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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/9752.txt b/9752.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e6e16d7 --- /dev/null +++ b/9752.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5059 @@ +Project Gutenberg EBook, Night and Morning by E. B. Lytton, Vol. 3 +#192 in our series by Edward Bulwer Lytton + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**EBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These EBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers***** + + + +Title: Night and Morning, Volume 3 + +Author: Edward Bulwer Lytton + +Release Date: January 2006 [EBook #9752] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on October 9, 2003] + + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + + + + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, NIGHT AND MORNING, V3 *** + + + + +This eBook was produced by David Widger + + + +[See the latest corrected and updated text and html PG Editions + of the complete 5 volume set at: + https://www.gutenberg.org/files/9755/9755.txt + https://www.gutenberg.org/files/9755/9755-h/9755-h.htm] + + + + + + THE WORKS + + OF + + EDWARD BULWER LYTTON + + (LORD LYTTON) + + + NIGHT AND MORNING + + Book III + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + "The knight of arts and industry, + And his achievements fair." + THOMSON'S _Castle of Indolence: Explanatory Verse to Canto II._ + +In a popular and respectable, but not very fashionable quartier in Paris, +and in the tolerably broad and effective locale of the Rue ----, there +might be seen, at the time I now treat of, a curious-looking building, +that jutted out semicircularly from the neighbouring shops, with plaster +pilasters and compo ornaments. The _virtuosi_ of the _quartier_ had +discovered that the building was constructed in imitation of an ancient +temple in Rome; this erection, then fresh and new, reached only to the +_entresol_. The pilasters were painted light green and gilded in the +cornices, while, surmounting the architrave, were three little statues-- +one held a torch, another a bow, and a third a bag; they were therefore +rumoured, I know not with what justice, to be the artistical +representatives of Hymen, Cupid and Fortune. + +On the door was neatly engraved, on a brass plate, the following +inscription: + + "MONSIEUR LOVE, ANGLAIS, + A L'ENTRESOL." + +And if you had crossed the threshold and mounted the stairs, and gained +that mysterious story inhabited by Monsieur Love, you would have seen, +upon another door to the right, another epigraph, informing those +interested in the inquiry that the bureau, of M. Love was open daily from +nine in the morning to four in the afternoon. + +The office of M. Love--for office it was, and of a nature not +unfrequently designated in the "_petites affiches_" of Paris--had been +established about six months; and whether it was the popularity of the +profession, or the shape of the shop, or the manners of M. Love himself, +I cannot pretend to say, but certain it is that the Temple of Hymen--as +M. Love classically termed it--had become exceedingly in vogue in the +Faubourg St.--. It was rumoured that no less than nine marriages in the +immediate neighbourhood had been manufactured at this fortunate office, +and that they had all turned out happily except one, in which the bride +being sixty, and the bridegroom twenty-four, there had been rumours of +domestic dissension; but as the lady had been delivered,--I mean of her +husband, who had drowned himself in the Seine, about a month after the +ceremony, things had turned out in the long run better than might have +been expected, and the widow was so little discouraged; that she had been +seen to enter the office already--a circumstance that was greatly to the +credit of Mr. Love. + +Perhaps the secret of Mr. Love's success, and of the marked superiority +of his establishment in rank and popularity over similar ones, consisted +in the spirit and liberality with which the business was conducted. He +seemed resolved to destroy all formality between parties who might desire +to draw closer to each other, and he hit upon the lucky device of a +_table d'hote_, very well managed, and held twice a-week, and often +followed by a _soiree dansante_; so that, if they pleased, the aspirants +to matrimonial happiness might become acquainted without _gene_. As he +himself was a jolly, convivial fellow of much _savoir vivre_, it is +astonishing how well he made these entertainments answer. Persons who +had not seemed to take to each other in the first distant interview grew +extremely enamoured when the corks of the champagne--an extra of course +in the _abonnement_--bounced against the wall. Added to this, Mr. Love +took great pains to know the tradesmen in his neighbourhood; and, what +with his jokes, his appearance of easy circumstances, and the fluency +with which he spoke the language, he became a universal favourite. Many +persons who were uncommonly starched in general, and who professed to +ridicule the bureau, saw nothing improper in dining at the _table +d'hote_. To those who wished for secrecy he was said to be wonderfully +discreet; but there were others who did not affect to conceal their +discontent at the single state: for the rest, the entertainments were so +contrived as never to shock the delicacy, while they always forwarded the +suit. + +It was about eight o'clock in the evening, and Mr. Love was still seated +at dinner, or rather at dessert, with a party of guests. His apartments, +though small, were somewhat gaudily painted and furnished, and his +dining-room was decorated _a la Turque_. The party consisted-first, of a +rich _epicier_, a widower, Monsieur Goupille by name, an eminent man in +the Faubourg; he was in his grand climacteric, but still _belhomme_; wore +a very well-made _peruque_ of light auburn, with tight pantaloons, which +contained a pair of very respectable calves; and his white neckcloth and +his large gill were washed and got up with especial care. Next to +Monsieur Goupille sat a very demure and very spare young lady of about +two-and-thirty, who was said to have saved a fortune--Heaven knows how-- +in the family of a rich English _milord_, where she had officiated as +governess; she called herself Mademoiselle Adele de Courval, and was very +particular about the de, and very melancholy about her ancestors. +Monsieur Goupille generally put his finger through his _peruque_, and +fell away a little on his left pantaloon when he spoke to Mademoiselle de +Courval, and Mademoiselle de Courval generally pecked at her bouquet when +she answered Monsieur Goupille. On the other side of this young lady sat +a fine-looking fair man--M. Sovolofski, a Pole, buttoned up to the chin, +and rather threadbare, though uncommonly neat. He was flanked by a +little fat lady, who had been very pretty, and who kept a boarding-house, +or _pension_, for the English, she herself being English, though long +established in Paris. Rumour said she had been gay in her youth, and +dropped in Paris by a Russian nobleman, with a very pretty settlement, +she and the settlement having equally expanded by time and season: she was +called Madame Beavor. On the other side of the table was a red-headed +Englishman, who spoke very little French; who had been told that French +ladies were passionately fond of light hair; and who, having L2000. of +his own, intended to quadruple that sum by a prudent marriage. Nobody +knew what his family was, but his name was Higgins. His neighbour was an +exceedingly tall, large-boned Frenchman, with a long nose and a red +riband, who was much seen at Frascati's, and had served under Napoleon. +Then came another lady, extremely pretty, very _piquante_, and very gay, +but past the _premiere jeunesse_, who ogled Mr. Love more than she did +any of his guests: she was called Rosalie Caumartin, and was at the head +of a large _bon-bon_ establishment; married, but her husband had gone +four years ago to the Isle of France, and she was a little doubtful +whether she might not be justly entitled to the privileges of a widow. +Next to Mr. Love, in the place of honour, sat no less a person than the +Vicomte de Vaudemont, a French gentleman, really well-born, but whose +various excesses, added to his poverty, had not served to sustain that +respect for his birth which he considered due to it. He had already been +twice married; once to an Englishwoman, who had been decoyed by the +title; by this lady, who died in childbed, he had one son; a fact which +he sedulously concealed from the world of Paris by keeping the unhappy +boy--who was now some eighteen or nineteen years old--a perpetual exile +in England. Monsieur de Vaudemont did not wish to pass for more than +thirty, and he considered that to produce a son of eighteen would be to +make the lad a monster of ingratitude by giving the lie every hour to his +own father! In spite of this