again to meet the look which had appalled him. But he + could no longer single it out among the crowd. Hat and cloak once more hid + the face of the foe, and crowds of eager heads intercepted the view. The + young marquis’s lips muttered; he bent down, and then the crowd caught + sight of his companion, who was being lifted up from the bottom of the + tumbril, where she had flung herself in horror and despair. The crowd grew + still in a moment as the pale face of one, familiar to most of them, + turned wildly from place to place in the dreadful scene, vainly and madly + through its silence imploring life and pity. How often had the sight of + that face, not then pale and haggard, but wreathed with rosy smiles, + sufficed to draw down the applause of the crowded theatre; how, then, had + those breasts, now fevered by the thirst of blood, held hearts spellbound + by the airy movements of that exquisite form writhing now in no stage-mime + agony! Plaything of the city, minion to the light amusement of the hour, + frail child of Cytherea and the Graces, what relentless fate has conducted + thee to the shambles? Butterfly of the summer, why should a nation rise to + break thee upon the wheel? A sense of the mockery of such an execution, of + the horrible burlesque that would sacrifice to the necessities of a mighty + people so slight an offering, made itself felt among the crowd. There was + a low murmur of shame and indignation. The dangerous sympathy of the mob + was perceived by the officer in attendance. Hastily he made the sign to + the headsman, and as he did so, a child’s cry was heard in the English + tongue,—“Mother! Mother!” The father’s hand grasped the child’s arm + with an iron pressure; the crowd swam before the boy’s eyes; the air + seemed to stifle him, and become blood-red; only through the hum and the + tramp and the roll of the drums he heard a low voice hiss in his ear + “Learn how they perish who betray me!” + </p> + <p> + As the father said these words, again his face was bare, and the woman, + whose ear amidst the dull insanity of fear had caught the cry of her + child’s voice, saw that face, and fell back insensible in the arms of the + headsman. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. A FAMILY GROUP. + </h2> + <p> + One July evening, at the commencement of the present century, several + persons were somewhat picturesquely grouped along an old-fashioned terrace + which skirted the garden-side of a manor-house that had considerable + pretensions to baronial dignity. The architecture was of the most enriched + and elaborate style belonging to the reign of James the First: the porch, + opening on the terrace, with its mullion window above, was encased with + pilasters and reliefs at once ornamental and massive; and the large square + tower in which it was placed was surmounted by a stone falcon, whose + talons griped fiercely a scutcheon blazoned with the five-pointed stars + which heralds recognize as the arms of St. John. On either side this tower + extended long wings, the dark brickwork of which was relieved with noble + stone casements and carved pediments; the high roof was partially + concealed by a balustrade perforated not inelegantly into arabesque + designs; and what architects call “the sky line” was broken with imposing + effect by tall chimney-shafts of various form and fashion. These wings + terminated in angular towers similar to the centre, though kept duly + subordinate to it both in size and decoration, and crowned with stone + cupolas. A low balustrade, of later date than that which adorned the roof, + relieved by vases and statues, bordered the terrace, from which a double + flight of steps descended to a smooth lawn, intersected by broad + gravel-walks, shadowed by vast and stately cedars, and gently and + gradually mingling with the wilder scenery of the park, from which it was + only divided by a ha-ha. + </p> + <p> + Upon the terrace, and under cover of a temporary awning, sat the owner, + Sir Miles St. John of Laughton, a comely old man, dressed with faithful + precision to the costume which he had been taught to consider appropriate + to his rank of gentleman, and which was not yet wholly obsolete and + eccentric. His hair, still thick and luxuriant, was carefully powdered, + and collected into a club behind; his nether man attired in gray breeches + and pearl-coloured silk stockings; his vest of silk, opening wide at the + breast, and showing a profusion of frill, slightly sprinkled with the + pulvilio of his favourite Martinique; his three-cornered hat, placed on a + stool at his side, with a gold-headed crutch-cane (hat made rather to be + carried in the hand than worn on the head), the diamond in his + shirt-breast, the diamond on his finger, the ruffles at his wrist,—all + bespoke the gallant who had chatted with Lord Chesterfield and supped with + Mrs. Clive. On a table before him were placed two or three decanters of + wine, the fruits of the season, an enamelled snuff-box in which was set + the portrait of a female (perhaps the Chloe or Phyllis of his early + love-ditties), a lighted taper, a small china jar containing tobacco, and + three or four pipes of homely clay,—for cherry-sticks and + meerschaums were not then in fashion, and Sir Miles St. John, once a gay + and sparkling beau, now a popular country gentleman, great at county + meetings and sheep-shearing festivals, had taken to smoking, as in harmony + with his bucolic transformation. An old setter lay dozing at his feet; a + small spaniel—old, too—was sauntering lazily in the immediate + neighbourhood, looking gravely out for such stray bits of biscuit as had + been thrown forth to provoke him to exercise, and which hitherto had + escaped his attention. Half seated, half reclined on the balustrade, apart + from the baronet, but within reach of his conversation, lolled a man in + the prime of life, with an air of unmistakable and sovereign elegance and + distinction. Mr. Vernon was a guest from London; and the London man,—the + man of clubs and dinners and routs, of noon loungings through Bond Street, + and nights spent with the Prince of Wales,—seemed stamped not more + upon the careful carelessness of his dress, and upon the worn expression + of his delicate features, than upon the listless ennui, which, + characterizing both his face and attitude, appeared to take pity on + himself for having been entrapped into the country. + </p> + <p> + Yet we should convey an erroneous impression of Mr. Vernon if we designed, + by the words “listless ennui,” to depict the slumberous insipidity of more + modern affectation; it was not the ennui of a man to whom ennui is + habitual, it was rather the indolent prostration that fills up the + intervals of excitement. At that day the word blast was unknown; men had + not enough sentiment for satiety. There was a kind of Bacchanalian fury in + the life led by those leaders of fashion, among whom Mr. Vernon was not + the least distinguished; it was a day of deep drinking, of high play, of + jovial, reckless dissipation, of strong appetite for fun and riot, of + four-in-hand coachmanship, of prize-fighting, of a strange sort of + barbarous manliness that strained every nerve of the constitution,—a + race of life in which three fourths of the competitors died half-way in + the hippodrome. What is now the Dandy was then the Buck; and something of + the Buck, though subdued by a chaster taste than fell to the ordinary + members of his class, was apparent in Mr. Vernon’s costume as well as air. + Intricate folds of muslin, arranged in prodigious bows and ends, formed + the cravat, which Brummell had not yet arisen to reform; his hat, of a + very peculiar shape, low at the crown and broad at the brim, was worn with + an air of devil-me-care defiance; his watch-chain, garnished with a + profusion of rings and seals, hung low from his white waistcoat; and the + adaptation of his nankeen inexpressibles to his well-shaped limbs was a + masterpiece of art. His whole dress and air was not what could properly be + called foppish, it was rather what at that time was called “rakish.” Few + could so closely approach vulgarity without being vulgar: of that + privileged few, Mr. Vernon was one of the elect. + </p> + <p> + Farther on, and near the steps descending into the garden, stood a man in + an attitude of profound abstraction, his arms folded, his eyes bent on the + ground, his brows slightly contracted; his dress was a plain black + surtout, and pantaloons of the same colour. Something both in the fashion + of the dress, and still more in the face of the man, bespoke the + foreigner. + </p> + <p> + Sir Miles St. John was an accomplished person for that time of day. He had + made the grand tour; he had bought pictures and statues; he spoke and + wrote well in the modern languages; and being rich, hospitable, social, + and not averse from the reputation of a patron, he had opened his house + freely to the host of emigrants whom the French Revolution had driven to + our coasts. Olivier Dalibard, a man of considerable learning and rare + scientific attainments, had been tutor in the house of the Marquis de G——, + a French nobleman known many years before to the old baronet. The marquis + and his family had been among the first emigres at the outbreak of the + Revolution. The tutor had remained behind; for at that time no danger + appeared to threaten those who pretended to no other aristocracy than that + of letters. Contrary, as he said, with repentant modesty, to his own + inclinations, he had been compelled, not only for his own safety, but for + that of his friends, to take some part in the subsequent events of the + Revolution,—a part far from sincere, though so well had he simulated + the patriot that he had won the personal favour and protection of + Robespierre; nor till the fall of that virtuous exterminator had he + withdrawn from the game of politics and effected in disguise his escape to + England. As, whether from kindly or other motives, he had employed the + power of his position in the esteem of Robespierre to save certain noble + heads from the guillotine,—amongst others, the two brothers of the + Marquis de G——, he was received with grateful welcome by his + former patrons, who readily pardoned his career of Jacobinism from their + belief in his excuses and their obligations to the services which that + very career had enabled him to render to their kindred. Olivier Dalibard + had accompanied the marquis and his family in one of the frequent visits + they paid to Laughton; and when the marquis finally quitted England, and + fixed his refuge at Vienna, with some connections of his wife’s, he felt a + lively satisfaction at the thought of leaving his friend honourably, if + unambitiously, provided for as secretary and librarian to Sir Miles St. + John. In fact, the scholar, who possessed considerable powers of + fascination, had won no less favour with the English baronet than he had + with the French dictator. He played well both at chess and backgammon; he + was an extraordinary accountant; he had a variety of information upon all + points that rendered him more convenient than any cyclopaedia in Sir + Miles’s library; and as he spoke both English and Italian with a + correctness and fluency extremely rare in a Frenchman, he was of + considerable service in teaching languages to, as well as directing the + general literary education of, Sir Miles’s favourite niece, whom we shall + take an early opportunity to describe at length. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, there had been one serious obstacle to Dalibard’s acceptance + of the appointment offered to him by Sir Miles. Dalibard had under his + charge a young orphan boy of some ten or twelve years old,—a boy + whom Sir Miles was not long in suspecting to be the scholar’s son. This + child had come from France with Dalibard, and while the marquis’s family + were in London, remained under the eye and care of his guardian or father, + whichever was the true connection between the two. But this + superintendence became impossible if Dalibard settled in Hampshire with + Sir Miles St. John, and the boy remained in London; nor, though the + generous old gentleman offered to pay for the child’s schooling, would + Dalibard consent to part with him. At last the matter was arranged: the + boy was invited to Laughton on a visit, and was so lively, yet so well + mannered, that he became a favourite, and was now fairly quartered in the + house with his reputed father; and not to make an unnecessary mystery of + this connection, such was in truth the relationship between Olivier + Dalibard and Honore Gabriel Varney,—a name significant of the double + and illegitimate origin: a French father, an English mother. Dropping, + however, the purely French appellation of Honore, he went familiarly by + that of Gabriel. Half-way down the steps stood the lad, pencil and tablet + in hand, sketching. Let us look over his shoulder: it is his father’s + likeness,—a countenance in itself not very remarkable at the first + glance, for the features were small; but when examined, it was one that + most persons, women especially, would have pronounced handsome, and to + which none could deny the higher praise of thought and intellect. A native + of Provence, with some Italian blood in his veins,—for his + grandfather, a merchant of Marseilles, had married into a Florentine + family settled at Leghorn,—the dark complexion common with those in + the South had been subdued, probably by the habits of the student, into a + bronze and steadfast paleness which seemed almost fair by the contrast of + the dark hair which he wore unpowdered, and the still darker brows which + hung thick and prominent over clear gray eyes. Compared with the features, + the skull was disproportionally large, both behind and before; and a + physiognomist would have drawn conclusions more favourable to the power + than the tenderness of the Provencal’s character from the compact + closeness of the lips and the breadth and massiveness of the iron jaw. But + the son’s sketch exaggerated every feature, and gave to the expression a + malignant and terrible irony not now, at least, apparent in the quiet and + meditative aspect. Gabriel himself, as he stood, would have been a more + tempting study to many an artist. It is true that he was small for his + years; but his frame had a vigour in its light proportions which came from + a premature and almost adolescent symmetry of shape and muscular + development. The countenance, however, had much of effeminate beauty: the + long hair reached the shoulders, but did not curl,—straight, fine, + and glossy as a girl’s, and in colour of the pale auburn, tinged with red, + which rarely alters in hue as childhood matures to man; the complexion was + dazzlingly clear and fair. Nevertheless, there was something so hard in + the lip, so bold, though not open, in the brow, that the girlishness of + complexion, and even of outline, could not leave, on the whole, an + impression of effeminacy. All the hereditary keenness and intelligence + were stamped upon his face at that moment; but the expression had also a + large share of the very irony and malice which he had conveyed to his + caricature. The drawing itself was wonderfully vigorous and distinct; + showing great artistic promise, and done with the rapidity and ease which + betrayed practice. Suddenly his father turned, and with as sudden a + quickness the boy concealed his tablet in his vest; and the sinister + expression of his face smoothed into a timorous smile as his eye + encountered Dalibard’s. The father beckoned to the boy, who approached + with alacrity. “Gabriel,” whispered the Frenchman, in his own tongue, + “where are they at this moment?” + </p> + <p> + The boy pointed silently towards one of the cedars. Dalibard mused an + instant, and then, slowly descending the steps, took his noiseless way + over the smooth turf towards the tree. Its boughs drooped low and spread + wide; and not till he was within a few paces of the spot could his eye + perceive two forms seated on a bench under the dark green canopy. He then + paused and contemplated them. + </p> + <p> + The one was a young man whose simple dress and subdued air strongly + contrasted the artificial graces and the modish languor of Mr. Vernon; but + though wholly without that nameless distinction which sometimes + characterizes those conscious of pure race and habituated to the + atmosphere of courts, he had at least Nature’s stamp of aristocracy in a + form eminently noble, and features of manly, but surpassing beauty, which + were not rendered less engaging by an expression of modest timidity. He + seemed to be listening with thoughtful respect to his companion, a young + female by his side, who was speaking to him with an earnestness visible in + her gestures and her animated countenance. And though there was much to + notice in the various persons scattered over the scene, not one, perhaps,—not + the graceful Vernon, not the thoughtful scholar, nor his fair-haired, + hard-lipped son, not even the handsome listener she addressed,—no, + not one there would so have arrested the eye, whether of a physiognomist + or a casual observer, as that young girl, Sir Miles St. John’s favourite + niece and presumptive heiress. + </p> + <p> + But as at that moment the expression of her face differed from that + habitual to it, we defer its description. + </p> + <p> + “Do not,” such were her words to her companion,—“do not alarm + yourself by exaggerating the difficulties; do not even contemplate them: + those be my care. Mainwaring, when I loved you; when, seeing that your + diffidence or your pride forbade you to be the first to speak, I + overstepped the modesty or the dissimulation of my sex; when I said, + ‘Forget that I am the reputed heiress of Laughton, see in me but the + faults and merits of the human being, of the wild unregulated girl, see in + me but Lucretia Clavering’” (here her cheeks blushed, and her voice sank + into a lower and more tremulous whisper) “‘and love her if you can!’—when + I went thus far, do not think I had not measured all the difficulties in + the way of our union, and felt that I could surmount them.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” answered Mainwaring, hesitatingly, “can you conceive it possible + that your uncle ever will consent? Is not pride—the pride of family—almost + the leading attribute of his character? Did he not discard your mother—his + own sister—from his house and heart for no other offence but a + second marriage which he deemed beneath her? Has he ever even consented to + see, much less to receive, your half-sister, the child of that marriage? + Is not his very affection for you interwoven with his pride in you, with + his belief in your ambition? Has he not summoned your cousin, Mr. Vernon, + for the obvious purpose of favouring a suit which he considers worthy of + you, and which, if successful, will unite the two branches of his ancient + house? How is it possible that he can ever hear without a scorn and + indignation which would be fatal to your fortunes that your heart has + presumed to choose, in William Mainwaring, a man without ancestry or + career?” + </p> + <p> + “Not without career,” interrupted Lucretia, proudly. “Do you think if you + were master of Laughton that your career would not be more brilliant than + that of yon indolent, luxurious coxcomb? Do you think that I could have + been poor-hearted enough to love you if I had not recognized in you + energies and talents that correspond with my own ambition? For I am + ambitious, as you know, and therefore my mind, as well as my heart, went + with my love for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Lucretia, but can Sir Miles St. John see my future rise in my present + obscurity?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not say that he can, or will; but if you love me, we can wait. Do + not fear the rivalry of Mr. Vernon. I shall know how to free myself from + so tame a peril. We can wait,—my uncle is old; his habits preclude + the chance of a much longer life; he has already had severe attacks. We + are young, dear Mainwaring: what is a year or two to those who hope?” + Mainwaring’s face fell, and a displeasing chill passed through his veins. + Could this young creature, her uncle’s petted and trusted darling, she who + should be the soother of his infirmities, the prop of his age, the + sincerest mourner at his grave, weigh coldly thus the chances of his + death, and point at once to the altar and the tomb? + </p> + <p> + He was saved from the embarrassment of reply by Dalibard’s approach. + </p> + <p> + “More than half an hour absent,” said the scholar, in his own language, + with a smile; and drawing out his watch, he placed it before their eyes. + “Do you not think that all will miss you? Do you suppose, Miss Clavering, + that your uncle has not ere this asked for his fair niece? Come, and + forestall him.” He offered his arm to Lucretia as he spoke. She hesitated + a moment, and then, turning to Mainwaring, held out her hand. He pressed + it, though scarcely with a lover’s warmth; and as she walked back to the + terrace with Dalibard, the young man struck slowly into the opposite + direction, and passing by a gate over a foot-bridge that led from the + ha-ha into the park, bent his way towards a lake which gleamed below at + some distance, half-concealed by groves of venerable trees rich with the + prodigal boughs of summer. Meanwhile, as they passed towards the house, + Dalibard, still using his native tongue, thus accosted his pupil:— + </p> + <p> + “You must pardon me if I think more of your interests than you do; and + pardon me no less if I encroach on your secrets and alarm your pride. This + young man,—can you be guilty of the folly of more than a passing + caprice for his society, of more than the amusement of playing with his + vanity? Even if that be all, beware of entangling yourself in your own + meshes.” + </p> + <p> + “You do in truth offend me,” said Lucretia, with calm haughtiness, “and + you have not the right thus to speak to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Not the right,” repeated the Provencal, mournfully, “not the right! Then, + indeed, I am mistaken in my pupil. Do you consider that I would have + lowered my pride to remain here as a dependent; that, conscious of + attainments, and perhaps of abilities, that should win their way, even in + exile, to distinction, I would have frittered away my life in these rustic + shades,—if I had not formed in you a deep and absorbing interest? In + that interest I ground my right to warn and counsel you. I saw, or fancied + I saw, in you a mind congenial to my own; a mind above the frivolities of + your sex,—a mind, in short, with the grasp and energy of a man’s. + You were then but a child, you are scarcely yet a woman; yet have I not + given to your intellect the strong food on which the statesmen of Florence + fed their pupil-princes, or the noble Jesuits the noble men who were + destined to extend the secret empire of the imperishable Loyola?” + </p> + <p> + “You gave me the taste for a knowledge rare in my sex, I own,” answered + Lucretia, with a slight tone of regret in her voice: “and in the knowledge + you have communicated I felt a charm that at times seems to me to be only + fatal. You have confounded in my mind evil and good, or rather, you have + left both good and evil as dead ashes, as the dust and cinder of a + crucible. You have made intellect the only conscience. Of late, I wish + that my tutor had been a village priest!” + </p> + <p> + “Of late, since you have listened to the pastorals of that meek Corydon!” + </p> + <p> + “Dare you despise him? And for what? That he is good and honest?” + </p> + <p> + “I despise him, not because he is good and honest, but because he is of + the common herd of men, without aim or character. And it is for this youth + that you will sacrifice your fortunes, your ambition, the station you were + born to fill and have been reared to improve,—this youth in whom + there is nothing but the lap-dog’s merit, sleekness and beauty! Ay, frown,—the + frown betrays you; you love him!” + </p> + <p> + “And if I do?” said Lucretia, raising her tall form to its utmost height, + and haughtily facing her inquisitor,—“and, if I do, what then? Is he + unworthy of me? Converse with him, and you will find that the noble form + conceals as high a spirit. He wants but wealth: I can give it to him. If + his temper is gentle, I can prompt and guide it to fame and power. He at + least has education and eloquence and mind. What has Mr. Vernon?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Vernon? I did not speak of him!” + </p> + <p> + Lucretia gazed hard upon the Provencal’s countenance,—gazed with + that unpitying air of triumph with which a woman who detects a power over + the heart she does not desire to conquer exults in defeating the reasons + that heart appears to her to prompt. “No,” she said in a calm voice, to + which the venom of secret irony gave stinging significance,—“no, you + spoke not of Mr. Vernon; you thought that if I looked round, if I looked + nearer, I might have a fairer choice.” + </p> + <p> + “You are cruel, you are unjust,” said Dalibard, falteringly. “If I once + presumed for a moment, have I repeated my offence? But,” he added + hurriedly, “in me,—much as you appear to despise me,—in me, at + least, you would have risked none of the dangers that beset you if you + seriously set your heart on Mainwaring.” + </p> + <p> + “You think my uncle would be proud to give my hand to M. Olivier + Dalibard?” + </p> + <p> + “I think and I know,” answered the Provencal, gravely, and disregarding + the taunt, “that if you had deigned to render me—poor exile that I + am!—the most enviable of men, you had still been the heiress of + Laughton.” + </p> + <p> + “So you have said and urged,” said Lucretia, with evident curiosity in her + voice; “yet how, and by what art,—wise and subtle as you are,—could + you have won my uncle’s consent?” + </p> + <p> + “That is my secret,” returned Dalibard, gloomily; “and since the madness I + indulged is forever over; since I have so schooled my heart that nothing, + despite your sarcasm, save an affectionate interest which I may call + paternal rests there,—let us pass from this painful subject. Oh, my + dear pupil, be warned in time; know love for what it really is, in the + dark and complicated history of actual life,—a brief enchantment, + not to be disdained, but not to be considered the all-in all. Look round + the world; contemplate all those who have married from passion: ten years + afterwards, whither has the passion flown? With a few, indeed, where there + is community of object and character, new excitements, new aims and hopes, + spring up; and having first taken root in passion, the passion continues + to shoot out in their fresh stems and fibres. But deceive yourself not; + there is no such community between you and Mainwaring. What you call his + goodness, you will learn hereafter to despise as feeble; and what in + reality is your mental power he soon, too soon, will shudder at as + unwomanly and hateful.” + </p> + <p> + “Hold!” cried Lucretia, tremulously. “Hold! and if he does, I shall owe + his hate to you,—to your lessons; to your deadly influence!” + </p> + <p> + “Lucretia, no; the seeds were in you. Can cultivation force from the soil + that which it is against the nature of the soil to bear?” + </p> + <p> + “I will pluck out the weeds! I will transform myself!” + </p> + <p> + “Child, I defy you!” said the scholar, with a smile that gave to his face + the expression his son had conveyed to it. “I have warned you, and my task + is done.” With that he bowed, and leaving her, was soon by the side of Sir + Miles St. John; and the baronet and his librarian, a few moments after, + entered the house and sat down to chess. + </p> + <p> + But during the dialogues we have sketched, we must not suppose that Sir + Miles himself had been so wholly absorbed in the sensual gratification + bestowed upon Europe by the immortal Raleigh as to neglect his guest and + kinsman. + </p> + <p> + “And so, Charley Vernon, it is not the fashion to smoke in Lunnon.” Thus + Sir Miles pronounced the word, according to the Euphuism of his youth, and + which, even at that day, still lingered in courtly jargon. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. However, to console us, we have most other vices in full force.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t doubt it; they say the prince’s set exhaust life pretty quickly.” + </p> + <p> + “It certainly requires the fortune of an earl and the constitution of a + prize-fighter to live with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet methinks, Master Charley, you have neither the one nor the other.” + </p> + <p> + “And therefore I see before me, and at no very great distance, the Bench + and—a consumption!” answered Vernon, suppressing a slight yawn. + </p> + <p> + “‘T is a pity, for you had a fine estate, properly managed; and in spite + of your faults, you have the heart of a true gentleman. Come, come!” and + the old man spoke with tenderness, “you are young enough yet to reform. A + prudent marriage and a good wife will save both your health and your + acres.” + </p> + <p> + “If you think so highly of marriage, my dear Sir Miles, it is a wonder you + did not add to your precepts the value of your example.” + </p> + <p> + “Jackanapes! I had not your infirmities: I never was a spendthrift, and I + have a constitution of iron!” There was a pause. “Charles,” continued Sir + Miles, musingly, “there is many an earl with a less fortune than the + conjoined estates of Vernon Grange and Laughton Hall. You must already + have understood me: it is my intention to leave my estates to Lucretia; it + is my wish, nevertheless, to think you will not be the worse for my will. + Frankly, if you can like my niece, win her; settle here while I live, put + the Grange to nurse, and recruit yourself by fresh air and field-sports. + Zounds, Charles, I love you, and that’s the truth! Give me your hand!” + </p> + <p> + “And a grateful heart with it, sir,” said Vernon, warmly, evidently + affected, as he started from his indolent position and took the hand + extended to him. “Believe me, I do not covet your wealth, nor do I envy my + cousin anything so much as the first place in your regard.” + </p> + <p> + “Prettily said, my boy, and I don’t suspect you of insincerity. What think + you, then, of my plan?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Vernon seemed embarrassed; but recovering himself with his usual ease, + he replied archly: “Perhaps, sir, it will be of little use to know what I + think of your plan; my fair cousin may have upset it already.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha, sir! let me look at you. So, so! you are not jesting. What the deuce + do you mean? ‘Gad, man, speak out!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you not think that Mr. Monderling—Mandolin—what’s his + name, eh?—do you not think that he is a very handsome young fellow?” + said Mr. Vernon, drawing out his snuffbox and offering it to his kinsman. + </p> + <p> + “Damn your snuff,” quoth Sir Miles, in great choler, as he rejected the + proffered courtesy with a vehemence that sent half the contents of the box + upon the joint eyes and noses of the two canine favourites dozing at his + feet. The setter started up in an agony; the spaniel wheezed and sniffled + and ran off, stopping every moment to take his head between his paws. The + old gentleman continued without heeding the sufferings of his dumb + friends,—a symptom of rare discomposure on his part. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to insinuate, Mr. Vernon, that my niece—my elder niece, + Lucretia Clavering—condescends to notice the looks, good or bad, of + Mr. Mainwaring? ‘Sdeath, sir, he is the son of a land-agent! Sir, he is + intended for trade! Sir, his highest ambition is to be partner in some + fifth-rate mercantile house!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Sir Miles,” replied Mr. Vernon, as he continued to brush away, + with his scented handkerchief, such portions of the prince’s mixture as + his nankeen inexpressibles had diverted from the sensual organs of Dash + and Ponto—“my dear Sir Miles, ca n’empeche pas le sentiment!” + </p> + <p> + “Empeche the fiddlestick! You don’t know Lucretia. There are many girls, + indeed, who might not be trusted near any handsome flute-playing spark, + with black eyes and white teeth; but Lucretia is not one of those; she has + spirit and ambition that would never stoop to a mesalliance; she has the + mind and will of a queen,—old Queen Bess, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + “That is saying much for her talent, sir; but if so, Heaven help her + intended! I am duly grateful for the blessings you propose me!” + </p> + <p> + Despite his anger, the old gentleman could not help smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Why, to confess the truth, she is hard to manage; but we men of the world + know how to govern women, I hope,—much more how to break in a girl + scarce out of her teens. As for this fancy of yours, it is sheer folly: + Lucretia knows my mind. She has seen her mother’s fate; she has seen her + sister an exile from my house. Why? For no fault of hers, poor thing, but + because she is the child of disgrace, and the mother’s sin is visited on + her daughter’s head. I am a good-natured man, I fancy, as men go; but I am + old-fashioned enough to care for my race. If Lucretia demeaned herself to + love, to encourage, that lad, why, I would strike her from my will, and + put your name where I have placed hers.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said Vernon, gravely, and throwing aside all affectation of manner, + “this becomes serious; and I have no right even to whisper a doubt by + which it now seems I might benefit. I think it imprudent, if you wish Miss + Clavering to regard me impartially as a suitor to her hand, to throw her, + at her age, in the way of a man far superior to myself, and to most men, + in personal advantages,—a man more of her own years, well educated, + well mannered, with no evidence of his inferior birth in his appearance or + his breeding. I have not the least ground for supposing that he has made + the slightest impression on Miss Clavering, and if he has, it would be, + perhaps, but a girl’s innocent and thoughtless fancy, easily shaken off by + time and worldly reflection; but pardon me if I say bluntly that should + that be so, you would be wholly unjustified in punishing, even in blaming, + her,—it is yourself you must blame for your own carelessness and + that forgetful blindness to human nature and youthful emotions which, I + must say, is the less pardonable in one who has known the world so + intimately.” + </p> + <p> + “Charles Vernon,” said the old baronet, “give me your hand again! I was + right, at least, when I said you had the heart of a true gentleman. Drop + this subject for the present. Who has just left Lucretia yonder?” + </p> + <p> + “Your protege, the Frenchman.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, he, at least, is not blind; go and join Lucretia!” + </p> + <p> + Vernon bowed, emptied the remains of the Madeira into a tumbler, drank the + contents at a draught, and sauntered towards Lucretia; but she, perceiving + his approach, crossed abruptly into one of the alleys that led to the + other side of the house, and he was either too indifferent or too + well-bred to force upon her the companionship which she so evidently + shunned. He threw himself at length upon one of the benches on the lawn, + and leaning his head upon his hand, fell into reflections which, had he + spoken, would have shaped themselves somewhat thus into words:— + </p> + <p> + “If I must take that girl as the price of this fair heritage, shall I gain + or lose? I grant that she has the finest neck and shoulders I ever saw out + of marble; but far from being in love with her, she gives me a feeling + like fear and aversion. Add to this that she has evidently no kinder + sentiment for me than I for her; and if she once had a heart, that young + gentleman has long since coaxed it away. Pleasant auspices, these, for + matrimony to a poor invalid who wishes at least to decline and to die in + peace! Moreover, if I were rich enough to marry as I pleased; if I were + what, perhaps, I ought to be, heir to Laughton,—why, there is a + certain sweet Mary in the world, whose eyes are softer than Lucretia + Clavering’s. But that is a dream! On the other hand, if I do not win this + girl, and my poor kinsman give her all, or nearly all, his possessions, + Vernon Grange goes to the usurers, and the king will find a lodging for + myself. What does it matter? I cannot live above two or three years at the + most, and can only hope, therefore, that dear stout old Sir Miles may + outlive me. At thirty-three I have worn out fortune and life; little + pleasure could Laughton give me,—brief pain the Bench. ‘Fore Gad, + the philosophy of the thing is on the whole against sour looks and the + noose!” Thus deciding in the progress of his revery, he smiled, and + changed his position. The sun had set, the twilight was over, the moon + rose in splendour from amidst a thick copse of mingled beech and oak; the + beams fell full on the face of the muser, and the face seemed yet paler + and the exhaustion of premature decay yet more evident, by that still and + melancholy light: all ruins gain dignity by the moon. This was a ruin + nobler than that which painters place on their canvas,—the ruin, not + of stone and brick, but of humanity and spirit; the wreck of man + prematurely old, not stricken by great sorrow, not bowed by great toil, + but fretted and mined away by small pleasures and poor excitements,—small + and poor, but daily, hourly, momently at their gnome-like work. Something + of the gravity and the true lesson of the hour and scene, perhaps, forced + itself upon a mind little given to sentiment, for Vernon rose languidly + and muttered,— + </p> + <p> + “My poor mother hoped better things from me. It is well, after all, that + it is broken off with Mary. Why should there be any one to weep for me? I + can the better die smiling, as I have lived.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, as it is necessary we should follow each of the principal + characters we have introduced through the course of an evening more or + less eventful in the destiny of all, we return to Mainwaring and accompany + him to the lake at the bottom of the park, which he reached as its smooth + surface glistened in the last beams of the sun. He saw, as he neared the + water, the fish sporting in the pellucid tide; the dragonfly darted and + hovered in the air; the tedded grass beneath his feet gave forth the + fragrance of crushed thyme and clover; the swan paused, as if slumbering + on the wave; the linnet and finch sang still from the neighbouring copses; + and the heavy bees were winging their way home with a drowsy murmur. All + around were images of that unspeakable peace which Nature whispers to + those attuned to her music; all fitted to lull, but not to deject, the + spirit,—images dear to the holiday of the world-worn man, to the + contemplation of serene and retired age, to the boyhood of poets, to the + youth of lovers. But Mainwaring’s step was heavy, and his brow clouded, + and Nature that evening was dumb to him. At the margin of the lake stood a + solitary angler who now, his evening’s task done, was employed in + leisurely disjointing his rod and whistling with much sweetness an air + from one of Izaak Walton’s songs. Mainwaring reached the angler and laid + his hand on his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “What sport, Ardworth?” + </p> + <p> + “A few large roach with the fly, and one pike with a gudgeon,—a + noble fellow! Look at him! He was lying under the reeds yonder; I saw his + green back, and teased him into biting. A heavenly evening! I wonder you + did not follow my example, and escape from a set where neither you nor I + can feel very much at home, to this green banquet of Nature, in which at + least no man sits below the salt-cellar. The birds are an older family + than the St. Johns, but they don’t throw their pedigree in our teeth, + Mainwaring.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, nay, my good friend, you wrong old Sir Miles; proud he is, no doubt, + but neither you nor I have had to complain of his insolence.” + </p> + <p> + “Of his insolence, certainly not; of his condescension, yes! Hang it, + William, it is his very politeness that galls me. Don’t you observe that + with Vernon, or Lord A——, or Lord B——, or Mr. C——, + he is easy and off-hand; calls them by their names, pats them on the + shoulder, rates them, and swears at them if they vex him. But with you and + me and his French parasite, it is all stately decorum and punctilious + courtesy: ‘Mr. Mainwaring, I am delighted to see you;’ ‘Mr. Ardworth, as + you are so near, dare I ask you to ring the bell?’ ‘Monsieur Dalibard, + with the utmost deference, I venture to disagree with you.’ However, don’t + let my foolish susceptibility ruffle your pride. And you, too, have a + worthy object in view, which might well detain you from roach and + jack-fish. Have you stolen your interview with the superb Lucretia?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, stolen, as you say; and, like all thieves not thoroughly hardened, I + am ashamed of my gains.” + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, my boy,—this is a bank in ten thousand; there, that old + root to lean your elbow on, this soft moss for your cushion: sit down and + confess. You have something on your mind that preys on you; we are old + college friends,—out with it!” + </p> + <p> + “There is no resisting you, Ardworth,” said Mainwaring, smiling, and drawn + from his reserve and his gloom by the frank good-humour of his companion. + “I should like, I own, to make a clean breast of it; and perhaps I may + profit by your advice. You know, in the first place, that after I left + college, my father, seeing me indisposed for the Church, to which he had + always destined me in his own heart, and for which, indeed, he had gone + out of his way to maintain me at the University, gave me the choice of his + own business as a surveyor and land-agent, or of entering into the + mercantile profession. I chose the latter, and went to Southampton, where + we have a relation in business, to be initiated into the elementary + mysteries. There I became acquainted with a good clergyman and his wife, + and in that house I passed a great part of my time.” + </p> + <p> + “With the hope, I trust, on better consideration, of gratifying your + father’s ambition and learning how to starve with gentility on a cure.” + </p> + <p> + “Not much of that, I fear.” + </p> + <p> + “Then the clergyman had a daughter?” + </p> + <p> + “You are nearer the mark now,” said Mainwaring, colouring,—“though + it was not his daughter. A young lady lived in his family, not even + related to him; she was placed there with a certain allowance by a rich + relation. In a word, I admired, perhaps I loved, this young person; but + she was without an independence, and I not yet provided even with the + substitute of money,—a profession. I fancied (do not laugh at my + vanity) that my feelings might be returned. I was in alarm for her as well + as myself; I sounded the clergyman as to the chance of obtaining the + consent of her rich relation, and was informed that he thought it + hopeless. I felt I had no right to invite her to poverty and ruin, and + still less to entangle further (if I had chanced to touch at all) her + affection. I made an excuse to my father to leave the town, and returned + home.” + </p> + <p> + “Prudent and honourable enough, so far; unlike me,—I should have run + off with the girl, if she loved me, and old Plutus, the rascal, might have + done his worst against Cupid. But I interrupt you.” + </p> + <p> + “I came back when the county was greatly agitated,—public meetings, + speeches, mobs; a sharp election going on. My father had always taken keen + interest in politics; he was of the same party as Sir Miles, who, you + know, is red-hot upon politics. I was easily led—partly by ambition, + partly by the effect of example, partly by the hope to give a new turn to + my thoughts—to make an appearance in public.” + </p> + <p> + “And a devilish creditable one too! Why, man, your speeches have been + quoted with rapture by the London papers. Horribly aristocratic and + Pittish, it is true,—I think differently; but every man to his + taste. Well—” + </p> + <p> + “My attempts, such as they were, procured me the favour of Sir Miles. He + had long been acquainted with my father, who had helped him in his own + elections years ago. He seemed cordially delighted to patronize the son; + he invited me to visit him at Laughton, and hinted to my father that I was + formed for something better than a counting-house: my poor father was + intoxicated. In a word, here I am; here, often for days, almost weeks, + together, have I been a guest, always welcomed.” + </p> + <p> + “You pause. This is the primordium,—now comes the confession, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, one half the confession is over. It was my most unmerited fortune to + attract the notice of Miss Clavering. Do not fancy me so self-conceited as + to imagine that I should ever have presumed so high, but for—” + </p> + <p> + “But for encouragement,—I understand! Well, she is a magnificent + creature, in her way, and I do not wonder that she drove the poor little + girl at Southampton out of your thoughts.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! but there is the sore,—I am not sure that she has done so. + Ardworth, I may trust you?” + </p> + <p> + “With everything but half-a-guinea. I would not promise to be rock against + so great a temptation!” and Ardworth turned his empty pockets inside out. + </p> + <p> + “Tush! be serious, or I go.” + </p> + <p> + “Serious! With pockets like these, the devil’s in it if I am not serious. + Perge, precor.” + </p> + <p> + “Ardworth, then,” said Mainwaring, with great emotion, “I confide to you + the secret trouble of my heart. This girl at Southampton is Lucretia’s + sister,—her half-sister; the rich relation on whose allowance she + lives is Sir Miles St. John.” + </p> + <p> + “Whew! my own poor dear little cousin, by the father’s side! Mainwaring, I + trust you have not deceived me; you have not amused yourself with breaking + Susan’s heart? For a heart, and an honest, simple, English girl’s heart + she has.” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven forbid! I tell you I have never even declared my love; and if love + it were, I trust it is over. But when Sir Miles was first kind to me, + first invited me, I own I had the hope to win his esteem; and since he had + always made so strong and cruel a distinction between Lucretia and Susan, + I thought it not impossible that he might consent at last to my union with + the niece he had refused to receive and acknowledge. But even while the + hope was in me, I was drawn on, I was entangled, I was spell-bound, I know + not how or why; but, to close my confidence, while still doubtful whether + my own heart is free from the remembrance of the one sister, I am pledged + to the other.” + </p> + <p> + Ardworth looked down gravely and remained silent. He was a joyous, + careless, reckless youth, with unsteady character and pursuits, and with + something of vague poetry, much of unaccommodating pride about his nature,—one + of those youths little likely to do what is called well in the world; not + persevering enough for an independent career, too blunt and honest for a + servile one. But it was in the very disposition of such a person to judge + somewhat harshly of Mainwaring’s disclosure, and not easily to comprehend + what, after all, was very natural,—how a young man, new to life, + timid by character, and of an extreme susceptibility to the fear of giving + pain, had, in the surprise, the gratitude, the emotion, of an avowed + attachment from a girl far above him in worldly position, been forced, by + receiving, to seem, at least, to return her affection. And, indeed, though + not wholly insensible to the brilliant prospects opened to him in such a + connection, yet, to do him justice, Mainwaring would have been equally + entangled by a similar avowal from a girl more his equal in the world. It + was rather from an amiability bordering upon weakness, than from any more + degrading moral imperfections, that he had been betrayed into a position + which neither contented his heart nor satisfied his conscience. + </p> + <p> + With far less ability than his friend, Ardworth had more force and + steadiness in his nature, and was wholly free from that morbid delicacy of + temperament to which susceptible and shy persons owe much of their errors + and misfortunes. He said, therefore, after a long pause: “My good fellow, + to be plain with you, I cannot say that your confession has improved you + in my estimation; but that is perhaps because of the bluntness of my + understanding. I could quite comprehend your forgetting Susan (and, after + all, I am left in doubt as to the extent of her conquest over you) for the + very different charms of her sister. On the other hand, I could still + better understand that, having once fancied Susan, you could not be + commanded into love for Lucretia. But I do not comprehend your feeling + love for one, and making love to the other,—which is the long and + short of the business.” + </p> + <p> + “That is not exactly the true statement,” answered Mainwaring, with a + powerful effort at composure. “There are moments when, listening to + Lucretia, when, charmed by that softness which, contrasting the rest of + her character, she exhibits to none but me, struck by her great mental + powers, proud of an unsought triumph over such a being, I feel as if I + could love none but her; then suddenly her mood changes,—she utters + sentiments that chill and revolt me; the very beauty seems vanished from + her face. I recall with a sigh the simple sweetness of Susan, and I feel + as if I deceived both my mistress and myself. Perhaps, however, all the + circumstances of this connection tend to increase my doubts. It is + humiliating to me to know that I woo clandestinely and upon sufferance; + that I am stealing, as it were, into a fortune; that I am eating Sir + Miles’s bread, and yet counting upon his death; and this shame in myself + may make me unconsciously unjust to Lucretia. But it is useless to reprove + me for what is past; and though I at first imagined you could advise me + for the future, I now see, too clearly, that no advice could avail.” + </p> + <p> + “I grant that too; for all you require is to make up your mind to be + fairly off with the old love, or fairly on with the new. However, now you + have stated your case thus frankly, if you permit me, I will take + advantage of the strange chance of finding myself here, and watch, ponder, + and counsel, if I can. This Lucretia, I own it, puzzles and perplexes me; + but though no Oedipus, I will not take fright at the sphinx. I suppose now + it is time to return. They expect some of the neighbours to drink tea, and + I must doff my fishing-jacket. Come!” + </p> + <p> + As they strolled towards the house, Ardworth broke a silence which had + lasted for some moments. + </p> + <p> + “And how is that dear good Fielden? I ought to have guessed him at once, + when you spoke of your clergyman and his young charge; but I did not know + he was at Southampton.” + </p> + <p> + “He has exchanged his living for a year, on account of his wife’s health, + and rather, I think also, with the wish to bring poor Susan nearer to + Laughton, in the chance of her uncle seeing her. But you are, then, + acquainted with Fielden?” + </p> + <p> + “Acquainted!—my best friend. He was my tutor, and prepared me for + Caius College. I owe him, not only the little learning I have, but the + little good that is left in me. I owe to him apparently, also, whatever + chance of bettering my prospects may arise from my visit to Laughton.” + </p> + <p> + “Notwithstanding our intimacy, we have, like most young men not related, + spoken so little of our family matters that I do not now understand how + you are cousin to Susan, nor what, to my surprise and delight, brought you + hither three days ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, my story is easier to explain than your own, William. Here goes!” + </p> + <p> + But as Ardworth’s recital partially involves references to family matters + not yet sufficiently known to the reader, we must be pardoned if we assume + to ourselves his task of narrator, and necessarily enlarge on his details. + </p> + <p> + The branch of the illustrious family of St. John represented by Sir Miles, + diverged from the parent stem of the Lords of Bletshoe. With them it + placed at the summit of its pedigree the name of William de St. John, the + Conqueror’s favourite and trusted warrior, and Oliva de Filgiers. With + them it blazoned the latter alliance, which gave to Sir Oliver St. John + the lands of Bletshoe by the hand of Margaret Beauchamp (by her second + marriage with the Duke of Somerset), grandmother to Henry VII. In the + following generation, the younger son of a younger son had founded, partly + by offices of state, partly by marriage with a wealthy heiress, a house of + his own; and in the reign of James the First, the St. Johns of Laughton + ranked amongst the chief gentlemen of Hampshire. From that time till the + accession of George III the family, though it remained untitled, had added + to its consequence by intermarriages of considerable dignity,—chosen, + indeed, with a disregard for money uncommon amongst the English + aristocracy; so that the estate was but little enlarged since the reign of + James, though profiting, of course, by improved cultivation and the + different value of money. On the other hand, perhaps there were scarcely + ten families in the country who could boast of a similar directness of + descent on all sides from the proudest and noblest aristocracy of the + soil; and Sir Miles St. John, by blood, was, almost at the distance of + eight centuries, as pure a Norman as his ancestral William. His + grandfather, nevertheless, had deviated from the usual disinterested + practice of the family, and had married an heiress who brought the + quarterings of Vernon to the crowded escutcheon, and with these + quarterings an estate of some 4,000 pounds a year popularly known by the + name of Vernon Grange. This rare occurrence did not add to the domestic + happiness of the contracting parties, nor did it lead to the ultimate + increase of the Laughton possessions. Two sons were born. To the elder was + destined the father’s inheritance,—to the younger the maternal + property. One house is not large enough for two heirs. Nothing could + exceed the pride of the father as a St. John, except the pride of the + mother as a Vernon. Jealousies between the two sons began early and + rankled deep; nor was there peace at Laughton till the younger had carried + away from its rental the lands of Vernon Grange; and the elder remained + just where his predecessors stood in point of possessions,—sole lord + of Laughton sole. The elder son, Sir Miles’s father, had been, indeed, so + chafed by the rivalry with his brother that in disgust he had run away and + thrown himself, at the age of fourteen, into the navy. By accident or by + merit he rose high in that profession, acquired name and fame, and lost an + eye and an arm,—for which he was gazetted, at the same time, an + admiral and a baronet. + </p> + <p> + Thus mutilated and dignified, Sir George St. John retired from the + profession; and finding himself unmarried, and haunted by the apprehension + that if he died childless, Laughton would pass to his brother’s heirs, he + resolved upon consigning his remains to the nuptial couch, previous to the + surer peace of the family vault. At the age of fifty-nine, the grim + veteran succeeded in finding a young lady of unblemished descent and much + marked with the small-pox, who consented to accept the only hand which Sir + George had to offer. From this marriage sprang a numerous family; but all + died in early childhood, frightened to death, said the neighbours, by + their tender parents (considered the ugliest couple in the county), except + one boy (the present Sir Miles) and one daughter, many years younger, + destined to become Lucretia’s mother. Sir Miles came early into his + property; and although the softening advance of civilization, with the + liberal effects of travel and a long residence in cities, took from him + that provincial austerity of pride which is only seen in stanch perfection + amongst the lords of a village, he was yet little less susceptible to the + duties of maintaining his lineage pure as its representation had descended + to him than the most superb of his predecessors. But owing, it was said, + to an early disappointment, he led, during youth and manhood, a roving and + desultory life, and so put off from year to year the grand experiment + matrimonial, until he arrived at old age, with the philosophical + determination to select from the other branches of his house the successor + to the heritage of St. John. In thus arrogating to himself a right to + neglect his proper duties as head of a family, he found his excuse in + adopting his niece Lucretia. His sister had chosen for her first husband a + friend and neighbour of his own, a younger son, of unexceptionable birth + and of very agreeable manners in society. But this gentleman contrived to + render her life so miserable that, though he died fifteen months after + their marriage, his widow could scarcely be expected to mourn long for + him. A year after Mr. Clavering’s death, Mrs. Clavering married again, + under the mistaken notion that she had the right to choose for herself. + She married Dr. Mivers, the provincial physician who had attended her + husband in his last illness,—a gentleman by education, manners, and + profession, but unhappily the son of a silk-mercer. Sir Miles never + forgave this connection. By her first marriage, Sir Miles’s sister had one + daughter, Lucretia; by her second marriage, another daughter, named Susan. + She survived somewhat more than a year the birth of the latter. On her + death, Sir Miles formally (through his agent) applied to Dr. Mivers for + his eldest niece, Lucretia Clavering, and the physician did not think + himself justified in withholding from her the probable advantages of a + transfer from his own roof to that of her wealthy uncle. He himself had + been no worldly gainer by his connection; his practice had suffered + materially from the sympathy which was felt by the county families for the + supposed wrongs of Sir Miles St. John, who was personally not only + popular, but esteemed, nor less so on account of his pride,—too + dignified to refer even to his domestic annoyances, except to his most + familiar associates; to them, indeed, Sir Miles had said, briefly, that he + considered a physician who abused his entrance into a noble family by + stealing into its alliance was a character in whose punishment all society + had an interest. The words were repeated; they were thought just. Those + who ventured to suggest that Mrs. Clavering, as a widow, was a free agent, + were regarded with suspicion. It was the time when French principles were + just beginning to be held in horror, especially in the provinces, and when + everything that encroached upon the rights and prejudices of the high born + was called “a French principle.” Dr. Mivers was as much scouted as if he + had been a sans-culotte. Obliged to quit the county, he settled at a + distance; but he had a career to commence again; his wife’s death + enfeebled his spirits and damped his exertions. He did little more than + earn a bare subsistence, and died at last, when his only daughter was + fourteen, poor and embarrassed On his death-bed he wrote a letter to Sir + Miles reminding him that, after all, Susan was his sister’s child, gently + vindicating himself from the unmerited charge of treachery, which had + blasted his fortunes and left his orphan penniless, and closing with a + touching yet a manly appeal to the sole relative left to befriend her. The + clergyman who had attended him in his dying moments took charge of this + letter; he brought it in person to Laughton, and delivered it to Sir + Miles. Whatever his errors, the old baronet was no common man. He was not + vindictive, though he could not be called forgiving. He had considered his + conduct to his sister a duty owed to his name and ancestors; she had + placed herself and her youngest child out of the pale of his family. He + would not receive as his niece the grand-daughter of a silk-mercer. The + relationship was extinct, as, in certain countries, nobility is forfeited + by a union with an inferior class. But, niece or not, here was a claim to + humanity and benevolence, and never yet had appeal been made by suffering + to his heart and purse in vain. + </p> + <p> + He bowed his head over the letter as his eye came to the last line, and + remained silent so long that the clergyman at last, moved and hopeful, + approached and took his hand. It was the impulse of a good man and a good + priest. Sir Miles looked up in surprise; but the calm, pitying face bent + on him repelled all return of pride. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” he said tremulously, and he pressed the hand that grasped his own, + “I thank you. I am not fit at this moment to decide what to do; to-morrow + you shall know. And the man died poor,—not in want, not in want?” + </p> + <p> + “Comfort yourself, worthy sir; he had at the last all that sickness and + death require, except one assurance, which I ventured to whisper to him,—I + trust not too rashly,—that his daughter would not be left + unprotected. And I pray you to reflect, my dear sir, that—” + </p> + <p> + Sir Miles did not wait for the conclusion of the sentence; he rose + abruptly, and left the room. Mr. Fielden (so the good priest was named) + felt confident of the success of his mission; but to win it the more + support, he sought Lucretia. She was then seventeen: it is an age when the + heart is peculiarly open to the household ties,—to the memory of a + mother, to the sweet name of sister. He sought this girl, he told his + tale, and pleaded the sister’s cause. Lucretia heard in silence: neither + eye nor lip betrayed emotion; but her colour went and came. This was the + only sign that she was moved: moved, but how? Fielden’s experience in the + human heart could not guess. When he had done, she went quietly to her + desk (it was in her own room that the conference took place), she unlocked + it with a deliberate hand, she took from it a pocketbook and a case of + jewels which Sir Miles had given her on her last birthday. “Let my sister + have these; while I live she shall not want!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear young lady, it is not these things that she asks from you,—it + is your affection, your sisterly heart, your intercession with her natural + protector; these, in her name, I ask for,—‘non gemmis, neque purpura + venale, nec auro!’” + </p> + <p> + Lucretia then, still without apparent emotion, raised to the good man’s + face deep, penetrating, but unrevealing eyes, and said slowly,— + </p> + <p> + “Is my sister like my mother, who, they say, was handsome?” + </p> + <p> + Much startled by this question, Fielden answered: “I never saw your + mother, my dear; but your sister gives promise of more than common + comeliness.” + </p> + <p> + Lucretia’s brows grew slightly compressed. “And her education has been, of + course, neglected?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, in some points,—mathematics, for instance, and theology; + but she knows what ladies generally know,—French and Italian, and + such like. Dr. Mivers was not unlearned in the polite letters. Oh, trust + me, my dear young lady, she will not disgrace your family; she will + justify your uncle’s favour. Plead for her!” And the good man clasped his + hands. + </p> + <p> + Lucretia’s eyes fell musingly on the ground; but she resumed, after a + short pause,— + </p> + <p> + “What does my uncle himself say?” + </p> + <p> + “Only that he will decide to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “I will see him;” and Lucretia left the room as for that object. But when + she had gained the stairs, she paused at the large embayed casement, which + formed a niche in the landing-place, and gazed over the broad domains + beyond; a stern smile settled, then, upon her lips,—the smile seemed + to say, “In this inheritance I will have no rival.” + </p> + <p> + Lucretia’s influence with Sir Miles was great, but here it was not needed. + Before she saw him he had decided on his course. Her precocious and + apparently intuitive knowledge of character detected at a glance the + safety with which she might intercede. She did so, and was chid into + silence. + </p> + <p> + The next morning, Sir Miles took the priest’s arm and walked with him into + the gardens. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Fielden,” he said, with the air of a man who has chosen his course, + and deprecates all attempt to make him swerve from it, “if I followed my + own selfish wishes, I should take home this poor child. Stay, sir, and + hear me,—I am no hypocrite, and I speak honestly. I like young + faces; I have no family of my own. I love Lucretia, and I am proud of her; + but a girl brought up in adversity might be a better nurse and a more + docile companion,—let that pass. I have reflected, and I feel that I + cannot set to Lucretia—set to children unborn—the example of + indifference to a name degraded and a race adulterated; you may call this + pride or prejudice,—I view it differently. There are duties due from + an individual, duties due from a nation, duties due from a family; as my + ancestors thought, so think I. They left me the charge of their name, as + the fief-rent by which I hold their lands. ‘Sdeath, sir!—Pardon me + the expletive; I was about to say that if I am now a childless old man, it + is because I have myself known temptation and resisted. I loved, and + denied myself what I believed my best chance of happiness, because the + object of my attachment was not my equal. That was a bitter struggle,—I + triumphed, and I rejoice at it, though the result was to leave all + thoughts of wedlock elsewhere odious and repugnant. These principles of + action have made a part of my creed as gentleman, if not as Christian. Now + to the point. I beseech you to find a fitting and reputable home for Miss—Miss + Mivers,” the lip slightly curled as the name was said; “I shall provide + suitably for her maintenance. When she marries, I will dower her, provided + only and always that her choice fall upon one who will not still further + degrade her lineage on her mother’s side,—in a word, if she select a + gentleman. Mr. Fielden, on this subject I have no more to say.” + </p> + <p> + In vain the good clergyman, whose very conscience, as well as reason, was + shocked by the deliberate and argumentative manner with which the baronet + had treated the abandonment of his sister’s child as an absolutely moral, + almost religious, duty,—in vain he exerted himself to repel such + sophisms and put the matter in its true light. It was easy for him to move + Sir Miles’s heart,—that was ever gentle; that was moved already: but + the crotchet in his head was impregnable. The more touchingly he painted + poor Susan’s unfriended youth, her sweet character, and promising virtues, + the more Sir Miles St. John considered himself a martyr to his principles, + and the more obstinate in the martyrdom he became. “Poor thing! poor + child!” he said often, and brushed a tear from his eyes; “a thousand + pities! Well, well, I hope she will be happy! Mind, money shall never + stand in the way if she have a suitable offer!” + </p> + <p> + This was all the worthy clergyman, after an hour’s eloquence, could + extract from him. Out of breath and out of patience, he gave in at last; + and the baronet, still holding his reluctant arm, led him back towards the + house. After a prolonged pause, Sir Miles said abruptly: “I have been + thinking that I may have unwittingly injured this man,—this Mivers,—while + I deemed only that he injured me. As to reparation to his daughter, that + is settled; and after all, though I do not publicly acknowledge her, she + is half my own niece.” + </p> + <p> + “Half?” + </p> + <p> + “Half,—the father’s side doesn’t count, of course; and, rigidly + speaking, the relationship is perhaps forfeited on the other. However, + that half of it I grant. Zooks, sir, I say I grant it! I beg you ten + thousand pardons for my vehemence. To return,—perhaps I can show at + least that I bear no malice to this poor doctor. He has relations of his + own,—silk mercers; trade has reverses. How are they off?” + </p> + <p> + Perfectly perplexed by this very contradictory and paradoxical, yet, to + one better acquainted with Sir Miles, very characteristic, benevolence, + Fielden was some time before he answered. “Those members of Dr. Mivers’s + family who are in trade are sufficiently prosperous; they have paid his + debts,—they, Sir Miles, will receive his daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “By no means!” cried Sir Miles, quickly; then, recovering himself, he + added, “or, if you think that advisable, of course all interference on my + part is withdrawn.” + </p> + <p> + “Festina lente!—not so quick, Sir Miles. I do not yet say that it is + advisable,—not because they are silk-mercers, the which, I humbly + conceive, is no sin to exclude them from gratitude for their proffered + kindness, but because Susan, poor child, having been brought up in + different habits, may feel a little strange, at least at first, with—” + </p> + <p> + “Strange, yes; I should hope so!” interrupted Sir Miles, taking snuff with + much energy. “And, by the way, I am thinking that it would be well if you + and Mrs. Fielden—you are married, sir? That is right; clergymen all + marry!—if you and Mrs. Fielden would take charge of her yourselves, + it would be a great comfort to me to think her so well placed. We differ, + sir, but I respect you. Think of this. Well, then, the doctor has left no + relations that I can aid in any way?” + </p> + <p> + “Strange man!” muttered Fielden. “Yes; I must not let one poor youth lose + the opportunity offered by your—your—” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind what; proceed. One poor youth,—in the shop, of course?” + </p> + <p> + “No; and by his father’s side (since you so esteem such vanities) of an + ancient family,—a sister of Dr. Mivers married Captain Ardworth.” + </p> + <p> + “Ardworth,—a goodish name; Ardworth of Yorkshire?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of that family. It was, of course, an imprudent marriage, contracted + while he was only an ensign. His family did not reject him, Sir Miles.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir, Ardworth is a good squire’s family, but the name is Saxon; there is + no difference in race between the head of the Ardworths, if he were a + duke, and my gardener, John Hodge,—Saxon and Saxon, both. His family + did not reject him; go on.” + </p> + <p> + “But he was a younger son in a large family; both himself and his wife + have known all the distresses common, they tell me, to the poverty of a + soldier who has no resource but his pay. They have a son. Dr. Mivers, + though so poor himself, took this boy, for he loved his sister dearly, and + meant to bring him up to his own profession. Death frustrated this + intention. The boy is high-spirited and deserving.” + </p> + <p> + “Let his education be completed; send him to the University; and I will + see that he is put into some career of which his father’s family would + approve. You need not mention to any one my intentions in this respect, + not even to the lad. And now, Mr. Fielden, I have done my duty,—at + least, I think so. The longer you honour my house, the more I shall be + pleased and grateful; but this topic, allow me most respectfully to say, + needs and bears no further comment. Have you seen the last news from the + army?” + </p> + <p> + “The army! Oh, fie, Sir Miles, I must speak one word more. May not my poor + Susan have at least the comfort to embrace her sister?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Miles paused a moment, and struck his crutch-stick thrice firmly on + the ground. + </p> + <p> + “I see no great objection to that; but by the address of this letter, the + poor girl is too far from Laughton to send Lucretia to her.” + </p> + <p> + “I can obviate that objection, Sir Miles. It is my wish to continue to + Susan her present home amongst my own children. My wife loves her dearly; + and had you consented to give her the shelter of your own roof, I am sure + I should not have seen a smile in the house for a month after. If you + permit this plan, as indeed you honoured me by suggesting it, I can pass + through Southampton on my way to my own living in Devonshire, and Miss + Clavering can visit her sister there.” + </p> + <p> + “Let it be so,” said Sir Miles, briefly; and so the conversation closed. + </p> + <p> + Some weeks afterwards, Lucretia went in her uncle’s carriage, with four + post-horses, with her maid and her footman,—went in the state and + pomp of heiress to Laughton,—to the small lodging-house in which the + kind pastor crowded his children and his young guest. She stayed there + some days. She did not weep when she embraced Susan, she did not weep when + she took leave of her; but she showed no want of actual kindness, though + the kindness was formal and stately. On her return, Sir Miles forbore to + question; but he looked as if he expected, and would willingly permit, her + to speak on what might naturally be uppermost at her heart. Lucretia, + however, remained silent, till at last the baronet, colouring, as if + ashamed of his curiosity, said,— + </p> + <p> + “Is your sister like your mother?” + </p> + <p> + “You forget, sir, I can have no recollection of my mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Your mother had a strong family likeness to myself.” + </p> + <p> + “She is not like you; they say she is like Dr. Mivers.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said the baronet, and he asked no more. + </p> + <p> + The sisters did not meet again; a few letters passed between them, but the + correspondence gradually ceased. + </p> + <p> + Young Ardworth went to college, prepared by Mr. Fielden, who was no + ordinary scholar, and an accurate and profound mathematician,—a more + important requisite than classical learning in a tutor for Cambridge. But + Ardworth was idle, and perhaps even dissipated. He took a common degree, + and made some debts, which were paid by Sir Miles without a murmur. A few + letters then passed between the baronet and the clergyman as to Ardworth’s + future destiny; the latter owned that his pupil was not persevering enough + for the Bar, nor steady enough for the Church. These were no great faults + in Sir Miles’s eyes. He resolved, after an effort, to judge himself of the + capacities of the young man, and so came the invitation to Laughton. + Ardworth was greatly surprised when Fielden communicated to him this + invitation, for hitherto he had not conceived the slightest suspicion of + his benefactor; he had rather, and naturally, supposed that some relation + of his father’s had paid for his maintenance at the University, and he + knew enough of the family history to look upon Sir Miles as the proudest + of men. How was it, then, that he, who would not receive the daughter of + Dr. Mivers, his own niece, would invite the nephew of Dr. Mivers, who was + no relation to him? However, his curiosity was excited, and Fielden was + urgent that he should go; to Laughton, therefore, had he gone. + </p> + <p> + We have now brought down to the opening of our narrative the general + records of the family it concerns; we have reserved our account of the + rearing and the character of the personage most important, perhaps, in the + development of its events,—Lucretia Clavering,—in order to + place singly before the reader the portrait of her dark, misguided, and + ill-boding youth. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. LUCRETIA. + </h2> + <p> + When Lucretia first came to the house of Sir Miles St. John she was an + infant about four years old. The baronet then lived principally in London, + with occasional visits rather to the Continent or a watering-place than to + his own family mansion. He did not pay any minute attention to his little + ward, satisfied that her nurse was sedulous, and her nursery airy and + commodious. When, at the age of seven, she began to interest him, and he + himself, approaching old age, began seriously to consider whether he + should select her as his heiress, for hitherto he had not formed any + decided or definite notions on the matter, he was startled by a temper so + vehement, so self-willed and sternly imperious, so obstinately bent upon + attaining its object, so indifferently contemptuous of warning, reproof, + coaxing, or punishment, that her governess honestly came to him in + despair. + </p> + <p> + The management of this unmanageable child interested Sir Miles. It caused + him to think of Lucretia seriously; it caused him to have her much in his + society, and always in his thoughts. The result was, that by amusing and + occupying him, she forced a stronger hold on his affections than she might + have done had she been more like the ordinary run of commonplace children. + Of all dogs, there is no dog that so attaches a master as a dog that + snarls at everybody else,—that no other hand can venture to pat with + impunity; of all horses, there is none which so flatters the rider, from + Alexander downwards, as a horse that nobody else can ride. Extend this + principle to the human species, and you may understand why Lucretia became + so dear to Sir Miles St. John,—she got at his heart through his + vanity. For though, at times, her brow darkened and her eye flashed even + at his remonstrance, she was yet no sooner in his society than she made a + marked distinction between him and the subordinates who had hitherto + sought to control her. Was this affection? He thought so. Alas! what + parent can trace the workings of a child’s mind,—springs moved by an + idle word from a nurse; a whispered conference between hirelings. Was it + possible that Lucretia had not often been menaced, as the direst evil that + could befall her, with her uncle’s displeasure; that long before she could + be sensible of mere worldly loss or profit, she was not impressed with a + vague sense of Sir Miles’s power over her fate,—nay, when trampling, + in childish wrath and scorn, upon some menial’s irritable feelings, was it + possible that she had not been told that, but for Sir Miles, she would be + little better than a servant herself? Be this as it may, all weakness is + prone to dissimulate; and rare and happy is the child whose feelings are + as pure and transparent as the fond parent deems them. There is something + in children, too, which seems like an instinctive deference to the + aristocratic appearances which sway the world. Sir Miles’s stately person, + his imposing dress, the respect with which he was surrounded, all tended + to beget notions of superiority and power, to which it was no shame to + succumb, as it was to Miss Black, the governess, whom the maids answered + pertly, or Martha, the nurse, whom Miss Black snubbed if Lucretia tore her + frock. + </p> + <p> + Sir Miles’s affection once won, his penetration not, perhaps, blinded to + her more evident faults, but his self-love soothed towards regarding them + leniently, there was much in Lucretia’s external gifts which justified the + predilection of the haughty man. As a child she was beautiful, and, + perhaps from her very imperfections of temper, her beauty had that air of + distinction which the love of command is apt to confer. If Sir Miles was + with his friends when Lucretia swept into the room, he was pleased to hear + them call her their little “princess,” and was pleased yet more at a + certain dignified tranquillity with which she received their caresses or + their toys, and which he regarded as the sign of a superior mind; nor was + it long, indeed, before what we call “a superior mind” developed itself in + the young Lucretia. All children are quick till they are set methodically + to study; but Lucretia’s quickness defied even that numbing ordeal, by + which half of us are rendered dunces. Rapidity and precision in all the + tasks set to her, in the comprehension of all the explanations given to + her questions, evinced singular powers of readiness and reasoning. + </p> + <p> + As she grew older, she became more reserved and thoughtful. Seeing but few + children of her own age, and mixing intimately with none, her mind was + debarred from the usual objects which distract the vivacity, the restless + and wondrous observation, of childhood. She came in and out of Sir Miles’s + library of a morning, or his drawing-room of an evening, till her hour for + rest, with unquestioned and sometimes unnoticed freedom; she listened to + the conversation around her, and formed her own conclusions unchecked. It + has a great influence upon a child, whether for good or for evil, to mix + early and habitually with those grown up,—for good to the mere + intellect always; the evil depends upon the character and discretion of + those the child sees and hears. “Reverence the greatest is due to the + children,” exclaims the wisest of the Romans [Cicero. The sentiment is + borrowed by Juvenal.],—that is to say, that we must revere the + candour and inexperience and innocence of their minds. + </p> + <p> + Now, Sir Miles’s habitual associates were persons of the world,—well-bred + and decorous, indeed, before children, as the best of the old school were, + avoiding all anecdotes; all allusions, for which the prudent matron would + send her girls out of the room; but with that reserve speaking of the + world as the world goes: if talking of young A——, calculating + carelessly what he would have when old A——, his father, died; + naturally giving to wealth and station and ability their fixed importance + in life; not over-apt to single out for eulogium some quiet goodness; + rather inclined to speak with irony of pretensions to virtue; rarely + speaking but with respect of the worldly seemings which rule mankind. All + these had their inevitable effect upon that keen, quick, yet moody and + reflective intellect. + </p> + <p> + Sir Miles removed at last to Laughton. He gave up London,—why, he + acknowledged not to himself; but it was because he had outlived his age. + Most of his old set were gone; new hours, new habits, had stolen in. He + had ceased to be of importance as a marrying man, as a personage of + fashion; his health was impaired; he shrank from the fatigues of a + contested election; he resigned his seat in parliament for his native + county; and once settled at Laughton, the life there soothed and flattered + him,—there all his former claims to distinction were still fresh. He + amused himself by collecting, in his old halls and chambers, his statues + and pictures, and felt that, without fatigue or trouble, he was a greater + man at Laughton in his old age than he had been in London during his + youth. + </p> + <p> + Lucretia was then thirteen. Three years afterwards, Olivier Dalibard was + established in the house; and from that time a great change became + noticeable in her. The irregular vehemence of her temper gradually + subsided, and was replaced by an habitual self-command which rendered the + rare deviations from it more effective and imposing. Her pride changed its + character wholly and permanently; no word, no look of scorn to the + low-born and the poor escaped her. The masculine studies which her erudite + tutor opened to a grasping and inquisitive mind, elevated her very errors + above the petty distinctions of class. She imbibed earnestly what Dalibard + assumed or felt,—the more dangerous pride of the fallen angel,—and + set up the intellect as a deity. All belonging to the mere study of mind + charmed and enchained her; but active and practical in her very reveries, + if she brooded, it was to scheme, to plot, to weave, web, and mesh, and to + smile in haughty triumph at her own ingenuity and daring. The first lesson + of mere worldly wisdom teaches us to command temper; it was worldly wisdom + that made the once impetuous girl calm, tranquil, and serene. Sir Miles + was pleased by a change that removed from Lucretia’s outward character its + chief blot,—perhaps, as his frame declined, he sighed sometimes to + think that with so much majesty there appeared but little tenderness; he + took, however, the merits with the faults, and was content upon the whole. + </p> + <p> + If the Provencal had taken more than common pains with his young pupil, + the pains were not solely disinterested. In plunging her mind amidst that + profound corruption which belongs only to intellect cultivated in scorn of + good and in suppression of heart, he had his own views to serve. He + watched the age when the passions ripen, and he grasped at the fruit which + his training sought to mature. In the human heart ill regulated there is a + dark desire for the forbidden. This Lucretia felt; this her studies + cherished, and her thoughts brooded over. She detected, with the quickness + of her sex, the preceptor’s stealthy aim. She started not at the danger. + Proud of her mastery over herself, she rather triumphed in luring on into + weakness this master-intelligence which had lighted up her own,—to + see her slave in her teacher; to despise or to pity him whom she had first + contemplated with awe. And with this mere pride of the understanding might + be connected that of the sex; she had attained the years when woman is + curious to know and to sound her power. To inflame Dalibard’s cupidity or + ambition was easy; but to touch his heart,—that marble heart!—this + had its dignity and its charm. Strange to say, she succeeded; the passion, + as well as interests, of this dangerous and able man became enlisted in + his hopes. And now the game played between them had a terror in its + suspense; for if Dalibard penetrated not into the recesses of his pupil’s + complicated nature, she was far from having yet sounded the hell that lay, + black and devouring, beneath his own. Not through her affections,—those + he scarce hoped for,—but through her inexperience, her vanity, her + passions, he contemplated the path to his victory over her soul and her + fate. And so resolute, so wily, so unscrupulous was this person, who had + played upon all the subtlest keys and chords in the scale of turbulent + life, that, despite the lofty smile with which Lucretia at length heard + and repelled his suit, he had no fear of the ultimate issue, when all his + projects were traversed, all his mines and stratagems abruptly brought to + a close, by an event which he had wholly unforeseen,—the appearance + of a rival; the ardent and almost purifying love, which, escaping a while + from all the demons he had evoked, she had, with a girl’s frank heart and + impulse, conceived for Mainwaring. And here, indeed, was the great crisis + in Lucretia’s life and destiny. So interwoven with her nature had become + the hard calculations of the understanding; so habitual to her now was the + zest for scheming, which revels in the play and vivacity of intrigue and + plot, and which Shakspeare has perhaps intended chiefly to depict in the + villany of Iago,—that it is probable Lucretia could never become a + character thoroughly amiable and honest. But with a happy and well-placed + love, her ambition might have had legitimate vents; her restless energies, + the woman’s natural field in sympathies for another. The heart, once + opened, softens by use; gradually and unconsciously the interchange of + affection, the companionship with an upright and ingenuous mind (for + virtue is not only beautiful, it is contagious), might have had their + redeeming and hallowing influence. Happier, indeed, had it been, if her + choice had fallen upon a more commanding and lofty nature! But perhaps it + was the very meekness and susceptibility of Mainwaring’s temper, relieved + from feebleness by his talents, which, once in play, were undeniably + great, that pleased her by contrast with her own hardness of spirit and + despotism of will. + </p> + <p> + That Sir Miles should have been blind to the position of the lovers is + less disparaging to his penetration than it may appear; for the very + imprudence with which Lucretia abandoned herself to the society of + Mainwaring during his visits at Laughton took a resemblance to candour. + Sir Miles knew his niece to be more than commonly clever and well + informed; that she, like him, should feel that the conversation of a + superior young man was a relief to the ordinary babble of their country + neighbours, was natural enough; and if now and then a doubt, a fear, had + crossed his mind and rendered him more touched than he liked to own by + Vernon’s remarks, it had vanished upon perceiving that Lucretia never + seemed a shade more pensive in Mainwaring’s absence. The listlessness and + the melancholy which are apt to accompany love, especially where + unpropitiously placed, were not visible on the surface of this strong + nature. In truth, once assured that Mainwaring returned her affection, + Lucretia reposed on the future with a calm and resolute confidence; and + her customary dissimulation closed like an unruffled sea over all the + undercurrents that met and played below. Still, Sir Miles’s attention + once, however slightly, aroused to the recollection that Lucretia was at + the age when woman naturally meditates upon love and marriage, had + suggested, afresh and more vividly, a project which had before been + indistinctly conceived,—namely, the union of the divided branches of + his house, by the marriage of the last male of the Vernons with the + heiress of the St. Johns. Sir Miles had seen much of Vernon himself at + various intervals; he had been present at his christening, though he had + refused to be his godfather, for fear of raising undue expectations; he + had visited and munificently “tipped” him at Eton; he had accompanied him + to his quarters when he joined the prince’s regiment; he had come often in + contact with him when, at the death of his father, Vernon retired from the + army and blazed in the front ranks of metropolitan fashion; he had given + him counsel and had even lent him money. Vernon’s spendthrift habits and + dissipated if not dissolute life had certainly confirmed the old baronet + in his intentions to trust the lands of Laughton to the lesser risk which + property incurs in the hands of a female, if tightly settled on her, than + in the more colossal and multiform luxuries of an expensive man; and to do + him justice, during the flush of Vernon’s riotous career he had shrunk + from the thought of confiding the happiness of his niece to so unstable a + partner. But of late, whether from his impaired health or his broken + fortunes, Vernon’s follies had been less glaring. He had now arrived at + the mature age of thirty-three, when wild oats may reasonably be sown. The + composed and steadfast character of Lucretia might serve to guide and + direct him; and Sir Miles was one of those who hold the doctrine that a + reformed rake makes the best husband. Add to this, there was nothing in + Vernon’s reputation—once allowing that his thirst for pleasure was + slaked—which could excite serious apprehensions. Through all his + difficulties, he had maintained his honour unblemished; a thousand traits + of amiability and kindness of heart made him popular and beloved. He was + nobody’s enemy but his own. His very distresses—the prospect of his + ruin, if left unassisted by Sir Miles’s testamentary dispositions—were + arguments in his favour. And, after all, though Lucretia was a nearer + relation, Vernon was in truth the direct male heir, and according to the + usual prejudices of family, therefore, the fitter representative of the + ancient line. With these feelings and views, he had invited Vernon to his + house, and we have seen already that his favourable impressions had been + confirmed by the visit. + </p> + <p> + And here we must say that Vernon himself had been brought up in boyhood + and youth to regard himself the presumptive inheritor of Laughton. It had + been, from time immemorial, the custom of the St. Johns to pass by the + claims of females in the settlement of the entails; from male to male the + estate had gone, furnishing warriors to the army, and senators to the + State. And if when Lucretia first came to Sir Miles’s house the bright + prospect seemed somewhat obscure, still the mesalliance of the mother, and + Sir Miles’s obstinate resentment thereat, seemed to warrant the + supposition that he would probably only leave to the orphan the usual + portion of a daughter of the house, and that the lands would go in their + ordinary destination. This belief, adopted passively, and as a thing of + course, had had a very prejudicial effect upon Vernon’s career. What + mattered that he overenjoyed his youth, that the subordinate property of + the Vernons, a paltry four or five thousand pounds a year, went a little + too fast,—the splendid estates of Laughton would recover all. From + this dream he had only been awakened, two or three years before, by an + attachment he had formed to the portionless daughter of an earl; and the + Grange being too far encumbered to allow him the proper settlements which + the lady’s family required, it became a matter of importance to ascertain + Sir Miles’s intentions. Too delicate himself to sound them, he had + prevailed upon the earl, who was well acquainted with Sir Miles, to take + Laughton in his way to his own seat in Dorsetshire, and, without betraying + the grounds of his interest in the question, learn carelessly, as it were, + the views of the wealthy man. The result had been a severe and terrible + disappointment. Sir Miles had then fully determined upon constituting + Lucretia his heiress; and with the usual openness of his character, he had + plainly said so upon the very first covert and polished allusion to the + subject which the earl slyly made. This discovery, in breaking off all + hopes of a union with Lady Mary Stanville, had crushed more than mercenary + expectations. It affected, through his heart, Vernon’s health and spirits; + it rankled deep, and was resented at first as a fatal injury. But Vernon’s + native nobility of disposition gradually softened an indignation which his + reason convinced him was groundless and unjust. Sir Miles had never + encouraged the expectations which Vernon’s family and himself had + unthinkingly formed. The baronet was master of his own fortune, and after + all, was it not more natural that he should prefer the child he had + brought up and reared, to a distant relation, little more than an + acquaintance, simply because man succeeded to man in the mouldy pedigree + of the St. Johns? And, Mary fairly lost to him, his constitutional + indifference to money, a certain French levity of temper, a persuasion + that his life was nearing its wasted close, had left him without regret, + as without resentment, at his kinsman’s decision. His boyish affection for + the hearty, generous old gentleman returned, and though he abhorred the + country, he had, without a single interested thought or calculation, + cordially accepted the baronet’s hospitable overtures, and deserted, for + the wilds of Hampshire, “the sweet shady side of Pall-Mall.” + </p> + <p> + We may now enter the drawing-room at Laughton, in which were already + assembled several of the families residing in the more immediate + neighbourhood, and who sociably dropped in to chat around the national + tea-table, play a rubber at whist, or make up, by the help of two or three + children and two or three grandpapas, a merry country-dance; for in that + happy day people were much more sociable than they are now in the houses + of our rural Thanes. Our country seats became bustling and animated after + the Birthday; many even of the more important families resided, indeed, + all the year round on their estates. The Continent was closed to us; the + fastidious exclusiveness which comes from habitual residence in cities had + not made that demarcation, in castes and in talk, between neighbour and + neighbour, which exists now. Our squires were less educated, less refined, + but more hospitable and unassuming. In a word, there was what does not + exist now, except in some districts remote from London,—a rural + society for those who sought it. + </p> + <p> + The party, as we enter, is grouped somewhat thus. But first we must cast a + glance at the room itself, which rarely failed to be the first object to + attract a stranger’s notice. It was a long, and not particularly + well-proportioned apartment,—according, at least, to modern notions,—for + it had rather the appearance of two rooms thrown into one. At the distance + of about thirty-five feet, the walls, before somewhat narrow, were met by + an arch, supported by carved pilasters, which opened into a space nearly + double the width of the previous part of the room, with a domed ceiling + and an embayed window of such depth that the recess almost formed a + chamber in itself. But both these divisions of the apartment corresponded + exactly in point of decoration,—they had the same small panelling, + painted a very light green, which seemed almost white by candlelight, each + compartment wrought with an arabesque; the same enriched frieze and + cornice; they had the same high mantelpieces, ascending to the ceiling, + with the arms of St. John in bold relief. They had, too, the same + old-fashioned and venerable furniture, draperies of thick figured velvet, + with immense chairs and sofas to correspond,—interspersed, it is + true, with more modern and commodious inventions of the upholsterer’s art, + in grave stuffed leather or lively chintz. Two windows, nearly as deep as + that in the farther division, broke the outline of the former one, and + helped to give that irregular and nooky appearance to the apartment which + took all discomfort from its extent, and furnished all convenience for + solitary study or detached flirtation. With little respect for the carved + work of the panels, the walls were covered with pictures brought by Sir + Miles from Italy; here and there marble busts and statues gave lightness + to the character of the room, and harmonized well with that half-Italian + mode of decoration which belongs to the period of James the First. The + shape of the chamber, in its divisions, lent itself admirably to that + friendly and sociable intermixture of amusements which reconciles the + tastes of young and old. In the first division, near the fireplace, Sir + Miles, seated in his easy-chair, and sheltered from the opening door by a + seven-fold tapestry screen, was still at chess with his librarian. At a + little distance a middle-aged gentleman and three turbaned matrons were + cutting in at whist, shilling points, with a half-crown bet optional, and + not much ventured on. On tables, drawn into the recesses of the windows, + were the day’s newspapers, Gilray’s caricatures, the last new + publications, and such other ingenious suggestions to chit-chat. And round + these tables grouped those who had not yet found elsewhere their evening’s + amusement,—two or three shy young clergymen, the parish doctor, four + or five squires who felt great interest in politics, but never dreamed of + the extravagance of taking in a daily paper, and who now, monopolizing all + the journals they could find, began fairly with the heroic resolution to + skip nothing, from the first advertisement to the printer’s name. Amidst + one of these groups Mainwaring had bashfully ensconced himself. In the + farther division, the chandelier, suspended from the domed ceiling, threw + its cheerful light over a large circular table below, on which gleamed the + ponderous tea-urn of massive silver, with its usual accompaniments. Nor + were wanting there, in addition to those airy nothings, sliced + infinitesimally, from a French roll, the more substantial and now exiled + cheer of cakes,—plum and seed, Yorkshire and saffron,—attesting + the light hand of the housekeeper and the strong digestion of the guests. + Round this table were seated, in full gossip, the maids and the matrons, + with a slight sprinkling of the bolder young gentlemen who had been taught + to please the fair. The warmth of the evening allowed the upper casement + to be opened and the curtains drawn aside, and the July moonlight feebly + struggled against the blaze of the lights within. At this table it was + Miss Clavering’s obvious duty to preside; but that was a complaisance to + which she rarely condescended. Nevertheless, she had her own way of doing + the honour of her uncle’s house, which was not without courtesy and grace; + to glide from one to the other, exchange a few friendly words, see that + each set had its well-known amusements, and, finally, sit quietly down to + converse with some who, from gravity or age, appeared most to neglect or + be neglected by the rest, was her ordinary, and not unpopular mode of + welcoming the guests at Laughton,—not unpopular; for she thus + avoided all interference with the flirtations and conquests of humbler + damsels, whom her station and her endowments might otherwise have crossed + or humbled, while she insured the good word of the old, to whom the young + are seldom so attentive. But if a stranger of more than provincial repute + chanced to be present; if some stray member of parliament, or barrister on + the circuit, or wandering artist, accompanied any of the neighbours,—to + him Lucretia gave more earnest and undivided attention. Him she sought to + draw into a conversation deeper than the usual babble, and with her calm, + searching eyes, bent on him while he spoke, seemed to fathom the intellect + she set in play. But as yet, this evening, she had not made her + appearance,—a sin against etiquette very unusual in her. Perhaps her + recent conversation with Dalibard had absorbed her thoughts to + forgetfulness of the less important demands on her attention. Her absence + had not interfered with the gayety at the tea-table, which was frank even + to noisiness as it centred round the laughing face of Ardworth, who, + though unknown to most or all of the ladies present, beyond a brief + introduction to one or two of the first comers from Sir Miles (as the host + had risen from his chess to bid them welcome), had already contrived to + make himself perfectly at home and outrageously popular. Niched between + two bouncing lasses, he had commenced acquaintance with them in a strain + of familiar drollery and fun, which had soon broadened its circle, and now + embraced the whole group in the happy contagion of good-humour and young + animal spirits. Gabriel, allowed to sit up later than his usual hour, had + not, as might have been expected, attached himself to this circle, nor + indeed to any; he might be seen moving quietly about,—now + contemplating the pictures on the wall with a curious eye; now pausing at + the whist-table, and noting the game with the interest of an embryo + gamester; now throwing himself on an ottoman, and trying to coax towards + him Dash or Ponto,—trying in vain, for both the dogs abhorred him; + yet still, through all this general movement, had any one taken the pains + to observe him closely, it might have been sufficiently apparent that his + keen, bright, restless eye, from the corner of its long, sly lids, roved + chiefly towards the three persons whom he approached the least,—his + father, Mainwaring, and Mr. Vernon. This last had ensconced himself apart + from all, in the angle formed by one of the pilasters of the arch that + divided the room, so that he was in command, as it were, of both sections. + Reclined, with the careless grace that seemed inseparable from every + attitude and motion of his person, in one of the great velvet chairs, with + a book in his hand, which, to say truth, was turned upside down, but in + the lecture of which he seemed absorbed, he heard at one hand the mirthful + laughter that circled round young Ardworth, or, in its pauses, caught, on + the other side, muttered exclamations from the grave whist-players: “If + you had but trumped that diamond, ma’am!” “Bless me, sir, it was the best + heart!” And somehow or other, both the laughter and the exclamations + affected him alike with what then was called “the spleen,”—for the + one reminded him of his own young days of joyless, careless mirth, of + which his mechanical gayety now was but a mocking ghost; and the other + seemed a satire, a parody, on the fierce but noiseless rapture of gaming, + through which his passions had passed, when thousands had slipped away + with a bland smile, provoking not one of those natural ebullitions of + emotion which there accompanied the loss of a shilling point. And besides + this, Vernon had been so accustomed to the success of the drawing-room, to + be a somebody and a something in the company of wits and princes, that he + felt, for the first time, a sense of insignificance in this provincial + circle. Those fat squires had heard nothing of Mr. Vernon, except that he + would not have Laughton,—he had no acres, no vote in their county; + he was a nobody to them. Those ruddy maidens, though now and then, indeed, + one or two might steal an admiring glance at a figure of elegance so + unusual, regarded him not with the female interest he had been accustomed + to inspire. They felt instinctively that he could be nothing to them, nor + they to him,—a mere London fop, and not half so handsome as Squires + Bluff and Chuff. + </p> + <p> + Rousing himself from this little vexation to his vanity with a conscious + smile at his own weakness, Vernon turned his looks towards the door, + waiting for Lucretia’s entrance, and since her uncle’s address to him, + feeling that new and indescribable interest in her appearance which is apt + to steal into every breast when what was before but an indifferent + acquaintance, is suddenly enhaloed with the light of a possible wife. At + length the door opened, and Lucretia entered. Mr. Vernon lowered his book, + and gazed with an earnestness that partook both of doubt and admiration. + </p> + <p> + Lucretia Clavering was tall,—tall beyond what is admitted to be tall + in woman; but in her height there was nothing either awkward or masculine,—a + figure more perfect never served for model to a sculptor. The dress at + that day, unbecoming as we now deem it, was not to her—at least, on + the whole disadvantageous. The short waist gave greater sweep to her + majestic length of limb, while the classic thinness of the drapery + betrayed the exact proportion and the exquisite contour. The arms then + were worn bare almost to the shoulder, and Lucretia’s arms were not more + faultless in shape than dazzling in their snowy colour; the stately neck, + the falling shoulders, the firm, slight, yet rounded bust,—all would + have charmed equally the artist and the sensualist. Fortunately, the sole + defect of her form was not apparent at a distance: that defect was in the + hand; it had not the usual faults of female youthfulness,—the + superfluity of flesh, the too rosy healthfulness of colour,—on the + contrary, it was small and thin; but it was, nevertheless, more the hand + of a man than a woman: the shape had a man’s nervous distinctness, the + veins swelled like sinews, the joints of the fingers were marked and + prominent. In that hand it almost seemed as if the iron force of the + character betrayed itself. But, as we have said, this slight defect, which + few, if seen, would hypercritically notice, could not, of course, be + perceptible as she moved slowly up the room; and Vernon’s eye, glancing + over the noble figure, rested upon the face. Was it handsome? Was it + repelling? Strange that in feature it had pretensions to the highest order + of beauty, and yet even that experienced connoisseur in female charms was + almost as puzzled what sentence to pronounce. The hair, as was the fashion + of the day, clustered in profuse curls over the forehead, but could not + conceal a slight line or wrinkle between the brows; and this line, rare in + women at any age, rare even in men at hers, gave an expression at once of + thought and sternness to the whole face. The eyebrows themselves were + straight, and not strongly marked, a shade or two perhaps too light,—a + fault still more apparent in the lashes; the eyes were large, full, and + though bright, astonishingly calm and deep,—at least in ordinary + moments; yet withal they wanted the charm of that steadfast and open look + which goes at once to the heart and invites its trust,—their + expression was rather vague and abstracted. She usually looked aslant + while she spoke, and this, which with some appears but shyness, in one so + self-collected had an air of falsehood. But when, at times, if earnest, + and bent rather on examining those she addressed than guarding herself + from penetration, she fixed those eyes upon you with sudden and direct + scrutiny, the gaze impressed you powerfully, and haunted you with a + strange spell. The eye itself was of a peculiar and displeasing colour,—not + blue, nor gray, nor black, nor hazel, but rather of that cat-like green + which is drowsy in the light, and vivid in the shade. The profile was + purely Greek, and so seen, Lucretia’s beauty seemed incontestable; but in + front face, and still more when inclined between the two, all the features + took a sharpness that, however regular, had something chilling and severe: + the mouth was small, but the lips were thin and pale, and had an + expression of effort and contraction which added to the distrust that her + sidelong glance was calculated to inspire. The teeth were dazzlingly + white, but sharp and thin, and the eye-teeth were much longer than the + rest. The complexion was pale, but without much delicacy,—the + paleness seemed not natural to it, but rather that hue which study and + late vigils give to men; so that she wanted the freshness and bloom of + youth, and looked older than she was,—an effect confirmed by an + absence of roundness in the cheek not noticeable in the profile, but + rendering the front face somewhat harsh as well as sharp. In a word, the + face and the figure were not in harmony: the figure prevented you from + pronouncing her to be masculine; the face took from the figure the charm + of feminacy. It was the head of the young Augustus upon the form of + Agrippina. One touch more, and we close a description which already + perhaps the reader may consider frivolously minute. If you had placed + before the mouth and lower part of the face a mask or bandage, the whole + character of the upper face would have changed at once,—the eye lost + its glittering falseness, the brow its sinister contraction; you would + have pronounced the face not only beautiful, but sweet and womanly. Take + that bandage suddenly away and the change would have startled you, and + startled you the more because you could detect no sufficient defect or + disproportion in the lower part of the countenance to explain it. It was + as if the mouth was the key to the whole: the key nothing without the + text, the text uncomprehended without the key. + </p> + <p> + Such, then, was Lucretia Clavering in outward appearance at the age of + twenty,—striking to the most careless eye; interesting and + perplexing the student in that dark language never yet deciphered,—the + human countenance. The reader must have observed that the effect every + face that he remarks for the first time produces is different from the + impression it leaves upon him when habitually seen. Perhaps no two persons + differ more from each other than does the same countenance in our earliest + recollection of it from the countenance regarded in the familiarity of + repeated intercourse. And this was especially the case with Lucretia + Clavering’s: the first impulse of nearly all who beheld it was distrust + that partook of fear; it almost inspired you with a sense of danger. The + judgment rose up against it; the heart set itself on its guard. But this + uneasy sentiment soon died away, with most observers, in admiration at the + chiselled outline, which, like the Grecian sculpture, gained the more the + more it was examined, in respect for the intellectual power of the + expression, and in fascinated pleasure at the charm of a smile, rarely + employed, it is true, but the more attractive both for that reason and for + its sudden effect in giving brightness and persuasion to an aspect that + needed them so much. It was literally like the abrupt breaking out of a + sunbeam; and the repellent impression of the face thus familiarized away, + the matchless form took its natural influence; so that while one who but + saw Lucretia for a moment might have pronounced her almost plain, and + certainly not prepossessing in appearance, those with whom she lived, + those whom she sought to please, those who saw her daily, united in + acknowledgment of her beauty; and if they still felt awe, attributed it + only to the force of her understanding. + </p> + <p> + As she now came midway up the room, Gabriel started from his seat and ran + to her caressingly. Lucretia bent down, and placed her hand upon his fair + locks. As she did so, he whispered,— + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Vernon has been watching for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Where is your father?” + </p> + <p> + “Behind the screen, at chess with Sir Miles.” + </p> + <p> + “With Sir Miles!” and Lucretia’s eye fell, with the direct gaze we have + before referred to, upon the boy’s face. + </p> + <p> + “I have been looking over them pretty often,” said he, meaningly: “they + have talked of nothing but the game.” Lucretia lifted her head, and + glanced round with her furtive eye; the boy divined the search, and with a + scarce perceptible gesture pointed her attention to Mainwaring’s retreat. + Her vivid smile passed over her lips as she bowed slightly to her lover, + and then, withdrawing the hand which Gabriel had taken in his own, she + moved on, passed Vernon with a commonplace word or two, and was soon + exchanging greetings with the gay merry-makers in the farther part of the + room. A few minutes afterwards, the servants entered, the tea-table was + removed, chairs were thrust back, a single lady of a certain age + volunteered her services at the piano, and dancing began within the ample + space which the arch fenced off from the whist-players. Vernon had watched + his opportunity, and at the first sound of the piano had gained Lucretia’s + side, and with grave politeness pre-engaged her hand for the opening + dance. + </p> + <p> + At that day, though it is not so very long ago, gentlemen were not ashamed + to dance, and to dance well; it was no languid saunter through a + quadrille; it was fair, deliberate, skilful dancing amongst the courtly,—free, + bounding movement amongst the gay. + </p> + <p> + Vernon, as might be expected, was the most admired performer of the + evening; but he was thinking very little of the notice he at last excited, + he was employing such ingenuity as his experience of life supplied to the + deficiencies of a very imperfect education, limited to the little flogged + into him at Eton, in deciphering the character and getting at the heart of + his fair partner. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder you do not make Sir Miles take you to London, my cousin, if you + will allow me to call you so. You ought to have been presented.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no wish to go to London yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet!” said Mr. Vernon, with the somewhat fade gallantry of his day; + “beauty even like yours has little time to spare.” + </p> + <p> + “Hands across, hands across!” cried Mr. Ardworth. + </p> + <p> + “And,” continued Mr. Vernon, as soon as a pause was permitted to him, + “there is a song which the prince sings, written by some sensible + old-fashioned fellow, which says,— + </p> + <p> + “‘Gather your rosebuds while you may, For time is still a flying.”’ + </p> + <p> + “You have obeyed the moral of the song yourself, I believe, Mr. Vernon.” + </p> + <p> + “Call me cousin, or Charles,—Charley, if you like, as most of my + friends do; nobody ever calls me Mr. Vernon,—I don’t know myself by + that name.” + </p> + <p> + “Down the middle; we are all waiting for you,” shouted Ardworth. + </p> + <p> + And down the middle, with wondrous grace, glided the exquisite nankeens of + Charley Vernon. + </p> + <p> + The dance now, thanks to Ardworth, became too animated and riotous to + allow more than a few broken monosyllables till Vernon and his partner + gained the end of the set, and then, flirting his partner’s fan, he + recommenced,— + </p> + <p> + “Seriously, my cousin, you must sometimes feel very much moped here.” + </p> + <p> + “Never!” answered Lucretia. Not once yet had her eye rested on Mr. Vernon. + She felt that she was sounded. + </p> + <p> + “Yet I am sure you have a taste for the pomps and vanities. Aha! there is + ambition under those careless curls,” said Mr. Vernon, with his easy, + adorable impertinence. + </p> + <p> + Lucretia winced. + </p> + <p> + “But if I were ambitious, what field for ambition could I find in London?” + </p> + <p> + “The same as Alexander,—empire, my cousin.” + </p> + <p> + “You forget that I am not a man. Man, indeed, may hope for an empire. It + is something to be a Pitt, or even a Warren Hastings.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Vernon stared. Was this stupidity, or what? + </p> + <p> + “A woman has an empire more undisputed than Mr. Pitt’s, and more pitiless + than that of Governor Hastings.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, pardon me, Mr. Vernon—” + </p> + <p> + “Charles, if you please.” + </p> + <p> + Lucretia’s brow darkened. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me,” she repeated; “but these compliments, if such they are meant + to be, meet a very ungrateful return. A woman’s empire over gauzes and + ribbons, over tea-tables and drums, over fops and coquettes, is not worth + a journey from Laughton to London.” + </p> + <p> + “You think you can despise admiration?” + </p> + <p> + “What you mean by admiration,—yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And love too?” said Vernon, in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + Now Lucretia at once and abruptly raised her eyes to her partner. Was he + aiming at her secret? Was he hinting at intentions of his own? The look + chilled Vernon, and he turned away his head. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, then, in pursuance of a new train of ideas, Lucretia altered her + manner to him. She had detected what before she had surmised. This sudden + familiarity on his part arose from notions her uncle had instilled,—the + visitor had been incited to become the suitor. Her penetration into + character, which from childhood had been her passionate study, told her + that on that light, polished, fearless nature scorn would have slight + effect; to meet the familiarity would be the best means to secure a + friend, to disarm a wooer. She changed then her manner; she summoned up + her extraordinary craft; she accepted the intimacy held out to her, not to + unguard herself, but to lay open her opponent. It became necessary to her + to know this man, to have such power as the knowledge might give her. + Insensibly and gradually she led her companion away from his design of + approaching her own secrets or character, into frank talk about himself. + All unconsciously he began to lay bare to his listener the infirmities of + his erring, open heart. Silently she looked down, and plumbed them all,—the + frivolity, the recklessness, the half gay, half mournful sense of waste + and ruin. There, blooming amongst the wrecks, she saw the fairest flowers + of noble manhood profuse and fragrant still,—generosity and courage + and disregard for self. Spendthrift and gambler on one side the medal; + gentleman and soldier on the other. Beside this maimed and imperfect + nature she measured her own prepared and profound intellect, and as she + listened, her smile became more bland and frequent. She could afford to be + gracious; she felt superiority, scorn, and safety. + </p> + <p> + As this seeming intimacy had matured, Vernon and his partner had quitted + the dance, and were conversing apart in the recess of one of the windows, + which the newspaper readers had deserted, in the part of the room where + Sir Miles and Dalibard, still seated, were about to commence their third + game at chess. The baronet’s hand ceased from the task of arranging his + pawns; his eye was upon the pair; and then, after a long and complacent + gaze, it looked round without discovering the object it sought. + </p> + <p> + “I am about to task your kindness most improperly, Monsieur Dalibard,” + said Sir Miles, with that politeness so displeasing to Ardworth, “but will + you do me the favour to move aside that fold of the screen? I wish for a + better view of our young people. Thank you very much.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Miles now discovered Mainwaring, and observed that, far from regarding + with self-betraying jealousy the apparent flirtation going on between + Lucretia and her kinsman, he was engaged in animated conversation with the + chairman of the quarter sessions. Sir Miles was satisfied, and ranged his + pawns. All this time, and indeed ever since they had sat down to play, the + Provencal had been waiting, with the patience that belonged to his + character, for some observation from Sir Miles on the subject which, his + sagacity perceived, was engrossing his thoughts. There had been about the + old gentleman a fidgety restlessness which showed that something was on + his mind. His eyes had been frequently turned towards his niece since her + entrance; once or twice he had cleared his throat and hemmed,—his + usual prelude to some more important communication; and Dalibard had heard + him muttering to himself, and fancied he caught the name of “Mainwaring.” + And indeed the baronet had been repeatedly on the verge of sounding his + secretary, and as often had been checked both by pride in himself and + pride for Lucretia. It seemed to him beneath his own dignity and hers even + to hint to an inferior a fear, a doubt, of the heiress of Laughton. + Olivier Dalibard could easily have led on his patron, he could easily, if + he pleased it, have dropped words to instil suspicion and prompt question; + but that was not his object,—he rather shunned than courted any + reference to himself upon the matter; for he knew that Lucretia, if she + could suppose that he, however indirectly, had betrayed her to her uncle, + would at once declare his own suit to her, and so procure his immediate + dismissal; while, aware of her powers of dissimulation and her influence + over her uncle, he feared that a single word from her would suffice to + remove all suspicion in Sir Miles, however ingeniously implanted, and + however truthfully grounded. But all the while, under his apparent calm, + his mind was busy and his passions burning. + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw! your old play,—the bishop again,” said Sir Miles, laughing, + as he moved a knight to frustrate his adversary’s supposed plan; and then, + turning back, he once more contemplated the growing familiarity between + Vernon and his niece. This time he could not contain his pleasure. + “Dalibard, my dear sir,” he said, rubbing his hands, “look yonder: they + would make a handsome couple!” + </p> + <p> + “Who, sir?” said the Provencal, looking another way, with dogged + stupidity. + </p> + <p> + “Who? Damn it, man! Nay, pray forgive my ill manners, but I felt glad, + sir, and proud, sir. Who? Charley Vernon and Lucretia Clavering.” + </p> + <p> + “Assuredly, yes. Do you think that there is a chance of so happy an + event?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it depends only on Lucretia; I shall never force her.” Here Sir + Miles stopped, for Gabriel, unperceived before, picked up his patron’s + pocket-handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + Olivier Dalibard’s gray eyes rested coldly on his son. “You are not + dancing to-night, my boy. Go; I like to see you amused.” + </p> + <p> + The boy obeyed at once, as he always did, the paternal commands. He found + a partner, and joined a dance just begun; and in the midst of the dance, + Honore Gabriel Varney seemed a new being,—not Ardworth himself so + thoroughly entered into the enjoyment of the exercise, the lights, the + music. With brilliant eyes and dilated nostrils, he seemed prematurely to + feel all that is exciting and voluptuous in that exhilaration which to + childhood is usually so innocent. His glances followed the fairest form; + his clasp lingered in the softest hand; his voice trembled as the warm + breath of his partner came on his cheeks. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the conversation between the chess-players continued. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the baronet, “it depends only on Lucretia. And she seems + pleased with Vernon: who would not be?” + </p> + <p> + “Your penetration rarely deceives you, sir. I own I think with you. Does + Mr. Vernon know that you would permit the alliance?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but—” the baronet stopped short. + </p> + <p> + “You were saying, but—But what, Sir Miles?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the dog affected diffidence; he had some fear lest he should not win + her affections. But luckily, at least, they are disengaged.” + </p> + <p> + Dalibard looked grave, and his eye, as if involuntarily, glanced towards + Mainwaring. As ill-luck would have it, the young man had then ceased his + conversation with the chairman of the quarter sessions, and with arms + folded, brow contracted, and looks, earnest, anxious, and intent, was + contemplating the whispered conference between Lucretia and Vernon. + </p> + <p> + Sir Miles’s eye had followed his secretary’s, and his face changed. His + hand fell on the chess board and upset half the men; he uttered a very + audible “Zounds!” + </p> + <p> + “I think, Sir Miles,” said the Provencal, rising, as if conscious that Sir + Miles wished to play no more,—“I think that if you spoke soon to + Miss Clavering as to your views with regard to Mr. Vernon, it might ripen + matters; for I have heard it said by French mothers—and our + Frenchwomen understand the female heart, sir—that a girl having no + other affection is often prepossessed at once in favour of a man whom she + knows beforehand is prepared to woo and to win her, whereas without that + knowledge he would have seemed but an ordinary acquaintance.” + </p> + <p> + “It is shrewdly said, my dear Monsieur Dalibard; and for more reasons than + one, the sooner I speak to her the better. Lend me your arm. It is time + for supper; I see the dance is over.” + </p> + <p> + Passing by the place where Mainwaring still leaned, the baronet looked at + him fixedly. The young man did not notice the gaze. Sir Miles touched him + gently. He started as from a revery. + </p> + <p> + “You have not danced, Mr. Mainwaring.” + </p> + <p> + “I dance so seldom, Sir Miles,” said Mainwaring, colouring. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you employ your head more than your heels, young gentleman,—very + right; I must speak to you to-morrow. Well, ladies, I hope you have + enjoyed yourselves? My dear Mrs. Vesey, you and I are old friends, you + know; many a minuet we have danced together, eh? We can’t dance now, but + we can walk arm-in-arm together still. Honour me. And your little grandson—vaccinated, + eh? Wonderful invention! To supper, ladies, to supper!” + </p> + <p> + The company were gone. The lights were out,—all save the lights of + heaven; and they came bright and still through the casements. Moonbeam and + Starbeam, they seemed now to have the old house to themselves. In came the + rays, brighter and longer and bolder, like fairies that march, rank upon + rank, into their kingdom of solitude. Down the oak stairs, from the + casements, blazoned with heraldry, moved the rays, creepingly, fearfully. + On the armour in the hall clustered the rays boldly and brightly, till the + steel shone out like a mirror. In the library, long and low, they just + entered, stopped short: it was no place for their play. In the + drawing-room, now deserted, they were more curious and adventurous. + Through the large window, still open, they came in freely and archly, as + if to spy what had caused such disorder; the stiff chairs out of place, + the smooth floor despoiled of its carpet, that flower dropped on the + ground, that scarf forgotten on the table,—the rays lingered upon + them all. Up and down through the house, from the base to the roof, roved + the children of the air, and found but two spirits awake amidst the + slumber of the rest. + </p> + <p> + In that tower to the east, in the tapestry chamber with the large gilded + bed in the recess, came the rays, tamed and wan, as if scared by the + grosser light on the table. By that table sat a girl, her brow leaning on + one hand; in the other she held a rose,—it is a love-token: + exchanged with its sister rose, by stealth, in mute sign of reproach for + doubt excited,—an assurance and a reconciliation. A love-token!—shrink + not, ye rays; there is something akin to you in love. But see,—the + hand closes convulsively on the flower; it hides it not in the breast; it + lifts it not to the lip: it throws it passionately aside. “How long!” + muttered the girl, impetuously,—“how long! And to think that will + here cannot shorten an hour!” Then she rose, and walked to and fro, and + each time she gained a certain niche in the chamber she paused, and then + irresolutely passed on again. What is in that niche? Only books. What can + books teach thee, pale girl? The step treads firmer; this time it halts + more resolved. The hand that clasped the flower takes down a volume. The + girl sits again before the light. See, O rays! what is the volume? Moon + and Starbeam, ye love what lovers read by the lamp in the loneliness. No + love-ditty this; no yet holier lesson to patience, and moral to hope. What + hast thou, young girl, strong in health and rich in years, with the lore + of the leech,—with prognostics and symptoms and diseases? She is + tracing with hard eyes the signs that precede the grim enemy in his most + sudden approach,—the habits that invite him, the warnings that he + gives. He whose wealth shall make her free has twice had the visiting + shock; he starves not, he lives frae! She closes the volume, and, musing, + metes him out the hours and days he has to live. Shrink back, ye rays! The + love is disenhallowed; while the hand was on the rose, the thought was on + the charnel. + </p> + <p> + Yonder, in the opposite tower, in the small casement near the roof, came + the rays. Childhood is asleep. Moon and Starbeam, ye love the slumbers of + the child! The door opens, a dark figure steals noiselessly in. The father + comes to look on the sleep of his son. Holy tenderness, if this be all! + “Gabriel, wake!” said a low, stern voice, and a rough hand shook the + sleeper. + </p> + <p> + The sharpest test of those nerves upon which depends the mere animal + courage is to be roused suddenly, in the depth of night, by a violent + hand. The impulse of Gabriel, thus startled, was neither of timidity nor + surprise. It was that of some Spartan boy not new to danger; with a slight + cry and a fierce spring, the son’s hand clutched at the father’s throat. + Dalibard shook him off with an effort, and a smile, half in approval, half + in irony, played by the moonlight over his lips. + </p> + <p> + “Blood will out, young tiger,” said he. “Hush, and hear me!” + </p> + <p> + “Is it you, Father?” said Gabriel. “I thought, I dreamed—” + </p> + <p> + “No matter; think, dream always that man should be prepared for defence + from peril!” + </p> + <p> + “Gabriel,” and the pale scholar seated himself on the bed, “turn your face + to mine,—nearer; let the moon fall on it; lift your eyes; look at me—so! + Are you not playing false to me? Are you not Lucretia’s spy, while you are + pretending to be mine? It is so; your eye betrays you. Now, heed me; you + have a mind beyond your years. Do you love best the miserable garret in + London, the hard fare and squalid dress, or your lodgment here, the sense + of luxury, the sight of splendour, the atmosphere of wealth? You have the + choice before you.” + </p> + <p> + “I choose, as you would have me, then,” said the boy, “the last.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you. Attend! You do not love me,—that is natural; you are + the son of Clara Varney! You have supposed that in loving Lucretia + Clavering you might vex or thwart me, you scarce knew how; and Lucretia + Clavering has gold and gifts and soft words and promises to bribe withal. + I now tell you openly my plan with regard to this girl: it is my aim to + marry her; to be master of this house and these lands. If I succeed, you + share them with me. By betraying me, word or look, to Lucretia, you + frustrate this aim; you plot against our rise and to our ruin. Deem not + that you could escape my fall; if I am driven hence,—as you might + drive me,—you share my fate; and mark me, you are delivered up to my + revenge! You cease to be my son,—you are my foe. Child! you know + me.” + </p> + <p> + The boy, bold as he was, shuddered; but after a pause so brief that a + breath scarce passed between his silence and his words, he replied with + emphasis,— + </p> + <p> + “Father, you have read my heart. I have been persuaded by Lucretia (for + she bewitches me) to watch you,—at least, when you are with Sir + Miles. I knew that this was mixed up with Mr. Mainwaring. Now that you + have made me understand your own views, I will be true to you,—true + without threats.” + </p> + <p> + The father looked hard on him, and seemed satisfied with the gaze. + “Remember, at least, that your future rests upon your truth; that is no + threat,—that is a thought of hope. Now sleep or muse on it.” He + dropped the curtain which his hand had drawn aside, and stole from the + room as noiselessly as he had entered. The boy slept no more. Deceit and + cupidity and corrupt ambition were at work in his brain. Shrink back, Moon + and Starbeam! On that child’s brow play the demons who had followed the + father’s step to his bed of sleep. + </p> + <p> + Back to his own room, close at hand, crept Olivier Dalibard. The walls + were lined with books,—many in language and deep in lore. Moon and + Starbeam, ye love the midnight solitude of the scholar! The Provencal + stole to the casement, and looked forth. All was serene,—breathless + trees and gleaming sculpture and whitened sward, girdled by the mass of + shadow. Of what thought the man? Not of the present loveliness which the + scene gave to his eye, nor of the future mysteries which the stars should + whisper to the soul. Gloomily over a stormy and a hideous past roved the + memory, stored with fraud and foul with crime,—plan upon plan, + schemed with ruthless wisdom, followed up by remorseless daring, and yet + all now a ruin and a blank; an intellect at war with good, and the good + had conquered! But the conviction neither touched the conscience nor + enlightened the reason; he felt, it is true, a moody sense of impotence, + but it brought rage, not despondency. It was not that he submitted to Good + as too powerful to oppose, but that he deemed he had not yet gained all + the mastery over the arsenal of Evil. And evil he called it not. Good and + evil to him were but subordinate genii at the command of Mind; they were + the slaves of the lamp. But had he got at the true secret of the lamp + itself? “How is it,” he thought, as he turned impatiently from the + casement, “that I am baffled here where my fortunes seemed most assured? + Here the mind has been of my own training, and prepared by nature to my + hand; here all opportunity has smiled. And suddenly the merest commonplace + in the vulgar lives of mortals,—an unlooked-for rival; rival, too, + of the mould I had taught her to despise; one of the stock gallants of a + comedy, no character but youth and fair looks,—yea, the lover of the + stage starts up, and the fabric of years is overthrown.” As he thus mused, + he placed his hand upon a small box on one of the tables. “Yet within + this,” resumed his soliloquy, and he struck the lid, that gave back a dull + sound,—“within this I hold the keys of life and death! Fool! the + power does not reach to the heart, except to still it. Verily and indeed + were the old heathens mistaken? Are there no philters to change the + current of desire? But touch one chord in a girl’s affection, and all the + rest is mine, all, all, lands, station, power, all the rest are in the + opening of this lid!” + </p> + <p> + Hide in the cloud, O Moon! shrink back, ye Stars! send not your holy, + pure, and trouble-lulling light to the countenance blanched and livid with + the thoughts of murder. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. CONFERENCES. + </h2> + <p> + The next day Sir Miles did not appear at breakfast,—not that he was + unwell, but that he meditated holding certain audiences, and on such + occasions the good old gentleman liked to prepare himself. He belonged to + a school in which, amidst much that was hearty and convivial, there was + much also that nowadays would seem stiff and formal, contrasting the other + school immediately succeeding him, which Mr. Vernon represented, and of + which the Charles Surface of Sheridan is a faithful and admirable type. + The room that Sir Miles appropriated to himself was, properly speaking, + the state apartment, called, in the old inventories, “King James’s + chamber;” it was on the first floor, communicating with the + picture-gallery, which at the farther end opened upon a corridor admitting + to the principal bedrooms. As Sir Miles cared nothing for holiday state, + he had unscrupulously taken his cubiculum in this chamber, which was + really the handsomest in the house, except the banquet-hall, placed his + bed in one angle with a huge screen before it, filled up the space with + his Italian antiquities and curiosities; and fixed his favourite pictures + on the faded gilt leather panelled on the walls. His main motive in this + was the communication with the adjoining gallery, which, when the weather + was unfavourable, furnished ample room for his habitual walk. He knew how + many strides by the help of his crutch made a mile, and this was + convenient. Moreover, he liked to look, when alone, on those old portraits + of his ancestors, which he had religiously conserved in their places, + preferring to thrust his Florentine and Venetian masterpieces into + bedrooms and parlours, rather than to dislodge from the gallery the stiff + ruffs, doublets, and farthingales of his predecessors. It was whispered in + the house that the baronet, whenever he had to reprove a tenant or lecture + a dependant, took care to have him brought to his sanctum, through the + full length of this gallery, so that the victim might be duly prepared and + awed by the imposing effect of so stately a journey, and the grave faces + of all the generations of St. John, which could not fail to impress him + with the dignity of the family, and alarm him at the prospect of the + injured frown of its representative. Across this gallery now, following + the steps of the powdered valet, strode young Ardworth, staring now and + then at some portrait more than usually grim, more often wondering why his + boots, that never creaked before, should creak on those particular boards, + and feeling a quiet curiosity, without the least mixture of fear or awe as + to what old Squaretoes intended to say to him. But all feeling of + irreverence ceased when, shown into the baronet’s room, and the door + closed, Sir Miles rose with a smile, and cordially shaking his hand, said, + dropping the punctilious courtesy of Mister: “Ardworth, sir, if I had a + little prejudice against you before you came, you have conquered it. You + are a fine, manly, spirited fellow, sir; and you have an old man’s good + wishes,—which are no bad beginning to a young man’s good fortune.” + </p> + <p> + The colour rushed over Ardworth’s forehead, and a tear sprang to his eyes. + He felt a rising at his throat as he stammered out some not very audible + reply. + </p> + <p> + “I wished to see you, young gentleman, that I might judge myself what you + would like best, and what would best fit you. Your father is in the army: + what say you to a pair of colours?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Sir Miles, that is my utmost ambition! Anything but law, except the + Church; anything but the Church, except the desk and a counter!” + </p> + <p> + The baronet, much pleased, gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Ha, ha! + we gentlemen, you see (for the Ardworths are very well born, very), we + gentlemen understand each other! Between you and me, I never liked the + law, never thought a man of birth should belong to it. Take money for + lying,—shabby, shocking! Don’t let that go any farther! The + Church-Mother Church—I honour her! Church and State go together! But + one ought to be very good to preach to others,—better than you and I + are, eh? ha, ha! Well, then, you like the army,—there’s a letter for + you to the Horse Guards. Go up to town; your business is done. And, as for + your outfit,—read this little book at your leisure.” And Sir Miles + thrust a pocketbook into Ardworth’s hand. + </p> + <p> + “But pardon me,” said the young man, much bewildered. “What claim have I, + Sir Miles, to such generosity? I know that my uncle offended you.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir, that’s the claim!” said Sir Miles, gravely. “I cannot live long,” he + added, with a touch of melancholy in his voice; “let me die in peace with + all! Perhaps I injured your uncle,—who knows but, if so, he hears + and pardons me now?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Sir Miles!” exclaimed the thoughtless, generous-hearted young man; + “and my little playfellow, Susan, your own niece!” + </p> + <p> + Sir Miles drew back haughtily; but the burst that offended him rose so + evidently from the heart, was so excusable from its motive and the youth’s + ignorance of the world, that his frown soon vanished as he said, calmly + and gravely,— + </p> + <p> + “No man, my good sir, can allow to others the right to touch on his family + affairs; I trust I shall be just to the poor young lady. And so, if we + never meet again, let us think well of each other. Go, my boy; serve your + king and your country!” + </p> + <p> + “I will do my best, Sir Miles, if only to merit your kindness.” + </p> + <p> + “Stay a moment: you are intimate, I find, with young Mainwaring?” + </p> + <p> + “An old college friendship, Sir Miles.” + </p> + <p> + “The army will not do for him, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “He is too clever for it, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, he’d make a lawyer, I suppose,—glib tongue enough, and can talk + well; and lie, if he’s paid for it?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know how lawyers regard those matters, Sir Miles; but if you + don’t make him a lawyer, I am sure you must leave him an honest man.” + </p> + <p> + “Really and truly—” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my honour I think so.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-day to you, and good luck. You must catch the coach at the lodge; + for I see by the papers that, in spite of all the talk about peace, they + are raising regiments like wildfire.” + </p> + <p> + With very different feelings from those with which he had entered the + room, Ardworth quitted it. He hurried into his own chamber to thrust his + clothes into his portmanteau, and while thus employed, Mainwaring entered. + </p> + <p> + “Joy, my dear fellow, wish me joy! I am going to town,—into the + army; abroad; to be shot at, thank Heaven! That dear old gentleman! Just + throw me that coat, will you?” + </p> + <p> + A very few more words sufficed to explain what had passed to Mainwaring. + He sighed when his friend had finished: “I wish I were going with you!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you? Sir Miles has only got to write another letter to the Horse + Guards. But no, you are meant to be something better than food for powder; + and, besides, your Lucretia! Hang it, I am sorry I cannot stay to examine + her as I had promised; but I have seen enough to know that she certainly + loves you. Ah, when she changed flowers with you, you did not think I saw + you,—sly, was not I? Pshaw! She was only playing with Vernon. But + still, do you know, Will, now that Sir Miles has spoken to me so, that I + could have sobbed, ‘God bless you, my old boy!’ ‘pon my life, I could! + Now, do you know that I feel enraged with you for abetting that girl to + deceive him?” + </p> + <p> + “I am enraged with myself; and—” + </p> + <p> + Here a servant entered, and informed Mainwaring that he had been searching + for him; Sir Miles requested to see him in his room. Mainwaring started + like a culprit. + </p> + <p> + “Never fear,” whispered Ardworth; “he has no suspicion of you, I’m sure. + Shake hands. When shall we meet again? Is it not odd, I, who am a + republican by theory, taking King George’s pay to fight against the + French? No use stopping now to moralize on such contradictions. John, Tom,—what’s + your name?—here, my man, here, throw that portmanteau on your + shoulder and come to the lodge.” And so, full of health, hope, vivacity, + and spirit, John Walter Ardworth departed on his career. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Mainwaring slowly took his way to Sir Miles. As he approached + the gallery, he met Lucretia, who was coming from her own room. “Sir Miles + has sent for me,” he said meaningly. He had time for no more, for the + valet was at the door of the gallery, waiting to usher him to his host. + “Ha! you will say not a word that can betray us; guard your looks too!” + whispered Lucretia, hurriedly; “afterwards, join me by the cedars.” She + passed on towards the staircase, and glanced at the large clock that was + placed there. “Past eleven! Vernon is never up before twelve. I must see + him before my uncle sends for me, as he will send if he suspects—” + She paused, went back to her room, rang for her maid, dressed as for + walking, and said carelessly, “If Sir Miles wants me, I am gone to the + rectory, and shall probably return by the village, so that I shall be back + about one.” Towards the rectory, indeed, Lucretia bent her way; but + half-way there, turned back, and passing through the plantation at the + rear of the house, awaited Mainwaring on the bench beneath the cedars. He + was not long before he joined her. His face was sad and thoughtful; and + when he seated himself by her side, it was with a weariness of spirit that + alarmed her. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said she, fearfully, and she placed her hand on his. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lucretia,” he exclaimed, as he pressed that hand with an emotion that + came from other passions than love, “we, or rather I, have done great + wrong. I have been leading you to betray your uncle’s trust, to convert + your gratitude to him into hypocrisy. I have been unworthy of myself. I am + poor, I am humbly born, but till I came here, I was rich and proud in + honour. I am not so now. Lucretia, pardon me, pardon me! Let the dream be + over; we must not sin thus; for it is sin, and the worst of sin,—treachery. + We must part: forget me!” + </p> + <p> + “Forget you! Never, never, never!” cried Lucretia, with suppressed but + most earnest vehemence, her breast heaving, her hands, as he dropped the + one he held, clasped together, her eyes full of tears,—transformed + at once into softness, meekness, even while racked by passion and despair. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, William, say anything,—reproach, chide, despise me, for mine is + all the fault; say anything but that word ‘part.’ I have chosen you, I + have sought you out, I have wooed you, if you will; be it so. I cling to + you, you are my all,—all that saves me from—from myself,” she + added falteringly, and in a hollow voice. “Your love—you know not + what it is to me! I scarcely knew it myself before. I feel what it is now, + when you say ‘part.’” + </p> + <p> + Agitated and tortured, Mainwaring writhed at these burning words, bent his + face low, and covered it with his hands. + </p> + <p> + He felt her clasp struggling to withdraw them, yielded, and saw her + kneeling at his feet. His manhood and his gratitude and his heart all + moved by that sight in one so haughty, he opened his arms, and she fell on + his breast. “You will never say ‘part’ again, William!” she gasped + convulsively. + </p> + <p> + “But what are we to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Say, first, what has passed between you and my uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “Little to relate; for I can repeat words, not tones and looks. Sir Miles + spoke to me, at first kindly and encouragingly, about my prospects, said + it was time that I should fix myself, added a few words, with menacing + emphasis, against what he called ‘idle dreams and desultory ambition,’ and + observing that I changed countenance,—for I felt that I did,—his + manner became more cold and severe. Lucretia, if he has not detected our + secret, he more than suspects my—my presumption. Finally, he said + dryly, that I had better return home, consult with my father, and that if + I preferred entering into the service of the Government to any mercantile + profession, he thought he had sufficient interest to promote my views. + But, clearly and distinctly, he left on my mind one impression,—that + my visits here are over.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he allude to me—to Mr. Vernon?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Lucretia! do you know him so little,—his delicacy, his pride?” + </p> + <p> + Lucretia was silent, and Mainwaring continued:— + </p> + <p> + “I felt that I was dismissed. I took my leave of your uncle; I came hither + with the intention to say farewell forever.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! hush! that thought is over. And you return to your father’s,—perhaps + better so: it is but hope deferred; and in your absence I can the more + easily allay all suspicion, if suspicion exist. But I must write to you; + we must correspond. William, dear William, write often,—write + kindly; tell me, in every letter, that you love me,—that you love + only me; that you will be patient, and confide.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear Lucretia,” said Mainwaring, tenderly, and moved by the pathos of her + earnest and imploring voice, “but you forget: the bag is always brought + first to Sir Miles; he will recognize my hand. And to whom can you trust + your own letters?” + </p> + <p> + “True,” replied Lucretia, despondingly; and there was a pause. Suddenly + she lifted her head, and cried: “But your father’s house is not far from + this,—not ten miles; we can find a spot at the remote end of the + park, near the path through the great wood: there I can leave my letters; + there I can find yours.” + </p> + <p> + “But it must be seldom. If any of Sir Miles’s servants see me, if—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, William, William, this is not the language of love!” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me,—I think of you!” + </p> + <p> + “Love thinks of nothing but itself; it is tyrannical, absorbing,—it + forgets even the object loved; it feeds on danger; it strengthens by + obstacles,” said Lucretia, tossing her hair from her forehead, and with an + expression of dark and wild power on her brow and in her eyes. “Fear not + for me; I am sufficient guard upon myself. Even while I speak, I think,—yes, + I have thought of the very spot. You remember that hollow oak at the + bottom of the dell, in which Guy St. John, the Cavalier, is said to have + hid himself from Fairfax’s soldiers? Every Monday I will leave a letter in + that hollow; every Tuesday you can search for it, and leave your own. This + is but once a week; there is no risk here.” + </p> + <p> + Mainwaring’s conscience still smote him, but he had not the strength to + resist the energy of Lucretia. The force of her character seized upon the + weak part of his own,—its gentleness, its fear of inflicting pain, + its reluctance to say “No,”—that simple cause of misery to the + over-timid. A few sentences more, full of courage, confidence, and + passion, on the part of the woman, of constraint and yet of soothed and + grateful affection on that of the man, and the affianced parted. + </p> + <p> + Mainwaring had already given orders to have his trunks sent to him at his + father’s; and, a hardy pedestrian by habit, he now struck across the park, + passed the dell and the hollow tree, commonly called “Guy’s Oak,” and + across woodland and fields golden with ripening corn, took his way to the + town, in the centre of which, square, solid, and imposing, stood the + respectable residence of his bustling, active, electioneering father. + </p> + <p> + Lucretia’s eye followed a form as fair as ever captivated maiden’s glance, + till it was out of sight; and then, as she emerged from the shade of the + cedars into the more open space of the garden, her usual thoughtful + composure was restored to her steadfast countenance. On the terrace, she + caught sight of Vernon, who had just quitted his own room, where he always + breakfasted alone, and who was now languidly stretched on a bench, and + basking in the sun. Like all who have abused life, Vernon was not the same + man in the early part of the day. The spirits that rose to temperate heat + the third hour after noon, and expanded into glow when the lights shone + over gay carousers, at morning were flat and exhausted. With hollow eyes + and that weary fall of the muscles of the cheeks which betrays the votary + of Bacchus,—the convivial three-bottle man,—Charley Vernon + forced a smile, meant to be airy and impertinent, to his pale lips, as he + rose with effort, and extended three fingers to his cousin. + </p> + <p> + “Where have you been hiding? Catching bloom from the roses? You have the + prettiest shade of colour,—just enough; not a hue too much. And + there is Sir Miles’s valet gone to the rectory, and the fat footman + puffing away towards the village, and I, like a faithful warden, from my + post at the castle, all looking out for the truant.” + </p> + <p> + “But who wants me, cousin?” said Lucretia, with the full blaze of her rare + and captivating smile. + </p> + <p> + “The knight of Laughton confessedly wants thee, O damsel! The knight of + the Bleeding Heart may want thee more,—dare he own it?” + </p> + <p> + And with a hand that trembled a little, not with love, at least, it + trembled always a little before the Madeira at luncheon,—he lifted + hers to his lips. + </p> + <p> + “Compliments again,—words, idle words!” said Lucretia, looking down + bashfully. + </p> + <p> + “How can I convince thee of my sincerity, unless thou takest my life as + its pledge, maid of Laughton?” + </p> + <p> + And very much tired of standing, Charley Vernon drew her gently to the + bench and seated himself by her side. Lucretia’s eyes were still downcast, + and she remained silent; Vernon, suppressing a yawn, felt that he was + bound to continue. There was nothing very formidable in Lucretia’s manner. + </p> + <p> + “‘Fore Gad!” thought he, “I suppose I must take the heiress after all; the + sooner ‘t is over, the sooner I can get back to Brook Street.” + </p> + <p> + “It is premature, my fair cousin,” said he, aloud,—“premature, after + less than a week’s visit, and only some fourteen or fifteen hours’ + permitted friendship and intimacy, to say what is uppermost in my + thoughts; but we spendthrifts are provokingly handsome! Sir Miles, your + good uncle, is pleased to forgive all my follies and faults upon one + condition,—that you will take on yourself the task to reform me. + Will you, my fair cousin? Such as I am, you behold me. I am no sinner in + the disguise of a saint. My fortune is spent, my health is not strong; but + a young widow’s is no mournful position. I am gay when I am well, + good-tempered when ailing. I never betrayed a trust,—can you trust + me with yourself?” + </p> + <p> + This was a long speech, and Charley Vernon felt pleased that it was over. + There was much in it that would have touched a heart even closed to him, + and a little genuine emotion had given light to his eyes, and color to his + cheek. Amidst all the ravages of dissipation, there was something + interesting in his countenance, and manly in his tone and his gesture. But + Lucretia was only sensible to one part of his confession,—her uncle + consented to his suit. This was all of which she desired to be assured, + and against this she now sought to screen herself. + </p> + <p> + “Your candour, Mr. Vernon,” she said, avoiding his eye, “deserves candour + in me; I cannot affect to misunderstand you. But you take me by surprise; + I was so unprepared for this. Give me time,—I must reflect.” + </p> + <p> + “Reflection is dull work in the country; you can reflect more amusingly in + town, my fair cousin.” + </p> + <p> + “I will wait, then, till I find myself in town.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you make me the happiest, the most grateful of men,” cried Mr. + Vernon, rising, with a semi-genuflection which seemed to imply, “Consider + yourself knelt to,”—just as a courteous assailer, with a motion of + the hand, implies, “Consider yourself horsewhipped.” + </p> + <p> + Lucretia, who, with all her intellect, had no capacity for humour, + recoiled, and looked up in positive surprise. + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand you, Mr. Vernon,” she said, with austere gravity. + </p> + <p> + “Allow me the bliss of flattering myself that you, at least, are + understood,” replied Charley Vernon, with imperturbable assurance. “You + will wait to reflect till you are in town,—that is to say, the day + after our honeymoon, when you awake in Mayfair.” + </p> + <p> + Before Lucretia could reply, she saw the indefatigable valet formally + approaching, with the anticipated message that Sir Miles requested to see + her. She replied hurriedly to this last, that she would be with her uncle + immediately; and when he had again disappeared within the porch, she said, + with a constrained effort at frankness,— + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Vernon, if I have misunderstood your words, I think I do not mistake + your character. You cannot wish to take advantage of my affection for my + uncle, and the passive obedience I owe to him, to force me into a step of + which—of which—I have not yet sufficiently considered the + results. If you really desire that my feelings should be consulted, that I + should not—pardon me—consider myself sacrificed to the family + pride of my guardian and the interests of my suitor—” + </p> + <p> + “Madam!” exclaimed Vernon, reddening. + </p> + <p> + Pleased with the irritating effect her words had produced, Lucretia + continued calmly, “If, in a word, I am to be a free agent in a choice on + which my happiness depends, forbear to urge Sir Miles further at present; + forbear to press your suit upon me. Give me the delay of a few months; I + shall know how to appreciate your delicacy.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Clavering,” answered Vernon, with a touch of the St. John + haughtiness, “I am in despair that you should even think so grave an + appeal to my honour necessary. I am well aware of your expectations and my + poverty. And, believe me, I would rather rot in a prison than enrich + myself by forcing your inclinations. You have but to say the word, and I + will (as becomes me as a man and gentleman) screen you from all chance of + Sir Miles’s displeasure, by taking it on myself to decline an honour of + which I feel, indeed, very undeserving.” + </p> + <p> + “But I have offended you,” said Lucretia, softly, while she turned aside + to conceal the glad light of her eyes,—“pardon me; and to prove that + you do so, give me your arm to my uncle’s room.” + </p> + <p> + Vernon, with rather more of Sir Miles’s antiquated stiffness than his own + rakish ease, offered his arm, with a profound reverence, to his cousin, + and they took their way to the house. Not till they had passed up the + stairs, and were even in the gallery, did further words pass between them. + Then Vernon said,— + </p> + <p> + “But what is your wish, Miss Clavering? On what footing shall I remain + here?” + </p> + <p> + “Will you suffer me to dictate?” replied Lucretia, stopping short with + well-feigned confusion, as if suddenly aware that the right to dictate + gives the right to hope. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, consider me at least your slave!” whispered Vernon, as, his eye + resting on the contour of that matchless neck, partially and + advantageously turned from him, he began, with his constitutional + admiration of the sex, to feel interested in a pursuit that now seemed, + after piquing, to flatter his self-love. + </p> + <p> + “Then I will use the privilege when we meet again,” answered Lucretia; and + drawing her arm gently from his, she passed on to her uncle, leaving + Vernon midway in the gallery. + </p> + <p> + Those faded portraits looked down on her with that melancholy gloom which + the effigies of our dead ancestors seem mysteriously to acquire. To noble + and aspiring spirits, no homily to truth and honour and fair ambition is + more eloquent than the mute and melancholy canvas from which our fathers, + made, by death, our household gods, contemplate us still. They appear to + confide to us the charge of their unblemished names. They speak to us from + the grave, and heard aright, the pride of family is the guardian angel of + its heirs. But Lucretia, with her hard and scholastic mind, despised as + the veriest weakness all the poetry that belongs to the sense of a pure + descent. It was because she was proud as the proudest in herself that she + had nothing but contempt for the virtue, the valour, or the wisdom of + those that had gone before. So, with a brain busy with guile and + stratagem, she trod on, beneath the eyes of the simple and spotless Dead. + </p> + <p> + Vernon, thus left alone, mused a few moments on what had passed between + himself and the heiress; and then, slowly retracing his steps, his eye + roved along the stately series of his line. “Faith!” he muttered, “if my + boyhood had been passed in this old gallery, his Royal Highness would have + lost a good fellow and hard drinker, and his Majesty would have had + perhaps a more distinguished soldier,—certainly a worthier subject. + If I marry this lady, and we are blessed with a son, he shall walk through + this gallery once a day before he is flogged into Latin!” + </p> + <p> + Lucretia’s interview with her uncle was a masterpiece of art. What pity + that such craft and subtlety were wasted in our little day, and on such + petty objects; under the Medici, that spirit had gone far to the shaping + of history. Sure, from her uncle’s openness, that he would plunge at once + into the subject for which she deemed she was summoned, she evinced no + repugnance when, tenderly kissing her, he asked if Charles Vernon had a + chance of winning favour in her eyes. She knew that she was safe in saying + “No;” that her uncle would never force her inclinations,—safe so far + as Vernon was concerned; but she desired more: she desired thoroughly to + quench all suspicion that her heart was pre-occupied; entirely to remove + from Sir Miles’s thoughts the image of Mainwaring; and a denial of one + suitor might quicken the baronet’s eyes to the concealment of the other. + Nor was this all; if Sir Miles was seriously bent upon seeing her settled + in marriage before his death, the dismissal of Vernon might only expose + her to the importunity of new candidates more difficult to deal with. + Vernon himself she could use as the shield against the arrows of a host. + Therefore, when Sir Miles repeated his question, she answered, with much + gentleness and seeming modest sense, that Mr. Vernon had much that must + prepossess in his favour; that in addition to his own advantages he had + one, the highest in her eyes,—her uncle’s sanction and approval. But—and + she hesitated with becoming and natural diffidence—were not his + habits unfixed and roving? So it was said; she knew not herself,—she + would trust her happiness to her uncle. But if so, and if Mr. Vernon were + really disposed to change, would it not be prudent to try him,—try + him where there was temptation, not in the repose of Laughton, but amidst + his own haunts of London? Sir Miles had friends who would honestly inform + him of the result. She did but suggest this; she was too ready to leave + all to her dear guardian’s acuteness and experience. + </p> + <p> + Melted by her docility, and in high approval of the prudence which + betokened a more rational judgment than he himself had evinced, the good + old man clasped her to his breast and shed tears as he praised and thanked + her. She had decided, as she always did, for the best; Heaven forbid that + she should be wasted on an incorrigible man of pleasure! “And,” said the + frank-hearted gentleman, unable long to keep any thought concealed,—“and + to think that I could have wronged you for a moment, my own noble child; + that I could have been dolt enough to suppose that the good looks of that + boy Mainwaring might have caused you to forget what—But you change + colour!”—for, with all her dissimulation, Lucretia loved too + ardently not to shrink at that name thus suddenly pronounced. “Oh,” + continued the baronet, drawing her still nearer towards him, while with + one hand he put back her face, that he might read its expression the more + closely,—“oh, if it had been so,—if it be so, I will pity, not + blame you, for my neglect was the fault: pity you, for I have known a + similar struggle; admire you in pity, for you have the spirit of your + ancestors, and you will conquer the weakness. Speak! have I touched on the + truth? Speak without fear, child,—you have no mother; but in age a + man sometimes gets a mother’s heart.” + </p> + <p> + Startled and alarmed as the lark when the step nears its nest, Lucretia + summoned all the dark wile of her nature to mislead the intruder. “No, + uncle, no; I am not so unworthy. You misconceived my emotion.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you know that he has had the presumption to love you,—the + puppy!—and you feel the compassion you women always feel for such + offenders? Is that it?” + </p> + <p> + Rapidly Lucretia considered if it would be wise to leave that impression + on his mind. On one hand, it might account for a moment’s agitation; and + if Mainwaring were detected hovering near the domain, in the exchange of + their correspondence, it might appear but the idle, if hopeless, romance + of youth, which haunts the mere home of its object,—but no; on the + other hand, it left his banishment absolute and confirmed. Her resolution + was taken with a promptitude that made her pause not perceptible. + </p> + <p> + “No, my dear uncle,” she said, so cheerfully that it removed all doubt + from the mind of her listener; “but M. Dalibard has rallied me on the + subject, and I was so angry with him that when you touched on it, I + thought more of my quarrel with him than of poor timid Mr. Mainwaring + himself. Come, now, own it, dear sir! M. Dalibard has instilled this + strange fancy into your head?” + </p> + <p> + “No, ‘S life; if he had taken such a liberty, I should have lost my + librarian. No, I assure you, it was rather Vernon; you know true love is + jealous.” + </p> + <p> + “Vernon!” thought Lucretia; “he must go, and at once.” Sliding from her + uncle’s arms to the stool at his feet, she then led the conversation more + familiarly back into the channel it had lost; and when at last she + escaped, it was with the understanding that, without promise or + compromise, Mr. Vernon should return to London at once, and be put upon + the ordeal through which she felt assured it was little likely he should + pass with success. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. GUY’S OAK. + </h2> + <p> + Three weeks afterwards, the life at Laughton seemed restored to the + cheerful and somewhat monotonous tranquillity of its course, before chafed + and disturbed by the recent interruptions to the stream. Vernon had + departed, satisfied with the justice of the trial imposed on him, and far + too high-spirited to seek to extort from niece or uncle any engagement + beyond that which, to a nice sense of honour, the trial itself imposed. + His memory and his heart were still faithful to Mary; but his senses, his + fancy, his vanity, were a little involved in his success with the heiress. + Though so free from all mercenary meanness, Mr. Vernon was still enough + man of the world to be sensible of the advantages of the alliance which + had first been pressed on him by Sir Miles, and from which Lucretia + herself appeared not to be averse. The season of London was over, but + there was always a set, and that set the one in which Charley Vernon + principally moved, who found town fuller than the country. Besides, he + went occasionally to Brighton, which was then to England what Baiae was to + Rome. The prince was holding gay court at the Pavilion, and that was the + atmosphere which Vernon was habituated to breathe. He was no parasite of + royalty; he had that strong personal affection to the prince which it is + often the good fortune of royalty to attract. Nothing is less founded than + the complaint which poets put into the lips of princes, that they have no + friends,—it is, at least, their own perverse fault if that be the + case; a little amiability, a little of frank kindness, goes so far when it + emanates from the rays of a crown. But Vernon was stronger than Lucretia + deemed him; once contemplating the prospect of a union which was to + consign to his charge the happiness of another, and feeling all that he + should owe in such a marriage to the confidence both of niece and uncle, + he evinced steadier principles than he had ever made manifest when he had + only his own fortune to mar, and his own happiness to trifle with. He + joined his old companions, but he kept aloof from their more dissipated + pursuits. Beyond what was then thought the venial error of too devout + libations to Bacchus, Charley Vernon seemed reformed. + </p> + <p> + Ardworth had joined a regiment which had departed for the field of action. + Mainwaring was still with his father, and had not yet announced to Sir + Miles any wish or project for the future. + </p> + <p> + Olivier Dalibard, as before, passed his mornings alone in his chamber,—his + noons and his evenings with Sir Miles. He avoided all private conferences + with Lucretia. She did not provoke them. Young Gabriel amused himself in + copying Sir Miles’s pictures, sketching from Nature, scribbling in his + room prose or verse, no matter which (he never showed his lucubrations), + pinching the dogs when he could catch them alone, shooting the cats, if + they appeared in the plantation, on pretence of love for the young + pheasants, sauntering into the cottages, where he was a favourite because + of his good looks, but where he always contrived to leave the trace of his + visits in disorder and mischief, upsetting the tea-kettle and scalding the + children, or, what he loved dearly, setting two gossips by the ears. But + these occupations were over by the hour Lucretia left her apartment. From + that time he never left her out of view; and when encouraged to join her + at his usual privileged times, whether in the gardens at sunset or in her + evening niche in the drawing-room, he was sleek, silken, and caressing as + Cupid, after plaguing the Nymphs, at the feet of Psyche. These two strange + persons had indeed apparently that sort of sentimental familiarity which + is sometimes seen between a fair boy and a girl much older than himself; + but the attraction that drew them together was an indefinable instinct of + their similarity in many traits of their several characters,—the + whelp leopard sported fearlessly around the she-panther. Before Olivier’s + midnight conference with his son, Gabriel had drawn close and closer to + Lucretia, as an ally against his father; for that father he cherished + feelings which, beneath the most docile obedience, concealed horror and + hate, and something of the ferocity of revenge. And if young Varney loved + any one on earth except himself, it was Lucretia Clavering. She had + administered to his ruling passions, which were for effect and display; + she had devised the dress which set off to the utmost his exterior, and + gave it that picturesque and artistic appearance which he had sighed for + in his study of the portraits of Titian and Vandyke. She supplied him (for + in money she was generous) with enough to gratify and forestall every + boyish caprice; and this liberality now turned against her, for it had + increased into a settled vice his natural taste for extravagance, and made + all other considerations subordinate to that of feeding his cupidity. She + praised his drawings, which, though self-taught, were indeed + extraordinary, predicted his fame as an artist, lifted him into + consequence amongst the guests by her notice and eulogies, and what, + perhaps, won him more than all, he felt that it was to her—to + Dalibard’s desire to conceal before her his more cruel propensities—that + he owed his father’s change from the most refined severity to the most + paternal gentleness. + </p> + <p> + And thus he had repaid her, as she expected, by a devotion which she + trusted to employ against her tutor himself, should the baffled aspirant + become the scheming rival and the secret foe. But now,—thoroughly + aware of the gravity of his father’s objects, seeing before him the chance + of a settled establishment at Laughton, a positive and influential + connection with Lucretia; and on the other hand a return to the poverty he + recalled with disgust, and the terrors of his father’s solitary malice and + revenge,—he entered fully into Dalibard’s sombre plans, and without + scruple or remorse, would have abetted any harm to his benefactress. Thus + craft, doomed to have accomplices in craft, resembles the spider, whose + web, spread indeed for the fly, attracts the fellow-spider that shall + thrust it forth, and profit by the meshes it has woven for a victim, to + surrender to a master. + </p> + <p> + Already young Varney, set quietly and ceaselessly to spy every movement of + Lucretia’s, had reported to his father two visits to the most retired part + of the park; but he had not yet ventured near enough to discover the exact + spot, and his very watch on Lucretia had prevented the detection of + Mainwaring himself in his stealthy exchange of correspondence. Dalibard + bade him continue his watch, without hinting at his ulterior intentions, + for, indeed, in these he was not decided. Even should he discover any + communication between Lucretia and Mainwaring, how reveal it to Sir Miles + without forever precluding himself from the chance of profiting by the + betrayal? Could Lucretia ever forgive the injury, and could she fail to + detect the hand that inflicted it? His only hope was in the removal of + Mainwaring from his path by other agencies than his own, and (by an + appearance of generosity and self-abandonment, in keeping her secret and + submitting to his fate) he trusted to regain the confidence she now + withheld from him, and use it to his advantage when the time came to + defend himself from Vernon. For he had learned from Sir Miles the passive + understanding with respect to that candidate for her hand; and he felt + assured that had Mainwaring never existed, could he cease to exist for her + hopes, Lucretia, despite her dissimulation, would succumb to one she + feared but respected, rather than one she evidently trifled with and + despised. + </p> + <p> + “But the course to be taken must be adopted after the evidence is + collected,” thought the subtle schemer, and he tranquilly continued his + chess with the baronet. + </p> + <p> + Before, however, Gabriel could make any further discoveries, an event + occurred which excited very different emotions amongst those it more + immediately interested. + </p> + <p> + Sir Miles had, during the last twelve months, been visited by two + seizures, seemingly of an apoplectic character. Whether they were + apoplexy, or the less alarming attacks that arise from some more gentle + congestion, occasioned by free living and indolent habits, was matter of + doubt with his physician,—not a very skilful, though a very formal, + man. Country doctors were not then the same able, educated, and scientific + class that they are now rapidly becoming. Sir Miles himself so stoutly and + so eagerly repudiated the least hint of the more unfavourable + interpretation that the doctor, if not convinced by his patient, was awed + from expressing plainly a contrary opinion. There are certain persons who + will dismiss their physician if he tells them the truth: Sir Miles was one + of them. + </p> + <p> + In his character there was a weakness not uncommon to the proud. He did + not fear death, but he shrank from the thought that others should + calculate on his dying. He was fond of his power, though he exercised it + gently: he knew that the power of wealth and station is enfeebled in + proportion as its dependants can foresee the date of its transfer. He + dreaded, too, the comments which are always made on those visited by his + peculiar disease: “Poor Sir Miles! an apoplectic fit. His intellect must + be very much shaken; he revoked at whist last night,—memory sadly + impaired!” This may be a pitiable foible; but heroes and statesmen have + had it most: pardon it in the proud old man! He enjoined the physician to + state throughout the house and the neighbourhood that the attacks were + wholly innocent and unimportant. The physician did so, and was generally + believed; for Sir Miles seemed as lively and as vigorous after them as + before. Two persons alone were not deceived,—Dalibard and Lucretia. + The first, at an earlier part of his life, had studied pathology with the + profound research and ingenious application which he brought to bear upon + all he undertook. He whispered from the first to Lucretia,—“Unless + your uncle changes his habits, takes exercise, and forbears wine and the + table, his days are numbered.” + </p> + <p> + And when this intelligence was first conveyed to her, before she had + become acquainted with Mainwaring, Lucretia felt the shock of a grief + sudden and sincere. We have seen how these better sentiments changed as + human life became an obstacle in her way. In her character, what + phrenologists call “destructiveness,” in the comprehensive sense of the + word, was superlatively developed. She had not actual cruelty; she was not + bloodthirsty: those vices belong to a different cast of character. She was + rather deliberately and intellectually unsparing. A goal was before her; + she must march to it: all in the way were but hostile impediments. At + first, however, Sir Miles was not in the way, except to fortune, and for + that, as avarice was not her leading vice, she could well wait; therefore, + at this hint of the Provencal’s she ventured to urge her uncle to + abstinence and exercise. But Sir Miles was touchy on the subject; he + feared the interpretations which great change of habits might suggest. The + memory of the fearful warning died away, and he felt as well as before; + for, save an old rheumatic gout (which had long since left him with no + other apparent evil but a lameness in the joints that rendered exercise + unwelcome and painful), he possessed one of those comfortable, and often + treacherous, constitutions which evince no displeasure at irregularities, + and bear all liberties with philosophical composure. Accordingly, he would + have his own way; and he contrived to coax or to force his doctor into an + authority on his side: wine was necessary to his constitution; much + exercise was a dangerous fatigue. The second attack, following four months + after the first, was less alarming, and Sir Miles fancied it concealed + even from his niece; but three nights after his recovery, the old baronet + sat musing alone for some time in his own room before he retired to rest. + Then he rose, opened his desk, and read his will attentively, locked it up + with a slight sigh, and took down his Bible. The next morning he + despatched the letters which summoned Ardworth and Vernon to his house; + and as he quitted his room, his look lingered with melancholy fondness + upon the portraits in the gallery. No one was by the old man to interpret + these slight signs, in which lay a world of meaning. + </p> + <p> + A few weeks after Vernon had left the house, and in the midst of the + restored tranquillity we have described, it so happened that Sir Miles’s + physician, after dining at the Hall, had been summoned to attend one of + the children at the neighbouring rectory; and there he spent the night. A + little before daybreak his slumbers were disturbed; he was recalled in all + haste to Laughton Hall. For the third time, he found Sir Miles speechless. + Dalibard was by his bedside. Lucretia had not been made aware of the + seizure; for Sir Miles had previously told his valet (who of late slept in + the same room) never to alarm Miss Clavering if he was taken ill. The + doctor was about to apply his usual remedies; but when he drew forth his + lancet, Dalibard placed his hand on the physician’s arm. + </p> + <p> + “Not this time,” he said slowly, and with emphasis; “it will be his + death.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh, sir!” said the doctor, disdainfully. + </p> + <p> + “Do so, then; bleed him, and take the responsibility. I have studied + medicine,—I know these symptoms. In this case the apoplexy may + spare,—the lancet kills.” + </p> + <p> + The physician drew back dismayed and doubtful. + </p> + <p> + “What would you do, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Wait three minutes longer the effect of the cataplasms I have applied. If + they fail—” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, then?” + </p> + <p> + “A chill bath and vigorous friction.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir, I will never permit it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then murder your patient your own way.” + </p> + <p> + All this while Sir Miles lay senseless, his eyes wide open, his teeth + locked. The doctor drew near, looked at the lancet, and said irresolutely,— + </p> + <p> + “Your practice is new to me; but if you have studied medicine, that’s + another matter. Will you guarantee the success of your plan?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Mind, I wash my hands of it; I take Mr. Jones to witness;” and he + appealed to the valet. + </p> + <p> + “Call up the footman and lift your master,” said Dalibard; and the doctor, + glancing round, saw that a bath, filled some seven or eight inches deep + with water, stood already prepared in the room. Perplexed and irresolute, + he offered no obstacle to Dalibard’s movements. The body, seemingly + lifeless, was placed in the bath; and the servants, under Dalibard’s + directions, applied vigorous and incessant friction. Several minutes + elapsed before any favourable symptom took place. At length Sir Miles + heaved a deep sigh, and the eyes moved; a minute or two more, and the + teeth chattered; the blood, set in motion, appeared on the surface of the + skin; life ebbed back. The danger was passed, the dark foe driven from the + citadel. Sir Miles spoke audibly, though incoherently, as he was taken + back to his bed, warmly covered up, the lights removed, noise forbidden, + and Dalibard and the doctor remained in silence by the bedside. + </p> + <p> + “Rich man,” thought Dalibard, “thine hour is not yet come; thy wealth must + not pass to the boy Mainwaring.” Sir Miles’s recovery, under the care of + Dalibard, who now had his own way, was as rapid and complete as before. + Lucretia when she heard, the next morning, of the attack, felt, we dare + not say a guilty joy, but a terrible and feverish agitation. Sir Miles + himself, informed by his valet of Dalibard’s wrestle with the doctor, felt + a profound gratitude and reverent wonder for the simple means to which he + probably owed his restoration; and he listened, with a docility which + Dalibard was not prepared to expect, to his learned secretary’s urgent + admonitions as to the life he must lead if he desired to live at all. + Convinced, at last, that wine and good cheer had not blockaded out the + enemy, and having to do, in Olivier Dalibard, with a very different temper + from the doctor’s, he assented with a tolerable grace to the trial of a + strict regimen and to daily exercise in the open air. Dalibard now became + constantly with him; the increase of his influence was as natural as it + was apparent. Lucretia trembled; she divined a danger in his power, now + separate from her own, and which threatened to be independent of it. She + became abstracted and uneasy; jealousy of the Provencal possessed her. She + began to meditate schemes for his downfall. At this time, Sir Miles + received the following letter from Mr. Fielden:— + </p> + <p> + SOUTHAMPTON, Aug. 20, 1801. + </p> + <p> + DEAR SIR MILES,—You will remember that I informed you when I arrived + at Southampton with my dear young charge; and Susan has twice written to + her sister, implying the request which she lacked the courage, seeing that + she is timid, expressly to urge, that Miss Clavering might again be + permitted to visit her. Miss Clavering has answered as might be expected + from the propinquity of the relationship; but she has perhaps the same + fears of offending you that actuate her sister. But now, since the worthy + clergyman who had undertaken my parochial duties has found the air + insalubrious, and prays me not to enforce the engagement by which we had + exchanged our several charges for the space of a calendar year, I am + reluctantly compelled to return home,—my dear wife, thank Heaven, + being already restored to health, which is an unspeakable mercy; and I am + sure I cannot be sufficiently grateful to Providence, which has not only + provided me with a liberal independence of more than 200 pounds a year, + but the best of wives and the most dutiful of children,—possessions + that I venture to call “the riches of the heart.” Now, I pray you, my dear + Sir Miles, to gratify these two deserving young persons, and to suffer + Miss Lucretia incontinently to visit her sister. Counting on your consent, + thus boldly demanded, I have already prepared an apartment for Miss + Clavering; and Susan is busy in what, though I do not know much of such + feminine matters, the whole house declares to be a most beautiful and + fanciful toilet-cover, with roses and forget-me-nots cut out of muslin, + and two large silk tassels, which cost her three shillings and fourpence. + I cannot conclude without thanking you from my heart for your noble + kindness to young Ardworth. He is so full of ardour and spirit that I + remember, poor lad, when I left him, as I thought, hard at work on that + well-known problem of Euclid vulgarly called the Asses’ Bridge,—I + found him describing a figure of 8 on the village pond, which was only + just frozen over! Poor lad! Heaven will take care of him, I know, as it + does of all who take no care of themselves. Ah, Sir Miles, if you could + but see Susan,—such a nurse, too, in illness! I have the honour to + be, Sir Miles, + </p> + <p> + Your most humble, poor servant, to command, + </p> + <p> + MATTHEW FIELDEN. + </p> + <p> + Sir Miles put this letter in his niece’s hand, and said kindly, “Why not + have gone to see your sister before? I should not have been angry. Go, my + child, as soon as you like. To-morrow is Sunday,—no travelling that + day; but the next, the carriage shall be at your order.” + </p> + <p> + Lucretia hesitated a moment. To leave Dalibard in sole possession of the + field, even for a few days, was a thought of alarm; but what evil could he + do in that time? And her pulse beat quickly: Mainwaring could come to + Southampton; she should see him again, after more than six weeks’ absence! + She had so much to relate and to hear; she fancied his last letter had + been colder and shorter; she yearned to hear him say, with his own lips, + that he loved her still. This idea banished or prevailed over all others. + She thanked her uncle cheerfully and gayly, and the journey was settled. + </p> + <p> + “Be at watch early on Monday,” said Olivier to his son. + </p> + <p> + Monday came; the baronet had ordered the carriage to be at the door at + ten. A little before eight, Lucretia stole out, and took her way to Guy’s + Oak. Gabriel had placed himself in readiness; he had climbed a tree at the + bottom of the park (near the place where hitherto he had lost sight of + her); she passed under it,—on through a dark grove of pollard oaks. + When she was at a sufficient distance, the boy dropped from his perch; + with the stealth of an Indian he crept on her trace, following from tree + to tree, always sheltered, always watchful. He saw her pause at the dell + and look round; she descended into the hollow; he slunk through the fern; + he gained the marge of the dell, and looked down,—she was lost to + his sight. At length, to his surprise, he saw the gleam of her robe emerge + from the hollow of a tree,—her head stooped as she came through the + aperture; he had time to shrink back amongst the fern; she passed on + hurriedly, the same way she had taken, back to the house; then into the + dell crept the boy. Guy’s Oak, vast and venerable, with gnarled green + boughs below, and sere branches above, that told that its day of fall was + decreed at last, rose high from the abyss of the hollow, high and far-seen + amidst the trees that stood on the vantage-ground above,—even as a + great name soars the loftier when it springs from the grave. A dark and + irregular fissure gave entrance to the heart of the oak. The boy glided in + and looked round; he saw nothing, yet something there must be. The rays of + the early sun did not penetrate into the hollow, it was as dim as a cave. + He felt slowly in every crevice, and a startled moth or two flew out. It + was not for moths that the girl had come to Guy’s Oak! He drew back, at + last, in despair; as he did so, he heard a low sound close at hand,—a + low, murmuring, angry sound, like a hiss; he looked round, and through the + dark, two burning eyes fixed his own: he had startled a snake from its + bed. He drew out in time, as the reptile sprang; but now his task, search, + and object were forgotten. With the versatility of a child, his thoughts + were all on the enemy he had provoked. That zest of prey which is inherent + in man’s breast, which makes him love the sport and the chase, and maddens + boyhood and age with the passion for slaughter, leaped up within him; + anything of danger and contest and excitement gave Gabriel Varney a + strange fever of pleasure. He sprang up the sides of the dell, climbed the + park pales on which it bordered, was in the wood where the young shoots + rose green and strong from the underwood. To cut a staff for the strife, + to descend again into the dell, creep again through the fissure, look + round for those vengeful eyes, was quick done as the joyous play of the + impulse. The poor snake had slid down in content and fancied security; its + young, perhaps, were not far off; its wrath had been the instinct Nature + gives to the mother. It hath done thee no harm yet, boy; leave it in + peace! The young hunter had no ear to such whisper of prudence or mercy. + Dim and blind in the fissure, he struck the ground and the tree with his + stick, shouted out, bade the eyes gleam, and defied them. Whether or not + the reptile had spent its ire in the first fruitless spring, and this + unlooked-for return of the intruder rather daunted than exasperated, we + leave those better versed in natural history to conjecture; but instead of + obeying the challenge and courting the contest, it glided by the sides of + the oak, close to the very feet of its foe, and emerging into the light, + dragged its gray coils through the grass; but its hiss still betrayed it. + Gabriel sprang through the fissure and struck at the craven, insulting it + with a laugh of scorn as he struck. Suddenly it halted, suddenly reared + its crest; the throat swelled with venom, the tongue darted out, and + again, green as emeralds, glared the spite of its eyes. No fear felt + Gabriel Varney; his arm was averted; he gazed, spelled and admiringly, + with the eye of an artist. Had he had pencil and tablet at that moment, he + would have dropped his weapon for the sketch, though the snake had been as + deadly as the viper of Sumatra. The sight sank into his memory, to be + reproduced often by the wild, morbid fancies of his hand. Scarce a moment, + however, had he for the gaze; the reptile sprang, and fell, baffled and + bruised by the involuntary blow of its enemy. As it writhed on the grass, + how its colours came out; how graceful were the movements of its pain! And + still the boy gazed, till the eye was sated and the cruelty returned. A + blow, a second, a third,—all the beauty is gone; shapeless, and + clotted with gore, that elegant head; mangled and dissevered the airy + spires of that delicate shape, which had glanced in its circling + involutions, free and winding as a poet’s thought through his verse. The + boy trampled the quivering relics into the sod, with a fierce animal joy + of conquest, and turned once more towards the hollow, for a last almost + hopeless survey. Lo, his object was found! In his search for the snake, + either his staff or his foot had disturbed a layer of moss in the corner; + the faint ray, ere he entered the hollow, gleamed upon something white. He + emerged from the cavity with a letter in his hand; he read the address, + thrust it into his bosom, and as stealthily, but more rapidly, than he had + come, took his way to his father. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. HOUSEHOLD TREASON. + </h2> + <p> + The Provencal took the letter from his son’s hand, and looked at him with + an approbation half-complacent, half-ironical. “Mon fils!” said he, + patting the boy’s head gently, “why should we not be friends? We want each + other; we have the strong world to fight against.” + </p> + <p> + “Not if you are master of this place.” + </p> + <p> + “Well answered,—no; then we shall have the strong world on our side, + and shall have only rogues and the poor to make war upon.” Then, with a + quiet gesture, he dismissed his son, and gazed slowly on the letter. His + pulse, which was usually low, quickened, and his lips were tightly + compressed; he shrank from the contents with a jealous pang; as a light + quivers strugglingly in a noxious vault, love descended into that hideous + breast, gleamed upon dreary horrors, and warred with the noxious + atmosphere: but it shone still. To this dangerous man, every art that + gives power to the household traitor was familiar: he had no fear that the + violated seals should betray the fraud which gave the contents to the eye + that, at length, steadily fell upon the following lines:— + </p> + <p> + DEAREST, AND EVER DEAREST,—Where art thou at this moment? What are + thy thoughts,—are they upon me? I write this at the dead of night. I + picture you to myself as my hand glides over the paper. I think I see you, + as you look on these words, and envy them the gaze of those dark eyes. + Press your lips to the paper. Do you feel the kiss that I leave there? + Well, well! it will not be for long now that we shall be divided. Oh, what + joy, when I think that I am about to see you! Two days more, at most + three, and we shall meet, shall we not? I am going to see my sister. I + subjoin my address. Come, come, come; I thirst to see you once more. And I + did well to say, “Wait, and be patient;” we shall not wait long: before + the year is out I shall be free. My uncle has had another and more deadly + attack. I see its trace in his face, in his step, in his whole form and + bearing. The only obstacle between us is fading away. Can I grieve when I + think it,—grieve when life with you spreads smiling beyond the old + man’s grave? And why should age, that has survived all passion, stand with + its chilling frown, and the miserable prejudices the world has not + conquered, but strengthened into a creed,—why should age stand + between youth and youth? I feel your mild eyes rebuke me as I write. But + chide me not that on earth I see only you. And it will be mine to give you + wealth and rank! Mine to see the homage of my own heart reflected from the + crowd who bow, not to the statue, but the pedestal. Oh, how I shall enjoy + your revenge upon the proud! For I have drawn no pastoral scenes in my + picture of the future. No; I see you leading senates, and duping fools. I + shall be by your side, your partner, step after step, as you mount the + height, for I am ambitious, you know, William; and not less because I + love,—rather ten thousand times more so. I would not have you born + great and noble, for what then could we look to,—what use all my + schemes, and my plans, and aspirings? Fortune, accident, would have taken + from us the great zest of life, which is desire. + </p> + <p> + When I see you, I shall tell you that I have some fears of Olivier + Dalibard; he has evidently some wily project in view. He, who never + interfered before with the blundering physician, now thrusts him aside, + affects to have saved the old man, attends him always. Dares he think to + win an influence, to turn against me,—against us? Happily, when I + shall come back, my uncle will probably be restored to the false strength + which deceives him; he will have less need of Dalibard; and then—then + let the Frenchman beware! I have already a plot to turn his schemes to his + own banishment. Come to Southampton, then, as soon as you can,—perhaps + the day you receive this; on Wednesday, at farthest. Your last letter + implies blame of my policy with respect to Vernon. Again I say, it is + necessary to amuse my uncle to the last. Before Vernon can advance a + claim, there will be weeping at Laughton. I shall weep, too, perhaps; but + there will be joy in those tears, as well as sorrow,—for then, when + I clasp thy hand, I can murmur, “It is mine at last, and forever!” + </p> + <p> + Adieu! No, not adieu,—to our meeting, my lover, my beloved! Thy + LUCRETIA. + </p> + <p> + An hour after Miss Clavering had departed on her visit, Dalibard returned + the letter to his son, the seal seemingly unbroken, and bade him replace + it in the hollow of the tree, but sufficiently in sight to betray itself + to the first that entered. He then communicated the plan he had formed for + its detection,—a plan which would prevent Lucretia ever suspecting + the agency of his son or himself; and this done, he joined Sir Miles in + the gallery. Hitherto, in addition to his other apprehensions in revealing + to the baronet Lucretia’s clandestine intimacy with Mainwaring, Dalibard + had shrunk from the thought that the disclosure would lose her the + heritage which had first tempted his avarice or ambition; but now his + jealous and his vindictive passions were aroused, and his whole plan of + strategy was changed. He must crush Lucretia, or she would crush him, as + her threats declared. To ruin her in Sir Miles’s eyes, to expel her from + his house, might not, after all, weaken his own position, even with regard + to power over herself. If he remained firmly established at Laughton, he + could affect intercession,—he could delay, at least, any precipitate + union with Mainwaring, by practising on the ambition which he still saw at + work beneath her love; he might become a necessary ally; and then—why, + then, his ironical smile glanced across his lips. But beyond this, his + quick eye saw fair prospects to self-interest: Lucretia banished; the + heritage not hers; the will to be altered; Dalibard esteemed indispensable + to the life of the baronet. Come, there was hope here,—not for the + heritage, indeed, but at least for a munificent bequest. + </p> + <p> + At noon, some visitors, bringing strangers from London whom Sir Miles had + invited to see the house (which was one of the lions of the neighbourhood, + though not professedly a show-place), were expected. Aware of this, + Dalibard prayed the baronet to rest quiet till his company arrived, and + then he said carelessly,— + </p> + <p> + “It will be a healthful diversion to your spirits to accompany them a + little in the park; you can go in your garden-chair; you will have new + companions to talk with by the way; and it is always warm and sunny at the + slope of the hill, towards the bottom of the park.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Miles assented cheerfully; the guests came, strolled over the house, + admired the pictures and the armour and the hall and the staircase, paid + due respect to the substantial old-fashioned luncheon, and then, + refreshed, and in great good-humour, acquiesced in Sir Miles’s proposition + to saunter through the park. + </p> + <p> + The poor baronet was more lively than usual. The younger people clustered + gayly round his chair (which was wheeled by his valet), smiling at his + jests and charmed with his courteous high-breeding. A little in the rear + walked Gabriel, paying special attention to the prettiest and merriest + girl of the company, who was a great favourite with Sir Miles,—perhaps + for those reasons. + </p> + <p> + “What a delightful old gentleman!” said the young lady. “How I envy Miss + Clavering such an uncle!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but you are a little out of favour to-day, I can tell you,” said + Gabriel, laughingly; “you were close by Sir Miles when we went through the + picture-gallery, and you never asked him the history of the old knight in + the buff doublet and blue sash.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me, what of that?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, that was brave Colonel Guy St. John, the Cavalier, the pride and + boast of Sir Miles; you know his weakness. He looked so displeased when + you said, ‘What a droll-looking figure!’ I was on thorns for you!” + </p> + <p> + “What a pity! I would not offend dear Sir Miles for the world.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it’s easy to make it up with him. Go and tell him that he must take + you to see Guy’s Oak, in the dell; that you have heard so much about it; + and when you get him on his hobby, it is hard if you can’t make your + peace.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I’ll certainly do it, Master Varney;” and the young lady lost no time + in obeying the hint. Gabriel had set other tongues on the same cry, so + that there was a general exclamation when the girl named the subject,—“Oh, + Guy’s Oak, by all means!” + </p> + <p> + Much pleased with the enthusiasm this memorial of his pet ancestor + produced, Sir Miles led the way to the dell, and pausing as he reached the + verge, said,— + </p> + <p> + “I fear I cannot do you the honours; it is too steep for my chair to + descend safely.” + </p> + <p> + Gabriel whispered the fair companion whose side he still kept to. + </p> + <p> + “Now, my dear Sir Miles,” cried the girl, “I positively won’t stir without + you; I am sure we could get down the chair without a jolt. Look there, how + nicely the ground slopes! Jane, Lucy, my dears, let us take charge of Sir + Miles. Now, then.” + </p> + <p> + The gallant old gentleman would have marched to the breach in such + guidance; he kissed the fair hands that lay so temptingly on his chair, + and then, rising with some difficulty, said,— + </p> + <p> + “No, my dears, you have made me so young again that I think I can walk + down the steep with the best of you.” + </p> + <p> + So, leaning partly on his valet, and by the help of the hands extended to + him, step after step, Sir Miles, with well-disguised effort, reached the + huge roots of the oak. + </p> + <p> + “The hollow then was much smaller,” said he, “so he was not so easily + detected as a man would be now, the damned crop-ears—I beg pardon, + my dears; the rascally rebels—poked their swords through the + fissure, and two went, one through his jerkin, one through his arm; but he + took care not to swear at the liberty, and they went away, not suspecting + him.” + </p> + <p> + While thus speaking, the young people were already playfully struggling + which should first enter the oak. Two got precedence, and went in and out, + one after the other. Gabriel breathed hard. “The blind owlets!” thought + he; “and I put the letter where a mole would have seen it!” + </p> + <p> + “You know the spell when you enter an oak-tree where the fairies have + been,” he whispered to the fair object of his notice. “You must turn round + three times, look carefully on the ground, and you will see the face you + love best. If I was but a little older, how I should pray—” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” said the girl, blushing, as she now slid through the crowd, + and went timidly in; presently she uttered a little exclamation. + </p> + <p> + The gallant Sir Miles stooped down to see what was the matter, and + offering his hand as she came out, was startled to see her holding a + letter. + </p> + <p> + “Only think what I have found!” said the girl. “What a strange place for a + post-office! Bless me! It is directed to Mr. Mainwaring!” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Mainwaring!” cried three or four voices; but the baronet’s was mute. + His eye recognized Lucretia’s hand; his tongue clove to the roof of his + mouth; the blood surged, like a sea, in his temples; his face became + purple. Suddenly Gabriel, peeping over the girl’s shoulder, snatched away + the letter. + </p> + <p> + “It is my letter,—it is mine! What a shame in Mainwaring not to have + come for it as he promised!” + </p> + <p> + Sir Miles looked round and breathed more freely. + </p> + <p> + “Yours, Master Varney!” said the young lady, astonished. “What can make + your letters to Mr. Mainwaring such a secret?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you’ll laugh at me; but—but—I wrote a poem on Guy’s Oak, + and Mr. Mainwaring promised to get it into the county paper for me; and as + he was to pass close by the park pales, through the wood yonder, on his + way to D—— last Saturday, we agreed that I should leave it + here; but he has forgotten his promise, I see.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Miles grasped the boy’s arm with a convulsive pressure of gratitude. + There was a general cry for Gabriel to read his poem on the spot; but the + boy looked sheepish, and hung down his head, and seemed rather more + disposed to cry than to recite. Sir Miles, with an effort at simulation + that all his long practice of the world never could have nerved him to, + unexcited by a motive less strong than the honour of his blood and house, + came to the relief of the young wit that had just come to his own. + </p> + <p> + “Nay,” he said, almost calmly, “I know our young poet is too shy to oblige + you. I will take charge of your verses, Master Gabriel;” and with a grave + air of command, he took the letter from the boy and placed it in his + pocket. + </p> + <p> + The return to the house was less gay than the visit to the oak. The + baronet himself made a feverish effort to appear blithe and debonair as + before; but it was not successful. Fortunately, the carriages were all at + the door as they reached the house, and luncheon being over, nothing + delayed the parting compliments of the guests. As the last carriage drove + away, Sir Miles beckoned to Gabriel, and bade him follow him into his + room. + </p> + <p> + When there, he dismissed his valet and said,— + </p> + <p> + “You know, then, who wrote this letter. Have you been in the secret of the + correspondence? Speak the truth, my dear boy; it shall cost you nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Sir Miles!” cried Gabriel, earnestly, “I know nothing whatever beyond + this,—that I saw the hand of my dear, kind Miss Lucretia; that I + felt, I hardly knew why, that both you and she would not have those people + discover it, which they would if the letter had been circulated from one + to the other, for some one would have known the hand as well as myself, + and therefore I spoke, without thinking, the first thing that came into my + head.” + </p> + <p> + “You—you have obliged me and my niece, sir,” said the baronet, + tremulously; and then, with a forced and sickly smile, he added: “Some + foolish vagary of Lucretia, I suppose; I must scold her for it. Say + nothing about it, however, to any one.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, my dear Gabriel!” + </p> + <p> + “And that boy saved the honour of my niece’s name,—my mother’s + grandchild! O God! this is bitter,—in my old age too!” + </p> + <p> + He bowed his head over his hands, and tears forced themselves through his + fingers. He was long before he had courage to read the letter, though he + little foreboded all the shock that it would give him. It was the first + letter, not destined to himself, of which he had ever broken the seal. + Even that recollection made the honourable old man pause; but his duty was + plain and evident, as head of the house and guardian to his niece. Thrice + he wiped his spectacles; still they were dim, still the tears would come. + He rose tremblingly, walked to the window, and saw the stately deer + grouped in the distance, saw the church spire that rose above the burial + vault of his ancestors, and his heart sank deeper and deeper as he + muttered: “Vain pride! pride!” Then he crept to the door and locked it, + and at last, seating himself firmly, as a wounded man to some terrible + operation, he read the letter. + </p> + <p> + Heaven support thee, old man! thou hast to pass through the bitterest + trial which honour and affection can undergo,—household treason. + When the wife lifts high the blushless front and brazens out her guilt; + when the child, with loud voice, throws off all control and makes boast of + disobedience,—man revolts at the audacity; his spirit arms against + his wrong: its face, at least, is bare; the blow, if sacrilegious, is + direct. But when mild words and soft kisses conceal the worst foe Fate can + arm; when amidst the confidence of the heart starts up the form of + Perfidy; when out from the reptile swells the fiend in its terror; when + the breast on which man leaned for comfort has taken counsel to deceive + him; when he learns that, day after day, the life entwined with his own + has been a lie and a stage-mime,—he feels not the softness of grief, + nor the absorption of rage; it is mightier than grief, and more withering + than rage,—it is a horror that appalls. The heart does not bleed, + the tears do not flow, as in woes to which humanity is commonly subjected; + it is as if something that violates the course of nature had taken place,—something + monstrous and out of all thought and forewarning; for the domestic traitor + is a being apart from the orbit of criminals: the felon has no fear of his + innocent children; with a price on his head, he lays it in safety on the + bosom of his wife. In his home, the ablest man, the most subtle and + suspecting, can be as much a dupe as the simplest. Were it not so as the + rule, and the exceptions most rare, this world were the riot of a hell! + </p> + <p> + And therefore it is that to the household perfidy, in all lands, in all + ages, God’s curse seems to cleave, and to God’s curse man abandons it; he + does not honour it by hate, still less will he lighten and share the guilt + by descending to revenge. He turns aside with a sickness and loathing, and + leaves Nature to purify from the earth the ghastly phenomenon she abhors. + </p> + <p> + Old man, that she wilfully deceived thee, that she abused thy belief and + denied to thy question and profaned maidenhood to stealth,—all this + might have galled thee; but to these wrongs old men are subjected,—they + give mirth to our farces; maid and lover are privileged impostors. But to + have counted the sands in thine hour-glass, to have sat by thy side, + marvelling when the worms should have thee, and looked smiling on thy face + for the signs of the death-writ—Die quick, old man; the executioner + hungers for the fee! + </p> + <p> + There were no tears in those eyes when they came to the close; the letter + fell noiselessly to the floor, and the head sank on the breast, and the + hands drooped upon the poor crippled limbs, whose crawl in the sunshine + hard youth had grudged. He felt humbled, stunned, crushed; the pride was + clean gone from him; the cruel words struck home. Worse than a cipher, did + he then but cumber the earth? At that moment old Ponto, the setter, shook + himself, looked up, and laid his head in his master’s lap; and Dash, + jealous, rose also, and sprang, not actively, for Dash was old, too, upon + his knees, and licked the numbed, drooping hands. Now, people praise the + fidelity of dogs till the theme is worn out; but nobody knows what a dog + is, unless he has been deceived by men,—then, that honest face; + then, that sincere caress; then, that coaxing whine that never lied! Well, + then,—what then? A dog is long-lived if he live to ten years,—small + career this to truth and friendship! Now, when Sir Miles felt that he was + not deserted, and his look met those four fond eyes, fixed with that + strange wistfulness which in our hours of trouble the eyes of a dog + sympathizingly assume, an odd thought for a sensible man passed into him, + showing, more than pages of sombre elegy, how deep was the sudden + misanthropy that blackened the world around. “When I am dead,” ran that + thought, “is there one human being whom I can trust to take charge of the + old man’s dogs?” + </p> + <p> + So, let the scene close! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. THE WILL + </h2> + <p> + The next day, or rather the next evening, Sir Miles St. John was seated + before his unshared chicken,—seated alone, and vaguely surprised at + himself, in a large, comfortable room in his old hotel, Hanover Square. + Yes, he had escaped. Hast thou, O Reader, tasted the luxury of escape from + a home where the charm is broken,—where Distrust looks askant from + the Lares? In vain had Dalibard remonstrated, conjured up dangers, and + asked at least to accompany him. Excepting his dogs and his old valet, who + was too like a dog in his fond fidelity to rank amongst bipeds, Sir Miles + did not wish to have about him a single face familiar at Laughton, + Dalibard especially. Lucretia’s letter had hinted at plans and designs in + Dalibard. It might be unjust, it might be ungrateful; but he grew sick at + the thought that he was the centre-stone of stratagems and plots. The + smooth face of the Provencal took a wily expression in his eyes; nay, he + thought his very footmen watched his steps as if to count how long before + they followed his bier. So, breaking from all roughly, with a shake of his + head and a laconic assertion of business in London, he got into his + carriage,—his own old bachelor’s lumbering travelling-carriage,—and + bade the post-boys drive fast, fast! Then, when he felt alone,—quite + alone,—and the gates of the lodge swung behind him, he rubbed his + hands with a schoolboy’s glee, and chuckled aloud, as if he enjoyed, not + only the sense, but the fun of his safety; as if he had done something + prodigiously cunning and clever. + </p> + <p> + So when he saw himself snug in his old, well-remembered hotel, in the same + room as of yore, when returned, brisk and gay, from the breezes of + Weymouth or the brouillards of Paris, he thought he shook hands again with + his youth. Age and lameness, apoplexy and treason, all were forgotten for + the moment. And when, as the excitement died, those grim spectres came + back again to his thoughts, they found their victim braced and prepared, + standing erect on that hearth for whose hospitality he paid his guinea a + day,—his front proud and defying. He felt yet that he had fortune + and power, that a movement of his hand could raise and strike down, that + at the verge of the tomb he was armed, to punish or reward, with the + balance and the sword. Tripped in the smug waiter, and announced “Mr. + Parchmount.” + </p> + <p> + “Set a chair, and show him in.” The lawyer entered. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Sir Miles, this is indeed a surprise! What has brought you to + town?” + </p> + <p> + “The common whim of the old, sir. I would alter my will.” + </p> + <p> + Three days did lawyer and client devote to the task; for Sir Miles was + minute, and Mr. Parchmount was precise, and little difficulties arose, and + changes in the first outline were made, and Sir Miles, from the very depth + of his disgust, desired not to act only from passion. In that last deed of + his life, the old man was sublime. He sought to rise out of the mortal, + fix his eyes on the Great Judge, weigh circumstances and excuses, and keep + justice even and serene. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, unconscious of the train laid afar, Lucretia reposed on the + mine,—reposed, indeed, is not the word; for she was agitated and + restless that Mainwaring had not obeyed her summons. She wrote to him + again from Southampton the third day of her arrival; but before his answer + came she received this short epistle from London:— + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Parchmount presents his compliments to Miss Clavering, and, by desire + of Sir Miles St. John, requests her not to return to Laughton. Miss + Clavering will hear further in a few days, when Sir Miles has concluded + the business that has brought him to London.” + </p> + <p> + This letter, if it excited much curiosity, did not produce alarm. It was + natural that Sir Miles should be busy in winding up his affairs; his + journey to London for that purpose was no ill omen to her prospects, and + her thoughts flew back to the one subject that tyrannized over them. + Mainwaring’s reply, which came two days afterwards, disquieted her much + more. He had not found the letter she had left for him in the tree. He was + full of apprehensions; he condemned the imprudence of calling on her at + Mr. Fielden’s; he begged her to renounce the idea of such a risk. He would + return again to Guy’s Oak and search more narrowly: had she changed the + spot where the former letters were placed? Yet now, not even the + non-receipt of her letter, which she ascribed to the care with which she + had concealed it amidst the dry leaves and moss, disturbed her so much as + the evident constraint with which Mainwaring wrote,—the cautious and + lukewarm remonstrance which answered her passionate appeal. It may be that + her very doubts, at times, of Mainwaring’s affection had increased the + ardour of her own attachment; for in some natures the excitement of fear + deepens love more than the calmness of trust. Now with the doubt for the + first time flashed the resentment, and her answer to Mainwaring was + vehement and imperious. But the next day came a messenger express from + London, with a letter from Mr. Parchmount that arrested for the moment + even the fierce current of love. + </p> + <p> + When the task had been completed,—the will signed, sealed, and + delivered,—the old man had felt a load lifted from his heart. Three + or four of his old friends, bons vivants like himself, had seen his + arrival duly proclaimed in the newspapers, and had hastened to welcome + him. Warmed by the genial sight of faces associated with the frank joys of + his youth, Sir Miles, if he did not forget the prudent counsels of + Dalibard, conceived a proud bitterness of joy in despising them. Why take + such care of the worn-out carcass? His will was made. What was left to + life so peculiarly attractive? He invited his friends to a feast worthy of + old. Seasoned revellers were they, with a free gout for a vent to all + indulgence. So they came; and they drank, and they laughed, and they + talked back their young days. They saw not the nervous irritation, the + strain on the spirits, the heated membrane of the brain, which made Sir + Miles the most jovial of all. It was a night of nights; the old fellows + were lifted back into their chariots or sedans. Sir Miles alone seemed as + steady and sober as if he had supped with Diogenes. His servant, whose + respectful admonitions had been awed into silence, lent him his arm to + bed, but Sir Miles scarcely touched it. The next morning, when the servant + (who slept in the same room) awoke, to his surprise the glare of a candle + streamed on his eyes. He rubbed them: could he see right? Sir Miles was + seated at the table; he must have got up and lighted a candle to write,—noiselessly, + indeed. The servant looked and looked, and the stillness of Sir Miles awed + him: he was seated on an armchair, leaning back. As awe succeeded to + suspicion, he sprang up, approached his master, took his hand: it was + cold, and fell heavily from his clasp. Sir Miles must have been dead for + hours. + </p> + <p> + The pen lay on the ground, where it had dropped from the hand; the letter + on the table was scarcely commenced: the words ran thus,— + </p> + <p> + “LUCRETIA,—You will return no more to my house. You are free as if I + were dead; but I shall be just. Would that I had been so to your mother, + to your sister! But I am old now, as you say, and—” + </p> + <p> + To one who could have seen into that poor proud heart at the moment the + hand paused forever, what remained unwritten would have been clear. There + was, first, the sharp struggle to conquer loathing repugnance, and address + at all the false and degraded one; then came the sharp sting of + ingratitude; then the idea of the life grudged and the grave desired; then + the stout victory over scorn, the resolution to be just; then the reproach + of the conscience that for so far less an offence the sister had been + thrown aside, the comfort, perhaps, found in her gentle and neglected + child obstinately repelled; then the conviction of all earthly vanity and + nothingness,—the look on into life, with the chilling sentiment that + affection was gone, that he could never trust again, that he was too old + to open his arms to new ties; and then, before felt singly, all these + thoughts united, and snapped the cord. + </p> + <p> + In announcing his mournful intelligence, with more feeling than might have + been expected from a lawyer (but even his lawyer loved Sir Miles), Mr. + Parchmount observed that “as the deceased lay at a hotel, and as Miss + Clavering’s presence would not be needed in the performance of the last + rites, she would probably forbear the journey to town. Nevertheless, as it + was Sir Miles’s wish that the will should be opened as soon as possible + after his death, and it would doubtless contain instructions as to his + funeral, it would be well that Miss Clavering and her sister should + immediately depute some one to attend the reading of the testament on + their behalf. Perhaps Mr. Fielden would kindly undertake that melancholy + office.” + </p> + <p> + To do justice to Lucretia, it must be said that her first emotions, on the + receipt of this letter, were those of a poignant and remorseful grief, for + which she was unprepared. But how different it is to count on what shall + follow death, and to know that death has come! Susan’s sobbing sympathy + availed not, nor Mr. Fielden’s pious and tearful exhortations; her own + sinful thoughts and hopes came back to her, haunting and stern as furies. + She insisted at first upon going to London, gazing once more on the clay,—nay, + the carriage was at the door, for all yielded to her vehemence; but then + her heart misgave her: she did not dare to face the dead. Conscience waved + her back from the solemn offices of nature; she hid her face with her + hands, shrank again into her room; and Mr. Fielden, assuming unbidden the + responsibility, went alone. + </p> + <p> + Only Vernon (summoned from Brighton), the good clergyman, and the lawyer, + to whom, as sole executor, the will was addressed, and in whose custody it + had been left, were present when the seal of the testament was broken. The + will was long, as is common when the dust that it disposes of covers some + fourteen or fifteen thousand acres. But out of the mass of technicalities + and repetitions these points of interest rose salient: To Charles Vernon, + of Vernon Grange, Esq., and his heirs by him lawfully begotten, were left + all the lands and woods and manors that covered that space in the + Hampshire map known by the name of the “Laughton property,” on condition + that he and his heirs assumed the name and arms of St. John; and on the + failure of Mr. Vernon’s issue, the estate passed, first (with the same + conditions) to the issue of Susan Mivers; next to that of Lucretia + Clavering. There the entail ceased; and the contingency fell to the rival + ingenuity of lawyers in hunting out, amongst the remote and forgotten + descendants of some ancient St. John, the heir-at-law. To Lucretia + Clavering, without a word of endearment, was bequeathed 10,000 pounds,—the + usual portion which the house of St. John had allotted to its daughters; + to Susan Mivers the same sum, but with the addition of these words, + withheld from her sister: “and my blessing!” To Olivier Dalibard an + annuity of 200 pounds a year; to Honore Gabriel Varney, 3,000 pounds; to + the Rev. Matthew Fielden, 4,000 pounds; and the same sum to John Walter + Ardworth. To his favourite servant, Henry Jones, an ample provision, and + the charge of his dogs Dash and Ponto, with an allowance therefor, to be + paid weekly, and cease at their deaths. Poor old man! he made it the + interest of their guardian not to grudge their lease of life. To his other + attendants, suitable and munificent bequests, proportioned to the length + of their services. For his body, he desired it to be buried in the vault + of his ancestors without pomp, but without a pretence to a humility which + he had not manifested in life; and he requested that a small miniature in + his writing-desk should be placed in his coffin. That last injunction was + more than a sentiment,—it bespoke the moral conviction of the + happiness the original might have conferred on his life. Of that happiness + his pride had deprived him; nor did he repent, for he had deemed pride a + duty. But the mute likeness, buried in his grave,—that told the + might of the sacrifice he had made! Death removes all distinctions, and in + the coffin the Lord of Laughton might choose his partner. + </p> + <p> + When the will had been read, Mr. Parchmount produced two letters, one + addressed, in the hand of the deceased, to Mr. Vernon, the other in the + lawyer’s own hand to Miss Clavering. The last enclosed the fragment found + on Sir Miles’s table, and her own letter to Mainwaring, redirected to her + in Sir Miles’s boldest and stateliest autograph. He had, no doubt, meant + to return it in the letter left uncompleted. + </p> + <p> + The letter to Vernon contained a copy of Lucretia’s fatal epistle, and the + following lines to Vernon himself:— + </p> + <p> + MY DEAR CHARLES,—With much deliberation, and with natural reluctance + to reveal to you my niece’s shame, I feel it my duty to transmit to you + the accompanying enclosure, copied from the original with my own hand, + which the task sullied. + </p> + <p> + I do so first, because otherwise you might, as I should have done in your + place, feel bound in honour to persist in the offer of your hand,—feel + bound the more, because Miss Clavering is not my heiress; secondly, + because had her attachment been stronger than her interest, and she had + refused your offer, you might still have deemed her hardly and + capriciously dealt with by me, and not only sought to augment her portion, + but have profaned the house of my ancestors by receiving her there as an + honoured and welcome relative and guest. Now, Charles Vernon, I believe, + to the utmost of my poor judgment, I have done what is right and just. I + have taken into consideration that this young person has been brought up + as a daughter of my house, and what the daughters of my house have + received, I bequeath her. I put aside, as far as I can, all resentment of + mere family pride; I show that I do so, when I repair my harshness to my + poor sister, and leave both her children the same provision. And if you + exceed what I have done for Lucretia, unless, on more dispassionate + consideration than I can give, you conscientiously think me wrong, you + insult my memory—and impugn my justice. Be it in this as your + conscience dictates; but I entreat, I adjure, I command, at least that you + never knowingly admit by a hearth, hitherto sacred to unblemished truth + and honour, a person who has desecrated it with treason. As gentleman to + gentleman, I impose on you this solemn injunction. I could have wished to + leave that young woman’s children barred from the entail; but our old tree + has so few branches! You are unwedded; Susan too. I must take my chance + that Miss Clavering’s children, if ever they inherit, do not imitate the + mother. I conclude she will wed that Mainwaring; her children will have a + low-born father. Well, her race at least is pure,—Clavering and St. + John are names to guarantee faith and honour; yet you see what she is! + Charles Vernon, if her issue inherit the soul of gentlemen, it must come, + after all, not from the well-born mother! I have lived to say this,—I + who—But perhaps if we had looked more closely into the pedigree of + those Claverings—. + </p> + <p> + Marry yourself,—marry soon, Charles Vernon, my dear kinsman; keep + the old house in the old line, and true to its old fame. Be kind and good + to my poor; don’t strain on the tenants. By the way, Farmer Strongbow owes + three years’ rent,—I forgive him. Pension him off; he can do no good + to the land, but he was born on it, and must not fall on the parish. But + to be kind and good to the poor, not to strain the tenants, you must learn + not to waste, my dear Charles. A needy man can never be generous without + being unjust. How give, if you are in debt? You will think of this now,—now,—while + your good heart is soft, while your feelings are moved. Charley Vernon, I + think you will shed a tear when you see my armchair still and empty. And I + would have left you the care of my dogs, but you are thoughtless, and will + go much to London, and they are used to the country now. Old Jones will + have a cottage in the village,—he has promised to live there; drop + in now and then, and see poor Ponto and Dash. It is late, and old friends + come to dine here. So, if anything happens to me, and we don’t meet again, + good-by, and God bless you. + </p> + <p> + Your affectionate kinsman, MILES ST. JOHN. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. THE ENGAGEMENT. + </h2> + <p> + It is somewhat less than three months after the death of Sir Miles St. + John; November reigns in London. And “reigns” seems scarcely a + metaphorical expression as applied to the sullen, absolute sway which that + dreary month (first in the dynasty of Winter) spreads over the passive, + dejected city. + </p> + <p> + Elsewhere in England, November is no such gloomy, grim fellow as he is + described. Over the brown glebes and changed woods in the country, his + still face looks contemplative and mild; and he has soft smiles, too, at + times,—lighting up his taxed vassals the groves; gleaming where the + leaves still cling to the boughs, and reflected in dimples from the waves + which still glide free from his chains. But as a conqueror who makes his + home in the capital, weighs down with hard policy the mutinous citizens + long ere his iron influence is felt in the province, so the first tyrant + of Winter has only rigour and frowns for London. The very aspect of the + wayfarers has the look of men newly enslaved: cloaked and muffled, they + steal to and fro through the dismal fogs. Even the children creep timidly + through the streets; the carriages go cautious and hearse-like along; + daylight is dim and obscure; the town is not filled, nor the brisk mirth + of Christmas commenced; the unsocial shadows flit amidst the mist, like + men on the eve of a fatal conspiracy. Each other month in London has its + charms for the experienced. Even from August to October, when The Season + lies dormant, and Fashion forbids her sons to be seen within hearing of + Bow, the true lover of London finds pleasure still at hand, if he search + for her duly. There are the early walks through the parks and green + Kensington Gardens, which now change their character of resort, and seem + rural and countrylike, but yet with more life than the country; for on the + benches beneath the trees, and along the sward, and up the malls, are + living beings enough to interest the eye and divert the thoughts, if you + are a guesser into character, and amateur of the human face,—fresh + nursery-maid and playful children; and the old shabby-genteel, buttoned-up + officer, musing on half-pay, as he sits alone in some alcove of Kenna, or + leans pensive over the rail of the vacant Ring; and early tradesman, or + clerk from the suburban lodging, trudging brisk to his business,—for + business never ceases in London. Then at noon, what delight to escape to + the banks at Putney or Richmond,—the row up the river; the fishing + punt; the ease at your inn till dark! or if this tempt not, still Autumn + shines clear and calm over the roofs, where the smoke has a holiday; and + how clean gleam the vistas through the tranquillized thoroughfares; and as + you saunter along, you have all London to yourself, Andrew Selkirk, but + with the mart of the world for your desert. And when October comes on, it + has one characteristic of spring,—life busily returns to the city; + you see the shops bustling up, trade flowing back. As birds scent the + April, so the children of commerce plume their wings and prepare for the + first slack returns of the season. But November! Strange the taste, stout + the lungs, grief-defying the heart, of the visitor who finds charms and + joy in a London November. + </p> + <p> + In a small lodging-house in Bulstrode Street, Manchester Square, grouped a + family in mourning who had had the temerity to come to town in November, + for the purpose, no doubt, of raising their spirits. In the dull, small + drawing-room of the dull, small house we introduce to you, first, a + middle-aged gentleman whose dress showed what dress now fails to show,—his + profession. Nobody could mistake the cut of the cloth and the shape of the + hat, for he had just come in from a walk, and not from discourtesy, but + abstraction, the broad brim still shadowed his pleasant, placid face. + Parson spoke out in him, from beaver to buckle. By the coal fire, where, + through volumes of smoke, fussed and flickered a pretension to flame, sat + a middle-aged lady, whom, without being a conjurer, you would pronounce at + once to be wife to the parson; and sundry children sat on stools all about + her, with one book between them, and a low whispered murmur from their two + or three pursed-up lips, announcing that that book was superfluous. By the + last of three dim-looking windows, made dimmer by brown moreen draperies, + edged genteelly with black cotton velvet, stood a girl of very soft and + pensive expression of features,—pretty unquestionably, excessively + pretty; but there was something so delicate and elegant about her,—the + bend of her head, the shape of her slight figure, the little fair hands + crossed one on each other, as the face mournfully and listlessly turned to + the window, that “pretty” would have seemed a word of praise too often + proffered to milliner and serving-maid. Nevertheless, it was perhaps the + right one: “handsome” would have implied something statelier and more + commanding; “beautiful,” greater regularity of feature, or richness of + colouring. The parson, who since his entrance had been walking up and down + the small room with his hands behind him, glanced now and then at the + young lady, but not speaking, at length paused from that monotonous + exercise by the chair of his wife, and touched her shoulder. She stopped + from her work, which, more engrossing than elegant, was nothing less than + what is technically called “the taking in” of a certain blue jacket, which + was about to pass from Matthew, the eldest born, to David, the second, and + looked up at her husband affectionately. Her husband, however, spoke not; + he only made a sign, partly with his eyebrow, partly with a jerk of his + thumb over his right shoulder, in the direction of the young lady we have + described, and then completed the pantomime with a melancholy shake of the + head. The wife turned round and looked hard, the scissors horizontally + raised in one hand, while the other reposed on the cuff of the jacket. At + this moment a low knock was heard at the street-door. The worthy pair saw + the girl shrink back, with a kind of tremulous movement; presently there + came the sound of a footstep below, the creak of a hinge on the + ground-floor, and again all was silent. + </p> + <p> + “That is Mr. Mainwaring’s knock,” said one of the children. + </p> + <p> + The girl left the room abruptly, and, light as was her step, they heard + her steal up the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “My dears,” said the parson, “it wants an hour yet to dark; you may go and + walk in the square.” + </p> + <p> + “‘T is so dull in that ugly square, and they won’t let us into the green. + I am sure we’d rather stay here,” said one of the children, as spokesman + for the rest; and they all nestled closer round the hearth. + </p> + <p> + “But, my dears,” said the parson, simply, “I want to talk alone with your + mother. However, if you like best to go and keep quiet in your own room, + you may do so.” + </p> + <p> + “Or we can go into Susan’s?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the parson; “you must not disturb Susan.” + </p> + <p> + “She never used to care about being disturbed. I wonder what’s come to + her?” + </p> + <p> + The parson made no rejoinder to this half-petulant question. The children + consulted together a moment, and resolved that the square, though so dull, + was less dull than their own little attic. That being decided, it was the + mother’s turn to address them. And though Mr. Fielden was as anxious and + fond as most fathers, he grew a little impatient before comforters, + kerchiefs, and muffettees were arranged, and minute exordiums as to the + danger of crossing the street, and the risk of patting strange dogs, etc., + were half-way concluded; with a shrug and a smile, he at length fairly + pushed out the children, shut the door, and drew his chair close to his + wife’s. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” he began at once, “I am extremely uneasy about that poor girl.” + </p> + <p> + “What, Miss Clavering? Indeed, she eats almost nothing at all, and sits so + moping alone; but she sees Mr. Mainwaring every day. What can we do? She + is so proud, I’m afraid of her.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, I was not thinking of Miss Clavering, though I did not interrupt + you, for it is very true that she is much to be pitied.” + </p> + <p> + “And I am sure it was for her sake alone that you agreed to Susan’s + request, and got Blackman to do duty for you at the vicarage, while we all + came up here, in hopes London town would divert her. We left all at sixes + and sevens; and I should not at all wonder if John made away with the + apples.” + </p> + <p> + “But, I say,” resumed the parson, without heeding that mournful + foreboding,—“I say, I was then only thinking of Susan. You see how + pale and sad she is grown.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, she is so very soft-hearted, and she must feel for her sister.” + </p> + <p> + “But her sister, though she thinks much, and keeps aloof from us, is not + sad herself, only reserved. On the contrary. I believe she has now got + over even poor Sir Miles’s death.” + </p> + <p> + “And the loss of the great property!” + </p> + <p> + “Fie, Mary!” said Mr. Fielden, almost austerely. + </p> + <p> + Mary looked down, rebuked, for she was not one of the high-spirited wives + who despise their husbands for goodness. + </p> + <p> + “I beg pardon, my dear,” she said meekly; “it was very wrong in me; but I + cannot—do what I will—I cannot like that Miss Clavering.” + </p> + <p> + “The more need to judge her with charity. And if what I fear is the case, + I’m sure we can’t feel too much compassion for the poor blinded young + lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless my heart, Mr. Fielden, what is it you mean?” + </p> + <p> + The parson looked round, to be sure the door was quite closed, and + replied, in a whisper: “I mean, that I fear William Mainwaring loves, not + Lucretia, but Susan.” + </p> + <p> + The scissors fell from the hand of Mrs. Fielden; and though one point + stuck in the ground, and the other point threatened war upon flounces and + toes, strange to say, she did not even stoop to remove the + chevaux-de-frise. + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, he’s a most false-hearted young man!” + </p> + <p> + “To blame, certainly,” said Fielden; “I don’t say to the contrary,—though + I like the young man, and am sure that he’s more timid than false. I may + now tell you—for I want your advice, Mary—what I kept secret + before. When Mainwaring visited us, many months ago, at Southampton, he + confessed to me that he felt warmly for Susan, and asked if I thought Sir + Miles would consent. I knew too well how proud the poor old gentleman was, + to give him any such hopes. So he left, very honourably. You remember, + after he went, that Susan’s spirits were low,—you remarked it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed, I remember. But when the first shock of Sir Miles’s death + was over, she got back her sweet colour, and looked cheerful enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Because, perhaps, then she felt that she had a fortune to bestow on Mr. + Mainwaring, and thought all obstacle was over.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, how clever you are! How did you get at her thoughts?” + </p> + <p> + “My own folly,—my own rash folly,” almost groaned Mr. Fielden. “For + not guessing that Mr. Mainwaring could have got engaged meanwhile to + Lucretia, and suspecting how it was with Susan’s poor little heart, I let + out, in a jest—Heaven forgive me!—what William had said; and + the dear child blushed, and kissed me, and—why, a day or two after, + when it was fixed that we should come up to London, Lucretia informed me, + with her freezing politeness, that she was to marry Mainwaring herself as + soon as her first mourning was over.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor, dear, dear Susan!” + </p> + <p> + “Susan behaved like an angel; and when I broached it to her, I thought she + was calm; and I am sure she prayed with her whole heart that both might be + happy.