precaution the Vicomte found great +difficulty in getting a third wife--especially as he had no actual land +and visible income; was, not seamed, but ploughed up, with the small-pox; +small of stature, and was considered more than _un peu bete_. He was, +however, a prodigious dandy, and wore a lace frill and embroidered +waistcoat. Mr. Love's vis-a-vis was Mr. Birnie, an Englishman, a sort of +assistant in the establishment, with a hard, dry, parchment face, and a +remarkable talent for silence. The host himself was a splendid animal; +his vast chest seemed to occupy more space at the table than any four of +his guests, yet he was not corpulent or unwieldy; he was dressed in +black, wore a velvet stock very high, and four gold studs glittered in +his shirt-front; he was bald to the crown, which made his forehead appear +singularly lofty, and what hair he had left was a little greyish and +curled; his face was shaved smoothly, except a close-clipped mustache; +and his eyes, though small, were bright and piercing. Such was the +party. + +"These are the best _bon-bons_ I ever ate," said Mr. Love, glancing at +Madame Caumartin. "My fair friends, have compassion on the table of a +poor bachelor." + +"But you ought not to be a bachelor, Monsieur Lofe," replied the fair +Rosalie, with an arch look; "you who make others marry, should set the +example." + +"All in good time," answered Mr. Love, nodding; "one serves one's +customers to so much happiness that one has none left for one's self." + +Here a loud explosion was heard. Monsieur Goupille had pulled one of the +_bon-bon_ crackers with Mademoiselle Adele. + +"I've got the motto!--no--Monsieur has it: I'm always unlucky," said the +gentle Adele. + +The epicier solemnly unrolled the little slip of paper; the print was +very small, and he longed to take out his spectacles, but he thought that +would make him look old. However, he spelled through the motto with some +difficulty:-- + + "Comme elle fait soumettre un coeur, + En refusant son doux hommage, + On peut traiter la coquette en vainqueur; + De la beauty modeste on cherit l'esclavage." + + [The coquette, who subjugates a heart, yet refuses its tender + homage, one may treat as a conqueror: of modest beauty we cherish + the slavery.] + +"I present it to Mademoiselle," said he, laying the motto solemnly in +Adele's plate, upon a little mountain of chestnut-husks. + +"It is very pretty," said she, looking down. + +"It is very _a propos_," whispered the _epicier_, caressing the _peruque_ +a little too roughly in his emotion. Mr. Love gave him a kick under the +table, and put his finger to his own bald head, and then to his nose, +significantly. The intelligent _epicier_ smoothed back the irritated +_peruque_. + +"Are you fond of _bon-bons_, Mademoiselle Adele? I have a very fine +stock at home," said Monsieur Goupille. Mademoiselle Adele de Courval +sighed: "_Helas_! they remind me of happier days, when I was a _petite_ +and my dear grandmamma took me in her lap and told me how she escaped the +guillotine: she was an _emigree_, and you know her father was a marquis." + +The _epicier_ bowed and looked puzzled. He did not quite see the +connection between the _bon-bons_ and the guillotine. "You are _triste_, +Monsieur," observed Madame Beavor, in rather a piqued tone, to the Pole, +who had not said a word since the _roti_. + +"Madame, an exile is always _triste_: I think of my _pauvre pays_." + +"Bah!" cried Mr. Love. "Think that there is no exile by the side of a +_belle dame_." + +The Pole smiled mournfully. + +"Pull it," said Madame Beavor, holding a cracker to the patriot, and +turning away her face. + +"Yes, madame; I wish it were a cannon in defence of _La Pologne_." + +With this magniloquent aspiration, the gallant Sovolofski pulled lustily, +and then rubbed his fingers, with a little grimace, observing that +crackers were sometimes dangerous, and that the present combustible was +_d'une force immense_. + + "Helas! J'ai cru jusqu'a ce jour + Pouvoir triompher de l'amour," + + [Alas! I believed until to-day that I could triumph over love.] + +said Madame Beavor, reading the motto. "What do you say to that?" + +"Madame, there is no triumph for _La Pologne_!" Madame Beavor uttered a +little peevish exclamation, and glanced in despair at her red-headed +countryman. "Are you, too, a great politician, sir?" said she in +English. + +"No, mem!