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m sure she did. What is to be done? I understand it all now. Dear me, + dear me! a sad piece of work indeed.” And Mrs. Fielden abstractedly picked + up the scissors. + </p> + <p> + “It was not till our coming to town, and Mr. Mainwaring’s visits to + Lucretia, that her strength gave way.” + </p> + <p> + “A hard sight to bear,—I never could have borne it, my love. If I + had seen you paying court to another, I should have—I don’t know + what I should have done! But what an artful wretch this young Mainwaring + must be.” + </p> + <p> + “Not very artful; for you see that he looks even sadder than Susan. He got + entangled somehow, to be sure. Perhaps he had given up Susan in despair; + and Miss Clavering, if haughty, is no doubt a very superior young lady; + and, I dare say, it is only now in seeing them both together, and + comparing the two, that he feels what a treasure he has lost. Well, what + do you advise, Mary? Mainwaring, no doubt, is bound in honour to Miss + Clavering; but she will be sure to discover, sooner or later, the state of + his feelings, and then I tremble for both. I’m sure she will never be + happy, while he will be wretched; and Susan—I dare not think upon + Susan; she has a cough that goes to my heart.” + </p> + <p> + “So she has; that cough—you don’t know the money I spend on + black-currant jelly! What’s my advice? Why, I’d speak to Miss Clavering at + once, if I dared. I’m sure love will never break her heart; and she’s so + proud, she’d throw him off without a sigh, if she knew how things stood.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you are right,” said Mr. Fielden; “for truth is the best + policy, after all. Still, it’s scarce my business to meddle; and if it + were not for Susan—Well, well, I must think of it, and pray Heaven + to direct me.” + </p> + <p> + This conference suffices to explain to the reader the stage to which the + history of Lucretia had arrived. Willingly we pass over what it were + scarcely possible to describe,—her first shock at the fall from the + expectations of her life; fortune, rank, and what she valued more than + either, power, crushed at a blow. From the dark and sullen despair into + which she was first plunged, she was roused into hope, into something like + joy, by Mainwaring’s letters. Never had they been so warm and so tender; + for the young man felt not only poignant remorse that he had been the + cause of her downfall (though she broke it to him with more delicacy than + might have been expected from the state of her feelings and the hardness + of her character), but he felt also imperiously the obligations which her + loss rendered more binding than ever. He persuaded, he urged, he forced + himself into affection; and probably without a murmur of his heart, he + would have gone with her to the altar, and, once wedded, custom and duty + would have strengthened the chain imposed on himself, had it not been for + Lucretia’s fatal eagerness to see him, to come up to London, where she + induced him to meet her,—for with her came Susan; and in Susan’s + averted face and trembling hand and mute avoidance of his eye, he read all + which the poor dissembler fancied she concealed. But the die was cast, the + union announced, the time fixed, and day by day he came to the house, to + leave it in anguish and despair. A feeling they shared in common caused + these two unhappy persons to shun each other. Mainwaring rarely came into + the usual sitting-room of the family; and when he did so, chiefly in the + evening, Susan usually took refuge in her own room. If they met, it was by + accident, on the stairs, or at the sudden opening of a door; then not only + no word, but scarcely even a look was exchanged: neither had the courage + to face the other. Perhaps, of the two, this reserve weighed most on + Susan; perhaps she most yearned to break the silence,—for she + thought she divined the cause of Mainwaring’s gloomy and mute constraint + in the upbraidings of his conscience, which might doubtless recall, if no + positive pledge to Susan, at least those words and tones which betray the + one heart, and seek to allure the other; and the profound melancholy + stamped on his whole person, apparent even to her hurried glance, touched + her with a compassion free from all the bitterness of selfish reproach. + She fancied she could die happy if she could remove that cloud from his + brow, that shadow from his conscience. Die; for she thought not of life. + She loved gently, quietly,—not with the vehement passion that + belongs to stronger natures; but it was the love of which the young and + the pure have died. The face of the Genius was calm and soft; and only by + the lowering of the hand do you see that the torch burns out, and that the + image too serene for earthly love is the genius of loving Death. + </p> + <p> + Absorbed in the egotism of her passion (increased, as is ever the case + with women, even the worst, by the sacrifices it had cost her), and if + that passion paused, by the energy of her ambition, which already began to + scheme and reconstruct new scaffolds to repair the ruined walls of the + past,—Lucretia as yet had not detected what was so apparent to the + simple sense of Mr. Fielden. That Mainwaring was grave and thoughtful and + abstracted, she ascribed only to his grief at the thought of her loss, and + his anxieties for her altered future; and in her efforts to console him, + her attempts to convince him that greatness in England did not consist + only in lands and manors,—that in the higher walks of life which + conduct to the Temple of Renown, the leaders of the procession are the + aristocracy of knowledge and of intellect,—she so betrayed, not + generous emulation and high-souled aspiring, but the dark, unscrupulous, + tortuous ambition of cunning, stratagem, and intrigue, that instead of + feeling grateful and encouraged, he shuddered and revolted. How, + accompanied and led by a spirit which he felt to be stronger and more + commanding than his own,—how preserve the whiteness of his soul, the + uprightness of his honour? Already he felt himself debased. But in the + still trial of domestic intercourse, with the daily, hourly dripping on + the stone, in the many struggles between truth and falsehood, guile and + candour, which men—and, above all, ambitious men—must wage, + what darker angel would whisper him in his monitor? Still, he was bound,—bound + with an iron band; he writhed, but dreamed not of escape. + </p> + <p> + The day after that of Fielden’s conference with his wife, an unexpected + visitor came to the house. Olivier Dalibard called. He had not seen + Lucretia since she had left Laughton, nor had any correspondence passed + between them. He came at dusk, just after Mainwaring’s daily visit was + over, and Lucretia was still in the parlour, which she had appropriated to + herself. Her brow contracted as his name was announced, and the + maid-servant lighted the candle on the table, stirred the fire, and gave a + tug at the curtains. Her eye, glancing from his, round the mean room, with + its dingy horsehair furniture, involuntarily implied the contrast between + the past state and the present, which his sight could scarcely help to + impress on her. But she welcomed him with her usual stately composure, and + without reference to what had been. Dalibard was secretly anxious to + discover if she suspected himself of any agency in the detection of the + eventful letter; and assured by her manner that no such thought was yet + harboured, he thought it best to imitate her own reserve. He assumed, + however, a manner that, far more respectful than he ever before observed + to his pupil, was nevertheless sufficiently kind and familiar to restore + them gradually to their old footing; and that he succeeded was apparent, + when, after a pause, Lucretia said abruptly: “How did Sir Miles St. John + discover my correspondence with Mr. Mainwaring?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible that you are ignorant? Ah, how—how should you know + it?” And Dalibard so simply explained the occurrence, in which, indeed, it + was impossible to trace the hand that had moved springs which seemed so + entirely set at work by an accident, that despite the extreme + suspiciousness of her nature, Lucretia did not see a pretence for accusing + him. Indeed, when he related the little subterfuge of Gabriel, his attempt + to save her by taking the letter on himself, she felt thankful to the boy, + and deemed Gabriel’s conduct quite in keeping with his attachment to + herself. And this accounted satisfactorily for the only circumstance that + had ever troubled her with a doubt,—namely, the legacy left to + Gabriel. She knew enough of Sir Miles to be aware that he would be + grateful to any one who had saved the name of his niece, even while most + embittered against her, from the shame attached to clandestine + correspondence. + </p> + <p> + “It is strange, nevertheless,” said she, thoughtfully, after a pause, + “that the girl should have detected the letter, concealed as it was by the + leaves that covered it.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” answered Dalibard, readily, “you see two or three persons had + entered before, and their feet must have displaced the leaves.” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly; the evil is now past recall.” + </p> + <p> + “And Mr. Mainwaring? Do you still adhere to one who has cost you so much, + poor child?” + </p> + <p> + “In three months more I shall be his wife.” + </p> + <p> + Dalibard sighed deeply, but offered no remonstrance. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, taking her hand with mingled reverence and affection,—“well, + I oppose your inclinations no more, for now there is nothing to risk; you + are mistress of your own fortune; and since Mainwaring has talents, that + fortune will suffice for a career. Are you at length convinced that I have + conquered my folly; that I was disinterested when I incurred your + displeasure? If so, can you restore to me your friendship? You will have + some struggle with the world, and, with my long experience of men and + life, even I, the poor exile, may assist you.” + </p> + <p> + And so thought Lucretia; for with some dread of Dalibard’s craft, she yet + credited his attachment to herself, and she felt profound admiration for + an intelligence more consummate and accomplished than any ever yet + submitted to her comprehension. From that time, Dalibard became an + habitual visitor at the house; he never interfered with Lucretia’s + interviews with Mainwaring; he took the union for granted, and conversed + with her cheerfully on the prospects before her; he ingratiated himself + with the Fieldens, played with the children, made himself at home, and in + the evenings when Mainwaring, as often as he could find the excuse, + absented himself from the family circle, he contrived to draw Lucretia + into more social intercourse with her homely companions than she had + before condescended to admit. Good Mr. Fielden rejoiced; here was the very + person,—the old friend of Sir Miles, the preceptor of Lucretia + herself, evidently most attached to her, having influence over her,—the + very person to whom to confide his embarrassment. One day, therefore, when + Dalibard had touched his heart by noticing the paleness of Susan, he took + him aside and told him all. “And now,” concluded the pastor, hoping he had + found one to relieve him of his dreaded and ungracious task, “don’t you + think that I—or rather you—as so old a friend, should speak + frankly to Miss Clavering herself?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed,” said the Provencal, quickly; “if we spoke to her, she would + disbelieve us. She would no doubt appeal to Mainwaring, and Mainwaring + would have no choice but to contradict us. Once put on his guard, he would + control his very sadness. Lucretia, offended, might leave your house, and + certainly she would regard her sister as having influenced your + confession,—a position unworthy Miss Mivers. But do not fear: if the + evil be so, it carries with it its inevitable remedy. Let Lucretia + discover it herself; but, pardon me, she must have seen, at your first + reception of Mainwaring, that he had before been acquainted with you?” + </p> + <p> + “She was not in the room when we first received Mainwaring; and I have + always been distant to him, as you may suppose, for I felt disappointed + and displeased. Of course, however, she is aware that we knew him before + she did. What of that?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, do you think, then, he told her at Laughton of this acquaintance,—that + he spoke of Susan? I suspect not.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot say, I am sure,” said Mr. Fielden. + </p> + <p> + “Ask her that question accidentally; and for the rest, be discreet, my + dear sir. I thank you for your confidence. I will watch well over my poor + young pupil. She must not, indeed, be sacrificed to a man whose affections + are engaged elsewhere.” + </p> + <p> + Dalibard trod on air as he left the house; his very countenance had + changed; he seemed ten years younger. It was evening; and suddenly, as he + came into Oxford Street, he encountered a knot of young men—noisy + and laughing loud—obstructing the pavement, breaking jests on the + more sober passengers, and attracting the especial and admiring attention + of sundry ladies in plumed hats and scarlet pelisses; for the streets then + enjoyed a gay liberty which has vanished from London with the lanterns of + the watchmen. Noisiest and most conspicuous of these descendants of the + Mohawks, the sleek and orderly scholar beheld the childish figure of his + son. Nor did Gabriel shrink from his father’s eye, stern and scornful as + it was, but rather braved the glance with an impudent leer. + </p> + <p> + Right, however, in the midst of the group, strode the Provencal, and + laying his hand very gently on the boy’s shoulder, he said: “My son, come + with me.” + </p> + <p> + Gabriel looked irresolute, and glanced at his companions. Delighted at the + prospect of a scene, they now gathered round, with countenances and + gestures that seemed little disposed to acknowledge the parental + authority. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” said Dalibard, turning a shade more pale, for though morally + most resolute, physically he was not brave,—“gentlemen, I must beg + you to excuse me; this child is my son!” + </p> + <p> + “But Art is his mother,” replied a tall, raw-boned young man, with long + tawny hair streaming down from a hat very much battered. “At the juvenile + age, the child is consigned to the mother! Have I said it?” and he turned + round theatrically to his comrades. + </p> + <p> + “Bravo!” cried the rest, clapping their hands. + </p> + <p> + “Down with all tyrants and fathers! hip, hip, Hurrah!” and the hideous + diapason nearly split the drum of the ears into which it resounded. + </p> + <p> + “Gabriel,” whispered the father, “you had better follow me, had you not? + Reflect!” So saying, he bowed low to the unpropitious assembly, and as if + yielding the victory, stepped aside and crossed over towards Bond Street. + </p> + <p> + Before the din of derision and triumph died away, Dalibard looked back, + and saw Gabriel behind him. + </p> + <p> + “Approach, sir,” he said; and as the boy stood still, he added, “I promise + peace if you will accept it.” + </p> + <p> + “Peace, then,” answered Gabriel, and he joined his father’s side. + </p> + <p> + “So,” said Dalibard, “when I consented to your studying Art, as you call + it, under your mother’s most respectable brother, I ought to have + contemplated what would be the natural and becoming companions of the + rising Raphael I have given to the world.” + </p> + <p> + “I own, sir,” replied Gabriel, demurely, “that they are riotous fellows; + but some of them are clever, and—” + </p> + <p> + “And excessively drunk,” interrupted Dalibard, examining the gait of his + son. “Do you learn that accomplishment also, by way of steadying your hand + for the easel?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; I like wine well enough, but I would not be drunk for the world. + I see people when they are drunk are mere fools,—let out their + secrets, and show themselves up.” + </p> + <p> + “Well said,” replied the father, almost admiringly. “But a truce with this + bantering, Gabriel. Can you imagine that I will permit you any longer to + remain with that vagabond Varney and yon crew of vauriens? You will come + home with me; and if you must be a painter, I will look out for a more + trustworthy master.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall stay where I am,” answered Gabriel, firmly, and compressing his + lips with a force that left them bloodless. + </p> + <p> + “What, boy? Do I hear right? Dare you disobey me? Dare you defy?” + </p> + <p> + “Not in your house, so I will not enter it again.” Dalibard laughed + mockingly. + </p> + <p> + “Peste! but this is modest! You are not of age yet, Mr. Varney; you are + not free from a father’s tyrannical control.” + </p> + <p> + “The law does not own you as my father, I am told, sir. You have said my + name rightly,—it is Varney, not Dalibard. We have no rights over + each other; so at least says Tom Passmore, and his father’s a lawyer!” + </p> + <p> + Dalibard’s hand griped his son’s arm fiercely. Despite his pain, which was + acute, the child uttered no cry; but he growled beneath his teeth, + “Beware! beware! or my mother’s son may avenge her death!” + </p> + <p> + Dalibard removed his hand, and staggered as if struck. Gliding from his + side, Gabriel seized the occasion to escape; he paused, however, midway in + the dull, lamp-lit kennel when he saw himself out of reach, and then + approaching cautiously, said: “I know. I am a boy, but you have made me + man enough to take care of myself. Mr. Varney, my uncle, will maintain me; + when of age, old Sir Miles has provided for me. Leave me in peace, treat + me as free, and I will visit you, help you when you want me, obey you + still,—yes, follow your instructions; for I know you are,” he + paused, “you are wise. But if you seek again to make me your slave, you + will only find your foe. Good-night; and remember that a bastard has no + father!” + </p> + <p> + With these words he moved on, and hurrying down the street, turned the + corner and vanished. + </p> + <p> + Dalibard remained motionless for some minutes; at length he muttered: “Ay, + let him go, he is dangerous! What son ever revolted even from the worst + father, and throve in life? Food for the gibbet! What matters?” + </p> + <p> + When next Dalibard visited Lucretia, his manner was changed; the + cheerfulness he had before assumed gave place to a kind of melancholy + compassion; he no longer entered into her plans for the future, but would + look at her mournfully, start up, and walk away. She would have attributed + the change to some return of his ancient passion, but she heard him once + murmur with unspeakable pity, “Poor child, poor child!” A vague + apprehension seized her,—first, indeed, caught from some remarks + dropped by Mr. Fielden, which were less discreet than Dalibard had + recommended. A day or two afterwards, she asked Mainwaring, carelessly, + why he had never spoken to her at Laughton of his acquaintance with + Fielden. + </p> + <p> + “You asked me that before,” he said, somewhat sullenly. + </p> + <p> + “Did I? I forget! But how was it? Tell me again.” + </p> + <p> + “I scarcely know,” he replied confusedly; “we were always talking of each + other or poor Sir Miles,—our own hopes and fears.” + </p> + <p> + This was true, and a lover’s natural excuse. In the present of love all + the past is forgotten. + </p> + <p> + “Still,” said Lucretia, with her sidelong glance,—“still, as you + must have seen much of my own sister—” + </p> + <p> + Mainwaring, while she spoke, was at work on a button on his gaiter + (gaiters were then worn tight at the ankle); the effort brought the blood + to his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “But,” he said, still stooping at his occupation, “you were so little + intimate with your sister; I feared to offend. Family differences are so + difficult to approach.” + </p> + <p> + Lucretia was satisfied at the moment; for so vast was her stake in + Mainwaring’s heart, so did her whole heart and soul grapple to the rock + left serene amidst the deluge, that she habitually and resolutely thrust + from her mind all the doubts that at times invaded it. + </p> + <p> + “I know,” she would often say to herself,—“I know he does not love + as I do; but man never can, never ought to love as woman! Were I a man, I + should scorn myself if I could be so absorbed in one emotion as I am proud + to be now,—I, poor woman! I know,” again she would think,—“I + know how suspicious and distrustful I am; I must not distrust him,—I + shall only irritate, I may lose him: I dare not distrust,—it would + be too dreadful.” + </p> + <p> + Thus, as a system vigorously embraced by a determined mind, she had + schooled and forced herself into reliance on her lover. His words now, we + say, satisfied her at the moment; but afterwards, in absence, they were + recalled, in spite of herself,—in the midst of fears, shapeless and + undefined. Involuntarily she began to examine the countenance, the + movements, of her sister,—to court Susan’s society more than she had + done; for her previous indifference had now deepened into bitterness. + Susan, the neglected and despised, had become her equal,—nay, more + than her equal: Susan’s children would have precedence to her own in the + heritage of Laughton! Hitherto she had never deigned to talk to her in the + sweet familiarity of sisters so placed; never deigned to confide to her + those feelings for her future husband which burned lone and ardent in the + close vault of her guarded heart. Now, however, she began to name him, + wind her arm into Susan’s, talk of love and home, and the days to come; + and as she spoke, she read the workings of her sister’s face. That part of + the secret grew clear almost at the first glance. Susan loved,—loved + William Mainwaring; but was it not a love hopeless and unreturned? Might + not this be the cause that had made Mainwaring so reserved? He might have + seen, or conjectured, a conquest he had not sought; and hence, with manly + delicacy, he had avoided naming Susan to Lucretia; and now, perhaps, + sought the excuses which at times had chafed and wounded her for not + joining the household circle. If one of those who glance over these pages + chances to be a person more than usually able and acute,—a person + who has loved and been deceived,—he or she, no matter which, will + perhaps recall those first moments when the doubt, long put off, insisted + to be heard. A weak and foolish heart gives way to the doubt at once; not + so the subtler and more powerful,—it rather, on the contrary, + recalls all the little circumstances that justify trust and make head + against suspicion; it will not render the citadel at the mere sound of the + trumpet; it arms all its forces, and bars its gates on the foe. Hence it + is that the persons most easy to dupe in matters of affection are usually + those most astute in the larger affairs of life. Moliere, reading every + riddle in the vast complexities of human character, and clinging, in + self-imposed credulity, to his profligate wife, is a type of a striking + truth. Still, a foreboding, a warning instinct withheld Lucretia from + plumbing farther into the deeps of her own fears. So horrible was the + thought that she had been deceived, that rather than face it, she would + have preferred to deceive herself. This poor, bad heart shrank from + inquiry, it trembled at the idea of condemnation. She hailed, with a + sentiment of release that partook of rapture, Susan’s abrupt announcement + one morning that she had accepted an invitation from some relations of her + father to spend some time with them at their villa near Hampstead; she was + to go the end of the week. Lucretia hailed it, though she saw the cause,—Susan + shrank from the name of Mainwaring on Lucretia’s lips; shrank from the + familiar intercourse so ruthlessly forced on her! With a bright eye, that + day, Lucretia met her lover; yet she would not tell him of Susan’s + intended departure, she had not the courage. + </p> + <p> + Dalibard was foiled. This contradiction in Lucretia’s temper, so + suspicious, so determined, puzzled even his penetration. He saw that + bolder tactics were required. He waylaid Mainwaring on the young man’s way + to his lodgings, and after talking to him on indifferent matters, asked + him carelessly whether he did not think Susan far gone in a decline. + Affecting not to notice the convulsive start with which the question was + received, he went on,— + </p> + <p> + “There is evidently something on her mind; I observe that her eyes are + often red, as with weeping, poor girl. Perhaps some silly love-affair. + However, we shall not see her again before your marriage; she is going + away in a day or two. The change of air may possibly yet restore her,—I + own, though, I fear the worst. At this time of the year, and in your + climate, such complaints as I take hers to be are rapid. Good-day. We may + meet this evening.” + </p> + <p> + Terror-stricken at these barbarous words, Mainwaring no sooner reached his + lodging than he wrote and despatched a note to Fielden, entreating him to + call. + </p> + <p> + The vicar obeyed the summons, and found Mainwaring in a state of mind + bordering on distraction. Nor when Susan was named did Fielden’s words + take the shape of comfort; for he himself was seriously alarmed for her + health. The sound of her low cough rang in his ears, and he rather + heightened than removed the picture which haunted Mainwaring,—Susan + stricken, dying, broken-hearted! + </p> + <p> + Tortured both in heart and conscience, Mainwaring felt as if he had but + one wish left in the world,—to see Susan once more. What to say, he + scarce knew; but for her to depart,—depart perhaps to her grave, + believing him coldly indifferent,—for her not to know at least his + struggles, and pronounce his pardon, was a thought beyond endurance. After + such an interview both would have new fortitude,—each would unite in + encouraging the other in the only step left to honour. And this desire he + urged upon Fielden with all the eloquence of passionate grief as he + entreated him to permit and procure one last conference with Susan. But + this, the plain sense and straightforward conscience of the good man long + refused. If Mainwaring had been left in the position to explain his heart + to Lucretia, it would not have been for Fielden to object; but to have a + clandestine interview with one sister while betrothed to the other, bore + in itself a character too equivocal to meet with the simple vicar’s + approval. + </p> + <p> + “What can you apprehend?” exclaimed the young man, almost fiercely; for, + harassed and tortured, his mild nature was driven to bay. “Can you suppose + that I shall encourage my own misery by the guilty pleadings of unavailing + love? All that I ask is the luxury—yes, the luxury, long unknown to + me, of candour—to place fairly and manfully before Susan the + position in which fate has involved me. Can you suppose that we shall not + both take comfort and strength from each other? Our duty is plain and + obvious; but it grows less painful, encouraged by the lips of a companion + in suffering. I tell you fairly that see Susan I will and must. I will + watch round her home, wherever it be, hour after hour; come what may, I + will find my occasion. Is it not better that the interview should be under + your roof, within the same walls which shelter her sister? There, the + place itself imposes restraint on despair. Oh, sir, this is no time for + formal scruples; be merciful, I beseech you, not to me, but to Susan. I + judge of her by myself. I know that I shall go to the altar more resigned + to the future if for once I can give vent to what weighs upon my heart. + She will then see, as I do, that the path before me is inevitable; she + will compose herself to face the fate that compels us. We shall swear + tacitly to each other, not to love, but to conquer love. Believe me, sir, + I am not selfish in this prayer; an instinct, the intuition which human + grief has into the secrets of human grief, assures me that that which I + ask is the best consolation you can afford to Susan. You own she is ill,—suffering. + Are not your fears for her very life—O Heaven? for her very life—gravely + awakened? And yet you see we have been silent to each other! Can speech be + more fatal in its results than silence? Oh, for her sake, hear me!” + </p> + <p> + The good man’s tears fell fast. His scruples were shaken; there was truth + in what Mainwaring urged. He did not yield, but he promised to reflect, + and inform Mainwaring, by a line, in the evening. Finding this was all he + could effect, the young man at last suffered him to leave the house, and + Fielden hastened to take counsel of Dalibard; that wily persuader soon + reasoned away Mr. Fielden’s last faint objection. It now only remained to + procure Susan’s assent to the interview, and to arrange that it should be + undisturbed. Mr. Fielden should take out the children the next morning. + Dalibard volunteered to contrive the absence of Lucretia at the hour + appointed. Mrs. Fielden alone should remain within, and might, if it were + judged proper, be present at the interview, which was fixed for the + forenoon in the usual drawing-room. Nothing but Susan’s consent was now + necessary, and Mr. Fielden ascended to her room. He knocked twice,—no + sweet voice bade him enter; he opened the door gently,—Susan was in + prayer. At the opposite corner of the room, by the side of her bed, she + knelt, her face buried in her hands, and he heard, low and indistinct, the + murmur broken by the sob. But gradually, as he stood unperceived, sob and + murmur ceased,—prayer had its customary and blessed effect with the + pure and earnest. And when Susan rose, though the tears yet rolled down + her cheeks, the face was serene as an angel’s. + </p> + <p> + The pastor approached and took her hand; a blush then broke over her + countenance,—she trembled, and her eyes fell on the ground. “My + child,” he said solemnly, “God will hear you!” And after those words there + was a long silence. He then drew her passively towards a seat, and sat + down by her, embarrassed how to begin. At length he said, looking somewhat + aside, “Mr. Mainwaring has made me a request,—a prayer which relates + to you, and which I refer to you. He asks you to grant him an interview + before you leave us,—to-morrow, if you will. I refused at first,—I + am in doubt still; for, my dear, I have always found that when the + feelings move us, our duty becomes less clear to the human heart,—corrupt, + we know, but still it is often a safer guide than our reason. I never knew + reason unerring, except in mathematics; we have no Euclid,” and the good + man smiled mournfully, “in the problems of real life. I will not urge you + one way or the other; I put the case before you: Would it, as the young + man says, give you comfort and strength to see him once again while, while—in + short, before your sister is—I mean before—that is, would it + soothe you now, to have an unreserved communication with him? He implores + it. What shall I answer?” + </p> + <p> + “This trial, too!” muttered Susan, almost inaudibly,—“this trial + which I once yearned for;” and the hand clasped in Fielden’s was as cold + as ice. Then, turning her eyes to her guardian somewhat wildly, she cried: + “But to what end, what object? Why should he wish to see me?” + </p> + <p> + “To take greater courage to do his duty; to feel less unhappy at—at—” + </p> + <p> + “I will see him,” interrupted Susan, firmly,—“he is right; it will + strengthen both. I will see him!” + </p> + <p> + “But human nature is weak, my child; if my heart be so now, what will be + yours?” + </p> + <p> + “Fear me not,” answered Susan, with a sad, wandering smile; and she + repeated vacantly: “I will see him!” + </p> + <p> + The good man looked at her, threw his arms round her wasted form, and + lifting up his eyes, his lips stirred with such half-syllabled words as + fathers breathe on high. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. THE DISCOVERY. + </h2> + <p> + Dalibard had undertaken to get Lucretia from the house,—in fact, her + approaching marriage rendered necessary a communication with Mr. + Parchmount, as executor to her uncle’s will, relative to the transfer of + her portion; and she had asked Dalibard to accompany her thither; for her + pride shrank from receiving the lawyer in the shabby parlour of the shabby + lodging-house; she therefore, that evening, fixed the next day, before + noon, for the visit. A carriage was hired for the occasion, and when it + drove off, Mr. Fielden took his children a walk to Primrose Hill, and + called, as was agreed, on Mainwaring by the way. + </p> + <p> + The carriage had scarcely rattled fifty yards through the street when + Dalibard fixed his eyes with deep and solemn commiseration on Lucretia. + Hitherto, with masterly art, he had kept aloof from direct explanations + with his pupil; he knew that she would distrust no one like himself. The + plot was now ripened, and it was time for the main agent to conduct the + catastrophe. The look was so expressive that Lucretia felt a chill at her + heart, and could not, help exclaiming, “What has happened? You have some + terrible tidings to communicate!” + </p> + <p> + “I have indeed to say that which may, perhaps, cause you to hate me + forever; as we hate those who report our afflictions. I must endure this; + I have struggled long between my indignation and my compassion. Rouse up + your strong mind, and hear me. Mainwaring loves your sister!” + </p> + <p> + Lucretia uttered a cry that seemed scarcely to come from a human voice,— + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” she gasped out; “do not tell me. I will hear no more; I will not + believe you!” + </p> + <p> + With an inexpressible pity and softness in his tone, this man, whose + career had given him such profound experience in the frailties of the + human heart, continued: “I do not ask you to believe me, Lucretia; I would + not now speak, if you had not the opportunity to convince yourself. Even + those with whom you live are false to you; at this moment they have + arranged all, for Mainwaring to steal, in your absence, to your sister. In + a few moments more he will be with her; if you yourself would learn what + passes between them, you have the power.” + </p> + <p> + “I have—I have not—not—the courage; drive on—faster—faster.” + </p> + <p> + Dalibard again was foiled. In this strange cowardice there was something + so terrible, yet so touching, that it became sublime,—it was the + grasp of a drowning soul at the last plank. + </p> + <p> + “You are right perhaps,” he said, after a pause; and wisely forbearing all + taunt and resistance, he left the heart to its own workings. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, Lucretia caught at the check-string. “Stop,” she exclaimed,—“stop! + I will not, I cannot, endure this suspense to last through a life! I will + learn the worst. Bid him drive back.” + </p> + <p> + “We must descend and walk; you forget we must enter unsuspected;” and + Dalibard, as the carriage stopped, opened the door and let down the steps. + </p> + <p> + Lucretia recoiled, then pressing one hand to her heart, she descended, + without touching the arm held out to her. Dalibard bade the coachman wait, + and they walked back to the house. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he may see her,” exclaimed Lucretia, her face brightening. “Ah, + there you have not deceived me; I see your stratagem,—I despise it; + I know she loves him; she has sought this interview. He is so mild and + gentle, so fearful to give pain; he has consented, from pity,—that + is all. Is he not pledged to me? He, so candid, so ingenuous! There must + be truth somewhere in the world. If he is false, where find truth? Dark + man, must I look for it in you,—you?” + </p> + <p> + “It is not my truth I require you to test; I pretend not to truth + universal; I can be true to one, as you may yet discover. But I own your + belief is not impossible; my interest in you may have made me rash and + unjust,—what you may overhear, far from destroying, may confirm + forever your happiness. Would that it may be so!” + </p> + <p> + “It must be so,” returned Lucretia, with a fearful gloom on her brow and + in her accent; “I will interpret every word to my own salvation.” + </p> + <p> + Dalibard’s countenance changed, despite his usual control over it. He had + set all his chances upon this cast, and it was more hazardous than he had + deemed. He had counted too much upon the jealousy of common natures. After + all, how little to the ear of one resolved to deceive herself might pass + between these two young persons, meeting not to avow attachment, but to + take courage from each other! What restraint might they impose on their + feelings! Still, the game must be played out. + </p> + <p> + As they now neared the house, Dalibard looked carefully round, lest they + should encounter Mainwaring on his way to it. He had counted on arriving + before the young man could get there. + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Lucretia, breaking silence, with an ironical smile,—“but—for + your tender anxiety for me has, no doubt, provided all means and + contrivance, all necessary aids to baseness and eavesdropping, that can + assure my happiness—how am I to be present at this interview?” + </p> + <p> + “I have provided, as you say,” answered Dalibard, in the tone of a man + deeply hurt, “those means which I, who have found the world one foe and + one traitor, deemed the best to distinguish falsehood from truth. I have + arranged that we shall enter the house unsuspected. Mainwaring and your + sister will be in the drawing-room; the room next to it will be vacant, as + Mr. Fielden is from home: there is but a glass-door between the two + chambers.” + </p> + <p> + “Enough, enough!” and Lucretia turned round and placed her hand lightly on + the Provencal’s arm. “The next hour will decide whether the means you + suggest to learn truth and defend safety will be familiar or loathsome to + me for life,—will decide whether trust is a madness; whether you, my + youth’s teacher, are the wisest of men, or only the most dangerous.” + </p> + <p> + “Believe me, or not, when I say I would rather the decision should condemn + me; for I, too, have need of confidence in men.” + </p> + <p> + Nothing further was said; the dull street was quiet and desolate as usual. + Dalibard had taken with him the key of the house-door. The door opened + noiselessly; they were in the house. Mainwaring’s cloak was in the hall; + he had arrived a few moments before them. Dalibard pointed silently to + that evidence in favour of his tale. Lucretia bowed her head but with a + look that implied defiance; and (still without a word) she ascended the + stairs, and entered the room appointed for concealment. But as she + entered, at the farther corner of the chamber she saw Mrs. Fielden seated,—seated, + remote and out of hearing. The good-natured woman had yielded to + Mainwaring’s prayer, and Susan’s silent look that enforced it, to let + their interview be unwitnessed. She did not perceive Lucretia till the + last walked glidingly, but firmly, up to her, placed a burning hand on her + lips, and whispered: “Hush, betray me not; my happiness for life—Susan’s—his—are + at stake; I must hear what passes: it is my fate that is deciding. Hush! I + command; for I have the right.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Fielden was awed and startled; and before she could recover even + breath, Lucretia had quitted her side and taken her post at the fatal + door. She lifted the corner of the curtain from the glass panel, and + looked in. + </p> + <p> + Mainwaring was seated at a little distance from Susan, whose face was + turned from her. Mainwaring’s countenance was in full view. But it was + Susan’s voice that met her ear; and though sweet and low, it was distinct, + and even firm. It was evident from the words that the conference had but + just begun. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, Mr. Mainwaring, you have nothing to explain, nothing of which to + accuse yourself. It was not for this, believe me,”—and here Susan + turned her face, and its aspect of heavenly innocence met the dry, lurid + eye of the unseen witness,—“not for this, believe me, that I + consented to see you. If I did so, it was only because I thought, because + I feared from your manner, when we met at times, still more from your + evident avoidance to meet me at all, that you were unhappy (for I know you + kind and honest),—unhappy at the thought that you had wounded me, + and my heart could not bear that, nor, perhaps, my pride either. That you + should have forgotten me—” + </p> + <p> + “Forgotten you!” + </p> + <p> + “That you should have been captivated,” continued Susan, in a more hurried + tone, “by one so superior to me in all things as Lucretia, is very + natural. I thought, then—thought only—that nothing could cloud + your happiness but some reproach of a conscience too sensitive. For this I + have met you,—met you without a thought which Lucretia would have a + right to blame, could she read my heart; met you,” and the voice for the + first time faltered, “that I might say, ‘Be at peace; it is your sister + that addresses you. Requite Lucretia’s love,—it is deep and strong; + give her, as she gives to you, a whole heart; and in your happiness I, + your sister—sister to both—I shall be blest.’” With a smile + inexpressibly touching and ingenuous, she held out her hand as she ceased. + Mainwaring sprang forward, and despite her struggle, pressed it to his + lips, his heart. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” he exclaimed, in broken accents, which gradually became more clear + and loud, “what—what have I lost!—lost forever! No, no, I will + be worthy of you! I do not, I dare not, say that I love you still! I feel + what I owe to Lucretia. How I became first ensnared, infatuated; how, with + your image graven so deeply here—” + </p> + <p> + “Mainwaring—Mr. Mainwaring—I must not hear you. Is this your + promise?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you must hear me yet. How I became engaged to your sister,—so + different indeed from you,—I start in amaze and bewilderment when I + seek to conjecture. But so it was. For me she has forfeited fortune, rank, + all which that proud, stern heart so prized and coveted. Heaven is my + witness how I have struggled to repay her affection with my own! If I + cannot succeed, at least all that faith and gratitude can give are hers. + Yes, when I leave you, comforted by your forgiveness, your prayers, I + shall have strength to tear you from my heart; it is my duty, my fate. + With a firm step I will go to these abhorred nuptials. Oh, shudder not, + turn not away. Forgive the word; but I must speak,—my heart will + out; yes, abhorred nuptials! Between my grave and the altar, would—would + that I had a choice!” + </p> + <p> + From this burst, which in vain from time to time Susan had sought to + check, Mainwaring was startled by an apparition which froze his veins, as + a ghost from the grave. The door was thrown open, and Lucretia stood in + the aperture,—stood, gazing on him, face to face; and her own was so + colourless, so rigid, so locked in its livid and awful solemnity of aspect + that it was, indeed, as one risen from the dead. + </p> + <p> + Dismayed by the abrupt cry and the changed face of her lover, Susan turned + and beheld her sister. With the impulse of the pierced and loving heart, + which divined all the agony inflicted, she sprang to Lucretia’s side, she + fell to the ground and clasped her knees. + </p> + <p> + “Do not heed, do not believe him; it is but the frenzy of a moment. He + spoke but to deceive me,—me, who loved him once! Mine alone, mine is + the crime. He knows all your worth. Pity—pity—pity on + yourself, on him, on me!” + </p> + <p> + Lucretia’s eyes fell with the glare of a fiend upon the imploring face + lifted to her own. Her lips moved, but no sound was audible. At length she + drew herself from her sister’s clasp, and walked steadily up to + Mainwaring. She surveyed him with a calm and cruel gaze, as if she enjoyed + his shame and terror. Before, however, she spoke, Mrs. Fielden, who had + watched, as one spellbound, Lucretia’s movements, and, without hearing + what had passed, had the full foreboding of what would ensue, but had not + stirred till Lucretia herself terminated the suspense and broke the charm + of her awe,—before she spoke, Mrs. Fielden rushed in, and giving + vent to her agitation in loud sobs, as she threw her arms round Susan, who + was still kneeling on the floor, brought something of grotesque to the + more tragic and fearful character of the scene. + </p> + <p> + “My uncle was right; there is neither courage nor honour in the low-born! + He, the schemer, too, is right. All hollow,—all false!” Thus said + Lucretia, with a strange sort of musing accent, at first scornful, at last + only quietly abstracted. “Rise, sir,” she then added, with her most + imperious tone; “do you not hear your Susan weep? Do you fear in my + presence to console her? Coward to her, as forsworn to me! Go, sir, you + are free!” + </p> + <p> + “Hear me,” faltered Mainwaring, attempting to seize her hand; “I do not + ask you to forgive; but—” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive, sir!” interrupted Lucretia, rearing her head, and with a look of + freezing and unspeakable majesty. “There is only one person here who needs + a pardon; but her fault is inexpiable: it is the woman who stooped beneath + her—” + </p> + <p> + With these words, hurled from her with a scorn which crushed while it + galled, she mechanically drew round her form her black mantle; her eye + glanced on the deep mourning of the garment, and her memory recalled all + that love had cost her; but she added no other reproach. Slowly she turned + away. Passing Susan, who lay senseless in Mrs. Fielden’s arms, she paused, + and kissed her forehead. + </p> + <p> + “When she recovers, madam,” she said to Mrs. Fielden, who was moved and + astonished by this softness, “say that Lucretia Clavering uttered a vow + when she kissed the brow of William Mainwaring’s future wife!” + </p> + <p> + Olivier Dalibard was still seated in the parlour below when Lucretia + entered. Her face yet retained its almost unearthly rigidity and calm; but + a sort of darkness had come over its ashen pallor,—that shade so + indescribable, which is seen in the human face, after long illness, a day + or two before death. Dalibard was appalled; for he had too often seen that + hue in the dying not to recognize it now. His emotion was sufficiently + genuine to give more than usual earnestness to his voice and gesture, as + he poured out every word that spoke sympathy and soothing. For a long time + Lucretia did not seem to hear him; at last her face softened,—the + ice broke. + </p> + <p> + “Motherless, friendless, lone, alone forever, undone, undone!” she + murmured. Her head sank upon the shoulder of her fearful counsellor, + unconscious of its resting-place, and she burst into tears,—tears + which perhaps saved her reason or her life. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. A SOUL WITHOUT HOPE. + </h2> + <p> + When Mr. Fielden returned home, Lucretia had quitted the house. She left a + line for him in her usual bold, clear handwriting, referring him to his + wife for explanation of the reasons that forbade a further residence + beneath his roof. She had removed to an hotel until she had leisure to + arrange her plans for the future. In a few months she should be of age; + and in the meanwhile, who now living claimed authority over her? For the + rest, she added, “I repeat what I told Mr. Mainwaring: all engagement + between us is at an end; he will not insult me either by letter or by + visit. It is natural that I should at present shrink from seeing Susan + Mivers. Hereafter, if permitted, I will visit Mrs. Mainwaring.” + </p> + <p> + Though all had chanced as Mr. Fielden had desired (if, as he once half + meditated, he had spoken to Lucretia herself); though a marriage that + could have brought happiness to none, and would have made the misery of + two, was at an end,—he yet felt a bitter pang, almost of remorse, + when he learned what had occurred. And Lucretia, before secretly disliked + (if any one he could dislike), became dear to him at once, by sorrow and + compassion. Forgetting every other person, he hurried to the hotel + Lucretia had chosen; but her coldness deceived and her pride repelled him. + She listened dryly to all he said, and merely replied: “I feel only + gratitude at my escape. Let this subject now close forever.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fielden left her presence with less anxious and commiserating + feelings,—perhaps all had chanced for the best. And on returning + home, his whole mind became absorbed in alarm for Susan. She was + delirious, and in great danger; it was many weeks before she recovered. + Meanwhile, Lucretia had removed into private apartments, of which she + withheld the address. During this time, therefore, they lost sight of her. + </p> + <p> + If amidst the punishments with which the sombre imagination of poets has + diversified the Realm of the tortured Shadows, it had depicted some soul + condemned to look evermore down into an abyss, all change to its gaze + forbidden, chasm upon chasm yawning deeper and deeper, darker and darker, + endless and infinite, so that, eternally gazing, the soul became, as it + were, a part of the abyss,—such an image would symbol forth the + state of Lucretia’s mind. + </p> + <p> + It was not the mere desolation of one whom love has abandoned and + betrayed. In the abyss were mingled inextricably together the gloom of the + past and of the future,—there, the broken fortunes, the crushed + ambition, the ruin of the worldly expectations long inseparable from her + schemes; and amidst them, the angry shade of the more than father, whose + heart she had wrung, and whose old age she had speeded to the grave. These + sacrifices to love, while love was left to her, might have haunted her at + moments; but a smile, a word, a glance, banished the regret and the + remorse. Now, love being razed out of life, the ruins of all else loomed + dismal amidst the darkness; and a voice rose up, whispering: “Lo, fool, + what thou hast lost because thou didst believe and love!” And this thought + grasped together the two worlds of being,—the what has been, and the + what shall be. All hope seemed stricken from the future, as a man strikes + from the calculations of his income the returns from a property + irrevocably lost. At her age but few of her sex have parted with religion; + but even such mechanical faith as the lessons of her childhood, and the + constrained conformities with Christian ceremonies, had instilled, had + long since melted away in the hard scholastic scepticism of her fatal + tutor,—a scepticism which had won, with little effort, a reason + delighting in the maze of doubt, and easily narrowed into the cramped and + iron logic of disbelief by an intellect that scorned to submit where it + failed to comprehend. Nor had faith given place to those large moral + truths from which philosophy has sought to restore the proud statue of + Pagan Virtue as a substitute for the meek symbol of the Christian cross. + By temperament unsocial, nor readily moved to the genial and benevolent, + that absolute egotism in which Olivier Dalibard centred his dreary ethics + seemed sanctioned to Lucretia by her studies into the motives of man and + the history of the world. She had read the chronicles of States and the + memoirs of statesmen, and seen how craft carries on the movements of an + age. Those Viscontis, Castruccios, and Medici; those Richelieus and + Mazarins and De Retzs; those Loyolas and Mohammeds and Cromwells; those + Monks and Godolphins; those Markboroughs and Walpoles; those founders of + history and dynasties and sects; those leaders and dupers of men, greater + or lesser, corrupters or corrupt, all standing out prominent and renowned + from the guiltless and laurelless obscure,—seemed to win, by the + homage of posterity, the rewards that attend the deceivers of their time. + By a superb arrogance of generalization, she transferred into private + life, and the rule of commonplace actions, the policy that, to the + abasement of honour, has so often triumphed in the guidance of States. + Therefore, betimes, the whole frame of society was changed to her eye, + from the calm aspect it wears to those who live united with their kind; + she viewed all seemings with suspicion; and before she had entered the + world, prepared to live in it as a conspirator in a city convulsed, spying + and espied, schemed against and scheming,—here the crown for the + crafty, there the axe for the outwitted. + </p> + <p> + But her love—for love is trust—had led her half way forth from + this maze of the intellect. That fair youth of inexperience and candour + which seemed to bloom out in the face of her betrothed; his very shrinking + from the schemes so natural to her that to her they seemed even innocent; + his apparent reliance on mere masculine ability, with the plain aids of + perseverance and honesty,—all had an attraction that plucked her + back from herself. If she clung to him firmly, blindly, credulously, it + was not as the lover alone. In the lover she beheld the good angel. Had he + only died to her, still the angel smile would have survived and warned. + But the man had not died; the angel itself had deceived; the wings could + uphold her no more,—they had touched the mire, and were sullied with + the soil; with the stain, was forfeited the strength. All was deceit and + hollowness and treachery. Lone again in the universe rose the eternal I. + So down into the abyss she looked, depth upon depth, and the darkness had + no relief, and the deep had no end. + </p> + <p> + Olivier Dalibard alone, of all she knew, was admitted to her seclusion. He + played his part as might be expected from the singular patience and + penetration which belonged to the genius of his character. He forbore the + most distant allusion to his attachment or his hopes. He evinced sympathy + rather by imitating her silence, than attempts to console. When he spoke, + he sought to interest her mind more than to heal directly the deep wounds + of her heart. There is always, to the afflicted, a certain charm in the + depth and bitterness of eloquent misanthropy. And Dalibard, who professed + not to be a man-hater, but a world-scorner, had powers of language and of + reasoning commensurate with his astute intellect and his profound + research. His society became not only a relief, it grew almost a want, to + that stern sorrower. But whether alarmed or not by the influence she felt + him gradually acquiring, or whether, through some haughty desire to rise + once more aloft from the state of her rival and her lover, she made one + sudden effort to grasp at the rank from which she had been hurled. The + only living person whose connection could re-open to her the great world, + with its splendours and its scope to ambition, was Charles Vernon. She + scarcely admitted to her own mind the idea that she would now accept, if + offered, the suit she had before despised; she did not even contemplate + the renewal of that suit,—though there was something in the gallant + and disinterested character of Vernon which should have made her believe + he would regard their altered fortunes rather as a claim on his honour + than a release to his engagements. But hitherto no communication had + passed between them; and this was strange if he retained the same + intentions which he had announced at Laughton. Putting aside, we say, + however, all such considerations, Vernon had sought her friendship, called + her “cousin,” enforced the distant relationship between them. Not as + lover, but as kinsman,—the only kinsman of her own rank she + possessed,—his position in the world, his connections, his brilliant + range of acquaintance, made his counsel for her future plans, his aid in + the re-establishment of her consequence (if not—as wealthy, still as + well-born), and her admission amongst her equals, of price and value. It + was worth sounding the depth of the friendship he had offered, even if his + love had passed away with the fortune on which doubtless it had been + based. + </p> + <p> + She took a bold step,—she wrote to Vernon: not even to allude to + what had passed between them; her pride forbade such unwomanly vulgarity. + The baseness that was in her took at least a more delicate exterior. She + wrote to him simply and distantly, to state that there were some books and + trifles of hers left at Laughton, which she prized beyond their trivial + value, and to request, as she believed him to be absent from the Hall, + permission to call at her old home, in her way to a visit in a + neighbouring county, and point out to whomsoever he might appoint to meet + her, the effects she deemed herself privileged to claim. The letter was + one merely of business, but it was a sufficient test of the friendly + feelings of her former suitor. + </p> + <p> + She sent this letter to Vernon’s house in London, and the next day came + the answer. + </p> + <p> + Vernon, we must own, entirely sympathized with Sir Miles in the solemn + injunctions the old man had bequeathed. Immediately after the death of one + to whom we owe gratitude and love, all his desires take a sanctity + irresistible and ineffable; we adopt his affection, his dislikes, his + obligations, and his wrongs. And after he had read the copy of Lucretia’s + letter, inclosed to him by Sir Miles, the conquest the poor baronet had + made over resentment and vindictive emotion, the evident effort at + passionless justice with which he had provided becomingly for his niece, + while he cancelled her claims as his heiress, had filled Vernon with a + reverence for his wishes and decisions that silenced all those + inclinations to over-generosity which an unexpected inheritance is apt to + create towards the less fortunate expectants. Nevertheless, Lucretia’s + direct application, her formal appeal to his common courtesy as host and + kinsman, perplexed greatly a man ever accustomed to a certain chivalry + towards the sex; the usual frankness of his disposition suggested, + however, plain dealing as the best escape from his dilemma, and therefore + he answered thus:— + </p> + <p> + MADAM,—Under other circumstances it would have given me no common + pleasure to place the house that you so long inhabited again at your + disposal; and I feel so painfully the position which my refusal of your + request inflicts upon me, that rather than resort to excuses and pretexts, + which, while conveying an impression of my sincerity, would seem almost + like an insult to yourself, I venture frankly to inform you that it was + the dying wish of my lamented kinsman, in consequence of a letter which + came under his eye, that the welcome you had hitherto received at Laughton + should be withdrawn. Pardon me, Madam, if I express myself thus bluntly; + it is somewhat necessary to the vindication of my character in your eyes, + both as regards the honour of your request and my tacit resignation of + hopes fervently but too presumptuously entertained. In this most painful + candour, Heaven forbid that I should add wantonly to your self-reproaches + for the fault of youth and inexperience, which I should be the last person + to judge rigidly, and which, had Sir Miles’s life been spared, you would + doubtless have amply repaired. The feelings which actuated Sir Miles in + his latter days might have changed; but the injunction those feelings + prompted I am bound to respect. + </p> + <p> + For the mere matter of business on which you have done me the honour to + address me, I have only to say that any orders you may give to the + steward, or transmit through any person you may send to the Hall, with + regard to the effects you so naturally desire to claim, shall be + implicitly obeyed. + </p> + <p> + And believe me, Madam (though I do not presume to add those expressions + which might rather heighten the offence I fear this letter will give you), + that the assurance of your happiness in the choice you have made, and + which now no obstacle can oppose, will considerably—lighten the pain + with which I shall long recall my ungracious reply to your communication. + </p> + <p> + I have the honour to be, etc., C. VERNON ST. JOHN. + </p> + <p> + BROOK STREET, Dec. 28, 18—. + </p> + <p> + The receipt of such a letter could hardly add to the profounder grief + which preyed in the innermost core of Lucretia’s heart; but in repelling + the effort she had made to distract that grief by ambition, it blackened + the sullen despondency with which she regarded the future. As the insect + in the hollow snare of the ant-lion, she felt that there was no footing up + the sides of the cave into which she had fallen; the sand gave way to the + step. But despondency in her brought no meekness; the cloud did not + descend in rain; resting over the horizon, its darkness was tinged with + the fires which it fed. The heart, already so embittered, was stung and + mortified into intolerable shame and wrath. From the home that should have + been hers, in which, as acknowledged heiress, she had smiled down on the + ruined Vernon, she was banished by him who had supplanted her, as one + worthless and polluted. Though, from motives of obvious delicacy, Vernon + had not said expressly that he had seen the letter to Mainwaring, the + unfamiliar and formal tone which he assumed indirectly declared it, and + betrayed the impression it had made, in spite of his reserve. A living man + then was in possession of a secret which justified his disdain, and that + man was master of Laughton! The suppressed rage which embraced the lost + lover extended darkly over this witness to that baffled and miserable + love. But what availed rage against either? Abandoned and despoiled, she + was powerless to avenge. It was at this time, when her prospects seemed + most dark, her pride was most crushed, and her despair of the future at + its height, that she turned to Dalibard as the only friend left to her + under the sun. Even the vices she perceived in him became merits, for they + forbade him to despise her. And now, this man rose suddenly into another + and higher aspect of character. Of late, though equally deferential to + her, there had been something more lofty in his mien, more assured on his + brow; gleams of a secret satisfaction, even of a joy, that he appeared + anxious to suppress, as ill in harmony with her causes for dejection, + broke out in his looks and words. At length, one day, after some + preparatory hesitation, he informed her that he was free to return to + France; that even without the peace between England and France, which + (known under the name of the Peace of Amiens) had been just concluded, he + should have crossed the Channel. The advocacy and interest of friends whom + he had left at Paris had already brought him under the special notice of + the wonderful man who then governed France, and who sought to unite in its + service every description and variety of intellect. He should return to + France, and then—why, then, the ladder was on the walls of Fortune + and the foot planted on the step! As he spoke, confidently and sanguinely, + with the verve and assurance of an able man who sees clear the path to his + goal, as he sketched with rapid precision the nature of his prospects and + his hopes, all that subtle wisdom which had before often seemed but vague + and general, took practical shape and interest, thus applied to the actual + circumstances of men; the spirit of intrigue, which seemed mean when + employed on mean things, swelled into statesmanship and masterly genius to + the listener when she saw it linked with the large objects of masculine + ambition. Insensibly, therefore, her attention became earnest, her mind + aroused. The vision of a field, afar from the scenes of her humiliation + and despair,—a field for energy, stratagem, and contest,—invited + her restless intelligence. As Dalibard had profoundly calculated, there + was no new channel for her affections,—the source was dried up, and + the parched sands heaped over it; but while the heart lay dormant, the + mind rose sleepless, chafed, and perturbed. Through the mind, he + indirectly addressed and subtly wooed her. + </p> + <p> + “Such,” he said, as he rose to take leave, “such is the career to which I + could depart with joy if I did not depart alone!” + </p> + <p> + “Alone!” that word, more than once that day, Lucretia repeated to herself—“alone!” + And what career was left to her?—she, too, alone! + </p> + <p> + In certain stages of great grief our natures yearn for excitement. This + has made some men gamblers; it has made even women drunkards,—it had + effect over the serene calm and would-be divinity of the poet-sage. When + his son dies, Goethe does not mourn, he plunges into the absorption of a + study uncultivated before. But in the great contest of life, in the + whirlpool of actual affairs, the stricken heart finds all,—the + gambling, the inebriation, and the study. + </p> + <p> + We pause here. We have pursued long enough that patient analysis, with all + the food for reflection that it possibly affords, to which we were + insensibly led on by an interest, dark and fascinating, that grew more and + more upon us as we proceeded in our research into the early history of a + person fated to pervert no ordinary powers into no commonplace guilt. + </p> + <p> + The charm is concluded, the circle closed round; the self-guided seeker + after knowledge has gained the fiend for the familiar. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. THE RECONCILIATION BETWEEN FATHER AND SON. + </h2> + <h3> + We pass over an interval of some months. + </h3> + <p> + A painter stood at work at the easel, his human model before him. He was + employed on a nymph,—the Nymph Galatea. The subject had been taken + before by Salvator, whose genius found all its elements in the wild rocks, + gnarled, fantastic trees, and gushing waterfalls of the landscape; in the + huge ugliness of Polyphemus the lover; in the grace and suavity and + unconscious abandonment of the nymph, sleeking her tresses dripping from + the bath. The painter, on a larger canvas (for Salvator’s picture, at + least the one we have seen, is among the small sketches of the great + artistic creator of the romantic and grotesque), had transferred the + subject of the master; but he had left subordinate the landscape and the + giant, to concentrate all his art on the person of the nymph. Middle-aged + was the painter, in truth; but he looked old. His hair, though long, was + gray and thin; his face was bloated by intemperance; and his hand trembled + much, though, from habit, no trace of the tremor was visible in his work. + </p> + <p> + A boy, near at hand, was also employed on the same subject, with a rough + chalk and a bold freedom of touch. He was sketching his design of a + Galatea and Polyphemus on the wall; for the wall was only whitewashed, and + covered already with the multiform vagaries whether of master or pupils,—caricatures + and demigods, hands and feet, torsos and monsters, and Venuses. The rude + creations, all mutilated, jarring, and mingled, gave a cynical, mocking, + devil-may-care kind of aspect to the sanctum of art. It was like the + dissection-room of the anatomist. The boy’s sketch was more in harmony + with the walls of the studio than the canvas of the master. His nymph, + accurately drawn, from the undressed proportions of the model, down to the + waist, terminated in the scales of a fish. The forked branches of the + trees stretched weird and imp-like as the hands of skeletons. Polyphemus, + peering over the rocks, had the leer of a demon; and in his gross features + there was a certain distorted, hideous likeness of the grave and + symmetrical lineaments of Olivier Dalibard. + </p> + <p> + All around was slovenly, squalid, and poverty-stricken,—rickety, + worn-out, rush-bottom chairs; unsold, unfinished pictures, pell-mell in + the corner, covered with dust; broken casts of plaster; a lay-figure + battered in its basket-work arms, with its doll-like face all smudged and + besmeared. A pot of porter and a noggin of gin on a stained deal table, + accompanied by two or three broken, smoke-blackened pipes, some tattered + song-books, and old numbers of the “Covent Garden Magazine,” betrayed the + tastes of the artist, and accounted for the shaking hand and the bloated + form. A jovial, disorderly, vagrant dog of a painter was Tom Varney. A + bachelor, of course; humorous and droll; a boon companion, and a terrible + borrower. Clever enough in his calling; with pains and some method, he had + easily gained subsistence and established a name; but he had one trick + that soon ruined him in the business part of his profession. He took a + fourth of his price in advance; and having once clutched the money, the + poor customer might go hang for his picture. The only things Tom Varney + ever fairly completed were those for which no order had been given; for in + them, somehow or other, his fancy became interested, and on them he + lavished the gusto which he really possessed. But the subjects were rarely + salable. Nymphs and deities undraperied have few worshippers in England + amongst the buyers of “furniture pictures.” And, to say truth, nymph and + deity had usually a very equivocal look; and if they came from the gods, + you would swear it was the gods of the galleries of Drury. When Tom Varney + sold a picture, he lived upon clover till the money was gone. But the + poorer and less steady alumni of the rising school, especially those at + war with the Academy, from which Varney was excluded, pitied, despised, + yet liked and courted him withal. In addition to his good qualities of + blithe song-singer, droll story-teller, and stanch Bacchanalian, Tom + Varney was liberally good-natured in communicating instruction really + valuable to those who knew how to avail themselves of a knowledge he had + made almost worthless to himself. He was a shrewd, though good-natured + critic, had many little secrets of colouring and composition, which an + invitation to supper, or the loan of ten shillings, was sufficient to + bribe from him. Ragged, out of elbows, unshaven, and slipshod, he still + had his set amongst the gay and the young,—a precious master, a + profitable set for his nephew, Master Honore Gabriel! But the poor + rapscallion had a heart larger than many honest, painstaking men. As soon + as Gabriel had found him out, and entreated refuge from his fear of his + father, the painter clasped him tight in his great slovenly arms, sold a + Venus half-price to buy him a bed and a washstand, and swore a tremendous + oath that the son of his poor guillotined sister should share the last + shilling in his pocket, the last drop in his can. + </p> + <p> + Gabriel, fresh from the cheer of Laughton, and spoiled by the prodigal + gifts of Lucretia, had little gratitude for shillings and porter. + Nevertheless, he condescended to take what he could get, while he sighed, + from the depths of a heart in which cupidity and vanity had become the + predominant rulers, for a destiny more worthy his genius, and more in + keeping with the sphere from which he had descended. + </p> + <p> + The boy finished his sketch, with an impudent wink at the model, flung + himself back on his chair, folded his arms, cast a discontented glance at + the whitened seams of the sleeves, and soon seemed lost in his own + reflections. The painter worked on in silence. The model, whom Gabriel’s + wink had aroused, half-flattered, half-indignant for a moment, lapsed into + a doze. Outside the window, you heard the song of a canary,—a dingy, + smoke-coloured canary that seemed shedding its plumes, for they were as + ragged as the garments of its master; still, it contrived to sing, + trill-trill-trill-trill-trill, as blithely as if free in its native woods, + or pampered by fair hands in a gilded cage. The bird was the only true + artist there, it sang as the poet sings,—to obey its nature and vent + its heart. Trill-trill-trillela-la-la-trill-trill, went the song,—louder, + gayer than usual; for there was a gleam of April sunshine struggling over + the rooftops. The song at length roused up Gabriel; he turned his chair + round, laid his head on one side, listened, and looked curiously at the + bird. + </p> + <p> + At length an idea seemed to cross him; he rose, opened the window, drew in + the cage, placed it on the chair, then took up one of his uncle’s pipes, + walked to the fireplace, and thrust the shank of the pipe into the bars. + When it was red-hot he took it out by the bowl, having first protected his + hand from the heat by wrapping round it his handkerchief; this done, he + returned to the cage. His movements had wakened up the dozing model. She + eyed them at first with dull curiosity, then with lively suspicion; and + presently starting up with an exclamation such as no novelist but Fielding + dare put into the mouth of a female,—much less a nymph of such + renown as Galatea,—she sprang across the room, wellnigh upsetting + easel and painter, and fastened firm hold on Gabriel’s shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “The varment!” she cried vehemently; “the good-for-nothing varment! If it + had been a jay, or a nasty raven, well and good; but a poor little + canary!” + </p> + <p> + “Hoity-toity! what are you about, nephew? What’s the matter?” said Tom + Varney, coming up to the strife. And, indeed, it was time; for Gabriel’s + teeth were set in his catlike jaws, and the glowing point of the + pipe-shank was within an inch of the cheek of the model. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter?” replied Gabriel, suddenly; “why, I was only going to + try a little experiment.” + </p> + <p> + “An experiment? Not on my canary, poor dear little thing! The hours and + hours that creature has strained its throat to say ‘Sing and be merry,’ + when I had not a rap in my pocket! It would have made a stone feel to hear + it.” + </p> + <p> + “But I think I can make it sing much better than ever,—only just let + me try! They say that if you put out the eyes of a canary, it—” + </p> + <p> + Gabriel was not allowed to conclude his sentence; for here rose that + clamour of horror and indignation from both painter and model which + usually greets the announcement of every philosophical discovery,—at + least, when about to be practically applied; and in the midst of the + hubbub, the poor little canary, who had been fluttering about the cage to + escape the hand of the benevolent operator, set up no longer the cheerful + trill-trillela-la-trill, but a scared and heart-breaking chirp,—a + shrill, terrified twit-twit-twitter-twit. + </p> + <p> + “Damn the bird! Hold your tongues!” cried Gabriel Varney, reluctantly + giving way, but still eying the bird with the scientific regret with which + the illustrious Majendie might contemplate a dog which some brute of a + master refused to disembowel for the good of the colics of mankind. + </p> + <p> + The model seized on the cage, shut the door of the wires, and carried it + off. Tom Varney drained the rest of his porter, and wiped his forehead + with the sleeve of his coat. + </p> + <p> + “And to use my pipe for such cruelty! Boy, boy, I could not have believed + it! But you were not in earnest; oh, no, impossible! Sukey, my love—Galatea + the divine—calm thy breast; Cupid did but jest. + </p> + <p> + ‘Cupid is the God of Laughter, Quip and jest and joke, sir.’” + </p> + <p> + “If you don’t whip the little wretch within an inch of his life, he’ll + have a gallows end on’t,” replied Galatea. + </p> + <p> + “Go, Cupid, go and kiss Galatea, and make your peace. + </p> + <p> + `Oh, leave a kiss within the cup, And I’ll not ask for wine.’ + </p> + <p> + And ‘t is no use asking for wine, or for gin either,—not a drop in + the noggin!” + </p> + <p> + All this while Gabriel, disdaining the recommendations held forth to him, + was employed in brushing his jacket with a very mangy-looking brush; and + when he had completed that operation he approached his uncle, and coolly + thrust his hands into that gentleman’s waistcoat-pockets. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle, what have you done with those seven shillings? I am going out to + spend the day.” + </p> + <p> + “If you give them to him, Tom, I’ll scratch your eyes out,” cried the + model; “and then we’ll see how you’ll sing. Whip him, I say, whip him!” + </p> + <p> + But, strange to say, this liberty of the boy quite reopened the heart of + his uncle,—it was a pleasure to him, who put his hands so habitually + into other people’s pockets, to be invested with the novel grandeur of the + man sponged upon. “That’s right, Cupid, son of Cytherea; all’s common + property amongst friends. Seven shillings, I have ‘em not. ‘They now are + five who once were seven;’ but such as they are, we’ll share. + </p> + <p> + ‘Let old Timotheus yield the prize, Or both divide the crown.’” + </p> + <p> + “Crowns bear no division, my uncle,” said Gabriel, dryly; and he pocketed + the five shillings. Then, having first secured his escape by gaining the + threshold, he suddenly seized one of the rickety chairs by its leg, and + regardless of the gallantries due to the sex, sent it right against the + model, who was shaking her fist at him. A scream and a fall and a sharp + twit from the cage, which was hurled nearly into the fireplace, told that + the missive had taken effect. Gabriel did not wait for the probable + reaction; he was in the streets in an instant. “This won’t do,” he + muttered to himself; “there is no getting on here. Foolish drunken + vagabond! no good to be got from him. My father is terrible, but he will + make his way in the world. Umph! if I were but his match,—and why + not? I am brave, and he is not. There’s fun, too, in danger.” + </p> + <p> + Thus musing, he took his way to Dalibard’s lodgings. His father was at + home. Now, though they were but lodgings, and the street not in fashion, + Olivier Dalibard’s apartments had an air of refinement, and even elegance, + that contrasted both the wretched squalor of the abode Gabriel had just + left and the meanness of Dalibard’s former quarters in London, The change + seemed to imply that the Provencal had already made some way in the world. + And, truth to say, at all times, even in the lowest ebb of his fortunes, + there was that indescribable neatness and formality of precision about all + the exterior seemings of the ci-devant friend of the prim Robespierre + which belong to those in whom order and method are strongly developed,—qualities + which give even to neediness a certain dignity. As the room and its owner + met the eye of Gabriel, on whose senses all externals had considerable + influence, the ungrateful young ruffian recalled the kind, tattered, + slovenly uncle, whose purse he had just emptied, without one feeling + milder than disgust. Olivier Dalibard, always careful, if simple, in his + dress, with his brow of grave intellectual power, and his mien imposing, + not only from its calm, but from that nameless refinement which rarely + fails to give to the student the air of a gentleman,—Olivier + Dalibard he might dread, he might even detest; but he was not ashamed of + him. + </p> + <p> + “I said I would visit you, sir, if you would permit me,” said Gabriel, in + a tone of respect, not unmingled with some defiance, as if in doubt of his + reception. + </p> + <p> + The father’s slow full eye, so different from the sidelong, furtive glance + of Lucretia, turned on the son, as if to penetrate his very heart. + </p> + <p> + “You look pale and haggard, child; you are fast losing your health and + beauty. Good gifts these, not to be wasted before they can be duly + employed. But you have taken your choice. Be an artist,—copy Tom + Varney, and prosper.” Gabriel remained silent, with his eyes on the floor. + </p> + <p> + “You come in time for my farewell,” resumed Dalibard. “It is a comfort, at + least, that I leave your youth so honourably protected. I am about to + return to my country; my career is once more before me!” + </p> + <p> + “Your country,—to Paris?” + </p> + <p> + “There are fine pictures in the Louvre,—a good place to inspire an + artist!” + </p> + <p> + “You go alone, Father!” + </p> + <p> + “You forget, young gentleman, you disown me as father! Go alone! I thought + I told you in the times of our confidence, that I should marry Lucretia + Clavering. I rarely fail in my plans. She has lost Laughton, it is true; + but 10,000 pounds will make a fair commencement to fortune, even at Paris. + Well, what do you want with me, worthy godson of Honore Gabriel Mirabeau?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir, if you will let me, I will go with you.” + </p> + <p> + Dalibard shaded his brow with his hand, and reflected on the filial + proposal. On the one hand, it might be convenient, and would certainly be + economical, to rid himself evermore of the mutinous son who had already + thrown off his authority; on the other hand, there was much in Gabriel, + mutinous and even menacing as he had lately become, that promised an + unscrupulous tool or a sharp-witted accomplice, with interests that every + year the ready youth would more and more discover were bound up in his + plotting father’s. This last consideration, joined, if not to affection, + still to habit,—to the link between blood and blood, which even the + hardest find it difficult to sever,—prevailed. He extended his pale + hand to Gabriel, and said gently,— + </p> + <p> + “I will take you, if we rightly understand each other. Once again in my + power, I might constrain you to my will, it is true. But I rather confer + with you as man to man than as man to boy.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the best way,” said Gabriel, firmly. + </p> + <p> + “I will use no harshness, inflict no punishment,—unless, indeed, + amply merited by stubborn disobedience or wilful deceit. But if I meet + with these, better rot on a dunghill than come with me! I ask implicit + confidence in all my suggestions, prompt submission to all my requests. + Grant me but these, and I promise to consult your fortune as my own, to + gratify your tastes as far as my means will allow, to grudge not your + pleasures, and when the age for ambition comes, to aid your rise if I rise + myself,—nay, if well contented with you, to remove the blot from + your birth, by acknowledging and adopting you formally as my son.” + </p> + <p> + “Agreed! and I thank you,” said Gabriel. “And Lucretia is going? Oh, I so + long to see her!” + </p> + <p> + “See her—not yet; but next week.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not fear that I should let out about the letter. I should betray + myself if I did,” said the boy, bluntly betraying his guess at his + father’s delay. + </p> + <p> + The evil scholar smiled. + </p> + <p> + “You will do well to keep it secret for your own sake; for mine, I should + not fear. Gabriel, go back now to your master,—you do right, like + the rats, to run from the falling house. Next week I will send for you, + Gabriel!” + </p> + <p> + Not, however, back to the studio went the boy. He sauntered leisurely + through the gayest streets, eyed the shops and the equipages, the fair + women and the well-dressed men,—eyed with envy and longings and + visions of pomps and vanities to come; then, when the day began to close, + he sought out a young painter, the wildest and maddest of the crew to whom + his uncle had presented their future comrade and rival, and went with this + youth, at half-price, to the theatre, not to gaze on the actors or study + the play, but to stroll in the saloon. A supper in the Finish completed + the void in his pockets, and concluded his day’s rank experience of life. + By the gray dawn he stole back to his bed, and as he laid himself down, he + thought with avid pleasure of Paris, its gay gardens and brilliant shops + and crowded streets; he thought, too, of his father’s calm confidence of + success, of the triumph that already had attended his wiles,—a + confidence and a triumph which, exciting his reverence and rousing his + emulation, had decided his resolution. He thought, too, of Lucretia with + something of affection, recalled her praises and bribes, her frequent + mediation with his father, and felt that they should have need of each + other. Oh, no, he never would tell her of the snare laid at Guy’s Oak,—never, + not even if incensed with his father. An instinct told him that that + offence could never be forgiven, and that, henceforth, Lucretia’s was a + destiny bound up in his own. He thought, too, of Dalibard’s warning and + threat. But with fear itself came a strange excitement of pleasure,—to + grapple, if necessary, he a mere child, with such a man! His heart swelled + at the thought. So at last he fell asleep, and dreamed that he saw his + mother’s trunkless face dripping gore and frowning on him,—dreamed + that he heard her say: “Goest thou to the scene of my execution only to + fawn upon my murderer?” Then a nightmare of horrors, of scaffolds and + executioners and grinning mobs and agonized faces, came on him,—dark, + confused, and indistinct. And he woke, with his hair standing on end, and + beard below, in the rising sun, the merry song of the poor canary,—trill-lill-lill, + trill-trill-lill-lill-la! Did he feel glad that his cruel hand had been + stayed? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_EPIL" id="link2H_EPIL"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EPILOGUE TO PART THE FIRST. + </h2> + <p> + It is a year since the November day on which Lucretia Clavering quitted + the roof of Mr. Fielden. And first we must recall the eye of the reader to + the old-fashioned terrace at Laughton,—the jutting porch, the quaint + balustrades, the broad, dark, changeless cedars on the lawn beyond. The + day is calm, clear, and mild, for November in the country is often a + gentle month. On that terrace walked Charles Vernon, now known by his new + name of St. John. Is it the change of name that has so changed the person? + Can the wand of the Herald’s Office have filled up the hollows of the + cheek, and replaced by elastic vigour the listless languor of the tread? + No; there is another and a better cause for that healthful change. Mr. + Vernon St. John is not alone,—a fair companion leans on his arm. + See, she pauses to press closer to his side, gaze on his face, and + whisper, “We did well to have hope and faith!” + </p> + <p> + The husband’s faith had not been so unshaken as his Mary’s, and a slight + blush passed over his cheek as he thought of his concession to Sir Miles’s + wishes, and his overtures to Lucretia Clavering. Still, that fault had + been fairly acknowledged to his wife, and she felt, the moment she had + spoken, that she had committed an indiscretion; nevertheless, with an arch + touch of womanly malice she added softly,— + </p> + <p> + “And Miss Clavering, you persist in saying, was not really handsome?” + </p> + <p> + “My love,” replied the husband, gravely, “you would oblige me by not + recalling the very painful recollections connected with that name. Let it + never be mentioned in this house.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Mary bowed her graceful head in submission; she understood Charles’s + feelings. For though he had not shown her Sir Miles’s letter and its + enclosure, he had communicated enough to account for the unexpected + heritage, and to lessen his wife’s compassion for the disappointed + heiress. Nevertheless, she comprehended that her husband felt an uneasy + twinge at the idea that he was compelled to act hardly to the one whose + hopes he had supplanted. Lucretia’s banishment from Laughton was a just + humiliation, but it humbled a generous heart to inflict the sentence. + Thus, on all accounts, the remembrance of Lucretia was painful and + unwelcome to the successor of Sir Miles. There was a silence; Lady Mary + pressed her husband’s hand. + </p> + <p> + “It is strange,” said he, giving vent to his thoughts at that tender sign + of sympathy in his feeling,—“strange that, after all, she did not + marry Mainwaring, but fixed her choice on that subtle Frenchman. But she + has settled abroad now, perhaps for life; a great relief to my mind. Yes, + let us never recur to her.” + </p> + <p> + “Fortunately,” said Lady Mary, with some hesitation, “she does not seem to + have created much interest here. The poor seldom name her to me, and our + neighbours only with surprise at her marriage. In another year she will be + forgotten!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. St. John sighed. Perhaps he felt how much more easily he had been + forgotten, were he the banished one, Lucretia the possessor! His light + nature, however, soon escaped from all thoughts and sources of annoyance, + and he listened with complacent attention to Lady Mary’s gentle plans for + the poor, and the children’s school, and the cottages that ought to be + repaired, and the labourers that ought to be employed. For though it may + seem singular, Vernon St. John, insensibly influenced by his wife’s meek + superiority, and corrected by her pure companionship, had begun to feel + the charm of innocent occupations,—more, perhaps, than if he had + been accustomed to the larger and loftier excitements of life, and missed + that stir of intellect which is the element of those who have warred in + the democracy of letters, or contended for the leadership of States. He + had begun already to think that the country was no such exile after all. + Naturally benevolent, he had taught himself to share the occupations his + Mary had already found in the busy “luxury of doing good,” and to conceive + that brotherhood of charity which usually unites the lord of the village + with its poor. + </p> + <p> + “I think, what with hunting once a week,—I will not venture more + till my pain in the side is quite gone,—and with the help of some + old friends at Christmas, we can get through the winter very well, Mary.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, those old friends, I dread them more than the hunting!” + </p> + <p> + “But we’ll have your grave father and your dear, precise, excellent mother + to keep us in order. And if I sit more than half an hour after dinner, the + old butler shall pull me out by the ears. Mary, what do you say to + thinning the grove yonder? We shall get a better view of the landscape + beyond. No, hang it! dear old Sir Miles loved his trees better than the + prospect; I won’t lop a bough. But that avenue we are planting will be + certainly a noble improvement—” + </p> + <p> + “Fifty years hence, Charles!” + </p> + <p> + “It is our duty to think of posterity,” answered the ci-devant + spendthrift, with a gravity that was actually pompous. “But hark! is that + two o’clock? Three, by Jove! How time flies! and my new bullocks that I + was to see at two! Come down to the farm, that’s my own Mary. Ah, your + fine ladies are not such bad housewives after all!” + </p> + <p> + “And your fine gentlemen—” + </p> + <p> + “Capital farmers! I had no idea till last week that a prize ox was so + interesting an animal. One lives to learn. Put me in mind, by the by, to + write to Coke about his sheep.” + </p> + <p> + “This way, dear Charles; we can go round by the village,—and see + poor Ponto and Dash.” + </p> + <p> + The tears rushed to Mr. St. John’s eyes. “If poor Sir Miles could have + known you!” he said, with a sigh; and though the gardeners were at work on + the lawn, he bowed his head and kissed the blushing cheek of his wife as + heartily as if he had been really a farmer. + </p> + <p> + From the terrace at Laughton, turn to the humbler abode of our old friend + the vicar,—the same day, the same hour. Here also the scene is + without doors,—we are in the garden of the vicarage; the children + are playing at hide-and-seek amongst the espaliers which screen the + winding gravel-walks from the esculents more dear to Ceres than to Flora. + The vicar is seated in his little parlour, from which a glazed door admits + into the garden. The door is now open, and the good man has paused from + his work (he had just discovered a new emendation in the first chorus of + the “Medea”) to look out at the rosy faces that gleam to and fro across + the scene. His wife, with a basket in her hand, is standing without the + door, but a little aside, not to obstruct the view. + </p> + <p> + “It does one’s heart good to see them,” said the vicar, “little dears!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they ought to be dear at this time of the year,” observed Mrs. + Fielden, who was absorbed in the contents of the basket. + </p> + <p> + “And so fresh!” + </p> + <p> + “Fresh, indeed,—how different from London! In London they were not + fit to be seen,—as old as—-I am sure I can’t guess how old + they were. But you see here they are new laid every morning!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” said Mr. Fielden, opening his eyes,—“new laid every + morning!” + </p> + <p> + “Two dozen and four.” + </p> + <p> + “Two dozen and four! What on earth are you talking about, Mrs. Fielden?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the eggs, to be sure, my love!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said the vicar, “two dozen and four! You alarmed me a little; ‘t is + of no consequence,—only my foolish mistake. Always prudent and + saving, my dear Sarah,—just as if poor Sir Miles had not left us + that munificent fortune, I may call it.” + </p> + <p> + “It will not go very far when we have our young ones to settle. And David + is very extravagant already; he has torn such a hole in his jacket!” + </p> + <p> + At this moment up the gravel-walk two young persons came in sight. The + children darted across them, whooping and laughing, and vanished in the + further recess of the garden. + </p> + <p> + “All is for the best, blind mortals that we are; all is for the best,” + said the vicar, musingly, as his eyes rested upon the approaching pair. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, my love; you are always right, and it is wicked to grumble. + Still, if you saw what a hole it was,—past patching, I fear!” + </p> + <p> + “Look round,” said Mr. Fielden, benevolently. “How we grieved for them + both; how wroth we were with William,—how sad for Susan! And now see + them; they will be the better man and wife for their trial.” + </p> + <p> + “Has Susan then consented? I was almost afraid she never would consent. + How often have I been almost angry with her, poor lamb, when I have heard + her accuse herself of causing her sister’s unhappiness, and declare with + sobs that she felt it a crime to think of William Mainwaring as a + husband.” + </p> + <p> + “I trust I have reasoned her out of a morbid sensibility which, while it + could not have rendered Lucretia the happier, must have insured the + wretchedness of herself and William. But if Lucretia had not married, and + so forever closed the door on William’s repentance (that is, supposing he + did repent), I believe poor Susan would rather have died of a broken heart + than have given her hand to Mainwaring.” + </p> + <p> + “It was an odd marriage of that proud young lady’s, after all,” said Mrs. + Fielden,—“so much older than she; a foreigner, too!” + </p> + <p> + “But he is a very pleasant man, and they have known each other so long. I + did not, however, quite like a sort of cunning he showed, when I came to + reflect on it, in bringing Lucretia back to the house; it looks as if he + had laid a trap for her from the first.” + </p> + <p> + “Ten thousand pounds,—a great catch for a foreigner!” observed Mrs. + Fielden, with the shrewd instinct of her sex; and then she added, in the + spirit of a prudent sympathy equally characteristic: “But I think you say + Mr. Parchmount persuaded her to allow half to be settled on herself. That + will be a hold on him.” + </p> + <p> + “A bad hold, if that be all, Sarah. There is a better,—he is a + learned man and a scholar. Scholars are naturally domestic, and make good + husbands.” + </p> + <p> + “But you know he must be a papist!” said Mrs. Fielden. + </p> + <p> + “Umph!” muttered the vicar, irresolutely. + </p> + <p> + While the worthy couple were thus conversing, Susan and her lover, not + having finished their conference, had turned back through the winding + walk. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” said William, drawing her arm closer to his side, “these + scruples, these fears, are cruel to me as well as to yourself. If you were + no longer existing, I could be nothing to your sister. Nay, even were she + not married, you must know enough of her pride to be assured that I can + retain no place in her affections. What has chanced was not our crime. + Perhaps Heaven designed to save not only us, but herself, from the certain + misery of nuptials so inauspicious!” + </p> + <p> + “If she would but answer one of my letters!” sighed Susan; “or if I could + but know that she were happy and contented!” + </p> + <p> + “Your letters must have miscarried,—you are not sure even of her + address. Rely upon it, she is happy. Do you think that she would a second + time have ‘stooped beneath her’”—Mainwaring’s lip writhed as he + repeated that phrase—“if her feelings had not been involved? I would + not wrong your sister,—I shall ever feel gratitude for the past, and + remorse for my own shameful weakness; still, I must think that the nature + of her attachment to me was more ardent than lasting.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, William, how can you know her heart?” + </p> + <p> + “By comparing it with yours. Oh, there indeed I may anchor my faith! + Susan, we were formed for each other! Our natures are alike, save that + yours, despite its surpassing sweetness, has greater strength in its + simple candour. You will be my guide to good. Without you I should have no + aim in life, no courage to front the contests of this world. Ah, this hand + trembles still!” + </p> + <p> + “William, William, I cannot repress a foreboding, a superstition! At night + I am haunted with that pale face as I saw it last,—pale with + suppressed despair. Oh, if ever Lucretia could have need of us,—need + of our services, our affections,—if we could but repair the grief we + have caused her!” + </p> + <p> + Susan’s head sank on her lover’s shoulder. She had said “need of us,” + “need of our services.” In those simple monosyllables the union was + pledged, the identity of their lots in the dark urn was implied. + </p> + <p> + From this scene turn again; the slide shifts in the lantern,—we are + at Paris. In the antechamber at the Tuileries a crowd of expectant + courtiers and adventurers gaze upon a figure who passes with modest and + downcast eyes through the throng; he has just left the closet of the First + Consul. + </p> + <p> + “Par Dieu!” said B——, “power, like misery, makes us acquainted + with strange bedfellows. I should like to hear what the First Consul can + have to say to Olivier Dalibard.” + </p> + <p> + Fouche, who at that period was scheming for the return to his old + dignities of minister of police, smiled slightly, and answered: “In a time + when the air is filled with daggers, one who was familiar with Robespierre + has his uses. Olivier Dalibard is a remarkable man. He is one of those + children of the Revolution whom that great mother is bound to save.” + </p> + <p> + “By betraying his brethren?” said B——, dryly. + </p> + <p> + “I do not allow the inference. The simple fact is that Dalibard has spent + many years in England; he has married an Englishwoman of birth and + connections; he knows well the English language and the English people; + and just now when the First Consul is so anxious to approfondir the + popular feelings of that strange nation, with whose government he is + compelled to go to war, he may naturally have much to say to so acute an + observer as Olivier Dalibard.” + </p> + <p> + “Um!” said B——; “with such patronage, Robespierre’s friend + should hold his head somewhat higher!” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Olivier Dalibard, crossing the gardens of the palace, took his + way to the Faubourg St. Germain. There was no change in the aspect of this + man: the same meditative tranquillity characterized his downward eyes and + bonded brow; the same precise simplicity of dress which had pleased the + prim taste of Robespierre gave decorum to his slender, stooping form. No + expression more cheerful, no footstep more elastic, bespoke the exile’s + return to his native land, or the sanguine expectations of Intellect + restored to a career. Yet, to all appearance, the prospects of Dalibard + were bright and promising. The First Consul was at that stage of his + greatness when he sought to employ in his service all such talent as the + Revolution had made manifest, provided only that it was not stained with + notorious bloodshed, or too strongly associated with the Jacobin clubs. + His quick eye seemed to have discovered already the abilities of Dalibard, + and to have appreciated the sagacity and knowledge of men which had + enabled this subtle person to obtain the friendship of Robespierre, + without sharing in his crimes. He had been frequently closeted with + Bonaparte; he was in the declared favour of Fouche, who, though not at + that period at the head of the police, was too necessary amidst the + dangers of the time, deepened as they were by the rumours of some terrible + and profound conspiracy, to be laid aside, as the First Consul had at one + moment designed. One man alone, of those high in the State, appeared to + distrust Olivier Dalibard,—the celebrated Cambaceres. But with his + aid the Provencal could dispense. What was the secret of Dalibard’s power? + Was it, in truth, owing solely to his native talent, and his acquired + experience, especially of England? Was it by honourable means that he had + won the ear of the First Consul? We may be sure of the contrary; for it is + a striking attribute of men once thoroughly tainted by the indulgence of + vicious schemes and stratagems that they become wholly blinded to those + plain paths of ambition which common-sense makes manifest to ordinary + ability. If we regard narrowly the lives of great criminals, we are often + very much startled by the extraordinary acuteness, the profound + calculation, the patient, meditative energy which they have employed upon + the conception and execution of a crime. We feel inclined to think that + such intellectual power would have commanded great distinction, worthily + used and guided; but we never find that these great criminals seem to have + been sensible of the opportunities to real eminence which they have thrown + away. Often we observe that there have been before them vistas into + worldly greatness which, by no uncommon prudence and exertion, would have + conducted honest men half as clever to fame and power; but, with a strange + obliquity of vision, they appear to have looked from these broad clear + avenues into some dark, tangled defile, in which, by the subtlest + ingenuity, and through the most besetting perils, they might attain at + last to the success of a fraud or the enjoyment of a vice. In crime once + indulged there is a wonderful fascination, and the fascination is, not + rarely, great in proportion to the intellect of the criminal. There is + always hope of reform for a dull, uneducated, stolid man, led by accident + or temptation into guilt; but where a man of great ability, and highly + educated, besots himself in the intoxication of dark and terrible + excitements, takes impure delight in tortuous and slimy ways, the good + angel abandons him forever. + </p> + <p> + Olivier Dalibard walked musingly on, gained a house in one of the most + desolate quarters of the abandoned faubourg, mounted the spacious stairs, + and rang at the door of an attic next the roof. After some moments the + door was slowly and cautiously opened, and two small, fierce eyes, peering + through a mass of black, tangled curls, gleamed through the aperture. The + gaze seemed satisfactory. + </p> + <p> + “Enter, friend,” said the inmate, with a sort of complacent grunt; and as + Dalibard obeyed, the man reclosed and barred the door. + </p> + <p> + The room was bare to beggary; the ceiling, low and sloping, was blackened + with smoke. A wretched bed, two chairs, a table, a strong chest, a small + cracked looking-glass, completed the inventory. The dress of the occupier + was not in keeping with the chamber; true that it was not such as was worn + by the wealthier classes, but it betokened no sign of poverty. A blue coat + with high collar, and half of military fashion, was buttoned tight over a + chest of vast girth; the nether garments were of leather, scrupulously + clean, and solid, heavy riding-boots came half-way up the thigh. A more + sturdy, stalwart, strong-built knave never excited the admiration which + physical power always has a right to command; and Dalibard gazed on him + with envy. The pale scholar absolutely sighed as he thought what an + auxiliary to his own scheming mind would have been so tough a frame! + </p> + <p> + But even less in form than face did the man of thews and sinews contrast + the man of wile and craft. Opposite that high forehead, with its massive + development of organs, scowled the low front of one to whom thought was + unfamiliar,—protuberant, indeed, over the shaggy brows, where + phrenologists place the seats of practical perception, strongly marked in + some of the brutes, as in the dog, but almost literally void of those + higher organs by which we reason and imagine and construct. But in rich + atonement for such deficiency, all the animal reigned triumphant in the + immense mass and width of the skull behind. And as the hair, long before, + curled in close rings to the nape of the bull-like neck, you saw before + you one of those useful instruments to ambition and fraud which recoil at + no danger, comprehend no crime, are not without certain good qualities, + under virtuous guidance,—for they have the fidelity, the obedience, + the stubborn courage of the animal,—but which, under evil control, + turn those very qualities to unsparing evil: bull-dogs to rend the foe, as + bull-dogs to defend the master. + </p> + <p> + For some moments the two men gazed, silently at each other. At length + Dalibard said, with an air of calm superiority,— + </p> + <p> + “My friend, it is time that I should be presented to the chiefs of your + party!” + </p> + <p> + “Chiefs, par tous les diables!” growled the other; “we Chouans are all + chiefs, when it comes to blows. You have seen my credentials; you know + that I am a man to be trusted: what more do you need?” + </p> + <p> + “For myself nothing; but my friends are more scrupulous. I have sounded, + as I promised, the heads of the old Jacobin party, and they are + favourable. This upstart soldier, who has suddenly seized in his iron + grasp all the fruits of the Revolution, is as hateful to them as to you. + But que voulez vous, mon cher? men are men! It is one thing to destroy + Bonaparte; it is another thing to restore the Bourbons. How can the + Jacobin chiefs depend on your assurance, or my own, that the Bourbons will + forget the old offences and reward the new service? You apprise me—so + do your credentials—that a prince of the blood is engaged in this + enterprise, that he will appear at the proper season. Put me in direct + communication with this representative of the Bourbons, and I promise in + return, if his assurances are satisfactory, that you shall have an emeute, + to be felt from Paris to Marseilles. If you cannot do this, I am useless; + and I withdraw—” + </p> + <p> + “Withdraw! Garde a vous, Monsieur le Savant! No man withdraws alive from a + conspiracy like ours.” + </p> + <p> + We have said before that Olivier Dalibard was not physically brave; and + the look of the Chouan, as those words were said, would have frozen the + blood of many a bolder man. But the habitual hypocrisy of Dalibard enabled + him to disguise his fear, and he replied dryly,— + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le Chouan, it is not by threats that you will gain adherents to + a desperate cause, which, on the contrary, requires mild words and + flattering inducements. If you commit a violence,—a murder,—mon + cher, Paris is not Bretagne; we have a police: you will be discovered.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha, ha! What then? Do you think I fear the guillotine?” + </p> + <p> + “For yourself, no; but for your leaders, yes! If you are discovered, and + arrested for crime, do you fancy that the police will not recognize the + right arm of the terrible George Cadoudal; that they will not guess that + Cadoudal is at Paris; that Cadoudal will not accompany you to the + guillotine?” + </p> + <p> + The Chouan’s face fell. Olivier watched him, and pursued his advantage. + </p> + <p> + “I asked you to introduce to me this shadow of a prince, under which you + would march to a counter-revolution. But I will be more easily contented. + Present me to George Cadoudal, the hero of Morbihan; he is a man in whom I + can trust, and with whom I can deal. What, you hesitate? How do you + suppose enterprises of this nature can be carried on? If, from fear and + distrust of each other, the man you would employ cannot meet the chief who + directs him, there will be delay, confusion, panic, and you will all + perish by the executioner. And for me, Pierre Guillot, consider my + position. I am in some favour with the First Consul; I have a station of + respectability,—a career lies before me. Can you think that I will + hazard these, with my head to boot, like a rash child? Do you suppose + that, in entering into this terrible contest, I would consent to treat + only with subordinates? Do not deceive yourself. Again, I say, tell your + employers that they must confer with me directly, or je m’en lave les + mains.” + </p> + <p> + “I will repeat what you say,” answered Guillot, sullenly, “Is this all?” + </p> + <p> + “All for the present,” said Dalibard, slowly drawing on his gloves, and + retreating towards the door. The Chouan watched him with a suspicious and + sinister eye; and as the Provencal’s hand was on the latch, he laid his + own rough grasp on Dalibard’s shoulder,— + </p> + <p> + “I know not how it is, Monsieur Dalibard, but I mistrust you.” + </p> + <p> + “Distrust is natural and prudent to all who conspire,” replied the + scholar, quietly. “I do not ask you to confide in me. Your employers bade + you seek me: I have mentioned my conditions; let them decide.” + </p> + <p> + “You carry it off well, Monsieur Dalibard, and I am under a solemn oath, + which poor George made me take, knowing me to be a hot-headed, honest + fellow,—mauvaise tete, if you will,—that I will keep my hand + off pistol and knife upon mere suspicion; that nothing less than his word, + or than clear and positive proof of treachery, shall put me out of good + humour and into warm blood. But bear this with you, Monsieur Dalibard: if + I once discover that you use our secrets to betray them; should George see + you, and one hair of his head come to injury through your hands,—I + will wring your neck as a housewife wrings a pullet’s.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t doubt your strength or your ferocity, Pierre Guillot; but my neck + will be safe: you have enough to do to take care of your own. Au revoir.” + </p> + <p> + With a tone and look of calm and fearless irony, the scholar thus spoke, + and left the room; but when he was on the stairs, he paused, and caught at + the balustrade,—the sickness as of terror at some danger past, or to + be, came over him; and this contrast between the self-command, or + simulation, which belongs to moral courage, and the feebleness of natural + and constitutional cowardice, would have been sublime if shown in a noble + cause. In one so corrupt, it but betrayed a nature doubly formidable; for + treachery and murder hatch their brood amidst the folds of a hypocrite’s + cowardice. + </p> + <p> + While thus the interview is going on between Dalibard and the conspirator, + we must bestow a glance upon the Provencal’s home. + </p> + <p> + In an apartment in one of the principal streets between the Boulevards and + the Rue St. Honore, a boy and a woman sat side by side, conversing in + whispers. The boy was Gabriel Varney, the woman Lucretia Dalibard. The + apartment was furnished in the then modern taste, which affected classical + forms; and though not without a certain elegance, had something meagre and + comfortless in its splendid tripods and thin-legged chairs. There was in + the apartment that air which bespeaks the struggle for appearances,—that + struggle familiar to those of limited income and vain aspirings, who want + the taste which smooths all inequalities and gives a smile to home; that + taste which affection seems to prompt, if not to create, which shows + itself in a thousand nameless, costless trifles, each a grace. No sign was + there of the household cares or industry of women. No flowers, no music, + no embroidery-frame, no work-table. Lucretia had none of the sweet + feminine habits which betray so lovelily the whereabout of women. All was + formal and precise, like rooms which we enter and leave,—not those + in which we settle and dwell. + </p> + <p> + Lucretia herself is changed; her air is more assured, her complexion more + pale, the evil character of her mouth more firm and pronounced. + </p> + <p> + Gabriel, still a mere boy in years, has a premature look of man. The down + shades his lip. His dress, though showy and theatrical, is no longer that + of boyhood. His rounded cheek has grown thin, as with the care and thought + which beset the anxious step of youth on entering into life. + </p> + <p> + Both, as before remarked, spoke in whispers; both from time to time + glanced fearfully at the door; both felt that they belonged to a hearth + round which smile not the jocund graces of trust and love and the heart’s + open ease. + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Gabriel,—“but if you would be safe, my father must have + no secrets hid from you.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know that he has. He speaks to me frankly of his hopes, of the + share he has in the discovery of the plot against the First Consul, of his + interviews with Pierre Guillot, the Breton.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, because there your courage supports him, and your acuteness assists + his own. Such secrets belong to his public life, his political schemes; + with those he will trust you. It is his private life, his private + projects, you must know.” + </p> + <p> + “But what does he conceal from me? Apart from politics, his whole mind + seems bent on the very natural object of securing intimacy with his rich + cousin, M. Bellanger, from whom he has a right to expect so large an + inheritance.” + </p> + <p> + “Bellanger is rich, but he is not much older than my father.” + </p> + <p> + “He has bad health.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Gabriel, with a downcast eye and a strange smile, “he has not + bad health; but he may not be long-lived.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you mean?” asked Lucretia, sinking her voice into a still lower + whisper, while a shudder, she scarce knew why, passed over her frame. + </p> + <p> + “What does my father do,” resumed Gabriel, “in that room at the top of the + house? Does he tell you that secret?” + </p> + <p> + “He makes experiments in chemistry. You know that that was always his + favourite study. You smile again! Gabriel, do not smile so; it appalls me. + Do you think there is some mystery in that chamber?” + </p> + <p> + “It matters not what we think, belle-mere; it matters much what we know. + If I were you, I would know what is in that chamber. I repeat, to be safe, + you must have all his secrets, or none. Hush, that is his step!” + </p> + <p> + The door-handle turned noiselessly, and Olivier entered. His look fell on + his son’s face, which betrayed only apparent surprise at his unexpected + return. He then glanced at Lucretia’s, which was, as usual, cold and + impenetrable. + </p> + <p> + “Gabriel,” said Dalibard, gently, “I have come in for you. I have promised + to take you to spend the day at M. Bellanger’s; you are a great favourite + with Madame. Come, my boy. I shall be back soon, Lucretia. I shall but + drop in to leave Gabriel at my cousin’s.” + </p> + <p> + Gabriel rose cheerfully, as if only alive to the expectation of the + bon-bons and compliments he received habitually from Madame Bellanger. + </p> + <p> + “And you can take your drawing implements with you,” continued Dalibard. + “This good M. Bellanger has given you permission to copy his Poussin.” + </p> + <p> + “His Poussin! Ah, that is placed in his bedroom [It is scarcely necessary + to observe that bedchambers in Paris, when forming part of the suite of + reception-rooms, are often decorated no less elaborately than the other + apartments], is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Dalibard, briefly. + </p> + <p> + Gabriel lifted his sharp, bright eyes to his father’s face. Dalibard + turned away. + </p> + <p> + “Come!” he said with some impatience; and the boy took up his hat. + </p> + <p> + In another minute Lucretia was alone. + </p> + <p> + “Alone,” in an English home, is a word implying no dreary solitude to an + accomplished woman; but alone in that foreign land, alone in those + half-furnished, desolate apartments,—few books, no musical + instruments, no companions during the day to drop in,—that + loneliness was wearying. And that mind so morbidly active! In the old + Scottish legend, the spirit that serves the wizard must be kept constantly + employed; suspend its work for a moment, and it rends the enchanter. It is + so with minds that crave for excitement, and live, without relief of heart + and affection, on the hard tasks of the intellect. + </p> + <p> + Lucretia mused over Gabriel’s words and warning: “To be safe, you must + know all his secrets, or none.” What was the secret which Dalibard had not + communicated to her? + </p> + <p> + She rose, stole up the cold, cheerless stairs, and ascended to the attic + which Dalibard had lately hired. It was locked; and she observed that the + lock was small,—so small that the key might be worn in a ring. She + descended, and entered her husband’s usual cabinet, which adjoined the + sitting-room. All the books which the house contained were there,—a + few works on metaphysics, Spinoza in especial, the great Italian + histories, some volumes of statistics, many on physical and mechanical + philosophy, and one or two works of biography and memoirs. No light + literature,—that grace and flower of human culture, that best + philosophy of all, humanizing us with gentle art, making us wise through + the humours, elevated through the passions, tender in the affections of + our kind. She took out one of the volumes that seemed less arid than the + rest, for she was weary of her own thoughts, and began to read. To her + surprise, the first passage she opened was singularly interesting, though + the title was nothing more seductive than the “Life of a Physician of + Padua in the Sixteenth Century.” It related to that singular epoch of + terror in Italy when some mysterious disease, varying in a thousand + symptoms, baffled all remedy, and long defied all conjecture,—a + disease attacking chiefly the heads of families, father and husband; + rarely women. In one city, seven hundred husbands perished, but not one + wife! The disease was poison. The hero of the memoir was one of the + earlier discoverers of the true cause of this household epidemic. He had + been a chief authority in a commission of inquiry. Startling were the + details given in the work,—the anecdotes, the histories, the + astonishing craft brought daily to bear on the victim, the wondrous + perfidy of the subtle means, the variation of the certain murder,—here + swift as epilepsy, there slow and wasting as long decline. The lecture was + absorbing; and absorbed in the book Lucretia still was, when she heard + Dalibard’s voice behind: he was looking over her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “A strange selection for so fair a student! En fant, play not with such + weapons.” + </p> + <p> + “But is this all true?” + </p> + <p> + “True, though scarce a fragment of the truth. The physician was a sorry + chemist and a worse philosopher. He blundered in his analysis of the + means; and if I remember rightly, he whines like a priest at the motives,—for + see you not what was really the cause of this spreading pestilence? It was + the Saturnalia of the Weak,—a burst of mocking license against the + Strong; it was more,—it was the innate force of the individual + waging war against the many.