--I'm all for the ladies." + +"What does he say?" asked Madame Caumartin. + +"_Monsieur Higgins est tout pour les dames_." + +"To be sure he is," cried Mr. Love; "all the English are, especially with +that coloured hair; a lady who likes a passionate adorer should always +marry a man with gold-coloured hair--always. What do _you_ say, +Mademoiselle Adele?" + +"Oh, I like fair hair," said Mademoiselle, looking bashfully askew at +Monsieur Goupille's peruque. "Grandmamma said her papa--the marquis-- +used yellow powder: it must have been very pretty." + +"Rather _a la sucre d' orge_," remarked the _epicier_, smiling on the +right side of his mouth, where his best teeth were. Mademoiselle de +Courval looked displeased. "I fear you are a republican, Monsieur +Goupille." + +"I, Mademoiselle. No; I'm for the Restoration;" and again the _epicier_ +perplexed himself to discover the association of idea between +republicanism and _sucre d'orge_. + +"Another glass of wine. Come, another," said Mr. Love, stretching across +the Vicomte to help Madame Canmartin. + +"Sir," said the tall Frenchman with the riband, eying the _epicier_ with +great disdain, "you say you are for the Restoration--I am for the Empire +--_Moi_!" + +"No politics!" cried Mr. Love. "Let us adjourn to the salon." + +The Vicomte, who had seemed supremely _ennuye_ during this dialogue, +plucked Mr. Love by the sleeve as he rose, and whispered petulantly, +"I do not see any one here to suit me, Monsieur Love--none of my rank." + +"_Mon Dieu!_" answered Mr. Love: "_point d' argent point de Suisse_. I +could introduce you to a duchess, but then the fee is high. There's +Mademoiselle de Courval--she dates from the Carlovingians." + +"She is very like a boiled sole," answered the Vicomte, with a wry face. +"Still-what dower _has_ she?" + +"Forty thousand francs, and sickly," replied Mr. Love; "but she likes a +tall man, and Monsieur Goupille is--" + +"Tall men are never well made," interrupted the Vicomte, angrily; and he +drew himself aside as Mr. Love, gallantly advancing, gave his arm to +Madame Beavor, because the Pole had, in rising, folded both his own arms +across his breast. + +"Excuse me, ma'am," said Mr. Love to Madame Beavor, as they adjourned to +the salon, "I don't think you manage that brave man well." + +"_Ma foi, comme il est ennuyeux avec sa Pologne_," replied Madame Beavor, +shrugging her shoulders. + +"True; but he is a very fine-shaped man; and it is a comfort to think +that one will have no rival but his country. Trust me, and encourage him +a little more; I think he would suit you to a T." + +Here the attendant engaged for the evening announced Monsieur and Madame +Giraud; whereupon there entered a little--little couple, very fair, very +plump, and very like each other. This was Mr. Love's show couple--his +decoy ducks--his last best example of match-making; they had been married +two months out of the bureau, and were the admiration of the +neighbourhood for their conjugal affection. As they were now united, +they had ceased to frequent the table d'hote; but Mr. Love often invited +them after the dessert, _pour encourager les autres_. + +"My dear friends," cried Mr. Love, shaking each by the hand, "I am +ravished to see you. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Monsieur and +Madame Giraud. the happiest couple in Christendom;--if I had done +nothing else in my life but bring them together I should not have lived +in vain!" + +The company eyed the objects of this eulogium with great attention. + +"Monsieur, my prayer is to deserve my _bonheur_," said Monsieur Giraud. + +"_Cher ange_!" murmured Madame: and the happy pair seated themselves +next to each other. + +Mr. Love, who was all for those innocent pastimes which do away with +conventional formality and reserve, now proposed a game at "Hunt the +Slipper," which was welcomed by the whole party, except the Pole and the +Vicomte; though Mademoiselle Adele looked prudish, and observed to the +_epicier_, "that Monsieur Lofe was so droll, but she should not have +liked her _pauvre grandmaman_ to see her." + +The Vicomte had stationed himself opposite to Mademoiselle de Courval, +and kept his eyes fixed on her very tenderly. + +"Mademoiselle, I see, does not approve of such _bourgeois_ diversions," +said he. + +"No, monsieur," said the gentle Adele. "But I think we must sacrifice +our own tastes to those of the company." + +"It is a very amiable sentiment," said the _epicier_. + +"It is one attributed to grandmamma's papa, the Marquis de Courval. It +has become quite a hackneyed remark since," said Adele. + +"Come, ladies," said the joyous Rosalie; "I volunteer my slipper." + +"_Asseyez-vous donc_," said Madame Beavor to the Pole. Have you no games +of this sort in Poland?" + +"Madame, _La Pologne_ is no more," said the Pole. "But with the swords +of her brave--" + +"No swords here, if you please," said Mr. Love, putting his vast hands on +the Pole's shoulder, and sinking him forcibly down into the circle now +formed. + +The game proceeded with great vigour and much laughter from Rosalie, Mr. +Love, and Madame Beavor, especially whenever the last thumped the Pole +with the heel of the slipper. Monsieur Giraud was always sure that +Madame Giraud had the slipper about her, which persuasion on his part +gave rise to many little endearments, which are always so innocent among +married people. The Vicomte and the _epicier_ were equally certain the +slipper was with Mademoiselle Adele, who defended herself with much more +energy than might have been supposed in one so gentle. The _epicier_, +however, grew jealous of the attentions of his noble rival, and told him +that he _gene'_d mademoiselle; whereupon the Vicomte called him an +_impertinent_; and the tall Frenchman, with the riband, sprang up and +said: + +"Can I be of any assistance, gentlemen?" + +Therewith Mr. Love, the great peacemaker, interposed, and reconciling the +rivals, proposed to change the game to _Colin Maillard-Anglice_, "Blind +Man's Buff." Rosalie clapped her hands, and offered herself to be +blindfolded. The tables and chairs were cleared away; and Madame Beaver +pushed the Pole into Rosalie's arms, who, having felt him about the face +for some moments, guessed him to be the tall Frenchman. During this time +Monsieur and Madame Giraud hid themselves behind the window-curtain. + +"Amuse yourself, men ami," said Madame Beaver, to the liberated Pole. + +"Ah, madame," sighed Monsieur Sovolofski, "how can I be gay! All my +property confiscated by the Emperor of Russia! Has _La Pologne_ no +Brutus?" + +"I think you are in love," said the host, clapping him on the back. + +"Are you quite sure," whispered the Pole to the matchmaker, that Madame +Beavor has _vingt mille livres de rentes_?" + +"Not a _sous_ less." + +The Pole mused, and, glancing at Madame Beavor, said, "And yet, madame, +your charming gaiety consoles me amidst all my suffering;" upon which +Madame Beavor called him "flatterer," and rapped his knuckles with her +fan; the latter proceeding the brave Pole did not seem to like, for he +immediately buried his hands in his trousers' pockets. + +The game was now at its meridian. Rosalie was uncommonly active, and +flew about here and there, much to the harassment of the Pole, who +repeatedly wiped his forehead, and observed that it was warm work, and +put him in mind of the last sad battle for _La Pologne_. Monsieur +Goupille, who had lately taken lessons in dancing, and was vain of his +agility--mounted the chairs and tables, as Rosalie approached--with +great grace and gravity. It so happened that, in these saltations, he +ascended a stool near the curtain behind which Monsieur and Madame Giraud +were ensconced. Somewhat agitated by a slight flutter behind the folds, +which made him fancy, on the sudden panic, that Rosalie was creeping that +way, the _epicier_ made an abrupt pirouette, and the hook on which the +curtains were suspended caught his left coat-tail, + + "The fatal vesture left the unguarded side;" + +just as he turned to extricate the garment from that dilemma, Rosalie +sprang upon him, and naturally lifting her hands to that height where she +fancied the human face divine, took another extremity of Monsieur +Goupille's graceful frame thus exposed, by surprise. + +"I don't know who this is. _Quelle drole de visage_!" muttered Rosalie. + +"_Mais_, madame," faltered Monsieur Goupille, looking greatly +disconcerted. + +The gentle Adele, who did not seem to relish this adventure, came to the +relief of her wooer, and pinched Rosalie very sharply in the arm. + +"That's not fair. But I will know who this is," cried Rosalie, angrily; +"you sha'n't escape!" + +A sudden and universal burst of laughter roused her suspicions--she drew +back--and exclaiming, "_Mais quelle mauvaise plaisanterie; c'est trop +fort_!" applied her fair hand to the place in dispute, with so hearty a +good-will, that Monsieur Goupille uttered a dolorous cry, and sprang from +the chair leaving the coat-tail (the cause of all his woe) suspended upon +the hook. + +It was just at this moment, and in the midst of the excitement caused by +Monsieur Goupille's misfortune, that the door opened, and the attendant +reappeared, followed by a young man in a large cloak. + +The new-comer paused at the threshold, and gazed around him in evident +surprise. + +"Diable!" said Mr. Love, approaching, and gazing hard at the stranger. +"Is it possible?