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand you.” + </p> + <p> + “No? In that age, husbands were indeed lords of the household; they + married mere children for their lands; they neglected and betrayed them; + they were inexorable if the wife committed the faults set before her for + example. Suddenly the wife found herself armed against her tyrant. His + life was in her hands. So the weak had no mercy on the strong. But man, + too, was then, even more than now, a lonely wrestler in a crowded arena. + Brute force alone gave him distinction in courts; wealth alone brought him + justice in the halls, or gave him safety in his home. Suddenly the frail + puny lean saw that he could reach the mortal part of his giant foe. The + noiseless sling was in his hand,—it smote Goliath from afar. + Suddenly the poor man, ground to the dust, spat upon by contempt, saw + through the crowd of richer kinsmen, who shunned and bade him rot; saw + those whose death made him heir to lordship and gold and palaces and power + and esteem. As a worm through a wardrobe, that man ate through velvet and + ermine, and gnawed out the hearts that beat in his way. No. A great + intellect can comprehend these criminals, and account for the crime. It is + a mighty thing to feel in one’s self that one is an army,—more than + an army! What thousands and millions of men, with trumpet and banner, and + under the sanction of glory, strive to do,—destroy a foe,—that, + with little more than an effort of the will,—with a drop, a grain, + for all his arsenal,—one man can do!” + </p> + <p> + There was a horrible enthusiasm about this reasoning devil as he spoke + thus; his crest rose, his breast expanded. That animation which a noble + thought gives to generous hearts kindled in the face of the apologist for + the darkest and basest of human crimes. Lucretia shuddered; but her gloomy + imagination was spelled; there was an interest mingled with her terror. + </p> + <p> + “Hush! you appall me,” she said at last, timidly. “But, happily, this + fearful art exists no more to tempt and destroy?” + </p> + <p> + “As a more philosophical discovery, it might be amusing to a chemist to + learn exactly what were the compounds of those ancient poisons,” said + Dalibard, not directly answering the implied question. “Portions of the + art are indeed lost, unless, as I suspect, there is much credulous + exaggeration in the accounts transmitted to us. To kill by a flower, a + pair of gloves, a soap-ball,—kill by means which elude all possible + suspicion,—is it credible? What say you? An amusing research, + indeed, if one had leisure! But enough of this now; it grows late. We dine + with M. de——; he wishes to let his hotel. Why, Lucretia, if we + knew a little of this old art, par Dieu! we could soon hire the hotel! + Well, well; perhaps we may survive my cousin Jean Bellanger!” + </p> + <p> + Three days afterwards, Lucretia stood by her husband’s side in the secret + chamber. From the hour when she left it, a change was perceptible in her + countenance, which gradually removed from it the character of youth. Paler + the cheek could scarce become, nor more cold the discontented, restless + eye. But it was as if some great care had settled on her brow, and + contracted yet more the stern outline of the lips. Gabriel noted the + alteration, but he did not attempt to win her confidence. He was occupied + rather in considering, first, if it were well for him to sound deeper into + the mystery he suspected; and, secondly, to what extent, and on what + terms, it became his interest to aid the designs in which, by Dalibard’s + hints and kindly treatment, he foresaw that he was meant to participate. + </p> + <p> + A word now on the rich kinsman of the Dalibards. Jean Bellanger had been + one of those prudent Republicans who had put the Revolution to profit. By + birth a Marseillais, he had settled in Paris, as an epicier, about the + year 1785, and had distinguished himself by the adaptability and finesse + which become those who fish in such troubled waters. He had sided with + Mirabeau, next with Vergniaud and the Girondins. These he forsook in time + for Danton, whose facile corruptibility made him a seductive patron. He + was a large purchaser in the sale of the emigrant property; he obtained a + contract for the supply of the army in the Netherlands; he abandoned + Danton as he had abandoned the Girondins, but without taking any active + part in the after-proceedings of the Jacobins. His next connection was + with Tallien and Barras, and he enriched himself yet more under the + Directory than he had done in the earlier stages of the Revolution. Under + cover of an appearance of bonhomie and good humour, a frank laugh and an + open countenance, Jean Bellanger had always retained general popularity + and good-will, and was one of those whom the policy of the First Consul + led him to conciliate. He had long since retired from the more vulgar + departments of trade, but continued to flourish as an army contractor. He + had a large hotel and a splendid establishment; he was one of the great + capitalists of Paris. The relationship between Dalibard and Bellanger was + not very close,—it was that of cousins twice removed; and during + Dalibard’s previous residence at Paris, each embracing different parties, + and each eager in his career, the blood-tie between them had not been much + thought of, though they were good friends, and each respected the other + for the discretion with which he had kept aloof from the more sanguinary + excesses of the time. As Bellanger was not many years older than Dalibard; + as the former had but just married in the year 1791, and had naturally + before him the prospect of a family; as his fortunes at that time, though + rising, were unconfirmed; and as some nearer relations stood between them, + in the shape of two promising, sturdy nephews,—Dalibard had not then + calculated on any inheritance from his cousin. On his return, + circumstances were widely altered: Bellanger had been married some years, + and no issue had blessed his nuptials. His nephews, draughted into the + conscription, had perished in Egypt. Dalibard apparently became his + nearest relative. + </p> + <p> + To avarice or to worldly ambition there was undoubtedly something very + dazzling in the prospect thus opened to the eyes of Olivier Dalibard. The + contractor’s splendid mode of living, vying with that of the + fermier-general of old, the colossal masses of capital by which he backed + and supported speculations that varied with an ingenuity rendered + practical and profound by experience, inflamed into fever the morbid + restlessness of fancy and intellect which characterized the evil scholar; + for that restlessness seemed to supply to his nature vices not + constitutional to it. Dalibard had not the avarice that belongs either to + a miser or a spendthrift. In his youth, his books and the simple desires + of an abstract student sufficed to his wants, and a habit of method and + order, a mechanical calculation which accompanied all his acts, from the + least to the greatest, preserved him, even when most poor, from neediness + and want. Nor was he by nature vain and ostentatious,—those + infirmities accompany a larger and more luxurious nature. His philosophy + rather despised, than inclined to, show. Yet since to plot and to scheme + made his sole amusement, his absorbing excitement, so a man wrapped in + himself, and with no generous ends in view, has little to plot or to + scheme for but objects of worldly aggrandizement. In this Dalibard + resembled one whom the intoxication of gambling has mastered, who neither + wants nor greatly prizes the stake, but who has grown wedded to the + venture for it. It was a madness like that of a certain rich nobleman in + our own country who, with more money than he could spend, and with a skill + in all games where skill enters that would have secured him success of + itself, having learned the art of cheating, could not resist its + indulgence. No hazard, no warning, could restrain him,—cheat he + must; the propensity became iron-strong as a Greek destiny. + </p> + <p> + That the possible chance of an inheritance so magnificent should dazzle + Lucretia and Gabriel, was yet more natural; for in them it appealed to + more direct and eloquent, though not more powerful, propensities. Gabriel + had every vice which the greed of gain most irritates and excites. Intense + covetousness lay at the core of his heart; he had the sensual temperament, + which yearns for every enjoyment, and takes pleasure in every pomp and + show of life. Lucretia, with a hardness of mind that disdained luxury, and + a certain grandeur (if such a word may be applied to one so perverted) + that was incompatible with the sordid infirmities of the miser, had a + determined and insatiable ambition, to which gold was a necessary + instrument. Wedded to one she loved, like Mainwaring, the ambition, as we + have said in a former chapter, could have lived in another, and become + devoted to intellectual efforts, in the nobler desire for power based on + fame and genius. But now she had the gloomy cravings of one fallen, and + the uneasy desire to restore herself to a lost position; she fed as an + aliment upon scorn to bitterness of all beings and all things around her. + She was gnawed by that false fever which riots in those who seek by + outward seemings and distinctions to console themselves for the want of + their own self-esteem, or who, despising the world with which they are + brought in contact, sigh for those worldly advantages which alone justify + to the world itself their contempt. + </p> + <p> + To these diseased infirmities of vanity or pride, whether exhibited in + Gabriel or Lucretia, Dalibard administered without apparent effort, not + only by his conversation, but his habits of life. He mixed with those much + wealthier than himself, but not better born; those who, in the hot and + fierce ferment of that new society, were rising fast into new aristocracy,—the + fortunate soldiers, daring speculators, plunderers of many an argosy that + had been wrecked in the Great Storm. Every one about them was actuated by + the keen desire “to make a fortune;” the desire was contagious. They were + not absolutely poor in the proper sense of the word “poverty,” with + Dalibard’s annuity and the interest of Lucretia’s fortune; but they were + poor compared to those with whom they associated,—poor enough for + discontent. Thus, the image of the mighty wealth from which, perhaps, but + a single life divided them, became horribly haunting. To Gabriel’s sensual + vision the image presented itself in the shape of unlimited pleasure and + prodigal riot; to Lucretia it wore the solemn majesty of power; to + Dalibard himself it was but the Eureka of a calculation,—the + palpable reward of wile and scheme and dexterous combinations. The devil + had temptations suited to each. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, the Dalibards were more and more with the Bellangers. Olivier + glided in to talk of the chances and changes of the State and the market. + Lucretia sat for hours listening mutely to the contractor’s boasts of past + frauds, or submitting to the martyrdom of his victorious games at + tric-trac. Gabriel, a spoiled darling, copied the pictures on the walls, + complimented Madame, flattered Monsieur, and fawned on both for trinkets + and crowns. Like three birds of night and omen, these three evil natures + settled on the rich man’s roof. + </p> + <p> + Was the rich man himself blind to the motives which budded forth into such + attentive affection? His penetration was too acute, his ill opinion of + mankind too strong, perhaps, for such amiable self-delusions. But he took + all in good part; availed himself of Dalibard’s hints and suggestions as + to the employment of his capital; was polite to Lucretia, and readily + condemned her to be beaten at tric-trac; while he accepted with bonhomie + Gabriel’s spirited copies of his pictures. But at times there was a gleam + of satire and malice in his round gray eyes, and an inward chuckle at the + caresses and flatteries he received, which perplexed Dalibard and humbled + Lucretia. Had his wealth been wholly at his own disposal, these signs + would have been inauspicious; but the new law was strict, and the bulk of + Bellanger’s property could not be alienated from his nearest kin. Was not + Dalibard the nearest? + </p> + <p> + These hopes and speculations did not, as we have seen, absorb the restless + and rank energies of Dalibard’s crooked, but capacious and grasping + intellect. Patiently and ingeniously he pursued his main political object,—the + detection of that audacious and complicated conspiracy against the First + Consul, which ended in the tragic deaths of Pichegru, the Duc d’Enghien, + and the erring but illustrious hero of La Vendee, George Cadoudal. In the + midst of these dark plots for personal aggrandizement and political + fortune, we leave, for the moment, the sombre, sullen soul of Olivier + Dalibard. + </p> + <p> + Time has passed on, and spring is over the world. The seeds buried in the + earth burst to flower; but man’s breast knoweth not the sweet division of + the seasons. In winter or summer, autumn or spring alike, his thoughts sow + the germs of his actions, and day after day his destiny gathers in her + harvests. + </p> + <p> + The joy-bells ring clear through the groves of Laughton,—an heir is + born to the old name and fair lands of St. John. And, as usual, the + present race welcomes merrily in that which shall succeed and replace it,—that + which shall thrust the enjoyers down into the black graves, and wrest from + them the pleasant goods of the world. The joy-bell of birth is a note of + warning to the knell for the dead; it wakes the worms beneath the mould: + the new-born, every year that it grows and flourishes, speeds the parent + to their feast. Yet who can predict that the infant shall become the heir? + Who can tell that Death sits not side by side with the nurse at the + cradle? Can the mother’s hand measure out the woof of the Parcae, or the + father’s eye detect through the darkness of the morrow the gleam of the + fatal shears? + </p> + <p> + It is market-day at a town in the midland districts of England. There + Trade takes its healthiest and most animated form. You see not the stunted + form and hollow eye of the mechanic,—poor slave of the capitalist, + poor agent and victim of the arch disequalizer, Civilization. There + strides the burly form of the farmer; there waits the ruddy hind with his + flock; there, patient, sits the miller with his samples of corn; there, in + the booths, gleam the humble wares which form the luxuries of cottage and + farm. The thronging of men, and the clacking of whips, and the dull sound + of wagon or dray, that parts the crowd as it passes, and the lowing of + herds and the bleating of sheep,—all are sounds of movement and + bustle, yet blend with the pastoral associations of the primitive + commerce, when the link between market and farm was visible and direct. + </p> + <p> + Towards one large house in the centre of the brisk life ebbing on, you + might see stream after stream pour its way. The large doors swinging light + on their hinges, the gilt letters that shine above the threshold, the + windows, with their shutters outside cased in iron and studded with nails, + announce that that house is the bank of the town. Come in with that yeoman + whose broad face tells its tale, sheepish and down-eyed,—he has + come, not to invest, but to borrow. What matters? War is breaking out + anew, to bring the time of high prices and paper money and credit. Honest + yeoman, you will not be refused. He scratches his rough head, pulls a leg, + as he calls it, when the clerk leans over the counter, and asks to see + “Muster Mawnering hisself.” The clerk points to the little office-room of + the new junior partner, who has brought 10,000 pounds and a clear head to + the firm. And the yeoman’s great boots creak heavily in. I told you so, + honest yeoman; you come out with a smile on your brown face, and your + hand, that might fell an ox, buttons up your huge breeches pocket. You + will ride home with a light heart; go and dine, and be merry. + </p> + <p> + The yeoman tramps to the ordinary; plates clatter, tongues wag, and the + borrower’s full heart finds vent in a good word for that kind “Muster + Mawnering.” For a wonder, all join in the praise. “He’s an honour to the + town; he’s a pride to the country. Thof he’s such a friend at a pinch, + he’s a rale mon of business. He’ll make the baunk worth a million! And how + well he spoke at the great county meeting about the war, and the laund, + and them bloodthirsty Mounseers! If their members were loike him, Muster + Fox would look small!” + </p> + <p> + The day declines; the town empties; whiskeys, horses, and carts are giving + life to the roads and the lanes; and the market is deserted, and the bank + is shut up, and William Mainwaring walks back to his home at the skirts of + the town. Not villa nor cottage, that plain English house, with its + cheerful face of red brick, and its solid squareness of shape,—a + symbol of substance in the fortunes of the owner! Yet as he passes, he + sees through the distant trees the hall of the member for the town. He + pauses a moment, and sighs unquietly. That pause and that sigh betray the + germ of ambition and discontent. Why should not he, who can speak so well, + be member for the town, instead of that stammering squire? But his reason + has soon silenced the querulous murmur. He hastens his step,—he is + at home! And there, in the neat-furnished drawing-room, which looks on the + garden behind, hisses the welcoming tea-urn; and the piano is open, and + there is a packet of new books on the table; and, best of all, there is + the glad face of the sweet English wife. The happy scene was + characteristic of the time, just when the simpler and more innocent + luxuries of the higher class spread, not to spoil, but refine the middle. + The dress, air, mien, movements of the young couple; the unassuming, + suppressed, sober elegance of the house; the flower-garden, the books, and + the music, evidences of cultivated taste, not signals of display,—all + bespoke the gentle fusion of ranks before rude and uneducated wealth, made + in looms and lucky hits, rushed in to separate forever the gentleman from + the parvenu. + </p> + <p> + Spring smiles over Paris, over the spires of Notre Dame and the crowded + alleys of the Tuileries, over thousands and thousands eager, joyous, + aspiring, reckless,—the New Race of France, bound to one man’s + destiny, children of glory and of carnage, whose blood the wolf and the + vulture scent, hungry, from afar! + </p> + <p> + The conspiracy against the life of the First Consul has been detected and + defeated. Pichegru is in prison, George Cadoudal awaits his trial, the Duc + d’Enghien sleeps in his bloody grave; the imperial crown is prepared for + the great soldier, and the great soldier’s creatures bask in the noonday + sun. Olivier Dalibard is in high and lucrative employment; his rise is + ascribed to his talents, his opinions. No service connected with the + detection of the conspiracy is traced or traceable by the public eye. If + such exist, it is known but to those who have no desire to reveal it. The + old apartments are retained, but they are no longer dreary and comfortless + and deserted. They are gay with draperies and ormolu and mirrors; and + Madame Dalibard has her nights of reception, and Monsieur Dalibard has + already his troops of clients. In that gigantic concentration of egotism + which under Napoleon is called the State, Dalibard has found his place. He + has served to swell the power of the unit, and the cipher gains importance + by its position in the sum. + </p> + <p> + Jean Bellanger is no more. He died, not suddenly, and yet of some quick + disease,—nervous exhaustion; his schemes, they said, had worn him + out. But the state of Dalibard, though prosperous, is not that of the heir + to the dead millionnaire. What mistake is this? The bulk of that wealth + must go to the nearest kin,—so runs the law. But the will is read; + and, for the first time, Olivier Dalibard learns that the dead man had a + son,—a son by a former marriage,—the marriage undeclared, + unknown, amidst the riot of the Revolution; for the wife was the daughter + of a proscrit. The son had been reared at a distance, put to school at + Lyons, and unavowed to the second wife, who had brought an ample dower, + and whom that discovery might have deterred from the altar. Unacknowledged + through life, in death at least the son’s rights are proclaimed; and + Olivier Dalibard feels that Jean Bellanger has died in vain! For days has + the pale Provencal been closeted with lawyers; but there is no hope in + litigation. The proofs of the marriage, the birth, the identity, come out + clear and clearer; and the beardless schoolboy at Lyons reaps all the + profit of those nameless schemes and that mysterious death. Olivier + Dalibard desires the friendship, the intimacy of the heir; but the heir is + consigned to the guardianship of a merchant at Lyons, near of kin to his + mother, and the guardian responds but coldly to Olivier’s letters. + Suddenly the defeated aspirant seems reconciled to his loss. The widow + Bellanger has her own separate fortune, and it is large beyond + expectation. In addition to the wealth she brought the deceased, his + affection had led him to invest vast sums in her name. The widow then is + rich,—rich as the heir himself. She is still fair. Poor woman, she + needs consolation! But, meanwhile, the nights of Olivier Dalibard are + disturbed and broken. His eye in the daytime is haggard and anxious; he is + seldom seen on foot in the streets. Fear is his companion by day, and sits + at night on his pillow. The Chouan, Pierre Guillot, who looked to George + Cadoudal as a god, knows that George Cadoudal has been betrayed, and + suspects Olivier Dalibard; and the Chouan has an arm of iron, and a heart + steeled against all mercy. Oh, how the pale scholar thirsted for that + Chouan’s blood! With what relentless pertinacity, with what ingenious + research, he had set all the hounds of the police upon the track of that + single man! How notably he had failed! An avenger lived; and Olivier + Dalibard started at his own shadow on the wall. But he did not the less + continue to plot and to intrigue—nay, such occupation became more + necessary, as an escape from himself. + </p> + <p> + And in the mean while, Olivier Dalibard sought to take courage from the + recollection that the Chouan had taken an oath (and he knew that oaths are + held sacred with the Bretons) that he would keep his hand from his knife + unless he had clear evidence of treachery; such evidence existed, but only + in Dalibard’s desk or the archives of Fouche. Tush, he was safe! And so, + when from dreams of fear he started at the depth of night, so his bolder + wife would whisper to him with firm, uncaressing lips: “Olivier Dalibard, + thou fearest the living: dost thou never fear the dead? Thy dreams are + haunted with a spectre. Why takes it not the accusing shape of thy + mouldering kinsman?” and Dalibard would answer, for he was a philosopher + in his cowardice: “Il n’y a que les morts qui ne reviennent pas.” + </p> + <p> + It is the notable convenience of us narrators to represent, by what is + called “soliloquy,” the thoughts, the interior of the personages we + describe. And this is almost the master-work of the tale-teller,—that + is, if the soliloquy be really in words, what self-commune is in the dim + and tangled recesses of the human heart! But to this privilege we are + rarely admitted in the case of Olivier Dalibard, for he rarely communed + with himself. A sort of mental calculation, it is true, eternally went on + within him, like the wheels of a destiny; but it had become a mechanical + operation, seldom disturbed by that consciousness of thought, with its + struggles of fear and doubt, conscience and crime, which gives its + appalling interest to the soliloquy of tragedy. Amidst the tremendous + secrecy of that profound intellect, as at the bottom of a sea, only + monstrous images of terror, things of prey, stirred in cold-blooded and + devouring life; but into these deeps Olivier himself did not dive. He did + not face his own soul; his outer life and his inner life seemed separate + individualities, just as, in some complicated State, the social machine + goes on through all its numberless cycles of vice and dread, whatever the + acts of the government, which is the representative of the State, and + stands for the State in the shallow judgment of history. + </p> + <p> + Before this time Olivier Dalibard’s manner to his son had greatly changed + from the indifference it betrayed in England,—it was kind and + affectionate, almost caressing; while, on the other hand, Gabriel, as if + in possession of some secret which gave him power over his father, took a + more careless and independent tone, often absented himself from the house + for days together, joined the revels of young profligates older than + himself, with whom he had formed acquaintance, indulged in spendthrift + expenses, and plunged prematurely into the stream of vicious pleasure that + oozed through the mud of Paris. + </p> + <p> + One morning Dalibard, returning from a visit to Madame Bellanger, found + Gabriel alone in the salon, contemplating his fair face and gay dress in + one of the mirrors, and smoothing down the hair, which he wore long and + sleek, as in the portraits of Raphael. Dalibard’s lip curled at the boy’s + coxcombry,—though such tastes he himself had fostered, according to + his ruling principles, that to govern, you must find a foible, or instil + it; but the sneer changed into a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Are you satisfied with yourself, joli garcon?” he said, with saturnine + playfulness. + </p> + <p> + “At least, sir, I hope that you will not be ashamed of me when you + formally legitimatize me as your son. The time has come, you know, to keep + your promise.” + </p> + <p> + “And it shall be kept, do not fear. But first I have an employment for + you,—a mission; your first embassy, Gabriel.” + </p> + <p> + “I listen, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I have to send to England a communication of the utmost importance—public + importance—to the secret agent of the French government. We are on + the eve of a descent on England. We are in correspondence with some in + London on whom we count for support. A man might be suspected and + searched,—mind, searched. You, a boy, with English name and speech, + will be my safest envoy. Bonaparte approves my selection. On your return, + he permits me to present you to him. He loves the rising generation. In a + few days you will be prepared to start.” + </p> + <p> + Despite the calm tone of the father, so had the son, from the instinct of + fear and self-preservation, studied every accent, every glance of Olivier,—so + had he constituted himself a spy upon the heart whose perfidy was ever + armed, that he detected at once in the proposal some scheme hostile to his + interests. He made, however, no opposition to the plan suggested; and + seemingly satisfied with his obedience, the father dismissed him. + </p> + <p> + As soon as he was in the streets, Gabriel went straight to the house of + Madame Bellanger. The hotel had been purchased in her name, and she + therefore retained it. Since her husband’s death he had avoided that + house, before so familiar to him; and now he grew pale and breathed hard + as he passed by the porter’s lodge up the lofty stairs. + </p> + <p> + He knew of his father’s recent and constant visits at the house; and + without conjecturing precisely what were Olivier’s designs, he connected + them, in the natural and acquired shrewdness he possessed, with the + wealthy widow. He resolved to watch, observe, and draw his own + conclusions. As he entered Madame Bellanger’s room rather abruptly, he + observed her push aside amongst her papers something she had been gazing + on,—something which sparkled to his eyes. He sat himself down close + to her with the caressing manner he usually adopted towards women; and in + the midst of the babbling talk with which ladies generally honour boys, he + suddenly, as if by accident, displaced the papers, and saw his father’s + miniature set in brilliants. The start of the widow, her blush, and her + exclamation strengthened the light that flashed upon his mind. “Oh, ho! I + see now,” he said laughing, “why my father is always praising black hair; + and—nay, nay—gentlemen may admire ladies in Paris, surely?” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh, my dear child, your father is an old friend of my poor husband, and + a near relation too! But, Gabriel, mon petit ange, you had better not say + at home that you have seen this picture; Madame Dalibard might be foolish + enough to be angry.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure not. I have kept a secret before now!” and again the boy’s + cheek grew pale, and he looked hurriedly round. + </p> + <p> + “And you are very fond of Madame Dalibard too; so you must not vex her.” + </p> + <p> + “Who says I’m fond of Madame Dalibard? A stepmother!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, your father, of course,—il est si bon, ce pauvre Dalibard; and + all men like cheerful faces. But then, poor lady,—an Englishwoman, + so strange here; very natural she should fret, and with bad health, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Bad health! Ah, I remember! She, also, does not seem likely to live + long!” + </p> + <p> + “So your poor father apprehends. Well, well; how uncertain life is! Who + would have thought dear Bellanger would have—” + </p> + <p> + Gabriel rose hastily, and interrupted the widow’s pathetic reflections. “I + only ran in to say Bon jour. I must leave you now.” + </p> + <p> + “Adieu, my dear boy,—not a word on the miniature! By the by, here’s + a shirt-pin for you,—tu es joli comme un amour.” + </p> + <p> + All was clear now to Gabriel; it was necessary to get rid of him, and + forever. Dalibard might dread his attachment to Lucretia,—he would + dread still more his closer intimacy with the widow of Bellanger, should + that widow wed again, and Dalibard, freed like her (by what means?), be + her choice! Into that abyss of wickedness, fathomless to the innocent, the + young villanous eye plunged, and surveyed the ground; a terror seized on + him,—a terror of life and death. Would Dalibard spare even his own + son, if that son had the power to injure? This mission, was it exile only,—only + a fall back to the old squalor of his uncle’s studio; only the laying + aside of a useless tool? Or was it a snare to the grave? Demon as Dalibard + was, doubtless the boy wronged him. But guilt construes guilt for the + worst. + </p> + <p> + Gabriel had formerly enjoyed the thought to match himself, should danger + come, with Dalibard; the hour had come, and he felt his impotence. Brave + his father, and refuse to leave France! From that, even his reckless + hardihood shrank, as from inevitable destruction. But to depart,—be + the poor victim and dupe; after having been let loose amongst the riot of + pleasure, to return to labour and privation,—from that option his + vanity and his senses vindictively revolted. And Lucretia, the only being + who seemed to have a human kindness to him! Through all the vicious + egotism of his nature, he had some grateful sentiments for her; and even + the egotism assisted that unwonted amiability, for he felt that, Lucretia + gone, he had no hold on his father’s house, that the home of her successor + never would be his. While thus brooding, he lifted his eyes, and saw + Dalibard pass in his carriage towards the Tuileries. The house, then, was + clear; he could see Lucretia alone. He formed his resolution at once, and + turned homewards. As he did so, he observed a man at the angle of the + street, whose eyes followed Dalibard’s carriage with an expression of + unmistakable hate and revenge; but scarcely had he marked the countenance, + before the man, looking hurriedly round, darted away, and was lost amongst + the crowd. + </p> + <p> + Now, that countenance was not quite unfamiliar to Gabriel. He had seen it + before, as he saw it now,—hastily, and, as it were, by fearful + snatches. Once he had marked, on returning home at twilight, a figure + lurking by the house; and something, in the quickness with which it turned + from his gaze, joined to his knowledge of Dalibard’s apprehensions, made + him mention the circumstance to his father when he entered. Dalibard bade + him hasten with a note, written hurriedly, to an agent of the police, whom + he kept lodged near at hand. The man was still on the threshold when the + boy went out on this errand, and he caught a glimpse of his face; but + before the police-agent reached the spot, the ill-omened apparition had + vanished. Gabriel now, as his eye rested full upon that threatening brow + and those burning eyes, was convinced that he saw before him the terrible + Pierre Guillot, whose very name blenched his father’s cheek. When the + figure retreated, he resolved at once to pursue. He hurried through the + crowd amidst which the man had disappeared, and looked eagerly into the + faces of those he jostled; sometimes at the distance he caught sight of a + figure which appeared to resemble the one which he pursued, but the + likeness faded on approach. The chase, however, vague and desultory as it + was, led him on till his way was lost amongst labyrinths of narrow and + unfamiliar streets. Heated and thirsty, he paused, at last, before a small + cafe, entered to ask for a draught of lemonade, and behold, chance had + favoured him! The man he sought was seated there before a bottle of wine, + and intently reading the newspaper. Gabriel sat himself down at the + adjoining table. In a few moments the man was joined by a newcomer; the + two conversed, but in whispers so low that Gabriel was unable to hear + their conversation, though he caught more than once the name of “George.” + Both the men were violently excited, and the expression of their + countenances was menacing and sinister. The first comer pointed often to + the newspaper, and read passages from it to his companion. This suggested + to Gabriel the demand for another journal. When the waiter brought it to + him, his eye rested upon a long paragraph, in which the name of George + Cadoudal frequently occurred. In fact, all the journals of the day were + filled with speculations on the conspiracy and trial of that fiery martyr + to an erring adaptation of a noble principle. Gabriel knew that his father + had had a principal share in the detection of the defeated enterprise; and + his previous persuasions were confirmed. + </p> + <p> + His sense of hearing grew sharper by continued effort, and at length he + heard the first comer say distinctly, “If I were but sure that I had + brought this fate upon George by introducing to him that accursed + Dalibard; if my oath did but justify me, I would—” The concluding + sentence was lost. A few moments after, the two men rose, and from the + familiar words that passed between them and the master of the cafe, who + approached, himself, to receive the reckoning, the shrewd boy perceived + that the place was no unaccustomed haunt. He crept nearer and nearer; and + as the landlord shook hands with his customer, he heard distinctly the + former address him by the name of “Guillot.” When the men withdrew, + Gabriel followed them at a distance (taking care first to impress on his + memory the name of the cafe, and the street in which it was placed) and, + as he thought, unobserved; he was mistaken. Suddenly, in one street more + solitary than the rest, the man whom he was mainly bent on tracking turned + round, advanced to Gabriel, who was on the other side of the street, and + laid his hand upon him so abruptly that the boy was fairly taken by + surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Who bade you follow us?” said he, with so dark and fell an expression of + countenance that even Gabriel’s courage failed him. “No evasion, no lies; + speak out, and at once;” and the grasp tightened on the boy’s throat. + </p> + <p> + Gabriel’s readiness of resource and presence of mind did not long forsake + him. + </p> + <p> + “Loose your hold, and I will tell you—you stifle me.” The man + slightly relaxed his grasp, and Gabriel said quickly “My mother perished + on the guillotine in the Reign of Terror; I am for the Bourbons. I thought + I overheard words which showed sympathy for poor George, the brave Chouan. + I followed you; for I thought I was following friends.” + </p> + <p> + The man smiled as he fixed his steady eye upon the unflinching child. “My + poor lad,” he said gently, “I believe you,—pardon me; but follow us + no more,—we are dangerous!” He waved his hand, and strode away and + rejoined his companion, and Gabriel reluctantly abandoned the pursuit and + went homeward. It was long before he reached his father’s house, for he + had strayed into a strange quarter of Paris, and had frequently to inquire + the way. At length he reached home, and ascended the stairs to a small + room in which Lucretia usually sat, and which was divided by a narrow + corridor from the sleeping-chamber of herself and Dalibard. His + stepmother, leaning her cheek upon her hand, was seated by the window, so + absorbed in some gloomy thoughts, which cast over her rigid face a shade, + intense and solemn as despair, that she did not perceive the approach of + the boy till he threw his arms round her neck, and then she started as in + alarm. + </p> + <p> + “You! only you,” she said, with a constrained smile; “see, my nerves are + not so strong as they were.” + </p> + <p> + “You are disturbed, belle-mere,—has he been vexing you?” + </p> + <p> + “He—Dalibard? No, indeed; we were only this morning discussing + matters of business.” + </p> + <p> + “Business,—that means money.” + </p> + <p> + “Truly,” said Lucretia, “money does make the staple of life’s business. In + spite of his new appointment, your father needs some sums in hand,—favours + are to be bought, opportunities for speculation occur, and—” + </p> + <p> + “And my father,” interrupted Gabriel, “wishes your consent to raise the + rest of your portion?” + </p> + <p> + Lucretia looked surprised, but answered quietly: “He had my consent long + since; but the trustees to the marriage-settlement—mere men of + business, my uncle’s bankers; for I had lost all claim on my kindred—refuse, + or at least interpose such difficulties as amount to refusal.” + </p> + <p> + “But that reply came some days since,” said Gabriel, musingly. + </p> + <p> + “How did you know,—did your father tell you?” + </p> + <p> + “Poor belle-mere!” said Gabriel, almost with pity; “can you live in this + house and not watch all that passes,—every stranger, every message, + every letter? But what, then, does he wish with you?” + </p> + <p> + “He has suggested my returning to England and seeing the trustees myself. + His interest can obtain my passport.” + </p> + <p> + “And you have refused?” + </p> + <p> + “I have not consented.” + </p> + <p> + “Consent!—hush!—your maid; Marie is not waiting without;” and + Gabriel rose and looked forth. “No, confound these doors! none close as + they ought in this house. Is it not a clause in your settlement that the + half of your fortune now invested goes to the survivor?” + </p> + <p> + “It is,” replied Lucretia, struck and thrilled at the question. “How, + again, did you know this?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw my father reading the copy. If you die first, then, he has all. If + he merely wanted the money, he would not send you away.” + </p> + <p> + There was a terrible pause. Gabriel resumed: “I trust you, it may be, with + my life; but I will speak out. My father goes much to Bellanger’s widow; + she is rich and weak. Come to England! Yes, come; for he is about to + dismiss me. He fears that I shall be in the way, to warn you, perhaps, or + to—to—In short, both of us are in his way. He gives you an + escape. Once in England, the war which is breaking out will prevent your + return. He will twist the laws of divorce to his favour; he will marry + again! What then? He spares you what remains of your fortune; he spares + your life. Remain here,—cross his schemes, and—No, no; come to + England,—safer anywhere than here!” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, great changes had passed over Lucretia’s countenance. At + first it was the flash of conviction, then the stunned shock of horror; + now she rose, rose to her full height, and there was a livid and deadly + light in her eyes,—the light of conscious courage and power and + revenge. “Fool,” she muttered, “with all his craft! Fool, fool! As if, in + the war of household perfidy, the woman did not always conquer! Man’s only + chance is to be mailed in honour.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Gabriel, overhearing her, “but you do not remember what it is. + There is nothing you can see and guard against. It is not like an enemy + face to face; it is death in the food, in the air, in the touch. You + stretch out your arms in the dark, you feel nothing, and you die! Oh, do + not fancy that I have not thought well (for I am almost a man now) if + there were no means to resist,—there are none! As well make head + against the plague,—it is in the atmosphere. Come to England, and + return. Live poorly, if you must, but live—but live!” + </p> + <p> + “Return to England poor and despised, and bound still to him, or a + disgraced and divorced wife,—disgraced by the low-born dependant on + my kinsman’s house,—and fawn perhaps upon my sister and her husband + for bread! Never! I am at my post, and I will not fly.” + </p> + <p> + “Brave, brave!” said the boy, clapping his hands, and sincerely moved by a + daring superior to his own; “I wish I could help you!” + </p> + <p> + Lucretia’s eye rested on him with the full gaze, so rare in its looks. She + drew him to her and kissed his brow. “Boy, through life, whatever our + guilt and its doom, we are bound to each other. I may yet live to have + wealth; if so, it is yours as a son’s. I may be iron to others,—never + to you. Enough of this; I must reflect!” She passed her hands over her + eyes a moment, and resumed: “You would help me in my self-defence; I think + you can. You have been more alert in your watch than I have. You must have + means I have not secured. Your father guards well all his papers.” + </p> + <p> + “I have keys to every desk. My foot passed the threshold of that room + under the roof before yours. But no; his powers can never be yours! He has + never confided to you half his secrets. He has antidotes for every—every—” + </p> + <p> + “Hist! what noise is that? Only the shower on the casements. No, no, + child, that is not my object. Cadoudal’s conspiracy! Your father has + letters from Fouche which show how he has betrayed others who are stronger + to avenge than a woman and a boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “I would have those letters. Give me the keys. But hold! Gabriel, Gabriel, + you may yet misjudge him. This woman—wife to the dead man—his + wife! Horror! Have you no proofs of what you imply?” + </p> + <p> + “Proofs!” echoed Gabriel, in a tone of wonder; “I can but see and + conjecture. You are warned, watch and decide for yourself. But again I + say, come to England; I shall go!” + </p> + <p> + Without reply, Lucretia took the keys from Gabriel’s half-reluctant hand, + and passed into her husband’s writing-room. When she had entered, she + locked the door. She passed at once to a huge secretary, of which the key + was small as a fairy’s work. She opened it with ease by one of the + counterfeits. No love-correspondence—the first object of her search, + for she was woman—met her eye. What need of letters, when interviews + were so facile? But she soon found a document that told all which + love-letters could tell,—it was an account of the moneys and + possessions of Madame Bellanger; and there were pencil notes on the + margin: “Vautran will give four hundred thousand francs for the lands in + Auvergne,—to be accepted. Consult on the power of sale granted to a + second husband. Query, if there is no chance of the heir-at-law disputing + the moneys invested in Madame B.‘s name,”—and such memoranda as a + man notes down in the schedule of properties about to be his own. In these + inscriptions there was a hideous mockery of all love; like the blue lights + of corruption, they showed the black vault of the heart. The pale reader + saw what her own attractions had been, and, fallen as she was, she smiled + superior in her bitterness of scorn. Arranged methodically with the + precision of business, she found the letters she next looked for; one + recognizing Dalibard’s services in the detection of the conspiracy, and + authorizing him to employ the police in the search of Pierre Guillot, + sufficed for her purpose. She withdrew, and secreted it. She was about to + lock up the secretary, when her eye fell on the title of a small + manuscript volume in a corner; and as shet read, she pressed one hand + convulsively to her heart, while twice with the other she grasped the + volume, and twice withdrew the grasp. The title ran harmlessly thus: + “Philosophical and Chemical Inquiries into the Nature and Materials of the + Poisons in Use between the Fourteenth and Sixteenth Centuries.” Hurriedly, + and at last as if doubtful of herself, she left the manuscript, closed the + secretary, and returned to Gabriel. + </p> + <p> + “You have got the paper you seek?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then whatever you do, you must be quick; he will soon discover the loss.” + </p> + <p> + “I will be quick.” + </p> + <p> + “It is I whom he will suspect,” said Gabriel, in alarm, as that thought + struck him. “No, for my sake do not take the letter till I am gone. Do not + fear in the mean time; he will do nothing against you while I am here.” + </p> + <p> + “I will replace the letter till then,” said Lucretia, meekly. “You have a + right to my first thoughts.” So she went back, and Gabriel (suspicious + perhaps) crept after her. + </p> + <p> + As she replaced the document, he pointed to the manuscript which had + tempted her. “I have seen that before; how I longed for it! If anything + ever happens to him, I claim that as my legacy.” + </p> + <p> + Their hands met as he said this, and grasped each other convulsively; + Lucretia relocked the secretary, and when she gained the next room, she + tottered to a chair. Her strong nerves gave way for the moment; she + uttered no cry, but by the whiteness of her face, Gabriel saw that she was + senseless,—senseless for a minute or so; scarcely more. But the + return to consciousness with a clenched hand, and a brow of defiance, and + a stare of mingled desperation and dismay, seemed rather the awaking from + some frightful dream of violence and struggle than the slow, languid + recovery from the faintness of a swoon. Yes, henceforth, to sleep was to + couch by a serpent,—to breathe was to listen for the avalanche! Thou + who didst trifle so wantonly with Treason, now gravely front the grim + comrade thou hast won; thou scheming desecrator of the Household Gods, now + learn, to the last page of dark knowledge, what the hearth is without + them! + </p> + <p> + Gabriel was strangely moved as he beheld that proud and solitary despair. + An instinct of nature had hitherto checked him from actively aiding + Lucretia in that struggle with his father which could but end in the + destruction of one or the other. He had contented himself with + forewarnings, with hints, with indirect suggestions; but now all his + sympathy was so strongly roused on her behalf that the last faint scruple + of filial conscience vanished into the abyss of blood over which stood + that lonely Titaness. He drew near, and clasping her hand, said, in a + quick and broken voice,— + </p> + <p> + “Listen! You know where to find proof of my fa—that is, of + Dalibard’s treason to the conspirators, you know the name of the man he + dreads as an avenger, and you know that he waits but the proof to strike; + but you do not know where to find that man, if his revenge is wanting for + yourself. The police have not hunted him out: how can you? Accident has + made me acquainted with one of his haunts. Give me a single promise, and I + will put you at least upon that clew,—weak, perhaps, but as yet the + sole one to be followed. Promise me that, only in defence of your own + life, not for mere jealousy, you will avail yourself of the knowledge, and + you shall know all I do!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think,” said Lucretia, in a calm, cold voice, “that it is for + jealousy, which is love, that I would murder all hope, all peace? For we + have here”—and she smote her breast—“here, if not elsewhere, a + heaven and a hell! Son, I will not harm your father, except in + self-defence. But tell me nothing that may make the son a party in the + father’s doom.” + </p> + <p> + “The father slew the mother,” muttered Gabriel, between his clenched + teeth; “and to me, you have wellnigh supplied her place. Strike, if need + be, in her name! If you are driven to want the arm of Pierre Guillot, seek + news of him at the Cafe Dufour, Rue S——, Boulevard du Temple. + Be calm now; I hear your husband’s step.” + </p> + <p> + A few days more, and Gabriel is gone! Wife and husband are alone with each + other. Lucretia has refused to depart. Then that mute coma of horror, that + suspense of two foes in the conflict of death; for the subtle, prying eye + of Olivier Dalibard sees that he himself is suspected,—further he + shuns from sifting! Glance fastens on glance, and then hurries smilingly + away. From the cup grins a skeleton, at the board warns a spectre. But how + kind still the words, and how gentle the tone; and they lie down side by + side in the marriage-bed,—brain plotting against brain, heart + loathing heart. It is a duel of life and death between those sworn through + life and beyond death at the altar. But it is carried on with all the + forms and courtesies of duel in the age of chivalry. No conjugal + wrangling, no slip of the tongue; the oil is on the surface of the wave,—the + monsters in the hell of the abyss war invisibly below. At length, a dull + torpor creeps over the woman; she feels the taint in her veins,—the + slow victory is begun. What mattered all her vigilance and caution? Vainly + glide from the fangs of the serpent,—his very breath suffices to + destroy! Pure seems the draught and wholesome the viand,—that master + of the science of murder needs not the means of the bungler! Then, keen + and strong from the creeping lethargy started the fierce instinct of self + and the ruthless impulse of revenge. Not too late yet to escape; for those + subtle banes, that are to defy all detection, work but slowly to their + end. + </p> + <p> + One evening a woman, closely mantled, stood at watch by the angle of a + wall. The light came dim and muffled from the window of a cafe hard at + hand; the reflection slept amidst the shadows on the dark pavement, and + save a solitary lamp swung at distance in the vista over the centre of the + narrow street, no ray broke the gloom. The night was clouded and starless, + the wind moaned in gusts, and the rain fell heavily; but the gloom and the + loneliness did not appall the eye, and the wind did not chill the heart, + and the rain fell unheeded on the head of the woman at her post. At times + she paused in her slow, sentry-like pace to and fro, to look through the + window of the cafe, and her gaze fell always on one figure seated apart + from the rest. At length her pulse beat more quickly, and the patient lips + smiled sternly. The figure had risen to depart. A man came out and walked + quickly up the street; the woman approached, and when the man was under + the single lamp swung aloft, he felt his arm touched: the woman was at his + side, and looking steadily into his face— + </p> + <p> + “You are Pierre Guillot, the Breton, the friend of George Cadoudal. Will + you be his avenger?” + </p> + <p> + The Chouan’s first impulse had been to place his hand in his vest, and + something shone bright in the lamp-light, clasped in those iron fingers. + The voice and the manner reassured him, and he answered readily,— + </p> + <p> + “I am he whom you seek, and I only live to avenge.” + </p> + <p> + “Read, then, and act,” answered the woman, as she placed a paper in his + hands. + </p> + <p> + At Laughton the babe is on the breast of the fair mother, and the father + sits beside the bed; and mother and father dispute almost angrily whether + mother or father those soft, rounded features of slumbering infancy + resemble most. At the red house, near the market-town, there is a + hospitable bustle. William is home earlier than usual. Within the last + hour, Susan has been thrice into every room. Husband and wife are now + watching at the window. The good Fieldens, with a coach full of children, + are expected, every moment, on a week’s visit at least. + </p> + <p> + In the cafe in the Boulevard du Temple sit Pierre Guillot, the Chouan, and + another of the old band of brigands whom George Cadoudal had mustered in + Paris. There is an expression of content on Guillot’s countenance,—it + seems more open than usual, and there is a complacent smile on his lips. + He is whispering low to his friend in the intervals of eating,—an + employment pursued with the hearty gusto of a hungry man. But his friend + does not seem to sympathize with the cheerful feelings of his comrade; he + is pale, and there is terror on his face; and you may see that the journal + in his hand trembles like a leaf. + </p> + <p> + In the gardens of the Tuileries some score or so of gossips group + together. + </p> + <p> + “And no news of the murderer?” asked one. + </p> + <p> + “No; but the man who had been friend to Robespierre must have made secret + enemies enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Ce pauvre Dalibard! He was not mixed up with the Terrorists, + nevertheless.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but the more deadly for that, perhaps; a sly man was Olivier + Dalibard!” + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter?” said an employee, lounging up to the group. “Are you + talking of Olivier Dalibard? It is but the other day he had Marsan’s + appointment. He is now to have Pleyel’s. I heard it two days ago; a + capital thing! Peste! il ira loin. We shall have him a senator soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak for yourself,” quoth a ci-devant abbe, with a laugh; “I should be + sorry to see him again soon, wherever he be.” + </p> + <p> + “Plait-il? I don’t understand you!” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you know that Olivier Dalibard is murdered, found stabbed,—in + his own house, too!” + </p> + <p> + “Ciel! Pray tell me all you know. His place, then, is vacant!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it seems that Dalibard, who had been brought up to medicine, was + still fond of chemical experiments. He hired a room at the top of the + house for such scientific amusements. He was accustomed to spend part of + his nights there. They found him at morning bathed in his blood, with + three ghastly wounds in his side, and his fingers cut to the bone. He had + struggled hard with the knife that butchered him.” + </p> + <p> + “In his own house!” said a lawyer. “Some servant or spendthrift heir.” + </p> + <p> + “He has no heir but young Bellanger, who will be riche a millions, and is + now but a schoolboy at Lyons. No; it seems that the window was left open, + and that it communicates with the rooftops. There the murderer had + entered, and by that way escaped; for they found the leads of the gutter + dabbled with blood. The next house was uninhabited,—easy enough to + get in there, and lie perdu till night.” + </p> + <p> + “Hum!” said the lawyer. “But the assassin could only have learned + Dalibard’s habits from some one in the house. Was the deceased married?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,—to an Englishwoman.” + </p> + <p> + “She had lovers, perhaps?” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh, lovers! The happiest couple ever known; you should have seen them + together! I dined there last week.” + </p> + <p> + “It is strange,” said the lawyer. + </p> + <p> + “And he was getting on so well,” muttered a hungry-looking man. + </p> + <p> + “And his place is vacant!” repeated the employee, as he quitted the crowd + abstractedly. + </p> + <p> + In the house of Olivier Dalibard sits Lucretia alone, and in her own usual + morning-room. The officer appointed to such tasks by the French law has + performed his visit, and made his notes, and expressed condolence with the + widow, and promised justice and retribution, and placed his seal on the + locks till the representatives of the heir-at-law shall arrive; and the + heir-at-law is the very boy who had succeeded so unexpectedly to the + wealth of Jean Bellanger the contractor! But Lucretia has obtained + beforehand all she wishes to save from the rest. An open box is on the + floor, into which her hand drops noiselessly a volume in manuscript. On + the forefinger of that hand is a ring, larger and more massive than those + usually worn by women,—by Lucretia never worn before. Why should + that ring have been selected with such care from the dead man’s hoards? + Why so precious the dull opal in that cumbrous setting? From the hand the + volume drops without sound into the box, as those whom the secrets of the + volume instruct you to destroy may drop without noise into the grave. The + trace of some illness, recent and deep, nor conquered yet, has ploughed + lines in that young countenance, and dimmed the light of those searching + eyes. Yet courage! the poison is arrested, the poisoner is no more. Minds + like thine, stern woman, are cased in coffers of steel, and the rust as + yet has gnawed no deeper than the surface. So over that face, stamped with + bodily suffering, plays a calm smile of triumph. The schemer has baffled + the schemer! Turn now to the right, pass by that narrow corridor: you are + in the marriage-chamber; the windows are closed; tall tapers burn at the + foot of the bed. Now go back to that narrow corridor. Disregarded, thrown + aside, are a cloth and a besom: the cloth is wet still; but here and there + the red stains are dry, and clotted as with bloody glue; and the hairs of + the besom start up, torn and ragged, as if the bristles had a sense of + some horror, as if things inanimate still partook of men’s dread at men’s + deeds. If you passed through the corridor and saw in the shadow of the + wall that homeliest of instruments cast away and forgotten, you would + smile at the slatternly housework. But if you knew that a corpse had been + borne down those stairs to the left,—borne along those floors to + that marriage-bed,—with the blood oozing and gushing and plashing + below as the bearers passed with their burden, then straight that dead + thing would take the awe of the dead being; it told its own tale of + violence and murder; it had dabbled in the gore of the violated clay; it + had become an evidence of the crime. No wonder that its hairs bristled up, + sharp and ragged, in the shadow of the wall. + </p> + <p> + The first part of the tragedy ends; let fall the curtain. When next it + rises, years will have passed away, graves uncounted will have wrought + fresh hollows in our merry sepulchre,—sweet earth! Take a sand from + the shore, take a drop from the ocean,—less than sand-grain and drop + in man’s planet one Death and one Crime! On the map, trace all oceans, and + search out every shore,—more than seas, more than lands, in God’s + balance shall weigh one Death and one Crime! + </p> + <p> + <a name="Blink2H_PART2" id="Blink2H_PART2"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART THE SECOND. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="Blink2H_PROL" id="Blink2H_PROL"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PROLOGUE TO PART THE SECOND. + </h2> + <p> + The century has advanced. The rush of the deluge has ebbed back; the old + landmarks have reappeared; the dynasties Napoleon willed into life have + crumbled to the dust; the plough has passed over Waterloo; autumn after + autumn the harvests have glittered on that grave of an empire. Through the + immense ocean of universal change we look back on the single track which + our frail boat has cut through the waste. As a star shines impartially + over the measureless expanse, though it seems to gild but one broken line + into each eye, so, as our memory gazes on the past, the light spreads not + over all the breadth of the waste where nations have battled and argosies + gone down,—it falls narrow and confined along the single course we + have taken; we lean over the small raft on which we float, and see the + sparkles but reflected from the waves that it divides. + </p> + <p> + On the terrace at Laughton but one step paces slowly. The bride clings not + now to the bridegroom’s arm. Though pale and worn, it is still the same + gentle face; but the blush of woman’s love has gone from it evermore. + </p> + <p> + Charles Vernon (to call him still by the name in which he is best known to + us) sleeps in the vault of the St. Johns. He had lived longer than he + himself had expected, than his physician had hoped,—lived, cheerful + and happy, amidst quiet pursuits and innocent excitements. Three sons had + blessed his hearth, to mourn over his grave. But the two elder were + delicate and sickly. They did not long survive him, and died within a few + months of each other. The third seemed formed of a different mould and + constitution from his brethren. To him descended the ancient heritage of + Laughton, and he promised to enjoy it long. + </p> + <p> + It is Vernon’s widow who walks alone in the stately terrace; sad still, + for she loved well the choice of her youth, and she misses yet the + children in the grave. From the date of Vernon’s death, she wore mourning + without and within; and the sorrows that came later broke more the bruised + reed,—sad still, but resigned. One son survives, and earth yet has + the troubled hopes and the holy fears of affection. Though that son be + afar, in sport or in earnest, in pleasure or in toil, working out his + destiny as man, still that step is less solitary than it seems. When does + the son’s image not walk beside the mother? Though she lives in seclusion, + though the gay world tempts no more, the gay world is yet linked to her + thoughts. From the distance she hears its murmurs in music. Her fancy + still mingles with the crowd, and follows on, to her eye, outshining all + the rest. Never vain in herself, she is vain now of another; and the small + triumphs of the young and well-born seem trophies of renown to the eyes so + tenderly deceived. + </p> + <p> + In the old-fashioned market-town still the business goes on, still the + doors of the bank open and close every moment on the great day of the + week; but the names over the threshold are partially changed. The junior + partner is busy no more at the desk; not wholly forgotten, if his name + still is spoken, it is not with thankfulness and praise. A something rests + on the name,—that something which dims and attaints; not proven, not + certain, but suspected and dubious. The head shakes, the voice whispers; + and the attorney now lives in the solid red house at the verge of the + town. + </p> + <p> + In the vicarage, Time, the old scythe-bearer, has not paused from his + work. Still employed on Greek texts, little changed, save that his hair is + gray and that some lines in his kindly face tell of sorrows as of years, + the vicar sits in his parlour; but the children no longer, blithe-voiced + and rose-cheeked, dart through the rustling espaliers. Those children, + grave men or staid matrons (save one whom Death chose, and therefore now + of all best beloved!) are at their posts in the world. The young ones are + flown from the nest, and, with anxious wings, here and there, search food + in their turn for their young. But the blithe voice and rose-cheek of the + child make not that loss which the hearth misses the most. From childhood + to manhood, and from manhood to departure, the natural changes are gradual + and prepared. The absence most missed is that household life which + presided, which kept things in order, and must be coaxed if a chair were + displaced. That providence in trifles, that clasp of small links, that + dear, bustling agency,—now pleased, now complaining,—dear + alike in each change of its humour; that active life which has no self of + its own; like the mind of a poet, though its prose be the humblest, + transferring self into others, with its right to be cross, and its charter + to scold; for the motive is clear,—it takes what it loves too + anxiously to heart. The door of the parlour is open, the garden-path still + passes before the threshold; but no step now has full right to halt at the + door and interrupt the grave thought on Greek texts; no small talk on + details and wise sayings chimes in with the wrath of “Medea.” The Prudent + Genius is gone from the household; and perhaps as the good scholar now + wearily pauses, and looks out on the silent garden, he would have given + with joy all that Athens produced, from Aeschylus to Plato, to hear again + from the old familiar lips the lament on torn jackets, or the statistical + economy of eggs. + </p> + <p> + But see, though the wife is no more, though the children have departed, + the vicar’s home is not utterly desolate. See, along the same walk on + which William soothed Susan’s fears and won her consent,—see, what + fairy advances? Is it Susan returned to youth? How like! Yet look again, + and how unlike! The same, the pure, candid regard; the same, the clear, + limpid blue of the eye; the same, that fair hue of the hair,—light, + but not auburn; more subdued, more harmonious than that equivocal colour + which too nearly approaches to red. But how much more blooming and joyous + than Susan’s is that exquisite face in which all Hebe smiles forth; how + much airier the tread, light with health; how much rounder, if slighter + still, the wave of that undulating form! She smiles, her lips move, she is + conversing with herself; she cannot be all silent, even when alone, for + the sunny gladness of her nature must have vent like a bird’s. But do not + fancy that that gladness speaks the levity which comes from the absence of + thought; it is rather from the depth of thought that it springs, as from + the depth of a sea comes its music. See, while she pauses and listens, + with her finger half-raised to her lip, as amidst that careless jubilee of + birds she hears a note more grave and sustained,—the nightingale + singing by day (as sometimes, though rarely, he is heard,—perhaps + because he misses his mate; perhaps because he sees from his bower the + creeping form of some foe to his race),—see, as she listens now to + that plaintive, low-chanted warble, how quickly the smile is sobered, how + the shade, soft and pensive, steals over the brow. It is but the mystic + sympathy with Nature that bestows the smile or the shade. In that heart + lightly moved beats the fine sense of the poet. It is the exquisite + sensibility of the nerves that sends its blithe play to those spirits, and + from the clearness of the atmosphere comes, warm and ethereal, the ray of + that light. + </p> + <p> + And does the roof of the pastor give shelter to Helen Mainwaring’s youth? + Has Death taken from her the natural protectors? Those forms which we saw + so full of youth and youth’s heart in that very spot, has the grave closed + on them yet? Yet! How few attain to the age of the Psalmist! Twenty-seven + years have passed since that date: how often, in those years, have the + dark doors opened for the young as for the old! William Mainwaring died + first, careworn and shamebowed; the blot on his name had cankered into his + heart. Susan’s life, always precarious, had struggled on, while he lived, + by the strong power of affection and will; she would not die, for who then + could console him? But at his death the power gave way. She lingered, but + lingered dyingly, for three years; and then, for the first time since + William’s death, she smiled: that smile remained on the lips of the + corpse. They had had many trials, that young couple whom we left so + prosperous and happy. Not till many years after their marriage had one + sweet consoler been born to them. In the season of poverty and shame and + grief it came; and there was no pride on Mainwaring’s brow when they + placed his first-born in his arms. By her will, the widow consigned Helen + to the joint guardianship of Mr. Fielden and her sister; but the latter + was abroad, her address unknown, so the vicar for two years had had sole + charge of the orphan. She was not unprovided for. The sum that Susan + brought to her husband had been long since gone, it is true,—lost in + the calamity which had wrecked William Mainwaring’s name and blighted his + prospects; but Helen’s grandfather, the landagent, had died some time + subsequent to that event, and, indeed, just before William’s death. He had + never forgiven his son the stain on his name,—never assisted, never + even seen him since that fatal day; but he left to Helen a sum of about + 8,000 pounds; for she, at least, was innocent. In Mr. Fielden’s eyes, + Helen was therefore an heiress. And who amongst his small range of + acquaintance was good enough for her?—not only so richly portioned, + but so lovely,—accomplished, too; for her parents had of late years + lived chiefly in France, and languages there are easily learned, and + masters cheap. Mr. Fielden knew but one, whom Providence had also + consigned to his charge,—the supposed son of his old pupil Ardworth; + but though a tender affection existed between the two young persons, it + seemed too like that of brother and sister to afford much ground for Mr. + Fielden’s anxiety or hope. + </p> + <p> + From his window the vicar observed the still attitude of the young orphan + for a few moments; then he pushed aside his books, rose, and approached + her. At the sound of his tread she woke from her revery and bounded + lightly towards him. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you would not see me before!” she said, in a voice in which there was + the slightest possible foreign accent, which betrayed the country in which + her childhood had been passed; “I peeped in twice at the window. I wanted + you so much to walk to the village. But you will come now, will you not?” + added the girl, coaxingly, as she looked up at him under the shade of her + straw hat. + </p> + <p> + “And what do you want in the village, my pretty Helen?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you know it is fair day, and you promised Bessie that you would buy + her a fairing,—to say nothing of me.” + </p> + <p> + “Very true, and I ought to look in; it will help to keep the poor people + from drinking. A clergyman should mix with his parishioners in their + holidays. We must not associate our office only with grief and sickness + and preaching. We will go. And what fairing are you to have?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, something very brilliant, I promise you! I have formed grand notions + of a fair. I am sure it must be like the bazaars we read of last night in + that charming ‘Tour in the East.’” + </p> + <p> + The vicar smiled, half benignly, half anxiously. “My dear child, it is so + like you to suppose a village fair must be an Eastern bazaar. If you + always thus judge of things by your fancy, how this sober world will + deceive you, poor Helen!” + </p> + <p> + “It is not my fault; ne me grondez pas, mechant,” answered Helen, hanging + her head. “But come, sir, allow, at least, that if I let my romance, as + you call it, run away with me now and then, I can still content myself + with the reality. What, you shake your head still? Don’t you remember the + sparrow?” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! ha! yes,—the sparrow that the pedlar sold you for a goldfinch; + and you were so proud of your purchase, and wondered so much why you could + not coax the goldfinch to sing, till at last the paint wore away, and it + was only a poor little sparrow!” + </p> + <p> + “Go on! Confess: did I fret then? Was I not as pleased with my dear + sparrow as I should have been with the prettiest goldfinch that ever sang? + Does not the sparrow follow me about and nestle on my shoulder, dear + little thing? And I was right after all; for if I had not fancied it a + goldfinch, I should not have bought it, perhaps. But now I would not + change it for a goldfinch,—no, not even for that nightingale I heard + just now. So let me still fancy the poor fair a bazaar; it is a double + pleasure, first to fancy the bazaar, and then to be surprised at the + fair.” + </p> + <p> + “You argue well,” said the vicar, as they now entered the village; “I + really think, in spite of all your turn for poetry and Goldsmith and + Cowper, that you would take as kindly to mathematics as your cousin John + Ardworth, poor lad! + </p> + <p> + “Not if mathematics have made him so grave, and so churlish, I was going + to say; but that word does him wrong, dear cousin, so kind and so rough!” + </p> + <p> + “It is not mathematics that are to blame if he is grave and absorbed,” + said the vicar, with a sigh; “it is the two cares that gnaw most,—poverty + and ambition.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, do not sigh; it must be such a pleasure to feel, as he does, that + one must triumph at last!” + </p> + <p> + “Umph! John must have nearly reached London by this time,” said Mr. + Fielden, “for he is a stout walker, and this is the third day since he + left us. Well, now that he is about fairly to be called to the Bar, I hope + that his fever will cool, and he will settle calmly to work. I have felt + great pain for him during this last visit.” + </p> + <p> + “Pain! But why?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, do you remember what I read to you both from Sir William Temple + the night before John left us?” + </p> + <p> + Helen put her hand to her brow, and with a readiness which showed a memory + equally quick and retentive, replied, “Yes; was it not to this effect? I + am not sure of the exact words: ‘To have something we have not, and be + something we are not, is the root of all evil.’” + </p> + <p> + “Well remembered, my darling!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but,” said Helen, archly, “I remember too what my cousin replied: ‘If + Sir William Temple had practised his theory, he would not have been + ambassador at the Hague, or—” + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw! the boy’s always ready enough with his answers,” interrupted Mr. + Fielden, rather petulantly. “There’s the fair, my dear,—more in your + way, I see, than Sir William Temple’s philosophy.” + </p> + <p> + And Helen was right; the fair was no Eastern bazaar, but how delighted + that young, impressionable mind was, notwithstanding,—delighted with + the swings and the roundabouts, the shows, the booths, even down to the + gilt gingerbread kings and queens! All minds genuinely poetical are + peculiarly susceptible to movement,—that is, to the excitement of + numbers. If the movement is sincerely joyous, as in the mirth of a village + holiday, such a nature shares insensibly in the joy; but if the movement + is a false and spurious gayety, as in a state ball, where the impassive + face and languid step are out of harmony with the evident object of the + scene, then the nature we speak of feels chilled and dejected. Hence it + really is that the more delicate and ideal order of minds soon grow + inexpressibly weary of the hack routine of what are called fashionable + pleasures. Hence the same person most alive to a dance on the green, would + be without enjoyment at Almack’s. It was not because one scene is a + village green, and the other a room in King Street, nor is it because the + actors in the one are of the humble, in the others of the noble class; but + simply because the enjoyment in the first is visible and hearty, because + in the other it is a listless and melancholy pretence. Helen fancied it + was the swings and the booths that gave her that innocent exhilaration,—it + was not so; it was the unconscious sympathy with the crowd around her. + When the poetical nature quits its own dreams for the actual world, it + enters and transfuses itself into the hearts and humours of others. The + two wings of that spirit which we call Genius are revery and sympathy. But + poor little Helen had no idea that she had genius. Whether chasing the + butterfly or talking fond fancies to her birds, or whether with earnest, + musing eyes watching the stars come forth, and the dark pine-trees gleam + into silver; whether with airy daydreams and credulous wonder poring over + the magic tales of Mirglip or Aladdin, or whether spellbound to awe by the + solemn woes of Lear, or following the blind great bard into “the heaven of + heavens, an earthly guest, to draw empyreal air,”—she obeyed but the + honest and varying impulse in each change of her pliant mood, and would + have ascribed with genuine humility to the vagaries of childhood that + prompt gathering of pleasure, that quick-shifting sport of the fancy by + which Nature binds to itself, in chains undulating as melody, the lively + senses of genius. + </p> + <p> + While Helen, leaning on the vicar’s arm, thus surrendered herself to the + innocent excitement of the moment, the vicar himself smiled and nodded to + his parishioners, or paused to exchange a friendly word or two with the + youngest or the eldest loiterers (those two extremes of mortality which + the Church so tenderly unites) whom the scene drew to its tempting vortex, + when a rough-haired lad, with a leather bag strapped across his waist, + turned from one of the gingerbread booths, and touching his hat, said, + “Please you, sir, I was a coming to your house with a letter.” + </p> + <p> + The vicar’s correspondence was confined and rare, despite his distant + children, for letters but a few years ago were costly luxuries to persons + of narrow income, and therefore the juvenile letter-carrier who plied + between the post-town and the village failed to excite in his breast that + indignation for being an hour or more behind his time which would have + animated one to whom the post brings the usual event of the day. He took + the letter from the boy’s hand, and paid for it with a thrifty sigh as he + glanced at a handwriting unfamiliar to him,—perhaps from some + clergyman poorer than himself. However, that was not the place to read + letters, so he put the epistle into his pocket, until Helen, who watched + his countenance to see when he grew tired of the scene, kindly proposed to + return home. As they gained a stile half-way, Mr. Fielden remembered his + letter, took it forth, and put on his spectacles. Helen stooped over the + bank to gather violets; the vicar seated himself on the stile. As he again + looked at the address, the handwriting, before unfamiliar, seemed to grow + indistinctly on his recollection. That bold, firm hand—thin and fine + as woman’s, but large and regular as man’s—was too peculiar to be + forgotten. He uttered a brief exclamation of surprise and recognition, and + hastily broke the seal. The contents ran thus:— + </p> + <p> + DEAR SIR,—So many years have passed since any communication has + taken place between us that the name of Lucretia Dalibard will seem more + strange to you than that of Lucretia Clavering. I have recently returned + to England after long residence abroad. I perceive by my deceased sister’s + will that she has confided her only daughter to my guardianship, + conjointly with yourself. I am anxious to participate in that tender + charge. I am alone in the world,—an habitual sufferer; afflicted + with a partial paralysis that deprives me of the use of my limbs. In such + circumstances, it is the more natural that I should turn to the only + relative left me. My journey to England has so exhausted my strength, and + all movement is so painful, that I must request you to excuse me for not + coming in person for my niece. Your benevolence, however, will, I am sure, + prompt you to afford me the comfort of her society, and as soon as you + can, contrive some suitable arrangement for her journey. Begging you to + express to Helen, in my name, the assurance of such a welcome as is due + from me to my sister’s child, and waiting with great anxiety your reply, I + am, dear Sir, Your very faithful servant, LUCRETIA DALIBARD. + </p> + <p> + P. S. I can scarcely venture to ask you to bring Helen yourself to town, + but I should be glad if other inducements to take the journey afforded me + the pleasure of seeing you once again. I am anxious, in addition to such + details of my late sister as you may be enabled to give me, to learn + something of the history of her connection with Mr. Ardworth, in whom I + felt much interested years ago, and who, I am recently informed, left an + infant, his supposed son, under your care. So long absent from England, + how much have I to learn, and how little the mere gravestones tell us of + the dead! + </p> + <p> + While the vicar is absorbed in this letter, equally unwelcome and + unexpected; while, unconscious as the daughter of Ceres, gathering flowers + when the Hell King drew near, of the change that awaited her and the grim + presence that approached on her fate, Helen bends still over the bank + odorous with shrinking violets,—we turn where the new generation + equally invites our gaze, and make our first acquaintance with two persons + connected with the progress of our tale. + </p> + <p> + The britzska stopped. The servant, who had been gradually accumulating + present dust and future rheumatisms on the “bad eminence” of a + rumble-tumble, exposed to the nipping airs of an English sky, leaped to + the ground and opened the carriage-door. + </p> + <p> + “This is the best place for the view, sir,—a little to the right.” + </p> + <p> + Percival St. John threw aside his book (a volume of Voyages), whistled to + a spaniel dozing by his side, and descended lightly. Light was the step of + the young man, and merry was the bark of the dog, as it chased from the + road the startled sparrow, rising high into the clear air,—favourites + of Nature both, man and dog. You had but to glance at Percival St. John to + know at once that he was of the race that toils not; the assured step + spoke confidence in the world’s fair smile. No care for the morrow dimmed + the bold eye and the radiant bloom. + </p> + <p> + About the middle height,—his slight figure, yet undeveloped, seemed + not to have attained to its full growth,—the darkening down only + just shaded a cheek somewhat sunburned, though naturally fair, round which + locks black as jet played sportively in the fresh air; about him + altogether there was the inexpressible charm of happy youth. He scarcely + looked sixteen, though above four years older; but for his firm though + careless step, and the open fearlessness of his frank eye, you might have + almost taken him for a girl in men’s clothes,—not from effeminacy of + feature, but from the sparkling bloom of his youth, and from his + unmistakable newness to the cares and sins of man. A more delightful + vision of ingenuous boyhood opening into life under happy auspices never + inspired with pleased yet melancholy interest the eye of half-envious, + half-pitying age. + </p> + <p> + “And that,” mused Percival St. John,—“that is London! Oh for the + Diable Boiteux to unroof me those distant houses, and show me the + pleasures that lurk within! Ah, what long letters I shall have to write + home! How the dear old captain will laugh over them, and how my dear good + mother will put down her work and sigh! Home!—um, I miss it already. + How strange and grim, after all, the huge city seems!” + </p> + <p> + His glove fell to the ground, and his spaniel mumbled it into shreds. The + young man laughed, and throwing himself on the grass, played gayly with + the dog. + </p> + <p> + “Fie, Beau, sir, fie! gloves are indigestible. Restrain your appetite, and + we’ll lunch together at the Clarendon.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment there arrived at the same patch of greensward a pedestrian + some years older than Percival St. John,—a tall, muscular, + raw-boned, dust-covered, travel-stained pedestrian; one of your + pedestrians in good earnest,—no amateur in neat gambroon + manufactured by Inkson, who leaves his carriage behind him and walks on + with his fishing-rod by choice, but a sturdy wanderer, with thick shoes + and strapless trousers, a threadbare coat and a knapsack at his back. Yet, + withal, the young man had the air of a gentleman,—not gentleman as + the word is understood in St. James’s, the gentleman of the noble and idle + class, but the gentleman as the title is accorded, by courtesy, to all to + whom both education and the habit of mixing with educated persons gives a + claim to the distinction and imparts an air of refinement. The new-comer + was strongly built, at once lean and large,—far more strongly built + than Percival St. John, but without his look of cheerful and comely + health. His complexion had not the florid hues that should have + accompanied that strength of body; it was pale, though not sickly; the + expression grave, the lines deep, the face strongly marked. By his side + trotted painfully a wiry, yellowish, footsore Scotch terrier. Beau sprang + from his master’s caress, cocked his handsome head on one side, and + suspended in silent halt his right fore-paw. Percival cast over his left + shoulder a careless glance at the intruder. The last heeded neither Beau + nor Percival. He slipped his knapsack to the ground, and the Scotch + terrier sank upon it, and curled himself up into a ball. The wayfarer + folded his arms tightly upon his breast, heaved a short, unquiet sigh, and + cast over the giant city, from under deep-pent, lowering brows, a look so + earnest, so searching, so full of inexpressible, dogged, determined power, + that Percival, roused out of his gay indifference, rose and regarded him + with curious interest. + </p> + <p> + In the mean while Beau had very leisurely approached the bilious-looking + terrier; and after walking three times round him, with a stare and a small + sniff of superb impertinence, halted with great composure, and lifting his + hind leg—O Beau, Beau, Beau! your historian blushes for your + breeding, and, like Sterne’s recording angel, drops a tear upon the stain + which washes it from the register—but not, alas, from the back of + the bilious terrier! The space around was wide, Beau; you had all the + world to choose: why select so specially for insult the single spot on + which reposed the wornout and unoffending? O dainty Beau! O dainty world! + Own the truth, both of ye. There is something irresistibly provocative of + insult in the back of a shabby-looking dog! The poor terrier, used to + affronts, raised its heavy eyelids, and shot the gleam of just indignation + from its dark eyes. But it neither stirred nor growled, and Beau, + extremely pleased with his achievement, wagged his tail in triumph and + returned to his master,—perhaps, in parliamentary phrase, to “report + proceedings and ask leave to sit again.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” soliloquized Percival St. John, “what that poor fellow is + thinking of? Perhaps he is poor; indeed, no doubt of it, now I look again. + And I so rich! I should like to—Hem! let’s see what he’s made of.” + </p> + <p> + Herewith Percival approached, and with all a boy’s half-bashful, + half-saucy frankness, said: “A fine prospect, sir.” The pedestrian + started, and threw a rapid glance over the brilliant figure that accosted + him. Percival St. John was not to be abashed by stern looks; but that + glance might have abashed many a more experienced man. The glance of a + squire upon a corn-law missionary, of a Crockford dandy upon a Regent + Street tiger, could not have been more disdainful. + </p> + <p> + “Tush!” said the pedestrian, rudely, and turned upon his heel. + </p> + <p> + Percival coloured, and—shall we own it?—was boy enough to + double his fist. Little would he have been deterred by the brawn of those + great arms and the girth of that Herculean chest, if he had been quite + sure that it was a proper thing to resent pugilistically so discourteous a + monosyllable. The “tush!” stuck greatly in his throat. But the man, now + removed to the farther verge of the hill, looked so tranquil and so lost + in thought that the short-lived anger died. + </p> + <p> + “And after all, if I were as poor as he looks, I dare say I should be just + as proud,” muttered Percival. “However, it’s his own fault if he goes to + London on foot, when I might at least have given him a lift. Come, Beau, + sir.” + </p> + <p> + With his face still a little flushed, and his hat unconsciously cocked + fiercely on one side, Percival sauntered back to his britzska. + </p> + <p> + As in a whirl of dust the light carriage was borne by the four posters + down the hill, the pedestrian turned for an instant from the view before + to the cloud behind, and muttered: “Ay, a fine prospect for the rich,—a + noble field for the poor!” The tone in which those words were said told + volumes; there spoke the pride, the hope, the energy, the ambition which + make youth laborious, manhood prosperous, age renowned. + </p> + <p> + The stranger then threw himself on the sward, and continued his silent and + intent contemplation till the clouds grew red in the west. When, then, he + rose, his eye was bright, his mien erect, and a smile, playing round his + firm, full lips, stole the moody sternness from his hard face. Throwing + his knapsack once more on his back, John Ardworth went resolutely on to + the great vortex. + </p> + <p> + <a name="Blink2HCH0011" id="Blink2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. THE CORONATION. + </h2> + <p> + The 8th of September, 1831, was a holiday in London. William the Fourth + received the crown of his ancestors in that mighty church in which the + most impressive monitors to human pomp are the monuments of the dead. The + dust of conquerors and statesmen, of the wise heads and the bold hands + that had guarded the thrones of departed kings, slept around; and the + great men of the Modern time were assembled in homage to the monarch to + whom the prowess and the liberty of generations had bequeathed an empire + in which the sun never sets. In the Abbey—thinking little of the + past, caring little for the future—the immense audience gazed + eagerly on the pageant that occurs but once in that division of history,—the + lifetime of a king. The assemblage was brilliant and imposing. The + galleries sparkled with the gems of women who still upheld the celebrity + for form and feature which, from the remotest times, has been awarded to + the great English race. Below, in their robes and coronets, were men who + neither in the senate nor the field have shamed their fathers. Conspicuous + amongst all for grandeur of mien and stature towered the brothers of the + king; while, commanding yet more the universal gaze, were seen, here the + eagle features of the old hero of Waterloo, and there the majestic brow of + the haughty statesman who was leading the people (while the last of the + Bourbons, whom Waterloo had restored to the Tuileries, had left the orb + and purple to the kindred house so fatal to his name) through a stormy and + perilous transition to a bloodless revolution and a new charter. + </p> + <p> + Tier upon tier, in the division set apart for them, the members of the + Lower House moved and murmured above the pageant; and the coronation of + the new sovereign was connected in their minds with the great measure + which, still undecided, made at that time a link between the People and + the King, and arrayed against both, if not, indeed, the real Aristocracy, + at least the Chamber recognized by the Constitution as its representative. + Without the space was one dense mass. Houses, from balcony to balcony, + window to window, were filled as some immense theatre. Up, through the + long thoroughfare to Whitehall, the eye saw that audience,—A PEOPLE; + and the gaze was bounded at the spot where Charles the First had passed + from the banquet-house to the scaffold. + </p> + <p> + The ceremony was over, the procession had swept slowly by, the last huzza + had died away; and after staring a while upon Orator Hunt, who had + clambered up the iron palisade near Westminster Hall, to exhibit his + goodly person in his court attire, the serried crowds, hurrying from the + shower which then unseasonably descended, broke into large masses or + lengthening columns. + </p> + <p> + In that part of London which may be said to form a boundary between its + old and its new world, by which, on the one hand, you pass to Westminster, + or through that gorge of the Strand which leads along endless rows of + shops that have grown up on the sites of the ancient halls of the + Salisburys and the Exeters, the Buckinghams and Southamptons; to the heart + of the City built around the primeval palace of the “Tower;” while, on the + other hand, you pass into the new city of aristocracy and letters, of art + and fashion, embracing the whilom chase of Marylebone, and the once + sedge-grown waters of Pimlico,—by this ignoble boundary (the + crossing from the Opera House, at the bottom of the Haymarket, to the + commencement of Charing Cross) stood a person whose discontented + countenance was in singular contrast with the general gayety and animation + of the day. This person, O gentle reader, this sour, querulous, + discontented person, was a king, too, in his own walk! None might dispute + it. He feared no rebel; he was harassed by no reform; he ruled without + ministers. Tools he had; but when worn out, he replaced them without a + pension or a sigh. He lived by taxes, but they were voluntary; and his + Civil List was supplied without demand for the redress of grievances. This + person, nevertheless, not deposed, was suspended from his empire for the + day. He was pushed aside; he was forgotten. He was not distinct from the + crowd. Like Titus, he had lost a day,—his vocation was gone. This + person was the Sweeper of the Crossing! + </p> + <p> + He was a character. He was young, in the fairest prime of youth; but it + was the face of an old man on young shoulders. His hair was long, thin, + and prematurely streaked with gray; his face was pale and deeply furrowed; + his eyes were hollow, and their stare gleamed, cold and stolid, under his + bent and shaggy brows. The figure was at once fragile and ungainly, and + the narrow shoulders curved in a perpetual stoop. It was a person, once + noticed, that you would easily remember, and associate with some + undefined, painful impression. The manner was humble, but not meek; the + voice was whining, but without pathos. There was a meagre, passionless + dulness about the aspect, though at times it quickened into a kind of avid + acuteness. No one knew by what human parentage this personage came into + the world. He had been reared by the charity of a stranger, crept through + childhood and misery and rags mysteriously; and suddenly succeeded an old + defunct negro in the profitable crossing whereat he is now standing. All + education was unknown to him, so was all love. In those festive haunts at + St. Giles’s where he who would see “life in London” may often discover the + boy who has held his horse in the morning dancing merrily with his chosen + damsel at night, our sweeper’s character was austere as Charles the + Twelfth’s. And the poor creature had his good qualities. He was + sensitively alive to kindness,—little enough had been shown him to + make the luxury the more prized from its rarity! Though fond of money, he + would part with it (we do not say cheerfully, but part with it still),—not + to mere want, indeed (for he had been too pinched and starved himself, and + had grown too obtuse to pinching and to starving for the sensitiveness + that prompts to charity), but to any of his companions who had done him a + good service, or who had even warmed his dull heart by a friendly smile. + He was honest, too,—honest to the backbone. You might have trusted + him with gold untold. Through the heavy clod which man’s care had not + moulded, nor books enlightened, nor the priest’s solemn lore informed, + still natural rays from the great parent source of Deity struggled, fitful + and dim. He had no lawful name; none knew if sponsors had ever stood + security for his sins at the sacred fount. But he had christened himself + by the strange, unchristian like name of “Beck.” There he was, then, + seemingly without origin, parentage, or kindred tie,—a lonesome, + squalid, bloodless thing, which the great monster, London, seemed to have + spawned forth of its own self; one of its sickly, miserable, rickety + offspring, whom it puts out at nurse to Penury, at school to Starvation, + and, finally, and literally, gives them stones for bread, with the option + of the gallows or the dunghill when the desperate offspring calls on the + giant mother for return and home. + </p> + <p> + And this creature did love something,—loved, perhaps, some + fellow-being; of that hereafter, when we dive into the secrets of his + privacy. Meanwhile, openly and frankly, he loved his crossing; he was + proud of his crossing; he was grateful to his crossing. God help thee, son + of the street, why not? He had in it a double affection,—that of + serving and being served. He kept the crossing, if the crossing kept him. + He smiled at times to himself when he saw it lie fair and brilliant amidst + the mire around; it bestowed on him a sense of property! What a man may + feel for a fine estate in a ring fence, Beck felt for that isthmus of the + kennel which was subject to his broom. The coronation had made one + rebellious spirit when it swept the sweeper from his crossing. + </p> + <p> + He stood, then, half under the colonnade of the Opera House as the crowd + now rapidly grew thinner and more scattered: and when the last carriage of + a long string of vehicles had passed by, he muttered audibly,— + </p> + <p> + “It’ll take a deal of pains to make she right agin!” + </p> + <p> + “So you be’s ‘ere to-day, Beck!” said a ragamuffin boy, who, pushing and + scrambling through his betters, now halted, and wiped his forehead as he + looked at the sweeper. “Vy, ve are all out pleasuring. Vy von’t you come + with ve? Lots of fun!” + </p> + <p> + The sweeper scowled at the urchin, and made no answer, but began + sedulously to apply himself to the crossing. + </p> + <p> + “Vy, there isn’t another sweep in the streets, Beck. His Majesty King + Bill’s currynation makes all on us so ‘appy!” + </p> + <p> + “It has made she unkimmon dirty!” returned Beck, pointing to the dingy + crossing, scarce distinguished from the rest of the road. + </p> + <p> + The ragamuffin laughed. + </p> + <p> + “But ve be’s goin’ to ‘ave Reform now, Beck. The peopul’s to have their + rights and libties, hand the luds is to be put down, hand beefsteaks is to + be a penny a pound, and—” + </p> + <p> + “What good will that do to she?” + </p> + <p> + “Vy, man, ve shall take turn about, and sum vun helse will sveep the + crossings, and ve shall ride in sum vun helse’s coach and four, p’r’aps,—cos + vy? ve shall hall be hequals!” + </p> + <p> + “Hequals! I tells you vot, if you keeps jawing there, atween me and she, I + shall vop you, Joe,—cos vy? I be’s the biggest!” was the answer of + Beck the sweeper to Joe the ragamuffin. + </p> + <p> + The jovial Joe laughed aloud, snapped his fingers, threw up his ragged cap + with a shout for King Bill, and set off scampering and whooping to join + those festivities which Beck had so churlishly disdained. + </p> + <p> + Time crept on; evening began to close in, and Beck was still at his + crossing, when a young gentleman on horseback, who, after seeing the + procession, had stolen away for a quiet ride in the suburbs, reined in + close by the crossing, and looking round, as for some one to hold his + horse, could discover no loiterer worthy that honour except the solitary + Beck. So young was the rider that he seemed still a boy. On his smooth + countenance all that most prepossesses in early youth left its witching + stamp. A smile, at once gay and sweet, played on his lips. There was a + charm, even in a certain impatient petulance, in his quick eye and the + slight contraction of his delicate brows. Almaviva might well have been + jealous of such a page. He was the beau-ideal of Cherubino. He held up his + whip, with an arch sign, to the sweeper. “Follow, my man,” he said, in a + tone the very command of which sounded gentle, so blithe was the movement + of the lips, and so silvery the easy accent; and without waiting, he + cantered carelessly down Pall Mall. + </p> + <p> + The sweeper cast a rueful glance at his melancholy domain. But he had + gained but little that day, and the offer was too tempting to be rejected. + He heaved a sigh, shouldered his broom, and murmuring to himself that he + would give her a last brush before he retired for the night, he put his + long limbs into that swinging, shambling trot which characterizes the + motion of those professional jackals who, having once caught sight of a + groomless rider, fairly hunt him down, and appear when he least expects + it, the instant he dismounts. The young rider lightly swung himself from + his sleek, high-bred gray at the door of one of the clubs in St. James’s + Street, patted his horse’s neck, chucked the rein to the sweeper, and + sauntered into the house, whistling musically,—if not from want of + thought, certainly from want of care. + </p> + <p> + As he entered the club, two or three men, young indeed, but much older, to + appearance at least, than himself, who were dining together at the same + table, nodded to him their friendly greeting. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Perce,” said one, “we have only just sat down; here is a seat for + you.” + </p> + <p> + The boy blushed shyly as he accepted the proposal, and the young men made + room for him at the table, with a smiling alacrity which showed that his + shyness was no hindrance to his popularity. + </p> + <p> + “Who,” said an elderly dandy, dining apart with one of his contemporaries,—“who + is that lad? One ought not to admit such mere boys into the club.” + </p> + <p> + “He is the only surviving son of an old friend of ours,” answered the + other, dropping his eyeglass,—“young Percival St. John.” + </p> + <p> + “St. John! What! Vernon St. John’s son?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “He has not his father’s good air. These young fellows have a tone, a + something,—a want of self-possession, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Very true. The fact is, that Percival was meant for the navy, and even + served as a mid for a year or so. He was a younger son, then,—third, + I think. The two elder ones died, and Master Percival walked into the + inheritance. I don’t think he is quite of age yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Of age! he does not look seventeen.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he is more than that; I remember him in his jacket at Laughton. A + fine property!” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, I don’t wonder those fellows are so civil to him. This claret is + corked! Everything is so bad at this d——d club,—no + wonder, when a troop of boys are let in! Enough to spoil any club; don’t + know Larose from Lafitte! Waiter!” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, the talk round the table at which sat Percival St. John was + animated, lively, and various,—the talk common with young idlers; of + horses, and steeplechases, and opera-dancers, and reigning beauties, and + good-humoured jests at each other. In all this babble there was a + freshness about Percival St. John’s conversation which showed that, as + yet, for him life had the zest of novelty. He was more at home about + horses and steeplechases than about opera-dancers and beauties and the + small scandals of town. Talk on these latter topics did not seem to + interest him, on the contrary, almost to pain. Shy and modest as a girl, + he coloured or looked aside when his more hardened friends boasted of + assignations and love-affairs. Spirited, gay, and manly enough in all + really manly points, the virgin bloom of innocence was yet visible in his + frank, charming manner; and often, out of respect for his delicacy, some + hearty son of pleasure stopped short in his narrative, or lost the point + of his anecdote. And yet so lovable was Percival in his good humour, his + naivete, his joyous entrance into innocent joy, that his companions were + scarcely conscious of the gene and restraint he imposed on them. Those + merry, dark eyes and that flashing smile were conviviality of themselves. + They brought with them a contagious cheerfulness which compensated for the + want of corruption. + </p> + <p> + Night had set in. St. John’s companions had departed to their several + haunts, and Percival himself stood on the steps of the club, resolving + that he would join the crowds that swept through the streets to gaze on + the illuminations, when he perceived Beck (still at the rein of his dozing + horse), whom he had quite forgotten till that moment. Laughing at his own + want of memory, Percival put some silver into Beck’s hand,—more + silver than Beck had ever before received for similar service,—and + said,— + </p> + <p> + “Well, my man, I suppose I can trust you to take my horse to his stables,—No.——, + the Mews, behind Curzon Street. Poor fellow, he wants his supper,—and + you, too, I suppose!” + </p> + <p> + Beck smiled a pale, hungry smile, and pulled his forelock politely. + </p> + <p> + “I can take the ‘oss werry safely, your ‘onor.” + </p> + <p> + “Take him, then, and good evening; but don’t get on, for your life.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, sir; I never gets on,—‘t aint in my ways.” + </p> + <p> + And Beck slowly led the horse through the crowd, till he vanished from + Percival’s eyes. + </p> + <p> + Just then a man passing through the street paused as he saw the young + gentleman on the steps of the club, and said gayly, “Ah! how do you do? + Pretty faces in plenty out to-night. Which way are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “That is more than I can tell you, Mr. Varney. I was just thinking which + turn to take,—the right or the left.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let me be your guide;” and Varney offered his arm. + </p> + <p> + Percival accepted the courtesy, and the two walked on towards Piccadilly. + Many a kind glance from the milliners—and maid-servants whom the + illuminations drew abroad, roved, somewhat impartially, towards St. John + and his companion; but they dwelt longer on the last, for there at least + they were sure of a return. Varney, if not in his first youth, was still + in the prime of life, and Time had dealt with him so leniently that he + retained all the personal advantages of youth itself. His complexion still + was clear; and as only his upper lip, decorated with a slight silken and + well-trimmed mustache, was unshaven, the contour of the face added to the + juvenility of his appearance by the rounded symmetry it betrayed. His hair + escaped from his hat in fair unchanged luxuriance. And the nervous figure, + agile as a panther’s, though broad-shouldered and deep-chested, denoted + all the slightness and elasticity of twenty-five, combined with the + muscular power of forty. His dress was rather fantastic,—too showy + for the good taste which is habitual to the English gentleman,—and + there was a peculiarity in his gait, almost approaching to a strut, which + bespoke a desire of effect, a consciousness of personal advantages, + equally opposed to the mien and manner of Percival’s usual companions; yet + withal, even the most fastidious would have hesitated to apply to Gabriel + Varney the epithet of “vulgar.” Many turned to look again, but it was not + to remark the dress or the slight swagger; an expression of reckless, + sinister power in the countenance, something of vigour and determination + even in that very walk, foppish as it would have been in most, made you + sink all observation of the mere externals, in a sentiment of curiosity + towards the man himself. He seemed a somebody,—not a somebody of + conventional rank, but a somebody of personal individuality; an artist, + perhaps a poet, or a soldier in some foreign service, but certainly a man + whose name you would expect to have heard of. Amongst the common mob of + passengers he stood out in marked and distinct relief. + </p> + <p> + “I feel at home in a crowd,” said Varney. “Do you understand me?” + </p> + <p> + “I think so,” answered Percival. “If ever I could become distinguished, I, + too, should feel at home in a crowd.” + </p> + <p> + “You have ambition, then; you mean to become distinguished?” asked Varney, + with a sharp, searching look. + </p> + <p> + There was a deeper and steadier flash than usual from Percival’s dark + eyes, and a manlier glow over his cheek, at Varney’s question. But he was + slow in answering; and when he did so, his manner had all its wonted + mixture of graceful bashfulness and gay candour. + </p> + <p> + “Our rise does not always depend on ourselves. We are not all born great, + nor do we all have ‘greatness thrust on us.’” + </p> + <p> + “One can be what one likes, with your fortune,” said Varney; and there was + a growl of envy in his voice. + </p> + <p> + “What, be a painter like you! Ha, ha!” + </p> + <p> + “Faith,” said Varney, “at least, if you could paint at all, you would have + what I have not,—praise and fame.” + </p> + <p> + Percival pressed kindly on Varney’s arm. “Courage! you will get justice + some day.” + </p> + <p> + Varney shook his head. “Bah! there is no such thing as justice; all are + underrated or overrated. Can you name one man who you think is estimated + by the public at his precise value? As for present popularity, it depends + on two qualities, each singly, or both united,—cowardice and + charlatanism; that is, servile compliance with the taste and opinion of + the moment, or a quack’s spasmodic efforts at originality. But why bore + you on such matters? There are things more attractive round us. A good + ankle that, eh? Why, pardon me, it is strange, but you don’t seem to care + much for women?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I do,” said Percival, with a sly demureness. “I am very fond of—my + mother!” + </p> + <p> + “Very proper and filial,” said Varney, laughing; “and does your love for + the sex stop there?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and in truth I fancy so,—pretty nearly. You know my + grandmother is not alive! But that is something really worth looking at!” + And Percival pointed, almost with a child’s delight, at an illumination + more brilliant than the rest. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose, when you come of age, you will have all the cedars at Laughton + hung with coloured lamps. Ah, you must ask me there some day; I should so + like to see the old place again.” + </p> + <p> + “You never saw it, I think you say, in my poor father’s time?” + </p> + <p> + “Never.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet you knew him.” + </p> + <p> + “But slightly.” + </p> + <p> + “And you never saw my mother?” + </p> + <p> + “No; but she seems to have such influence over you that I am sure she must + be a very superior person,—rather proud, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “Proud, no,—that is, not exactly proud, for she is very meek and + very affable. But yet—” + </p> + <p> + “‘But yet—’ You hesitate: she would not like you to be seen, + perhaps, walking in Piccadilly with Gabriel Varney, the natural son of old + Sir Miles’s librarian,—Gabriel Varney the painter; Gabriel Varney + the adventurer!” + </p> + <p> + “As long as Gabriel Varney is a man without stain on his character and + honour, my mother would only be pleased that I should know an able and + accomplished person, whatever his origin or parentage. But my mother would + be sad if she knew me intimate with a Bourbon or a Raphael, the first in + rank or the first in genius, if either prince or artist had lost, or even + sullied, his scutcheon of gentleman. In a word, she is most sensitive as + to honour and conscience; all else she disregards.” + </p> + <p> + “Hem!” Varney stooped down, as if examining the polish of his boot, while + he continued carelessly: “Impossible to walk the streets and keep one’s + boots out of the mire. Well—and you agree with your mother?” + </p> + <p> + “It would be strange if I did not. When I was scarcely four years old, my + poor father used to lead me through the long picture-gallery at Laughton + and say: ‘Walk through life as if those brave gentlemen looked down on + you.’ And,” added St. John, with his ingenuous smile, “my mother would put + in her word,—‘And those unstained women too, my Percival.’” + </p> + <p> + There was something noble and touching in the boy’s low accents as he said + this; it gave the key to his unusual modesty and his frank, healthful + innocence of character. + </p> + <p> + The devil in Varney’s lip sneered mockingly. + </p> + <p> + “My young friend, you have never loved yet. Do you think you ever shall?” + </p> + <p> + “I have dreamed that I could love one day. But I can wait.” + </p> + <p> + Varney was about to reply, when he was accosted abruptly by three men of + that exaggerated style of dress and manner which is implied by the vulgar + appellation of “Tigrish.” Each of the three men had a cigar in his mouth, + each seemed flushed with wine. One wore long brass spurs and immense + mustaches; another was distinguished by an enormous surface of black satin + cravat, across which meandered a Pactolus of gold chain; a third had his + coat laced and braided a la Polonaise, and pinched and padded a la Russe, + with trousers shaped to the calf of a sinewy leg, and a glass screwed into + his right eye. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Gabriel! ah, Varney! ah, prince of good fellows, well met! You sup + with us to-night at little Celeste’s; we were just going in search of + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Who’s your friend,—one of us?” whispered a second. And the third + screwed his arm tight and lovingly into Varney’s. + </p> + <p> + Gabriel, despite his habitual assurance, looked abashed foz a moment, and + would have extricated himself from cordialities not at that moment + welcome; but he saw that his friends were too far gone in their cups to be + easily shaken off, and he felt relieved when Percival, after a + dissatisfied glance at the three, said quietly: “I must detain you no + longer; I shall soon look in at your studio;” and without waiting for an + answer, slid off, and was lost among the crowd. + </p> + <p> + Varney walked on with his new-found friends, unheeding for some moments + their loose remarks and familiar banter. At length he shook off his + abstraction, and surrendering himself to the coarse humours of his + companions, soon eclipsed them all by the gusto of his slang and the + mocking profligacy of his sentiments; for here he no longer played a part, + or suppressed his grosser instincts. That uncurbed dominion of the senses, + to which his very boyhood had abandoned itself, found a willing slave in + the man. Even the talents themselves that he displayed came from the + cultivation of the sensual. His eye, studying externals, made him a + painter,—his ear, quick and practised, a musician. His wild, + prodigal fancy rioted on every excitement, and brought him in a vast + harvest of experience in knowledge of the frailties and the vices on which + it indulged its vagrant experiments. Men who over-cultivate the art that + connects itself with the senses, with little counterpoise from the reason + and pure intellect, are apt to be dissipated and irregular in their lives. + This is frequently noticeable in the biographies of musicians, singers, + and painters; less so in poets, because he who deals with words, not signs + and tones, must perpetually compare his senses with the pure images of + which the senses only see the appearances,—in a word, he must employ + his intellect, and his self-education must be large and comprehensive. But + with most real genius, however fed merely by the senses,—most really + great painters, singers, and musicians, however easily led astray into + temptation,—the richness of the soil throws up abundant good + qualities to countervail or redeem the evil; they are usually + compassionate, generous, sympathizing. That Varney had not such beauties + of soul and temperament it is unnecessary to add,—principally, it is + true, because of his nurture, education, parental example, the utter + corruption in which his childhood and youth had passed; partly because he + had no real genius,—-it was a false apparition of the divine spirit, + reflected from the exquisite perfection of his frame (which rendered all + his senses so vigorous and acute) and his riotous fancy and his fitful + energy, which was capable at times of great application, but not of + definite purpose or earnest study. All about him was flashy and hollow. He + had not the natural subtlety and depth of mind that had characterized his + terrible father. The graft of the opera-dancer was visible on the stock of + the scholar; wholly without the habits of method and order, without the + patience, without the mathematical calculating brain of Dalibard, he + played wantonly with the horrible and loathsome wickedness of which + Olivier had made dark and solemn study. Extravagant and lavish, he spent + money as fast as he gained it; he threw away all chances of eminence and + career. In the midst of the direst plots of his villany or the most + energetic pursuit of his art, the poorest excitement, the veriest bauble + would draw him aside. His heart was with Falri in the sty, his fancy with + Aladdin in the palace. To make a show was his darling object; he loved to + create effect by his person, his talk, his dress, as well as by his + talents. Living from hand to mouth, crimes through which it is not our + intention to follow him had at times made him rich to-day, for vices to + make him poor again to-morrow. What he called “luck,” or “his star,” had + favoured him,—he was not hanged!—he lived; and as the greater + part of his unscrupulous career had been conducted in foreign lands and + under other names, in his own name and in his own country, though + something scarcely to be defined, but equivocal and provocative of + suspicion, made him displeasing to the prudent, and vaguely alarmed the + experience of the sober, still, no positive accusation was attached to the + general integrity of his character, and the mere dissipation of his habits + was naturally little known out of his familiar circle. Hence he had the + most presumptuous confidence in himself,—a confidence native to his + courage, and confirmed by his experience. His conscience was so utterly + obtuse that he might almost be said to present the phenomenon of a man + without conscience at all. Unlike Conrad, he did not “know himself a + villain;” all that he knew of himself was that he was a remarkably clever + fellow, without prejudice or superstition. That, with all his gifts, he + had not succeeded better in life, he ascribed carelessly to the surpassing + wisdom of his philosophy. He could have done better if he had enjoyed + himself less; but was not enjoyment the be-all and end-all of this little + life? More often, indeed, in the moods of his bitter envy, he would lay + the fault upon the world. How great he could have been, if he had been + rich and high-born! Oh, he was made to spend, not to save,—to + command, not to fawn! He was not formed to plod through the dull + mediocrities of fortune; he must toss up for the All or the Nothing! It + was no control over himself that made Varney now turn his thoughts from + certain grave designs on Percival St. John to the brutal debauchery of his + three companions,—rather, he then yielded most to his natural self. + And when the morning star rose over the night he passed with low + profligates and venal nymphs; when over the fragments on the board and + emptied bottles and drunken riot dawn gleamed and saw him in all the pride + of his magnificent organization and the cynicism of his measured vice, + fair, fresh, and blooming amidst those maudlin eyes and flushed cheeks and + reeling figures, laughing hideously over the spectacle he had provoked, + and kicking aside, with a devil’s scorn, the prostrate form of the + favoured partner whose head had rested on his bosom, as alone with a + steady step, he passed the threshold and walked into the fresh, healthful + air,—Gabriel Varney enjoyed the fell triumph of his hell-born + vanity, and revelled in his sentiment of superiority and power. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, on quitting Varney young Percival strolled on as the whim + directed him. Turning down the Haymarket, he gained the colonnade of the + Opera House. The crowd there was so dense that his footsteps were + arrested, and he leaned against one of the columns in admiration of the + various galaxies in view. In front blazed the rival stars of the United + Service Club and the Athenaeum; to the left, the quaint and peculiar + device which lighted up Northumberland House; to the right, the anchors, + cannons, and bombs which typified ingeniously the martial attributes of + the Ordnance Office. + </p> + <p> + At that moment there were three persons connected with this narrative + within a few feet of each other, distinguished from the multitude by the + feelings with which each regarded the scene, and felt the jostle of the + crowd. Percival St. John, in whom the harmless sense of pleasure was yet + vivid and unsatiated, caught from the assemblage only that physical + hilarity which heightened his own spirits. If in a character as yet so + undeveloped, to which the large passions and stern ends of life were as + yet unknown, stirred some deeper and more musing thoughts and + speculations, giving gravity to the habitual smile on his rosy lip, and + steadying the play of his sparkling eyes, he would have been at a loss + himself to explain the dim sentiment and the vague desire. + </p> + <p> + Screened by another column from the pressure of the mob, with his arms + folded on his breast, a man some few years older in point of time,—many + years older in point of character,—gazed (with thoughts how + turbulent,—with ambition how profound!) upon the dense and dark + masses that covered space and street far as the eye could reach. He, + indeed, could not have said, with Varney, that he was “at home in a + crowd.” For a crowd did not fill him with the sense of his own individual + being and importance, but grappled him to its mighty breast with the + thousand tissues of a common destiny. Who shall explain and disentangle + those high and restless and interwoven emotions with which intellectual + ambition, honourable and ardent, gazes upon that solemn thing with which, + in which, for which it lives and labours,—the Human Multitude? To + that abstracted, solitary man, the illumination, the festivity, the + curiosity, the holiday, were nothing, or but as fleeting phantoms and vain + seemings. In his heart’s eye he saw before him but the PEOPLE, the shadow + of an everlasting audience,—audience at once and judge. + </p> + <p> + And literally touching him as he stood, the ragged sweeper, who had + returned in vain to devote a last care to his beloved charge, stood + arrested with the rest, gazing joylessly on the blazing lamps, dead as the + stones he heeded, to the young vivacity of the one man, the solemn visions + of the other. So, O London, amidst the universal holiday to monarch and to + mob, in those three souls lived the three elements which, duly mingled and + administered, make thy vice and thy virtue, thy glory and thy shame, thy + labour and thy luxury; pervading the palace and the street, the hospital + and the prison,—enjoyment, which is pleasure; energy, which is + action; torpor, which is want! + </p> + <p> + <a name="Blink2HCH0012" id="Blink2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT. + </h2> + <p> + Suddenly across the gaze of Percival St. John there flashed a face that + woke him from his abstraction, as a light awakes the sleeper. It was as a + recognition of something seen dimly before,—a truth coming out from + a dream. It was not the mere beauty of that face (and beautiful it was) + that arrested his eye and made his heart beat more quickly, it was rather + that nameless and inexplicable sympathy which constitutes love at first + sight,—a sort of impulse and instinct common to the dullest as the + quickest, the hardest reason as the liveliest fancy. Plain Cobbett, seeing + before the cottage-door, at her homeliest of house-work, the girl of whom + he said, “That girl should be my wife,” and Dante, first thrilled by the + vision of Beatrice,—are alike true types of a common experience. + Whatever of love sinks the deepest is felt at first sight; it streams on + us abrupt from the cloud, a lightning flash,—a destiny revealed to + us face to face. + </p> + <p> + Now, there was nothing poetical in the place or the circumstance, still + less in the companionship in which this fair creature startled the virgin + heart of that careless boy; she was leaning on the arm of a stout, + rosy-faced matron in a puce-coloured gown, who was flanked on the other + side by a very small, very spare man, with a very wee face, the lower part + of which was enveloped in an immense belcher. Besides these two + incumbrances, the stout lady contrived to carry in her hands an umbrella, + a basket, and a pair of pattens. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of the strange, unfamiliar emotion which his eye conveyed to + his heart, Percival’s ear was displeasingly jarred by the loud, bluff, + hearty voice of the girl’s female companion— + </p> + <p> + “Gracious me! if that is not John Ardworth. Who’d have thought it? Why, + John,—I say, John!” and lifting her umbrella horizontally, she poked + aside two city clerks in front of her, wheeled round the little man on her + left, upon whom the clerks simultaneously bestowed the appellation of + “feller,” and driving him, as being the sharpest and thinnest wedge at + hand, through a dense knot of some half-a-dozen gapers, while, following + his involuntary progress, she looked defiance on the malcontents, she + succeeded in clearing her way to the spot where stood the young man she + had discovered. The ambitious dreamer, for it was he, thus detected and + disturbed, looked embarrassed for a moment as the stout lady, touching him + with the umbrella, said,— + </p> + <p> + “Well, I declare if this is not too bad! You sent word that you should not + be able to come out with us to see the ‘luminations, and here you are as + large as life!” + </p> + <p> + “I did not think, at the moment you wrote to me, that-” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, stuff!” interrupted the stout woman, with a significant, + good-humoured shake of her head; “I know what’s what. Tell the truth, and + shame the gentleman who objects to showing his feet. You are a wild + fellow, John Ardworth, you are! You like looking after the pretty faces, + you do, you do—ha, ha, ha! very natural! So did you once,—did + not you, Mr. Mivers, did not you, eh? Men must be men,—they always + are men, and it’s my belief that men they always will be!” + </p> + <p> + With this sage conjecture into the future, the lady turned to Mr. Mivers, + who, thus appealed to, extricated with some difficulty his chin from the + folds of his belcher, and putting up his small face, said, in a small + voice, “Yes, I was a wild fellow once; but you have tamed me, you have, + Mrs. M.!” + </p> + <p> + And therewith the chin sank again into the belcher, and the small voice + died into a small sigh. + </p> + <p> + The stout lady glanced benignly at her spouse, and then resuming her + address, to which Ardworth listened with a half-frown and a half-smile, + observed encouragingly,— + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there’s nothing like a lawful wife to break a man in, as you will + find some day. Howsomever, your time’s not come for the altar, so suppose + you give Helen your arm, and come with us.” + </p> + <p> + “Do,” said Helen, in a sweet, coaxing voice. + </p> + <p> + Ardworth bent down his rough, earnest face to Helen’s, and an evident + pleasure relaxed its thoughtful lines. “I cannot resist you,” he began, + and then he paused and frowned. “Pish!” he added, “I was talking folly; + but what head would not you turn? Resist you I must, for I am on my way + now to my drudgery. Ask me anything some years hence, when I have time to + be happy, and then see if I am the bear you now call me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Mrs. Mivers, emphatically, “are you coming, or are you not? + Don’t stand there shilly-shally.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Mivers,” returned Ardworth, with a kind of sly humour, “I am sure + you would be very angry with your husband’s excellent shopmen if that was + the way they spoke to your customers. If some unhappy dropper-in,—some + lady who came to buy a yard or so of Irish,—was suddenly dazzled, as + I am, by a luxury wholly unforeseen and eagerly coveted,—a splendid + lace veil, or a ravishing cashmere, or whatever else you ladies + desiderate,—and while she was balancing between prudence and + temptation, your foreman exclaimed: `Don’t stand shilly-shally’—come, + I put it to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Stuff!” said Mrs. Mivers. + </p> + <p> + “Alas! unlike your imaginary customer (I hope so, at least, for the sake + of your till), prudence gets the better of me; unless,” added Ardworth, + irresolutely, and glancing at Helen,—“unless, indeed, you are not + sufficiently protected, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Purtected!” exclaimed Mrs. Mivers, in an indignant tone of astonishment, + and agitating the formidable umbrella; “as if I was not enough, with the + help of this here domestic commodity, to purtect a dozen such. Purtected, + indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “John is right, Mrs. M.,—business is business,” said Mr. Mivers. + “Let us move on; we stop the way, and those idle lads are listening to us, + and sniggering.” + </p> + <p> + “Sniggering!” exclaimed the gentle helpmate. “I should like to see those + who presume for to snigger;” and as she spoke, she threw a look of + defiance around her. Then, having thus satisfied her resentment, she + prepared to obey, as no doubt she always did, her lord and master. + Suddenly, with a practised movement, she wheeled round Mr. Mivers, and + taking care to protrude before him the sharp point of the umbrella, cut + her way through the crowd like the scythed car of the Ancient Britons, and + was soon lost amidst the throng, although her way might be guessed by a + slight ripple of peculiar agitation along the general stream, accompanied + by a prolonged murmur of reproach or expostulation which gradually died in + the distance. + </p> + <p> + Ardworth gazed after the fair form of Helen with a look of regret; and + when it vanished, with a slight start and a suppressed sigh he turned + away, and with the long, steady stride of a strong man, cleared his path + through the Strand towards the printing-office of a journal on which he + was responsibly engaged. + </p> + <p> + But Percival, who had caught much of the conversation that took place so + near him,—Percival, happy child of idleness and whim,—had no + motive of labour and occupation to stay the free impulse of his heart, and + his heart drew him on, with magnetic attraction, in the track of the first + being that had ever touched the sweet instincts of youth. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Mrs. Mivers was destined to learn—though perhaps the + lesson little availed her—that to get smoothly through this world it + is necessary to be supple as well as strong; and though, up to a certain + point, man or woman may force the way by poking umbrellas into people’s + ribs and treading mercilessly upon people’s toes, yet the endurance of + ribs and toes has its appointed limits. + </p> + <p> + Helen, half terrified, also half amused by her companion’s robust + resolution of purpose, had in Mrs. Mivers’s general courage and success + that confidence which the weak repose in the strong; and though whenever + she turned her eyes from the illuminations, she besought Mrs. Mivers to be + more gentle, yet, seeing that they had gone safely from St. Paul’s to St. + James’s, she had no distinct apprehension of any practically ill results + from the energies she was unable to mitigate. But now, having just gained + the end of St. James’s Street, Mrs. Mivers at last found her match. The + crowd here halted, thick and serried, to gaze in peace upon the brilliant + vista which the shops and clubs of that street presented. Coaches and + carriages had paused in their line, and immediately before Mrs. Mivers + stood three very thin, small women, whose dress bespoke them to be of the + humblest class. + </p> + <p> + “Make way, there; make way, my good women, make way!” cried Mrs. Mivers, + equally disdainful of the size and the rank of the obstructing parties. + </p> + <p> + “Arrah, and what shall we make way for the like of you, you old busybody?” + said one of the dames, turning round, and presenting a very formidable + squint to the broad optics of Mrs. Mivers. + </p> + <p> + Without deigning a reply, Mrs. Mivers had recourse to her usual tactics. + Umbrella and husband went right between two of the feminine obstructives; + and to the inconceivable astonishment and horror of the assailant, husband + and umbrella instantly vanished. The three small furies had pounced upon + both. They were torn from their natural owner; they were hurried away; the + stream behind, long fretted at the path so abruptly made amidst it, closed + in, joyous, with a thousand waves. Mrs. Mivers and Helen were borne + forward in one way, the umbrella and the husband in the other; in the + distance a small voice was heard: “Don’t you! don’t! Be quiet! Mrs.—Mrs. + M.! Oh, oh, Mrs. M.!” At that last repetition of the beloved and familiar + initial, uttered in a tone of almost superhuman anguish, the conjugal + heart of Mrs. Mivers was afflicted beyond control. + </p> + <p> + “Wait here a moment, my dear; I’ll just give it them, that’s all!” And in + another moment Mrs. Mivers was heard bustling, scolding, till all trace of + her whereabout was gone from the eyes of Helen. Thus left alone, in + exceeding shame and dismay, the poor girl cast a glance around. The glance + was caught by two young men, whose station, in these days when dress is an + equivocal designator of rank, could not be guessed by their exterior. They + might be dandies from the west,—they might be clerks from the east. + </p> + <p> + “By Jove,” exclaimed one, “that’s a sweet pretty girl!” and, by a sudden + movement of the crowd, they both found themselves close to Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Are you alone, my dear?” said a voice rudely familiar. Helen made no + reply; the tone of the voice frightened her. A gap in the mob showed the + space towards Cleveland Row, which, leading to no illuminations, was + vacant and solitary. She instantly made towards this spot; the two men + followed her, the bolder and elder one occasionally trying to catch hold + of her arm. At last, as she passed the last house to the left, a house + then owned by one who, at once far-sighted and impetuous, affable and + haughty, characterized alike by solid virtues and brilliant faults, would, + but for hollow friends, have triumphed over countless foes, and enjoyed at + last that brief day of stormy power for which statesmen resign the health + of manhood and the hope of age,—as she passed that memorable + mansion, she suddenly perceived that the space before her had no + thoroughfare; and, while she paused in dismay, her pursuers blockaded her + escape. + </p> + <p> + One of them now fairly seized her hand. “Nay, pretty one, why so cruel? + But one kiss,—only one!” He endeavoured to pass his arm round her + waist while he spoke. Helen eluded him, and darted forward, to find her + way stopped by her persecutor’s companion, when, to her astonishment, a + third person gently pushed aside the form that impeded her path, + approached, and looking mute defiance at the unchivalric molesters, + offered her his arm. Helen gave but one timid, hurrying glance to her + unexpected protector; something in his face, his air, his youth, appealed + at once to her confidence. Mechanically, and scarce knowing what she did, + she laid her trembling hand on the arm held out to her. + </p> + <p> + The two Lotharios looked foolish. One pulled up his shirt-collar, and the + other turned, with a forced laugh, on his heel. Boy as Percival seemed, + and little more than boy as he was, there was a dangerous fire in his eye, + and an expression of spirit and ready courage in his whole countenance, + which, if it did not awe his tall rivals, made them at least unwilling to + have a scene and provoke the interference of a policeman; one of whom was + now seen walking slowly up to the spot. They therefore preserved a + discomfited silence; and Percival St. John, with his heart going ten knots + a beat, sailed triumphantly off with his prize. + </p> + <p> + Scarcely knowing whither he went, certainly forgetful of Mr. Mivers, in + his anxiety to escape at least from the crowd, Percival walked on till he + found himself with his fair charge under the trees of St. James’s Park. + </p> + <p> + Then Helen, recovering herself, paused, and said, alarmed: “But this is + not my way; I must go back to the street!” + </p> + <p> + “How foolish I am! That is true,” said Percival, looking confused. “I—I + felt so happy to be with you, feel your hand on my arm, and think that we + were all by ourselves, that—that—-But you have dropped your + flowers!” + </p> + <p> + And as a bouquet Helen wore, dislodged somehow or other, fell to the + ground, both stooped to pick it up, and their hands met. At that touch, + Percival felt a strange tremble, which perhaps communicated itself (for + such things are contagious) to his fair companion. Percival had got the + nosegay, and seemed willing to detain it; for he bent his face lingeringly + over the flowers. At length he turned his bright, ingenuous eyes to Helen, + and singling one rose from the rest, said beseechingly: “May I keep this? + See, it is not so fresh as the others.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure, sir,” said Helen, colouring, and looking down, “I owe you so + much that I should be glad if a poor flower could repay it.” + </p> + <p> + “A poor flower! You don’t know what a prize this is to me!” Percival + placed the rose reverently in his bosom, and the two moved back slowly, as + if reluctant both, through the old palace-court into the street. + </p> + <p> + “Is that lady related to you?” asked Percival, looking another way, and + dreading the reply,—“not your mother, surely!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! I have no mother!” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me!” said Percival; for the tone of Helen’s voice told him that + he had touched the spring of a household sorrow. “And,” he added, with a + jealousy that he could scarcely restrain from making itself evident in his + accent, “that gentleman who spoke to you under the Colonnade,—I have + seen him before, but where I cannot remember. In fact, you have put + everything but yourself out of my head. Is he related to you?” + </p> + <p> + “He is my cousin.” + </p> + <p> + “Cousin!” repeated Percival, pouting a little; and again there was + silence. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know how it is,” said Percival at last, and very gravely, as if + much perplexed by some abstruse thought, “but I feel as if I had known you + all my life. I never felt this for any one before.” + </p> + <p> + There was something so irresistibly innocent in the boy’s serious, + wondering tone as he said these words that a smile, in spite of herself, + broke out amongst the thousand dimples round Helen’s charming lips. + Perhaps the little witch felt a touch of coquetry for the first time. + </p> + <p> + Percival, who was looking sidelong into her face, saw the smile, and said, + drawing up his head, and shaking back his jetty curls: “I dare say you are + laughing at me as a mere boy; but I am older than I look. I am sure I am + much older than you are. Let me see, you are seventeen, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + Helen, getting more and more at her ease, nodded playful assent. + </p> + <p> + “And I am not far from twenty-one. Ah, you may well look surprised, but so + it is. An hour ago I felt a mere boy; now I shall never feel a boy again!” + </p> + <p> + Once more there was a long pause, and before it was broken, they had + gained the very spot in which Helen had lost her friend. + </p> + <p> + “Why, bless us and save us!” exclaimed a voice “loud as a trumpet,” but + not “with a silver sound,” “there you are, after all;” and Mrs. Mivers + (husband and umbrella both regained) planted herself full before them. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a pretty fright I have been in! And now to see you coming along as + cool as if nothing had happened; as if the humbrella had not lost its + hivory ‘andle,—it’s quite purvoking. Dear, dear, what we have gone + through! And who is this young gentleman, pray?” + </p> + <p> + Helen whispered some hesitating explanation, which Mrs. Mivers did not + seem to receive as graciously as Percival, poor fellow, had a right to + expect. She stared him full in the face, and shook her head suspiciously + when she saw him a little confused by the survey. Then, tucking Helen + tightly under her arm, she walked back towards the Haymarket, merely + saying to Percival,— + </p> + <p> + “Much obligated, and good-night. I have a long journey to take to set down + this here young lady; and the best thing we can all do is to get home as + fast as we can, and have a refreshing cup of tea—that’s my mind, + sir. Excuse me!” + </p> + <p> + Thus abruptly dismissed, poor Percival gazed wistfully on his Helen as she + was borne along, and was somewhat comforted at seeing her look back with + (as he thought) a touch of regret in her parting smile. Then suddenly it + flashed across him how sadly he had wasted his time. Novice that he was, + he had not even learned the name and address of his new acquaintance. At + that thought he hurried on through the crowd, but only reached the object + of his pursuit just in time to see her placed in a coach, and to catch a + full view of the luxuriant proportions of Mrs. Mivers as she followed her + into the vehicle. + </p> + <p> + As the lumbering conveyance (the only coach on the stand) heaved itself + into motion, Percival’s eye fell on the sweeper, who was still leaning on + his broom, and who, in grateful recognition of the unwonted generosity + that had repaid his service, touched his ragged hat, and smiled drowsily + on his young customer. Love sharpens the wit and animates the timid; a + thought worthy of the most experienced inspired Percival St. John; he + hurried to the sweeper, laid his hand on his patchwork coat, and said + breathlessly,— + </p> + <p> + “You see that coach turning into the square? Follow it,—find out + where it sets down. There’s a sovereign for you; another if you succeed. + Call and tell me your success. Number —— Curzon Street! Off, + like a shot!” + </p> + <p> + The sweeper nodded and grinned; it was possibly not his first commission + of a similar kind. He darted down the street; and Percival, following him + with equal speed, had the satisfaction to see him, as the coach traversed + St. James’s Square, comfortably seated on the footboard. + </p> + <p> + Beck, dull clod, knew nothing, cared nothing, felt nothing as to the + motives or purpose of his employer. Honest love or selfish vice, it was + the same to him. He saw only the one sovereign which, with astounded eyes, + he still gazed at on his palm, and the vision of the sovereign that was + yet to come. + </p> + <p> + “Scandit aeratas vitiosa naves Cura; nee turmas equitum relinquit.” + </p> + <p> + It was the Selfishness of London, calm and stolid, whether on the track of + innocence or at the command of guile. + </p> + <p> + At half-past ten o’clock Percival St. John was seated in his room, and the + sweeper stood at the threshold. Wealth and penury seemed brought into + visible contact in the persons of the visitor and the host. The dwelling + is held by some to give an index to the character of the owner; if so, + Percival’s apartments differed much from those generally favoured by young + men of rank and fortune. On the one hand, it had none of that affectation + of superior taste evinced in marqueterie and gilding, or the more + picturesque discomfort of high-backed chairs and mediaeval curiosities + which prevails in the daintier abodes of fastidious bachelors; nor, on the + other hand, had it the sporting character which individualizes the ruder + juveniles qui gaudent equis, betrayed by engravings of racers and + celebrated fox-hunts, relieved, perhaps, if the Nimrod condescend to a + cross of the Lovelace, with portraits of figurantes, and ideals of French + sentiment entitled, “Le Soir,” or “La Reveillee,” “L’Espoir,” or + “L’Abandon.” But the rooms had a physiognomy of their own, from their + exquisite neatness and cheerful simplicity. The chintz draperies were + lively with gay flowers; books filled up the niches; here and there were + small pictures, chiefly sea-pieces,—well chosen, well placed. + </p> + <p> + There might, indeed, have been something almost effeminate in a certain + inexpressible purity of taste, and a cleanliness of detail that seemed + actually brilliant, had not the folding-doors allowed a glimpse of a + plainer apartment, with fencing-foils and boxing-gloves ranged on the + wall, and a cricket-bat resting carelessly in the corner. These gave a + redeeming air of manliness to the rooms; but it was the manliness of a + boy,—half-girl, if you please, in the purity of thought that + pervaded one room, all boy in the playful pursuits that were made manifest + in the other. Simple, however, as this abode really was, poor Beck had + never been admitted to the sight of anything half so fine. He stood at the + door for a moment, and stared about him, bewildered and dazzled. But his + natural torpor to things that concerned him not soon brought to him the + same stoicism that philosophy gives the strong; and after the first + surprise, his eye quietly settled on his employer. St. John rose eagerly + from the sofa, on which he had been contemplating the starlit treetops of + Chesterfield Gardens,— + </p> + <p> + “Well, well?” said Percival. + </p> + <p> + “Hold Brompton,” said Beck, with a brevity of word and clearness of + perception worthy a Spartan. + </p> + <p> + “Old Brompton?” repeated Percival, thinking the reply the most natural in + the world. + </p> + <p> + “In a big ‘ous by hisself,” continued Beck, “with a ‘igh vall in front.” + </p> + <p> + “You would know it again?” + </p> + <p> + “In course; he’s so wery peculiar.” + </p> + <p> + “He,—who?” + </p> + <p> + “Vy, the ‘ous. The young lady got out, and the hold folks driv back. I did + not go arter them!” and Beck looked sly. + </p> + <p> + “So! I must find out the name.” + </p> + <p> + “I axed at the public,” said Beck, proud of his diplomacy. “They keeps a + sarvant vot takes half a pint at her meals. The young lady’s mabe a + foriner.” + </p> + <p> + “A foreigner! Then she lives there with her mother?” + </p> + <p> + “So they s’pose at the public.” + </p> + <p> + “And the name?” + </p> + <p> + Beck shook his head. “‘T is a French ‘un, your honour; but the sarvant’s + is Martha.” + </p> + <p> + “You must meet me at Brompton, near the turnpike, tomorrow, and show me + the house.” + </p> + <p> + “Vy, I’s in bizness all day, please your honour.” + </p> + <p> + “In business?”’ + </p> + <p> + “I’s the place of the crossing,” said Beck, with much dignity; “but arter + eight I goes vere I likes.” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow evening, then, at half-past eight, by the turnpike.” + </p> + <p> + Beck pulled his forelock assentingly. + </p> + <p> + “There’s the sovereign I promised you, my poor fellow; much good may it do + you. Perhaps you have some father or mother whose heart it will glad.” + </p> + <p> + “I never had no such thing,” replied Beck, turning the coin in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Well, don’t spend it in drink.” + </p> + <p> + “I never drinks nothing but svipes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Percival, laughingly, “what, my good friend, will you ever do + with your money?” + </p> + <p> + Beck put his finger to his nose, sunk his voice into a whisper, and + replied solemnly: “I ‘as a mattris.” + </p> + <p> + “A mistress,” said Percival. “Oh, a sweetheart. Well, but if she’s a good + girl, and loves you, she’ll not let you spend your money on her.” + </p> + <p> + “I haint such a ninny as that,” said Beck, with majestic contempt. “I + ‘spises the flat that is done brown by the blowens. I ‘as a mattris.” + </p> + <p> + “A mattress! a mattress! Well, what has that to do with the money?” + </p> + <p> + “Vy, I lines it.” + </p> + <p> + Percival looked puzzled. “Oh,” said he, after a thoughtful pause, and in a + tone of considerable compassion, “I understand: you sew your money in your + mattress. My poor, poor lad, you can do better than that! There are the + savings banks.” + </p> + <p> + Beck looked frightened. “I ‘opes your honour von’t tell no vun. I ‘opes no + vun von’t go for to put my tin vere I shall know nothing vatsomever about + it. Now, I knows vere it is, and I lays on it.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you sleep more soundly when you lie on your treasure?” + </p> + <p> + “No. It’s hodd,” said Beck, musingly, “but the more I lines it, the vorse + I sleeps.” + </p> + <p> + Percival laughed, but there was melancholy in his laughter; something in + the forlorn, benighted, fatherless, squalid miser went to the core of his + open, generous heart. + </p> + <p> + “Do you ever read your Bible,” said he, after a pause, “or even the + newspaper?” + </p> + <p> + “I does not read nothing; cos vy? I haint been made a scholard, like swell + Tim, as was lagged for a forgery.” + </p> + <p> + “You go to church on a Sunday?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I ‘as a weekly hingagement at the New Road.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “To see arter the gig of a gemman vot comes from ‘Igate.” + </p> + <p> + Percival lifted his brilliant eyes, and they were moistened with a + heavenly dew, on the dull face of his fellow-creature. Beck made a scrape, + looked round, shambled back to the door, and ran home, through the + lamp-lit streets of the great mart of the Christian universe, to sew the + gold in his mattress. + </p> + <p> + <a name="Blink2HCH0013" id="Blink2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. EARLY TRAINING FOR AN UPRIGHT GENTLEMAN. + </h2> + <p> + Percival St. John had been brought up at home under the eye of his mother + and the care of an excellent man who had been tutor to himself and his + brothers. The tutor was not much of a classical scholar, for in great + measure he had educated himself; and he who does so, usually lacks the + polish and brilliancy of one whose footsteps have been led early to the + Temple of the Muses. In fact, Captain Greville was a gallant soldier, with + whom Vernon St. John had been acquainted in his own brief military career, + and whom circumstances had so reduced in life as to compel him to sell his + commission and live as he could. He had always been known in his regiment + as a reading man, and his authority looked up to in all the disputes as to + history and dates, and literary anecdotes, which might occur at the + mess-table. Vernon considered him the most learned man of his + acquaintance; and when, accidentally meeting him in London, he learned his + fallen fortunes, he congratulated himself on a very brilliant idea when he + suggested that Captain Greville should assist him in the education of his + boys and the management of his estate. At first, all that Greville + modestly undertook, with respect to the former, and, indeed, was expected + to do, was to prepare the young gentlemen for Eton, to which Vernon, with + the natural predilection of an Eton man, destined his sons. But the sickly + constitutions of the two elder justified Lady Mary in her opposition to a + public school; and Percival conceived early so strong an affection for a + sailor’s life that the father’s intentions were frustrated. The two elder + continued their education at home, and Percival, at an earlier age than + usual, went to sea. The last was fortunate enough to have for his captain + one of that new race of naval officers who, well educated and + accomplished, form a notable contrast to the old heroes of Smollett. + Percival, however, had not been long in the service before the deaths of + his two elder brothers, preceded by that of his father, made him the head + of his ancient house, and the sole prop of his mother’s earthly hopes. He + conquered with a generous effort the passion for his noble profession, + which service had but confirmed, and returned home with his fresh, + childlike nature uncorrupted, his constitution strengthened, his lively + and impressionable mind braced by the experience of danger and the habits + of duty, and quietly resumed his reading under Captain Greville, who moved + from the Hall to a small house in the village. + </p> + <p> + Now, the education he had received, from first to last, was less adapted + prematurely to quicken his intellect and excite his imagination than to + warm his heart and elevate, while it chastened, his moral qualities; for + in Lady Mary there was, amidst singular sweetness of temper, a high cast + of character and thought. She was not what is commonly called clever, and + her experience of the world was limited, compared to that of most women of + similar rank who pass their lives in the vast theatre of London. But she + became superior by a certain single-heartedness which made truth so + habitual to her that the light in which she lived rendered all objects + around her clear. One who is always true in the great duties of life is + nearly always wise. And Vernon, when he had fairly buried his faults, had + felt a noble shame for the excesses into which they had led him. Gradually + more and more wedded to his home, he dropped his old companions. He set + grave guard on his talk (his habits now required no guard), lest any of + the ancient levity should taint the ears of his children. Nothing is more + common in parents than their desire that their children should escape + their faults. We scarcely know ourselves till we have children; and then, + if we love them duly, we look narrowly into failings that become vices, + when they serve as examples to the young. + </p> + <p> + The inborn gentleman, with the native courage and spirit and horror of + trick and falsehood which belong to that chivalrous abstraction, survived + almost alone in Vernon St. John; and his boys sprang up in the atmosphere + of generous sentiments and transparent truth. The tutor was in harmony + with the parents,—a soldier every inch of him; not a mere + disciplinarian, yet with a profound sense of duty, and a knowledge that + duty is to be found in attention to details. In inculcating the habit of + subordination, so graceful to the young, he knew how to make himself + beloved, and what is harder still, to be understood. The soul of this poor + soldier was white and unstained, as the arms of a maiden knight; it was + full of suppressed but lofty enthusiasm. He had been ill used, whether by + Fate or the Horse Guards; his career had been a failure; but he was as + loyal as if his hand held the field-marshal’s truncheon, and the garter + bound his knee. He was above all querulous discontent. From him, no less + than from his parents, Percival caught, not only a spirit of honour worthy + the antiqua fides of the poets, but that peculiar cleanliness of thought, + if the expression may be used, which belongs to the ideal of youthful + chivalry. In mere booklearning, Percival, as may be supposed, was not very + extensively read; but his mind, if not largely stored, had a certain unity + of culture, which gave it stability and individualized its operations. + Travels, voyages, narratives of heroic adventure, biographies of great + men, had made the favourite pasture of his enthusiasm. To this was added + the more stirring, and, perhaps, the more genuine order of poets who make + you feel and glow, rather than doubt and ponder. He knew at least enough + of Greek to enjoy old Homer; and if he could have come but ill through a + college examination into Aeschylus and Sophocles, he had dwelt with fresh + delight on the rushing storm of spears in the “Seven before Thebes,” and + wept over the heroic calamities of Antigone. In science, he was no adept; + but his clear good sense and quick appreciation of positive truths had led + him easily through the elementary mathematics, and his somewhat martial + spirit had made him delight in the old captain’s lectures on military + tactics. Had he remained in the navy, Percival St. John would doubtless + have been distinguished. His talents fitted him for straightforward, manly + action; and he had a generous desire of distinction, vague, perhaps, the + moment he was taken from his profession, and curbed by his diffidence in + himself and his sense of deficiencies in the ordinary routine of purely + classical education. Still, he had in him all the elements of a true man,—a + man to go through life with a firm step and a clear conscience and a + gallant hope. Such a man may not win fame,—that is an accident; but + he must occupy no despicable place in the movement of the world. + </p> + <p> + It was at first intended to send Percival to Oxford; but for some reason + or other that design was abandoned. Perhaps Lady Mary, over cautious, as + mothers left alone sometimes are, feared the contagion to which a young + man of brilliant expectations and no studious turn is necessarily exposed + in all places of miscellaneous resort. So Percival was sent abroad for two + years, under the guardianship of Captain Greville. On his return, at the + age of nineteen, the great world lay before him, and he longed ardently to + enter. For a year Lady Mary’s fears and fond anxieties detained him at + Laughton; but though his great tenderness for his mother withheld Percival + from opposing her wishes by his own, this interval of inaction affected + visibly his health and spirits. Captain Greville, a man of the world, saw + the cause sooner than Lady Mary, and one morning, earlier than usual, he + walked up to the Hall. + </p> + <p> + The captain, with all his deference to the sex, was a plain man enough + when business was to be done. Like his great commander, he came to the + point in a few words. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Lady Mary, our boy must go to London,—we are killing him + here.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Greville!” cried Lady Mary, turning pale and putting aside her + embroidery,—“killing him?” + </p> + <p> + “Killing the man in him. I don’t mean to alarm you; I dare say his lungs + are sound enough, and that his heart would bear the stethoscope to the + satisfaction of the College of Surgeons. But, my dear ma’am, Percival is + to be a man; it is the man you are killing by keeping him tied to your + apron-string.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Greville, I am sure you don’t wish to wound me, but—” + </p> + <p> + “I beg ten thousand pardons. I am rough, but truth is rough sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not for my sake,” said the mother, warmly, and with tears in her + eyes, “that I have wished him to be here. If he is dull, can we not fill + the house for him?” + </p> + <p> + “Fill a thimble, my dear Lady Mary. Percival should have a plunge in the + ocean.” + </p> + <p> + “But he is so young yet,—that horrid London; such temptations,—fatherless, + too!” + </p> + <p> + “I have no fear of the result if Percival goes now, while his principles + are strong and his imagination is not inflamed; but if we keep him here + much longer against his bent, he will learn to brood and to muse, write + bad poetry perhaps, and think the world withheld from him a thousand times + more delightful than it is. This very dread of temptation will provoke his + curiosity, irritate his fancy, make him imagine the temptation must be a + very delightful thing. For the first time in my life, ma’am, I have caught + him sighing over fashionable novels, and subscribing to the Southampton + Circulating Library. Take my word for it, it is time that Percival should + begin life, and swim without corks.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Mary had a profound confidence in Greville’s judgment and affection + for Percival, and, like a sensible woman, she was aware of her own + weakness. She remained silent for a few moments, and then said, with an + effort,— + </p> + <p> + “You know how hateful London is to me now,—how unfit I am to return + to the hollow forms of its society; still, if you think it right, I will + take a house for the season, and Percival can still be under our eye.” + </p> + <p> + “No, ma’am,—pardon me,—that will be the surest way to make him + either discontented or hypocritical. A young man of his prospects and + temper can hardly be expected to chime in with all our sober, + old-fashioned habits. You will impose on him—if he is to conform to + our hours and notions and quiet set—a thousand irksome restraints; + and what will be the consequence? In a year he will be of age, and can + throw us off altogether, if he pleases. I know the boy; don’t seem to + distrust him,—he may be trusted. You place the true restraint on + temptation when you say to him: ‘We confide to you our dearest treasure,—your + honour, your morals, your conscience, yourself!’” + </p> + <p> + “But at least you will go with him, if it must be so,” said Lady Mary, + after a few timid arguments, from which, one by one, she was driven. + </p> + <p> + “I! What for? To be a jest of the young puppies he must know; to make him + ashamed of himself and me,—himself as a milksop, and me as a dry + nurse?” + </p> + <p> + “But this was not so abroad.” + </p> + <p> + “Abroad, ma’am, I gave him full swing I promise you; and when we went + abroad he was two years younger.” + </p> + <p> + “But he is a mere child still.” + </p> + <p> + “Child, Lady Mary! At his age I had gone through two sieges. There are + younger faces than his at a mess-room. Come, come! I know what you fear,—he + may commit some follies; very likely. He may be taken in, and lose some + money,—he can afford it, and he will get experience in return. Vices + he has none. I have seen him,—ay, with the vicious. Send him out + against the world like a saint of old, with his Bible in his hand, and no + spot on his robe. Let him see fairly what is, not stay here to dream of + what is not. And when he’s of age, ma’am, we must get him an object, a + pursuit; start him for the county, and make him serve the State. He will + understand that business pretty well. Tush! tush! what is there to cry + at?” + </p> + <p> + The captain prevailed. We don’t say that his advice would have been + equally judicious for all youths of Percival’s age; but he knew well the + nature to which he confided; he knew well how strong was that young heart + in its healthful simplicity and instinctive rectitude; and he appreciated + his manliness not too highly when he felt that all evident props and aids + would be but irritating tokens of distrust. + </p> + <p> + And thus, armed only with letters of introduction, his mother’s tearful + admonitions, and Greville’s experienced warnings, Percival St. John was + launched into London life. After the first month or so, Greville came up + to visit him, do him sundry kind, invisible offices amongst his old + friends, help him to equip his apartments, and mount his stud; and wholly + satisfied with the result of his experiment, returned in high spirits, + with flattering reports, to the anxious mother. + </p> + <p> + But, indeed, the tone of Percival’s letters would have been sufficient to + allay even maternal anxiety. He did not write, as sons are apt to do, + short excuses for not writing more at length, unsatisfactory compressions + of details (exciting worlds of conjecture) into a hurried sentence. Frank + and overflowing, those delightful epistles gave accounts fresh from the + first impressions of all he saw and did. There was a racy, wholesome gusto + in his enjoyment of novelty and independence. His balls and his dinners + and his cricket at Lord’s, his partners and his companions, his general + gayety, his occasional ennui, furnished ample materials to one who felt he + was corresponding with another heart, and had nothing to fear or to + conceal. + </p> + <p> + But about two months before this portion of our narrative opens with the + coronation, Lady Mary’s favourite sister, who had never married, and who, + by the death of her parents, was left alone in the worse than widowhood of + an old maid, had been ordered to Pisa for a complaint that betrayed + pulmonary symptoms; and Lady Mary, with her usual unselfishness, conquered + both her aversion to movement and her wish to be in reach of her son, to + accompany abroad this beloved and solitary relative. Captain Greville was + pressed into service as their joint cavalier. And thus Percival’s habitual + intercourse with his two principal correspondents received a temporary + check. + </p> + <p> + <a name="Blink2HCH0014" id="Blink2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. JOHN ARDWORTH. + </h2> + <p> + At noon the next day Beck, restored to his grandeur, was at the helm of + his state; Percival was vainly trying to be amused by the talk of two or + three loungers who did him the honour to smoke a cigar in his rooms; and + John Ardworth sat in his dingy cell in Gray’s Inn, with a pile of law + books on the table, and the daily newspapers carpeting a footstool of + Hansard’s Debates upon the floor,—no unusual combination of studies + amongst the poorer and more ardent students of the law, who often owe + their earliest, nor perhaps their least noble, earnings to employment in + the empire of the Press. By the power of a mind habituated to labour, and + backed by a frame of remarkable strength and endurance, Ardworth grappled + with his arid studies not the less manfully for a night mainly spent in a + printer’s office, and stinted to less than four hours’ actual sleep. But + that sleep was profound and refreshing as a peasant’s. The nights thus + devoted to the Press (he was employed in the sub-editing of a daily + journal), the mornings to the law, he kept distinct the two separate + callings with a stern subdivision of labour which in itself proved the + vigour of his energy and the resolution of his will. Early compelled to + shift for himself and carve out his own way, he had obtained a small + fellowship at the small college in which he had passed his academic + career. Previous to his arrival in London, by contributions to political + periodicals and a high reputation at that noble debating society in + Cambridge which has trained some of the most eminent of living public men + [Amongst those whom the “Union” almost contemporaneously prepared for + public life, and whose distinction has kept the promise of their youth, we + may mention the eminent barristers, Messrs. Austin and Cockburn; and + amongst statesmen, Lord Grey, Mr. C. Buller, Mr. Charles Villiers, and Mr. + Macaulay. Nor ought we to forget those brilliant competitors for the + prizes of the University, Dr. Kennedy (now head-master of Shrewsbury + School) and the late Winthrop M. Praed.], he had established a name which + was immediately useful to him in obtaining employment on the Press. Like + most young men of practical ability, he was an eager politician. The + popular passion of the day kindled his enthusiasm and stirred the depths + of his soul with magnificent, though exaggerated, hopes in the destiny of + his race. He identified himself with the people; his stout heart beat loud + in their stormy cause. His compositions, if they wanted that knowledge of + men, that subtle comprehension of the true state of parties, that happy + temperance in which the crowning wisdom of statesmen must consist,—qualities + which experience alone can give,—excited considerable attention by + their bold eloquence and hardy logic. They were suited to the time. But + John Ardworth had that solidity of understanding which betokens more than + talent, and which is the usual substratum of genius. He would not depend + alone on the precarious and often unhonoured toils of polemical literature + for that distinction on which he had fixed his steadfast heart. Patiently + he plodded on through the formal drudgeries of his new profession, + lighting up dulness by his own acute comprehension, weaving complexities + into simple system by the grasp of an intellect inured to generalize, and + learning to love even what was most distasteful, by the sense of + difficulty overcome, and the clearer vision which every step through the + mists and up the hill gave of the land beyond. Of what the superficial are + apt to consider genius, John Ardworth had but little. He had some + imagination (for a true thinker is never without that), but he had a very + slight share of fancy. He did not flirt with the Muses; on the granite of + his mind few flowers could spring. His style, rushing and earnest, + admitted at times of a humour not without delicacy,—though less + delicate than forcible and deep,—but it was little adorned with wit, + and still less with poetry. Yet Ardworth had genius, and genius ample and + magnificent. There was genius in that industrious energy so patient in the + conquest of detail, so triumphant in the perception of results. There was + genius in that kindly sympathy with mankind; genius in that stubborn + determination to succeed; genius in that vivid comprehension of affairs, + and the large interests of the world; genius fed in the labours of the + closet, and evinced the instant he was brought into contact with men,—evinced + in readiness of thought, grasp of memory, even in a rough, imperious + nature, which showed him born to speak strong truths, and in their name to + struggle and command. + </p> + <p> + Rough was this man often in his exterior, though really gentle and + kind-hearted. John Ardworth had sacrificed to no Graces; he would have + thrown Lord Chesterfield into a fever. Not that he was ever vulgar, for + vulgarity implies affectation of refinement; but he talked loud and + laughed loud if the whim seized him, and rubbed his great hands with a + boyish heartiness of glee if he discomfited an adversary in argument. Or, + sometimes, he would sit abstracted and moody, and answer briefly and + boorishly those who interrupted him. Young men were mostly afraid of him, + though he wanted but fame to have a set of admiring disciples. Old men + censured his presumption and recoiled from the novelty of his ideas. Women + alone liked and appreciated him, as, with their finer insight into + character, they generally do what is honest and sterling. Some strange + failings, too, had John Ardworth,—some of the usual vagaries and + contradictions of clever men. As a system, he was rigidly abstemious. For + days together he would drink nothing but water, eat nothing but bread, or + hard biscuit, or a couple of eggs; then, having wound up some allotted + portion of work, Ardworth would indulge what he called a self-saturnalia,—would + stride off with old college friends to an inn in one of the suburbs, and + spend, as he said triumphantly, “a day of blessed debauch!” Innocent + enough, for the most part, the debauch was, consisting in cracking jests, + stringing puns, a fish dinner, perhaps, and an extra bottle or two of + fiery port. Sometimes this jollity, which was always loud and uproarious, + found its scene in one of the cider-cellars or midnight taverns; but + Ardworth’s labours on the Press made that latter dissipation extremely + rare. These relaxations were always succeeded by a mien more than usually + grave, a manner more than usually curt and ungracious, an application more + than ever rigorous and intense. John Ardworth was not a good-tempered man, + but he was the best-natured man that ever breathed. He was, like all + ambitious persons, very much occupied with self; and yet it would have + been a ludicrous misapplication of words to call him selfish. Even the + desire of fame which absorbed him was but a part of benevolence,—a + desire to promote justice and to serve his kind. + </p> + <p> + John Ardworth’s shaggy brows were bent over his open volumes when his + clerk entered noiselessly and placed on his table a letter which the + twopenny-postman had just delivered. With an impatient shrug of the + shoulders, Ardworth glanced towards the superscription; but his eye became + earnest and his interest aroused as he recognized the hand. “Again!” he + muttered. “What mystery is this? Who can feel such interest in my fate?” + He broke the seal and read as follows:— + </p> + <p> + Do you neglect my advice, or have you begun to act upon it? Are you + contented only with the slow process of mechanical application, or will + you make a triumphant effort to abridge your apprenticeship and emerge at + once into fame and power? I repeat that you fritter away your talents and + your opportunities upon this miserable task-work on a journal. I am + impatient for you. Come forward yourself, put your force and your + knowledge into some work of which the world may know the author. Day after + day I am examining into your destiny, and day after day I believe more and + more that you are not fated for the tedious drudgery to which you doom + your youth. I would have you great, but in the senate, not a wretched + casuist at the Bar. Appear in public as an individual authority, not one + of that nameless troop of shadows contemned while dreaded as the Press. + Write for renown. Go into the world, and make friends. Soften your rugged + bearing. Lift yourself above that herd whom you call “the people.” What if + you are born of the noble class! What if your career is as gentleman, not + plebeian Want not for money. Use what I send you as the young and the + well-born should use it; or let it at least gain you a respite from toils + for bread, and support you in your struggle to emancipate yourself from + obscurity into fame. + </p> + <p> + YOUR UNKNOWN FRIEND + </p> + <p> + A bank-note for 100 pounds dropped from the envelope as Ardworth silently + replaced the letter on the table. + </p> + <p> + Thrice before had he received communications in the same handwriting, and + much to the same effect. Certainly, to a mind of less strength there would + have been something very unsettling in those vague hints of a station + higher than he owned, of a future at variance with the toilsome lot he had + drawn from the urn; but after a single glance over his lone position in + all its bearings and probable expectations, Ardworth’s steady sense shook + off the slight disturbance such misty vaticinations had effected. His + mother’s family was indeed unknown to him, he was even ignorant of her + maiden name. But that very obscurity seemed unfavourable to much hope from + such a quarter. The connections with the rich and well-born are seldom + left obscure. From his father’s family he had not one expectation. More + had he been moved by exhortation now generally repeated, but in a previous + letter more precisely detailed; namely, to appeal to the reading public in + his acknowledged person, and by some striking and original work. This idea + he had often contemplated and revolved; but partly the necessity of + keeping pace with the many exigencies of the hour had deterred him, and + partly also the conviction of his sober judgment that a man does himself + no good at the Bar even by the most brilliant distinction gained in + discursive fields. He had the natural yearning of the Restless Genius; and + the Patient Genius (higher power of the two) had suppressed the longing. + Still, so far, the whispers of his correspondent tempted and aroused. But + hitherto he had sought to persuade himself that the communications thus + strangely forced on him arose perhaps from idle motives,—a jest, it + might be, of one of his old college friends, or at best the vain + enthusiasm of some more credulous admirer. But the enclosure now sent to + him forbade either of these suppositions. Who that he knew could afford so + costly a jest or so extravagant a tribute? He was perplexed, and with his + perplexity was mixed a kind of fear. Plain, earnest, unromantic in the + common acceptation of the word, the mystery of this intermeddling with his + fate, this arrogation of the license to spy, the right to counsel, and the + privilege to bestow, gave him the uneasiness the bravest men may feel at + noises in the dark. That day he could apply no more, he could not settle + back to his Law Reports. He took two or three unquiet turns up and down + his smoke-dried cell, then locked up the letter and enclosure, seized his + hat, and strode, with his usual lusty, swinging strides, into the open + air. + </p> + <p> + But still the letter haunted him. “And if,” he said almost audibly,—“if + I were the heir to some higher station, why then I might have a heart like + idle men; and Helen, beloved Helen—” He paused, sighed, shook his + rough head, shaggy with neglected curls, and added: “As if even then I + could steal myself into a girl’s good graces! Man’s esteem I may command, + though poor; woman’s love could I win, though rich? Pooh! pooh! every wood + does not make a Mercury; and faith, the wood I am made of will scarcely + cut up into a lover.” + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, though thus soliloquizing, Ardworth mechanically bent his + way towards Brompton, and halted, half-ashamed of himself, at the house + where Helen lodged with her aunt. It was a building that stood apart from + all the cottages and villas of that charming suburb, half-way down a + narrow lane, and enclosed by high, melancholy walls, deep set in which a + small door, with the paint blistered and weather-stained, gave + unfrequented entrance to the demesne. A woman servant of middle age and + starched, puritanical appearance answered the loud ring of the bell, and + Ardworth seemed a privileged visitor, for she asked him no question as, + with a slight nod and a smileless, stupid expression in a face otherwise + comely, she led the way across a paved path, much weed-grown, to the + house. That house itself had somewhat of a stern and sad exterior. It was + not ancient, yet it looked old from shabbiness and neglect. The vine, + loosened from the rusty nails, trailed rankly against the wall, and fell + in crawling branches over the ground. The house had once been whitewashed; + but the colour, worn off in great patches, distained with damp, struggled + here and there with the dingy, chipped bricks beneath. There was no + peculiar want of what is called “tenantable repair;” the windows were + whole, and doubtless the roof sheltered from the rain. But the woodwork + that encased the panes was decayed, and houseleek covered the tiles. + Altogether, there was that forlorn and cheerless aspect about the place + which chills the visitor, he defines not why. And Ardworth steadied his + usual careless step, and crept, as if timidly, up the creaking stairs. + </p> + <p> + On entering the drawing-room, it seemed at first deserted; but the eye, + searching round, perceived something stir in the recess of a huge chair + set by the fireless hearth. And from amidst a mass of coverings a pale + face emerged, and a thin hand waved its welcome to the visitor. + </p> + <p> + Ardworth approached, pressed the hand, and drew a seat near to the + sufferer’s. + </p> + <p> + “You are better, I hope?” he said cordially, and yet in a tone of more + respect than was often perceptible in his deep, blunt voice. + </p> + <p> + “I am always the same,” was the quiet answer; “come nearer still. Your + visits cheer me.” + </p> + <p> + And as these last words were said, Madame Dalibard raised herself from her + recumbent posture and gazed long upon Ardworth’s face of power and front + of thought. “You overfatigue yourself, my poor kinsman,” she said, with a + certain tenderness; “you look already too old for your young years.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s no disadvantage at the Bar.” + </p> + <p> + “Is the Bar your means, or your end?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Madame Dalibard, it is my profession.” + </p> + <p> + “No, your profession is to rise. John Ardworth,” and the low voice swelled + in its volume, “you are bold, able, and aspiring; for this, I love you,—love + you almost—almost as a mother. Your fate,” she continued hurriedly, + “interests me; your energies inspire me with admiration. Often I sit here + for hours, musing over your destiny to be, so that at times I may almost + say that in your life I live.” + </p> + <p> + Ardworth looked embarrassed, and with an awkward attempt at compliment he + began, hesitatingly: “I should think too highly of myself if I could + really believe that you—” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” interrupted Madame Dalibard,—“we have had many + conversations upon grave and subtle matters; we have disputed on the + secret mysteries of the human mind; we have compared our several + experiences of outward life and the mechanism of the social world,—tell + me, then, and frankly, what do you think of me? Do you regard me merely as + your sex is apt to regard the woman who aspires to equal men,—a + thing of borrowed phrases and unsound ideas, feeble to guide, and + unskilled to teach; or do you recognize in this miserable body a mind of + force not unworthy yours, ruled by an experience larger than your own?” + </p> + <p> + “I think of you,” answered Ardworth, frankly, “as the most remarkable + woman I have ever met. Yet—do not be angry—I do not like to + yield to the influence which you gain over me when we meet. It disturbs my + convictions, it disquiets my reason; I do not settle back to my life so + easily after your breath has passed over it.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” said Lucretia, with a solemn sadness in her voice, “that + influence is but the natural power which cold maturity exercises on ardent + youth. It is my mournful ad vantage over you that disquiets your happy + calm. It is my experience that unsettles the fallacies which you name + ‘convictions.’ Let this pass. I asked your opinion of me, because I wished + to place at your service all that knowledge of life which I possess. In + proportion as you esteem me you will accept or reject my counsels.” + </p> + <p> + “I have benefited by them already. It is the tone that you advised me to + assume that gave me an importance I had not before with that old formalist + whose paper I serve, and whose prejudices I shock; it is to your + criticisms that I owe the more practical turn of my writings, and the + greater hold they have taken on the public.” + </p> + <p> + “Trifles indeed, these,” said Madame Dalibard, with a half smile. “Let + them at least induce you to listen to me if I propose to make your path + more pleasant, yet your ascent more rapid.” + </p> + <p> + Ardworth knit his brows, and his countenance assumed an expression of + doubt and curiosity. However, he only replied, with a blunt laugh,— + </p> + <p> + “You must be wise indeed if you have discovered a royal road to + distinction. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, who can tell how hard it is to climb The steep where Fame’s proud + temple shines afar!’ + </p> + <p> + A more sensible exclamation than poets usually preface with their whining + ‘Ahs’ and ‘Ohs!’” + </p> + <p> + “What we are is nothing,” pursued Madame Dalibard; “what we seem is much.” + </p> + <p> + Ardworth thrust his hands into his pockets and shook his head. The wise + woman continued, unheeding his dissent from her premises,— + </p> + <p> + “Everything you are taught to value has a likeness, and it is that + likeness which the world values. Take a man out of the streets, poor and + ragged, what will the world do with him? Send him to the workhouse, if not + to the jail. Ask a great painter to take that man’s portrait,—rags, + squalor, and all,—and kings will bid for the picture. You would + thrust the man from your doors, you would place the portrait in your + palaces. It is the same with qualities; the portrait is worth more than + the truth. What is virtue without character? But a man without virtue may + thrive on a character! What is genius without success? But how often you + bow to success without genius! John Ardworth, possess yourself of the + portraits,—win the character; seize the success.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” exclaimed Ardworth, rudely, “this is horrible!” + </p> + <p> + “Horrible it may be,” said Madame Dalibard, gently, and feeling, perhaps, + that she had gone too far; “but it is the world’s judgment. Seem, then, as + well as be. You have virtue, as I believe. Well, wrap yourself in it—in + your closet. Go into the world, and earn character. If you have genius, + let it comfort you. Rush into the crowd, and get success.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” cried Ardworth; “I recognize you. How could I be so blind? It is + you who have written to me, and in the same strain; you have robbed + yourself,—you, poor sufferer,—to throw extravagance into these + strong hands. And why? What am I to you?” An expression of actual fondness + softened Lucretia’s face as she looked up at him and replied: “I will tell + you hereafter what you are to me. First, I confess that it is I whose + letters have perplexed, perhaps offended you. The sum that I sent I do not + miss. I have more,—will ever have more at your command; never fear. + Yes, I wish you to go into the world, not as a dependant, but as an equal + to the world’s favourites. I wish you to know more of men than mere + law-books teach you. I wish you to be in men’s mouths, create a circle + that shall talk of young Ardworth; that talk would travel to those who can + advance your career. The very possession of money in certain stages of + life gives assurance to the manner, gives attraction to the address.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Ardworth, “all this is very well for some favourite of birth + and fortune; but for me—Yet speak, and plainly. You throw out hints + that I am what I know not, but something less dependent on his nerves and + his brain than is plain John Ardworth. What is it you mean?” + </p> + <p> + Madame Dalibard bent her face over her breast, and rocking herself in her + chair, seemed to muse for some moments before she answered. + </p> + <p> + “When I first came to England, some months ago, I desired naturally to + learn all the particulars of my family and kindred, from which my long + residence abroad had estranged me. John Walter Ardworth was related to my + half-sister; to me he was but a mere connection. However, I knew something + of his history, yet I did not know that he had a son. Shortly before I + came to England, I learned that one who passed for his son had been + brought up by Mr. Fielden, and from Mr. Fielden I have since learned all + the grounds for that belief from which you take the name of Ardworth.” + </p> + <p> + Lucretia paused a moment; and after a glance at the impatient, wondering, + and eager countenance that bent intent upon her, she resumed: + </p> + <p> + “Your reputed father was, you are doubtless aware, of reckless and + extravagant habits. He had been put into the army by my uncle, and he + entered the profession with the careless buoyancy of his sanguine nature. + I remember those days,—that day! Well, to return—where was I?—Walter + Ardworth had the folly to entertain strong notions of politics. He dreamed + of being a soldier, and yet persuaded himself to be a republican. His + notions, so hateful in his profession, got wind; he disguised nothing, he + neglected the portraits of things,—appearances. He excited the + rancour of his commanding officer; for politics then, more even than now, + were implacable ministrants to hate. Occasion presented itself. During the + short Peace of Amiens he had been recalled. He had to head a detachment of + soldiers against some mob,—in Ireland, I believe; he did not fire on + the mob, according to orders,—so, at least, it was said. John Walter + Ardworth was tried by a court-martial, and broke! But you know all this, + perhaps?” + </p> + <p> + “My poor father! Only in part; I knew that he had been dismissed the army,—I + believed unjustly. He was a soldier, and yet he dared to think for himself + and be humane!” + </p> + <p> + “But my uncle had left him a legacy; it brought no blessing,—none of + that old man’s gold did. Where are they all now,—Dalibard, Susan, + and her fair-faced husband,—where? Vernon is in his grave,—but + one son of many left! Gabriel Varney lives, it is true, and I! But that + gold,—yea, in our hands there was a curse on it! Walter Ardworth had + his legacy. His nature was gay; if disgraced in his profession, he found + men to pity and praise him,—Fools of Party like himself. He lived + joyously, drank or gamed, or lent or borrowed,—what matters the + wherefore? He was in debt; he lived at last a wretched, shifting, fugitive + life, snatching bread where he could, with the bailiffs at his heels. + Then, for a short time, we met again.” + </p> + <p> + Lucretia’s brow grew black as night as her voice dropped at that last + sentence, and it was with a start that she continued,— + </p> + <p> + “In the midst of this hunted existence, Walter Ardworth appeared, late one + night, at Mr. Fielden’s with an infant. He seemed—so says Mr. + Fielden—ill, worn, and haggard. He entered into no explanations with + respect to the child that accompanied him, and retired at once to rest. + What follows, Mr. Fielden, at my request, has noted down. Read, and see + what claim you have to the honourable parentage so vaguely ascribed to + you.” + </p> + <p> + As she spoke, Madame Dalibard opened a box on her table, drew forth a + paper in Fielden’s writing, and placed it in Ardworth’s hand. After some + preliminary statement of the writer’s intimacy with the elder Ardworth, + and the appearance of the latter at his house, as related by Madame + Dalibard, etc., the document went on thus:— + </p> + <p> + The next day, when my poor guest was still in bed, my servant Hannah came + to advise me that two persons were without, waiting to see me. As is my + wont, I bade them be shown in. On their entrance (two rough, + farmer-looking men they were, who I thought might be coming to hire my + little pasture field), I prayed them to speak low, as a sick gentleman was + just overhead. Whereupon, and without saying a word further, the two + strangers made a rush from the room, leaving me dumb with amazement; in a + few moments I heard voices and a scuffle above. I recovered myself, and + thinking robbers had entered my peaceful house, I called out lustily, when + Hannah came in, and we both, taking courage, went upstairs, and found that + poor Walter was in the hands of these supposed robbers, who in truth were + but bailiffs. They would not trust him out of their sight for a moment. + However, he took it more pleasantly than I could have supposed possible; + prayed me in a whisper to take care of the child, and I should soon hear + from him again. In less than an hour he was gone. Two days afterwards I + received from him a hurried letter, without address, of which this is a + copy:— + </p> + <p> + DEAR FRIEND,—I slipped from the bailiffs, and here I am in a safe + little tavern in sight of the sea! Mother Country is a very bad parent to + me! Mother Brownrigg herself could scarcely be worse. I shall work out my + passage to some foreign land, and if I can recover my health (sea-air is + bracing), I don’t despair of getting my bread honestly, somehow. If ever I + can pay my debts, I may return. But, meanwhile, my good old tutor, what + will you think of me? You to whom my sole return for so much pains, taken + in vain, is another mouth to feed! And no money to pay for the board! Yet + you’ll not grudge the child a place at your table, will you? No, nor kind, + saving Mrs. Fielden either,—God bless her tender, economical soul! + You know quite enough of me to be sure that I shall very soon either free + you of the boy, or send you something to prevent its being an encumbrance. + I would say, love and pity the child for my sake. But I own I feel—-By + Jove, I must be off; I hear the first signal from the vessel that— + </p> + <p> + Yours in haste, J. W. A. + </p> + <p> + Young Ardworth stopped from the lecture, and sighed heavily. There seemed + to him in this letter worse than a mock gayety,—a certain levity and + recklessness which jarred on his own high principles. And the want of + affection for the child thus abandoned was evident,—not one fond + word. He resumed the statement with a gloomy and disheartened attention. + </p> + <p> + This was all I heard from my poor, erring Walter for more than three + years; but I knew, in spite of his follies, that his heart was sound at + bottom (the son’s eyes brightened here, and he kissed the paper), and the + child was no burden to us; we loved it, not only for Ardworth’s sake, but + for its own, and for charity’s and Christ’s. Ardworth’s second letter was + as follows:— + </p> + <p> + En iterum Crispinus! I am still alive, and getting on in the world,—ay, + and honestly too; I am no longer spending heedlessly; I am saving for my + debts, and I shall live, I trust, to pay off every farthing. First, for my + debt to you I send an order, not signed in my name, but equally valid, on + Messrs. Drummond, for 250 pounds. Repay yourself what the boy has cost. + Let him be educated to get his own living,—if clever, as a scholar + or a lawyer; if dull, as a tradesman. Whatever I may gain, he will have + his own way to make. I ought to tell you the story connected with his + birth; but it is one of pain and shame, and, on reflection, I feel that I + have no right to injure him by affixing to his early birth an opprobrium + of which he himself is guiltless. If ever I return to England, you shall + know all, and by your counsels I will abide. Love to all your happy + family. Your grateful FRIEND AND PUPIL. From this letter I began to + suspect that the poor boy was probably not born in wedlock, and that + Ardworth’s silence arose from his compunction. I conceived it best never + to mention this suspicion to John himself as he grew up. Why should I + afflict him by a doubt from which his own father shrank, and which might + only exist in my own inexperienced and uncharitable interpretation of some + vague words? When John was fourteen, I received from Messrs. Drummond a + further sum of 500 pounds, but without any line from Ardworth, and only to + the effect that Messrs. Drummond were directed by a correspondent in + Calcutta to pay me the said sum on behalf of expenses incurred for the + maintenance of the child left to my charge by John Walter Ardworth. My + young pupil had been two years at the University when I received the + letter of which this is a copy:— + </p> + <p> + “How are you? Still well, still happy? Let me hope so! I have not written + to you, dear old friend, but I have not been forgetful of you; I have + inquired of you through my correspondents, and have learned, from time to + time, such accounts as satisfied my grateful affection for you. I find + that you have given the boy my name. Well, let him bear it,—it is + nothing to boast of such as it became in my person; but, mind, I do not, + therefore, acknowledge him as my son. I wish him to think himself without + parents, without other aid in the career of life than his own industry and + talent—if talent he has. Let him go through the healthful probation + of toil; let him search for and find independence. Till he is of age, 150 + pounds per annum will be paid quarterly to your account for him at Messrs. + Drummond’s. If then, to set him up in any business or profession, a sum of + money be necessary, name the amount by a line, signed A. B., Calcutta, to + the care of Messrs. Drummond, and it will reach and find me disposed to + follow your instructions. But after that time all further supply from me + will cease. Do not suppose, because I send this from India, that I am + laden with rupees; all I can hope to attain is a competence. That boy is + not the only one who has claims to share it. Even, therefore, if I had the + wish to rear him to the extravagant habits that ruined myself, I have not + the power. Yes, let him lean on his own strength. In the letter you send + me, write fully of your family, your sons, and write as to a man who can + perhaps help them in the world, and will be too happy thus in some slight + degree to repay all he owes you. You would smile approvingly if you saw me + now,—a steady, money-getting man, but still yours as ever.” + </p> + <p> + “P.S.—Do not let the boy write to me, nor give him this clew to my + address.” + </p> + <p> + On the receipt of this letter, I wrote fully to Ardworth about the + excellent promise and conduct of his poor neglected son. I told him truly + he was a son any father might be proud of, and rebuked, even to harshness, + Walter’s unseemly tone respecting him. One’s child is one’s child, however + the father may have wronged the mother. To this letter I never received + any answer. When John was of age, and had made himself independent of want + by obtaining a college fellowship, I spoke to him about his prospects. I + told him that his father, though residing abroad and for some reason + keeping himself concealed, had munificently paid hitherto for his + maintenance, and would lay down what might be necessary to start him in + business, or perhaps place him in the army, but that his father might be + better pleased if he could show a love of independence, and henceforth + maintain himself. I knew the boy I spoke to! John thought as I did, and I + never applied for another donation to the elder Ardworth. The allowance + ceased; John since then has maintained himself. I have heard no more from + his father, though I have written often to the address he gave me. I begin + to fear that he is dead. I once went up to town and saw one of the heads + of Messrs. Drummond’s firm, a very polite gentleman, but he could give me + no information, except that he obeyed instructions from a correspondent at + Calcutta,—one Mr. Macfarren. Whereon I wrote to Mr. Macfarren, and + asked him, as I thought very pressingly, to tell me all he knew of poor + Ardworth the elder. He answered shortly that he knew of no such person at + all, and that A. B. was a French merchant, settled in Calcutta, who had + been dead for above two years. I now gave up all hopes of any further + intelligence, and was more convinced than ever that I had acted rightly in + withholding from poor John my correspondence with his father. The lad had + been curious and inquisitive naturally; but when I told him that I thought + it my duty to his father to be so reserved, he forebore to press me. I + have only to add, first, that by all the inquiries I could make of the + surviving members of Walter Ardworth’s family, it seemed their full belief + that he had never been married, and therefore I fear we must conclude that + he had no legitimate children,—which may account for, though it + cannot excuse, his neglect; and secondly, with respect to the sums + received on dear John’s account, I put them all by, capital and interest, + deducting only the expense of his first year at Cambridge (the which I + could not defray without injuring my own children), and it all stands in + his name at Messrs. Drummond’s, vested in the Three per Cents. That I have + not told him of this was by my poor dear wife’s advice; for she said, very + sensibly,—and she was a shrewd woman on money matters,—“If he + knows he has such a large sum all in the lump, who knows but he may grow + idle and extravagant, and spend it at once, like his father before him? + Whereas, some time or other he will want to marry, or need money for some + particular purpose,—then what a blessing it will be!” + </p> + <p> + However, my dear madam, as you know the world better than I do, you can + now do as you please, both as to communicating to John all the information + herein contained as to his parentage, and as to apprising him of the large + sum of which he is lawfully possessed. + </p> + <p> + MATTHEW FIELDEN. + </p> + <p> + P.S.—In justice to poor John Ardworth, and to show that whatever + whim he may have conceived about his own child, he had still a heart kind + enough to remember mine, though Heaven knows I said nothing about them in + my letters, my eldest boy received an offer of an excellent place in a + West India merchant’s house, and has got on to be chief clerk; and my + second son was presented to a living of 117 pounds a year by a gentleman + he never heard of. Though I never traced these good acts to Ardworth, from + whom else could they come? + </p> + <p> + Ardworth put down the paper without a word; and Lucretia, who had watched + him while he read, was struck with the self-control he evinced when he + came to the end of the disclosure. She laid her hand on his and said,— + </p> + <p> + “Courage! you have lost nothing!” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing!” said Ardworth, with a bitter smile. “A father’s love and a + father’s name,—nothing!” + </p> + <p> + “But,” exclaimed Lucretia, “is this man your father? Does a father’s heart + beat in one line of those hard sentences? No, no; it seems to me probable,—it + seems to me almost certain, that you are—” She stopped, and + continued, with a calmer accent, “near to my own blood. I am now in + England, in London, to prosecute the inquiry built upon that hope. If so, + if so, you shall—” Madame Dalibard again stopped abruptly, and there + was something terrible in the very exultation of her countenance. She drew + a long breath, and resumed, with an evident effort at self-command, “If + so, I have a right to the interest I feel for you. Suffer me yet to be + silent as to the grounds of my belief, and—and—love me a + little in the mean while!” + </p> + <p> + Her voice trembled, as if with rushing tears, at these last words, and + there was almost an agony in the tone in which they were said, and in the + gesture of the clasped hands she held out to him. + </p> + <p> + Much moved (amidst all his mingled emotions at the tale thus made known to + him) by the manner and voice of the narrator, Ardworth bent down and + kissed the extended hands. Then he rose abruptly, walked to and fro the + room, muttering to himself, paused opposite the window, threw it open, as + for air, and, indeed, fairly gasped for breath. When he turned round, + however, his face was composed, and folding his arms on his large breast + with a sudden action, he said aloud, and yet rather to himself than to his + listener,— + </p> + <p> + “What matter, after all, by what name men call our fathers? We ourselves + make our own fate! Bastard or noble, not a jot care I. Give me ancestors, + I will not disgrace them; raze from my lot even the very name of father, + and my sons shall have an ancestor in me!” + </p> + <p> + As he thus spoke, there was a rough grandeur in his hard face and the + strong ease of his powerful form. And while thus standing and thus + looking, the door opened, and Varney walked in abruptly. + </p> + <p> + These two men had met occasionally at Madame Dalibard’s, but no intimacy + had been established between them. Varney was formal and distant to + Ardworth, and Ardworth felt a repugnance to Varney. With the instinct of + sound, sterling, weighty natures, he detected at once, and disliked + heartily, that something of gaudy, false, exaggerated, and hollow which + pervaded Gabriel Varney’s talk and manner,—even the trick of his + walk and the cut of his dress. And Ardworth wanted that boyish and + beautiful luxuriance of character which belonged to Percival St. John, + easy to please and to be pleased, and expanding into the warmth of + admiration for all talent and all distinction. For art, if not the + highest, Ardworth cared not a straw; it was nothing to him that Varney + painted and composed, and ran showily through the jargon of literary + babble, or toyed with the puzzles of unsatisfying metaphysics. He saw but + a charlatan, and he had not yet learned from experience what strength and + what danger lie hid in the boa parading its colours in the sun, and + shifting, in the sensual sportiveness of its being, from bough to bough. + </p> + <p> + Varney halted in the middle of the room as his eye rested first on + Ardworth, and then glanced towards Madame Dalibard. But Ardworth, jarred + from his revery or resolves by the sound of a voice discordant to his ear + at all times, especially in the mood which then possessed him, scarcely + returned Varney’s salutation, buttoned his coat over his chest, seized his + hat, and upsetting two chairs, and very considerably disturbing the + gravity of a round table, forced his way to Madame Dalibard, pressed her + hand, and said in a whisper, “I shall see you again soon,” and vanished. + </p> + <p> + Varney, smoothing his hair with fingers that shone with rings, slid into + the seat next Madame Dalibard, which Ardworth had lately occupied, and + said: “If I were a Clytemnestra, I should dread an Orestes in such a son!” + </p> + <p> + Madame Dalibard shot towards the speaker one of the sidelong, suspicious + glances which of old had characterized Lucretia, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “Clytemnestra was happy! The Furies slept to her crime, and haunted but + the avenger.” + </p> + <p> + “Hist!” said Varney. + </p> + <p> + The door opened, and Ardworth reappeared. + </p> + <p> + “I quite forgot what I half came to know. How is Helen? Did she return + home safe?” + </p> + <p> + “Safe—yes!” + </p> + <p> + “Dear girl, I am glad to hear it! Where is she? Not gone to those Miverses + again? I am no aristocrat, but why should one couple together refinement + and vulgarity?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ardworth,” said Madame Dalibard, with haughty coldness, “my niece is + under my care, and you will permit me to judge for myself how to discharge + the trust. Mr. Mivers is her own relation,—a nearer one than you + are.” + </p> + <p> + Not at all abashed by the rebuke, Ardworth said carelessly: “Well, I shall + talk to you again on that subject. Meanwhile, pray give my love to her,—Helen, + I mean.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Dalibard half rose in her chair, then sank back again, motioning + with her hand to Ardworth to approach. Varney rose and walked to the + window, as if sensible that something was about to be said not meant for + his ear. + </p> + <p> + When Ardworth was close to her chair, Madame Dalibard grasped his hand + with a vigour that surprised him, and drawing him nearer still, whispered + as he bent down,— + </p> + <p> + “I will give Helen your love, if it is a cousin’s, or, if you will, a + brother’s love. Do you intend—do you feel—an other, a warmer + love? Speak, sir!” and drawing suddenly back, she gazed on his face with a + stern and menacing expression, her teeth set, and the lips firmly pressed + together. + </p> + <p> + Ardworth, though a little startled, and half angry, answered with the low, + ironical laugh not uncommon to him, “Pish! you ladies are apt to think us + men much greater fools than we are. A briefless lawyer is not very + inflammable tinder. Yes, a cousin’s love,—quite enough. Poor little + Helen! time enough to put other notions into her head; and then—she + will have a sweetheart, gay and handsome like herself!” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” said Madame Dalibard, with a slight smile, “ay, I am satisfied. Come + soon.” + </p> + <p> + Ardworth nodded, and hurried down the stairs. As he gained the door, he + caught sight of Helen at a distance, bending over a flower-bed in the + neglected garden. He paused, irresolute, a moment. “No,” he muttered to + himself, “no; I am fit company only for myself! A long walk into the + fields, and then away with these mists round the Past and Future; the + Present at least is mine!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="Blink2HCH0015" id="Blink2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. THE WEAVERS AND THE WOOF. + </h2> + <p> + “And what,” said Varney,—“what, while we are pursuing a fancied + clew, and seeking to provide first a name, and then a fortune for this + young lawyer,—what steps have you really taken to meet the danger + that menaces me,—to secure, if our inquiries fail, an independence + for yourself? Months have elapsed, and you have still shrunk from + advancing the great scheme upon which we built, when the daughter of Susan + Mainwaring was admitted to your hearth.” + </p> + <p> + “Why recall me, in these rare moments when I feel myself human still,—why + recall me back to the nethermost abyss of revenge and crime? Oh, let me be + sure that I have still a son! Even if John Ardworth, with his gifts and + energies, be denied to me, a son, though in rags, I will give him wealth!—a + son, though ignorant as the merest boor, I will pour into his brain my + dark wisdom! A son! a son! my heart swells at the word. Ah, you sneer! + Yes, my heart swells, but not with the mawkish fondness of a feeble + mother. In a son, I shall live again,—transmigrate from this + tortured and horrible life of mine; drink back my youth. In him I shall + rise from my fall,—strong in his power, great in his grandeur. It is + because I was born a woman,—had woman’s poor passions and infirm + weakness,—that I am what I am. I would transfer myself into the soul + of man,—man, who has the strength to act, and the privilege to rise. + Into the bronze of man’s nature I would pour the experience which has + broken, with its fierce elements, the puny vessel of clay. Yes, Gabriel, + in return for all I have done and sacrificed for you, I ask but + co-operation in that one hope of my shattered and storm-beat being. Bear, + forbear, await; risk not that hope by some wretched, peddling crime which + will bring on us both detection,—some wanton revelry in guilt, which + is not worth the terror that treads upon its heels.” + </p> + <p> + “You forget,” answered Varney, with a kind of submissive sullenness,—for + whatever had passed between these two persons in their secret and fearful + intimacy, there was still a power in Lucretia, surviving her fall amidst + the fiends, that impressed Varney with the only respect he felt for man or + woman,—“you forget strangely the nature of our elaborate and master + project when you speak of ‘peddling crime,’ or ‘wanton revelry’ in guilt! + You forget, too, how every hour that we waste deepens the peril that + surrounds me, and may sweep from your side the sole companion that can aid + you in your objects,—nay, without whom they must wholly fail. Let me + speak first of that most urgent danger, for your memory seems short and + troubled, since you have learned only to hope the recovery of your son. If + this man Stubmore, in whom the trust created by my uncle’s will is now + vested, once comes to town, once begins to bustle about his accursed + projects of transferring the money from the Bank of England, I tell you + again and again that my forgery on the bank will be detected, and that + transportation will be the smallest penalty inflicted. Part of the + forgery, as you know, was committed on your behalf, to find the moneys + necessary for the research for your son,—committed on the clear + understanding that our project on Helen should repay me, should enable me, + perhaps undetected, to restore the sums illegally abstracted, or, at the + worst, to confess to Stubmore—whose character I well know—that, + oppressed by difficulties, I had yielded to temptation, that I had forged + his name (as I had forged his father’s) as an authority to sell the + capital from the bank, and that now, in replacing the money, I repaid my + error and threw myself on his indulgence, on his silence. I say that I + know enough of the man to know that I should be thus cheaply saved, or at + the worst, I should have but to strengthen his compassion by a bribe to + his avarice; but if I cannot replace the money, I am lost.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” said Lucretia; “the money you shall have, let me but find my + son, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Grant me patience!” cried Varney, impetuously. “But what can your son do, + if found, unless you endow him with the heritage of Laughton? To do that, + Helen, who comes next to Percival St. John in the course of the entail, + must cease to live! Have I not aided, am I not aiding you hourly, in your + grand objects? This evening I shall see a man whom I have long lost sight + of, but who has acquired in a lawyer’s life the true scent after evidence: + if that evidence exist, it shall be found. I have just learned his + address. By tomorrow he shall be on the track. I have stinted myself to + save from the results of the last forgery the gold to whet his zeal. For + the rest, as I have said, your design involves the removal of two lives. + Already over the one more difficult to slay the shadow creeps and the pall + hangs. I have won, as you wished, and as was necessary, young St. John’s + familiar acquaintance; when the hour comes, he is in my hands.” + </p> + <p> + Lucretia smiled sternly. “So!” she said, between her ground teeth, “the + father forbade me the house that was my heritage! I have but to lift a + finger and breathe a word, and, desolate as I am, I thrust from that home + the son! The spoiler left me the world,—I leave his son the grave!” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Varney, doggedly pursuing his dreadful object, “why force me + to repeat that his is not the only life between you and your son’s + inheritance? St. John gone, Helen still remains. And what, if your + researches fail, are we to lose the rich harvest which Helen will yield + us,—a harvest you reap with the same sickle which gathers in your + revenge? Do you no longer see in Helen’s face the features of her mother? + Is the perfidy of William Mainwaring forgotten or forgiven?” + </p> + <p> + “Gabriel Varney,” said Lucretia, in a hollow and tremulous voice, “when in + that hour in which my whole being was revulsed, and I heard the cord snap + from the anchor, and saw the demons of the storm gather round my bark; + when in that hour I stooped calmly down and kissed my rival’s brow,—I + murmured an oath which seemed not inspired by my own soul, but by an + influence henceforth given to my fate: I vowed that the perfidy dealt to + me should be repaid; I vowed that the ruin of my own existence should fall + on the brow which I kissed. I vowed that if shame and disgrace were to + supply the inheritance I had forfeited, I would not stand alone amidst the + scorn of the pitiless world. In the vision of my agony, I saw, afar, the + altar dressed and the bride-chamber prepared; and I breathed my curse, + strong as prophecy, on the marriage-hearth and the marriage-bed. Why + dream, then, that I would rescue the loathed child of that loathed union + from your grasp? But is the time come? Yours may be come: is mine?” + </p> + <p> + Something so awful there was in the look of his accomplice, so intense in + the hate of her low voice, that Varney, wretch as he was, and + contemplating at that very hour the foulest and most hideous guilt, drew + back, appalled. + </p> + <p> + Madame Dalibard resumed, and in a somewhat softer tone, but softened only + by the anguish of despair. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, had it been otherwise, what might I have been! Given over from that + hour to the very incarnation of plotting crime, none to resist the evil + impulse of my own maddening heart, the partner, forced on me by fate, + leading me deeper and deeper into the inextricable hell,—from that + hour fraud upon fraud, guilt upon guilt, infamy heaped on infamy, till I + stand a marvel to myself that the thunderbolt falls not, that Nature + thrusts not from her breast a living outrage on all her laws! Was I not + justified in the desire of retribution? Every step that I fell, every + glance that I gave to the gulf below, increased but in me the desire for + revenge. All my acts had flowed from one fount: should the stream roll + pollution, and the fount spring pure?” + </p> + <p> + “You have had your revenge on your rival and her husband.” + </p> + <p> + “I had it, and I passed on!” said Lucretia, with nostrils dilated as with + haughty triumph; “they were crushed, and I suffered them to live! Nay, + when, by chance, I heard of William Mainwaring’s death, I bowed down my + head, and I almost think I wept. The old days came back upon me. Yes, I + wept! But I had not destroyed their love. No, no; there I had miserably + failed. A pledge of that love lived. I had left their hearth barren; Fate + sent them a comfort which I had not foreseen. And suddenly my hate + returned, my wrongs rose again, my vengeance was not sated. The love that + had destroyed more than my life,—my soul,—rose again and + cursed me in the face of Helen. The oath which I took when I kissed my + rival’s brow, demanded another prey when I kissed the child of those + nuptials.” + </p> + <p> + “You are prepared at last, then, to act?” cried Varney, in a tone of + savage joy. + </p> + <p> + At that moment, close under the window, rose, sudden and sweet, the voice + of one singing,—the young voice of Helen. The words were so distinct + that they came to the ears of the dark-plotting and guilty pair. In the + song itself there was little to remark or peculiarly apposite to the + consciences of those who heard; yet in the extreme and touching purity of + the voice, and in the innocence of the general spirit of the words, trite + as might be the image they conveyed, there was something that contrasted + so fearfully their own thoughts and minds that they sat silent, looking + vacantly into each other’s faces, and shrinking perhaps to turn their eyes + within themselves. + </p> + <p> + HELEN’S HYMN. + </p> + <p> + Ye fade, yet still how sweet, ye Flowers! Your scent outlives the bloom! + So, Father, may my mortal hours Grow sweeter towards the tomb! + </p> + <p> + In withered leaves a healing cure The simple gleaners find; So may our + withered hopes endure In virtues left behind! + </p> + <p> + Oh, not to me be vainly given The lesson ye bestow, Of thoughts that rise + in sweets to Heaven, And turn to use below. + </p> + <p> + The song died, but still the listeners remained silent, till at length, + shaking off the effect, with his laugh of discordant irony, Varney said,— + </p> + <p> + “Sweet innocence, fresh from the nursery! Would it not be sin to suffer + the world to mar it? You hear the prayer: why not grant it, and let the + flower ‘turn to use below’?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but could it wither first!” muttered Lucretia, with an accent of + suppressed rage. “Do you think that her—that his—daughter is + to me but a vulgar life to be sacrificed merely for gold? Imagine away + your sex, man! Women only know what I—such as I, woman still—feel + in the presence of the pure! Do you fancy that I should not have held + death a blessing if death could have found me in youth such as Helen is? + Ah, could she but live to suffer! Die! Well, since it must be, since my + son requires the sacrifice, do as you will with the victim that death + mercifully snatches from my grasp. I could have wished to prolong her + life, to load it with some fragment of the curse her parents heaped upon + me,—baffled love, and ruin, and despair! I could have hoped, in this + division of the spoil, that mine had been the vengeance, if yours the + gold. You want the life, I the heart,—the heart to torture first; + and then—why then more willingly than I do now, could I have thrown + the carcass to the jackal!” + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” began Varney; when the door opened and Helen herself stood + unconsciously smiling at the threshold. + </p> + <p> + <a name="Blink2HCH0016" id="Blink2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. THE LAWYER AND THE BODY-SNATCHER. + </h2> + <p> + That same evening Beck, according to appointment, met Percival and showed + him the dreary-looking house which held the fair stranger who had so + attracted his youthful fancy. And Percival looked at the high walls with + the sailor’s bold desire for adventure, while confused visions reflected + from plays, operas, and novels, in which scaling walls with rope-ladders + and dark-lanterns was represented as the natural vocation of a lover, + flitted across his brain; and certainly he gave a deep sigh as his + common-sense plucked him back from such romance. However, having now + ascertained the house, it would be easy to learn the name of its inmates, + and to watch or make his opportunity. As slowly and reluctantly he walked + back to the spot where he had left his cabriolet, he entered into some + desultory conversation with his strange guide; and the pity he had before + conceived for Beck increased upon him as he talked and listened. This + benighted mind, only illumined by a kind of miserable astuteness and that + “cunning of the belly” which is born of want to engender avarice; this + joyless temperament; this age in youth; this living reproach, rising up + from the stones of London against our social indifference to the souls + which wither and rot under the hard eyes of science and the deaf ears of + wealth,—had a pathos for his lively sympathies and his fresh heart. + </p> + <p> + “If ever you want a friend, come to me,” said St. John, abruptly. + </p> + <p> + The sweeper stared, and a gleam of diviner nature, a ray of gratitude and + unselfish devotion, darted through the fog and darkness of his mind. He + stood, with his hat off, watching the wheels of the cabriolet as it bore + away the happy child of fortune, and then, shaking his head, as at some + puzzle that perplexed and defied his comprehension, strode back to the + town and bent his way homeward. + </p> + <p> + Between two and three hours after Percival thus parted from the sweeper, a + man whose dress was little in accordance with the scene in which we + present him, threaded his way through a foul labyrinth of alleys in the + worst part of St. Giles’s,—a neighbourhood, indeed, carefully + shunned at dusk by wealthy passengers; for here dwelt not only Penury in + its grimmest shape, but the desperate and dangerous guilt which is not to + be lightly encountered in its haunts and domiciles. Here children imbibe + vice with their mother’s milk. Here Prostitution, commencing with + childhood, grows fierce and sanguinary in the teens, and leagues with + theft and murder. Here slinks the pickpocket, here emerges the burglar, + here skulks the felon. Yet all about and all around, here, too, may be + found virtue in its rarest and noblest form,—virtue outshining + circumstance and defying temptation; the virtue of utter poverty, which + groans, and yet sins not. So interwoven are these webs of penury and fraud + that in one court your life is not safe; but turn to the right hand, and + in the other, you might sleep safely in that worse than Irish shealing, + though your pockets were full of gold. Through these haunts the ragged and + penniless may walk unfearing, for they have nothing to dread from the + lawless,—more, perhaps, from the law; but the wealthy, the + respectable, the spruce, the dainty, let them beware the spot, unless the + policeman is in sight or day is in the skies! + </p> + <p> + As this passenger, whose appearance, as we have implied, was certainly not + that of a denizen, turned into one of the alleys, a rough hand seized him + by the arm, and suddenly a group of girls and tatterdemalions issued from + a house, in which the lower shutters unclosed showed a light burning, and + surrounded him with a hoarse whoop. + </p> + <p> + The passenger whispered a word in the ear of the grim blackguard who had + seized him, and his arm was instantly released. + </p> + <p> + “Hist! a pal,—he has the catch,” said the blackguard, surlily. The + group gave way, and by the light of the clear starlit skies, and a single + lamp hung at the entrance of the alley, gazed upon the stranger. But they + made no effort to detain him; and as he disappeared in the distant + shadows, hastened back into the wretched hostlery where they had been + merry-making. Meanwhile, the stranger gained a narrow court, and stopped + before a house in one of its angles,—a house taller than the rest, + so much taller than the rest that it had the effect of a tower; you would + have supposed it (perhaps rightly) to be the last remains of some ancient + building of importance, around which, as population thickened and fashion + changed, the huts below it had insolently sprung up. Quaint and massive + pilasters, black with the mire and soot of centuries, flanked the deep-set + door; the windows were heavy with mullions and transoms, and strongly + barred in the lower floor; but few of the panes were whole, and only here + and there had any attempt been made to keep out the wind and rain by rags, + paper, old shoes, old hats, and other ingenious contrivances. Beside the + door was conveniently placed a row of some ten or twelve bell-pulls, + appertaining no doubt to the various lodgments into which the building was + subdivided. The stranger did not seem very familiar with the appurtenances + of the place. He stood in some suspense as to the proper bell to select; + but at last, guided by a brass plate annexed to one of the pulls, which, + though it was too dark to decipher the inscription, denoted a claim to + superior gentility to the rest of that nameless class, he hazarded a tug, + which brought forth a ‘larum loud enough to startle the whole court from + its stillness. + </p> + <p> + In a minute or less, the casement in one of the upper stories opened, a + head peered forth, and one of those voices peculiar to low debauch—raw, + cracked, and hoarse—called out: “Who waits?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it you, Grabman?” asked the stranger, dubiously. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,—Nicholas Grabman, attorney-at-law, sir, at your service; and + your name?” + </p> + <p> + “Jason,” answered the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “Ho, there! ho, Beck!” cried the cracked voice to some one within; “go + down and open the door.” + </p> + <p> + In a few moments the heavy portal swung and creaked and yawned sullenly, + and a gaunt form, half-undressed, with an inch of a farthing rushlight + glimmering through a battered lantern in its hand, presented itself to + Jason. The last eyed the ragged porter sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Do you live here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Beck, with the cringe habitual to him. “H-up the ladder, + vith the rats, drat ‘em.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, lead on; hold up the lantern. A devil of a dark place this!” + grumbled Jason, as he nearly stumbled over sundry broken chattels, and + gained a flight of rude, black, broken stairs, that creaked under his + tread. + </p> + <p> + “‘St! ‘st!” said Beck between his teeth, as the stranger, halting at the + second floor, demanded, in no gentle tones, whether Mr. Grabman lived in + the chimney-pots. + </p> + <p> + “‘St! ‘st! Don’t make such a rumpus, or No. 7 will be at you.” + </p> + <p> + “What do I care for No. 7? And who the devil is No. 7?” + </p> + <p> + “A body-snatcher!” whispered Beck, with a shudder. “He’s a dillicut + sleeper,—can’t abide having his night’s rest sp’ilt. And he’s the + houtrageoustest great cretur when he’s h-up in his tantrums; it makes your + ‘air stand on ind to ‘ear him!” + </p> + <p> + “I should like very much to hear him, then,” said the stranger, curiously. + And while he spoke, the door of No. 7 opened abruptly. A huge head, + covered with matted hair, was thrust for a moment through the aperture, + and two dull eyes, that seemed covered with a film like that of the birds + which feed on the dead, met the stranger’s bold, sparkling orbs. + </p> + <p> + “Hell and fury!” bawled out the voice of this ogre, like a clap of near + thunder, “if you two keep tramp, tramp, there close at my door, I’ll make + you meat for the surgeons, b—— you!” + </p> + <p> + “Stop a moment, my civil friend,” said the stranger, advancing; “just + stand where you are: I should like to make a sketch of your head.” + </p> + <p> + That head protruded farther from the door, and with it an enormous bulk of + chest and shoulder. But the adventurous visitor was not to be daunted. He + took out, very coolly, a pencil and the back of a letter, and began his + sketch. + </p> + <p> + The body-snatcher stared at him an instant in mute astonishment; but that + operation and the composure of the artist were so new to him that they + actually inspired him with terror. He slunk back, banged to the door; and + the stranger, putting up his implements, said, with a disdainful laugh, to + Beck, who had slunk away into a corner,— + </p> + <p> + “No. 7 knows well how to take care of No. 1. Lead on, and be quick, then!” + </p> + <p> + As they continued to mount, they heard the body-snatcher growling and + blaspheming in his den, and the sound made Beck clamber the quicker, till + at the next landing-place he took breath, threw open a door, and Jason, + pushing him aside, entered first. + </p> + <p> + The interior of the room bespoke better circumstances than might have been + supposed from the approach; the floor was covered with sundry scraps of + carpet, formerly of different hues and patterns, but mellowed by time into + one threadbare mass of grease and canvas. There was a good fire on the + hearth, though the night was warm; there were sundry volumes piled round + the walls, in the binding peculiar to law books; in a corner stood a tall + desk, of the fashion used by clerks, perched on tall, slim legs, and + companioned by a tall, slim stool. On a table before the fire were + scattered the remains of the nightly meal,—broiled bones, the + skeleton of a herring; and the steam rose from a tumbler containing a + liquid colourless as water, but poisonous as gin. + </p> + <p> + The room was squalid and dirty, and bespoke mean and slovenly habits; but + it did not bespeak penury and want, it had even an air of filthy comfort + of its own,—the comfort of the swine in its warm sty. The occupant + of the chamber was in keeping with the localities. Figure to yourself a + man of middle height, not thin, but void of all muscular flesh,—bloated, + puffed, unwholesome. He was dressed in a gray-flannel gown and short + breeches, the stockings wrinkled and distained, the feet in slippers. The + stomach was that of a portly man, the legs were those of a skeleton; the + cheeks full and swollen, like a ploughboy’s, but livid, bespeckled, of a + dull lead-colour, like a patient in the dropsy. The head, covered in + patches with thin, yellowish hair, gave some promise of intellect, for the + forehead was high, and appeared still more so from partial baldness; the + eyes, embedded in fat and wrinkled skin, were small and lustreless, but + they still had that acute look which education and ability communicate to + the human orb; the mouth most showed the animal,—full-lipped, + coarse, and sensual; while behind one of two great ears stuck a pen. + </p> + <p> + You see before you, then, this slatternly figure,—slipshod, + half-clothed, with a sort of shabby demi-gentility about it, half + ragamuffin, half clerk; while in strong contrast appeared the new-comer, + scrupulously neat, new, with bright black-satin stock, coat cut jauntily + to the waist, varnished boots, kid gloves, and trim mustache. + </p> + <p> + Behind this sleek and comely personage, on knock-knees, in torn shirt open + at the throat, with apathetic, listless, unlighted face, stood the lean + and gawky Beck. + </p> + <p> + “Set a chair for the gentleman,” said the inmate of the chamber to Beck, + with a dignified wave of the hand. + </p> + <p> + “How do you do, Mr.—Mr.—humph—Jason? How do you do? + Always smart and blooming; the world thrives with you.” + </p> + <p> + “The world is a farm that thrives with all who till it properly, Grabman,” + answered Jason, dryly; and with his handkerchief he carefully dusted the + chair, on which he then daintily deposited his person. + </p> + <p> + “But who is your Ganymede, your valet, your gentleman-usher?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a lad about town who lodges above and does odd jobs for me,—brushes + my coat, cleans my shoes, and after his day’s work goes an errand now and + then. Make yourself scarce, Beck! Anatomy, vanish!” + </p> + <p> + Beck grinned, nodded, pulled hard at a flake of his hair, and closed the + door. + </p> + <p> + “One of your brotherhood, that?” asked Jason, carelessly. + </p> + <p> + “He, oaf? No,” said Grabman, with profound contempt in his sickly visage. + “He works for his bread,—instinct! Turnspits and truffle-dogs and + some silly men have it! What an age since we met! Shall I mix you a + tumbler?” + </p> + <p> + “You know I never drink your vile spirits; though in Champagne and + Bordeaux I am any man’s match.” + </p> + <p> + “And how the devil do you keep old black thoughts out of your mind by + those washy potations?” + </p> + <p> + “Old black thoughts—of what?” + </p> + <p> + “Of black actions, Jason. We have not met since you paid me for + recommending the nurse who attended your uncle in his last illness.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, poor coward?” + </p> + <p> + Grabman knit his thin eyebrows and gnawed his blubber lips. + </p> + <p> + “I am no coward, as you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Not when a thing is to be done, but after it is done. You brave the + substance, and tremble at the shadow. I dare say you see ugly goblins in + the dark, Grabman?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, ay; but it is no use talking to you. You call yourself Jason because + of your yellow hair, or your love for the golden fleece; but your old + comrades call you ‘Rattlesnake,’ and you have its blood, as its venom.” + </p> + <p> + “And its charm, man,” added Jason, with a strange smile, that, though + hypocritical and constrained, had yet a certain softness, and added + greatly to the comeliness of features which many might call beautiful, and + all would allow to be regular and symmetrical. “I shall find at least ten + love-letters on my table when I go home. But enough of these fopperies, I + am here on business.” + </p> + <p> + “Law, of course; I am your man. Who’s the victim?” and a hideous grin on + Grabman’s face contrasted the sleek smile that yet lingered upon his + visitor’s. + </p> + <p> + “No; something less hazardous, but not less lucrative than our old + practices. This is a business that may bring you hundreds, thousands; that + may take you from this hovel to speculate at the West End; that may change + your gin into Lafitte, and your herring into venison; that may lift the + broken attorney again upon the wheel,—again to roll down, it may be; + but that is your affair.” + </p> + <p> + “‘Fore Gad, open the case,” cried Grabman, eagerly, and shoving aside the + ignoble relics of his supper, he leaned his elbows on the table and his + chin on his damp palms, while eyes that positively brightened into an + expression of greedy and relentless intelligence were fixed upon his + visitor. + </p> + <p> + “The case runs thus,” said Jason. “Once upon a time there lived, at an old + house in Hampshire called Laughton, a wealthy baronet named St. John. He + was a bachelor, his estates at his own disposal. He had two nieces and a + more distant kinsman. His eldest niece lived with him,—she was + supposed to be destined for his heiress; circumstances needless to relate + brought upon this girl her uncle’s displeasure,—she was dismissed + his house. Shortly afterwards he died, leaving to his kinsman—a Mr. + Vernon—his estates, with remainder to Vernon’s issue, and in default + thereof, first to the issue of the younger niece, next to that of the + elder and disinherited one. The elder married, and was left a widow + without children. She married again, and had a son. Her second husband, + for some reason or other, conceived ill opinions of his wife. In his last + illness (he did not live long) he resolved to punish the wife by robbing + the mother. He sent away the son, nor have we been able to discover him + since. It is that son whom you are to find.” + </p> + <p> + “I see, I see; go on,” said Grabman. “This son is now the remainderman. + How lost? When? What year? What trace?” + </p> + <p> + “Patience. You will find in this paper the date of the loss and the age of + the child, then a mere infant. Now for the trace. This husband—did I + tell you his name? No? Alfred Braddell—had one friend more intimate + than the rest,—John Walter Ardworth, a cashiered officer, a ruined + man, pursued by bill-brokers, Jews, and bailiffs. To this man we have + lately had reason to believe that the child was given. Ardworth, however, + was shortly afterwards obliged to fly his creditors. We know that he went + to India; but if residing there, it must have been under some new name, + and we fear he is now dead. All our inquiries, at least after this man, + have been fruitless. Before he went abroad, he left with his old tutor a + child corresponding in age to that of Mrs. Braddell’s. In this child she + thinks she recognizes her son. All that you have to do is to trace his + identity by good legal evidence. Don’t smile in that foolish way,—I + mean sound, bona fide evidence that will stand the fire of + cross-examination; you know what that is! You will therefore find out,—first, + whether Braddell did consign his child to Ardworth, and, if so, you must + then follow Ardworth, with that child in his keeping, to Matthew Fielden’s + house, whose address you find noted in the paper I gave you, together with + many other memoranda as to Ardworth’s creditors and those whom he is + likely to have come across.” + </p> + <p> + “John Ardworth, I see!” + </p> + <p> + “John Walter Ardworth,—commonly called Walter; he, like me, + preferred to be known only by his second baptismal name. He, because of a + favourite Radical godfather; I, because Honore is an inconvenient + Gallicism. And perhaps when Honore Mirabeau (my godfather) went out of + fashion with the sans-culottes, my father thought Gabriel a safer + designation. Now I have told you all.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the mother’s maiden name?” + </p> + <p> + “Her maiden name was Clavering; she was married under that of Dalibard, + her first husband.” + </p> + <p> + “And,” said Grabman, looking over the notes in the paper given to him, “it + is at Liverpool that the husband died, and whence the child was sent + away?” + </p> + <p> + “It is so; to Liverpool you will go first. I tell you fairly, the task is + difficult, for hitherto it has foiled me. I knew but one man who, without + flattery, could succeed, and therefore I spared no pains to find out + Nicholas Grabman. You have the true ferret’s faculty; you, too, are a + lawyer, and snuff evidence in every breath. Find us a son,—a legal + son,—a son to be shown in a court of law, and the moment he steps + into the lands and the Hall of Laughton, you have five thousand pounds.” + </p> + <p> + “Can I have a bond to that effect?” + </p> + <p> + “My bond, I fear, is worth no more than my word. Trust to the last; if I + break it, you know enough of my secrets to hang me!” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t talk of hanging; I hate that subject. But stop. If found, does this + son succeed? Did this Mr. Vernon leave no heir; this other sister continue + single, or prove barren?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, true! He, Mr. Vernon, who by will took the name of St. John, he left + issue; but only one son still survives, a minor and unmarried. The sister, + too, left a daughter; both are poor, sickly creatures,—their lives + not worth a straw. Never mind them. You find Vincent Braddell, and he will + not be long out of his property, nor you out of your 5,000 pounds! You + see, under these circumstances a bond might become dangerous evidence!” + </p> + <p> + Grabman emitted a fearful and tremulous chuckle,—a laugh like the + laugh of a superstitious man when you talk to him of ghosts and + churchyards. He chuckled, and his hair bristled. But after a pause, in + which he seemed to wrestle with his own conscience, he said: “Well, well, + you are a strange man, Jason; you love your joke. I have nothing to do + except to find out this ultimate remainderman; mind that!” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly; nothing like subdivision of labour.” + </p> + <p> + “The search will be expensive.” + </p> + <p> + “There is oil for your wheels,” answered Jason, putting a note-book into + his confidant’s hands. “But mind you waste it not. No tricks, no false + play, with me; you know Jason, or, if you like the name better, you know + the Rattlesnake!” + </p> + <p> + “I will account for every penny,” said Grabman, eagerly, and clasping his + hands, while his pale face grew livid. + </p> + <p> + “I do not doubt it, my quill-driver. Look sharp, start to-morrow. Get + thyself decent clothes, be sober, cleanly, and respectable. Act as a man + who sees before him 5,000 pounds. And now, light me downstairs.” + </p> + <p> + With the candle in his hand, Grabman stole down the rugged steps even more + timorously than Beck had ascended them, and put his finger to his mouth as + they came in the dread vicinity of No. 7. But Jason, or rather Gabriel + Varney, with that fearless, reckless bravado of temper which, while + causing half his guilt, threw at times a false glitter over its baseness, + piqued by the cowardice of his comrade, gave a lusty kick at the closed + door, and shouted out: “Old grave-stealer, come out, and let me finish + your picture. Out, out! I say, out!” Grabman left the candle on the steps, + and made but three bounds to his own room. + </p> + <p> + At the third shout of his disturber the resurrection-man threw open his + door violently and appeared at the gap, the upward flare of the candle + showing the deep lines ploughed in his hideous face, and the immense + strength of his gigantic trunk and limbs. Slight, fair, and delicate as he + was, Varney eyed him deliberately, and trembled not. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want with me?” said the terrible voice, tremulous with rage. + </p> + <p> + “Only to finish your portrait as Pluto. He was the god of Hell, you know.” + </p> + <p> + The next moment the vast hand of the ogre hung like a great cloud over + Gabriel Varney. This last, ever on his guard, sprang aside, and the light + gleamed on the steel of a pistol. “Hands off! Or—” + </p> + <p> + The click of the pistol-cock finished the sentence. The ruffian halted. A + glare of disappointed fury gave a momentary lustre to his dull eyes. + “P’r’aps I shall meet you again one o’ these days, or nights, and I shall + know ye in ten thousand.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing like a bird in the hand, Master Grave-stealer. Where can we ever + meet again?” + </p> + <p> + “P’r’aps in the fields, p’r’aps on the road, p’r’aps at the Old Bailey, + p’r’aps at the gallows, p’r’aps in the convict-ship. I knows what that is! + I was chained night and day once to a chap jist like you. Didn’t I break + his spurit; didn’t I spile his sleep! Ho, ho! you looks a bit less + varmently howdacious now, my flash cove!” + </p> + <p> + Varney hitherto had not known one pang of fear, one quicker beat of the + heart before. But the image presented to his irritable fancy (always prone + to brood over terrors),—the image of that companion chained to him + night and day,—suddenly quelled his courage; the image stood before + him palpably like the Oulos Oneiros,—the Evil Dream of the Greeks. + </p> + <p> + He breathed loud. The body-stealer’s stupid sense saw that he had produced + the usual effect of terror, which gratified his brutal self-esteem; he + retreated slowly, inch by inch, to the door, followed by Varney’s appalled + and staring eye, and closed it with such violence that the candle was + extinguished. + </p> + <p> + Varney, not daring,—yes, literally not daring,—to call aloud + to Grabman for another light, crept down the dark stairs with hurried, + ghostlike steps; and after groping at the door-handle with one hand, while + the other grasped his pistol with a strain of horror, he succeeded at last + in winning access to the street, and stood a moment to collect himself in + the open air,—the damps upon his forehead, and his limbs trembling + like one who has escaped by a hairbreadth the crash of a falling house. + </p> + <p> + <a name="Blink2HCH0017" id="Blink2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. THE RAPE OF THE MATTRESS. + </h2> + <p> + That Mr. Grabman slept calmly that night is probable enough, for his + gin-bottle was empty the next morning; and it was with eyes more than + usually heavy that he dozily followed the movements of Beck, who, + according to custom, opened the shutters of the little den adjoining his + sitting-room, brushed his clothes, made his fire, set on the kettle to + boil, and laid his breakfast things, preparatory to his own departure to + the duties of the day. Stretching himself, however, and shaking off + slumber, as the remembrance of the enterprise he had undertaken glanced + pleasantly across him, Grabman sat up in his bed and said, in a voice + that, if not maudlin, was affectionate, and if not affectionate, was + maudlin,— + </p> + <p> + “Beck, you are a good fellow. You have faults, you are human,—humanism + est errare; which means that you some times scorch my muffins. But, take + you all in all, you are a kind creature. Beck, I am going into the country + for some days. I shall leave my key in the hole in the wall,—you + know; take care of it when you come in. You were out late last night, my + poor fellow. Very wrong! Look well to yourself, or who knows? You may be + clutched by that blackguard resurrection-man, No. 7. Well, well, to think + of that Jason’s foolhardiness! But he’s the worse devil of the two. Eh! + what was I saying? And always give a look into my room every night before + you go to roost. The place swarms with cracksmen, and one can’t be too + cautious. Lucky dog, you, to have nothing to be robbed of!” + </p> + <p> + Beck winced at that last remark. Grabman did not seem to notice his + confusion, and proceeded, as he put on his stockings: “And, Beck, you are + a good fellow, and have served me faithfully; when I come back, I will + bring you something handsome,—a backey-box or—who knows?