--You are come at last? Welcome!" + +"But," said the stranger, apparently still bewildered, "there is some +mistake; you are not--" + +"Yes, I am Mr. Love!--Love all the world over. How is our friend Gregg? +--told you to address yourself to Mr. Love,--eh?--Mum!--Ladies and +gentlemen, an acquisition to our party. Fine fellow, eh?--Five feet +eleven without his shoes,--and young enough to hope to be thrice married +before he dies. When did you arrive?" + +"To-day." + +And thus, Philip Morton and Mr. William Gawtrey met once more. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +"Happy the man who, void of care and strife, +In silken or in leathern purse retains +A splendid shilling !"--The Splendid Shilling. + +"And wherefore should they take or care for thought, +The unreasoning vulgar willingly obey, +And leaving toil and poverty behind. +Run forth by different ways, the blissful boon to find." +WEST'S _Education_. + +"Poor, boy! your story interests me. The events are romantic, but the +moral is practical, old, everlasting--life, boy, life. Poverty by itself +is no such great curse; that is, if it stops short of starving. And +passion by itself is a noble thing, sir; but poverty and passion +together--poverty and feeling--poverty and pride--the poverty one is not +born to,--but falls into;--and the man who ousts you out of your +easy-chair, kicking you with every turn he takes, as he settles himself +more comfortably--why there's no romance in that--hard every-day life, +sir! Well, well:--so after your brother's letter you resigned yourself +to that fellow Smith." + +"No; I gave him my money, not my soul. I turned from his door, with a +few shillings that he himself thrust into my hand, and walked on--I cared +not whither--out of the town, into the fields--till night came; and then, +just as I suddenly entered on the high-road, many miles away, the moon +rose; and I saw, by the hedge-side, something that seemed like a corpse; +it was an old beggar, in the last state of raggedness, disease, and +famine. He had laid himself down to die. I shared with him what I had, +and helped him to a little inn. As he crossed the threshold, he turned +round and blessed me. Do you know, the moment I heard that blessing a +stone seemed rolled away from my heart? I said to myself, 'What then! +even I can be of use to some one; and I am better off than that old man, +for I have youth and health.' As these thoughts stirred in me, my limbs, +before heavy with fatigue, grew light; a strange kind of excitement +seized me. I ran on gaily beneath the moonlight that smiled over the +crisp, broad road. I felt as if no house, not even a palace, were large +enough for me that night. And when, at last, wearied out, I crept into a +wood, and laid myself down to sleep, I still murmured to myself, 'I have +youth and health.' But, in the morning, when I rose, I stretched out my +arms, and missed my brother! . . . In two or three days I found +employment with a farmer; but we quarrelled after a few weeks; for once +he wished to strike me; and somehow or other I could work, but not serve. +Winter had begun when we parted.--Oh, such a winter!--Then--then I knew +what it was to be houseless. How I lived for some months--if to live it +can be called--it would pain you to hear, and humble me to tell. At +last, I found myself again in London; and one evening, not many days +since, I resolved at last--for nothing else seemed left, and I had not +touched food for two days--to come to you." + +"And why did that never occur to you before?"! + +"Because," said Philip, with a deep blush,--"because I trembled at the +power over my actions and my future life that I was to give to one, whom +I was to bless as a benefactor, yet distrust as a guide." + +"Well," said Love, or Gawtrey, with a singular mixture of irony and +compassion in his voice; "and it was hunger, then, that terrified you at +last even more than I?" + +"Perhaps hunger--or perhaps rather the reasoning that comes from hunger. +I had not, I say, touched food for two days; and I was standing on that +bridge, from which on one side you see the palace of a head of the +Church, on the other the towers of the Abbey, within which the men I have +read of in history lie buried. It was a cold, frosty evening, and the +river below looked bright with the lamps and stars. I leaned, weak and +sickening, against the wall of the bridge; and in one of the arched +recesses beside me a cripple held out his hat for pence. I envied him!-- +he had a livelihood; he was inured to it, perhaps bred to it; he had no +shame. By a sudden impulse, I, too, turned abruptly round--held out my +hand to the first passenger, and started at the shrillness of my own +voice, as it cried 'Charity.'" + +Gawtrey threw another log on the fire, looked complacently round the +comfortable room, and rubbed his hands. The young man continued,-- + +"'You should be ashamed of yourself--I've a great mind to give you to the +police,' was the answer, in a pert and sharp tone. I looked up, and saw +the livery my father's menials had worn. I had been begging my bread +from Robert Beaufort's lackey! I said nothing; the man went on his +business on tiptoe, that the mud might not splash above the soles of his +shoes. Then, thoughts so black that they seemed to blot out every star +from the sky--thoughts I had often wrestled against, but to which I now +gave myself up with a sort of mad joy--seized me: and I remembered you. +I had still preserved the address you gave me; I went straight to the +house. Your friend, on naming you, received me kindly, and without +question placed food before me--pressed on me clothing and money-- +procured me a passport--gave me your address--and now I am beneath your +roof. Gawtrey, I know nothing yet of the world but the dark side of it. +I know not what to deem you--but as you alone have been kind to me, so it +is to your kindness rather than your aid, that I now cling--your kind +words and kind looks-yet--" he stopped short, and breathed hard. + +"Yet you would know more of me. Faith, my boy, I cannot tell you more at +this moment. I believe, to speak fairly, I don't live exactly within the +pale of the law. But I'm not a villain! I never plundered my friend and +called it play!--I never murdered my friend and called it honour!--I +never seduced my friend's wife and called it gallantry!" As Gawtrey said +this, he drew the words out, one by one, through his grinded teeth, +paused and resumed more gaily: "I struggle with Fortune; _voila tout_! +I am not what you seem to suppose--not exactly a swindler, certainly not +a robber! But, as I before told you, I am a charlatan, so is every man +who strives to be richer or greater than he is. + +"I, too, want kindness as much as you do. My bread and my cup are at your +service. I will try and keep you unsullied, even by the clean dirt that +now and then sticks to me. On the other hand, youth, my young friend, +has no right to play the censor; and you must take me as you take the +world, without being over-scrupulous and dainty. My present vocation +pays well; in fact, I am beginning to lay by. My real name and past life +are thoroughly unknown, and as yet unsuspected, in this quartier; for +though I have seen much of Paris, my career hitherto has passed in other +parts of the city;--and for the rest, own that I am well disguised! What +a benevolent air this bald forehead gives me--eh? True," added Gawtrey, +somewhat more seriously," if I saw how you could support yourself in a +broader path of life than that in which I pick out my own way, I might +say to you, as a gay man of fashion might say to some sober stripling-- +nay, as many a dissolute father says (or ought to say) to his son, 'It is +no reason you should be a sinner, because I am not a saint.' In a word, +if you were well off in a respectable profession, you might have safer +acquaintances than myself. But, as it is, upon my word as a plain man, +I don't see what you can do better." Gawtrey made this speech with so +much frankness and ease, that it seemed greatly to relieve the listener, +and when he wound up with, "What say you? In fine, my life is that of a +great schoolboy, getting into scrapes for the fun of it, and fighting his +way out as he best can!