—a + beautiful silver watch. Meanwhile, I think—let me see—yes, I + can give you this elegant pair of small-clothes. Put out my best,—the + black ones. And now, Beck, I’ll not keep you any longer.” + </p> + <p> + The poor sweep, with many pulls at his forelock, acknowledged the + munificent donation; and having finished all his preparations, hastened + first to his room, to examine at leisure, and with great admiration, the + drab small-clothes. “Room,” indeed, we can scarcely style the wretched + enclosure which Beck called his own. It was at the top of the house, under + the roof, and hot—oh, so hot—in the summer! It had one small + begrimed window, through which the light of heaven never came, for the + parapet, beneath which ran the choked gutter, prevented that; but the rain + and the wind came in. So sometimes, through four glassless frames, came a + fugitive tom-cat. As for the rats, they held the place as their own. + Accustomed to Beck, they cared nothing for him. + </p> + <p> + They were the Mayors of that Palace; he only le roi faineant. They ran + over his bed at night; he often felt them on his face, and was convinced + they would have eaten him, if there had been anything worth eating upon + his bones; still, perhaps out of precaution rather than charity, he + generally left them a potato or two, or a crust of bread, to take off the + edge of their appetites. But Beck was far better off than most who + occupied the various settlements in that Alsatia,—he had his room to + himself. That was necessary to his sole luxury,—the inspection of + his treasury, the safety of his mattress; for it he paid, without + grumbling, what he thought was a very high rent. To this hole in the roof + there was no lock,—for a very good reason, there was no door to it. + You went up a ladder, as you would go into a loft. Now, it had often been + matter of much intense cogitation to Beck whether or not he should have a + door to his chamber; and the result of the cogitation was invariably the + same,—he dared not! What should he want with a door,—a door + with a lock to it? For one followed as a consequence to the other. Such a + novel piece of grandeur would be an ostentatious advertisement that he had + something to guard. He could have no pretence for it on the ground that he + was intruded on by neighbours; no step but his own was ever caught by him + ascending that ladder; it led to no other room. All the offices required + for the lodgment he performed himself. His supposed poverty was a better + safeguard than doors of iron. Besides this, a door, if dangerous, would be + superfluous; the moment it was suspected that Beck had something worth + guarding, that moment all the picklocks and skeleton keys in the + neighbourhood would be in a jingle. And a cracksman of high repute lodged + already on the ground-floor. So Beck’s treasure, like the bird’s nest, was + deposited as much out of sight as his instinct could contrive; and the + locks and bolts of civilized men were equally dispensed with by bird and + Beck. + </p> + <p> + On a rusty nail the sweep suspended the drab small-clothes, stroked them + down lovingly, and murmured, “They be ‘s too good for I; I should like to + pop ‘em! But vould n’t that be a shame? Beck, be n’t you be a hungrateful + beast to go for to think of nothin’ but the tin, ven your ‘art ought to + varm with hemotion? I vill vear ‘em ven I vaits on him. Ven he sees his + own smalls bringing in the muffins, he will say, ‘Beck, you becomes ‘em!’” + </p> + <p> + Fraught with this noble resolution, the sweep caught up his broom, crept + down the ladder, and with a furtive glance at the door of the room in + which the cracksman lived, let himself out and shambled his way to his + crossing. Grabman, in the mean while, dressed himself with more care than + usual, shaved his beard from a four days’ crop, and while seated at his + breakfast, read attentively over the notes which Varney had left to him, + pausing at times to make his own pencil memoranda. He then packed up such + few articles as so moderate a worshipper of the Graces might require, + deposited them in an old blue brief-bag, and this done, he opened his + door, and creeping to the threshold, listened carefully. Below, a few + sounds might be heard,—here, the wail of a child; there, the shrill + scold of a woman in that accent above all others adapted to scold,—the + Irish. Farther down still, the deep bass oath of the choleric + resurrection-man; but above, all was silent. Only one floor intervened + between Grabman’s apartment and the ladder that led to Beck’s loft. And + the inmates of that room gave no sound of life. Grabman took courage, and + shuffling off his shoes, ascended the stairs; he passed the closed door of + the room above; he seized the ladder with a shaking hand; he mounted, step + after step; he stood in Beck’s room. + </p> + <p> + Now, O Nicholas Grabman! some moralists may be harsh enough to condemn + thee for what thou art doing,—kneeling yonder in the dim light, by + that curtainless pallet, with greedy fingers feeling here and there, and a + placid, self-hugging smile upon thy pale lips. That poor vagabond whom + thou art about to despoil has served thee well and faithfully, has borne + with thine ill-humours, thy sarcasms, thy swearings, thy kicks, and + buffets; often, when in the bestial sleep of drunkenness he has found thee + stretched helpless on thy floor, with a kindly hand he has moved away the + sharp fender, too near that knavish head, now bent on his ruin, or closed + the open window, lest the keen air, that thy breath tainted, should visit + thee with rheum and fever. Small has been his guerdon for uncomplaining + sacrifice of the few hours spared to this weary drudge from his daily + toil,—small, but gratefully received. And if Beck had been taught to + pray, he would have prayed for thee as for a good man, O miserable sinner! + And thou art going now, Nicholas Grabman, upon an enterprise which + promises thee large gains, and thy purse is filled; and thou wantest + nothing for thy wants or thy swinish luxuries. Why should those shaking + fingers itch for the poor beggar-man’s hoards? + </p> + <p> + But hadst thou been bound on an errand that would have given thee a + million, thou wouldst not have left unrifled that secret store which thy + prying eye had discovered, and thy hungry heart had coveted. No; since one + night,—fatal, alas! to the owner of loft and treasure, when, needing + Beck for some service, and fearing to call aloud (for the resurrection-man + in the floor below thee, whose oaths even now ascend to thine ear, sleeps + ill, and has threatened to make thee mute forever if thou disturbest him + in the few nights in which his dismal calling suffers him to sleep at + all), thou didst creep up the ladder, and didst see the unconscious miser + at his nightly work, and after the sight didst steal down again, smiling,—no; + since that night, no schoolboy ever more rootedly and ruthlessly set his + mind upon nest of linnet than thine was set upon the stores in Beck’s + mattress. + </p> + <p> + And yet why, O lawyer, should rigid moralists blame thee more than such of + thy tribe as live, honoured and respectable, upon the frail and the poor? + Who among them ever left loft or mattress while a rap could be wrung from + either? Matters it to Astraea whether the spoliation be made thus nakedly + and briefly, or by all the acknowledged forms in which, item on item, + six-and-eightpence on six-and-eightpence, the inexorable hand closes at + length on the last farthing of duped despair? Not—Heaven forbid!—that + we make thee, foul Nicholas Grabman, a type for all the class called + attorneys-at-law! Noble hearts, liberal minds, are there amongst that + brotherhood, we know and have experienced; but a type art thou of those + whom want and error and need have proved—alas! too well—the + lawyers of the poor. And even while we write, and even while ye read, many + a Grabman steals from helpless toil the savings of a life. + </p> + <p> + Ye poor hoards,—darling delights of your otherwise joyless owner,—how + easily has his very fondness made ye the prey of the spoiler! How + gleefully, when the pence swelled into a shilling, have they been + exchanged into the new bright piece of silver, the newest and brightest + that could be got; then the shillings into crowns, then the crowns into + gold,—got slyly and at a distance, and contemplated with what + rapture; so that at last the total lay manageable and light in its radiant + compass. And what a total! what a surprise to Grabman! Had it been but a + sixpence, he would have taken it; but to grasp sovereigns by the handful, + it was too much for him; and as he rose, he positively laughed, from a + sense of fun. + </p> + <p> + But amongst his booty there was found one thing that specially moved his + mirth: it was a child’s coral, with its little bells. Who could have given + Beck such a bauble, or how Beck could have refrained from turning it into + money, would have been a fit matter for speculation. But it was not that + at which Grabman chuckled; he laughed, first because it was an emblem of + the utter childishness and folly of the creature he was leaving penniless, + and secondly, because it furnished his ready wit with a capital + contrivance to shift Beck’s indignation from his own shoulders to a party + more liable to suspicion. He left the coral on the floor near the bed, + stole down the ladder, reached his own room, took up his brief-bag, locked + his door, slipped the key in the rat-hole, where the trusty, plundered + Beck alone could find it, and went boldly downstairs; passing successively + the doors within which still stormed the resurrection-man, still wailed + the child, still shrieked the Irish shrew, he paused at the ground-floor + occupied by Bill the cracksman and his long-fingered, slender, quick-eyed + imps, trained already to pass through broken window-panes, on their + precocious progress to the hulks. + </p> + <p> + The door was open, and gave a pleasant sight of the worthy family within. + Bill himself, a stout-looking fellow with a florid, jolly countenance, and + a pipe in his mouth, was sitting at his window, with his brawny legs + lolling on a table covered with the remains of a very tolerable breakfast. + Four small Bills were employed in certain sports which, no doubt, + according to the fashionable mode of education, instilled useful lessons + under the artful guise of playful amusement. Against the wall, at one + corner of the room, was affixed a row of bells, from which were suspended + exceedingly tempting apples by slender wires. Two of the boys were engaged + in the innocent entertainment of extricating the apples without + occasioning any alarm from the bells; a third was amusing himself at a + table, covered with mock rings and trinkets, in a way that seemed really + surprising; with the end of a finger, dipped probably in some glutinous + matter, he just touched one of the gewgaws, and lo, it vanished!—vanished + so magically that the quickest eye could scarcely trace whither; sometimes + up a cuff, sometimes into a shoe,—here, there, anywhere, except back + again upon the table. The fourth, an urchin apparently about five years + old,—he might be much younger, judging from his stunted size; + somewhat older, judging from the vicious acuteness of his face,—on + the floor under his father’s chair, was diving his little hand into the + paternal pockets in search for a marble sportively hidden in those + capacious recesses. On the rising geniuses around him Bill the cracksman + looked, and his father’s heart was proud. Pausing at the threshold, + Grabman looked in and said cheerfully, “Good-day to you; good-day to you + all, my little dears.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Grabman,” said Bill, rising, and making a bow,—for Bill valued + himself much on his politeness,—“come to blow a cloud, eh? Bob,” + this to the eldest born, “manners, sir; wipe your nose, and set a chair + for the gent.” + </p> + <p> + “Many thanks to you, Bill, but I can’t stay now; I have a long journey to + take. But, bless my soul, how stupid I am! I have forgotten my + clothes-brush. I knew there was some thing on my mind all the way I was + coming downstairs. I was saying, ‘Grabman, there is something forgotten! + ‘” + </p> + <p> + “I know what that ‘ere feelin’ is,” said Bill, thoughtfully; “I had it + myself the night afore last; and sure enough, when I got to the ——. + But that’s neither here nor there. Bob, run upstairs and fetch down Mr. + Grabman’s clothes-brush. ‘T is the least you can do for a gent who saved + your father from the fate of them ‘ere innocent apples. Your fist, + Grabman. I have a heart in my buzzom; cut me open, and you will find there + `Halibi, and Grabman!’ Give Bob your key.” + </p> + <p> + “The brush is not in my room,” answered Grabman; “it is at the top of the + house, up the ladder, in Beck’s loft,—Beck, the sweeper. The stupid + dog always keeps it there, and forgot to give it me. Sorry to occasion my + friend Bob so much trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “Bob has a soul above trouble; his father’s heart beats in his buzzom. + Bob, track the dancers. Up like a lark, and down like a dump.” + </p> + <p> + Bob grinned, made a mow at Mr. Grabman, and scampered up the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “You never attends our free-and-easy,” said Bill; “but we toasts you with + three times three, and up standing. ‘T is a hungrateful world! But some + men has a heart; and to those who has a heart, Grabman is a trump!” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure, whenever I can do you a service, you may reckon on me. + Meanwhile, if you could get that cursed bullying fellow who lives under me + to be a little more civil, you would oblige me.” + </p> + <p> + “Under you? No. 7? No. 7, is it? Grabman, h-am I a man? Is this a h-arm, + and this a bunch of fives? I dares do all that does become a man; but No. + 7 is a body-snatcher! No. 7 has bullied me, and I bore it! No. 7 might + whop me, and this h-arm would let him whop! He lives with graves and + churchyards and stiff ‘uns, that damnable No. 7! Ask some’at else, + Grabman. I dares not touch No. 7 any more than the ghostesses.” + </p> + <p> + Grabman sneered as he saw that Bill, stout rogue as he was, turned pale + while he spoke; but at that moment Bob reappeared with the clothes-brush, + which the ex-attorney thrust into his pocket, and shaking Bill by the + hand, and patting Bob on the head, he set out on his journey. + </p> + <p> + Bill reseated himself, muttering, “Bully a body-snatcher! Drot that + Grabman, does he want to get rid of poor Bill?” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Bob exhibited slyly, to his second brother, the sight of Beck’s + stolen coral. The children took care not to show it to their father. They + were already inspired by the laudable ambition to set up in business on + their own account. + </p> + <p> + <a name="Blink2HCH0018" id="Blink2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. PERCIVAL VISITS LUCRETIA. + </h2> + <p> + Having once ascertained the house in which Helen lived, it was no + difficult matter for St. John to learn the name of the guardian whom Beck + had supposed to be her mother. No common delight mingled with Percival’s + amaze when in that name he recognized one borne by his own kinswoman. Very + little indeed of the family history was known to him. Neither his father + nor his mother ever willingly conversed of the fallen heiress,—it + was a subject which the children had felt to be proscribed; but in the + neighbourhood, Percival had of course heard some mention of Lucretia as + the haughty and accomplished Miss Clavering, who had, to the astonishment + of all, stooped to a mesalliance with her uncle’s French librarian. That + her loss of the St. John property, the succession of Percival’s father, + were unexpected by the villagers and squires around, and perhaps set down + to the caprice of Sir Miles, or to an intellect impaired by apoplectic + attacks, it was not likely that he should have heard. The rich have the + polish of their education, and the poor that instinctive tact, so + wonderful amongst the agricultural peasantry, to prevent such unmannerly + disclosures or unwelcome hints; and both by rich and poor, the Vernon St. + Johns were too popular and respected for wanton allusions to subjects + calculated to pain them. All, therefore, that Percival knew of his + relation was that she had resided from infancy with Sir Miles; that after + their uncle’s death she had married an inferior in rank, of the name of + Dalibard, and settled abroad; that she was a person of peculiar manners, + and, he had heard somewhere, of rare gifts. He had been unable to learn + the name of the young lady staying with Madame Dalibard; he had learned + only that she went by some other name, and was not the daughter of the + lady who rented the house. Certainly it was possible that this last might + not be his kinswoman, after all. The name, though strange to English ears, + and not common in France, was no sufficient warrant for Percival’s high + spirits at the thought that he had now won legitimate and regular access + to the house; still, it allowed him to call, it furnished a fair excuse + for a visit. + </p> + <p> + How long he was at his toilet that day, poor boy! How sedulously, with + comb and brush, he sought to smooth into straight precision that luxuriant + labyrinth of jetty curls, which had never cost him a thought before! Gil + Blas says that the toilet is a pleasure to the young, though a labour to + the old; Percival St. John’s toilet was no pleasure to him that anxious + morning. + </p> + <p> + At last he tore himself, dissatisfied and desperate, from the glass, + caught his hat and his whip, threw himself on his horse, and rode, at + first very fast, and at last very slowly, to the old, decayed, shabby, + neglected house that lay hid, like the poverty of fallen pride, amidst the + trim villas and smart cottages of fair and flourishing Brompton. + </p> + <p> + The same servant who had opened the gate to Ardworth appeared to his + summons, and after eying him for some moments with a listless, stupid + stare, said: “You’ll be after some mistake!” and turned away. + </p> + <p> + “Stop, stop!” cried Percival, trying to intrude himself through the gate; + but the servant blocked up the entrance sturdily. “It is no mistake at + all, my good lady. I have come to see Madame Dalibard, my—my + relation!” + </p> + <p> + “Your relation!” and again the woman stared at Percival with a look + through the dull vacancy of which some distrust was dimly perceptible. + “Bide a bit there, and give us your name.” + </p> + <p> + Percival gave his card to the servant with his sweetest and most + persuasive smile. She took it with one hand, and with the other turned the + key in the gate, leaving Percival outside. It was five minutes before she + returned; and she then, with the same prim, smileless expression of + countenance, opened the gate and motioned him to follow. + </p> + <p> + The kind-hearted boy sighed as he cast a glance at the desolate and + poverty-stricken appearance of the house, and thought within himself: “Ah, + pray Heaven she may be my relation; and then I shall have the right to + find her and that sweet girl a very different home!” The old woman threw + open the drawing-room door, and Percival was in the presence of his + deadliest foe! The armchair was turned towards the entrance, and from + amidst the coverings that hid the form, the remarkable countenance of + Madame Dalibard emerged, sharp and earnest, directly fronting the + intruder. + </p> + <p> + “So,” she said slowly, and, as it were, devouring him with her keen, + steadfast eyes,—“so you are Percival St. John! Welcome! I did not + know that we should ever meet. I have not sought you, you seek me! Strange—yes, + strange—that the young and the rich should seek the suffering and + the poor!” + </p> + <p> + Surprised and embarrassed by this singular greeting, Percival halted + abruptly in the middle of the room; and there was something inexpressibly + winning in his shy, yet graceful confusion. It seemed, with silent + eloquence, to apologize and to deprecate. And when, in his silvery voice, + scarcely yet tuned to the fulness of manhood, he said feelingly, “Forgive + me, madam, but my mother is not in England,” the excuse evinced such + delicacy of idea, so exquisite a sense of high breeding, that the calm + assurance of worldly ease could not have more attested the chivalry of the + native gentleman. + </p> + <p> + “I have nothing to forgive, Mr. St. John,” said Lucretia, with a softened + manner. “Pardon me rather that my infirmities do not allow me to rise to + receive you. This seat,—here,—next to me. You have a strong + likeness to your father.” + </p> + <p> + Percival received this last remark as a compliment, and bowed. Then, as he + lifted his ingenuous brow, he took for the first time a steady view of his + new-found relation. The peculiarities of Lucretia’s countenance in youth + had naturally deepened with middle age. The contour, always too sharp and + pronounced, was now strong and bony as a man’s; the line between the + eyebrows was hollowed into a furrow. The eye retained its old uneasy, + sinister, sidelong glance, or at rare moments (as when Percival entered), + its searching penetration and assured command; but the eyelids themselves, + red and injected, as with grief or vigil, gave something haggard and wild, + whether to glance or gaze. Despite the paralysis of the frame, the face, + though pale and thin, showed no bodily decay. A vigour surpassing the + strength of woman might still be seen in the play of the bold muscles, the + firmness of the contracted lips. What physicians call “vitality,” and + trace at once (if experienced) on the physiognomy as the prognostic of + long life, undulated restlessly in every aspect of the face, every + movement of those thin, nervous hands, which, contrasting the rest of that + motionless form, never seemed to be at rest. The teeth were still white + and regular, as in youth; and when they shone out in speaking, gave a + strange, unnatural freshness to a face otherwise so worn. + </p> + <p> + As Percival gazed, and, while gazing, saw those wandering eyes bent down, + and yet felt they watched him, a thrill almost of fear shot through his + heart. Nevertheless, so much more impressionable was he to charitable and + trustful than to suspicious and timid emotions that when Madame Dalibard, + suddenly looking up and shaking her head gently, said, “You see but a sad + wreck, young kinsman,” all those instincts, which Nature itself seemed to + dictate for self-preservation, vanished into heavenly tenderness and pity. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he said, rising, and pressing one of those deadly hands in both his + own, while tears rose to his eyes,—“Ah! since you call me kinsman, I + have all a kinsman’s privileges. You must have the best advice, the most + skilful surgeons. Oh, you will recover; you must not despond.” + </p> + <p> + Lucretia’s lips moved uneasily. This kindness took her by surprise. She + turned desperately away from the human gleam that shot across the + sevenfold gloom of her soul. “Do not think of me,” she said, with a forced + smile; “it is my peculiarity not to like allusion to myself, though this + time I provoked it. Speak to me of the old cedar-trees at Laughton,—do + they stand still? You are the master of Laughton now! It is a noble + heritage!” + </p> + <p> + Then St. John, thinking to please her, talked of the old manor-house, + described the improvements made by his father, spoke gayly of those which + he himself contemplated; and as he ran on, Lucretia’s brow, a moment + ruffled, grew smooth and smoother, and the gloom settled back upon her + soul. + </p> + <p> + All at once she interrupted him. “How did you discover me? Was it through + Mr. Varney? I bade him not mention me: yet how else could you learn?” As + she spoke, there was an anxious trouble in her tone, which increased while + she observed that St. John looked confused. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” he began hesitatingly, and brushing his hat with his hand, “why—perhaps + you may have heard from the—that is—I think there is a young + ——. Ah, it is you, it is you! I see you once again!” And + springing up, he was at the side of Helen, who at that instant had entered + the room, and now, her eyes downcast, her cheeks blushing, her breast + gently heaving, heard, but answered not that passionate burst of joy. + </p> + <p> + Startled, Madame Dalibard (her hands firmly grasping the sides of her + chair) contemplated the two. She had heard nothing, guessed nothing of + their former meeting. All that had passed before between them was unknown + to her. Yet there was evidence unmistakable, conclusive: the son of her + despoiler loved the daughter of her rival; and—if the virgin heart + speaks by the outward sign—those downcast eyes, those blushing + cheeks, that heaving breast, told that he did not love in vain! + </p> + <p> + Before her lurid and murderous gaze, as if to defy her, the two inheritors + of a revenge unglutted by the grave stood, united mysteriously together. + Up, from the vast ocean of her hate, rose that poor isle of love; there, + unconscious of the horror around them, the victims found their footing! + How beautiful at that hour their youth; their very ignorance of their own + emotions; their innocent gladness; their sweet trouble! The fell gazer + drew a long breath of fiendlike complacency and glee, and her hands opened + wide, and then slowly closed, as if she felt them in her grasp. + </p> + <p> + <a name="Blink2HCH0019" id="Blink2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. THE ROSE BENEATH THE UPAS. + </h2> + <p> + And from that day Percival had his privileged entry into Madame Dalibard’s + house. The little narrative of the circumstances connected with his first + meeting with Helen, partly drawn from Percival, partly afterwards from + Helen (with blushing and faltered excuses from the latter for not having + mentioned before an incident that might, perhaps needlessly, vex or alarm + her aunt in so delicate a state of health), was received by Lucretia with + rare graciousness. The connection, not only between herself and Percival, + but between Percival and Helen, was allowed and even dwelt upon by Madame + Dalibard as a natural reason for permitting the artless intimacy which + immediately sprang up between these young persons. She permitted Percival + to call daily, to remain for hours, to share in their simple meals, to + wander alone with Helen in the garden, assist her to bind up the ragged + flowers, and sit by her in the old ivy-grown arbour when their work was + done. She affected to look upon them both as children, and to leave to + them that happy familiarity which childhood only sanctions, and compared + to which the affection of maturer years seems at once coarse and cold. + </p> + <p> + As they grew more familiar, the differences and similarities in their + characters came out, and nothing more delightful than the harmony into + which even the contrasts blended ever invited the guardian angel to pause + and smile. As flowers in some trained parterre relieve each other, now + softening, now heightening, each several hue, till all unite in one + concord of interwoven beauty, so these two blooming natures, brought + together, seemed, where varying still, to melt and fuse their affluences + into one wealth of innocence and sweetness. Both had a native buoyancy and + cheerfulness of spirit, a noble trustfulness in others, a singular candour + and freshness of mind and feeling. But beneath the gayety of Helen there + was a soft and holy under-stream of thoughtful melancholy, a high and + religious sentiment, that vibrated more exquisitely to the subtle + mysteries of creation, the solemn unison between the bright world without + and the grave destinies of that world within (which is an imperishable + soul), than the lighter and more vivid youthfulness of Percival had yet + conceived. In him lay the germs of the active mortal who might win + distinction in the bold career we run upon the surface of the earth. In + her there was that finer and more spiritual essence which lifts the poet + to the golden atmosphere of dreams, and reveals in glimpses to the saint + the choral Populace of Heaven. We do not say that Helen would ever have + found the utterance of the poet, that her reveries, undefined and + unanalyzed, could have taken the sharp, clear form of words; for to the + poet practically developed and made manifest to the world, many other + gifts besides the mere poetic sense are needed,—stern study, and + logical generalization of scattered truths, and patient observation of the + characters of men, and the wisdom that comes from sorrow and passion, and + a sage’s experience of things actual, embracing the dark secrets of human + infirmity and crime. But despite all that has been said in disparagement + or disbelief of “mute, inglorious Miltons,” we maintain that there are + natures in which the divinest element of poetry exists, the purer and more + delicate for escaping from bodily form and evaporating from the coarser + vessels into which the poet, so called, must pour the ethereal fluid. + There is a certain virtue within us, comprehending our subtlest and + noblest emotions, which is poetry while untold, and grows pale and poor in + proportion as we strain it into poems. Nay, it may be said of this airy + property of our inmost being that, more or less, it departs from us + according as we give it forth into the world, even, as only by the loss of + its particles, the rose wastes its perfume on the air. So this more + spiritual sensibility dwelt in Helen as the latent mesmerism in water, as + the invisible fairy in an enchanted ring. It was an essence or divinity, + shrined and shrouded in herself, which gave her more intimate and vital + union with all the influences of the universe, a companion to her + loneliness, an angel hymning low to her own listening soul. This made her + enjoyment of Nature, in its merest trifles, exquisite and profound; this + gave to her tenderness of heart all the delicious and sportive variety + love borrows from imagination; this lifted her piety above the mere forms + of conventional religion, and breathed into her prayers the ecstasy of the + saint. + </p> + <p> + But Helen was not the less filled with the sweet humanities of her age and + sex; her very gravity was tinged with rosy light, as a western cloud with + the sun. She had sportiveness and caprice, and even whim, as the + butterfly, though the emblem of the soul, still flutters wantonly over + every wild-flower, and expands its glowing wings on the sides of the + beaten road. And with a sense of weakness in the common world (growing out + of her very strength in nobler atmospheres), she leaned the more + trustfully on the strong arm of her young adorer, not fancying that the + difference between them arose from superiority in her; but rather as a + bird, once tamed, flies at the sight of the hawk to the breast of its + owner, so from each airy flight into the loftier heaven, let but the + thought of danger daunt her wing, and, as in a more powerful nature, she + took refuge on that fostering heart. + </p> + <p> + The love between these children—for so, if not literally in years, + in their newness to all that steals the freshness and the dew from maturer + life they may be rightly called—was such as befitted those whose + souls have not forfeited the Eden. It was more like the love of fairies + than of human beings. They showed it to each other innocently and frankly; + yet of love as we of the grosser creation call it, with its impatient + pains and burning hopes, they never spoke nor dreamed. It was an + unutterable, ecstatic fondness, a clinging to each other in thought, + desire, and heart, a joy more than mortal in each other’s presence; yet, + in parting, not that idle and empty sorrow which unfits the weak for the + homelier demands on time and life, and this because of the wondrous trust + in themselves and in the future, which made a main part of their + credulous, happy natures. Neither felt fear nor jealousy, or if jealousy + came, it was the pretty, childlike jealousies which have no sting,—of + the bird, if Helen listened to its note too long; of the flower, if + Percival left Helen’s side too quickly to tie up its drooping petals or + refresh its dusty leaves. Close by the stir of the great city, with all + its fret and chafe and storm of life, in the desolate garden of that + sombre house, and under the withering eyes of relentless Crime, revived + the Arcady of old,—the scene vocal to the reeds of idyllist and + shepherd; and in the midst of the iron Tragedy, harmlessly and + unconsciously arose the strain of the Pastoral Music. + </p> + <p> + It would be a vain effort to describe the state of Lucretia’s mind while + she watched the progress of the affection she had favoured, and gazed on + the spectacle of the fearless happiness she had promoted. The image of a + felicity at once so great and so holy wore to her gloomy sight the aspect + of a mocking Fury. It rose in contrast to her own ghastly and + crime-stained life; it did not upbraid her conscience with guilt so loudly + as it scoffed at her intellect for folly. These children, playing on the + verge of life, how much more of life’s true secret did they already know + than she, with all her vast native powers and wasted realms of blackened + and charred experience! For what had she studied, and schemed, and + calculated, and toiled, and sinned? As a conqueror stricken unto death + would render up all the regions vanquished by his sword for one drop of + water to his burning lips, how gladly would she have given all the + knowledge bought with blood and fire, to feel one moment as those children + felt! Then, from out her silent and grim despair, stood forth, fierce and + prominent, the great fiend, Revenge. + </p> + <p> + By a monomania not uncommon to those who have made self the centre of + being, Lucretia referred to her own sullen history of wrong and passion + all that bore analogy to it, however distant. She had never been enabled, + without an intolerable pang of hate and envy, to contemplate courtship and + love in others. From the rudest shape to the most refined, that + master-passion in the existence, at least of woman,—reminding her of + her own brief episode of human tenderness and devotion,—opened every + wound and wrung every fibre of a heart that, while crime had indurated it + to most emotions, memory still left morbidly sensitive to one. But if + tortured by the sight of love in those who had had no connection with her + fate, who stood apart from her lurid orbit and were gazed upon only afar + (as a lost soul, from the abyss, sees the gleam of angels’ wings within + some planet it never has explored), how ineffably more fierce and + intolerable was the wrath that seized her when, in her haunted + imagination, she saw all Susan’s rapture at the vows of Mainwaring + mantling in Helen’s face! All that might have disarmed a heart as hard, + but less diseased, less preoccupied by revenge, only irritated more the + consuming hate of that inexorable spirit. Helen’s seraphic purity, her + exquisite, overflowing kindness, ever forgetting self, her airy + cheerfulness, even her very moods of melancholy, calm and seemingly + causeless as they were, perpetually galled and blistered that writhing, + preternatural susceptibility which is formed by the consciousness of + infamy, the dreary egotism of one cut off from the charities of the world, + with whom all mirth is sardonic convulsion, all sadness rayless and + unresigned despair. + </p> + <p> + Of the two, Percival inspired her with feelings the most akin to humanity. + For him, despite her bitter memories of his father, she felt something of + compassion, and shrank from the touch of his frank hand in remorse. She + had often need to whisper to herself that his life was an obstacle to the + heritage of the son of whom, as we have seen, she was in search, and whom, + indeed, she believed she had already found in John Ardworth; that it was + not in wrath and in vengeance that this victim was to be swept into the + grave, but as an indispensable sacrifice to a cherished object, a + determined policy. As, in the studies of her youth, she had adopted the + Machiavelism of ancient State-craft as a rule admissible in private life, + so she seemed scarcely to admit as a crime that which was but the removal + of a barrier between her aim and her end. Before she had become personally + acquainted with Percival she had rejected all occasion to know him. She + had suffered Varney to call upon him as the old protege of Sir Miles, and + to wind into his intimacy, meaning to leave to her accomplice, when the + hour should arrive, the dread task of destruction. This not from + cowardice, for Gabriel had once rightly described her when he said that if + she lived with shadows she could quell them, but simply because, more + intellectually unsparing than constitutionally cruel (save where the old + vindictive memories thoroughly unsexed her), this was a victim whose pangs + she desired not to witness, over whose fate it was no luxury to gloat and + revel. She wished not to see nor to know him living, only to learn that he + was no more, and that Helen alone stood between Laughton and her son. Now + that he had himself, as if with predestined feet, crossed her threshold, + that he, like Helen, had delivered himself into her toils, the hideous + guilt, before removed from her hands, became haunting, fronted her face to + face, and filled her with a superstitious awe. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, her outward manner to both her meditated victims, if moody and + fitful at times, was not such as would have provoked suspicion even in + less credulous hearts. From the first entry of Helen under her roof she + had been formal and measured in her welcome,—kept her, as it were, + aloof, and affected no prodigal superfluity of dissimulation; but she had + never been positively harsh or unkind in word or in deed, and had coldly + excused herself for the repulsiveness of her manner. + </p> + <p> + “I am irritable,” she said, “from long suffering, I am unsocial from + habitual solitude; do not expect from me the fondness and warmth that + should belong to our relationship. Do not harass yourself with vain + solicitude for one whom all seeming attention but reminds more painfully + of infirmity, and who, even thus stricken down, would be independent of + all cares not bought and paid for. Be satisfied to live here in all + reasonable liberty, to follow your own habits and caprices uncontrolled. + Regard me but as a piece of necessary furniture. You can never displease + me but when you notice that I live and suffer.” + </p> + <p> + If Helen wept bitterly at these hard words when first spoken, it was not + with anger that her loving heart was so thrown back upon herself. On the + contrary, she became inspired with a compassion so great that it took the + character of reverence. She regarded this very coldness as a mournful + dignity. She felt grateful that one who could thus dispense with, should + yet have sought her. She had heard her mother say that she had been under + great obligations to Lucretia; and now, when she was forbidden to repay + them even by a kiss on those weary eyelids, a daughter’s hand to that + sleepless pillow; when she saw that the barrier first imposed was + irremovable, that no time diminished the distance her aunt set between + them, that the least approach to the tenderness of service beyond the most + casual offices really seemed but to fret those excitable nerves, and fever + the hand that she ventured timorously to clasp,—she retreated into + herself with a sad amaze that increased her pity and heightened her + respect. To her, love seemed so necessary a thing in the helplessness of + human life, even when blessed with health and youth, that this rejection + of all love in one so bowed and crippled, struck her imagination as + something sublime in its dreary grandeur and stoic pride of independence. + She regarded it as of old a tender and pious nun would have regarded the + asceticism of some sanctified recluse,—as Theresa (had she lived in + the same age) might have regarded Saint Simeon Stylites existing aloft + from human sympathy on the roofless summit of his column of stone; and + with this feeling she sought to inspire Percival. He had the heart to + enter into her compassion, but not the imagination to sympathize with her + reverence. Even the repugnant awe that he had first conceived for Madame + Dalibard, so bold was he by temperament, he had long since cast off; he + recognized only the moroseness and petulance of an habitual invalid, and + shook playfully his glossy curls when Helen, with her sweet seriousness, + insisted on his recognizing more. + </p> + <p> + To this house few, indeed, were the visitors admitted. The Miverses, whom + the benevolent officiousness of Mr. Fielden had originally sent thither to + see their young kinswoman, now and then came to press Helen to join some + party to the theatre or Vauxhall, or a picnic in Richmond Park; but when + they found their overtures, which had at first been politely accepted by + Madame Dalibard, were rejected, they gradually ceased their visits, + wounded and indignant. + </p> + <p> + Certain it was that Lucretia had at one time eagerly caught at their + well-meant civilities to Helen,—now she as abruptly declined them. + Why? It would be hard to plumb into all the black secrets of that heart. + It would have been but natural to her, who shrank from dooming Helen to no + worse calamity than a virgin’s grave, to have designed to throw her into + such uncongenial guidance, amidst all the manifold temptations of the + corrupt city,—to have suffered her to be seen and to be ensnared by + those gallants ever on the watch for defenceless beauty; and to contrast + with their elegance of mien and fatal flatteries the grossness of the + companions selected for her, and the unloving discomfort of the home into + which she had been thrown. But now that St. John had appeared, that + Helen’s heart and fancy were steeled alike against more dangerous + temptation, the object to be obtained from the pressing courtesy of Mrs. + Mivers existed no more. The vengeance flowed into other channels. + </p> + <p> + The only other visitors at the house were John Ardworth and Gabriel + Varney. + </p> + <p> + Madame Dalibard watched vigilantly the countenance and manner of Ardworth + when, after presenting him to Percival, she whispered: “I am glad you + assured me as to your sentiments for Helen. She had found there the lover + you wished for her,—‘gay and handsome as herself.’” + </p> + <p> + And in the sudden paleness that overspread Ardworth’s face, in his + compressed lips and convulsive start, she read with unspeakable rage the + untold secret of his heart, till the rage gave way to complacency at the + thought that the last insult to her wrongs was spared her,—that her + son (as son she believed he was) could not now, at least, be the + successful suitor of her loathed sister’s loathed child. Her discovery, + perhaps, confirmed her in her countenance to Percival’s progressive + wooing, and half reconciled her to the pangs it inflicted on herself. + </p> + <p> + At the first introduction Ardworth had scarcely glanced at Percival. He + regarded him but as the sleek flutterer in the sunshine of fortune. And + for the idle, the gay, the fair, the well-dressed and wealthy, the sturdy + workman of his own rough way felt something of the uncharitable disdain + which the laborious have-nots too usually entertain for the prosperous + haves. But the moment the unwelcome intelligence of Madame Dalibard was + conveyed to him, the smooth-faced boy swelled into dignity and importance. + </p> + <p> + Yet it was not merely as a rival that that strong, manly heart, after the + first natural agony, regarded Percival. No, he looked upon him less with + anger than with interest,—as the one in whom Helen’s happiness was + henceforth to be invested. And to Madame Dalibard’s astonishment,—for + this nature was wholly new to her experience,—she saw him, even in + that first interview, composing his rough face to smiles, smoothing his + bluff, imperious accents into courtesy, listening patiently, watching + benignly, and at last thrusting his large hand frankly forth, griping + Percival’s slender fingers in his own; and then, with an indistinct + chuckle that seemed half laugh and half groan, as if he did not dare to + trust himself further, he made his wonted unceremonious nod, and strode + hurriedly from the room. + </p> + <p> + But he came again and again, almost daily, for about a fortnight. + Sometimes, without entering the house, he would join the young people in + the garden, assist them with awkward hands in their playful work on the + garden, or sit with them in the ivied bower; and warming more and more + each time he came, talk at last with the cordial frankness of an elder + brother. There was no disguise in this; he began to love Percival,—what + would seem more strange to the superficial, to admire him. Genius has a + quick perception of the moral qualities; genius, which, differing thus + from mere talent, is more allied to the heart than to the head, + sympathizes genially with goodness. Ardworth respected that young, + ingenuous, unpolluted mind; he himself felt better and purer in its + atmosphere. Much of the affection he cherished for Helen passed thus + beautifully and nobly into his sentiments for the one whom Helen not + unworthily preferred. And they grew so fond of him,—as the young and + gentle ever will grow fond of genius, however rough, once admitted to its + companionship! + </p> + <p> + Percival by this time had recalled to his mind where he had first seen + that strong-featured, dark-browed countenance, and he gayly reminded + Ardworth of his discourtesy, on the brow of the hill which commanded the + view of London. That reminiscence made his new friend writhe; for then, + amidst all his ambitious visions of the future, he had seen Helen in the + distance,—the reward of every labour, the fairest star in his + horizon. But he strove stoutly against the regret of the illusion lost; + the vivendi causae were left him still, and for the nymph that had glided + from his clasp, he clung at least to the laurel that was left in her + place. In the folds of his robust fortitude Ardworth thus wrapped his + secret. Neither of his young playmates suspected it. He would have + disdained himself if he had so poisoned their pleasure. That he suffered + when alone, much and bitterly, is not to be denied; but in that masculine + and complete being, Love took but its legitimate rank amidst the passions + and cares of man. It soured no existence, it broke no heart; the wind + swept some blossoms from the bough, and tossed wildly the agitated + branches from root to summit, but the trunk stood firm. + </p> + <p> + In some of these visits to Madame Dalibard’s, Ardworth renewed with her + the more private conversation which had so unsettled his past convictions + as to his birth, and so disturbed the calm, strong currents of his mind. + He was chiefly anxious to learn what conjectures Madame Dalibard had + formed as to his parentage, and what ground there was for belief that he + was near in blood to herself, or that he was born to a station less + dependent on continuous exertion; but on these points the dark sibyl + preserved an obstinate silence. She was satisfied with the hints she had + already thrown out, and absolutely refused to say more till better + authorized by the inquiries she had set on foot. Artfully she turned from + these topics of closer and more household interest to those on which she + had previously insisted, connected with the general knowledge of mankind, + and the complicated science of practical life. To fire his genius, wing + his energies, inflame his ambition above that slow, laborious drudgery to + which he had linked the chances of his career, and which her fiery and + rapid intellect was wholly unable to comprehend—save as a waste of + life for uncertain and distant objects—became her task. And she saw + with delight that Ardworth listened to her more assentingly than he had + done at first. In truth, the pain shut within his heart, the conflict + waged keenly between his reason and his passion, unfitted him for the time + for mere mechanical employment, in which his genius could afford him no + consolation. Now, genius is given to man, not only to enlighten others, + but to comfort as well as to elevate himself. Thus, in all the sorrows of + actual existence, the man is doubly inclined to turn to his genius for + distraction. Harassed in this world of action, he knocks at the gate of + that world of idea or fancy which he is privileged to enter; he escapes + from the clay to the spirit. And rarely, till some great grief comes, does + the man in whom the celestial fire is lodged know all the gift of which he + is possessed. At last Ardworth’s visits ceased abruptly. He shut himself + up once more in his chambers; but the law books were laid aside. + </p> + <p> + Varney, who generally contrived to call when Ardworth was not there, + seldom interrupted the lovers in their little paradise of the garden; but + he took occasion to ripen and cement his intimacy with Percival. Sometimes + he walked or (if St. John had his cabriolet) drove home and dined with + him, tete-a-tete, in Curzon Street; and as he made Helen his chief subject + of conversation, Percival could not but esteem him amongst the most + agreeable of men. With Helen, when Percival was not there, Varney held + some secret conferences,—secret even from Percival. Two or three + times, before the hour in which Percival was accustomed to come, they had + been out together; and Helen’s face looked more cheerful than usual on + their return. It was not surprising that Gabriel Varney, so displeasing to + a man like Ardworth, should have won little less favour with Helen than + with Percival; for, to say nothing of an ease and suavity of manner which + stole into the confidence of those in whom to confide was a natural + propensity, his various acquisitions and talents, imposing from the + surface over which they spread, and the glitter which they made, had an + inevitable effect upon a mind so susceptible as Helen’s to admiration for + art and respect for knowledge. But what chiefly conciliated her to Varney, + whom she regarded, moreover, as her aunt’s most intimate friend, was that + she was persuaded he was unhappy, and wronged by the world of fortune. + Varney had a habit of so representing himself,—of dwelling with a + bitter eloquence, which his natural malignity made forcible, on the + injustice of the world to superior intellect. He was a great accuser of + Fate. It is the illogical weakness of some evil natures to lay all their + crimes, and the consequences of crime, upon Destiny. There was a heat, a + vigour, a rush of words, and a readiness of strong, if trite, imagery in + what Varney said that deceived the young into the monstrous error that he + was an enthusiast,—misanthropical, perhaps, but only so from + enthusiasm. How could Helen, whose slightest thought, when a star broke + forth from the cloud, or a bird sung suddenly from the copse, had more of + wisdom and of poetry than all Varney’s gaudy and painted seemings ever + could even mimic,—how could she be so deceived? Yet so it was. Here + stood a man whose youth she supposed had been devoted to refined and + elevating pursuits, gifted, neglected, disappointed, solitary, and + unhappy. She saw little beyond. You had but to touch her pity to win her + interest and to excite her trust. Of anything further, even had Percival + never existed, she could not have dreamed. It was because a secret and + undefinable repugnance, in the midst of pity, trust, and friendship, put + Varney altogether out of the light of a possible lover, that all those + sentiments were so easily kindled. This repugnance arose not from the + disparity between their years; it was rather that nameless uncongeniality + which does not forbid friendship, but is irreconcilable with love. To do + Varney justice, he never offered to reconcile the two. Not for love did he + secretly confer with Helen; not for love did his heart beat against the + hand which reposed so carelessly on his murderous arm. + </p> + <p> + <a name="Blink2HCH0020" id="Blink2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. THE RATTLE OF THE SNAKE. + </h2> + <p> + The progress of affection between natures like those of Percival and + Helen, favoured by free and constant intercourse, was naturally rapid. It + was scarcely five weeks from the day he had first seen Helen, and he + already regarded her as his plighted bride. During the earlier days of his + courtship, Percival, enamoured and absorbed for the first time in his + life, did not hasten to make his mother the confidante of his happiness. + He had written but twice; and though he said briefly, in the second + letter, that he had discovered two relations, both interesting and one + charming, he had deferred naming them or entering into detail. This not + alone from that indescribable coyness which all have experienced in + addressing even those with whom they are most intimate, in the early, + half-unrevealed, and mystic emotions of first love, but because Lady + Diary’s letters had been so full of her sister’s declining health, of her + own anxieties and fears, that he had shrunk from giving her a new subject + of anxiety; and a confidence full of hope and joy seemed to him unfeeling + and unseasonable. He knew how necessarily uneasy and restless an avowal + that his heart was seriously engaged to one she had never seen, would make + that tender mother, and that his confession would rather add to her cares + than produce sympathy with his transports. But now, feeling impatient for + his mother’s assent to the formal proposals which had become due to Madame + Dalibard and Helen, and taking advantage of the letter last received from + her, which gave more cheering accounts of her sister, and expressed + curiosity for further explanation as to his half disclosure, he wrote at + length, and cleared his breast of all its secrets. It was the same day in + which he wrote this confession and pleaded his cause that we accompany him + to the house of his sweet mistress, and leave him by her side, in the + accustomed garden. Within, Madame Dalibard, whose chair was set by the + window, bent over certain letters, which she took, one by one, from her + desk and read slowly, lifting her eyes from time to time and glancing + towards the young people as they walked, hand in hand, round the small + demesnes, now hid by the fading foliage, now emerging into view. Those + letters were the early love-epistles of William Mainwaring. She had not + recurred to them for years. Perhaps she now felt that food necessary to + the sustainment of her fiendish designs. It was a strange spectacle to see + this being, so full of vital energy, mobile and restless as a serpent, + condemned to that helpless decrepitude, chained to the uneasy seat, not as + in the resigned and passive imbecility of extreme age, but rather as one + whom in the prime of life the rack has broken, leaving the limbs inert, + the mind active, the form as one dead, the heart with superabundant + vigour,—a cripple’s impotence and a Titan’s will! What, in that + dreary imprisonment and amidst the silence she habitually preserved, + passed through the caverns of that breast, one can no more conjecture than + one can count the blasts that sweep and rage through the hollows of + impenetrable rock, or the elements that conflict in the bosom of the + volcano, everlastingly at work. She had read and replaced the letters, and + leaning her cheek on her hand, was gazing vacantly on the wall, when + Varney intruded on that dismal solitude. + </p> + <p> + He closed the door after him with more than usual care; and drawing a seat + close to Lucretia, said, “Belle-mere, the time has arrived for you to act; + my part is wellnigh closed.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” said Lucretia, wearily, “what is the news you bring?” + </p> + <p> + “First,” replied Varney, and as he spoke, he shut the window, as if his + whisper could possibly be heard without,—“first, all this business + connected with Helen is at length arranged. You know when, agreeably to + your permission, I first suggested to her, as it were casually, that you + were so reduced in fortune that I trembled to regard your future; that you + had years ago sacrificed nearly half your pecuniary resources to maintain + her parents,—she of herself reminded me that she was entitled, when + of age, to a sum far exceeding all her wants, and—” + </p> + <p> + “That I might be a pensioner on the child of William Mainwaring and Susan + Mivers,” interrupted Lucretia. “I know that, and thank her not. Pass on.” + </p> + <p> + “And you know, too, that in the course of my conversation with the girl I + let out also incidentally that, even so, you were dependent on the chances + of her life; that if she died (and youth itself is mortal) before she was + of age, the sum left her by her grandfather would revert to her father’s + family; and so, by hints, I drew her on to ask if there was no mode by + which, in case of her death, she might insure subsistence to you. So that + you see the whole scheme was made at her own prompting. I did but, as a + man of business, suggest the means,—an insurance on her life.” + </p> + <p> + “Varney, these details are hateful. I do not doubt that you have done all + to forestall inquiry and elude risk. The girl has insured her life to the + amount of her fortune?” + </p> + <p> + “To that amount only? Pooh! Her death will buy more than that. As no one + single office will insure for more than 5,000 pounds, and as it was easy + to persuade her that such offices were liable to failure, and that it was + usual to insure in several, and for a larger amount than the sum desired, + I got her to enter herself at three of the principal offices. The amount + paid to us on her death will be 15,000 pounds. It will be paid (and here I + have followed the best legal advice) in trust to me for your benefit. + Hence, therefore, even if our researches fail us, if no son of yours can + be found, with sufficient evidence to prove, against the keen interests + and bought advocates of heirs-at-law, the right to Laughton, this girl + will repay us well, will replace what I have taken, at the risk of my + neck, perhaps,—certainly at the risk of the hulks,—from the + capital of my uncle’s legacy, will refund what we have spent on the + inquiry; and the residue will secure to you an independence sufficing for + your wants almost for life, and to me what will purchase with economy,” + and Varney smiled, “a year or so of a gentleman’s idle pleasures. Are you + satisfied thus far?” + </p> + <p> + “She will die happy and innocent,” muttered Lucretia, with the growl of + demoniac disappointment. + </p> + <p> + “Will you wait, then, till my forgery is detected, and I have no power to + buy the silence of the trustees,—wait till I am in prison, and on a + trial for life and death? Reflect, every day, every hour, of delay is + fraught with peril. But if my safety is nothing compared to the refinement + of your revenge, will you wait till Helen marries Percival St. John? You + start! But can you suppose that this innocent love-play will not pass + rapidly to its denouement? It is but yesterday that Percival confided to + me that he should write this very day to his mother, and communicate all + his feelings and his hopes; that he waited but her assent to propose + formally for Helen. Now one of two things must happen. Either this mother, + haughty and vain as lady-mothers mostly are, may refuse consent to her + son’s marriage with the daughter of a disgraced banker and the niece of + that Lucretia Dalibard whom her husband would not admit beneath his roof—” + </p> + <p> + “Hold, sir!” exclaimed Lucretia, haughtily; and amidst all the passions + that darkened her countenance and degraded her soul, some flash of her + ancestral spirit shot across her brow. But it passed quickly, and she + added, with fierce composure, “You are right; go on!” + </p> + <p> + “Either-and pardon me for an insult that comes not from me—either + this will be the case: Lady Mary St. John will hasten back in alarm to + London; she exercises extraordinary control over her son; she may withdraw + him from us altogether, from me as well as you, and the occasion now + presented to us may be lost (who knows?) forever,—or she may be a + weak and fond woman; may be detained in Italy by her sister’s illness; may + be anxious that the last lineal descendant of the St. Johns should marry + betimes, and, moved by her darling’s prayers, may consent at once to the + union. Or a third course, which Percival thinks the most probable, and + which, though most unwelcome to us of all, I had wellnigh forgotten, may + be adopted. She may come to England, and in order to judge her son’s + choice with her own eyes, may withdraw Helen from your roof to hers. At + all events, delays are dangerous,—dangerous, putting aside my + personal interest, and regarding only your own object,—may bring to + our acts new and searching eyes; may cut us off from the habitual presence + either of Percival or Helen, or both; or surround them, at the first + breath of illness, with prying friends and formidable precautions. The + birds now are in our hands. Why then open the cage and bid them fly, in + order to spread the net? This morning all the final documents with the + Insurance Companies are completed. It remains for me but to pay the first + quarterly premiums. For that I think I am prepared, without drawing + further on your hoards or my own scanty resources, which Grabman will take + care to drain fast enough.” + </p> + <p> + “And Percival St. John?” said Madame Dalibard. “We want no idle + sacrifices. If my son be not found, we need not that boy’s ghost amongst + those who haunt us.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely not,” said Varney; “and for my part, he may be more useful to me + alive than dead. There is no insurance on his life, and a rich friend + (credulous greenhorn that he is!) is scarcely of that flock of geese which + it were wise to slay from the mere hope of a golden egg. Percival St. John + is your victim, not mine; not till you give the order would I lift a + finger to harm him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, let him live, unless my son be found to me,” said Madame Dalibard, + almost exultingly,—“let him live to forget yon fair-faced fool, + leaning now, see you, so delightedly on his arm, and fancying eternity in + the hollow vows of love; let him live to wrong and abandon her by + forgetfulness, though even in the grave; to laugh at his boyish dreams,—to + sully her memory in the arms of harlots! Oh, if the dead can suffer, let + him live, that she may feel beyond the grave his inconstancy and his fall. + Methinks that that thought will comfort me if Vincent be no more, and I + stand childless in the world!” + </p> + <p> + “It is so settled, then,” said Varney, ever ready to clinch the business + that promised gold, and relieve his apprehensions of the detection of his + fraud. “And now to your noiseless hands, as soon as may be, I consign the + girl; she has lived long enough!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="Blink2HCH0021" id="Blink2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. LOVE AND INNOCENCE. + </h2> + <p> + During this conference between these execrable and ravening birds of night + and prey, Helen and her boy-lover were thus conversing in the garden; + while the autumn sun—for it was in the second week of October—broke + pleasantly through the yellowing leaves of the tranquil shrubs, and the + flowers, which should have died with the gone summer, still fresh by + tender care, despite the lateness of the season, smiled gratefully as + their light footsteps passed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Helen,” said Percival,—“yes, you will love my mother, for she + is one of those people who seem to attract love, as if it were a property + belonging to them. Even my dog Beau (you know how fond Beau is of me!) + always nestles at her feet when we are at home. I own she has pride, but + it is a pride that never offended any one. You know there are some flowers + that we call proud. The pride of the flower is not more harmless than my + mother’s. But perhaps pride is not the right word,—it is rather the + aversion to anything low or mean, the admiration for everything pure and + high. Ah, how that very pride—if pride it be—will make her + love you, my Helen!” + </p> + <p> + “You need not tell me,” said Helen, smiling seriously, “that I shall love + your mother,—I love her already; nay, from the first moment you said + you had a mother, my heart leaped to her. Your mother,—if ever you + are really jealous, it must be of her! But that she should love me,—that + is what I doubt and fear. For if you were my brother, Percival, I should + be so ambitious for you. A nymph must rise from the stream, a sylphid from + the rose, before I could allow another to steal you from my side. And if I + think I should feel this only as your sister, what can be precious enough + to satisfy a mother?” + </p> + <p> + “You, and you only,” answered Percival, with his blithesome laugh,—“you, + my sweet Helen, much better than nymph or sylphid, about whom, between + ourselves, I never cared three straws, even in a poem. How pleased you + will be with Laughton! Do you know, I was lying awake all last night to + consider what room you would like best for your own? And at last I have + decided. Come, listen,—it opens from the music-gallery that + overhangs the hall. From the window you overlook the southern side of the + park, and catch a view of the lake beyond. There are two niches in the + wall,—one for your piano, one for your favourite books. It is just + large enough to hold four persons with ease,—our mother and myself, + your aunt, whom by that time we shall have petted into good humour; and if + we can coax Ardworth there,—the best good fellow that ever lived,—I + think our party will be complete. By the way, I am uneasy about Ardworth, + it is so long since we have seen him; I have called three times,—nay, + five,—but his odd-looking clerk always swears he is not at home. + Tell me, Helen, now you know him so well,—tell me how I can serve + him? You know, I am so terribly rich (at least, I shall be in a month or + two), I can never get through my money, unless my friends will help me. + And is it not shocking that that noble fellow should be so poor, and yet + suffer me to call him ‘friend,’ as if in friendship one man should want + everything, and the other nothing? Still, I don’t know how to venture to + propose. Come, you understand me, Helen; let us lay our wise heads + together and make him well off, in spite of himself.” + </p> + <p> + It was in this loose boyish talk of Percival that he had found the way, + not only to Helen’s heart, but to her soul. For in this she (grand, + undeveloped poetess!) recognized a nobler poetry than we chain to rhythm,—the + poetry of generous deeds. She yearned to kiss the warm hand she held, and + drew nearer to his side as she answered: “And sometimes, dear, dear + Percival, you wonder why I would rather listen to you than to all Mr. + Varney’s bitter eloquence, or even to my dear cousin’s aspiring ambition. + They talk well, but it is of themselves; while you—” + </p> + <p> + Percival blushed, and checked her. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she said,—“well, to your question. Alas! you know little of + my cousin if you think all our arts could decoy him out of his rugged + independence; and much as I love him, I could not wish it. But do not fear + for him; he is one of those who are born to succeed, and without help.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know that, pretty prophetess?” said Percival, with the + superior air of manhood. “I have seen more of the world than you have, and + I cannot see why Ardworth should succeed, as you call it; or, if so, why + he should succeed less if he swung his hammock in a better berth than that + hole in Gray’s Inn, and would just let me keep him a cab and groom.” + </p> + <p> + Had Percival talked of keeping John Ardworth an elephant and a palaquin, + Helen could not have been more amused. She clapped her little hands in a + delight that provoked Percival, and laughed out loud. Then, seeing her + boy-lover’s lip pouted petulantly, and his brow was overcast, she said, + more seriously,— + </p> + <p> + “Do you not know what it is to feel convinced of something which you + cannot explain? Well, I feel this as to my cousin’s fame and fortunes. + Surely, too, you must feel it, you scarce know why, when he speaks of that + future which seems so dim and so far to me, as of something that belonged + to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Very true, Helen,” said Percival; “he lays it out like the map of his + estate. One can’t laugh when he says so carelessly: ‘At such an age I + shall lead my circuit; at such an age I shall be rich; at such an age I + shall enter parliament; and beyond that I shall look as yet—no + farther.’ And, poor fellow, then he will be forty-three! And in the mean + while to suffer such privations!” + </p> + <p> + “There are no privations to one who lives in the future,” said Helen, with + that noble intuition into lofty natures which at times flashed from her + childish simplicity, foreshadowing what, if Heaven spare her life, her + maturer intellect may develop; “for Ardworth there is no such thing as + poverty. He is as rich in his hopes as we are in—” She stopped + short, blushed, and continued, with downcast looks: “As well might you + pity me in these walks, so dreary without you. I do not live in them, I + live in my thoughts of you.” + </p> + <p> + Her voice trembled with emotion in those last words. She slid from + Percival’s arm, and timidly sat down (and he beside her) on a little mound + under the single chestnut-tree, that threw its shade over the garden. + </p> + <p> + Both were silent for some moments,—Percival, with grateful ecstasy; + Helen, with one of those sudden fits of mysterious melancholy to which her + nature was so subjected. + </p> + <p> + He was the first to speak. “Helen,” he said gravely, “since I have known + you, I feel as if life were a more solemn thing than I ever regarded it + before. It seems to me as if a new and more arduous duty were added to + those for which I was prepared,—a duty, Helen, to become worthy of + you! Will you smile? No, you will not smile if I say I have had my brief + moments of ambition. Sometimes as a boy, with Plutarch in my hand, + stretched idly under the old cedar-trees at Laughton; sometimes as a + sailor, when, becalmed on the Atlantic, and my ears freshly filled with + tales of Collingwood and Nelson, I stole from my comrades and leaned + musingly over the boundless sea. But when this ample heritage passed to + me, when I had no more my own fortunes to make, my own rank to build up, + such dreams became less and less frequent. Is it not true that wealth + makes us contented to be obscure? Yes; I understand, while I speak, why + poverty itself befriends, not cripples, Ardworth’s energies. But since I + have known you, dearest Helen, those dreams return more vividly than ever. + He who claims you should be—must be—something nobler than the + crowd. Helen,”—and he rose by an irresistible and restless impulse,—“I + shall not be contented till you are as proud of your choice as I of mine!” + </p> + <p> + It seemed, as Percival spoke and looked, as if boyhood were cast from him + forever. The unusual weight and gravity of his words, to which his tone + gave even eloquence; the steady flash of his dark eyes; his erect, elastic + form,—all had the dignity of man. Helen gazed on him silently, and + with a heart so full that words would not come, and tears overflowed + instead. + </p> + <p> + That sight sobered him at once; he knelt down beside her, threw his arms + around her,—it was his first embrace,—and kissed the tears + away. + </p> + <p> + “How have I distressed you? Why do you weep?” + </p> + <p> + “Let me weep on, Percival, dear Percival! These tears are like prayers,—they + speak to Heaven—and of you!” + </p> + <p> + A step came noiselessly over the grass, and between the lovers and the + sunlight stood Gabriel Varney. + </p> + <p> + <a name="Blink2HCH0022" id="Blink2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. SUDDEN CELEBRITY AND PATIENT HOPE. + </h2> + <p> + Percival was unusually gloomy and abstracted in his way to town that day, + though Varney was his companion, and in the full play of those animal + spirits which he owed to his unrivalled physical organization and the + obtuseness of his conscience. Seeing, at length, that his gayety did not + communicate itself to Percival, he paused, and looked at him suspiciously. + A falling leaf startles the steed, and a shadow the guilty man. + </p> + <p> + “You are sad, Percival,” he said inquiringly. “What has disturbed you?” + </p> + <p> + “It is nothing,—or, at least, would seem nothing to you,” answered + Percival, with an effort to smile, “for I have heard you laugh at the + doctrine of presentiments. We sailors are more superstitious.” + </p> + <p> + “What presentiment can you possibly entertain?” asked Varney, more + anxiously than Percival could have anticipated. + </p> + <p> + “Presentiments are not so easily defined, Varney. But, in truth, poor + Helen has infected me. Have you not remarked that, gay as she habitually + is, some shadow comes over her so suddenly that one cannot trace the + cause?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Percival,” said Varney, after a short pause, “what you say does + not surprise me. It would be false kindness to conceal from you that I + have heard Madame Dalibard say that her mother was, when about her age, + threatened with consumptive symptoms; but she lived many years afterwards. + Nay, nay, rally yourself; Helen’s appearance, despite the extreme purity + of her complexion, is not that of one threatened by the terrible malady of + our climate. The young are often haunted with the idea of early death. As + we grow older, that thought is less cherished; in youth it is a sort of + luxury. To this mournful idea (which you see you have remarked as well as + I) we must attribute not only Helen’s occasional melancholy, but a + generosity of forethought which I cannot deny myself the pleasure of + communicating to you, though her delicacy would be shocked at my + indiscretion. You know how helpless her aunt is. Well, Helen, who is + entitled, when of age, to a moderate competence, has persuaded me to + insure her life and accept a trust to hold the moneys (if ever unhappily + due) for the benefit of my mother-in-law, so that Madame Dalibard may not + be left destitute if her niece die before she is twenty-one. How like + Helen, is it not?” + </p> + <p> + Percival was too overcome to answer. + </p> + <p> + Varney resumed: “I entreat you not to mention this to Helen; it would + offend her modesty to have the secret of her good deeds thus betrayed by + one to whom alone she confided them. I could not resist her entreaties, + though, entre nous, it cripples me not a little to advance for her the + necessary sums for the premiums. Apropos, this brings me to a point on + which I feel, as the vulgar idiom goes, ‘very awkward,’—as I always + do in these confounded money-matters. But you were good enough to ask me + to paint you a couple of pictures for Laughton. Now, if you could let me + have some portion of the sum, whatever it be (for I don’t price my + paintings to you), it would very much oblige me.” + </p> + <p> + Percival turned away his face as he wrung Varney’s hand, and muttered, + with a choked voice: “Let me have my share in Helen’s divine forethought. + Good Heavens! she, so young, to look thus beyond the grave, always for + others—for others!” + </p> + <p> + Callous as the wretch was, Percival’s emotion and his proposal struck + Varney with a sentiment like compunction. He had designed to appropriate + the lover’s gold as it was now offered; but that Percival himself should + propose it, blind to the grave to which that gold paved the way, was a + horror not counted in those to which his fell cupidity and his goading + apprehensions had familiarized his conscience. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, with one of those wayward scruples to which the blackest + criminals are sometimes susceptible,—“no. I have promised Helen to + regard this as a loan to her, which she is to repay me when of age. What + you may advance me is for the pictures. I have a right to do as I please + with what is bought by my own labour. And the subjects of the pictures, + what shall they be?” + </p> + <p> + “For one picture try and recall Helen’s aspect and attitude when you came + to us in the garden, and entitle your subject: ‘The Foreboding.’” + </p> + <p> + “Hem!” said Varney, hesitatingly. “And the other subject?” + </p> + <p> + “Wait for that till the joy-bells at Laughton have welcomed a bride, and + then—and then, Varney,” added Percival, with something of his + natural joyous smile, “you must take the expression as you find it. Once + under my care, and, please Heaven, the one picture shall laughingly + upbraid the other!” + </p> + <p> + As this was said, the cabriolet stopped at Percival’s door. Varney dined + with him that day; and if the conversation flagged, it did not revert to + the subject which had so darkened the bright spirits of the host, and so + tried the hypocrisy of the guest. When Varney left, which he did as soon + as the dinner was concluded, Percival silently put a check into his hands, + to a greater amount than Varney had anticipated even from his generosity. + </p> + <p> + “This is for four pictures, not two,” he said, shaking his head; and then, + with his characteristic conceit, he added: “Well, some years hence the + world shall not call them overpaid. Adieu, my Medici; a dozen such men, + and Art would revive in England.” + </p> + <p> + When he was left alone, Percival sat down, and leaning his face on both + hands, gave way to the gloom which his native manliness and the delicacy + that belongs to true affection had made him struggle not to indulge in the + presence of another. Never had he so loved Helen as in that hour; never + had he so intimately and intensely felt her matchless worth. The image of + her unselfish, quiet, melancholy consideration for that austere, + uncaressing, unsympathizing relation, under whose shade her young heart + must have withered, seemed to him filled with a celestial pathos. And he + almost hated Varney that the cynic painter could have talked of it with + that business-like phlegm. The evening deepened; the tranquil street grew + still; the air seemed close; the solitude oppressed him; he rose abruptly, + seized his hat, and went forth slowly, and still with a heavy heart. + </p> + <p> + As he entered Piccadilly, on the broad step of that house successively + inhabited by the Duke of Queensberry and Lord Hertford,—on the step + of that mansion up which so many footsteps light with wanton pleasure have + gayly trod, Percival’s eye fell upon a wretched, squalid, ragged object, + doubled up, as it were, in that last despondency which has ceased to beg, + that has no care to steal, that has no wish to live. Percival halted, and + touched the outcast. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter, my poor fellow? Take care; the policeman will not + suffer you to rest here. Come, cheer up, I say! There is something to find + you a better lodging!” + </p> + <p> + The silver fell unheeded on the stones. The thing of rags did not even + raise its head, but a low, broken voice muttered,— + </p> + <p> + “It be too late now; let ‘em take me to prison, let ‘em send me ‘cross the + sea to Buttany, let ‘em hang me, if they please. I be ‘s good for nothin’ + now,—nothin’!” + </p> + <p> + Altered as the voice was, it struck Percival as familiar. He looked down + and caught a view of the drooping face. “Up, man, up!” he said cheerily. + “See, Providence sends you an old friend in need, to teach you never to + despair again.” + </p> + <p> + The hearty accent, more than the words, touched and aroused the poor + creature. He rose mechanically, and a sickly, grateful smile passed over + his wasted features as he recognized St. John. + </p> + <p> + “Come! how is this? I have always understood that to keep a crossing was a + flourishing trade nowadays.” + </p> + <p> + “I ‘as no crossin’. I ‘as sold her!” groaned Beck. “I be’s good for + nothin’ now but to cadge about the streets, and steal, and filch, and hang + like the rest on us! Thank you kindly, sir,” and Beck pulled his forelock, + “but, please your honour, I vould rather make an ind on it!” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh, pooh! didn’t I tell you when you wanted a friend to come to me? Why + did you doubt me, foolish fellow? Pick up those shillings; get a bed and a + supper. Come and see me to-morrow at nine o’clock; you know where,—the + same house in Curzon Street; you shall tell me then your whole story, and + it shall go hard but I’ll buy you another crossing, or get you something + just as good.” + </p> + <p> + Poor Beck swayed a moment or two on his slender legs like a drunken man, + and then, suddenly falling on his knees, he kissed the hem of his + benefactor’s garment, and fairly wept. Those tears relieved him; they + seemed to wash the drought of despair from his heart. + </p> + <p> + “Hush, hush! or we shall have a crowd round us. You’ll not forget, my poor + friend, No.—— Curzon Street,—nine to-morrow. Make haste + now, and get food and rest; you look, indeed, as if you wanted them. Ah, + would to Heaven all the poverty in this huge city stood here in thy + person, and we could aid it as easily as I can thee!” + </p> + <p> + Percival had moved on as he said those last words, and looking back, he + had the satisfaction to see that Beck was slowly crawling after him, and + had escaped the grim question of a very portly policeman, who had no doubt + expressed a natural indignation at the audacity of so ragged a skeleton + not keeping itself respectably at home in its churchyard. + </p> + <p> + Entering one of the clubs in St. James’s Street, Percival found a small + knot of politicians in eager conversation respecting a new book which had + been published but a day or two before, but which had already seized the + public attention with that strong grasp which constitutes always an era in + an author’s life, sometimes an epoch in a nation’s literature. The + newspapers were full of extracts from the work,—the gossips, of + conjecture as to the authorship. We need scarcely say that a book which + makes this kind of sensation must hit some popular feeling of the hour, + supply some popular want. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, therefore, + its character is political; it was so in the present instance. It may be + remembered that that year parliament sat during great part of the month of + October, that it was the year in which the Reform Bill was rejected by the + House of Lords, and that public feeling in our time had never been so + keenly excited. This work appeared during the short interval between the + rejection of the Bill and the prorogation of parliament [Parliament was + prorogued October 20th; the bill rejected by the Lords, October 8th]. And + what made it more remarkable was, that while stamped with the passion of + the time, there was a weight of calm and stern reasoning embodied in its + vigorous periods, which gave to the arguments of the advocate something of + the impartiality of the judge. Unusually abstracted and unsocial,—for, + despite his youth and that peculiar bashfulness before noticed, he was + generally alive enough to all that passed around him,—Percival paid + little attention to the comments that circulated round the easy-chairs in + his vicinity, till a subordinate in the administration, with whom he was + slightly acquainted, pushed a small volume towards him and said,—“You + have seen this, of course, St. John? Ten to one you do not guess the + author. It is certainly not B——m, though the Lord Chancellor + has energy enough for anything. R—— says it has a touch of S——r.” + </p> + <p> + “Could M——y have written it?” asked a young member of + parliament, timidly. + </p> + <p> + “M——y! Very like his matchless style, to be sure! You can have + read very little of M——y, I should think,” said the + subordinate, with the true sneer of an official and a critic. + </p> + <p> + The young member could have slunk into a nutshell. Percival, with very + languid interest, glanced over the volume. But despite his mood, and his + moderate affection for political writings, the passage he opened upon + struck and seized him unawares. Though the sneer of the official was just, + and the style was not comparable to M——y’s (whose is?), still, + the steady rush of strong words, strong with strong thoughts, heaped + massively together, showed the ease of genius and the gravity of thought. + The absence of all effeminate glitter, the iron grapple with the pith and + substance of the argument opposed, seemed familiar to Percival. He thought + he heard the deep bass of John Ardworth’s earnest voice when some truth + roused his advocacy, or some falsehood provoked his wrath. He put down the + book, bewildered. Could it be the obscure, briefless lawyer in Gray’s Inn + (that very morning the object of his young pity) who was thus lifted into + fame? He smiled at his own credulity. But he listened with more attention + to the enthusiastic praises that circled round, and the various guesses + which accompanied them. Soon, however, his former gloom returned,—the + Babel began to chafe and weary him. He rose, and went forth again into the + air. He strolled on without purpose, but mechanically, into the street + where he had first seen Helen. He paused a few moments under the colonnade + which faced Beck’s old deserted crossing. His pause attracted the notice + of one of the unhappy beings whom we suffer to pollute our streets and rot + in our hospitals. She approached and spoke to him,—to him whose + heart was so full of Helen! He shuddered, and strode on. At length he + paused before the twin towers of Westminster Abbey, on which the moon + rested in solemn splendour; and in that space one man only shared his + solitude. A figure with folded arms leaned against the iron rails near the + statue of Canning, and his gaze comprehended in one view the walls of the + Parliament, in which all passions wage their war, and the glorious abbey, + which gives a Walhalla to the great. The utter stillness of the figure, so + in unison with the stillness of the scene, had upon Percival more effect + than would have been produced by the most clamorous crowd. He looked round + curiously as he passed, and uttered an exclamation as he recognized John + Ardworth. + </p> + <p> + “You, Percival!” said Ardworth. “A strange meeting-place at this hour! + What can bring you hither?” + </p> + <p> + “Only whim, I fear; and you?” as Percival linked his arm into Ardworth’s. + </p> + <p> + “Twenty years hence I will tell you what brought me hither!” answered + Ardworth, moving slowly back towards Whitehall. + </p> + <p> + “If we are alive then!” + </p> + <p> + “We live till our destinies below are fulfilled; till our uses have passed + from us in this sphere, and rise to benefit another. For the soul is as a + sun, but with this noble distinction,—the sun is confined in its + career; day after day it visits the same lands, gilds the same planets or + rather, as the astronomers hold, stands, the motionless centre of moving + worlds. But the soul, when it sinks into seeming darkness and the deep, + rises to new destinies, fresh regions unvisited before. What we call + Eternity, may be but an endless series of those transitions which men call + ‘deaths,’ abandonments of home after home, ever to fairer scenes and + loftier heights. Age after age, the spirit, that glorious Nomad, may shift + its tent, fated not to rest in the dull Elysium of the Heathen, but + carrying with it evermore its elements,—Activity and Desire. Why + should the soul ever repose? God, its Principle, reposes never. While we + speak, new worlds are sparkling forth, suns are throwing off their + nebulae, nebulae are hardening into worlds. The Almighty proves his + existence by creating. Think you that Plato is at rest, and Shakspeare + only basking on a sun-cloud? Labour is the very essence of spirit, as of + divinity; labour is the purgatory of the erring; it may become the hell of + the wicked, but labour is not less the heaven of the good!” + </p> + <p> + Ardworth spoke with unusual earnestness and passion, and his idea of the + future was emblematic of his own active nature; for each of us is wisely + left to shape out, amidst the impenetrable mists, his own ideal of the + Hereafter. The warrior child of the biting North placed his Hela amid + snows, and his Himmel in the banquets of victorious war; the son of the + East, parched by relentless summer,—his hell amidst fire, and his + elysium by cooling streams; the weary peasant sighs through life for rest, + and rest awaits his vision beyond the grave; the workman of genius,—ever + ardent, ever young,—honours toil as the glorious development of + being, and springs refreshed over the abyss of the grave, to follow, from + star to star, the progress that seems to him at once the supreme felicity + and the necessary law. So be it with the fantasy of each! Wisdom that is + infallible, and love that never sleeps, watch over the darkness, and bid + darkness be, that we may dream! + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” said the young listener, “what reproof do you not convey to those, + like me, who, devoid of the power which gives results to every toil, have + little left to them in life, but to idle life away. All have not the gift + to write, or harangue, or speculate, or—” + </p> + <p> + “Friend,” interrupted Ardworth, bluntly, “do not belie yourself. There + lives not a man on earth—out of a lunatic asylum—who has not + in him the power to do good. What can writers, haranguers, or speculators + do more than that? Have you ever entered a cottage, ever travelled in a + coach, ever talked with a peasant in the field, or loitered with a + mechanic at the loom, and not found that each of those men had a talent + you had not, knew some things you knew not? The most useless creature that + ever yawned at a club, or counted the vermin on his rags under the suns of + Calabria, has no excuse for want of intellect. What men want is not + talent, it is purpose,—in other words, not the power to achieve, but + the will to labour. You, Percival St. John,—you affect to despond, + lest you should not have your uses; you, with that fresh, warm heart; you, + with that pure enthusiasm for what is fresh and good; you, who can even + admire a thing like Varney, because, through the tawdry man, you recognize + art and skill, even though wasted in spoiling canvas; you, who have only + to live as you feel, in order to diffuse blessings all around you,—fie, + foolish boy! you will own your error when I tell you why I come from my + rooms at Gray’s Inn to see the walls in which Hampden, a plain country + squire like you, shook with plain words the tyranny of eight hundred + years.” + </p> + <p> + “Ardworth, I will not wait your time to tell me what took you yonder. I + have penetrated a secret that you, not kindly, kept from me. This morning + you rose and found yourself famous; this evening you have come to gaze + upon the scene of the career to which that fame will more rapidly conduct + you—” + </p> + <p> + “And upon the tomb which the proudest ambition I can form on earth must + content itself to win! A poor conclusion, if all ended here!” + </p> + <p> + “I am right, however,” said Percival, with boyish pleasure. “It is you + whose praises have just filled my ears. You, dear, dear Ardworth! How + rejoiced I am!” + </p> + <p> + Ardworth pressed heartily the hand extended to him: “I should have trusted + you with my secret to-morrow, Percival; as it is, keep it for the present. + A craving of my nature has been satisfied, a grief has found distraction. + As for the rest, any child that throws a stone into the water with all his + force can make a splash; but he would be a fool indeed if he supposed that + the splash was a sign that he had turned a stream.” + </p> + <p> + Here Ardworth ceased abruptly; and Percival, engrossed by a bright idea, + which had suddenly occurred to him, exclaimed,— + </p> + <p> + “Ardworth, your desire, your ambition, is to enter parliament; there must + be a dissolution shortly,—the success of your book will render you + acceptable to many a popular constituency. All you can want is a sum for + the necessary expenses. Borrow that sum from me; repay me when you are in + the Cabinet, or attorney-general. It shall be so!” + </p> + <p> + A look so bright that even by that dull lamplight the glow of the cheek, + the brilliancy of the eye were visible, flashed over Ardworth’s face. He + felt at that moment what ambitious man must feel when the object he has + seen dimly and afar is placed within his grasp; but his reason was proof + even against that strong temptation. + </p> + <p> + He passed his arm round the boy’s slender waist, and drew him to his heart + with grateful affection as he replied,—“And what, if now in + parliament, giving up my career,—with no regular means of + subsistence,—what could I be but a venal adventurer? Place would + become so vitally necessary to me that I should feed but a dangerous war + between my conscience and my wants. In chasing Fame, the shadow, I should + lose the substance, Independence. Why, that very thought would paralyze my + tongue. No, no, my generous friend. As labour is the arch elevator of man, + so patience is the essence of labour. First let me build the foundation; I + may then calculate the height of my tower. First let me be independent of + the great; I will then be the champion of the lowly. Hold! Tempt me no + more; do not lure me to the loss of self-esteem. And now, Percival,” + resumed Ardworth, in the tone of one who wishes to plunge into some + utterly new current of thought, “let us forget for awhile these solemn + aspirations, and be frolicsome and human. ‘Nemo mortalium omnibus horis + sapit.’ ‘Neque semper arcum tendit Apollo.’ What say you to a cigar?” + </p> + <p> + Percival stared. He was not yet familiarized to the eccentric whims of his + friend. + </p> + <p> + “Hot negus and a cigar!” repeated Ardworth, while a smile, full of + drollery, played round the corners of his lips and twinkled in his + deep-set eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Are you serious?” + </p> + <p> + “Not serious; I have been serious enough,” and Ardworth sighed, “for the + last three weeks. Who goes ‘to Corinth to be sage,’ or to the Cider Cellar + to be serious?” + </p> + <p> + “I subscribe, then, to the negus and cigar,” said Percival, smiling; and + he had no cause to repent his compliance as he accompanied Ardworth to one + of the resorts favoured by that strange person in his rare hours of + relaxation. + </p> + <p> + For, seated at his favourite table, which happened, luckily, to be vacant, + with his head thrown carelessly back, and his negus steaming before him, + John Ardworth continued to pour forth, till the clock struck three, jest + upon jest, pun upon pun, broad drollery upon broad drollery, without + flagging, without intermission, so varied, so copious, so ready, so + irresistible that Percival was transported out of all his melancholy in + enjoying, for the first time in his life, the exuberant gayety of a grave + mind once set free,—all its intellect sparkling into wit, all its + passion rushing into humour. And this was the man he had pitied, supposed + to have no sunny side to his life! How much greater had been his + compassion and his wonder if he could have known all that had passed, + within the last few weeks, through that gloomy, yet silent breast, which, + by the very breadth of its mirth, showed what must be the depth of its + sadness! + </p> + <p> + <a name="Blink2HCH0023" id="Blink2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. THE LOSS OF THE CROSSING. + </h2> + <p> + Despite the lateness of the hour before he got to rest, Percival had + already breakfasted, when his valet informed him, with raised, + supercilious eyebrows, that an uncommon ragged sort of a person insisted + that he had been told to call. Though Beck had been at the house before, + and the valet had admitted him, so much thinner, so much more ragged was + he now, that the trim servant—no close observer of such folk—did + not recognize him. However, at Percival’s order, too well-bred to show + surprise, he ushered Beck up with much civility; and St. John was + painfully struck with the ravages a few weeks had made upon the sweeper’s + countenance. The lines were so deeply ploughed, the dry hair looked so + thin, and was so sown with gray that Beck might have beat all Farren’s + skill in the part of an old man. + </p> + <p> + The poor sweeper’s tale, extricated from its peculiar phraseology, was + simple enough, and soon told. He had returned home at night to find his + hoards stolen, and the labour of his life overthrown. How he passed that + night he did not very well remember. We may well suppose that the little + reason he possessed was wellnigh bereft from him. No suspicion of the + exact thief crossed his perturbed mind. Bad as Grabman’s character might + be, he held a respectable position compared with the other lodgers in the + house. Bill the cracksman, naturally and by vocation, suggested the hand + that had despoiled him: how hope for redress or extort surrender from such + a quarter? Mechanically, however, when the hour arrived to return to his + day’s task, he stole down the stairs, and lo, at the very door of the + house Bill’s children were at play, and in the hand of the eldest he + recognized what he called his “curril.” + </p> + <p> + “Your curril!” interrupted St. John. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, curril,—vot the little ‘uns bite afore they gets their + teethin’.” + </p> + <p> + St. John smiled, and supposing that Beck had some time or other been + puerile enough to purchase such a bauble, nodded to him to continue. To + seize upon the urchin, and, in spite of kicks, bites, shrieks, or + scratches, repossess himself of his treasure, was the feat of a moment. + The brat’s clamour drew out the father; and to him Beck (pocketing the + coral, that its golden bells might not attract the more experienced eye + and influence the more formidable greediness of the paternal thief) + loudly, and at first fearlessly, appealed. Him he charged and accused and + threatened with all vengeance, human and divine. Then, changing his tone, + he implored, he wept, he knelt. As soon as the startled cracksman + recovered his astonishment at such audacity, and comprehended the nature + of the charge against himself and his family, he felt the more indignant + from a strange and unfamiliar consciousness of innocence. Seizing Beck by + the nape of the neck, with a dexterous application of hand and foot he + sent him spinning into the kennel. + </p> + <p> + “Go to Jericho, mud-scraper!” cried Bill, in a voice of thunder; “and if + ever thou sayst such a vopper agin,—‘sparaging the characters of + them ‘ere motherless babes,—I’ll seal thee up in a ‘tato-sack, and + sell thee for fiv’pence to No. 7, the great body-snatcher. Take care how I + ever sets eyes agin on thy h-ugly mug!” + </p> + <p> + With that Bill clapped to the door, and Beck, frightened out of his wits, + crawled from the kennel and, bruised and smarting, crept to his crossing. + But he was unable to discharge his duties that day; his ill-fed, miserable + frame was too weak for the stroke he had received. Long before dusk he + sneaked away, and dreading to return to his lodging, lest, since nothing + now was left worth robbing but his carcass, Bill might keep his word and + sell that to the body-snatcher, he took refuge under the only roof where + he felt he could sleep in safety. + </p> + <p> + And here we must pause to explain. In our first introduction of Beck we + contented ourselves with implying to the ingenious and practised reader + that his heart might still be large enough to hold something besides his + crossing. Now, in one of the small alleys that have their vent in the + great stream of Fleet Street there dwelt an old widow-woman who eked out + her existence by charing,—an industrious, drudging creature, whose + sole occupation, since her husband, the journeyman bricklayer, fell from a + scaffold, and, breaking his neck, left her happily childless as well as + penniless, had been scrubbing stone floors and cleaning out dingy houses + when about to be let,—charing, in a word. And in this vocation had + she kept body and soul together till a bad rheumatism and old age had put + an end to her utilities and entitled her to the receipt of two shillings + weekly from parochial munificence. Between this old woman and Beck there + was a mysterious tie, so mysterious that he did not well comprehend it + himself. Sometimes he called her “mammy,” sometimes “the h-old crittur.” + But certain it is that to her he was indebted for that name which he bore, + to the puzzlement of St. Giles’s. Becky Carruthers was the name of the old + woman; but Becky was one of those good creatures who are always called by + their Christian names, and never rise into the importance of the surname + and the dignity of “Mistress;” lopping off the last syllable of the + familiar appellation, the outcast christened himself “Beck.” + </p> + <p> + “And,” said St. John, who in the course of question and answer had got + thus far into the marrow of the sweeper’s narrative, “is not this good + woman really your mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Mother!” echoed Beck, with disdain; “no, I ‘as a gritter mother nor she. + Sint Poll’s is my mother. But the h-old crittur tuk care on me.” + </p> + <p> + “I really don’t understand you. St. Paul’s is your mother? How?” + </p> + <p> + Beck shook his head mysteriously, and without answering the question, + resumed the tale, which we must thus paraphrastically continue to deliver. + </p> + <p> + When he was a little more than six years old, Beck began to earn his own + livelihood, by running errands, holding horses, scraping together pence + and halfpence. Betimes, his passion for saving began; at first with a good + and unselfish motive,—that of surprising “mammy” at the week’s end. + But when “mammy,” who then gained enough for herself, patted his head and + called him “good boy,” and bade him save for his own uses, and told him + what a great thing it would be if he could lay by a pretty penny against + he was a man, he turned miser on his own account; and the miserable luxury + grew upon him. At last, by the permission of the police inspector, + strengthened by that of the owner of the contiguous house, he made his + great step in life, and succeeded a deceased negro in the dignity and + emoluments of the memorable crossing. From that hour he felt himself + fulfilling his proper destiny. But poor Becky, alas! had already fallen + into the sere and yellow leaf; with her decline, her good qualities were + impaired. She took to drinking,—not to positive intoxication, but to + making herself “comfortable;” and, to satisfy her craving, Beck, waking + betimes one morning, saw her emptying his pockets. Then he resolved, + quietly and without upbraiding her, to remove to a safer lodging. To save + had become the imperative necessity of his existence. But to do him + justice, Beck had a glimmering sense of what was due to the “h-old + crittur.” Every Saturday evening he called at her house and deposited with + her a certain sum, not large even in proportion to his earnings, but which + seemed to the poor ignorant miser, who grudged every farthing to himself, + an enormous deduction from his total, and a sum sufficient for every + possible want of humankind, even to satiety. And now, in returning, + despoiled of all save the few pence he had collected that day, it is but + fair to him to add that not his least bitter pang was in the remembrance + that this was the only Saturday on which, for the first time, the weekly + stipend would fail. + </p> + <p> + But so ill and so wretched did he look when he reached her little room + that “mammy” forgot all thought of herself; and when he had told his tale, + so kind was her comforting, so unselfish her sympathy, that his heart + smote him for his old parsimony, for his hard resentment at her single act + of peculation. Had not she the right to all he made? But remorse and grief + alike soon vanished in the fever that now seized him; for several days he + was insensible; and when he recovered sufficiently to be made aware of + what was around him, he saw the widow seated beside him, within four bare + walls. Everything, except the bed he slept on, had been sold to support + him in his illness. As soon as he could totter forth, Beck hastened to his + crossing. Alas! it was preoccupied. His absence had led to ambitious + usurpation. A one-legged, sturdy sailor had mounted his throne, and + wielded his sceptre. The decorum of the street forbade altercation to the + contending parties; but the sailor referred discussion to a meeting at a + flash house in the Rookery that evening. There a jury was appointed, and + the case opened. By the conventional laws that regulate this useful + community, Beck was still in his rights; his reappearance sufficed to + restore his claims, and an appeal to the policeman would no doubt + re-establish his authority. But Beck was still so ill and so feeble that + he had a melancholy persuasion that he could not suitably perform the + duties of his office; and when the sailor, not a bad fellow on the whole, + offered to pay down on the nail what really seemed a very liberal sum for + Beck’s peaceful surrender of his rights, the poor wretch thought of the + bare walls at his “mammy’s,” of the long, dreary interval that must + elapse, even if able to work, before the furniture pawned could be + redeemed by the daily profits of his post, and with a groan he held out + his hand and concluded the bargain. + </p> + <p> + Creeping home to his “h-old crittur,” he threw the purchase money into her + lap; then, broken-hearted and in despair, he slunk forth again in a sort + of vague, dreamy hope that the law, which abhors vagabonds, would seize + and finish him. + </p> + <p> + When this tale was done, Percival did not neglect the gentle task of + admonition, which the poor sweeper’s softened heart and dull remorse made + easier. He pointed out, in soft tones, how the avarice he had indulged had + been perhaps mercifully chastised, and drew no ineloquent picture of the + vicious miseries of the confirmed miser. Beck listened humbly and + respectfully; though so little did he understand of mercy and Providence + and vice that the diviner part of the homily was quite lost on him. + However, he confessed penitently that “the mattress had made him vorse nor + a beast to the h-old crittur;” and that “he was cured of saving to the end + of his days.” + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said Percival, “as you really seem not strong enough to bear + this out-of-door work (the winter coming on, too), what say you to + entering into my service? I want some help in my stables. The work is easy + enough, and you are used to horses, you know, in a sort of a way.” + </p> + <p> + Beck hesitated, and looked a moment undecided. At last he said, “Please + your honour, if I bean’t strong enough for the crossin’, I ‘se afeared I’m + too h-ailing to sarve you. And voud n’t I be vorse nor a wiper to take + your vages and not vork for ‘em h-as I h-ought?” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! we’ll soon make you strong, my man. Take my advice; don’t let your + head run on the crossing. That kind of industry exposes you to bad company + and bad thoughts.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s vot it is, sir,” said Beck, assentingly, laying his dexter + forefinger on his sinister palm. + </p> + <p> + “Well! you are in my service, then. Go downstairs now and get your + breakfast; by and by you shall show me your ‘mammy’s’ house, and we’ll see + what can be done for her.” + </p> + <p> + Beck pressed his hands to his eyes, trying hard not to cry; but it was too + much for him; and as the valet, who appeared to Percival’s summons, led + him down the stairs, his sobs were heard from attic to basement. + </p> + <p> + <a name="Blink2HCH0024" id="Blink2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. NEWS FROM GRABMAN. + </h2> + <p> + That day, opening thus auspiciously to Beck, was memorable also to other + and more prominent persons in this history. + </p> + <p> + Early in the forenoon a parcel was brought to Madame Dalibard which + contained Ardworth’s already famous book, a goodly assortment of extracts + from the newspapers thereon, and the following letter from the young + author:— + </p> + <p> + You will see, by the accompanying packet, that your counsels have had + weight with me. I have turned aside in my slow, legitimate career. I have, + as you desired, made “men talk of me.” What solid benefit I may reap from + this I know not. I shall not openly avow the book. Such notoriety cannot + help meat the Bar. But liberavi animam meam,—excuse my pedantry,—I + have let my soul free for a moment; I am now catching it back to put bit + and saddle on again. I will not tell you how you have disturbed me, how + you have stung me into this premature rush amidst the crowd, how, after + robbing me of name and father, you have driven me to this experiment with + my own mind, to see if I was deceived when I groaned to myself, “The + Public shall give you a name, and Fame shall be your mother.” I am + satisfied with the experiment. I know better now what is in me, and I have + regained my peace of mind. If in the success of this hasty work there be + that which will gratify the interest you so kindly take in me, deem that + success your own; I owe it to you,—to your revelations, to your + admonitions. I wait patiently your own time for further disclosures; till + then, the wheel must work on, and the grist be ground. Kind and generous + friend, till now I would not wound you by returning the sum you sent me,—nay, + more, I knew I should please you by devoting part of it to the risk of + giving this essay to the world, and so making its good fortune doubly your + own work. Now, when the publisher smiles, and the shopmen bow, and I am + acknowledged to have a bank in my brains,—now, you cannot be + offended to receive it back. Adieu. When my mind is in train again, and I + feel my step firm on the old dull road, I will come to see you. Till then, + yours—by what name? Open the Biographical Dictionary at hazard, and + send me one. GRAY’S INN. + </p> + <p> + Not at the noble thoughts and the deep sympathy with mankind that glowed + through that work, over which Lucretia now tremulously hurried, did she + feel delight. All that she recognized, or desired to recognize, were those + evidences of that kind of intellect which wins its way through the world, + and which, strong and unmistakable, rose up in every page of that vigorous + logic and commanding style. The book was soon dropped, thus read; the + newspaper extracts pleased even more. + </p> + <p> + “This,” she said audibly, in the freedom of her solitude, “this is the son + I asked for,—a son in whom I can rise; in whom I can exchange the + sense of crushing infamy for the old delicious ecstasy of pride! For this + son can I do too much? No; in what I may do for him methinks there will be + no remorse. And he calls his success mine,—mine!” Her nostrils + dilated, and her front rose erect. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of this exultation Varney found her; and before he could + communicate the business which had brought him, he had to listen, which he + did with the secret, gnawing envy that every other man’s success + occasioned him, to her haughty self-felicitations. + </p> + <p> + He could not resist saying, with a sneer, when she paused, as if to ask + his sympathy,— + </p> + <p> + “All this is very fine, belle-mere; and yet I should hardly have thought + that coarse-featured, uncouth limb of the law, who seldom moves without + upsetting a chair, never laughs but the panes rattle in the window,—I + should hardly have thought him the precise person to gratify your pride, + or answer the family ideal of a gentleman and a St. John.” + </p> + <p> + “Gabriel,” said Lucretia, sternly, “you have a biting tongue, and it is + folly in me to resent those privileges which our fearful connection gives + you. But this raillery—” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, I was wrong; forgive it!” interrupted Varney, who, dreading + nothing else, dreaded much the rebuke of his grim stepmother. + </p> + <p> + “It is forgiven,” said Lucretia, coldly, and with a slight wave of her + hand; then she added, with composure,— + </p> + <p> + “Long since—even while heiress of Laughton—I parted with mere + pride in the hollow seemings of distinction. Had I not, should I have + stooped to William Mainwaring? What I then respected, amidst all the + degradations I have known, I respect still,—talent, ambition, + intellect, and will. Do you think I would exchange these in a son of mine + for the mere graces which a dancing-master can sell him? Fear not. Let us + give but wealth to that intellect, and the world will see no clumsiness in + the movements that march to its high places, and hear no discord in the + laugh that triumphs over fools. But you have some news to communicate, or + some proposal to suggest.” + </p> + <p> + “I have both,” said Varney. “In the first place, I have a letter from + Grabman!” + </p> + <p> + Lucretia’s eyes sparkled, and she snatched eagerly at the letter her + son-in-law drew forth. + </p> + <p> + LIVERPOOL, October, 1831. + </p> + <p> + JASON,—I think I am on the road to success. Having first possessed + myself of the fact, commemorated in the parish register, of the birth and + baptism of Alfred Braddell’s son,—for we must proceed regularly in + these matters,—I next set my wits to work to trace that son’s exodus + from the paternal mansion. I have hunted up an old woman-servant, Jane + Prior, who lived with the Braddells. She now thrives as a laundress; she + is a rank Puritan, and starches for the godly. She was at first very wary + and reserved in her communications; but by siding with her prejudices and + humours, and by the intercession of the Rev. Mr. Graves (of her own + persuasion), I have got her to open her lips. It seems that these + Braddells lived very unhappily; the husband, a pious dissenter, had + married a lady who turned out of a very different practice and belief. + Jane Prior pitied her master, and detested her mistress. Some + circumstances in the conduct of Mrs. Braddell made the husband, who was + then in his last illness, resolve, from a point of conscience, to save his + child from what he deemed the contamination of her precepts and example. + Mrs. Braddell was absent from Liverpool on a visit, which was thought very + unfeeling by the husband’s friends; during this time Braddell was visited + constantly by a gentleman (Mr. Ardworth), who differed from him greatly in + some things, and seemed one of the carnal, but with whom agreement in + politics (for they were both great politicians and republicans) seems to + have established a link. One evening, when Mr. Ardworth was in the house, + Jane Prior, who was the only maidservant (for they kept but two, and one + had been just discharged), had been sent out to the apothecary’s. On her + return, Jane Prior, going into the nursery, missed the infant: she thought + it was with her master; but coming into his room, Mr. Braddell told her to + shut the door, informed her that he had intrusted the boy to Mr. Ardworth, + to be brought up in a righteous and pious manner, and implored and + commanded her to keep this a secret from his wife, whom he was resolved, + indeed, if he lived, not to receive back into his house. Braddell, + however, did not survive more than two days this event. On his death, Mrs. + Braddell returned; but circumstances connected with the symptoms of his + malady, and a strong impression which haunted himself, and with which he + had infected Jane Prior, that he had been poisoned, led to a posthumous + examination of his remains. No trace of poison was, however, discovered, + and suspicions that had been directed against his wife could not be + substantiated by law; still, she was regarded in so unfavourable a light + by all who had known them both, she met with such little kindness or + sympathy in her widowhood, and had been so openly denounced by Jane Prior, + that it is not to be wondered at that she left the place as soon as + possible. The house, indeed, was taken from her; for Braddell’s affairs + were found in such confusion, and his embarrassments so great, that + everything was seized and sold off,—nothing left for the widow nor + for the child (if the last were ever discovered.) + </p> + <p> + As may be supposed, Mrs. Braddell was at first very clamorous for the lost + child; but Jane Prior kept her promise and withheld all clew to it, and + Mrs. Braddell was forced to quit the place, in ignorance of what had + become of it. Since then no one had heard of her; but Jane Prior says that + she is sure she has come to no good. Now, though much of this may be, no + doubt, familiar to you, dear Jason, it is right, when I put the evidence + before you, that you should know and guard against what to expect; and in + any trial at law to prove the identity of Vincent Braddell, Jane Prior + must be a principal witness, and will certainly not spare poor Mrs. + Braddell. For the main point, however,—namely, the suspicion of + poisoning her husband,—the inquest and verdict may set aside all + alarm. + </p> + <p> + My next researches have been directed on the track of Walter Ardworth, + after leaving Liverpool, which (I find by the books at the inn where he + lodged and was known) he did in debt to the innkeeper, the very night he + received the charge of the child. Here, as yet, I am in fault; but I have + ascertained that a woman, one of the sect, of the name of Joplin, living + in a village fifteen miles from the town, had the care of some infant, to + replace her own, which she had lost. I am going to this village to-morrow. + But I cannot expect much in that quarter, since it would seem at variance + with your more probable belief that Walter Ardworth took the child at once + to Mr. Fielden’s. However, you see I have already gone very far in the + evidence,—the birth of the child, the delivery of the child to + Ardworth. I see a very pretty case already before us, and I do not now + doubt for a moment of ultimate success. Yours, N. GRABMAN. + </p> + <p> + Lucretia read steadily, and with no change of countenance, to the last + line of the letter. Then, as she put it down on the table before her, she + repeated, with a tone of deep exultation: “No doubt of ultimate success!” + </p> + <p> + “You do not fear to brave all which the spite of this woman, Jane Prior, + may prompt her to say against you?” asked Varney. + </p> + <p> + Lucretia’s brow fell. “It is another torture,” she said, “even to own my + marriage with a low-born hypocrite. But I can endure it for the cause,” + she added, more haughtily. “Nothing can really hurt me in these obsolete + aspersions and this vague scandal. The inquest acquitted me, and the world + will be charitable to the mother of him who has wealth and rank and that + vigorous genius which, if proved in obscurity, shall command opinion in + renown.” + </p> + <p> + “You are now, then, disposed at once to proceed to action. For Helen all + is prepared,—the insurances are settled, the trust for which I hold + them on your behalf is signed and completed. But for Percival St. John I + await your directions. Will it be best first to prove your son’s identity, + or when morally satisfied that that proof is forthcoming, to remove + betimes both the barriers to his inheritance? If we tarry for the last, + the removal of St. John becomes more suspicious than it does at a time + when you have no visible interest in his death. Besides, now we have the + occasion, or can make it, can we tell how long it will last? Again, it + will seem more natural that the lover should break his heart in the first + shock of—” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” interrupted Lucretia, “I would have all thought and contemplation of + crime at an end when, clasping my boy to my heart, I can say, ‘Your + mother’s inheritance is yours.’ I would not have a murder before my eyes + when they should look only on the fair prospects beyond. I would cast back + all the hideous images of horror into the rear of memory, so that hope may + for once visit me again undisturbed. No, Gabriel, were I to speak forever, + you would comprehend not what I grasp at in a son. It is at a future! + Rolling a stone over the sepulchre of the past, it is a resurrection into + a fresh world; it is to know again one emotion not impure, one scheme not + criminal,—it is, in a word, to cease to be as myself, to think in + another soul, to hear my heart beat in another form. All this I covet in a + son. And when all this should smile before me in his image, shall I be + plucked back again into my hell by the consciousness that a new crime is + to be done? No; wade quickly through the passage of blood, that we may dry + our garments and breathe the air upon the bank where sun shines and + flowers bloom!” + </p> + <p> + “So be it, then,” said Varney. “Before the week is out, I must be under + the same roof as St. John. Before the week is out, why not all meet in the + old halls of Laughton?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, in the halls of Laughton. On the hearth of our ancestors the deeds + done for our descendants look less dark.” + </p> + <p> + “And first, to prepare the way, Helen should sicken in these fogs of + London, and want change of air.” + </p> + <p> + “Place before me that desk. I will read William Mainwaring’s letters again + and again, till from every shadow in the past a voice comes forth, ‘The + child of your rival, your betrayer, your undoer, stands between the + daylight and your son!’” + </p> + <p> + <a name="Blink2HCH0025" id="Blink2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. VARIETIES. + </h2> + <p> + Leaving the guilty pair to concert their schemes and indulge their + atrocious hopes, we accompany Percival to the hovel occupied by Becky + Carruthers. + </p> + <p> + On following Beck into the room she rented, Percival was greatly surprised + to find, seated comfortably on the only chair to be seen, no less a person + than the worthy Mrs. Mivers. This good lady in her spinster days had + earned her own bread by hard work. She had captivated Mr. Mivers when but + a simple housemaid in the service of one of his relations. And while this + humble condition in her earlier life may account for much in her language + and manners which is nowadays inconsonant with the breeding and education + that characterize the wives of opulent tradesmen, so perhaps the + remembrance of it made her unusually susceptible to the duties of charity. + For there is no class of society more prone to pity and relieve the poor + than females in domestic service; and this virtue Mrs. Mivers had not laid + aside, as many do, as soon as she was in a condition to practise it with + effect. Mrs. Mivers blushed scarlet on being detected in her visit of + kindness, and hastened to excuse herself by the information that she + belonged to a society of ladies for “The Bettering the Condition of the + Poor,” and that having just been informed of Mrs. Becky’s destitute state, + she had looked in to recommend her—a ventilator! + </p> + <p> + “It is quite shocking to see how little the poor attends to the proper + wentilating their houses. No wonder there’s so much typus about!” said + Mrs. Mivers. “And for one-and-sixpence we can introduce a stream of h-air + that goes up the chimbly, and carries away all that it finds!”. + </p> + <p> + “I ‘umbly thank you, marm,” said the poor bundle of rags that went by the + name of “Becky,” as with some difficulty she contrived to stand in the + presence of the benevolent visitor; “but I am much afeard that the h-air + will make the rheumatiz very rumpatious!” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, on the contrary,” said Mrs. Mivers, triumphantly; and + she proceeded philosophically to explain that all the fevers, aches, + pains, and physical ills that harass the poor arise from the want of an + air-trap in the chimney and a perforated network in the window-pane. Becky + listened patiently; for Mrs. Mivers was only a philosopher in her talk, + and she had proved herself anything but a philosopher in her actions, by + the spontaneous present of five shillings, and the promise of a basket of + victuals and some good wine to keep the cold wind she invited to the + apartment out of the stomach. + </p> + <p> + Percival imitated the silence of Becky, whose spirit was so bowed down by + an existence of drudgery that not even the sight of her foster-son could + draw her attention from the respect due to a superior. + </p> + <p> + “And is this poor cranky-looking cretur your son, Mrs. Becky?” said the + visitor, struck at last by the appearance of the ex-sweeper as he stood at + the threshold, hat in hand. + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed, marm,” answered Becky; “I often says, says I: ‘Child, you be + the son of Sint Poll’s.’” + </p> + <p> + Beck smiled proudly. + </p> + <p> + “It was agin the grit church, marm —— But it’s a long story. + My poor good man had not a long been dead,—as good a man as hever + lived, marm,” and Becky dropped a courtesy; “he fell off a scaffold, and + pitched right on his ‘ead, or I should not have come on the parish, marm,—and + that’s the truth on it!” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, I shall call and hear all about it; a sad case, I dare say. + You see, your husband should have subscribed to our Loan Society, and then + they’d have found him a ‘andsome coffin, and given three pounds to his + widder. But the poor are so benighted in these parts. I’m sure, sir, I + can’t guess what brought you here; but that’s no business of mine. And how + are all at Old Brompton?” Here Mrs. Mivers bridled indignantly. “There was + a time when Miss Mainwaring was very glad to come and chat with Mr. M. and + myself; but now ‘rum has riz,’ as the saying is,—not but what I dare + say it’s not her fault, poor thing! That stiff aunt of hers,—she + need not look so high; pride and poverty, forsooth!” + </p> + <p> + While delivering these conciliatory sentences, Mrs. Mivers had gathered up + her gown, and was evidently in the bustle of departure. As she now nodded + to Becky, Percival stepped up, and, with his irresistible smile, offered + her his arm. Much surprised and much flattered, Mrs. Mivers accepted it. + As she did so, he gently detained her while he said to Becky,—“My + good friend, I have brought you the poor lad to whom you have been a + mother, to tell you that good deeds find their reward sooner or later. As + for him, make yourself easy; he will inform you of the new step he has + taken, and for you, good, kind-hearted creature, thank the boy you brought + up if your old age shall be made easy and cheerful. Now, Beck, silly lad, + go and tell all to your nurse! Take care of this step, Mrs. Mivers.” + </p> + <p> + As soon as he was in the street, Percival, who, if amused at the + ventilator, had seen the five shillings gleam on Becky’s palm, and felt + that he had found under the puce-coloured gown a good woman’s heart to + understand him, gave Mrs. Mivers a short sketch of poor Becky’s history + and misfortunes, and so contrived to interest her in behalf of the nurse + that she willingly promised to become Percival’s almoner, to execute his + commission, to improve the interior of Becky’s abode, and distribute + weekly the liberal stipend he proposed to settle on the old widow. They + had grown, indeed, quite friendly and intimate by the time he reached the + smart plate-glazed mahogany-coloured facade within which the flourishing + business of Mr. Mivers was carried on; and when, knocking at the private + door, promptly opened by a lemon-coloured page, she invited him upstairs, + it so chanced that the conversation had slid off to Helen, and Percival + was sufficiently interested to bow assent and to enter. + </p> + <p> + Though all the way up the stairs Mrs. Mivers, turning back at every other + step, did her best to impress upon her young visitor’s mind the important + fact that they kept their household establishment at their “willer,” and + that their apartments in Fleet Street were only a “conwenience,” the store + set by the worthy housewife upon her goods and chattels was sufficiently + visible in the drugget that threaded its narrow way up the gay Brussels + stair-carpet, and in certain layers of paper which protected from the + profanation of immediate touch the mahogany hand-rail. And nothing could + exceed the fostering care exhibited in the drawing-room, when the door + thrown open admitted a view of its damask moreen curtains, pinned back + from such impertinent sunbeams as could force their way through the foggy + air of the east into the windows, and the ells of yellow muslin that + guarded the frames, at least, of a collection of coloured prints and two + kit-kat portraitures of Mr. Mivers and his lady from the perambulations of + the flies. + </p> + <p> + But Percival’s view of this interior was somewhat impeded by his portly + guide, who, uttering a little exclamation of surprise, stood motionless on + the threshold as she perceived Mr. Mivers seated by the hearth in close + conference with a gentleman whom she had never seen before. At that hour + it was so rare an event in the life of Mr. Mivers to be found in the + drawing-room, and that he should have an acquaintance unknown to his + helpmate was a circumstance so much rarer still, that Mrs. Mivers may well + be forgiven for keeping St. John standing at the door till she had + recovered her amaze. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Mr. Mivers rose in some confusion, and was apparently about to + introduce his guest, when that gentleman coughed, and pinched the host’s + arm significantly. Mr. Mivers coughed also, and stammered out: “A + gentleman, Mrs. M.,—a friend; stay with us a day or two. Much + honoured, hum!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mivers stared and courtesied, and stared again. But there was an + open, good-humoured smile in the face of the visitor, as he advanced and + took her hand, that attracted a heart very easily conciliated. Seeing that + that was no moment for further explanation, she plumped herself into a + seat and said,— + </p> + <p> + “But bless us and save us, I am keeping you standing, Mr. St. John!” + </p> + <p> + “St. John!” repeated the visitor, with a vehemence that startled Mrs. + Mivers. “Your name is St. John, sir,—related to the St. Johns of + Laughton?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed,” answered Percival, with his shy, arch smile. “Laughton at + present has no worthier owner than myself.” + </p> + <p> + The gentleman made two strides to Percival and shook him heartily by the + hand. + </p> + <p> + “This is pleasant indeed!” he exclaimed. “You must excuse my freedom; but + I knew well poor old Sir Miles, and my heart warms at the sight of his + representative.” + </p> + <p> + Percival glanced at his new acquaintance, and on the whole was + prepossessed in his favour. He seemed somewhere on the sunnier side of + fifty, with that superb yellow bronze of complexion which betokens long + residence under Eastern skies. Deep wrinkles near the eyes, and a dark + circle round them, spoke of cares and fatigue, and perhaps dissipation. + But he had evidently a vigour of constitution that had borne him passably + through all; his frame was wiry and nervous; his eye bright and full of + life; and there was that abrupt, unsteady, mercurial restlessness in his + movements and manner which usually accompanies the man whose sanguine + temperament prompts him to concede to the impulse, and who is blessed or + cursed with a superabundance of energy, according as circumstance may + favour or judgment correct that equivocal gift of constitution. + </p> + <p> + Percival said something appropriate in reply to so much cordiality paid to + the account of the Sir Miles whom he had never seen, and seated himself, + colouring slightly under the influence of the fixed, pleased, and earnest + look still bent upon him. + </p> + <p> + Searching for something else to say, Percival asked Mrs. Mivers if she had + lately seen John Ardworth. + </p> + <p> + The guest, who had just reseated himself, turned his chair round at that + question with such vivacity that Mrs. Mivers heard it crack. Her chairs + were not meant for such usage. A shade fell over her rosy countenance as + she replied,— + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed (please, sir, them chairs is brittle)! No, he is like Madame + at Brompton, and seldom condescends to favour us now. It was but last + Sunday we asked him to dinner. I am sure he need not turn up his nose at + our roast beef and pudding!” + </p> + <p> + Here Mr. Mivers was taken with a violent fit of coughing, which drew off + his wife’s attention. She was afraid he had taken cold. + </p> + <p> + The stranger took out a large snuff-box, inhaled a long pinch of snuff, + and said to St. John,— + </p> + <p> + “This Mr. John Ardworth, a pert enough jackanapes, I suppose,—a limb + of the law, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said Percival, gravely, “John Ardworth is my particular friend. It + is clear that you know very little of him.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s true,” said the stranger,—“‘pon my life, that’s very true. + But I suppose he’s like all lawyers,—cunning and tricky, conceited + and supercilious, full of prejudice and cant, and a red-hot Tory into the + bargain. I know them, sir; I know them!” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” answered St. John, half gayly, half angrily, “your general + experience serves you very little here; for Ardworth is exactly the + opposite of all you have described.” + </p> + <p> + “Even in politics?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I fear he is half a Radical,—certainly more than a Whig,” + answered St. John, rather mournfully; for his own theories were all the + other way, notwithstanding his unpatriotic forgetfulness of them in his + offer to assist Ardworth’s entrance into parliament. + </p> + <p> + “I am very glad to hear it,” cried the stranger, again taking snuff. “And + this Madame at Brompton—perhaps I know her a little better than I do + young Mr. Ardworth—Mrs. Brad—I mean Madame Dalibard!” and the + stranger glanced at Mr. Mivers, who was slowly recovering from some + vigorous slaps on the back administered to him by his wife as a + counter-irritant to the cough. “Is it true that she has lost the use of + her limbs?” + </p> + <p> + Percival shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “And takes care of poor Helen Mainwaring the orphan? Well, well, that + looks amiable enough. I must see; I must see!” + </p> + <p> + “Who shall I say inquired after her, when I see Madame Dalibard?” asked + Percival, with some curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “Who? Oh, Mr. Tomkins. She will not recollect him, though,”—and the + stranger laughed, and Mr. Mivers laughed too; and Mrs. Mivers, who, + indeed, always laughed when other people laughed, laughed also. So + Percival thought he ought to laugh for the sake of good company, and all + laughed together as he arose and took leave. + </p> + <p> + He had not, however, got far from the house, on his way to his cabriolet, + which he had left by Temple Bar, when, somewhat to his surprise, he found + Mr. Tomkins at his elbow. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, Mr. St. John, but I have only just returned to + England, and on such occasions a man is apt to seem curious. This young + lawyer —— You see the elder Ardworth, a good-for-nothing + scamp, was a sort of friend of mine,—not exactly friend, indeed, + for, by Jove, I think he was a worse friend to me than he was to anybody + else; still I had a foolish interest for him, and should be glad to hear + something more about any one bearing his name than I can coax out of that + droll little linen draper. You are really intimate with young Ardworth, + eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Intimate! poor fellow, he will not let any one be that; he works too hard + to be social. But I love him sincerely, and I admire him beyond measure.” + </p> + <p> + “The dog has industry, then;—that’s good. And does he make debts, + like that rascal, Ardworth senior?” + </p> + <p> + “Really, sir, I must say this tone with respect to Mr. Ardworth’s father—” + </p> + <p> + “What the devil, sir! Do you take the father’s part as well as the son’s?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know anything about Mr. Ardworth senior,” said Percival, pouting; + “but I do know that my friend would not allow any one to speak ill of his + father in his presence; and I beg you, sir, to consider that whatever + would offend him must offend me.” + </p> + <p> + “Gad’s my life! He’s the luckiest young rogue to have such a friend. Sir, + I wish you a very good-day.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Tomkins took off his hat, bowed, and passing St. John with a rapid + step, was soon lost to his eye amongst the crowd hurrying westward. + </p> + <p> + But our business being now rather with him than Percival, we leave the + latter to mount his cabriolet, and we proceed with Mr. Mivers’s mercurial + guest on his eccentric way through the throng. There was an odd mixture of + thoughtful abstraction and quick observation in the soliloquy in which + this gentleman indulged, as he walked briskly on. + </p> + <p> + “A pretty young spark that St. John! A look of his father, but handsomer, + and less affected. I like him. Fine shop that, very! London wonderfully + improved. A hookah in that window,—God bless me!—a real + hookah! This is all very good news about that poor boy, very. After all, + he is not to blame if his mother was such a damnable—I must contrive + to see and judge of him myself as soon as possible. Can’t trust to others; + too sharp for that. What an ugly dog that is, looking after me! It is + certainly a bailiff. Hang it, what do I care for bailiffs? Hem, hem!” And + the gentleman thrust his hands into his pockets, and laughed, as the + jingle of coin reached his ear through the din without. “Well, I must make + haste to decide; for really there is a very troublesome piece of business + before me. Plague take her, what can have become of the woman? I shall + have to hunt out a sharp lawyer. But John’s a lawyer himself. No, + attorneys, I suppose, are the men. Gad! they were sharp enough when they + had to hunt me. What’s that great bill on the wall about? ‘Down with the + Lords!’ Pooh, pooh! Master John Bull, you love lords a great deal too much + for that. A prettyish girl! English women are very good-looking, + certainly. That Lucretia, what shall I do, if —— Ah, time + enough to think of her when I have got over that mighty stiff if!” + </p> + <p> + In such cogitations and mental remarks our traveller whiled away the time + till he found himself in Piccadilly. There, a publisher’s shop (and he had + that keen eye for shops which betrays the stranger in London), with its + new publications exposed at the window, attracted his notice. Conspicuous + amongst the rest was the open title-page of a book, at the foot of which + was placed a placard with the enticing words, “FOURTH EDITION; JUST OUT,” + in red capitals. The title of the work struck his irritable, curious + fancy; he walked into the shop, asked for the volume, and while looking + over the contents with muttered ejaculations, “Good! capital! Why, this + reminds one of Horne Tooke! What’s the price? Very dear; must have it + though,—must. Ha, ha! home-thrust there!”—while thus turning + over the leaves, and rending them asunder with his forefinger, regardless + of the paper cutter extended to him by the shopman, a gentleman, pushing + by him, asked if the publisher was at home; and as the shopman, bowing + very low, answered “Yes,” the new-comer darted into a little recess behind + the shop. Mr. Tomkins, who had looked up very angrily on being jostled so + unceremoniously, started and changed colour when he saw the face of the + offender. “Saints in heaven!” he murmured almost audibly, “what a look of + that woman; and yet—no—it is gone!” + </p> + <p> + “Who is that gentleman?” he asked abruptly, as he paid for his book. + </p> + <p> + The shopman smiled, but answered, “I don’t know, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s a lie! You would never bow so low to a man you did not know!” + </p> + <p> + The shopman smiled again. “Why, sir, there are many who come to this house + who don’t wish us to know them.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I understand; you are political publishers,—afraid of libels, I + dare say. Always the same thing in this cursed country; and then they tell + us we are ‘free!’ So I suppose that gentleman has written something + William Pitt does not like. But William Pitt—ha—he’s dead! + Very true, so he is! Sir, this little book seems most excellent; but in my + time, a man would have been sent to Newgate for printing it.” While thus + running on, Mr. Tomkins had edged himself pretty close to the recess + within which the last-comer had disappeared; and there, seated on a high + stool, he contrived to read and to talk at the same time, but his eye and + his ear were both turned every instant towards the recess. + </p> + <p> + The shopman, little suspecting that in so very eccentric, garrulous a + person he was permitting a spy to encroach upon the secrets of the house, + continued to make up sundry parcels of the new publication which had so + enchanted his customer, while he expatiated on the prodigious sensation + the book had created, and while the customer himself had already caught + enough of the low conversation within the recess to be aware that the + author of the book was the very person who had so roused his curiosity. + </p> + <p> + Not till that gentleman, followed to the door by the polite publisher, had + quitted the shop, did Mr. Tomkins put this volume in his pocket, and, with + a familiar nod at the shopman, take himself off. + </p> + <p> + He was scarcely in the street when he saw Percival St. John leaning out of + his cabriolet and conversing with the author he had discovered. He halted + a moment irresolute; but the young man, in whom our reader recognizes John + Ardworth, declining St. John’s invitation to accompany him to Brompton, + resumed his way through the throng; the cabriolet drove on; and Mr. + Tomkins, though with a graver mien and a steadier step, continued his + desultory rambles. Meanwhile, John Ardworth strode gloomily back to his + lonely chamber. + </p> + <p> + There, throwing himself on the well-worn chair before the crowded desk, he + buried his face in his hands, and for some minutes he felt all that + profound despondency peculiar to those who have won fame, to add to the + dark volume of experience the conviction of fame’s nothingness. For some + minutes he felt an illiberal and ungrateful envy of St. John, so fair, so + light-hearted, so favoured by fortune, so rich in friends,—in a + mother’s love, and in Helen’s half-plighted troth. And he, from his very + birth, cut off from the social ties of blood; no mother’s kiss to reward + the toils or gladden the sports of childhood; no father’s cheering word up + the steep hill of man! And Helen, for whose sake he had so often, when his + heart grew weary, nerved himself again to labour, saying, “Let me be rich, + let me be great, and then I will dare to tell Helen that I love her!”—Helen + smiling upon another, unconscious of his pangs! What could fame bestow in + compensation? What matter that strangers praised, and the babble of the + world’s running stream lingered its brief moment round the pebble in its + way. In the bitterness of his mood, he was unjust to his rival. All that + exquisite but half-concealed treasure of imagination and thought which lay + beneath the surface of Helen’s childlike smile he believed that he alone—he, + soul of power and son of genius—was worthy to discover and to prize. + In the pride not unfrequent with that kingliest of all aristocracies, the + Chiefs of Intellect, he forgot the grandeur which invests the attributes + of the heart; forgot that, in the lists of love, the heart is at least the + equal of the mind. In the reaction that follows great excitement, Ardworth + had morbidly felt, that day, his utter solitude,—felt it in the + streets through which he had passed; in the home to which he had returned; + the burning tears, shed for the first time since childhood, forced + themselves through his clasped fingers. At length he rose, with a strong + effort at self-mastery, some contempt of his weakness, and much remorse at + his ungrateful envy. He gathered together the soiled manuscript and dingy + proofs of his book, and thrust them through the grimy bars of his grate; + then, opening his desk, he drew out a small packet, with tremulous fingers + unfolding paper after paper, and gazed, with eyes still moistened, on the + relics kept till then in the devotion of the only sentiment inspired by + Eros that had ever, perhaps, softened his iron nature. These were two + notes from Helen, some violets she had once given him, and a little purse + she had knitted for him (with a playful prophecy of future fortunes) when + he had last left the vicarage. Nor blame him, ye who, with more habitual + romance of temper, and richer fertility of imagination, can reconcile the + tenderest memories with the sternest duties, if he, with all his strength, + felt that the associations connected with those tokens would but enervate + his resolves and embitter his resignation. You can guess not the extent of + the sacrifice, the bitterness of the pang, when, averting his head, he + dropped those relics on the hearth. The evidence of the desultory + ambition, the tokens of the visionary love,—the same flame leaped up + to devour both! It was as the funeral pyre of his youth! + </p> + <p> + “So,” he said to himself, “let all that can divert me from the true ends + of my life consume! Labour, take back your son.” + </p> + <p> + An hour afterwards, and his clerk, returning home, found Ardworth employed + as calmly as usual on his Law Reports. + </p> + <p> + <a name="Blink2HCH0026" id="Blink2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. THE INVITATION TO LAUGHTON. + </h2> + <p> + That day, when he called at Brompton, Percival reported to Madame Dalibard + his interview with the eccentric Mr. Tomkins. Lucretia seemed chafed and + disconcerted by the inquiries with which that gentleman had honoured her, + and as soon as Percival had gone, she sent for Varney. He did not come + till late; she repeated to him what St. John had said of the stranger. + Varney participated in her uneasy alarm. The name, indeed, was unknown to + them, nor could they conjecture the bearer of so ordinary a patronymic; + but there had been secrets enough in Lucretia’s life to render her + apprehensive of encountering those who had known her in earlier years; and + Varney feared lest any rumour reported to St. John might create his + mistrust, or lessen the hold obtained upon a victim heretofore so + unsuspicious. They both agreed in the expediency of withdrawing themselves + and St. John as soon as possible from London, and frustrating Percival’s + chance of closer intercourse with the stranger, who had evidently aroused + his curiosity. + </p> + <p> + The next day Helen was much indisposed; and the symptoms grew so grave + towards the evening that Madame Dalibard expressed alarm, and willingly + suffered Percival (who had only been permitted to see Helen for a few + minutes, when her lassitude was so extreme that she was obliged to retire + to her room) to go in search of a physician. He returned with one of the + most eminent of the faculty. On the way to Brompton, in reply to the + questions of Dr. ——, Percival spoke of the dejection to which + Helen was occasionally subject, and this circumstance confirmed Dr. + ——, after he had seen his patient, in his view of the case. In + addition to some feverish and inflammatory symptoms which he trusted his + prescriptions would speedily remove, he found great nervous debility, and + willingly fell in with the casual suggestion of Varney, who was present, + that a change of air would greatly improve Miss Mainwaring’s general + health, as soon as the temporary acute attack had subsided. He did not + regard the present complaint very seriously, and reassured poor Percival + by his cheerful mien and sanguine predictions. Percival remained at the + house the whole day, and had the satisfaction, before he left, of hearing + that the remedies had already abated the fever, and that Helen had fallen + into a profound sleep. Walking back to town with Varney, the last said + hesitatingly,— + </p> + <p> + “You were saying to me the other day that you feared you should have to go + for a few days both to Vernon Grange and to Laughton, as your steward + wished to point out to you some extensive alterations in the management of + your woods to commence this autumn. As you were so soon coming of age, + Lady Mary desired that her directions should yield to your own. Now, since + Helen is recommended change of air, why not invite Madame Dalibard to + visit you at one of these places? I would suggest Laughton. My poor + mother-in-law I know longs to revisit the scenes of her youth, and you + could not compliment or conciliate her more than by such an invitation.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Percival, joyfully, “it would realize the fondest dream of my + heart to see Helen under the old roof-tree of Laughton; but as my mother + is abroad, and there is therefore no lady to receive them, perhaps—” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” interrupted Varney, “Madame Dalibard herself is almost the very + person whom les bienseances might induce you to select to do the honours + of your house in Lady Mary’s absence, not only as kinswoman to yourself, + but as the nearest surviving relative of Sir Miles,—the most + immediate descendant of the St. Johns; her mature years and decorum of + life, her joint kindred to Helen and yourself, surely remove every + appearance of impropriety.” + </p> + <p> + “If she thinks so, certainly; I am no accurate judge of such formalities. + You could not oblige me more, Varney, than in pre-obtaining her consent to + the proposal. Helen at Laughton! Oh, blissful thought!” + </p> + <p> + “And in what air would she be so likely to revive?” said Varney; but his + voice was thick and husky. + </p> + <p> + The ideas thus presented to him almost banished anxiety from Percival’s + breast. In a thousand delightful shapes they haunted him during the + sleepless night; and when, the next morning, he found that Helen was + surprisingly better, he pressed his invitation upon Madame Dalibard with a + warmth that made her cheek yet more pale, and the hand, which the boy + grasped as he pleaded, as cold as the dead. But she briefly consented, and + Percival, allowed a brief interview with Helen, had the rapture to see her + smile in a delight as childlike as his own at the news he communicated, + and listen with swimming eye when he dwelt on the walks they should take + together amidst haunts to become henceforth dear to her as to himself. + Fairyland dawned before them. + </p> + <p> + The visit of the physician justified Percival’s heightened spirits. All + the acuter symptoms had vanished already. He sanctioned his patient’s + departure from town as soon as Madame Dalibard’s convenience would permit, + and recommended only a course of restorative medicines to strengthen the + nervous system, which was to commence with the following morning, and be + persisted in for some weeks. He dwelt much on the effect to be derived + from taking these medicines the first thing in the day, as soon as Helen + woke. Varney and Madame Dalibard exchanged a rapid glance. Charmed with + the success that in this instance had attended the skill of the great + physician, Percival, in his usual zealous benevolence, now eagerly pressed + upon Madame Dalibard the wisdom of consulting Dr. —— for her + own malady; and the doctor, putting on his spectacles and drawing his + chair nearer to the frowning cripple, began to question her of her state. + But Madame Dalibard abruptly and discourteously put a stop to all + interrogatories: she had already exhausted all remedies art could suggest; + she had become reconciled to her deplorable infirmity, and lost all faith + in physicians. Some day or other she might try the baths at Egra, but till + then she must be permitted to suffer undisturbed. + </p> + <p> + The doctor, by no means wishing to undertake a case of chronic paralysis, + rose smilingly, and with a liberal confession that the German baths were + sometimes extremely efficacious in such complaints, pressed Percival’s + outstretched hand, then slipped his own into his pocket, and bowed his way + out of the room. + </p> + <p> + Relieved from all apprehension, Percival very good-humouredly received the + hint of Madame Dalibard that the excitement through which she had gone for + the last twenty-four hours rendered her unfit for his society, and went + home to write to Laughton and prepare all things for the reception of his + guests. Varney accompanied him. Percival found Beck in the hall, already + much altered, and embellished, by a new suit of livery. The ex-sweeper + stared hard at Varney, who, without recognizing, in so smart a shape, the + squalid tatterdemalion who had lighted him up the stairs to Mr. Grabman’s + apartments, passed him by into Percival’s little study, on the + ground-floor. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Beck,” said Percival, ever mindful of others, and attributing his + groom’s astonished gaze at Varney to his admiration of that gentleman’s + showy exterior, “I shall send you down to the country to-morrow with two + of the horses; so you may have to-day to yourself to take leave of your + nurse. I flatter myself you will find her rooms a little more comfortable + than they were yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + Beck heard with a bursting heart; and his master, giving him a cheering + tap on the shoulder, left him to find his way into the streets and to + Becky’s abode. + </p> + <p> + He found, indeed, that the last had already undergone the magic + transformation which is ever at the command of godlike wealth. Mrs. + Mivers, who was naturally prompt and active, had had pleasure in executing + Percival’s commission. Early in the morning, floors had been scrubbed, the + windows cleaned, the ventilator fixed; then followed porters with chairs + and tables, and a wonderful Dutch clock, and new bedding, and a bright + piece of carpet; and then came two servants belonging to Mrs. Mivers to + arrange the chattels; and finally, when all was nearly completed, the + Avatar of Mrs. Mivers herself, to give the last finish with her own + mittened hands and in her own housewifely apron. + </p> + <p> + The good lady was still employed in ranging a set of teacups on the + shelves of the dresser when Beck entered; and his old nurse, in the + overflow of her gratitude, hobbled up to her foundling and threw her arms + round his neck. + </p> + <p> + “That’s right!” said Mrs. Mivers, good-humouredly, turning round, and + wiping the tear from her eye. “You ought to make much of him, poor lad,—he + has turned out a godsend indeed; and, upon my word, he looks very + respectable in his new clothes. But what is this,—a child’s coral?” + as, opening a drawer in the dresser, she discovered Beck’s treasure. “Dear + me, it is a very handsome one; why, these bells look like gold!” and + suspicion of her protege’s honesty for a moment contracted her thoughtful + brow. “However on earth did you come by this, Mrs. Becky?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure and sartin,” answered Becky, dropping her mutilated courtesy, “I + be’s glad it be found now, instead of sum days afore, or I might have been + vicked enough to let it go with the rest to the pop-shop; and I’m sure the + times out of mind ven that ‘ere boy was a h-urchin that I’ve risted the + timtashung and said, ‘No, Becky Carruthers, that maun’t go to my + h-uncle’s!’” + </p> + <p> + “And why not, my good woman?” + </p> + <p> + “Lor’ love you, marm, if that curril could speak, who knows vot it might + say,—eh, lad, who knows? You sees, marm, my good man had not a long + been dead; I could not a get no vork no vays. ‘Becky Carruthers,’ says I, + ‘you must go out in the streets a begging!’ I niver thought I should a + come to that. But my poor husband, you sees, marm, fell from a scaffol’,—as + good a man as hever—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, you told me all that before,” said Mrs. Mivers, growing + impatient, and already diverted from her interest in the coral by a new + cargo, all bright from the tinman, which, indeed, no less instantaneously, + absorbed the admiration both of Beck and his nurse. And what with the + inspection of these articles, and the comments each provoked, the coral + rested in peace on the dresser till Mrs. Mivers, when just about to renew + her inquiries, was startled by the sound of the Dutch clock striking four,—a + voice which reminded her of the lapse of time and her own dinner-hour. So, + with many promises to call again and have a good chat with her humble + friend, she took her departure, amidst the blessings of Becky, and the + less noisy, but not less grateful, salutations of Beck. + </p> + <p> + Very happy was the evening these poor creatures passed together over their + first cup of tea from the new bright copper kettle and the almost + forgotten luxury of crumpets, in which their altered circumstances + permitted them without extravagance to indulge. In the course of + conversation Beck communicated how much he had been astonished by + recognizing the visitor of Grabman, the provoker of the irritable + grave-stealer, in the familiar companion of his master; and when Becky + told him how often, in the domestic experience her vocation of charing had + accumulated, she had heard of the ruin brought on rich young men by + gamblers and sharpers, Beck promised to himself to keep a sharp eye on + Grabman’s showy acquaintance. “For master is but a babe, like,” said he, + majestically; “and I’d be cut into mincemeat afore I’d let an ‘air on his + ‘ead come to ‘arm, if so be’s h-as ‘ow I could perwent it.” + </p> + <p> + We need not say that his nurse confirmed him in these good resolutions. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said Beck, when the time came for parting, “you’ll keep from + the gin-shop, old ‘oman, and not shame the young master?” + </p> + <p> + “Sartin sure,” answered Becky; “it is only ven vun is down in the vorld + that vun goes to the Ticker-shop. Now, h-indeed,”—and she looked + round very proudly,—“I ‘as a ‘spectable stashion, and I vould n’t go + for to lower it, and let ‘em say that Becky Carruthers does not know how + to conduct herself. The curril will be safe enuff now; but p’r’aps you had + best take it yourself, lad.” + </p> + <p> + “Vot should I do vith it? I’ve had enuff of the ‘sponsibility. Put it up + in a ‘ankerchiff, and p’r’aps ven master gets married, and ‘as a babby + vots teethin’, he vil say, ‘Thank ye, Beck, for your curril.’ Vould not + that make us proud, mammy?” + </p> + <p> + Chuckling heartily at that vision, Beck kissed his nurse, and trying hard + to keep himself upright, and do credit to the dignity of his cloth, + returned to his new room over the stables. + </p> + <p> + <a name="Blink2HCH0027" id="Blink2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. THE WAKING OF THE SERPENT. + </h2> + <p> + And how, O Poet of the sad belief, and eloquence “like ebony, at once dark + and splendid [It was said of Tertullian that ‘his style was like ebony, + dark and splendid’],” how couldst thou, august Lucretius, deem it but + sweet to behold from the steep the strife of the great sea, or, safe from + the peril, gaze on the wrath of the battle, or, serene in the temples of + the wise, look afar on the wanderings of human error? Is it so sweet to + survey the ills from which thou art delivered? Shall not the strong law of + SYMPATHY find thee out, and thy heart rebuke thy philosophy? Not sweet, + indeed, can be man’s shelter in self when he says to the storm, “I have no + bark on the sea;” or to the gods of the battle, “I have no son in the + slaughter;” when he smiles unmoved upon Woe, and murmurs, “Weep on, for + these eyes know no tears;” when, unappalled, he beholdeth the black deeds + of crime, and cries to his conscience, “Thou art calm.” Yet solemn is the + sight to him who lives in all life,—seeks for Nature in the storm, + and Providence in the battle; loses self in the woe; probes his heart in + the crime; and owns no philosophy that sets him free from the fetters of + man. Not in vain do we scan all the contrasts in the large framework of + civilized earth if we note “when the dust groweth into hardness, and the + clods cleave fast together.” Range, O Art, through all space, clasp + together in extremes, shake idle wealth from its lethargy, and bid States + look in hovels where the teacher is dumb, and Reason unweeded runs to rot! + Bid haughty Intellect pause in its triumph, and doubt if intellect alone + can deliver the soul from its tempters! Only that lives uncorrupt which + preserves in all seasons the human affections in which the breath of God + breathes and is. Go forth to the world, O Art, go forth to the innocent, + the guilty, the wise, and the dull; go forth as the still voice of Fate! + Speak of the insecurity even of goodness below; carry on the rapt vision + of suffering Virtue through “the doors of the shadows of death;” show the + dim revelation symbolled forth in the Tragedy of old,—how incomplete + is man’s destiny, how undeveloped is the justice divine, if Antigone sleep + eternally in the ribs of the rock, and Oedipus vanish forever in the Grove + of the Furies. Here below, “the waters are hid with a stone, and the face + of the deep is frozen;” but above liveth He “who can bind the sweet + influence of the Pleiades, and loose the bands of Orion.” Go with Fate + over the bridge, and she vanishes in the land beyond the gulf! Behold + where the Eternal demands Eternity for the progress of His creatures and + the vindication of His justice! + </p> + <p> + It was past midnight, and Lucretia sat alone in her dreary room; her head + buried on her bosom, her eyes fixed on the ground, her hands resting on + her knees,—it was an image of inanimate prostration and decrepitude + that might have moved compassion to its depth. The door opened, and Martha + entered, to assist Madame Dalibard, as usual, to retire to rest. Her + mistress slowly raised her eyes at the noise of the opening door, and + those eyes took their searching, penetrating acuteness as they fixed upon + the florid nor uncomely countenance of the waiting-woman. + </p> + <p> + In her starched cap, her sober-coloured stuff gown, in her prim, quiet + manner and a certain sanctified demureness of aspect, there was something + in the first appearance of this woman that impressed you with the notion + of respectability, and inspired confidence in those steady good qualities + which we seek in a trusty servant. But more closely examined, an habitual + observer might have found much to qualify, perhaps to disturb, his first + prepossessions. The exceeding lowness of the forehead, over which that + stiff, harsh hair was so puritanically parted; the severe hardness of + those thin, small lips, so pursed up and constrained; even a certain dull + cruelty in those light, cold blue eyes,—might have caused an uneasy + sentiment, almost approaching to fear. The fat grocer’s spoilt child + instinctively recoiled from her when she entered the shop to make her + household purchases; the old, gray-whiskered terrier dog at the + public-house slunk into the tap when she crossed the threshold. + </p> + <p> + Madame Dalibard silently suffered herself to be wheeled into the adjoining + bedroom, and the process of disrobing was nearly completed before she said + abruptly,— + </p> + <p> + “So you attended Mr. Varney’s uncle in his last illness. Did he suffer + much?” + </p> + <p> + “He was a poor creature at best,” answered Martha; “but he gave me a deal + of trouble afore he went. He was a scranny corpse when I strecked him + out.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Dalibard shrank from the hands at that moment employed upon + herself, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “It was not, then, the first corpse you have laid out for the grave?” + </p> + <p> + “Not by many.” + </p> + <p> + “And did any of those you so prepared die of the same complaint?” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t say, I’m sure,” returned Martha. “I never inquires how folks die; + my bizness was to nurse ‘em till all was over, and then to sit up. As they + say in my country, ‘Riving Pike wears a hood when the weather bodes ill.’” + [If Riving Pike do wear a hood, The day, be sure, will ne’er be good. A + Lancashire Distich.] + </p> + <p> + “And when you sat up with Mr. Varney’s uncle, did you feel no fear in the + dead of the night,—that corpse before you, no fear?” + </p> + <p> + “Young Mr. Varney said I should come to no harm. Oh, he’s a clever man! + What should I fear, ma’am?” answered Martha, with a horrid simplicity. + </p> + <p> + “You have belonged to a very religious sect, I think I have heard you say,—a + sect not unfamiliar to me; a sect to which great crime is very rarely + known?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma’am, some of ‘em be tame enough, but others be weel [whirlpool] + deep!” + </p> + <p> + “You do not believe what they taught you?” + </p> + <p> + “I did when I was young and silly.” + </p> + <p> + “And what disturbed your belief?” + </p> + <p> + “Ma’am, the man what taught me, and my mother afore me, was the first I + ever kep’ company with,” answered Martha, without a change in her florid + hue, which seemed fixed in her cheek, as the red in an autumn leaf. “After + he had ruined me, as the girls say, he told me as how it was all sham!” + </p> + <p> + “You loved him, then?” + </p> + <p> + “The man was well enough, ma’am, and he behaved handsome and got me a + husband. I’ve known better days.” + </p> + <p> + “You sleep well at night?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma’am, thank you; I loves my bed.” + </p> + <p> + “I have done with you,” said Madame Dalibard, stifling a groan, as now, + placed in her bed, she turned to the wall. Martha extinguished the candle, + leaving it on the table by the bed, with a book and a box of matches, for + Madame Dalibard was a bad sleeper, and often read in the night. She then + drew the curtains and went her way. + </p> + <p> + It might be an hour after Martha had retired to rest that a hand was + stretched from the bed, that the candle was lighted, and Lucretia Dalibard + rose; with a sudden movement she threw aside the coverings, and stood in + her long night-gear on the floor. Yes, the helpless, paralyzed cripple + rose, was on her feet,—tall, elastic, erect! It was as a + resuscitation from the grave. Never was change more startling than that + simple action effected,—not in the form alone, but the whole + character of the face. The solitary light streamed upward on a countenance + on every line of which spoke sinister power and strong resolve. If you had + ever seen her before in her false, crippled state, prostrate and helpless, + and could have seen her then,—those eyes, if haggard still, now full + of life and vigour; that frame, if spare, towering aloft in commanding + stature, perfect in its proportions as a Grecian image of Nemesis,—your + amaze would have merged into terror, so preternatural did the + transformation appear, so did aspect and bearing contradict the very + character of her sex, uniting the two elements most formidable in man or + in fiend,—wickedness and power. + </p> + <p> + She stood a moment motionless, breathing loud, as if it were a joy to + breathe free from restraint; and then, lifting the light, and gliding to + the adjoining room, she unlocked a bureau in the corner, and bent over a + small casket, which she opened with a secret spring. + </p> + <p> + Reader, cast back your eye to that passage in this history when Lucretia + Clavering took down the volume from the niche in the tapestried chamber at + Laughton, and numbered, in thought, the hours left to her uncle’s life. + Look back on the ungrateful thought; behold how it has swelled and ripened + into the guilty deed! There, in that box, Death guards his treasure crypt. + There, all the science of Hades numbers its murderous inventions. As she + searched for the ingredients her design had pre-selected, something + heavier than those small packets she deranged fell to the bottom of the + box with a low and hollow sound. She started at the noise, and then + smiled, in scorn of her momentary fear, as she took up the ring that had + occasioned the sound,—a ring plain and solid, like those used as + signets in the Middle Ages, with a large dull opal in the centre. What + secret could that bauble have in common with its ghastly companions in + Death’s crypt? This had been found amongst Olivier’s papers; a note in + that precious manuscript, which had given to the hands of his successors + the keys of the grave, had discovered the mystery of its uses. By the + pressure of the hand, at the touch of a concealed spring, a barbed point + flew forth steeped in venom more deadly than the Indian extracts from the + bag of the cobar de capello,—a venom to which no antidote is known, + which no test can detect. It corrupts the whole mass of the blood; it + mounts in frenzy and fire to the brain; it rends the soul from the body in + spasm and convulsion. But examine the dead, and how divine the effect of + the cause! How go back to the records of the Borgias, and amidst all the + scepticisms of times in which, happily, such arts are unknown, + unsuspected, learn from the hero of Machiavel how a clasp of the hand can + get rid of a foe! Easier and more natural to point to the living puncture + in the skin, and the swollen flesh round it, and dilate on the danger a + rusty nail—nay, a pin—can engender when the humours are + peccant and the blood is impure! The fabrication of that bauble, the + discovery of Borgia’s device, was the masterpiece in the science of + Dalibard,—a curious and philosophical triumph of research, hitherto + unused by its inventor and his heirs; for that casket is rich in the + choice of more gentle materials: but the use yet may come. As she gazed on + the ring, there was a complacent and proud expression on Lucretia’s face. + </p> + <p> + “Dumb token of Caesar Borgia,” she murmured,—“him of the wisest head + and the boldest hand that ever grasped at empire, whom Machiavel, the + virtuous, rightly praised as the model of accomplished ambition! Why + should I falter in the paths which he trod with his royal step, only + because my goal is not a throne? Every circle is as complete in itself, + whether rounding a globule or a star. Why groan in the belief that the + mind defiles itself by the darkness through which it glides on its object, + or the mire through which it ascends to the hill? Murderer as he was, + poisoner, and fratricide, did blood clog his intellect, or crime + impoverish the luxury of his genius? Was his verse less melodious [It is + well known that Caesar Borgia was both a munificent patron and an + exquisite appreciator of art; well known also are his powers of persuasion + but the general reader may not, perhaps, be acquainted with the fact that + this terrible criminal was also a poet], or his love of art less intense, + or his eloquence less persuasive, because he sought to remove every + barrier, revenge every wrong, crush every foe?” + </p> + <p> + In the wondrous corruption to which her mind had descended, thus murmured + Lucretia. Intellect had been so long made her sole god that the very + monster of history was lifted to her reverence by his ruthless intellect + alone,—lifted in that mood of feverish excitement when conscience, + often less silenced, lay crushed, under the load of the deed to come, into + an example and a guide. + </p> + <p> + Though at times, when looking back, oppressed by the blackest despair, no + remorse of the past ever weakened those nerves when the Hour called up its + demon, and the Will ruled the rest of the human being as a machine. + </p> + <p> + She replaced the ring, she reclosed the casket, relocked its depository; + then passed again into the adjoining chamber. + </p> + <p> + A few minutes afterwards, and the dim light that stole from the heavens + (in which the moon was partially overcast) through the casement on the + staircase rested on a shapeless figure robed in black from head to foot,—a + figure so obscure and undefinable in outline, so suited to the gloom in + its hue, so stealthy and rapid in its movements, that had you started from + sleep and seen it on your floor, you would perforce have deemed that your + fancy had befooled you! + </p> + <p> + Thus darkly, through the darkness, went the Poisoner to her prey. + </p> + <p> + <a name="Blink2HCH0028" id="Blink2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. RETROSPECT. + </h2> + <p> + We have now arrived at that stage in this history when it is necessary to + look back on the interval in Lucretia’s life,—between the death of + Dalibard, and her reintroduction in the second portion of our tale. + </p> + <p> + One day, without previous notice or warning, Lucretia arrived at William + Mainwaring’s house; she was in the deep weeds of widowhood, and that garb + of mourning sufficed to add Susan’s tenderest commiseration to the warmth + of her affectionate welcome. Lucretia appeared to have forgiven the past, + and to have conquered its more painful recollections; she was gentle to + Susan, though she rather suffered than returned her caresses; she was open + and frank to William. Both felt inexpressibly grateful for her visit, the + forgiveness it betokened, and the confidence it implied. At this time no + condition could be more promising and prosperous than that of the young + banker. From the first the most active partner in the bank, he had now + virtually almost monopolized the business. The senior partner was old and + infirm; the second had a bucolic turn, and was much taken up by the care + of a large farm he had recently purchased; so that Mainwaring, more and + more trusted and honoured, became the sole managing administrator of the + firm. Business throve in his able hands; and with patient and steady + perseverance there was little doubt but that, before middle age was + attained, his competence would have swelled into a fortune sufficient to + justify him in realizing the secret dream of his heart,—the + parliamentary representation of the town, in which he had already secured + the affection and esteem of the inhabitants. + </p> + <p> + It was not long before Lucretia detected the ambition William’s industry + but partially concealed; it was not long before, with the ascendency + natural to her will and her talents, she began to exercise considerable, + though unconscious, influence over a man in whom a thousand good qualities + and some great talents were unhappily accompanied by infirm purpose and + weak resolutions. The ordinary conversation of Lucretia unsettled his mind + and inflamed his vanity,—a conversation able, aspiring, full both of + knowledge drawn from books and of that experience of public men which her + residence in Paris (whereon, with its new and greater Charlemagne, the + eyes of the world were turned) had added to her acquisitions in the lore + of human life. Nothing more disturbs a mind like William Mainwaring’s than + that species of eloquence which rebukes its patience in the present by + inflaming all its hopes in the future. Lucretia had none of the charming + babble of women, none of that tender interest in household details, in the + minutiae of domestic life, which relaxes the intellect while softening the + heart. Hard and vigorous, her sentences came forth in eternal appeal to + the reason, or address to the sterner passions in which love has no share. + Beside this strong thinker, poor Susan’s sweet talk seemed frivolous and + inane. Her soft hold upon Mainwaring loosened. He ceased to consult her + upon business; he began to repine that the partner of his lot could have + little sympathy with his dreams. More often and more bitterly now did his + discontented glance, in his way homeward, rove to the rooftops of the + rural member for the town; more eagerly did he read the parliamentary + debates; more heavily did he sigh at the thought of eloquence denied a + vent, and ambition delayed in its career. + </p> + <p> + When arrived at this state of mind, Lucretia’s conversation took a more + worldly, a more practical turn. Her knowledge of the speculators of Paris + instructed her pictures of bold ingenuity creating sudden wealth; she + spoke of fortunes made in a day,—of parvenus bursting into + millionnaires; of wealth as the necessary instrument of ambition, as the + arch ruler of the civilized world. Never once, be it observed, in these + temptations, did Lucretia address herself to the heart; the ordinary + channels of vulgar seduction were disdained by her. She would not have + stooped so low as Mainwaring’s love, could she have commanded or allured + it; she was willing to leave to Susan the husband reft from her own + passionate youth, but leave him with the brand on his brow and the worm at + his heart,—a scoff and a wreck. + </p> + <p> + At this time there was in that market-town one of those adventurous, + speculative men, who are the more dangerous impostors because imposed upon + by their own sanguine chimeras, who have a plausibility in their + calculations, an earnestness in their arguments, which account for the + dupes they daily make in our most sober and wary of civilized communities. + Unscrupulous in their means, yet really honest in the belief that their + objects can be attained, they are at once the rogues and fanatics of + Mammon. This person was held to have been fortunate in some adroit + speculations in the corn trade, and he was brought too frequently into + business with Mainwaring not to be a frequent visitor at the house. In him + Lucretia saw the very instrument of her design. She led him on to talk of + business as a game, of money as a realizer of cent per cent; she drew him + into details, she praised him, she admired. In his presence she seemed + only to hear him; in his absence, musingly, she started from silence to + exclaim on the acuteness of his genius and the accuracy of his figures. + Soon the tempter at Mainwaring’s heart gave signification to these + praises, soon this adventurer became his most intimate friend. Scarcely + knowing why, never ascribing the change to her sister, poor Susan wept, + amazed at Mainwaring’s transformation. No care now for the new books from + London, or the roses in the garden; the music on the instrument was + unheeded. Books, roses, music,—what are those trifles to a man + thinking upon cent per cent? Mainwaring’s very countenance altered; it + lost its frank, affectionate beauty: sullen, abstracted, morose, it showed + that some great care was at the core. Then Lucretia herself began + grievingly to notice the change to Susan; gradually she altered her tone + with regard to the speculator, and hinted vague fears, and urged Susan’s + remonstrance and warning. As she had anticipated, warning and remonstrance + came in vain to the man who, comparing Lucretia’s mental power to Susan’s, + had learned to despise the unlearned, timid sense of the latter. + </p> + <p> + It is unnecessary to trace this change in Mainwaring step by step, or to + measure the time which sufficed to dazzle his reason and blind his honour. + In the midst of schemes and hopes which the lust of gold now pervaded came + a thunderbolt. An anonymous letter to the head partner of the bank + provoked suspicions that led to minute examination of the accounts. It + seemed that sums had been irregularly advanced (upon bills drawn by men of + straw) to the speculator by Mainwaring; and the destination of these sums + could be traced to gambling operations in trade in which Mainwaring had a + private interest and partnership. So great, as we have said, had been the + confidence placed in William’s abilities and honour that the facilities + afforded him in the disposal of the joint stock far exceeded those usually + granted to the partner of a firm, and the breach of trust appeared the + more flagrant from the extent of the confidence misplaced. Meanwhile, + William Mainwaring, though as yet unconscious of the proceedings of his + partners, was gnawed by anxiety and remorse, not unmixed with hope. He + depended upon the result of a bold speculation in the purchase of shares + in a Canal Company, a bill for which was then before parliament, with (as + he was led to believe) a certainty of success. The sums he had, on his own + responsibility, abstracted from the joint account were devoted to this + adventure. But, to do him justice, he never dreamed of appropriating the + profits anticipated to himself. Though knowing that the bills on which the + moneys had been advanced were merely nominal deposits, he had confidently + calculated on the certainty of success for the speculations to which the + proceeds so obtained were devoted, and he looked forward to the moment + when he might avow what he had done, and justify it by doubling the + capital withdrawn. But to his inconceivable horror, the bill of the Canal + Company was rejected in the Lords; the shares bought at a premium went + down to zero; and to add to his perplexity, the speculator abruptly + disappeared from the town. In this crisis he was summoned to meet his + indignant associates. + </p> + <p> + The evidence against him was morally damning, if not legally conclusive. + The unhappy man heard all in the silence of despair. Crushed and + bewildered, he attempted no defence. He asked but an hour to sum up the + losses of the bank and his own; they amounted within a few hundreds to the + 10,000 pounds he had brought to the firm, and which, in the absence of + marriage-settlements, was entirely at his own disposal. This sum he at + once resigned to his associates, on condition that they should defray from + it his personal liabilities. The money thus repaid, his partners naturally + relinquished all further inquiry. They were moved by pity for one so + gifted and so fallen,—they even offered him a subordinate but + lucrative situation in the firm in which he had been partner; but + Mainwaring wanted the patience and resolution to work back the redemption + of his name,—perhaps, ultimately, of his fortunes. In the fatal + anguish of his shame and despair, he fled from the town; his flight + confirmed forever the rumours against him,—rumours worse than the + reality. It was long before he even admitted Susan to the knowledge of the + obscure refuge he had sought; there, at length, she joined him. Meanwhile, + what did Lucretia? She sold nearly half of her own fortune, constituted + principally of the moiety of her portion which, at Dalibard’s death, had + passed to herself as survivor, and partly of the share in her deceased + husband’s effects which the French law awarded to her, and with the + proceeds of this sum she purchased an annuity for her victims. Was this + strange generosity the act of mercy, the result of repentance? No; it was + one of the not least subtle and delicious refinements of her revenge. To + know him who had rejected her, the rival who had supplanted, the miserable + pensioners of her bounty, was dear to her haughty and disdainful hate. The + lust of power, ever stronger in her than avarice, more than reconciled her + to the sacrifice of gold. Yes, here she, the despised, the degraded, had + power still; her wrath had ruined the fortunes of her victim, blasted the + repute, embittered and desolated evermore the future,—now her + contemptuous charity fed the wretched lives that she spared in scorn. She + had no small difficulty, it is true, in persuading Susan to accept this + sacrifice, and she did so only by sustaining her sister’s belief that the + past could yet be retrieved, that Mainwaring’s energies could yet rebuild + their fortunes, and that as the annuity was at any time redeemable, the + aid therefore was only temporary. With this understanding, Susan, + overwhelmed with gratitude, weeping and broken-hearted, departed to join + the choice of her youth. As the men deputed by the auctioneer to arrange + and ticket the furniture for sale entered the desolate house, Lucretia + then, with the step of a conqueror, passed from the threshold. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” she murmured, as she paused, and gazed on the walls, “ah, they were + happy when I first entered those doors,—happy in each other’s + tranquil love; happier still when they deemed I had forgiven the wrong and + abjured the past! How honoured was then their home! How knew I then, for + the first time, what the home of love can be! And who had destroyed for + me, upon all the earth, a home like theirs? They on whom that home smiled + with its serene and taunting peace! I—I, the guest! I—I, the + abandoned, the betrayed,—what dark memories were on my soul, what a + hell boiled within my bosom! Well might those memories take each a voice + to accuse them; well, from that hell, might rise the Alecto! Their lives + were in my power, my fatal dowry at my command,—rapid death, or + slow, consuming torture; but to have seen each cheer the other to the + grave, lighting every downward step with the eyes of love,—vengeance + so urged would have fallen only on myself! Ha! deceiver, didst thou plume + thyself, forsooth, on spotless reputation? Didst thou stand, me by thy + side, amongst thy perjured household gods and talk of honour? Thy home, it + is reft from thee; thy reputation, it is a scoff; thine honour, it is a + ghost that shall haunt thee! Thy love, can it linger yet? Shall the soft + eyes of thy wife not burn into thy heart, and shame turn love into + loathing? Wrecks of my vengeance, minions of my bounty, I did well to let + ye live; I shake the dust from my feet on your threshold. Live on, + homeless, hopeless, and childless! The curse is fulfilled!” + </p> + <p> + From that hour Lucretia never paused from her career to inquire further of + her victims; she never entered into communication with either. They knew + not her address nor her fate, nor she theirs. As she had reckoned, + Mainwaring made no effort to recover himself from his fall. All the high + objects that had lured his ambition were gone from him evermore. No place + in the State, no authority in the senate, awaits in England the man with a + blighted name. For the lesser objects of life he had no heart and no care. + They lived in obscurity in a small village in Cornwall till the Peace + allowed them to remove to France; the rest of their fate is known. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Lucretia removed to one of those smaller Londons, resorts of + pleasure and idleness, with which rich England abounds, and in which + widows of limited income can make poverty seem less plebeian. And now, to + all those passions that had hitherto raged within her, a dismal apathy + succeeded. It was the great calm in her sea of life. The winds fell, and + the sails drooped. Her vengeance satisfied, that which she had made so + preternaturally the main object of existence, once fulfilled, left her in + youth objectless. + </p> + <p> + She strove at first to take pleasure in the society of the place; but its + frivolities and pettiness of purpose soon wearied that masculine and + grasping mind, already made insensible to the often healthful, often + innocent, excitement of trifles, by the terrible ordeal it had passed. Can + the touch of the hand, scorched by the burning iron, feel pleasure in the + softness of silk, or the light down of the cygnet’s plume? She next sought + such relief as study could afford; and her natural bent of thought, and + her desire to vindicate her deeds to herself, plunged her into the + fathomless abyss of metaphysical inquiry with the hope to confirm into + positive assurance her earlier scepticism,—with the atheist’s hope + to annihilate the soul, and banish the presiding God. But no voice that + could satisfy her reason came from those dreary deeps; contradiction on + contradiction met her in the maze. Only when, wearied with book-lore, she + turned her eyes to the visible Nature, and beheld everywhere harmony, + order, system, contrivance, art, did she start with the amaze and awe of + instinctive conviction, and the natural religion revolted from her + cheerless ethics. Then came one of those sudden reactions common with + strong passions and exploring minds, but more common with women, however + manlike, than with men. Had she lived in Italy then, she had become a nun; + for in this woman, unlike Varney and Dalibard, the conscience could never + be utterly silenced. In her choice of evil, she found only torture to her + spirit in all the respites afforded to the occupations it indulged. When + employed upon ill, remorse gave way to the zest of scheming; when the ill + was done, remorse came with the repose. + </p> + <p> + It was in this peculiar period of her life that Lucretia, turning + everywhere, and desperately, for escape from the past, became acquainted + with some members of one of the most rigid of the sects of Dissent. At + first she permitted herself to know and commune with these persons from a + kind of contemptuous curiosity; she desired to encourage, in contemplating + them, her experience of the follies of human nature: but in that crisis of + her mind, in those struggles of her reason, whatever showed that which she + most yearned to discover,—namely, earnest faith, rooted and genuine + conviction, whether of annihilation or of immortality, a philosophy that + might reconcile her to crime by destroying the providence of good, or a + creed that could hold out the hope of redeeming the past and exorcising + sin by the mystery of a Divine sacrifice,—had over her a power which + she had not imagined or divined. Gradually the intense convictions of her + new associates disturbed and infected her. Their affirmations that as we + are born in wrath, so sin is our second nature, our mysterious heritage, + seemed, to her understanding, willing to be blinded, to imply excuses for + her past misdeeds. Their assurances that the worst sinner may become the + most earnest saint; that through but one act of the will, resolute faith, + all redemption is to be found,—these affirmations and these + assurances, which have so often restored the guilty and remodelled the + human heart, made a salutary, if brief, impression upon her. Nor were the + lives of these Dissenters (for the most part austerely moral), nor the + peace and self-complacency which they evidently found in the satisfaction + of conscience and fulfilment of duty, without an influence over her that + for a while both chastened and soothed. + </p> + <p> + Hopeful of such a convert, the good teachers strove hard to confirm the + seeds springing up from the granite and amidst the weeds; and amongst them + came one man more eloquent, more seductive, than the rest,—Alfred + Braddell. This person, a trader at Liverpool, was one of those strange + living paradoxes that can rarely be found out of a commercial community. + He himself had been a convert to the sect, and like most converts, he + pushed his enthusiasm into the bigotry of the zealot; he saw no salvation + out of the pale into which he had entered. But though his belief was + sincere, it did not genially operate on his practical life; with the most + scrupulous attention to forms, he had the worldliness and cunning of the + carnal. He had abjured the vices of the softer senses, but not that which + so seldom wars on the decorums of outer life. He was essentially a + money-maker,—close, acute, keen, overreaching. Good works with him + were indeed as nothing,—faith the all in all. He was one of the + elect, and could not fall. Still, in this man there was all the intensity + which often characterizes a mind in proportion to the narrowness of its + compass; that intensity gave fire to his gloomy eloquence, and strength to + his obstinate will. He saw Lucretia, and his zeal for her conversion soon + expanded into love for her person; yet that love was secondary to his + covetousness. Though ostensibly in a flourishing business, he was greatly + distressed for money to carry on operations which swelled beyond the reach + of his capital; his fingers itched for the sum which Lucretia had still at + her disposal. But the seeming sincerity of the man, the persuasion of his + goodness, his reputation for sanctity, deceived her; she believed herself + honestly and ardently beloved, and by one who could guide her back, if not + to happiness, at least to repose. She herself loved him not,—she + could love no more. But it seemed to her a luxury to find some one she + could trust, she could honour. If you had probed into the recesses of her + mind at that time, you would have found that no religious belief was there + settled,—only the desperate wish to believe; only the disturbance of + all previous infidelity; only a restless, gnawing desire to escape from + memory, to emerge from the gulf. In this troubled, impatient disorder of + mind and feeling, she hurried into a second marriage as fatal as the + first. + </p> + <p> + For a while she bore patiently all the privations of that ascetic + household, assisted in all those external formalities, centred all her + intellect within that iron range of existence. But no grace descended on + her soul,—no warm ray unlocked the ice of the well. Then, gradually + becoming aware of the niggardly meanness, of the harsh, uncharitable + judgments, of the decorous frauds that, with unconscious hypocrisy, her + husband concealed beneath the robes of sanctity, a weary disgust stole + over her,—it stole, it deepened, it increased; it became intolerable + when she discovered that Braddell had knowingly deceived her as to his + worldly substance. In that mood in which she had rushed into these ominous + nuptials, she had had no thought for vulgar advantages; had Braddell been + a beggar, she had married him as rashly. But he, with the inability to + comprehend a nature like hers,—dim not more to her terrible vices + than to the sinister grandeur which made their ordinary atmosphere,—had + descended cunningly to address the avarice he thought as potent in others + as himself, to enlarge on the worldly prosperity with which Providence had + blessed him; and now she saw that her dowry alone had saved the crippled + trader from the bankrupt list. With this revolting discovery, with the + scorn it produced, vanished all Lucretia’s unstable visions of reform. She + saw this man a saint amongst his tribe, and would not believe in the + virtues of his brethren, great and unquestionable as they might have been + proved to a more dispassionate and humbler inquirer. The imposture she + detected she deemed universal in the circle in which she dwelt; and Satan + once more smiled upon the subject he regained. Lucretia became a mother; + but their child formed no endearing tie between the ill-assorted pair,—it + rather embittered their discord. Dimly even then, as she bent over the + cradle, that vision, which now, in the old house at Brompton, haunted her + dreams and beckoned her over seas of blood into the fancied future, was + foreshadowed in the face of her infant son. To be born again in that + birth, to live only in that life, to aspire as man may aspire, in that + future man whom she would train to knowledge and lead to power,—these + were the feelings with which that sombre mother gazed upon her babe. The + idea that the low-born, grovelling father had the sole right over that + son’s destiny, had the authority to cabin his mind in the walls of form, + bind him down to the sordid apprenticeship, debased, not dignified, by the + solemn mien, roused her indignant wrath; she sickened when Braddell + touched her child. All her pride of intellect, that had never slept, all + her pride of birth, long dormant, woke up to protect the heir of her + ambition, the descendant of her race, from the defilement of the father’s + nurture. Not long after her confinement, she formed a plan for escape; she + disappeared from the house with her child. Taking refuge in a cottage, + living on the sale of the few jewels she possessed, she was for some weeks + almost happy. But Braddell, less grieved by the loss than shocked by the + scandal, was indefatigable in his researches,—he discovered her + retreat. The scene between them was terrible. There was no resisting the + power which all civilized laws give to the rights of husband and father. + Before this man, whom she scorned so unutterably, Lucretia was impotent. + Then all the boiling passions long suppressed beneath that command of + temper which she owed both to habitual simulation and intense disdain, + rushed forth. Then she appalled the impostor with her indignant + denunciations of his hypocrisy, his meanness, and his guile. Then, + throwing off the mask she had worn, she hurled her anathema on his sect, + on his faith, with the same breath that smote his conscience and left it + wordless. She shocked all the notions he sincerely entertained, and he + stood awed by accusations from a blasphemer whom he dared not rebuke. His + rage broke at length from his awe. Stung, maddened by the scorn of + himself, his blood fired into juster indignation by her scoff at his + creed, he lost all self-possession and struck her to the ground. In the + midst of shame and dread at disclosure of his violence, which succeeded + the act so provoked, he was not less relieved than amazed when Lucretia, + rising slowly, laid her hand gently on his arm and said, “Repent not, it + is passed; fear not, I will be silent! Come, you are the stronger,—you + prevail. I will follow my child to your home.” + </p> + <p> + In this unexpected submission in one so imperious, Braddell’s imperfect + comprehension of character saw but fear, and his stupidity exulted in his + triumph. Lucretia returned with him. A few days afterwards Braddell became + ill; the illness increased,—slow, gradual, wearying. It broke his + spirit with his health; and then the steadfast imperiousness of Lucretia’s + stern will ruled and subjugated him. He cowered beneath her haughty, + searching gaze, he shivered at her sidelong, malignant glance; but with + this fear came necessarily hate, and this hate, sometimes sufficing to + vanquish the fear, spitefully evinced itself in thwarting her legitimate + control over her infant. He would have it (though he had little real love + for children) constantly with him, and affected to contradict all her own + orders to the servants, in the sphere in which mothers arrogate most the + right. Only on these occasions sometimes would Lucretia lose her grim + self-control, and threaten that her child yet should be emancipated from + his hands, should yet be taught the scorn for hypocrites which he had + taught herself. These words sank deep, not only in the resentment, but in + the conscience, of the husband. Meanwhile, Lucretia scrupled not to evince + her disdain of Braddell by markedly abstaining from all the ceremonies she + had before so rigidly observed. The sect grew scandalized. Braddell did + not abstain from making known his causes of complaint. The haughty, + imperious woman was condemned in the community, and hated in the + household. + </p> + <p> + It was at this time that Walter Ardworth, who was then striving to eke out + his means by political lectures (which in the earlier part of the century + found ready audience) in our great towns, came to Liverpool. Braddell and + Ardworth had been schoolfellows, and even at school embryo politicians of + congenial notions; and the conversion of the former to one of the sects + which had grown out of the old creeds, that, under Cromwell, had broken + the sceptre of the son of Belial and established the Commonwealth of + Saints, had only strengthened the republican tenets of the sour fanatic. + Ardworth called on Braddell, and was startled to find in his + schoolfellow’s wife the niece of his benefactor, Sir Miles St. John. Now, + Lucretia had never divulged her true parentage to her husband. In a union + so much beneath her birth, she had desired to conceal from all her + connections the fall of the once-honoured heiress. She had descended, in + search of peace, to obscurity; but her pride revolted from the thought + that her low-born husband might boast of her connections and parade her + descent to his level. Fortunately, as she thought, she received Ardworth + before he was admitted to her husband, who now, growing feebler and + feebler, usually kept his room. She stooped to beseech Ardworth not to + reveal her secret; and he, comprehending her pride, as a man well-born + himself, and pitying her pain, readily gave his promise. At the first + interview, Braddell evinced no pleasure in the sight of his old + schoolfellow. It was natural enough that one so precise should be somewhat + revolted by one so careless of all form. But when Lucretia imprudently + evinced satisfaction at his surly remarks on his visitor; when he + perceived that it would please her that he should not cultivate the + acquaintance offered him,—he was moved, by the spirit of + contradiction, and the spiteful delight even in frivolous annoyance, to + conciliate and court the intimacy he had at first disdained: and then, by + degrees, sympathy in political matters and old recollections of sportive, + careless boyhood cemented the intimacy into a more familiar bond than the + sectarian had contracted really with any of his late associates. + </p> + <p> + Lucretia regarded this growing friendship with great uneasiness; the + uneasiness increased to alarm when one day, in the presence of Ardworth, + Braddell, writhing with a sudden spasm, said: “I cannot account for these + strange seizures; I think verily I am poisoned!” and his dull eye rested + on Lucretia’s pallid brow. She was unusually thoughtful for some days + after this remark; and one morning she informed her husband that she had + received the intelligence that a relation, from whom she had pecuniary + expectations, was dangerously ill, and requested his permission to visit + this sick kinsman, who dwelt in a distant county. Braddell’s eyes + brightened at the thought of her absence; with little further questioning + he consented; and Lucretia, sure perhaps that the barb was in the side of + her victim, and reckoning, it may be, on greater freedom from suspicion if + her husband died in her absence, left the house. It was, indeed, to the + neighbourhood of her kindred that she went. In a private conversation with + Ardworth, when questioning him of his news of the present possessor of + Laughton, he had informed her that he had heard accidentally that Vernon’s + two sons (Percival was not then born) were sickly; and she went into + Hampshire secretly and unknown, to see what were really the chances that + her son might yet become the lord of her lost inheritance. + </p> + <p> + During this absence, Braddell, now gloomily aware that his days were + numbered, resolved to put into practice the idea long contemplated, and + even less favoured by his spite than justified by the genuine convictions + of his conscience. Whatever his faults, sincere at least in his religious + belief, he might well look with dread to the prospect of the training and + education his son would receive from the hands of a mother who had + blasphemed his sect and openly proclaimed her infidelity. By will, it is + true, he might create a trust, and appoint guardians to his child. But to + have lived under the same roof with his wife,—nay, to have carried + her back to that roof when she had left it,—afforded tacit evidence + that whatever the disagreement between them, her conduct could hardly have + merited her exclusion from the privileges of a mother. The guardianship + might therefore avail little to frustrate Lucretia’s indirect + contamination, if not her positive control. Besides, where guardians are + appointed, money must be left; and Braddell knew that at his death his + assets would be found insufficient for his debts. Who would be guardian to + a penniless infant? He resolved, therefore, to send his child from his + roof to some place where, if reared humbly, it might at least be brought + up in the right faith,—some place which might defy the search and be + beyond the perversion of the unbelieving mother. He looked round, and + discovered no instrument for his purpose that seemed so ready as Walter + Ardworth; for by this time he had thoroughly excited the pity and touched + the heart of that good-natured, easy man. His representations of the + misconduct of Lucretia were the more implicitly believed by one who had + always been secretly prepossessed against her; who, admitted to household + intimacy, was an eye-witness to her hard indifference to her husband’s + sufferings; who saw in her very request not to betray her gentle birth, + the shame she felt in her election; who regarded with indignation her + unfeeling desertion of Braddell in his last moments, and who, besides all + this, had some private misfortunes of his own which made him the more + ready listener to themes on the faults of women; and had already, by + mutual confidences, opened the hearts of the two ancient schoolfellows to + each other’s complaints and wrongs. The only other confidant in the refuge + selected for the child was a member of the same community as Braddell, who + kindly undertook to search for a pious, godly woman, who, upon such + pecuniary considerations as Braddell, by robbing his creditors, could + afford to bestow, would permanently offer to the poor infant a mother’s + home and a mother’s care. When this woman was found, Braddell confided his + child to Ardworth, with such a sum as he could scrape together for its + future maintenance. And to Ardworth, rather than to his fellow-sectarian, + this double trust was given, because the latter feared scandal and + misrepresentation if he should be ostensibly mixed up in so equivocal a + charge. Poor and embarrassed as Walter Ardworth was, Braddell did not for + once misinterpret character when he placed the money in his hands; and + this because the characters we have known in transparent boyhood we have + known forever. Ardworth was reckless, and his whole life had been wrecked, + his whole nature materially degraded, by the want of common thrift and + prudence. His own money slipped through his fingers and left him + surrounded by creditors, whom, rigidly speaking, he thus defrauded; but + direct dishonesty was as wholly out of the chapter of his vices as if he + had been a man of the strictest principles and the steadiest honour. + </p> + <p> + The child was gone, the father died, Lucretia returned, as we have seen in + Grabman’s letter, to the house of death, to meet suspicion, and cold + looks, and menial accusations, and an inquest on the dead; but through all + this the reft tigress mourned her stolen whelp. As soon as all evidence + against her was proved legally groundless, and she had leave to depart, + she searched blindly and frantically for her lost child; but in vain. The + utter and penniless destitution in which she was left by her husband’s + decease did not suffice to terminate her maddening chase. On foot she + wandered from village to village, and begged her way wherever a false clew + misled her steps. + </p> + <p> + At last, in reluctant despair, she resigned the pursuit, and found herself + one day in the midst of the streets of London, half-famished and in rags; + and before her suddenly, now grown into vigorous youth,—blooming, + sleek, and seemingly prosperous,—stood Gabriel Varney. By her voice, + as she approached and spoke, he recognized his stepmother; and after a + short pause of hesitation, he led her to his home. It is not our purpose + (for it is not necessary to those passages of their lives from which we + have selected the thread of our tale) to follow these two, thus united, + through their general career of spoliation and crime. Birds of prey, they + searched in human follies and human errors for their food: sometimes + severed, sometimes together, their interests remained one. Varney profited + by the mightier and subtler genius of evil to which he had leashed + himself; for, caring little for luxuries, and dead to the softer senses, + she abandoned to him readily the larger share of their plunder. Under a + variety of names and disguises, through a succession of frauds, some vast + and some mean, but chiefly on the Continent, they had pursued their + course, eluding all danger and baffling all law. + </p> + <p> + Between three and four years before this period, Varney’s uncle, the + painter, by one of those unexpected caprices of fortune which sometimes + find heirs to a millionnaire at the weaver’s loom or the labourer’s + plough, had suddenly, by the death of a very distant kinsman whom he had + never seen, come into possession of a small estate, which he sold for + 6,000 pounds. Retiring from all his profession, he lived as comfortably as + his shattered constitution permitted upon the interest of this sum; and he + wrote to his nephew, then at Paris, to communicate the good news and offer + the hospitality of his hearth. Varney hastened to London. Shortly + afterwards a nurse, recommended as an experienced, useful person in her + profession, by Nicholas Grabman, who in many a tortuous scheme had been + Gabriel’s confederate, was installed in the poor painter’s house. From + that time his infirmities increased. He died, as his doctor said, “by + abstaining from the stimulants to which his constitution had been so long + accustomed;” and Gabriel Varney was summoned to the reading of the will. + To his inconceivable disappointment, instead of bequeathing to his nephew + the free disposal of his 6,000 pounds, that sum was assigned to trustees + for the benefit of Gabriel and his children yet unborn,—“An + inducement,” said the poor testator, tenderly, “for the boy to marry and + reform!” So that the nephew could only enjoy the interest, and had no + control over the capital. The interest of 6,000 pounds invested in the + Bank of England was flocci nauci to the voluptuous spendthrift, Gabriel + Varney. + </p> + <p> + Now, these trustees were selected from the painter’s earlier and more + respectable associates, who had dropped him, it is true, in his days of + beggary and disrepute, but whom the fortune that made him respectable had + again conciliated. One of these trustees had lately retired to pass the + remainder of his days at Boulogne; the other was a hypochondriacal + valetudinarian,—neither of them, in short, a man of business. + Gabriel was left to draw out the interest of the money as it became + periodically due at the Bank of England. In a few months the trustee + settled at Boulogne died; the trust, of course, lapsed to Mr. Stubmore, + the valetudinarian survivor. Soon pinched by extravagances, and emboldened + by the character and helpless state of the surviving trustee, Varney + forged Mr. Stubmore’s signature to an order on the bank to sell out such + portion of the capital as his wants required. The impunity of one offence + begot courage for others, till the whole was well-nigh expended. Upon + these sums Varney had lived very pleasantly, and he saw with a deep sigh + the approaching failure of so facile a resource. + </p> + <p> + In one of the melancholy moods engendered by this reflection, Varney + happened to be in the very town in France in which the Mainwarings, in + their later years, had taken refuge, and from which Helen had been removed + to the roof of Mr. Fielden. By accident he heard the name, and, his + curiosity leading to further inquiries, learned that Helen was made an + heiress by the will of her grandfather. With this knowledge came a thought + of the most treacherous, the most miscreant, and the vilest crime that + even he yet had perpetrated; so black was it that for a while he + absolutely struggled against it. But in guilt there seems ever a Necessity + that urges on, step after step, to the last consummation. Varney received + a letter to inform him that the last surviving trustee was no more, that + the trust was therefore now centred in his son and heir, that that + gentleman was at present very busy in settling his own affairs and + examining into a very mismanaged property in Devonshire which had devolved + upon him, but that he hoped in a few months to discharge, more efficiently + than his father had done, the duties of trustee, and that some more + profitable investment than the Bank of England would probably occur. + </p> + <p> + This new trustee was known personally to Varney,—a contemporary of + his own, and in earlier youth a pupil to his uncle. But, since then, he + had made way in life, and retired from the profession of art. This younger + Stubmore he knew to be a bustling, officious man of business, somewhat + greedy and covetous, but withal somewhat weak of purpose, good-natured in + the main, and with a little lukewarm kindness for Gabriel, as a quondam + fellow-pupil. That Stubmore would discover the fraud was evident; that he + would declare it, for his own sake, was evident also; that the bank would + prosecute, that Varney would be convicted, was no less surely to be + apprehended. There was only one chance left to the forger: if he could get + into his hands, and in time, before Stubmore’s bustling interference, a + sum sufficient to replace what had been fraudulently taken, he might + easily manage, he thought, to prevent the forgery ever becoming known. + Nay, if Stubmore, roused into strict personal investigation by the new + power of attorney which a new investment in the bank would render + necessary, should ascertain what had occurred, his liabilities being now + indemnified, and the money replaced, Varney thought he could confidently + rely on his ci-devant fellow-pupil’s assent to wink at the forgery and + hush up the matter. But this was his only chance. How was the money to be + gained? He thought of Helen’s fortune, and the last scruple gave way to + the imminence of his peril and the urgency of his fears. + </p> + <p> + With this decision, he repaired to Lucretia, whose concurrence was + necessary to his designs. Long habits of crime had now deepened still more + the dark and stern colour of that dread woman’s sombre nature. But through + all that had ground the humanity from her soul, one human sentiment, + fearfully tainted and adulterated as it was, still struggled for life,—the + memory of the mother. It was by this, her least criminal emotion, that + Varney led her to the worst of her crimes. He offered to sell out the + remainder of the trust-money by a fresh act of forgery, to devote such + proceeds to the search for her lost Vincent; he revived the hopes she had + long since gloomily relinquished, till she began to conceive the discovery + easy and certain. He then brought before her the prospect of that son’s + succession to Laughton: but two lives now between him and those broad + lands,—those two lives associated with just cause of revenge. Two + lives! Lucretia till then did not know that Susan had left a child, that a + pledge of those nuptials, to which she imputed all her infamy, existed to + revive a jealousy never extinguished, appeal to the hate that had grown + out of her love. More readily than Varney had anticipated, and with fierce + exultation, she fell into his horrible schemes. + </p> + <p> + Thus had she returned to England and claimed the guardianship of her + niece. Varney engaged a dull house in the suburb, and looking out for a + servant not likely to upset and betray, found the nurse who had watched + over his uncle’s last illness; but Lucretia, according to her invariable + practice, rejected all menial accomplices, reposed no confidence in the + tools of her black deeds. Feigning an infirmity that would mock all + suspicion of the hand that mixed the draught, and the step that stole to + the slumber, she defied the justice of earth, and stood alone under the + omniscience of Heaven. + </p> + <p> + Various considerations had delayed the execution of the atrocious deed so + coldly contemplated. Lucretia herself drew back, perhaps more daunted by + conscience than she herself was distinctly aware, and disguising her + scruples in those yet fouler refinements of hoped revenge which her + conversations with Varney have betrayed to the reader. The failure of the + earlier researches for the lost Vincent, the suspended activity of + Stubmore, left the more impatient murderer leisure to make the + acquaintance of St. John, steal into the confidence of Helen, and render + the insurances on the life of the latter less open to suspicion than if + effected immediately on her entrance into that shamble-house, and before + she could be supposed to form that affection for her aunt which made + probable so tender a forethought. These causes of delay now vanished, the + Parcae closed the abrupt woof, and lifted the impending shears. + </p> + <p> + Lucretia had long since dropped the name of Braddell. She shrank from + proclaiming those second spousals, sullied by the degradation to which + they had exposed her, and the suspicions implied in the inquest on her + husband, until the hour for acknowledging her son should arrive. She + resumed, therefore, the name of Dalibard, and by that we will continue to + call her. Nor was Varney uninfluential in dissuading her from proclaiming + her second marriage till occasion necessitated. If the son were + discovered, and proofs of his birth in the keeping of himself and his + accomplice, his avarice naturally suggested the expediency of wringing + from that son some pledge of adequate reward on succession to an + inheritance which they alone could secure to him; out of this fancied fund + not only Grabman, but his employer, was to be paid. The concealment of the + identity between Mrs. Braddell and Madame Dalibard might facilitate such + an arrangement. This idea Varney locked as yet in his own breast. He did + not dare to speak to Lucretia of the bargain he ultimately meditated with + her son. + </p> + <p> + <a name="Blink2HCH0029" id="Blink2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. MR. GRABMAN’S ADVENTURES. + </h2> + <p> + The lackeys in their dress liveries stood at the porch of Laughton as the + postilions drove rapidly along the road, sweeping through venerable + groves, tinged with the hues of autumn, up to that stately pile. From the + window of the large, cumbrous vehicle which Percival, mindful of Madame + Dalibard’s infirmity, had hired for her special accommodation, Lucretia + looked keenly. On the slope of the hill grouped the deer, and below, where + the lake gleamed, the swan rested on the wave. Farther on to the left, + gaunt and stag-headed, rose, living still, from the depth of the glen, + Guy’s memorable oak. Coming now in sight, though at a distance, the gray + church-tower emerged from the surrounding masses of solemn foliage. + Suddenly the road curves round, and straight before her (the rooks cawing + above the turrets, the sun reflected from the vanes) Lucretia gazes on the + halls of Laughton. And didst thou not, O Guy’s oak, murmur warning from + thine oracular hollows? And thou who sleepest below the church-tower, + didst thou not turn, Miles St. John, in thy grave, when, with such tender + care, the young lord of Laughton bore that silent guest across his + threshold, and with credulous, moistened eyes, welcomed Treason and Murder + to his hearth? + </p> + <p> + There, at the porch, paused Helen, gazing with the rapt eye of the poetess + on the broad landscape, checkered by the vast shadows cast from the + setting sun. There, too, by her side lingered Varney, with an artist’s eye + for the stately scene, till a thought, not of art, changed the face of the + earth, and the view without mirrored back the Golgotha of his soul. + </p> + <p> + Leave them thus; we must hurry on. + </p> + <p> + One day a traveller stopped his gig at a public-house in a village in + Lancashire. He chucked the rein to the hostler, and in reply to a question + what oats should be given to the horse, said, “Hay and water; the beast is + on job.” Then sauntering to the bar, he called for a glass of raw brandy + for himself; and while the host drew the spirit forth from the tap, he + asked carelessly if some years ago a woman of the name of Joplin had not + resided in the village. + </p> + <p> + “It is strange,” said the host, musingly. “What is strange?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, we have just had a gent asking the same question. I have only been + here nine year come December; but my old hostler was born in the village, + and never left it. So the gent had in the hostler, and he is now gone into + the village to pick up what else he can learn.” + </p> + <p> + This intelligence seemed to surprise and displease the traveller. + </p> + <p> + “What the deuce!” he muttered; “does Jason mistrust me? Has he set another + dog on the scent? Humph!” He drained off his brandy, and sallied forth to + confer with the hostler. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my friend,” said Mr. Grabman,—for the traveller was no other + than that worthy,—“well, so you remember Mrs. Joplin more than + twenty years ago, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Yees, I guess; more than twenty years since she left the pleck + [Lancashire and Yorkshire synonym for place].” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, she seems to have been a restless body. She had a child with her?” + </p> + <p> + “Yees, I moind that.” + </p> + <p> + “And I dare say you heard her say the child was not her own,—that + she was paid well for it, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Noa; my missus did not loike me to chaffer much with neighbour Joplin, + for she was but a bad ‘un,—pretty fease, too. She lived agin the + wogh [Anglice, wall] yonder, where you see that gent coming out.” + </p> + <p> + “Oho! that is the gent who was asking after Mrs. Joplin?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and he giv’ me half-a-croon!” said the clever hostler, holding out + his hand. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Grabman, too thoughtful, too jealous of his rival, to take the hint at + that moment, darted off, as fast as his thin legs could carry him, towards + the unwelcome interferer in his own business. + </p> + <p> + Approaching the gentleman,—a tall, powerful-looking young man,—he + somewhat softened his tone, and mechanically touched his hat as he said,— + </p> + <p> + “What, sir, are you, too, in search of Mrs. Joplin?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir, I am,” answered the young man, eying Grabman deliberately; “and you, + I suppose, are the person I have found before me on the same search,—first + at Liverpool; next at C——, about fifteen miles from that town; + thirdly, at I——; and now we meet here. You have had the start + of me. What have you learned?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Grabman smiled. “Softly, sir, softly. May I first ask—since open + questioning seems the order of the day—whether I have the honour to + address a brother practitioner,—one of the law, sir, one of the + law?” + </p> + <p> + “I am one of the law.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Grabman bowed and scowled. + </p> + <p> + “And may I make bold to ask the name of your client?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly you may ask. Every man has a right to ask what he pleases, in a + civil way.” + </p> + <p> + “But you’ll not answer? Deep! Oh, I understand! Very good. But I am deep + too, sir. You know Mr. Varney, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + The gentleman looked surprised. His bushy brows met over his steady, + sagacious eyes; but after a moment’s pause the expression of his face + cleared up. + </p> + <p> + “It is as I thought,” he said, half to himself. “Who else could have had + an interest in similar inquiries?—Sir,” he added, with a quick and + decided tone, “you are doubtless employed by Mr. Varney on behalf of + Madame Dalibard and in search of evidence connected with the loss of an + unhappy infant. I am on the same quest, and for the same end. The + interests of your client are mine. Two heads are better than one; let us + unite our ingenuity and endeavours.” + </p> + <p> + “And share the pec, I suppose?” said Grabman, dryly, buttoning up his + pockets. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever fee you may expect you will have, anyhow, whether I assist you + or not. I expect no fee, for mine is a personal interest, which I serve + gratuitously; but I can undertake to promise you, on my own part, more + than the ordinary professional reward for your co-operation.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” said Grabman, mollified, “you speak very much like a + gentleman. My feelings were hurt at first, I own. I am hasty, but I can + listen to reason. Will you walk back with me to the house you have just + left? And suppose we then turn in and have a chop together, and compare + notes.” + </p> + <p> + “Willingly,” answered the tall stranger, and the two inquisitors amicably + joined company. The result of their inquiries was not, however, very + satisfactory. No one knew whither Mrs. Joplin had gone, though all agreed + it was in company with a man of bad character and vagrant habits; all + agreed, too, in the vague recollection of the child, and some remembered + that it was dressed in clothes finer than would have been natural to an + infant legally and filially appertaining to Mrs. Joplin. One old woman + remembered that on her reproaching Mrs. Joplin for some act of great + cruelty to the poor babe, she replied that it was not her flesh and blood, + and that if she had not expected more than she had got, she would never + have undertaken the charge. On comparing the information gleaned at the + previous places of their research, they found an entire agreement as to + the character personally borne by Mrs. Joplin. At the village to which + their inquiry had been first directed, she was known as a respectable, + precise young woman, one of a small congregation of rigid Dissenters. She + had married a member of the sect, and borne him a child, which died two + weeks after birth. She was then seen nursing another infant, though how + she came by it none knew. Shortly after this, her husband, a journeyman + carpenter of good repute, died; but to the surprise of the neighbours, + Mrs. Joplin continued to live as comfortably as before, and seemed not to + miss the wages of her husband,—nay, she rather now, as if before + kept back by the prudence of the deceased, launched into a less thrifty + mode of life, and a gayety of dress at variance both with the mourning her + recent loss should have imposed, and the austere tenets of her sect. This + indecorum excited angry curiosity, and drew down stern remonstrance. Mrs. + Joplin, in apparent disgust at this intermeddling with her affairs, + withdrew from the village to a small town, about twenty miles distant, and + there set up a shop. But her moral lapse became now confirmed; her life + was notoriously abandoned, and her house the resort of all the reprobates + of the place. Whether her means began to be exhausted, or the scandal she + provoked attracted the notice of the magistrates and imposed a check on + her course, was not very certain, but she sold off her goods suddenly, and + was next tracked to the village in which Mr. Grabman met his new + coadjutor; and there, though her conduct was less flagrant, and her + expenses less reckless, she made but a very unfavourable impression, which + was confirmed by her flight with an itinerant hawker of the lowest + possible character. Seated over their port wine, the two gentlemen + compared their experiences, and consulted on the best mode of remending + the broken thread of their research; when Mr. Grabman said coolly, “But, + after all, I think it most likely that we are not on the right scent. This + bantling may not be the one we search for.” + </p> + <p> + “Be not misled by that doubt. To arrive at the evidence we desire, we must + still track this wretched woman.” + </p> + <p> + “You are certain of that?” + </p> + <p> + “Certain.” + </p> + <p> + “Hem! Did you ever hear of a Mr. Walter Ardworth?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, what of him?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, he can best tell us where to look for the child.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure he would counsel as I do.” + </p> + <p> + “You know him, then?” + </p> + <p> + “I do.” + </p> + <p> + “What, he lives still?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you bring me across him?” + </p> + <p> + “If necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “And that young man, who goes by his name, brought up by Mr. Fielden?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Is he not the son of Mr. Braddell?” + </p> + <p> + The stranger was silent, and, shading his face with his hand, seemed + buried in thought. He then rose, took up his candle, and said quietly,— + </p> + <p> + “Sir, I wish you good-evening. I have letters to write in my own room. I + will consider by to-morrow, if you stay till then, whether we can really + aid each other further, or whether we should pursue our researches + separately.” With these words he closed the door; and Mr. Grabman remained + baffled and bewildered. + </p> + <p> + However, he too had a letter to write; so, calling for pen, ink, and + paper, and a pint of brandy, he indited his complaints and his news to + Varney. + </p> + <p> + “Jason, (he began) are you playing me false? Have you set another man on + the track with a view to bilk me of my promised fee? Explain, or I throw + up the business.” + </p> + <p> + Herewith, Mr. Grabman gave a minute description of the stranger, and + related pretty accurately what had passed between that gentleman and + himself. He then added the progress of his own inquiries, and renewed, as + peremptorily as he dared, his demand for candour and plain dealing. Now, + it so happened that in stumbling upstairs to bed, Mr. Grabman passed the + room in which his mysterious fellow-seeker was lodged, and as is the usage + in hotels, a pair of boots stood outside the door, to be cleaned betimes + in the morning. Though somewhat drunk, Grabman still preserved the rays of + his habitual astuteness. A clever and a natural idea shot across his + brain, illuminating the fumes of the brandy; he stooped, and while one + hand on the wall steadied his footing, with the other he fished up a boot, + and peering within, saw legibly written: “John Ardworth, Esq., Gray’s + Inn.” At that sight he felt what a philosopher feels at the sudden + elucidation of a troublesome problem. Downstairs again tottered Grabman, + re-opened his letter, and wrote,— + </p> + <p> + “P.S.—I have wronged you, Jason, by my suspicions; never mind,—jubilate! + This interloper who made me so jealous, who think you it is? Why, young + Ardworth himself,—that is, the lad who goes by such name. Now, is it + not clear? Of course no one else has such interest in learning his birth + as the lost child himself,—here he is! If old Ardworth lives (as he + says), old Ardworth has set him to work on his own business. But then, + that Fielden,—rather a puzzler that! Yet—no. Now I understand,—old + Ardworth gave the boy to Mrs. Joplin, and took it away from her again when + he went to the parson’s. Now, certainly, it may be quite necessary to + prove,—first, that the boy he took from Mr. Braddell’s he gave to + Mrs. Joplin; secondly, that the boy he left with Mr. Fielden was the same + that he took again from that woman: therefore, the necessity of finding + out Mother Joplin, an essential witness. Q. E. D., Master Jason!” + </p> + <p> + It was not till the sun had been some hours risen that Mr. Grabman + imitated that luminary’s example. When he did so, he found, somewhat to + his chagrin, that John Ardworth had long been gone. In fact, whatever the + motive that had led the latter on the search, he had succeeded in gleaning + from Grabman all that that person could communicate, and their interview + had inspired him with such disgust of the attorney, and so small an + opinion of the value of his co-operation (in which last belief, perhaps, + he was mistaken), that he had resolved to continue his inquiries alone, + and had already, in his early morning’s walk through the village, + ascertained that the man with whom Mrs. Joplin had quitted the place had + some time after been sentenced to six months’ imprisonment in the county + jail. Possibly the prison authorities might know something to lead to his + discovery, and through him the news of his paramour might be gained. + </p> + <p> + <a name="Blink2HCH0030" id="Blink2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. MORE OF MRS. JOPLIN. + </h2> + <p> + One day, at the hour of noon, the court boasting the tall residence of Mr. + Grabman was startled from the quiet usually reigning there at broad + daylight by the appearance of two men, evidently no inhabitants of the + place. The squalid, ill-favoured denizens lounging before the doors stared + hard, and at the fuller view of one of the men, most of them retreated + hastily within. Then, in those houses, you might have heard a murmur of + consternation and alarm. The ferret was in the burrow,—a Bow-Street + officer in the court! The two men paused, looked round, and stopping + before the dingy towerlike house, selected the bell which appealed to the + inmates of the ground-floor, to the left. At that summons Bill the + cracksman imprudently presented a full view of his countenance through his + barred window; he drew it back with astonishing celerity, but not in time + to escape the eye of the Bow-Street runner. + </p> + <p> + “Open the door, Bill,—there’s nothing to fear; I have no summons + against you, ‘pon honour. You know I never deceive. Why should I? Open the + door, I say.” + </p> + <p> + No answer. + </p> + <p> + The officer tapped with his cane at the foul window. + </p> + <p> + “Bill, there’s a gentleman who comes to you for information, and he will + pay for it handsomely.” + </p> + <p> + Bill again appeared at the casement, and peeped forth very cautiously + through the bars. + </p> + <p> + “Bless my vitals, Mr. R——, and it is you, is it? What were you + saying about paying handsomely?” + </p> + <p> + “That your evidence is wanted,—not against a pal, man. It will hurt + no one, and put at least five guineas in your pocket.” + </p> + <p> + “Ten guineas,” said the Bow-Street officer’s companion. “You be’s a man of + honour, Mr. R——!” said Bill, emphatically; “and I scorns to + doubt you, so here goes.” + </p> + <p> + With that he withdrew from the window, and in another minute or so the + door was opened, and Bill, with a superb bow, asked his visitors into his + room. + </p> + <p> + In the interval, leisure had been given to the cracksman to remove all + trace of the wonted educational employment of his hopeful children. The + urchins were seated on the floor playing at push-pin; and the Bow-Street + officer benignly patted a pair of curly heads as he passed them, drew a + chair to the table, and wiping his forehead, sat down, quite at home. Bill + then deliberately seated himself, and unbuttoning his waistcoat, permitted + the butt-ends of a brace of pistols to be seen by his guests. Mr. R——‘s + companion seemed very unmoved by this significant action. He bent one + inquiring, steady look on the cracksman, which, as Bill afterwards said, + went through him “like a gimlet through a penny,” and taking out a purse, + through the network of which the sovereigns gleamed pleasantly, placed it + on the table and said,— + </p> + <p> + “This purse is yours if you will tell me what has become of a woman named + Joplin, with whom you left the village of ——, in Lancashire, + in the year 18—.” + </p> + <p> + “And,” put in Mr. R——, “the gentleman wants to know, with no + view of harming the woman. It will be to her own advantage to inform us + where she is.” + </p> + <p> + “‘Pon honour again?” said Bill. + </p> + <p> + “‘Pon honour!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I has a heart in my buzzom, and if so be I can do a good turn + to the ‘oman wot I has loved and kep’ company with, why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not, indeed?” said Mr. R——. “And as we want to learn, not + only what has become of Mrs. Joplin, but what she did with the child she + carried off from ——, begin at the beginning and tell us all + you know.” + </p> + <p> + Bill mused. “How much is there in the pus?” + </p> + <p> + “Eighteen sovereigns.” + </p> + <p> + “Make it twenty—you nod—twenty then? A bargain! Now I’ll go on + right ahead. You see as how, some months arter we—that is, Peggy + Joplin and self—left ——, I was put in quod in Lancaster + jail; so I lost sight of the blowen. When I got out and came to Lunnun, it + was a matter of seven year afore, all of a sudding, I came bang up agin + her,—at the corner of Common Garden. ‘Why, Bill!’ says she. ‘Why, + Peggy!’ says I; and we bussed each other like winky. ‘Shall us come + together agin?’ says she. ‘Why, no,’ says I; ‘I has a wife wots a good + ‘un, and gets her bread by setting up as a widder with seven small + childern. By the by, Peg, what’s a come of your brat?’ for as you says, + sir, Peg had a child put out to her to nurse. Lor’, how she cuffed it! + ‘The brat!’ says she, laughing like mad, ‘oh, I got rid o’ that when you + were in jail, Bill.’ ‘As how?’ says I. ‘Why, there was a woman begging + agin St. Poll’s churchyard; so I purtended to see a friend at a distance: + “‘Old the babby a moment,” says I, puffing and panting, “while I ketches + my friend yonder.” So she ‘olds the brat, and I never sees it agin; and + there’s an ind of the bother!’ ‘But won’t they ever ax for the child,—them + as giv’ it you?’ ‘Oh, no,’ says Peg, ‘they left it too long for that, and + all the tin was agone; and one mouth is hard enough to feed in these days,—let + by other folks’ bantlings.’ ‘Well,’ says I, ‘where do you hang out? I’ll + pop in, in a friendly way.’ So she tells me,—som’ere in Lambeth,—I + forgets hexactly; and many’s the good piece of work we ha’ done togither.” + </p> + <p> + “And where is she now?” asked Mr. R——‘s companion. + </p> + <p> + “I doesn’t know purcisely, but I can com’ at her. You see, when my poor + wife died, four year com’ Chris’mas, and left me with as fine a famuly, + though I says it, as h-old King Georgy himself walked afore, with his + gold-’eaded cane, on the terris at Vindsor,—all heights and all + h-ages to the babby in arms (for the little ‘un there warn’t above a year + old, and had been a brought up upon spoon-meat, with a dash o’ blueruin to + make him slim and ginteel); as for the bigger ‘uns wot you don’t see, they + be doin’ well in forin parts, Mr. R——!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. R. smiled significantly. + </p> + <p> + Bill resumed. “Where was I? Oh, when my wife died, I wanted sum ‘un to + take care of the childern, so I takes Peg into the ‘ous. But Lor’! how she + larrupped ‘em,—she has a cruel heart, has n’t she, Bob? Bob is a + ‘cute child, Mr. R——. Just as I was a thinking of turning her + out neck an’ crop, a gemman what lodges aloft, wot be a laryer, and wot + had just saved my nick, Mr. R——, by proving a h-alibi, said, + ‘That’s a tidy body, your Peg!’ (for you see he was often a wisiting here, + an’ h-indeed, sin’ then, he has taken our third floor, No. 9); ‘I’ve been + a speakin’ to her, and I find she has been a nuss to the sick. I has a + frind wots a h-uncle that’s ill: can you spare her, Bill, to attind him?’ + That I can,’ says I; ‘anything to obleedge.’ So Peg packs off, bag and + baggidge.” + </p> + <p> + “And what was the sick gentleman’s name?” asked Mr. R——‘s + companion. + </p> + <p> + “It was one Mr. Warney,—a painter, wot lived at Clap’am. Since thin + I’ve lost sight of Peg; for we had ‘igh words about the childern, and she + was a spiteful ‘oman. But you can larn where she be at Mr. Warney’s, if so + be he’s still above ground.” + </p> + <p> + “And did this woman still go by the name of Joplin?” + </p> + <p> + Bill grinned: “She warn’t such a spooney as that,—that name was in + your black books too much, Mr. R——, for a ‘spectable nuss for + sick bodies; no, she was then called Martha Skeggs, what was her own + mother’s name afore marriage. Anything more, gemman?” + </p> + <p> + “I am satisfied,” said the younger visitor, rising; “there is the purse, + and Mr. R—— will bring you ten sovereigns in addition. + Good-day to you.” + </p> + <p> + Bill, with superabundant bows and flourishes, showed his visitors out, and + then, in high glee, he began to romp with his children; and the whole + family circle was in a state of uproarious enjoyment when the door flew + open, and in entered Grabman, his brief-bag in hand, dust-soiled and + unshaven. + </p> + <p> + “Aha, neighbour! your servant, your servant; just come back! Always so + merry; for the life of me, I couldn’t help looking in! Dear me, Bill, why, + you’re in luck!” and Mr. Grabman pointed to a pile of sovereigns which + Bill had emptied from the purse to count over and weigh on the tip of his + forefinger. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Bill, sweeping the gold into his corduroy pocket; “and who do + you think brought me these shiners? Why, who but old Peggy, the ‘oman wot + you put out at Clapham.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, never mind Peggy, now, Bill; I want to ask you what you have done + with Margaret Joplin, whom, sly seducer that you are, you carried off from—” + </p> + <p> + “Why, man, Peggy be Joplin, and Joplin be Peggy! And it’s for that piece + of noos that I got all them pretty new picters of his Majesty Bill,—my + namesake, God bliss ‘im!” + </p> + <p> + “D—n,” exclaimed Grabman, aghast; “the young chap’s spoiling my game + again!” And seizing up his brief-bag, he darted out of the house, in the + hope to arrive at least at Clapham before his competitors. + </p> + <p> + <a name="Blink2HCH0031" id="Blink2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. BECK’S DISCOVERY. + </h2> + <p> + Under the cedar-trees at Laughton sat that accursed and abhorrent being + who sat there, young, impassioned, hopeful, as Lucretia Clavering,—under + the old cedar-trees, which, save that their vast branches cast an + imperceptibly broader shade over the mossy sward, the irrevocable winters + had left the same. Where, through the nether boughs the autumn sunbeams + came aslant, the windows, enriched by many a haughty scutcheon, shone + brightly against the western rays. From the flower-beds in the quaint + garden near at hand, the fresh yet tranquil air wafted faint perfumes from + the lingering heliotrope and fading rose. The peacock perched dozily on + the heavy balustrade; the blithe robin hopped busily along the sun-track + on the lawn; in the distance the tinkling bells of the flock, the plaining + low of some wandering heifer, while breaking the silence, seemed still to + blend with the repose. All images around lent themselves to complete that + picture of stately calm which is the character of those old + mansion-houses, which owner after owner has loved and heeded, leaving to + them the graces of antiquity, guarding them from the desolation of decay. + </p> + <p> + Alone sat Lucretia under the cedar-trees, and her heart made dismal + contrast to the noble tranquillity that breathed around. From whatever + softening or repentant emotions which the scene of her youth might first + have awakened; from whatever of less unholy anguish which memory might + have caused when she first, once more, sat under those remembered boughs, + and, as a voice from a former world, some faint whisper of youthful love + sighed across the waste and ashes of her devastated soul,—from all + such rekindled humanities in the past she had now, with gloomy power, + wrenched herself away. Crime such as hers admits not long the sentiment + that softens remorse of gentler error. If there wakes one moment from the + past the warning and melancholy ghost, soon from that abyss rises the Fury + with the lifted scourge, and hunts on the frantic footsteps towards the + future. In the future, the haggard intellect of crime must live, must + involve itself mechanically in webs and meshes, and lose past and present + in the welcome atmosphere of darkness. + </p> + <p> + Thus while Lucretia sat, and her eyes rested upon the halls of her youth, + her mind overleaped the gulf that yet yawned between her and the object on + which she was bent. Already, in fancy, that home was hers again, its + present possessor swept away, the interloping race of Vernon ending in one + of those abrupt lines familiar to genealogists, which branch out busily + from the main tree, as if all pith and sap were monopolized by them, + continue for a single generation, and then shrink into a printer’s bracket + with the formal laconism, “Died without issue.” Back, then, in the + pedigree would turn the eye of some curious descendant, and see the race + continue in the posterity of Lucretia Clavering. + </p> + <p> + With all her ineffable vices, mere cupidity had not, as we have often + seen, been a main characteristic of this fearful woman; and in her design + to endow, by the most determined guilt, her son with the heritage of her + ancestors, she had hitherto looked but little to mere mercenary advantages + for herself: but now, in the sight of that venerable and broad domain, a + covetousness, absolute in itself, broke forth. Could she have gained it + for her own use rather than her son’s, she would have felt a greater zest + in her ruthless purpose. She looked upon the scene as a deposed monarch + upon his usurped realm,—it was her right. The early sense of + possession in that inheritance returned to her. + </p> + <p> + Reluctantly would she even yield her claims to her child. Here, too, in + this atmosphere she tasted once more what had long been lost to her,—the + luxury of that dignified respect which surrounds the well-born. Here she + ceased to be the suspected adventuress, the friendless outcast, the needy + wrestler with hostile fortune, the skulking enemy of the law. She rose at + once, and without effort, to her original state,—the honoured + daughter of an illustrious house. The homeliest welcome that greeted her + from some aged but unforgotten villager, the salutation of homage, the + bated breath of humble reverence,—even trifles like these were dear + to her, and made her the more resolute to retain them. In her calm, + relentless onward vision she saw herself enshrined in those halls, ruling + in the delegated authority of her son, safe evermore from prying suspicion + and degrading need and miserable guilt for miserable objects. Here, but + one great crime, and she resumed the majesty of her youth! While thus + dwelling on the future, her eye did not even turn from those sunlit towers + to the forms below, and more immediately inviting its survey. On the very + spot where, at the opening of this tale, sat Sir Miles St. John sharing + his attention between his dogs and his guest, sat now Helen Mainwaring; + against the balustrade where had lounged Charles Vernon, leaned Percival + St. John; and in the same place where he had stationed himself that + eventful evening, to distort, in his malignant sketch, the features of his + father, Gabriel Varney, with almost the same smile of irony upon his lips, + was engaged in transferring to his canvas a more faithful likeness of the + heir’s intended bride. Helen’s countenance, indeed, exhibited + comparatively but little of the ravages which the pernicious aliment, + administered so noiselessly, made upon the frame. The girl’s eye, it is + true, had sunk, and there was a languid heaviness in its look; but the + contour of the cheek was so naturally rounded, and the features so + delicately fine, that the fall of the muscles was less evident; and the + bright, warm hue of the complexion, and the pearly sparkle of the teeth, + still gave a fallacious freshness to the aspect. But as yet the poisoners + had forborne those ingredients which invade the springs of life, resorting + only to such as undermine the health and prepare the way to unsuspected + graves. Out of the infernal variety of the materials at their command, + they had selected a mixture which works by sustaining perpetual fever; + which gives little pain, little suffering, beyond that of lassitude and + thirst; which wastes like consumption, and yet puzzles the physician, by + betraying few or none of its ordinary symptoms. But the disorder as yet + was not incurable,—its progress would gradually cease with the + discontinuance of the venom. + </p> + <p> + Although October was far advanced, the day was as mild and warm as August. + But Percival, who had been watching Helen’s countenance with the anxiety + of love and fear, now proposed that the sitting should be adjourned. The + sun was declining, and it was certainly no longer safe for Helen to be + exposed to the air without exercise. He proposed that they should walk + through the garden, and Helen, rising cheerfully, placed her hand on his + arm. But she had scarcely descended the steps of the terrace when she + stopped short and breathed hard and painfully. The spasm was soon over, + and walking slowly on, they passed Lucretia with a brief word or two, and + were soon out of sight amongst the cedars. + </p> + <p> + “Lean more on my arm, Helen,” said Percival. “How strange it is that the + change of air has done so little for you, and our country doctor still + less! I should feel miserable indeed if Simmons, whom my mother always + considered very clever, did not assure me that there was no ground for + alarm,—that these symptoms were only nervous. Cheer up, Helen; sweet + love, cheer up!” + </p> + <p> + Helen raised her face and strove to smile; but the tears stood in her + eyes. “It would be hard to die now, Percival!” she said falteringly. + </p> + <p> + “To die—oh, Helen! No; we must not stay here longer,—the air + is certainly too keen for you. Perhaps your aunt will go to Italy. Why not + all go there, and seek my mother? And she will nurse you, Helen, and—and—” + He could not trust his voice farther. + </p> + <p> + Helen pressed his arm tenderly. “Forgive me, dear Percival, it is but at + moments that I feel so despondent; now, again, it is past. Ah, I so long + to see your mother! When shall you hear from her? Are you not too + sanguine? Do you really feel sure she will consent to so lowly a choice?” + </p> + <p> + “Never doubt her affection, her appreciation of you,” answered Percival, + gladly, and hoping that Helen’s natural anxiety might be the latent cause + of her dejected spirits; “often, when talking of the future, under these + very cedars, my mother has said: ‘You have no cause to marry for ambition,—marry + only for your happiness.’ She never had a daughter: in return for all her + love, I shall give her that blessing.” + </p> + <p> + Thus talking, the lovers rambled on till the sun set, and then, returning + to the house, they found that Varney and Madame Dalibard had preceded + them. That evening Helen’s spirits rose to their natural buoyancy, and + Percival’s heart was once more set at ease by her silvery laugh. + </p> + <p> + When, at their usual early hour, the rest of the family retired to sleep, + Percival remained in the drawing-room to write again, and at length, to + Lady Mary and Captain Greville. While thus engaged, his valet entered to + say that Beck, who had been out since the early morning, in search of a + horse that had strayed from one of the pastures, had just returned with + the animal, who had wandered nearly as far as Southampton. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to hear it,” said Percival, abstractedly, and continuing his + letter. + </p> + <p> + The valet still lingered. Percival looked up in surprise. “If you please, + sir, you said you particularly wished to see Beck when he came back.” + </p> + <p> + “I—oh, true! Tell him to wait; I will speak to him by and by. You + need not sit up for me; let Beck attend to the bell.” + </p> + <p> + The valet withdrew. Percival continued his letter, and filled page after + page and sheet after sheet; and when at length the letters, not containing + a tithe of what he wished to convey, were brought to a close, he fell into + a revery that lasted till the candles burned low, and the clock from the + turret tolled one. Starting up in surprise at the lapse of time, Percival + then, for the first time, remembered Beck, and rang the bell. + </p> + <p> + The ci-devant sweeper, in his smart livery, appeared at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Beck, my poor fellow, I am ashamed to have kept you waiting so long; but + I received a letter this morning which relates to you. Let me see,—I + left it in my study upstairs. Ah, you’ll never find the way; follow me,—I + have some questions to put to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothin’ agin my carakter, I hopes, your honour,” said Beck, timidly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no!” + </p> + <p> + “Noos of the mattris, then?” exclaimed Beck, joyfully. + </p> + <p> + “Nor that either,” answered Percival, laughing, as he lighted the chamber + candlestick, and, followed by Beck, ascended the grand staircase to a + small room which, as it adjoined his sleeping apartment, he had habitually + used as his morning writing-room and study. + </p> + <p> + Percival had, indeed, received that day a letter which had occasioned him + much surprise; it was from John Ardworth, and ran thus:— + </p> + <p> + MY DEAR PERCIVAL,—It seems that you have taken into your service a + young man known only by the name of Beck. Is he now with you at Laughton? + If so, pray retain him, and suffer him to be in readiness to come to me at + a day’s notice if wanted, though it is probable enough that I may rather + come to you. At present, strange as it may seem to you, I am detained in + London by business connected with that important personage. Will you ask + him carelessly, as it were, in the mean while; the following questions:— + </p> + <p> + First, how did he become possessed of a certain child’s coral which he + left at the house of one Becky Carruthers, in Cole’s Building? + </p> + <p> + Secondly, is he aware of any mark on his arm,—if so, will he + describe it? + </p> + <p> + Thirdly, how long has he known the said Becky Carruthers? + </p> + <p> + Fourthly, does he believe her to be honest and truthful? + </p> + <p> + Take a memorandum of his answers, and send it to me. I am pretty well + aware of what they are likely to be; but I desire you to put the + questions, that I may judge if there be any discrepancy between his + statement and that of Mrs. Carruthers. I have much to tell you, and am + eager to receive your kind congratulations upon an event that has given me + more happiness than the fugitive success of my little book. Tenderest + regards to Helen; and hoping soon to see you, Ever affectionately yours. + </p> + <p> + P.S.—Say not a word of the contents of this letter to Madame + Dalibard, Helen, or to any one except Beck. Caution him to the same + discretion. If you can’t trust to his silence, send him to town. + </p> + <p> + When the post brought this letter, Beck was already gone on his errand, + and after puzzling himself with vague conjectures, Percival’s mind had + been naturally too absorbed with his anxieties for Helen to recur much to + the subject. + </p> + <p> + Now, refreshing his memory with the contents of the letter, he drew pen + and ink before him, put the questions seriatim, noted down the answers as + desired, and smiling at Beck’s frightened curiosity to know who could + possibly care about such matters, and feeling confident (from that very + fright) of his discretion, dismissed the groom to his repose. + </p> + <p> + Beck had never been in that part of the house before; and when he got into + the corridor he became bewildered, and knew not which turn to take, the + right or the left. He had no candle with him; but the moon came clear + through a high and wide skylight: the light, however, gave him no guide. + While pausing, much perplexed, and not sure that he should even know again + the door of the room he had just quitted, if venturing to apply to his + young master for a clew through such a labyrinth, he was inexpressibly + startled and appalled by a sudden apparition. A door at one end of the + corridor opened noiselessly, and a figure, at first scarcely + distinguishable, for it was robed from head to foot in a black, shapeless + garb, scarcely giving even the outline of the human form, stole forth. + Beck rubbed his eyes and crept mechanically close within the recess of one + of the doors that communicated with the passage. The figure advanced a few + steps towards him; and what words can describe his astonishment when he + beheld thus erect, and in full possession of physical power and motion, + the palsied cripple whose chair he had often seen wheeled into the garden, + and whose unhappy state was the common topic of comment in the servants’ + hall! Yes, the moon from above shone full upon that face which never, once + seen, could be forgotten. And it seemed more than mortally stern and pale, + contrasted with the sable of the strange garb, and beheld by that mournful + light. Had a ghost, indeed, risen from the dead, it could scarcely have + appalled him more. Madame Dalibard did not see the involuntary spy; for + the recess in which he had crept was on that side of the wall on which the + moon’s shadow was cast. With a quick step she turned into another room, + opposite that which she had quitted, the door of which stood ajar, and + vanished noiselessly as she had appeared. + </p> + <p> + Taught suspicion by his earlier acquaintance with the “night-side” of + human nature, Beck had good cause for it here. This detection of an + imposture most familiar to his experience,—that of a pretended + cripple; the hour of the night; the evil expression on the face of the + deceitful guest; Madame Dalibard’s familiar intimacy and near connection + with Varney,—Varney, the visitor to Grabman, who received no + visitors but those who desire, not to go to law, but to escape from its + penalties; Varney, who had dared to brave the resurrection man in his den, + and who seemed so fearlessly at home in abodes where nought but poverty + could protect the honest; Varney now, with that strange woman, an inmate + of a house in which the master was so young, so inexperienced, so liable + to be duped by his own generous nature,—all these ideas, vaguely + combined, inspired Beck with as vague a terror. Surely something, he knew + not what, was about to be perpetrated against his benefactor,—some + scheme of villany which it was his duty to detect. He breathed hard, + formed his resolves, and stealing on tiptoe, followed the shadowy form of + the poisoner through the half-opened doorway. The shutters of the room of + which he thus crossed the threshold were not closed,—the moon shone + in bright and still. He kept his body behind the door, peeping in with + straining, fearful stare. He saw Madame Dalibard standing beside a bed + round which the curtains were closed,—standing for a moment or so + motionless, and as if in the act of listening, with one hand on a table + beside the bed. He then saw her take from the folds of her dress something + white and glittering, and pour from it what appeared to him but a drop or + two, cautiously, slowly, into a phial on the table, from which she + withdrew the stopper; that done, she left the phial where she had found + it, again paused a moment, and turned towards the door. Beck retreated + hastily to his former hiding-place, and gained it in time. Again the + shadowy form passed him, and again the white face in the white moonlight + froze his blood with its fell and horrible expression. He remained + cowering and shrinking against the wall for some time, striving to collect + his wits, and considering what he should do. His first thought was to go + at once and inform St. John of what he had witnessed. But the poor have a + proverbial dread of deposing aught against a superior. Madame Dalibard + would deny his tale, the guest would be believed against the menial,—he + would be but dismissed with ignominy. At that idea, he left his + hiding-place, and crept along the corridor, in the hope of finding some + passage at the end which might lead to the offices. But when he arrived at + the other extremity, he was only met by great folding-doors, which + evidently communicated with the state apartments; he must retrace his + steps. He did so; and when he came to the door which Madame Dalibard had + entered, and which still stood ajar, he had recovered some courage, and + with courage, curiosity seized him. For what purpose could the strange + woman seek that room at night thus feloniously? What could she have + poured, and with such stealthy caution, into the phial? Naturally and + suddenly the idea of poison flashed across him. Tales of such crime (as, + indeed, of all crime) had necessarily often thrilled the ear of the + vagrant fellow-lodger with burglars and outlaws. But poison to whom? Could + it be meant for his benefactor? Could St. John sleep in that room? Why + not? The woman had sought the chamber before her young host had retired to + rest, and mingled her potion with some medicinal draught. All fear + vanished before the notion of danger to his employer. He stole at once + through the doorway, and noiselessly approached the table on which yet lay + the phial. His hand closed on it firmly. He resolved to carry it away, and + consider next morning what next to do. At all events, it might contain + some proof to back his tale and justify his suspicions. When he came once + more into the corridor, he made a quick rush onwards, and luckily arrived + at the staircase. There the blood-red stains reflected on the stone floors + from the blazoned casements daunted him little less than the sight at + which his hair still bristled. He scarcely drew breath till he had got + into his own little crib, in the wing set apart for the stable-men, when, + at length, he fell into broken and agitated sleep,—the visions of + all that had successively disturbed him waking, united confusedly, as in + one picture of gloom and terror. He thought that he was in his old loft in + St. Giles’s, that the Gravestealer was wrestling with Varney for his body, + while he himself, lying powerless on his pallet, fancied he should be safe + as long as he could retain, as a talisman, his child’s coral, which he + clasped to his heart. Suddenly, in that black, shapeless garb, in which he + had beheld her, Madame Dalibard bent over him with her stern, colourless + face, and wrenched from him his charm. Then, ceasing his struggle with his + horrible antagonist, Varney laughed aloud, and the Gravestealer seized him + in his deadly arms. + </p> + <p> + <a name="Blink2HCH0032" id="Blink2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. THE TAPESTRY CHAMBER. + </h2> + <p> + When Beck woke the next morning, and gradually recalled all that had so + startled and appalled him the previous night, the grateful creature felt, + less by the process of reason than by a brute instinct, that in the + mysterious resuscitation and nocturnal wanderings of the pretended + paralytic, some danger menaced his master; he became anxious to learn + whether it was really St. John’s room Madame Dalibard stealthily visited. + A bright idea struck him; and in the course of the day, at an hour when + the family were out of doors, he contrived to coax the good-natured valet, + who had taken him under his special protection, to show him over the + house. He had heard the other servants say there was such a power of fine + things that a peep into the rooms was as good as a show, and the valet + felt pride in being cicerone even to Beck. After having stared + sufficiently at the banquet-hall and the drawing-room, the armour, the + busts, and the pictures, and listened, open-mouthed, to his guide’s + critical observations, Beck was led up the great stairs into the old + family picture-gallery, and into Sir Miles’s ancient room at the end, + which had been left undisturbed, with the bed still in the angle; on + returning thence, Beck found himself in the corridor which communicated + with the principal bedrooms, in which he had lost himself the night + before. + </p> + <p> + “And vot room be that vith the littul vite ‘ead h-over the door?” asked + Beck, pointing to the chamber from which Madame Dalibard had emerged. + </p> + <p> + “That white head, Master Beck, is Floorer the goddess; but a heathen like + you knows nothing about goddesses. Floorer has a half-moon in her hair, + you see, which shows that the idolatrous Turks worship her; for the + Turkish flag is a half-moon, as I have seen at Constantinople. I have + travelled, Beck.” + </p> + <p> + “And vot room be it? Is it the master’s?” persisted Beck. + </p> + <p> + “No, the pretty young lady, Miss Mainwaring, has it at present. There is + nothing to see in it. But that one opposite,” and the valet advanced to + the door through which Madame Dalibard had disappeared,—“that is + curious; and as Madame is out, we may just take a peep.” He opened the + door gently, and Beck looked in. “This, which is called the + turret-chamber, was Madame’s when she was a girl, I have heard old Bessy + say; so Master pops her there now. For my part, I’d rather sleep in your + little crib than have those great gruff-looking figures staring at me by + the firelight, and shaking their heads with every wind on a winter’s + night.” And the valet took a pinch of snuff as he drew Beck’s attention to + the faded tapestry on the walls. As they spoke, the draught between the + door and the window caused the gloomy arras to wave with a life-like + motion; and to those more superstitious than romantic, the chamber had + certainly no inviting aspect. + </p> + <p> + “I never sees these old tapestry rooms,” said the valet, “without thinking + of the story of the lady who, coming from a ball and taking off her + jewels, happened to look up, and saw an eye in one of the figures which + she felt sure was no peeper in worsted.” + </p> + <p> + “Vot vos it, then?” asked Beck, timidly lifting up the hangings, and + noticing that there was a considerable space between them and the wall, + which was filled up in part by closets and wardrobes set into the walls, + with intervals more than deep enough for the hiding-place of a man. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” answered the valet, “it was a thief. He had come for the jewels; + but the lady had the presence of mind to say aloud, as if to herself, that + she had forgotten something, slipped out of the room, locked the door, + called up the servants, and the thief—who was no less a person than + the under-butler—was nabbed.” + </p> + <p> + “And the French ‘oman sleeps ‘ere?” said Beck, musingly. + </p> + <p> + “French ‘oman! Master Beck, nothing’s so vulgar as these nicknames in a + first-rate situation. It is all very well when one lives with skinflints, + but with such a master as our’n, respect’s the go. Besides, Madame is not + a French ‘oman; she is one of the family,—and as old a family it is, + too, as e’er a lord’s in the three kingdoms. But come, your curiosity is + satisfied now, and you must trot back to your horses.” + </p> + <p> + As Beck returned to the stables, his mind yet more misgave him as to the + criminal designs of his master’s visitor. It was from Helen’s room that + the false cripple had walked, and the ill health of the poor young lady + was a general subject of compassionate comment. But Madame Dalibard was + Helen’s relation: from what motive could she harbour an evil thought + against her own niece? But still, if those drops were poured into the + healing draught for good, why so secretly? Once more he revolved the idea + of speaking to St. John: an accident dissuaded him from this intention,—the + only proof to back his tale was the mysterious phial he had carried away; + but unluckily, forgetting that it was in his pocket, at a time when he + flung off his coat to groom one of the horses, the bottle struck against + the corn-bin and broke; all the contents were spilt. This incident made + him suspend his intention, and wait till he could obtain some fresh + evidence of evil intentions. The day passed without any other noticeable + occurrence. The doctor called, found Helen somewhat better, and ascribed + it to his medicines, especially to the effect of his tonic draught the + first thing in the morning. Helen smiled. “Nay, Doctor,” said she, “this + morning, at least, it was forgotten. I did not find it by my bedside. + Don’t tell my aunt; she would be so angry.” The doctor looked rather + discomposed. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he, soon recovering his good humour, “since you are certainly + better to-day without the draught, discontinue it also to-morrow. I will + make an alteration for the day after.” So that night Madame Dalibard + visited in vain her niece’s chamber: Helen had a reprieve. + </p> + <p> + <a name="Blink2HCH0033" id="Blink2HCH0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. THE SHADES ON THE DIAL + </h2> + <p> + The following morning was indeed eventful to the family at Laughton; and + as if conscious of what it brought forth, it rose dreary and sunless. One + heavy mist covered all the landscape, and a raw, drizzling rain fell + pattering through the yellow leaves. + </p> + <p> + Madame Dalibard, pleading her infirmities, rarely left her room before + noon, and Varney professed himself very irregular in his hours of rising; + the breakfast, therefore, afforded no social assembly to the family, but + each took that meal in the solitude of his or her own chamber. Percival, + in whom all habits partook of the healthfulness and simplicity of his + character, rose habitually early, and that day, in spite of the weather, + walked forth betimes to meet the person charged with the letters from the + post. He had done so for the last three or four days, impatient to hear + from his mother, and calculating that it was full time to receive the + expected answer to his confession and his prayer. He met the messenger at + the bottom of the park, not far from Guy’s Oak. This day he was not + disappointed. The letter-bag contained three letters for himself,—two + with the foreign postmark, the third in Ardworth’s hand. It contained also + a letter for Madame Dalibard, and two for Varney. + </p> + <p> + Leaving the messenger to take these last to the Hall, Percival, with his + own prizes, plunged into the hollow of the glen before him, and, seating + himself at the foot of Guy’s Oak, through the vast branches of which the + rain scarcely came, and only in single, mournful drops, he opened first + the letter in his mother’s hand, and read as follows:— + </p> + <p> + MY DEAR, DEAR SON,—How can I express to you the alarm your letter + has given to me! So these, then, are the new relations you have + discovered! I fondly imagined that you were alluding to some of my own + family, and conjecturing who, amongst my many cousins, could have so + captivated your attention. These the new relations,—Lucretia + Dalibard, Helen Mainwaring! Percival, do you not know —— No, + you cannot know that Helen Mainwaring is the daughter of a disgraced man, + of one who (more than suspected of fraud in the bank in which he was a + partner) left his country, condemned even by his own father. If you doubt + this, you have but to inquire at ——, not ten miles from + Laughton, where the elder Mainwaring resided. Ask there what became of + William Mainwaring. And Lucretia, you do not know that the dying prayer of + her uncle, Sir Miles St. John, was that she might never enter the house he + bequeathed to your father. Not till after my poor Charles’s death did I + know the exact cause for Sir Miles’s displeasure, though confident it was + just; but then amongst his papers I found the ungrateful letter which + betrayed thoughts so dark and passions so unwomanly that I blushed for my + sex to read it. Could it be possible that that poor old man’s prayers were + unheeded, that that treacherous step could ever cross your threshold, that + that cruel eye, which read with such barbarous joy the ravages of death on + a benefactor’s face, could rest on the hearth by which your frank, + truthful countenance has so often smiled away my tears, I should feel + indeed as if a thunder-cloud hung over the roof. No, if you marry the + niece, the aunt must be banished from your house. Good heavens! and it is + the daughter of William Mainwaring, the niece and ward of Lucretia + Dalibard, to whom you have given your faithful affection, whom you single + from the world as your wife! Oh, my son,—my beloved, my sole + surviving child,—do not think that I blame you, that my heart does + not bleed while I write thus; but I implore you on my knees to pause at + least, to suspend this intercourse till I myself can reach England. And + what then? Why, then, Percival, I promise, on my part, that I will see + your Helen with unprejudiced eyes, that I will put away from me, as far as + possible, all visions of disappointed pride,—the remembrance of + faults not her own,—and if she be as you say and think, I will take + her to my heart and call her ‘Daughter.’ Are you satisfied? If so, come to + me,—come at once, and take comfort from your mother’s lip. How I + long to be with you while you read this; how I tremble at the pain I so + rudely give you! But my poor sister still chains me here, I dare not leave + her, lest I should lose her last sigh. Come then, come; we will console + each other. + </p> + <p> + Your fond (how fond!) and sorrowing mother, + </p> + <p> + MARY ST. JOHN. SORRENTO, October 3, 1831. + </p> + <p> + P.S.—You see by this address that we have left Pisa for this place, + recommended by our physician; hence an unhappy delay of some days in my + reply. Ah, Percival, how sleepless will be my pillow till I hear from you! + </p> + <p> + Long, very long, was it before St. John, mute and overwhelmed with the + sudden shock of his anguish, opened his other letters. The first was from + Captain Greville. + </p> + <p> + What trap have you fallen into, foolish boy? That you would get into some + silly scrape or another, was natural enough. But a scrape for life, sir,—that + is serious! But—God bless you for your candour, my Percival; you + have written to us in time—you are old-fashioned enough to think + that a mother’s consent is necessary to a young man’s union; and you have + left it in our power to save you yet. It is not every boyish fancy that + proves to be true love. But enough of this preaching; I shall do better + than write scolding letters,—I shall come and scold you in person. + My servant is at this very moment packing my portmanteau, the + laquais-de-place is gone to Naples for my passport. Almost as soon as you + receive this I shall be with you; and if I am a day or two later than the + mail, be patient: do not commit yourself further. Break your heart if you + please, but don’t implicate your honour. I shall come at once to Curzon + Street. Adieu! H. GREVILLE. + </p> + <p> + Ardworth’s letter was shorter than the others,—fortunately so, for + otherwise it had been unread:— + </p> + <p> + If I do not come to you myself the day after you receive this, dear + Percival,—which, indeed, is most probable,—I shall send you my + proxy, in one whom, for my sake, I know that you will kindly welcome. He + will undertake my task, and clear up all the mysteries with which, I + trust, my correspondence has thoroughly bewildered your lively + imagination. Yours ever, JOHN ARDWORTH. GRAY’S INN. + </p> + <p> + Little indeed did Percival’s imagination busy itself with the mysteries of + Ardworth’s correspondence. His mind scarcely took in the sense of the + words over which his eye mechanically wandered. + </p> + <p> + And the letter which narrated the visit of Madame Dalibard to the house + thus solemnly interdicted to her step was on its way to his mother,—nay, + by this time would almost have reached her! Greville was on the road,—nay, + as his tutor’s letter had been forwarded from London, might perhaps be in + Curzon Street that day. How desirable to see him before he could reach + Laughton, to prepare him for Madame Dalibard’s visit, for Helen’s illness, + explain the position in which he was involved, and conciliate the old + soldier’s rough, kind heart to his love and his distress. + </p> + <p> + He did not dread the meeting with Greville,—he yearned for it. He + needed an adviser, a confidant, a friend. To dismiss abruptly his guests + from his house,—impossible; to abandon Helen because of her father’s + crime or her aunt’s fault (whatever that last might be, and no clear + detail of it was given),—that never entered his thoughts! Pure and + unsullied, the starry face of Helen shone the holier for the cloud around + it. An inexpressible and chivalrous compassion mingled with his love and + confirmed his faith. She, poor child, to suffer for the deeds of others,—no. + What availed his power as man, and dignity as gentleman, if they could not + wrap in their own shelter the one by whom such shelter was now doubly + needed? Thus, amidst all his emotions, firm and resolved at least on one + point, and beginning already to recover the hope of his sanguine nature, + from his reliance on his mother’s love, on the promises that softened her + disclosures and warnings, and on his conviction that Helen had only to be + seen for every scruple to give way, Percival wandered back towards the + house, and coming abruptly on the terrace, he encountered Varney, who was + leaning motionless against the balustrades, with an open letter in his + hand. Varney was deadly pale, and there was the trace of some recent and + gloomy agitation in the relaxed muscles of his cheeks, usually so firmly + rounded. But Percival did not heed his appearance as he took him gravely + by the arm, and leading him into the garden, said, after a painful pause,— + </p> + <p> + “Varney, I am about to ask you two questions, which your close connection + with Madame Dalibard may enable you to answer, but in which, from obvious + motives, I must demand the strictest confidence. You will not hint to her + or to Helen what I am about to say?” + </p> + <p> + Varney stared uneasily on Percival’s serious countenance, and gave the + promise required. + </p> + <p> + “First, then, for what offence was Madame Dalibard expelled her uncle’s + house,—this house of Laughton? + </p> + <p> + “Secondly, what is the crime with which Mr. Mainwaring, Helen’s father, is + charged?” + </p> + <p> + “With regard to the first,” said Varney, recovering his composure, “I + thought I had already told you that Sir Miles was a proud man, and that in + consequence of discovering a girlish flirtation between his niece Lucretia + (now Madame Dalibard) and Mainwaring, who afterwards jilted her for + Helen’s mother, he altered his will; ‘expelled her his house’ is too harsh + a phrase. This is all I know. With regard to the second question, no crime + was ever brought home to William Mainwaring; he was suspected of dealing + improperly with the funds of the bank, and he repaid the alleged deficit + by the sacrifice of all he possessed.” + </p> + <p> + “This is the truth?” exclaimed Percival, joyfully. + </p> + <p> + “The plain truth, I believe; but why these questions at this moment? Ah, + you too, I see, have had letters,—I understand. Lady Mary gives + these reasons for withholding her consent.” + </p> + <p> + “Her consent is not withheld,” answered Percival; “but shall I own it? + Remember, I have your promise not to wound and offend Madame Dalibard by + the disclosure: my mother does refer to the subjects I have alluded to, + and Captain Greville, my old friend and tutor, is on his way to England; + perhaps to-morrow he may arrive at Laughton.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” said Varney, startled, “to-morrow! And what sort of a man is this + Captain Greville?” + </p> + <p> + “The best man possible for such a case as mine,—kind-hearted, yet + cool, sagacious; the finest observer, the quickest judge of character,—nothing + escapes him. Oh, one interview will suffice to show him all Helen’s + innocent and matchless excellence.” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow! this man comes to-morrow!” + </p> + <p> + “All that I fear is,—for he is rather rough and blunt in his manner,—all + that I fear is his first surprise, and, dare I say displeasure, at seeing + this poor Madame Dalibard, whose faults, I fear, were graver than you + suppose, at the house from which her uncle—to whom, indeed, I owe + this inheritance—” + </p> + <p> + “I see, I see!” interrupted Varney, quickly. “And Madame Dalibard is the + most susceptible of women,—so well-born and so poor, so gifted and + so helpless; it is natural. Can you not write, and put off this Captain + Greville for a few days,—until, indeed, I can find some excuse for + terminating our visit?” + </p> + <p> + “But my letter may be hardly in time to reach him; he may be in town + to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Go then to town at once; you can be back late at night, or at least + to-morrow. Anything better than wounding the pride of a woman on whom, + after all, you must depend for free and open intercourse with Helen.” + </p> + <p> + “That is exactly what I thought of; but what excuse—” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse,—a thousand! Every man coming of age into such a property + has business with his lawyers. Or why not say simply that you want to meet + a friend of yours who has just left your mother in Italy? In short, any + excuse suffices, and none can be offensive.” + </p> + <p> + “I will order my carriage instantly.” + </p> + <p> + “Right!” exclaimed Varney; and his eye followed the receding form of + Percival with a mixture of fierce exultation and anxious fear. Then, + turning towards the window of the turret-chamber in which Madame Dalibard + reposed, and seeing it still closed, he muttered an impatient oath; but + even while he did so, the shutters were slowly opened, and a footman, + stepping from the porch, approached Varney with a message that Madame + Dalibard would see him in five minutes, if he would then have the goodness + to ascend to her room. + </p> + <p> + Before that time was well expired, Varney was in the chamber. Madame + Dalibard was up and in her chair; and the unwonted joy which her + countenance evinced was in strong contrast with the sombre shade upon her + son-in-law’s brow, and the nervous quiver of his lip. + </p> + <p> + “Gabriel,” she said, as he drew near to her, “my son is found!” + </p> + <p> + “I know it,” he answered petulantly. “You! From whom?” + </p> + <p> + “From Grabman.” + </p> + <p> + “And I from a still better authority,—from Walter Ardworth himself. + He lives; he will restore my child!” She extended a letter while she + spoke. He, in return, gave her, not that still crumpled in his hand, but + one which he drew from his breast. These letters severally occupied both, + begun and finished almost in the same moment. + </p> + <p> + That from Grabman ran thus:— + </p> + <p> + DEAR JASON,—Toss up your hat and cry ‘hip, hip!’ At last, from + person to person, I have tracked the lost Vincent Braddell. He lives + still! We can maintain his identity in any court of law. Scarce in time + for the post, I have not a moment for further particulars. I shall employ + the next two days in reducing all the evidence to a regular digest, which + I will despatch to you. Meanwhile, prepare, as soon as may be, to put me + in possession of my fee,—5000 pounds; and my expedition merits + something more. Yours, NICHOLAS GRABMAN. + </p> + <p> + The letter from Ardworth was no less positive:— + </p> + <p> + MADAM,—In obedience to the commands of a dying friend, I took charge + of his infant and concealed its existence from his mother,—yourself. + On returning to England, I need not say that I was not unmindful of my + trust. Your son lives; and after mature reflection I have resolved to + restore him to your arms. In this I have been decided by what I have + heard, from one whom I can trust, of your altered habits, your decorous + life, your melancholy infirmities, and the generous protection you have + given to the orphan of my poor cousin Susan, my old friend Mainwaring. + Alfred Braddell himself, if it be permitted to him to look down and read + my motives, will pardon me, I venture to feel assured, this departure from + his injunctions. Whatever the faults which displeased him, they have been + amply chastised. And your son, grown to man, can no longer be endangered + by example, in tending the couch, or soothing the repentance of his + mother. + </p> + <p> + These words are severe; but you will pardon them in him who gives you back + your child. I shall venture to wait on you in person, with such proofs as + may satisfy you as to the identity of your son. I count on arriving at + Laughton to-morrow. Meanwhile, I simply sign myself by a name in which you + will recognize the kinsman to one branch of your family, and the friend of + your dead husband. J. WALTER ARDWORTH. + </p> + <p> + CRAVEN HOTEL, October, 1831. + </p> + <p> + “Well, and are you not rejoiced?” said Lucretia, gazing surprised on + Varney’s sullen and unsympathizing face. + </p> + <p> + “No! because time presses; because, even while discovering your son, you + may fail in securing his heritage; because, in the midst of your triumph, + I see Newgate opening to myself. Look you, I too have had my news,—less + pleasing than yours. This Stubmore (curse him!) writes me word that he + shall certainly be in town next month at farthest, and that he meditates, + immediately on his arrival, transferring the legacy from the Bank of + England to an excellent mortgage of which he has heard. Were it not for + this scheme of ours, nothing would be left for me but flight and exile.” + </p> + <p> + “A month,—that is a long time. Do you think, now that my son is + found, and that son like John Ardworth (for there can be no doubt that my + surmise was right), with genius to make station the pedestal to the power + I dreamed of in my youth, but which my sex forbade me to attain,—do + you think I will keep him a month from his inheritance? Before the month + is out, you shall replace what you have taken, and buy your trustee’s + silence, if need be, either from the sums you have insured, or from the + rents of Laughton.” + </p> + <p> + “Lucretia,” said Varney, whose fresh colours had grown livid, “what is to + be done must be done at once. Percival St. John has heard from his mother. + Attend.” And Varney rapidly related the questions St. John had put to him, + the dreaded arrival of Captain Greville, the danger of so keen an + observer, the necessity, at all events, of abridging their visit, the + urgency of hastening the catastrophe to its close. + </p> + <p> + Lucretia listened in ominous and steadfast silence. + </p> + <p> + “But,” she said at last, “you have persuaded St. John to give this man the + meeting in London,—to put off his visit for the time. St. John will + return to us to-morrow. Well, and if he finds his Helen is no more! Two + nights ago I, for the first time, mingled in the morning draught that + which has no antidote and no cure. This night two drops more, and St. John + will return to find that Death is in the house before him. And then for + himself,—the sole remaining barrier between my son and this + inheritance,—for himself, why, grief sometimes kills suddenly; and + there be drugs whose effect simulates the death-stroke of grief.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet, yet, this rapidity, if necessary, is perilous. Nothing in Helen’s + state forbodes sudden death by natural means. The strangeness of two + deaths, both so young; Greville in England, if not here,—hastening + down to examine, to inquire. With such prepossessions against you, there + must be an inquest.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and what can be discovered? It was I who shrank before,—it is + I who now urge despatch. I feel as in my proper home in these halls. I + would not leave them again but to my grave. I stand on the hearth of my + youth; I fight for my rights and my son’s! Perish those who oppose me!” + </p> + <p> + A fell energy and power were in the aspect of the murderess as she thus + spoke; and while her determination awed the inferior villany of Varney, it + served somewhat to mitigate his fears. + </p> + <p> + As in more detail they began to arrange their execrable plans, Percival, + while the horses were being harnessed to take him to the nearest + post-town, sought Helen, and found her in the little chamber which he had + described and appropriated as her own, when his fond fancy had sketched + the fair outline of the future. + </p> + <p> + This room had been originally fitted up for the private devotions of the + Roman Catholic wife of an ancestor in the reign of Charles II; and in a + recess, half veiled by a curtain, there still stood that holy symbol + which, whether Protestant or Roman Catholic, no one sincerely penetrated + with the solemn pathos of sacred history can behold unmoved,—the + Cross of the Divine Agony. Before this holy symbol Helen stood in earnest + reverence. She did not kneel (for the forms of the religion in which she + had been reared were opposed to that posture of worship before the graven + image), but you could see in that countenance, eloquent at once with the + enthusiasm and the meekness of piety, that the soul was filled with the + memories and the hopes which, age after age, have consoled the sufferer + and inspired the martyr. The soul knelt to the idea, if the knee bowed not + to the image, embracing the tender grandeur of the sacrifice and the vast + inheritance opened to faith in the redemption. + </p> + <p> + The young man held his breath while he gazed. He was moved, and he was + awed. Slowly Helen turned towards him, and, smiling sweetly, held out to + him her hand. They seated themselves in silence in the depth of the + overhanging casement; and the mournful character of the scene without, + where dimly, through the misty rains, gloomed the dark foliage of the + cedars, made them insensibly draw closer to each other in the instinct of + love when the world frowns around it. Percival wanted the courage to say + that he had come to take farewell, though but for a day, and Helen spoke + first. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot guess why it is, Percival, but I am startled at the change I + feel in myself—no, not in health, dear Percival; I mean in mind—during + the last few months,—since, indeed, we have known each other. I + remember so well the morning in which my aunt’s letter arrived at the dear + vicarage. We were returning from the village fair, and my good guardian + was smiling at my notions of the world. I was then so giddy and light and + thoughtless, everything presented itself to me in such gay colours, I + scarcely believed in sorrow. And now I feel as if I were awakened to a + truer sense of nature,—of the ends of our being here; I seem to know + that life is a grave and solemn thing. Yet I am not less happy, Percival. + No, I think rather that I knew not true happiness till I knew you. I have + read somewhere that the slave is gay in his holiday from toil; if you free + him, if you educate him, the gayety vanishes, and he cares no more for the + dance under the palm-tree. But is he less happy? So it is with me!” + </p> + <p> + “My sweet Helen, I would rather have one gay smile of old, the arch, + careless laugh which came so naturally from those rosy lips, than hear you + talk of happiness with that quiver in your voice,—those tears in + your eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet gayety,” said Helen, thoughtfully, and in the strain of her pure, + truthful poetry of soul, “is only the light impression of the present + moment,—the play of the mere spirits; and happiness seems a + forethought of the future, spreading on, far and broad, over all time and + space.” + </p> + <p> + “And you live, then, in the future at last; you have no misgivings now, my + Helen? Well, that comforts me. Say it, Helen,—say the future will be + ours!” + </p> + <p> + “It will, it will,—forever and forever,” said Helen, earnestly; and + her eyes involuntarily rested on the Cross. + </p> + <p> + In his younger spirit and less imaginative nature Percival did not + comprehend the depth of sadness implied in Helen’s answer; taking it + literally, he felt as if a load were lifted from his heart, and kissing + with rapture the hand he held, he exclaimed: “Yes, this shall soon, oh, + soon be mine! I fear nothing while you hope. You cannot guess how those + words have cheered me; for I am leaving you, though but for a few hours, + and I shall repeat those words, for they will ring in my ear, in my heart, + till we meet again.” + </p> + <p> + “Leaving me!” said Helen, turning pale, and her clasp on his hand + tightening. Poor child, she felt mysteriously a sentiment of protection in + his presence. + </p> + <p> + “But at most for a day. My old tutor, of whom we have so often conversed, + is on his way to England,—perhaps even now in London. He has some + wrong impressions against your aunt; his manner is blunt and rough. It is + necessary that I should see him before he comes hither,—you know how + susceptible is your aunt’s pride,—just to prepare him for meeting + her. You understand?” + </p> + <p> + “What impressions against my aunt? Does he even know her?” asked Helen. + And if such a sentiment as suspicion could cross that candid innocence of + mind, that sentiment towards this stern relation whose arms had never + embraced her, whose lips had never spoken of the past, whose history was + as a sealed volume, disturbed and disquieted her. + </p> + <p> + “It is because he has never known her that he does her wrong. Some old + story of her indiscretion as a girl, of her uncle’s displeasure,—what + matters now?” said Percival, shrinking sensitively from one disclosure + that might wound Helen in her kinswoman. “Meanwhile, dearest, you will be + prudent,—you will avoid this damp air, and keep quietly at home, and + amuse yourself, sweet fancier of the future, in planning how to improve + these old halls when they and their unworthy master are your own. God + bless you, God guard you, Helen!” + </p> + <p> + He rose, and with that loyal chivalry of love which felt respect the more + for the careless guardianship to which his Helen was intrusted, he + refrained from that parting kiss which their pure courtship warranted, for + which his lip yearned. But as he lingered, an irresistible impulse moved + Helen’s heart. Mechanically she opened her arms, and her head sank upon + his shoulder. In that embrace they remained some moments silent, and an + angel might unreprovingly have heard their hearts beat through the + stillness. + </p> + <p> + At length Percival tore himself from those arms which relaxed their + imploring hold reluctantly; she heard his hurried step descend the stairs, + and in a moment more the roll of the wheels in the court without; a dreary + sense, as of some utter desertion, some everlasting bereavement, chilled + and appalled her. She stood motionless, as if turned to stone, on the + floor; suddenly the touch of something warm on her hand, a plaining whine, + awoke her attention; Percival’s favourite dog missed his master, and had + slunk for refuge to her. The dread sentiment of loneliness vanished in + that humble companionship; and seating herself on the ground, she took the + dog in her arms, and bending over it, wept in silence. + </p> + <p> + <a name="Blink2HCH0034" id="Blink2HCH0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. MURDER, TOWARDS HIS DESIGN, MOVES LIKE A GHOST. + </h2> + <p> + The reader will doubtless have observed the consummate art with which the + poisoner had hitherto advanced upon her prey. The design conceived from + afar, and executed with elaborate stealth, defied every chance of + detection against which the ingenuity of practised villany could guard. + Grant even that the deadly drugs should betray the nature of the death + they inflicted, that by some unconjectured secret in the science of + chemistry the presence of those vegetable compounds which had hitherto + baffled every known and positive test in the posthumous examination of the + most experienced surgeons, should be clearly ascertained, not one + suspicion seemed likely to fall upon the ministrant of death. The + medicines were never brought to Madame Dalibard, were never given by her + hand; nothing ever tasted by the victim could be tracked to her aunt. The + helpless condition of the cripple, which Lucretia had assumed, forbade all + notion even of her power of movement. Only in the dead of night when, as + she believed, every human eye that could watch her was sealed in sleep, + and then in those dark habiliments which (even as might sometimes happen, + if the victim herself were awake) a chance ray of light struggling through + chink or shutter could scarcely distinguish from the general gloom, did + she steal to the chamber and infuse the colourless and tasteless liquid + [The celebrated acqua di Tufania (Tufania water) was wholly without taste + or colour] in the morning draught, meant to bring strength and healing. + Grant that the draught was untouched, that it was examined by the surgeon, + that the fell admixture could be detected, suspicion would wander anywhere + rather than to that crippled and helpless kinswoman who could not rise + from her bed without aid. + </p> + <p> + But now this patience was to be abandoned, the folds of the serpent were + to coil in one fell clasp upon its prey. + </p> + <p> + Fiend as Lucretia had become, and hardened as were all her resolves by the + discovery of her son, and her impatience to endow him with her forfeited + inheritance, she yet shrank from the face of Helen that day; on the excuse + of illness, she kept her room, and admitted only Varney, who stole in from + time to time, with creeping step and haggard countenance, to sustain her + courage or his own. And every time he entered, he found Lucretia sitting + with Walter Ardworth’s open letter in her hand, and turning with a + preternatural excitement that seemed almost like aberration of mind, from + the grim and horrid topic which he invited, to thoughts of wealth and + power and triumph and exulting prophecies of the fame her son should + achieve. He looked but on the blackness of the gulf, and shuddered; her + vision overleaped it, and smiled on the misty palaces her fancy built + beyond. + </p> + <p> + Late in the evening, before she retired to rest, Helen knocked gently at + her aunt’s door. A voice, quick and startled, bade her enter; she came in, + with her sweet, caressing look, and took Lucretia’s hand, which struggled + from the clasp. Bending over that haggard brow, she said simply, yet to + Lucretia’s ear the voice seemed that of command, “Let me kiss you this + night!” and her lips pressed that brow. The murderess shuddered, and + closed her eyes; when she opened them, the angel visitor was gone. + </p> + <p> + Night deepened and deepened into those hours from the first of which we + number the morn, though night still is at her full. Moonbeam and starbeam + came through the casements shyly and fairylike as on that night when the + murderess was young and crimeless, in deed, if not in thought,—that + night when, in the book of Leechcraft, she meted out the hours in which + the life of her benefactor might still interpose between her passion and + its end. Along the stairs, through the hall, marched the armies of light, + noiseless and still and clear as the judgments of God amidst the darkness + and shadow of mortal destinies. In one chamber alone, the folds, curtained + close, forbade all but a single ray; that ray came direct as the stream + from a lantern; as the beam reflected back from an eye,—as an eye it + seemed watchful and steadfast through the dark; it shot along the floor,—it + fell at the foot of the bed. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, in the exceeding hush, there was a strange and ghastly sound,—it + was the howl of a dog! Helen started from her sleep. Percival’s dog had + followed her into her room; it had coiled itself, grateful for the + kindness, at the foot of the bed. Now it was on the pillow, she felt its + heart beat against her hand,—it was trembling; its hairs bristled + up, and the howl changed into a shrill bark of terror and wrath. Alarmed, + she looked round; quickly between her and that ray from the crevice a + shapeless darkness passed, and was gone, so undistinguishable, so without + outline, that it had no likeness of any living form; like a cloud, like a + thought, like an omen, it came in gloom, and it vanished. + </p> + <p> + Helen was seized with a superstitious terror; the dog continued to tremble + and growl low. All once more was still; the dog sighed itself to rest. The + stillness, the solitude, the glimmer of the moon,—all contributed + yet more to appall the enfeebled nerves of the listening, shrinking girl. + At length she buried her face under the clothes, and towards daybreak fell + into a broken, feverish sleep, haunted with threatening dreams. + </p> + <p> + <a name="Blink2HCH0035" id="Blink2HCH0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. THE MESSENGER SPEEDS. + </h2> + <p> + Towards the afternoon of the following day, an elderly gentleman was + seated in the coffee-room of an hotel at Southampton, engaged in writing a + letter, while the waiter in attendance was employed on the wires that + fettered the petulant spirit contained in a bottle of Schweppe’s + soda-water. There was something in the aspect of the old gentleman, and in + the very tone of his voice, that inspired respect, and the waiter had + cleared the other tables of their latest newspapers to place before him. + He had only just arrived by the packet from Havre, and even the newspapers + had not been to him that primary attraction they generally constitute to + the Englishman returning to his bustling native land, which, somewhat to + his surprise, has contrived to go on tolerably well during his absence. + </p> + <p> + We use our privilege of looking over his shoulder while he writes:— + </p> + <p> + Here I am, then, dear Lady Mary, at Southampton, and within an easy drive + of the old Hall. A file of Galignani’s journals, which I found on the road + between Marseilles and Paris, informed me, under the head of “fashionable + movements,” that Percival St. John, Esquire, was gone to his seat at + Laughton. According to my customary tactics of marching at once to the + seat of action, I therefore made direct for Havre, instead of crossing + from Calais, and I suppose I shall find our young gentleman engaged in the + slaughter of hares and partridges. You see it is a good sign that he can + leave London. Keep up your spirits, my dear friend. If Perce has been + really duped and taken in,—as all you mothers are so apt to fancy,—rely + upon an old soldier to defeat the enemy and expose the ruse. But if, after + all, the girl is such as he describes and believes,—innocent, + artless, and worthy his affection,—oh, then I range myself, with + your own good heart, upon his side. Never will I run the risk of + unsettling a man’s whole character for life by wantonly interfering with + his affections. But there we are agreed. + </p> + <p> + In a few hours I shall be with our dear boy, and his whole heart will come + out clear and candid as when it beat under his midshipman’s true-blue. In + a day or two I shall make him take me to town, to introduce me to the + whole nest of them. Then I shall report progress. Adieu, till then! Kind + regards to your poor sister. I think we shall have a mild winter. Not one + warning twinge as yet of the old rheumatism. Ever your devoted old friend + and preux chevalier, + </p> + <p> + H. GREVILLE. + </p> + <p> + The captain had completed his letter, sipped his soda-water, and was + affixing to his communication his seal, when he heard the rattle of a + post-chaise without. Fancying it was the one he had ordered, he went to + the open window which looked on the street; but the chaise contained + travellers, only halting to change horses. Somewhat to his surprise, and a + little to his chagrin,—for the captain did not count on finding + company at the Hall,—he heard one of the travellers in the chaise + ask the distance to Laughton. The countenance of the questioner was not + familiar to him. But leaving the worthy captain to question the landlord, + without any satisfactory information, and to hasten the chaise for + himself, we accompany the travellers on their way to Laughton. There were + but two,—the proper complement of a post-chaise,—and they were + both of the ruder sex. The elder of the two was a man of middle age, but + whom the wear and tear of active life had evidently advanced towards the + state called elderly. But there was still abundant life in his quick, dark + eye; and that mercurial youthfulness of character which in some happy + constitutions seems to defy years and sorrow, evinced itself in a rapid + play of countenance and as much gesticulation as the narrow confines of + the vehicle and the position of a traveller will permit. The younger man, + far more grave in aspect and quiet in manner, leaned back in the corner + with folded arms, and listened with respectful attention to his companion. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, Dr. Johnson is right,—great happiness in an English + post-chaise properly driven; more exhilarating than a palanquin. ‘Post + equitem sedet atra cura,’—true only of such scrubby hacks as old + Horace could have known. Black Care does not sit behind English posters, + eh, my boy?” As he spoke this, the gentleman had twice let down the glass + of the vehicle, and twice put it up again. + </p> + <p> + “Yet,” he resumed, without noticing the brief, good-humoured reply of his + companion,—“yet this is an anxious business enough that we are + about. I don’t feel quite easy in my conscience. Poor Braddell’s + injunctions were very strict, and I disobey them. It is on your + responsibility, John!” + </p> + <p> + “I take it without hesitation. All the motives for so stern a severance + must have ceased, and is it not a sufficient punishment to find in that + hoped-for son a—” + </p> + <p> + “Poor woman!” interrupted the elder gentleman, in whom we begin to + recognize the soi-disant Mr. Tomkins; “true, indeed, too true. How well I + remember the impression Lucretia Clavering first produced on me; and to + think of her now as a miserable cripple! By Jove, you are right, sir! + Drive on, post-boy, quick, quick!” + </p> + <p> + There was a short silence. + </p> + <p> + The elder gentleman abruptly put his hand upon his companion’s arm. + </p> + <p> + “What consummate acuteness; what patient research you have shown! What + could I have done in this business without you? How often had that + garrulous Mrs. Mivers bored me with Becky Carruthers, and the coral, and + St. Paul’s, and not a suspicion came across me,—a word was + sufficient for you. And then to track this unfeeling old Joplin from place + to place till you find her absolutely a servant under the very roof of + Mrs. Braddell herself! Wonderful! Ah, boy, you will be an honour to the + law and to your country. And what a hard-hearted rascal you must think me + to have deserted you so long.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear father,” said John Ardworth, tenderly, “your love now recompenses + me for all. And ought I not rather to rejoice not to have known the tale + of a mother’s shame until I could half forget it on a father’s breast?” + </p> + <p> + “John,” said the elder Ardworth, with a choking voice, “I ought to wear + sackcloth all my life for having given you such a mother. When I think + what I have suffered from the habit of carelessness in those confounded + money-matters (‘irritamenta malorum,’ indeed!), I have only one + consolation,—that my patient, noble son is free from my vice. You + would not believe what a well-principled, honourable fellow I was at your + age; and yet, how truly I said to my poor friend William Mainwaring one + day at Laughton (I remember it now) ‘Trust me with anything else but + half-a-guinea!’ Why, sir, it was that fault that threw me into low + company,—that brought me in contact with my innkeeper’s daughter at + Limerick. I fell in love, and I married (for, with all my faults, I was + never a seducer, John). I did not own my marriage; why should I?—my + relatives had cut me already. You were born, and, hunted poor devil as I + was, I forgot all by your cradle. Then, in the midst of my troubles, that + ungrateful woman deserted me; then I was led to believe that it was not my + own son whom I had kissed and blessed. Ah, but for that thought should I + have left you as I did? And even in infancy, you had the features only of + your mother. Then, when the death of the adulteress set me free, and years + afterwards, in India, I married again and had new ties, my heart grew + still harder to you. I excused myself by knowing that at least you were + cared for, and trained to good by a better guide than I. But when, by so + strange a hazard, the very priest who had confessed your mother on her + deathbed (she was a Catholic) came to India, and (for he had known me at + Limerick) recognized my altered person, and obeying his penitent’s last + injunctions, assured me that you were my son,—oh, John, then, + believe me, I hastened back to England on the wings of remorse! Love you, + boy! I have left at Madras three children, young and fair, by a woman now + in heaven, who never wronged me, and, by my soul, John Ardworth, you are + dearer to me than all!” + </p> + <p> + The father’s head drooped on his son’s breast as he spoke; then, dashing + away his tears, he resumed,— + </p> + <p> + “Ah, why would not Braddell permit me, as I proposed, to find for his son + the same guardianship as that to which I intrusted my own? But his bigotry + besotted him; a clergyman of the High Church,—that was worse than an + atheist. I had no choice left to me but the roof of that she-hypocrite. + Yet I ought to have come to England when I heard of the child’s loss, + braved duns and all; but I was money-making, money-making,—retribution + for money-wasting; and—well, it’s no use repenting! And—and + there is the lodge, the park, the old trees! Poor Sir Miles!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="Blink2HCH0036" id="Blink2HCH0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI. THE SPY FLIES. + </h2> + <p> + Meanwhile at Laughton there was confusion and alarm. Helen had found + herself more than usually unwell in the morning; towards noon, the maid + who attended her informed Madame Dalibard that she was afraid the poor + young lady had much fever, and inquired if the doctor should be sent for. + Madame Dalibard seemed surprised at the intelligence, and directed her + chair to be wheeled into her niece’s room, in order herself to judge of + Helen’s state. The maid, sure that the doctor would be summoned, hastened + to the stables, and seeing Beck, instructed him to saddle one of the + horses and to await further orders. Beck kept her a few moments talking + while he saddled his horse, and then followed her into the house, + observing that it would save time if he were close at hand. + </p> + <p> + “That is quite true,” said the maid, “and you may as well wait in the + corridor. Madame may wish to speak to you herself, and give you her own + message or note to the doctor.” + </p> + <p> + Beck, full of gloomy suspicions, gladly obeyed, and while the maid entered + the sick-chamber, stood anxiously without. Presently Varney passed him, + and knocked at Helen’s door; the maid half-opened it. + </p> + <p> + “How is Miss Mainwaring?” said he, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “I fear she is worse, sir; but Madame Dalibard does not think there is any + danger.” + </p> + <p> + “No danger! I am glad; but pray ask Madame Dalibard to let me see her for + a few moments in her own room. If she come out, I will wheel her chair to + it. Whether there is danger or not, we had better send for other advice + than this country doctor, who has perhaps mistaken the case; tell her I am + very uneasy, and beg her to join me immediately.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you are quite right, sir,” said the maid, closing the door. + </p> + <p> + Varney then, turning round for the first time, noticed Beck, and said + roughly,— + </p> + <p> + “What do you do here? Wait below till you are sent for.” + </p> + <p> + Beck pulled his forelock, and retreated back, not in the direction of the + principal staircase, but towards that used by the servants, and which his + researches into the topography of the mansion had now made known to him. + To gain these back stairs he had to pass Lucretia’s room; the door stood + ajar; Varney’s face was turned from him. Beck breathed hard, looked round, + then crept within, and in a moment was behind the folds of the tapestry. + </p> + <p> + Soon the chair in which sat Madame Dalibard was drawn by Varney himself + into the room. + </p> + <p> + Shutting the door with care, and turning the key, Gabriel said, with low, + suppressed passion,— + </p> + <p> + “Well; your mind seems wandering,—speak!” + </p> + <p> + “It is strange,” said Lucretia, in hollow tones, “can Nature turn + accomplice, and befriend us here?” + </p> + <p> + “Nature! did you not last night administer the—” + </p> + <p> + “No,” interrupted Lucretia. “No; she came into the room, she kissed me + here,—on the brow that even then was meditating murder. The kiss + burned; it burns still,—it eats into the brain like remorse. But I + did not yield; I read again her false father’s protestation of love; I + read again the letter announcing the discovery of my son, and remorse lay + still. I went forth as before, I stole into her chamber, I had the fatal + crystal in my hand—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well!” + </p> + <p> + “And suddenly there came the fearful howl of a dog, and the dog’s fierce + eyes glared on me. I paused, I trembled; Helen started, woke, called + aloud. I turned and fled. The poison was not given.” + </p> + <p> + Varney ground his teeth. “But this illness! Ha! the effect, perhaps, of + the drops administered two nights ago.” + </p> + <p> + “No; this illness has no symptoms like those the poison should bequeath,—it + is but natural fever, a shock on the nerves; she told me she had been + wakened by the dog’s howl, and seen a dark form, like a thing from the + grave, creeping along the floor. But she is really ill; send for the + physician; there is nothing in her illness to betray the hand of man. Be + it as it may,—that kiss still burns; I will stir in this no more. Do + what you will yourself!” + </p> + <p> + “Fool, fool!” exclaimed Varney, almost rudely grasping her arm. “Remember + how much we have yet to prepare for, how much to do,—and the time so + short! Percival’s return,—perhaps this Greville’s arrival. Give me + the drugs; I will mix them for her in the potion the physician sends. And + when Percival returns,—his Helen dead or dying,—I will attend + on him! Silent still? Recall your son! Soon you will clasp him in your + arms as a beggar, or as the lord of Laughton!” + </p> + <p> + Lucretia shuddered, but did not rise; she drew forth a ring of keys from + her bosom, and pointed towards a secretary. Varney snatched the keys, + unlocked the secretary, seized the fatal casket, and sat down quietly + before it. + </p> + <p> + When the dire selections were made, and secreted about his person, Varney + rose, approached the fire, and blew the wood embers to a blaze. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” he said, with his icy irony of smile, “we may dismiss these + useful instruments,—perhaps forever. Though Walter Ardworth, in + restoring your son, leaves us dependent on that son’s filial affection, + and I may have, therefore, little to hope for from the succession, to + secure which I have risked and am again to risk my life, I yet trust to + that influence which you never fail to obtain over others. I take it for + granted that when these halls are Vincent Braddell’s, we shall have no + need of gold, nor of these pale alchemies. Perish, then, the mute + witnesses of our acts, the elements we have bowed to our will! No poison + shall be found in our hoards! Fire, consume your consuming children!” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, he threw upon the hearth the contents of the casket, and set + his heel upon the logs. A bluish flame shot up, breaking into countless + sparks, and then died. + </p> + <p> + Lucretia watched him without speaking. + </p> + <p> + In coming back towards the table, Varney felt something hard beneath his + tread; he stooped, and picked up the ring which has before been described + as amongst the ghastly treasures of the casket, and which had rolled on + the floor almost to Lucretia’s feet, as he had emptied the contents on the + hearth. + </p> + <p> + “This, at least, need tell no tales,” said he; “a pity to destroy so rare + a piece of workmanship,—one, too, which we never can replace!” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” said Lucretia, abstractedly; “and if detection comes, it may secure + a refuge from the gibbet. Give me the ring.” + </p> + <p> + “A refuge more terrible than the detection,” said Varney,—“beware of + such a thought,” as Lucretia, taking it from his hand, placed the ring on + her finger. + </p> + <p> + “And now I leave you for a while to recollect yourself,—to compose + your countenance and your thoughts. I will send for the physician.” + </p> + <p> + Lucretia, with her eyes fixed on the floor, did not heed him, and he + withdrew. + </p> + <p> + So motionless was her attitude, so still her very breathing, that the + unseen witness behind the tapestry, who, while struck with horror at what + he had overheard (the general purport of which it was impossible that he + could misunderstand), was parched with impatience to escape to rescue his + beloved master from his impending fate, and warn him of the fate hovering + nearer still over Helen, ventured to creep along the wall to the + threshold, to peer forth from the arras, and seeing her eyes still + downcast, to emerge, and place his hand on the door. At that very moment + Lucretia looked up, and saw him gliding from the tapestry; their eyes met: + his were fascinated as the bird’s by the snake’s. At the sight, all her + craft, her intellect, returned. With a glance, she comprehended the + terrible danger that awaited her. Before he was aware of her movement, she + was at his side; her hand on his own, her voice in his ear. + </p> + <p> + “Stir not a step, utter not a sound, or you are—” + </p> + <p> + Beck did not suffer her to proceed. With the violence rather of fear than + of courage, he struck her to the ground; but she clung to him still, and + though rendered for the moment speechless by the suddenness of the blow, + her eyes took an expression of unspeakable cruelty and fierceness. He + struggled with all his might to shake her off; as he did so, she placed + feebly her other hand upon the wrist of the lifted arm that had smitten + her, and he felt a sharp pain, as if the nails had fastened into the + flesh. This but exasperated him to new efforts. He extricated himself from + her grasp, which relaxed as her lips writhed into a smile of scorn and + triumph, and, spurning her while she lay before the threshold, he opened + the door, sprang forward, and escaped. No thought had he of tarrying in + that House of Pelops, those human shambles, of denouncing Murder in its + lair; to fly to reach his master, warn, and shield him,—that was the + sole thought which crossed his confused, bewildered brain. + </p> + <p> + It might be from four to five minutes that Lucretia, half-stunned, + half-senseless, lay upon those floors,—for besides the violence of + her fall, the shock of the struggle upon nerves weakened by the agony of + apprehension, occasioned by the imminent and unforeseen chance of + detection, paralyzed her wondrous vigour of mind and frame,—when + Varney entered. + </p> + <p> + “They tell me she sleeps,” he said, in hoarse, muttered accents, before he + saw the prostrate form at his very feet. But Varney’s step, Varney’s + voice, had awakened Lucretia’s reason to consciousness and the sense of + peril. Rising, though with effort, she related hurriedly what had passed. + </p> + <p> + “Fly, fly!” she gasped, as she concluded. “Fly, to detain, to secrete, + this man somewhere for the next few hours. Silence him but till then; I + have done the rest!” and her finger pointed to the fatal ring. Varney + waited for no further words; he hurried out, and made at once to the + stables: his shrewdness conjectured that Beck would carry his tale + elsewhere. The groom was already gone (his fellows said) without a word, + but towards the lodge that led to the Southampton road. Varney ordered the + swiftest horse the stables held to be saddled, and said, as he sprang on + his back,— + </p> + <p> + “I, too, must go towards Southampton. The poor young lady! I must prepare + your master,—he is on his road back to us;” and the last word was + scarce out of his lips as the sparks flew from the flints under the + horse’s hoofs, and he spurred from the yard. + </p> + <p> + As he rode at full speed through the park, the villain’s mind sped more + rapidly than the animal he bestrode,—sped from fear to hope, hope to + assurance. Grant that the spy lived to tell his tale,—incoherent, + improbable as the tale would be,—who would believe it? How easy to + meet tale by tale! The man must own that he was secreted behind the + tapestry,—wherefore but to rob? Detected by Madame Dalibard, he had + coined this wretched fable. And the spy, too, could not live through the + day; he bore Death with him as he rode, he fed its force by his speed, and + the effects of the venom itself would be those of frenzy. Tush! his tale, + at best, would seem but the ravings of delirium. Still, it was well to + track him where he went,—delay him, if possible; and Varney’s spurs + plunged deep and deeper into the bleeding flanks: on desperately scoured + the horse. He passed the lodge; he was on the road; a chaise and pair + dashed by him; he heard not a voice exclaim “Varney!” he saw not the + wondering face of John Ardworth; bending over the tossing mane, he was + deaf, he was blind, to all without and around. A milestone glides by, + another, and a third. Ha! his eyes can see now. The object of his chase is + before him,—he views distinctly, on the brow of yon hill, the horse + and the rider, spurring fast, like himself. They descend the hill, horse + and horseman, and are snatched from his sight. Up the steep strains the + pursuer. He is at the summit. He sees the fugitive before him, almost + within hearing. Beck has slackened his steed; he seems swaying to and fro + in the saddle. Ho, ho! the barbed ring begins to work in his veins. Varney + looks round,—not another soul is in sight; a deep wood skirts the + road. Place and time seem to favour; Beck has reined in his horse,—he + bends low over the saddle, as if about to fall. Varney utters a + half-suppressed cry of triumph, shakes his reins, and spurs on, when + suddenly—by the curve of the road, hid before—another chaise + comes in sight, close where Beck had wearily halted. + </p> + <p> + The chaise stops; Varney pulls in, and draws aside to the hedgerow. Some + one within the vehicle is speaking to the fugitive! May it not be St. John + himself? To his rage and his terror, he sees Beck painfully dismount from + his horse, sees him totter to the door of the chaise, sees a servant leap + from the box and help him up the step, sees him enter. It must be Percival + on his return,—Percival, to whom he tells that story of horror! + Varney’s brute-like courage forsook him; his heart was appalled. In one of + those panics so common with that boldness which is but animal, his sole + thought became that of escape. He turned his horse’s head to the fence, + forced his way desperately through the barrier, made into the wood, and + sat there, cowering and listening, till in another minute he heard the + wheels rattle on, and the horses gallop hard down the hill towards the + park. + </p> + <p> + The autumn wind swept through the trees, it shook the branches of the + lofty ash that overhung the Accursed One. What observer of Nature knows + not that peculiar sound which the ash gives forth in the blast? Not the + solemn groan of the oak, not the hollow murmur of the beech, but a shrill + wail, a shriek as of a human voice in sharp anguish. Varney shuddered, as + if he had heard the death-cry of his intended victim. Through briers and + thickets, torn by the thorns, bruised by the boughs, he plunged deeper and + deeper into the wood, gained at length the main path cut through it, found + himself in a lane, and rode on, careless whither, till he had reached a + small town, about ten miles from Laughton, where he resolved to wait till + his nerves had recovered their tone, and he could more calmly calculate + the chances of safety. + </p> + <p> + <a name="Blink2HCH0037" id="Blink2HCH0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII. LUCRETIA REGAINS HER SON. + </h2> + <p> + It seemed as if now, when danger became most imminent and present, that + that very danger served to restore to Lucretia Dalibard her faculties, + which during the earlier day had been steeped in a kind of dreary stupor. + The absolute necessity of playing out her execrable part with all suitable + and consistent hypocrisy, braced her into iron. But the disguise she + assumed was a supernatural effort, it stretched to cracking every fibre of + the brain; it seemed almost to herself as if, her object once gained, + either life or consciousness could hold out no more. + </p> + <p> + A chaise stopped at the porch; two gentlemen descended. The elder paused + irresolutely, and at length, taking out a card, inscribed “Mr. Walter + Ardworth,” said, “If Madame Dalibard can be spoken to for a moment, will + you give her this card?” + </p> + <p> + The footman hesitatingly stared at the card, and then invited the + gentleman into the hall while he took up the message. Not long had the + visitor to wait, pacing the dark oak floors and gazing on the faded + banners, before the servant reappeared: Madame Dalibard would see him. He + followed his guide up the stairs, while his young companion turned from + the hall, and seated himself musingly on one of the benches on the + deserted terrace. + </p> + <p> + Grasping the arms of her chair with both hands, her eyes fixed eagerly on + his face, Lucretia Dalibard awaited the welcome visitor. + </p> + <p> + Prepared as he had been for change, Walter was startled by the ghastly + alteration in Lucretia’s features, increased as it was at that moment by + all the emotions which raged within. He sank into the chair placed for him + opposite Lucretia, and clearing his throat, said falteringly,— + </p> + <p> + “I grieve indeed, Madame, that my visit, intended to bring but joy, should + chance thus inopportunely. The servant informed me as we came up the + stairs that your niece was ill; and I sympathize with your natural + anxiety,—Susan’s only child, too; poor Susan!” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said Lucretia, impatiently, “these moments are precious. Sir, sir, + my son,—my son!” and her eyes glanced to the door. “You have brought + with you a companion,—does he wait without? My son!” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, give me a moment’s patience. I will be brief, and compress what + in other moments might be a long narrative into a few sentences.” + </p> + <p> + Rapidly then Walter Ardworth passed over the details, unnecessary now to + repeat to the reader,—the injunctions of Braddell, the delivery of + the child to the woman selected by his fellow-sectarian (who, it seemed, + by John Ardworth’s recent inquiries, was afterwards expelled the + community, and who, there was reason to believe, had been the first + seducer of the woman thus recommended). No clew to the child’s parentage + had been given to the woman with the sum intrusted for his maintenance, + which sum had perhaps been the main cause of her reckless progress to + infamy and ruin. The narrator passed lightly over the neglect and cruelty + of the nurse, to her abandonment of the child when the money was + exhausted. Fortunately she had overlooked the coral round its neck. By + that coral, and by the initials V. B., which Ardworth had had the + precaution to have burned into the child’s wrist, the lost son had been + discovered; the nurse herself (found in the person of Martha Skeggs, + Lucretia’s own servant) had been confronted with the woman to whom she + gave the child, and recognized at once. Nor had it been difficult to + obtain from her the confession which completed the evidence. + </p> + <p> + “In this discovery,” concluded Ardworth, “the person I employed met your + own agent, and the last links in the chain they traced together. But to + that person—to his zeal and intelligence—you owe the happiness + I trust to give you. He sympathized with me the more that he knew you + personally, felt for your sorrows, and had a lingering belief that you + supposed him to be the child you yearned for. Madame, thank my son for the + restoration of your own!” + </p> + <p> + Without sound, Lucretia had listened to these details, though her + countenance changed fearfully as the narrator proceeded. But now she + groaned aloud and in agony. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, Madame,” said Ardworth, feelingly, and in some surprise, “surely the + discovery of your son should create gladder emotions! Though, indeed, you + will be prepared to find that the poor youth so reared wants education and + refinement, I have heard enough to convince me that his dispositions are + good and his heart grateful. Judge of this yourself; he is in these walls, + he is—” + </p> + <p> + “Abandoned by a harlot,—reared by a beggar! My son!” interrupted + Lucretia, in broken sentences. “Well, sir, have you discharged your task! + Well have you replaced a mother!” Before Ardworth could reply, loud and + rapid steps were heard in the corridor, and a voice, cracked, indistinct, + but vehement. The door was thrown open, and, half-supported by Captain + Greville, half dragging him along, his features convulsed, whether by pain + or passion, the spy upon Lucretia’s secrets, the denouncer of her crime, + tottered to the threshold. Pointing to where she sat with his long, lean + arm, Beck exclaimed, “Seize her! I ‘cuse her, face to face, of the murder + of her niece,—of—of I told you, sir—I told you—” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said Captain Greville, “you stand charged by this witness with + the most terrible of human crimes. I judge you not. Your niece, I rejoice + to bear, yet lives. Pray God that her death be not traced to those kindred + hands!” Turning her eyes from one to the other with a wandering stare, + Lucretia Dalibard remained silent. But there was still scorn on her lip, + and defiance on her brow. At last she said slowly, and to Ardworth,— + </p> + <p> + “Where is my son? You say he is within these walls. Call him forth to + protect his mother! Give me at least my son,—my son!” + </p> + <p> + Her last words were drowned by a fresh burst of fury from her denouncer. + In all the coarsest invective his education could supply, in all the + hideous vulgarities of his untutored dialect, in that uncurbed + licentiousness of tone, look, and manner which passion, once aroused, + gives to the dregs and scum of the populace, Beck poured forth his + frightful charges, his frantic execrations. In vain Captain Greville + strove to check him; in vain Walter Ardworth sought to draw him from the + room. But while the poor wretch—maddening not more with the + consciousness of the crime than with the excitement of the poison in his + blood—thus raved and stormed, a terrible suspicion crossed Walter + Ardworth; mechanically,—as his grasp was on the accuser’s arm,—he + bared the sleeve, and on the wrist were the dark-blue letters burned into + the skin and bearing witness to his identity with the lost Vincent + Braddell. + </p> + <p> + “Hold, hold!” he exclaimed then; “hold, unhappy man!—it is your + mother whom you denounce!” + </p> + <p> + Lucretia sprang up erect; her eyes seemed starting from her head. She + caught at the arm pointed towards her in wrath and menace, and there, + amidst those letters that proclaimed her son, was the small puncture, + surrounded by a livid circle, that announced her victim. In the same + instant she discovered her child in the man who was calling down upon her + head the hatred of Earth and the justice of Heaven, and knew herself his + murderess! + </p> + <p> + She dropped the arm, and sank back on the chair; and whether the poison + had now reached to the vitals, or whether so unwonted a passion in so + frail a frame sufficed for the death-stroke, Beck himself, with a low, + suffocated cry, slid from the hand of Ardworth, and tottering a step or + so, the blood gushed from his mouth over Lucretia’s robe; his head drooped + an instant, and, falling, rested first upon her lap, then struck heavily + upon the floor. The two men bent over him and raised him in their arms; + his eyes opened and closed, his throat rattled, and as he fell back into + their arms a corpse, a laugh rose close at hand,—it rang through the + walls, it was heard near and afar, above and below; not an ear in that + house that heard it not. In that laugh fled forever, till the + Judgment-day, from the blackened ruins of her lost soul, the reason of the + murderess-mother. + </p> + <p> + <a name="Blink2HCH0038" id="Blink2HCH0038"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII. THE LOTS VANISH WITHIN THE URN. + </h2> + <p> + Varney’s self-commune restored to him his constitutional audacity. He + returned to Laughton towards the evening, and held a long conference with + Greville. Fortunately for him, perhaps, and happily for all, Helen had + lost all more dangerous symptoms; and the physician, who was in the house, + saw in her state nothing not easily to be accounted for by natural causes. + Percival had arrived, had seen Helen,—no wonder she was better! Both + from him and from Helen, Madame Dalibard’s fearful condition was for the + present concealed. Ardworth’s story, and the fact of Beck’s identity with + Vincent Braddell, were also reserved for a later occasion. The tale which + Beck had poured into the ear of Greville (when, recognizing the St. John + livery, the captain stopped his chaise to inquire if Percival were at the + Hall, and when thrilled by the hideous import of his broken reply, that + gentleman had caused him to enter the vehicle to explain himself further), + Varney, with his wonted art and address, contrived to strip of all + probable semblance. Evidently the poor lad had been already delirious; his + story must be deemed the nightmare of his disordered reason. Varney + insisted upon surgical examination as to the cause of his death. The + membranes of the brain were found surcharged with blood, as in cases of + great mental excitement; the slight puncture in the wrist, ascribed to the + prick of a rusty nail, provoked no suspicion. If some doubts remained + still in Greville’s acute mind, he was not eager to express, still less to + act upon them. Helen was declared to be out of danger; Percival was safe,—why + affix by minute inquiry into the alleged guilt of Madame Dalibard (already + so awfully affected by the death of her son and by the loss of her reason) + so foul a stain on the honoured family of St. John? But Greville was + naturally anxious to free the house as soon as possible both of Varney and + that ominous Lucretia, whose sojourn under its roof seemed accursed. He + therefore readily assented when Varney proposed, as his obvious and + personal duty, to take charge of his mother-in-law, and remove her to + London for immediate advice. + </p> + <p> + At the dead of the black-clouded night, no moon and no stars, the son of + Olivier Dalibard bore away the form of the once-formidable Lucretia,—the + form, for the mind was gone; that teeming, restless, and fertile + intellect, which had carried along the projects with the preterhuman + energies of the fiend, was hurled into night and chaos. Manacled and + bound, for at times her paroxysms were terrible, and all partook of the + destructive and murderous character which her faculties, when present, had + betrayed, she was placed in the vehicle by the shrinking side of her + accomplice. + </p> + <p> + Long before he arrived in London, Varney had got rid of his fearful + companion. His chaise had stopped at the iron gates of a large building + somewhat out of the main road, and the doors of the madhouse closed on + Lucretia Dalibard. + </p> + <p> + Varney then hastened to Dover, with intention of flight into France; he + was just about to step into the vessel, when he was tapped rudely on the + shoulder, and a determined voice said, “Mr. Gabriel Varney, you are my + prisoner!” + </p> + <p> + “For what? Some paltry debt?” said Varney, haughtily. + </p> + <p> + “For forgery on the Bank of England!” + </p> + <p> + Varney’s hand plunged into his vest. The officer seized it in time, and + wrested the blade from his grasp. Once arrested for an offence it was + impossible to disprove, although the very smallest of which his conscience + might charge him, Varney sank into the blackest despair. Though he had + often boasted, not only to others, but to his own vain breast, of the easy + courage with which, when life ceased to yield enjoyment, he could dismiss + it by the act of his own will; though he had possessed himself of + Lucretia’s murderous ring, and death, if fearful, was therefore at his + command,—self-destruction was the last thought that occurred to him; + that morbid excitability of fancy which, whether in his art or in his + deeds, had led him to strange delight in horror, now served but to haunt + him with the images of death in those ghastliest shapes familiar to them + who look only into the bottom of the charnel, and see but the rat and the + worm and the loathsome agencies of corruption. It was not the despair of + conscience that seized him, it was the abject clinging to life; not the + remorse of the soul,—that still slept within him, too noble an + agency for one so debased,—but the gross physical terror. As the + fear of the tiger, once aroused, is more paralyzing than that of the deer, + proportioned to the savageness of a disposition to which fear is a + novelty, so the very boldness of Varney, coming only from the perfection + of the nervous organization, and unsupported by one moral sentiment, once + struck down, was corrupted into the vilest cowardice. With his audacity, + his shrewdness forsook him. Advised by his lawyer to plead guilty, he + obeyed, and the sentence of transportation for life gave him at first a + feeling of reprieve; but when his imagination began to picture, in the + darkness of his cell, all the true tortures of that penalty,—not so + much, perhaps, to the uneducated peasant-felon, inured to toil, and + familiarized with coarse companionship, as to one pampered like himself by + all soft and half-womanly indulgences,—the shaven hair, the + convict’s dress, the rigorous privation, the drudging toil, the exile, + seemed as grim as the grave. In the dotage of faculties smitten into + drivelling, he wrote to the Home Office, offering to disclose secrets + connected with crimes that had hitherto escaped or baffled justice, on + condition that his sentence might be repealed, or mitigated into the + gentler forms of ordinary transportation. No answer was returned to him, + but his letter provoked research. Circumstances connected with his uncle’s + death, and with various other dark passages in his life, sealed against + him all hope of a more merciful sentence; and when some acquaintances, + whom his art had made for him, and who, while grieving for his crime, saw + in it some excuses (ignorant of his feller deeds), sought to intercede in + his behalf, the reply of the Home Office was obvious: “He is a fortunate + man to have been tried and condemned for his least offence.” Not one + indulgence that could distinguish him from the most execrable ruffian + condemned to the same sentence was conceded. + </p> + <p> + The idea of the gibbet lost all its horror. Here was a gibbet for every + hour. No hope,—no escape. Already that Future Doom which comprehends + the “Forever” opened upon him black and fathomless. The hour-glass was + broken up, the hand of the timepiece was arrested. The Beyond stretched + before him without limit, without goal,—on into Annihilation or into + Hell. + </p> + <p> + <a name="Blink2H_EPIL" id="Blink2H_EPIL"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EPILOGUE TO PART THE SECOND. + </h2> + <p> + Stand, O Man! upon the hill-top in the stillness of the evening hour, and + gaze, not with joyous, but with contented eyes, upon the beautiful world + around thee. See where the mists, soft and dim, rise over the green + meadows, through which the rivulet steals its way. See where, broadest and + stillest, the wave expands to the full smile of the setting sun, and the + willow that trembles on the breeze, and the oak that stands firm in the + storm, are reflected back, peaceful both, from the clear glass of the + tides. See where, begirt by the gold of the harvests, and backed by the + pomp of a thousand groves, the roofs of the town bask, noiseless, in the + calm glow of the sky. Not a sound from those abodes floats in discord to + thine ear; only from the church-tower, soaring high above the rest, + perhaps faintly heard through the stillness, swells the note of the holy + bell. Along the mead low skims the swallow,—on the wave the silver + circlet, breaking into spray, shows the sport of the fish. See the Earth, + how serene, though all eloquent of activity and life! See the Heavens, how + benign, though dark clouds, by yon mountain, blend the purple with the + gold! Gaze contented, for Good is around thee,—not joyous, for Evil + is the shadow of Good! Let thy soul pierce through the veil of the senses, + and thy sight plunge deeper than the surface which gives delight to thine + eye. Below the glass of that river, the pike darts on his prey; the circle + in the wave, the soft plash amongst the reeds, are but signs of Destroyer + and Victim. In the ivy round the oak by the margin, the owl hungers for + the night, which shall give its beak and its talons living food for its + young; and the spray of the willow trembles with the wing of the + redbreast, whose bright eye sees the worm on the sod. Canst thou count + too, O Man! all the cares, all the sins, that those noiseless rooftops + conceal? With every curl of that smoke to the sky, a human thought soars + as dark, a human hope melts as briefly. And the bell from the + church-tower, that to thy ear gives but music, perhaps knolls for the + dead. The swallow but chases the moth, and the cloud, that deepens the + glory of the heaven and the sweet shadows on the earth, nurses but the + thunder that shall rend the grove, and the storm that shall devastate the + harvests. Not with fear, not with doubt, recognize, O Mortal, the presence + of Evil in the world. [Not, indeed, that the evil here narrated is the + ordinary evil of the world,—the lesson it inculcates would be lost + if so construed,—but that the mystery of evil, whatever its degree, + only increases the necessity of faith in the vindication of the + contrivance which requires infinity for its range, and eternity for its + consummation. It is in the existence of evil that man finds his duties, + and his soul its progress.] Hush thy heart in the humbleness of awe, that + its mirror may reflect as serenely the shadow as the light. Vainly, for + its moral, dost thou gaze on the landscape, if thy soul puts no check on + the dull delight of the senses. Two wings only raise thee to the summit of + Truth, where the Cherub shall comfort the sorrow, where the Seraph shall + enlighten the joy. Dark as ebon spreads the one wing, white as snow gleams + the other,—mournful as thy reason when it descends into the deep; + exulting as thy faith when it springs to the day-star. + </p> + <p> + Beck sleeps in the churchyard of Laughton. He had lived to frustrate the + monstrous design intended to benefit himself, and to become the + instrument, while the victim, of the dread Eumenides. That done, his life + passed with the crimes that had gathered around, out of the sight of + mortals. Helen slowly regained her health in the atmosphere of love and + happiness; and Lady Mary soon learned to forget the fault of the father in + the virtues of the child. Married to Percival, Helen fulfilled the + destinies of woman’s genius, in calling forth into action man’s earnest + duties. She breathed into Percival’s warm, beneficent heart her own more + steadfast and divine intelligence. Like him she grew ambitious, by her he + became distinguished. While I write, fair children play under the cedars + of Laughton. And the husband tells the daughters to resemble their mother; + and the wife’s highest praise to the boys is: “You have spoken truth, or + done good, like your father.” + </p> + <p> + John Ardworth has not paused in his career, nor belied the promise of his + youth. Though the elder Ardworth, partly by his own exertions, partly by + his second marriage with the daughter of the French merchant (through + whose agency he had corresponded with Fielden), had realized a moderate + fortune, it but sufficed for his own wants and for the children of his + later nuptials, upon whom the bulk of it was settled. Hence, happily + perhaps for himself and others, the easy circumstances of his father + allowed to John Ardworth no exemption from labour. His success in the + single episode from active life to literature did not intoxicate or + mislead him. He knew that his real element was not in the field of + letters, but in the world of men. Not undervaluing the noble destinies of + the author, he felt that those destinies, if realized to the utmost, + demanded powers other than his own, and that man is only true to his + genius when the genius is at home in his career. He would not renounce for + a brief celebrity distant and solid fame. He continued for a few years in + patience and privation and confident self-reliance to drudge on, till the + occupation for the intellect fed by restraint, and the learning + accumulated by study, came and found the whole man developed and prepared. + Then he rose rapidly from step to step; then, still retaining his high + enthusiasm, he enlarged his sphere of action from the cold practice of law + into those vast social improvements which law, rightly regarded, should + lead and vivify and create. Then, and long before the twenty years he had + imposed on his probation had expired, he gazed again upon the senate and + the abbey, and saw the doors of the one open to his resolute tread, and + anticipated the glorious sepulchre which heart and brain should win him in + the other. John Ardworth has never married. When Percival rebukes him for + his celibacy, his lip quivers slightly, and he applies himself with more + dogged earnestness to his studies or his career. But he never complains + that his lot is lonely or his affections void. For him who aspires, and + for him who loves, life may lead through the thorns, but it never stops in + the desert. + </p> + <p> + On the minor personages involved in this history, there is little need to + dwell. Mr. Fielden, thanks to St. John, has obtained a much better living + in the rectory of Laughton, but has found new sources of pleasant trouble + for himself in seeking to drill into the mind of Percival’s eldest son the + elements of Euclid, and the principles of Latin syntax. + </p> + <p> + We may feel satisfied that the Miverses will go on much the same while + trade enriches without refining, and while, nevertheless, right feelings + in the common paths of duty may unite charitable emotions with graceless + language. + </p> + <p> + We may rest assured that the poor widow who had reared the lost son of + Lucretia received from the bounty of Percival all that could comfort her + for his death. + </p> + <p> + We have no need to track the dull crimes of Martha, or the quick, cunning + vices of Grabman, to their inevitable goals, in the hospital or the + prison, the dunghill or the gibbet. + </p> + <p> + Of the elder Ardworth our parting notice may be less brief. We first saw + him in sanguine and generous youth, with higher principles and clearer + insight into honour than William Mainwaring. We have seen him next a + spendthrift and a fugitive, his principles debased and his honour dimmed. + He presents to us no uncommon example of the corruption engendered by that + vulgar self-indulgence which mortgages the morrow for the pleasures of + to-day. No Deity presides where Prudence is absent. Man, a world in + himself, requires for the development of his faculties patience, and for + the balance of his actions, order. Even where he had deemed himself most + oppressively made the martyr,—namely, in the profession of mere + political opinions,—Walter Ardworth had but followed out into theory + the restless, uncalculating impatience which had brought adversity on his + manhood, and, despite his constitutional cheerfulness, shadowed his age + with remorse. The death of the child committed to his charge long (perhaps + to the last) embittered his pride in the son whom, without merit of his + own, Providence had spared to a brighter fate. But for the faults which + had banished him his country, and the habits which had seared his sense of + duty, could that child have been so abandoned, and have so perished? + </p> + <p> + It remains only to cast our glance over the punishments which befell the + sensual villany of Varney, the intellectual corruption of his fell + stepmother. + </p> + <p> + These two persons had made a very trade of those crimes to which man’s law + awards death. They had said in their hearts that they would dare the + crime, but elude the penalty. By wonderful subtlety, craft, and dexterity, + which reduced guilt to a science, Providence seemed, as in disdain of the + vulgar instruments of common retribution, to concede to them that which + they had schemed for,—escape from the rope and gibbet. Varney, saved + from detection of his darker and more inexpiable crimes, punished only for + the least one, retained what had seemed to him the master boon,—life. + Safer still from the law, no mortal eye had plumbed the profound night of + Lucretia’s awful guilt. Murderess of husband and son, the blinded law bade + her go unscathed, unsuspected. Direct, as from heaven, without a cloud, + fell the thunderbolt. Is the life they have saved worth the prizing? Doth + the chalice, unspilt on the ground, not return to the hand? Is the sudden + pang of the hangman more fearful than the doom which they breathe and + bear? Look, and judge. + </p> + <p> + Behold that dark ship on the waters! Its burdens are not of Ormus and + Tyre. No goodly merchandise doth it waft over the wave, no blessing + cleaves to its sails; freighted with terror and with guilt, with remorse + and despair, or, more ghastly than either, the sullen apathy of souls + hardened into stone, it carries the dregs and offal of the old world to + populate the new. On a bench in that ship sit side by side two men, + companions assigned to each other. Pale, abject, cowering, all the bravery + rent from his garb, all the gay insolence vanished from his brow,—can + that hollow-eyed, haggard wretch be the same man whose senses opened on + every joy, whose nerves mocked at every peril? But beside him, with a grin + of vile glee on his features, all muscle and brawn in the form, all + malice, at once spiteful and dull, in the heavy eye, sits his fit comrade, + the Gravestealer! At the first glance each had recognized each, and the + prophecy and the vision rushed back upon the daintier convict. If he seek + to escape from him, the Gravestealer claims him as a prey; he threatens + him with his eye as a slave; he kicks him with his hoof as they sit, and + laughs at the writhings of the pain. Carry on your gaze from the ship, + hear the cry from the masthead, see the land arise from the waste,—a + land without hope. At first, despite the rigour of the Home Office, the + education and intelligence of Varney have their price,—the sole + crime for which he is convicted is not of the darkest. He escapes from + that hideous comrade; he can teach as a schoolmaster,—let his brain + work, not his hands. But the most irredeemable of convicts are ever those + of nurture and birth and culture better than the ruffian rest. You may + enlighten the clod, but the meteor still must feed on the marsh; and the + pride and the vanity work where the crime itself seems to lose its + occasion. Ever avid, ever grasping, he falls, step by step, in the foul + sink, and the colony sees in Gabriel Varney its most pestilent rogue. + Arch-convict amidst convicts, doubly lost amongst the damned, they banish + him to the sternest of the penal settlements; they send him forth with the + vilest to break stones upon the roads. Shrivelled and bowed and old + prematurely, see that sharp face peering forth amongst that gang, scarcely + human, see him cringe to the lash of the scornful overseer, see the pairs + chained together, night and day! Ho, ho! his comrade hath found him again,—the + Artist and the Gravestealer leashed together! Conceive that fancy so + nurtured by habit, those tastes, so womanized by indulgence,—the one + suggesting the very horrors that are not; the other revolting at all toil + as a torture. + </p> + <p> + But intellect, not all gone, though hourly dying heavily down to the level + of the brute, yet schemes for delivery and escape. Let the plot ripen, and + the heart bound; break his chain, set him free, send him forth to the + wilderness. Hark, the whoop of the wild men! See those things that ape our + species dance and gibber round the famishing, hunted wretch. Hark, how he + shrieks at the torture! How they tear and they pinch and they burn and + they rend him! They, too, spare his life,—it is charmed. A Caliban + amidst Calibans, they heap him with their burdens, and feed him on their + offal. Let him live; he loved life for himself; he has cheated the gibbet,—LET + HIM LIVE! Let him watch, let him once more escape; all naked and mangled, + let him wander back to the huts of his gang. Lo, where he kneels, the foul + tears streaming down, and cries aloud: “I have broken all your laws, I + will tell you all my crimes; I ask but one sentence,—hang me up; let + me die!” And from the gang groan many voices: “Hang us up; let us die!” + The overseer turns on his heel, and Gabriel Varney again is chained to the + laughing Gravestealer. + </p> + <p> + You enter those gates so jealously guarded, you pass, with a quick beat of + the heart, by those groups on the lawn, though they are harmless; you + follow your guide through those passages; where the open doors will + permit, you see the emperor brandish his sceptre of straw, hear the + speculator counting his millions, sigh where the maiden sits smiling the + return of her shipwrecked lover, or gravely shake the head and hurry on + where the fanatic raves his Apocalypse, and reigns in judgment on the + world; you pass by strong gates into corridors gloomier and more remote. + Nearer and nearer you hear the yell and the oath and blaspheming curse; + you are in the heart of the madhouse, where they chain those at once + cureless and dangerous,—who have but sense enough left them to smite + and to throttle and to murder. Your guide opens that door, massive as a + wall; you see (as we, who narrate, have seen her) Lucretia Dalibard,—a + grisly, squalid, ferocious mockery of a human being, more appalling and + more fallen than Dante ever fabled in his spectres, than Swift ever + scoffed in his Yahoos! Only, where all other feature seems to have lost + its stamp of humanity, still burns with unquenchable fever the red, + devouring eye. That eye never seems to sleep, or in sleep, the lid never + closes over it. As you shrink from its light, it seems to you as if the + mind, that had lost coherence and harmony, still retained latent and + incommunicable consciousness as its curse. For days, for weeks, that awful + maniac will preserve obstinate, unbroken silence; but as the eye never + closes, so the hands never rest,—they open and grasp, as if at some + palpable object on which they close, vicelike, as a bird’s talons on its + prey; sometimes they wander over that brow, where the furrows seem torn as + the thunder scars, as if to wipe from it a stain, or charm from it a pang; + sometimes they gather up the hem of that sordid robe, and seem, for hours + together, striving to rub from it a soil. Then, out from prolonged + silence, without cause or warning, will ring, peal after peal (till the + frame, exhausted with the effort sinks senseless into stupor), the + frightful laugh. But speech, intelligible and coherent, those lips rarely + yield. There are times, indeed, when the attendants are persuaded that her + mind in part returns to her; and those times experience has taught them to + watch with peculiar caution. The crisis evinces itself by a change in the + manner,—by a quick apprehension of all that is said; by a straining, + anxious look at the dismal walls; by a soft, fawning docility; by murmured + complaints of the chains that fetter; and (though, as we have said, but + very rarely) by prayers, that seem rational, for greater ease and freedom. + </p> + <p> + In the earlier time of her dread captivity, perhaps when it was believed + at the asylum that she was a patient of condition, with friends who cared + for her state, and would liberally reward her cure, they in those moments + relaxed her confinement, and sought the gentler remedies their art + employs; but then invariably, and, it was said, with a cunning that + surpassed all the proverbial astuteness of the mad, she turned this + indulgence to the most deadly uses,—she crept to the pallet of some + adjacent sufferer weaker than herself, and the shrieks that brought the + attendants into the cell scarcely saved the intended victim from her + hands. It seemed, in those imperfectly lucid intervals, as if the reason + only returned to guide her to destroy,—only to animate the broken + mechanism into the beast of prey. + </p> + <p> + Years have now passed since her entrance within those walls. He who placed + her there never had returned. He had given a false name,—no clew to + him was obtained; the gold he had left was but the quarter’s pay. When + Varney had been first apprehended, Percival requested the younger Ardworth + to seek the forger in prison, and to question him as to Madame Dalibard; + but Varney was then so apprehensive that, even if still insane, her very + ravings might betray his share in her crimes, or still more, if she + recovered, that the remembrance of her son’s murder would awaken the + repentance and the confession of crushed despair, that the wretch had + judged it wiser to say that his accomplice was no more,—that her + insanity had already terminated in death. The place of her confinement + thus continued a secret locked in his own breast. Egotist to the last, she + was henceforth dead to him,—why not to the world? Thus the partner + of her crimes had cut off her sole resource, in the compassion of her + unconscious kindred; thus the gates of the living world were shut to her + evermore. Still, in a kind of compassion, or as an object of experiment,—as + a subject to be dealt with unscrupulously in that living dissection-hall,—her + grim jailers did not grudge her an asylum. But, year after year, the + attendance was more slovenly, the treatment more harsh; and strange to + say, while the features were scarcely recognizable, while the form + underwent all the change which the shape suffers when mind deserts it, + that prodigious vitality which belonged to the temperament still survived. + No signs of decay are yet visible. Death, as if spurning the carcass, + stands inexorably afar off. Baffler of man’s law, thou, too, hast escaped + with life! Not for thee is the sentence, “Blood for blood!” Thou livest, + thou mayst pass the extremest boundaries of age. Live on, to wipe the + blood from thy robe,—LIVE ON! + </p> + <p> + Not for the coarse object of creating an idle terror, not for the shock + upon the nerves and the thrill of the grosser interest which the narrative + of crime creates, has this book been compiled from the facts and materials + afforded to the author. When the great German poet describes, in not the + least noble of his lyrics, the sudden apparition of some “Monster Fate” in + the circles of careless Joy, he assigns to him who teaches the world, + through parable or song, the right to invoke the spectre. It is well to be + awakened at times from the easy commonplace that surrounds our habitual + life; to cast broad and steady and patient light on the darker secrets of + the heart,—on the vaults and caverns of the social state over which + we build the market-place and the palace. We recover from the dread and + the awe and the half-incredulous wonder, to set closer watch upon our + inner and hidden selves. In him who cultivates only the reason, and + suffers the heart and the spirit to lie waste and dead, who schemes and + constructs, and revolves round the axle of self, unwarmed by the + affections, unpoised by the attraction of right, lies the germ Fate might + ripen into the guilt of Olivier Dalibard. Let him who but lives through + the senses, spreads the wings of the fancy in the gaudy glare of enjoyment + corrupted, avid to seize, and impatient to toil, whose faculties are + curbed but to the range of physical perception, whose very courage is but + the strength of the nerves, who develops but the animal as he stifles the + man,—let him gaze on the villany of Varney, and startle to see some + magnified shadow of himself thrown dimly on the glass! Let those who, with + powers to command and passions to wing the powers, would sweep without + scruple from the aim to the end, who, trampling beneath their footprint of + iron the humanities that bloom up in their path, would march to success + with the proud stride of the destroyer, hear, in the laugh of yon maniac + murderess, the glee of the fiend they have wooed to their own souls! Guard + well, O Heir of Eternity, the portal of sin,—the thought! From the + thought to the deed, the subtler thy brain and the bolder thy courage, the + briefer and straighter is the way. Read these pages in disdain of + self-commune,—they shall revolt thee, not instruct; read them, + looking steadfastly within,—and how humble soever the art of the + narrator, the facts he narrates, like all history, shall teach by example. + Every human act, good or ill, is an angel to guide or to warn; and the + deeds of the worst have messages from Heaven to the listening hearts of + the best. Amidst the glens in the Apennine, in the lone wastes of + Calabria, the sign of the cross marks the spot where a deed of violence + has been done; on all that pass by the road, the symbol has varying + effect: sometimes it startles the conscience, sometimes it invokes the + devotion; the robber drops the blade, the priest counts the rosary. So is + it with the record of crime; and in the witness of Guilt, Man is thrilled + with the whisper of Religion. + </p> + <p> + Our acts our angels are, or good or ill, The fatal shadows that walk by us + still. FLETCHER. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s Lucretia, Complete, by Edward Bulwer-Lytton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LUCRETIA, COMPLETE *** + +***** This file should be named 7691-h.htm or 7691-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/6/9/7691/ + +Produced by Tapio Riikonen and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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