--Will you see how you like it?" Philip, with a +confiding and grateful impulse, put his hand into Gawtrey's. The host +shook it cordially, and, without saying another word, showed his guest +into a little cabinet where there was a sofa-bed, and they parted for the +night. The new life upon which Philip Morton entered was so odd, so +grotesque, and so amusing, that at his age it was, perhaps, natural that +he should not be clear-sighted as to its danger. + +William Gawtrey was one of those men who are born to exert a certain +influence and ascendency wherever they may be thrown; his vast strength, +his redundant health, had a power of themselves--a moral as well as +physical power. He naturally possessed high animal spirits, beneath the +surface of which, however, at times, there was visible a certain +undercurrent of malignity and scorn. He had evidently received a +superior education, and could command at will the manner of a man not +unfamiliar with a politer class of society. From the first hour that +Philip had seen him on the top of the coach on the R---- road, this man +had attracted his curiosity and interest; the conversation he had heard +in the churchyard, the obligations he owed to Gawtrey in his escape from +the officers of justice, the time afterwards passed in his society till +they separated at the little inn, the rough and hearty kindliness Gawtrey +had shown him at that period, and the hospitality extended to him now,-- +all contributed to excite his fancy, and in much, indeed very much, +entitled this singular person to his gratitude. Morton, in a word, was +fascinated; this man was the only friend he had made. I have not thought +it necessary to detail to the reader the conversations that had taken +place between them, during that passage of Morton's life when he was +before for some days Gawtrey's companion; yet those conversations had +sunk deep in his mind. He was struck, and almost awed, by the profound +gloom which lurked under Gawtrey's broad humour--a gloom, not of +temperament, but of knowledge. His views of life, of human justice and +human virtue, were (as, to be sure, is commonly the case with men who +have had reason to quarrel with the world) dreary and despairing; and +Morton's own experience had been so sad, that these opinions were more +influential than they could ever have been with the happy. However in +this, their second reunion, there was a greater gaiety than in their +first; and under his host's roof Morton insensibly, but rapidly, +recovered something of the early and natural tone of his impetuous and +ardent spirits. Gawtrey himself was generally a boon companion; their +society, if not select, was merry. When their evenings were disengaged, +Gawtrey was fond of haunting cafes and theatres, and Morton was his +companion; Birnie (Mr. Gawtrey's partner) never accompanied them. +Refreshed by this change of life, the very person of this young man +regained its bloom and vigour, as a plant, removed from some choked +atmosphere and unwholesome soil, where it had struggled for light and +air, expands on transplanting; the graceful leaves burst from the long- +drooping boughs, and the elastic crest springs upward to the sun in the +glory of its young prime. If there was still a certain fiery sternness +in his aspect, it had ceased, at least, to be haggard and savage, it even +suited the character of his dark and expressive features. He might not +have lost the something of the tiger in his fierce temper, but in the +sleek hues and the sinewy symmetry of the frame he began to put forth +also something of the tiger's beauty. + +Mr. Birnie did not sleep in the house, he went home nightly to a lodging +at some little distance. We have said but little about this man, for, to +all appearance, there was little enough to say; he rarely opened his own +mouth except to Gawtrey, with whom Philip often observed him engaged in +whispered conferences, to which he was not admitted. His eye, however, +was less idle than his lips; it was not a bright eye: on the contrary, it +was dull, and, to the unobservant, lifeless, of a pale blue, with a dim +film over it--the eye of a vulture; but it had in it a calm, heavy, +stealthy watchfulness, which inspired Morton with great distrust and +aversion. Mr. Birnie not only spoke French like a native, but all his +habits, his gestures, his tricks of manner, were, French; not the French +of good society, but more idiomatic, as it were, and popular. He was not +exactly a vulgar person, he was too silent for that, but he was evidently +of low extraction and coarse breeding; his accomplishments were of a +mechanical nature; he was an extraordinary arithmetician, he was a very +skilful chemist, and kept a laboratory at his lodgings--he mended his own +clothes and linen with incomparable neatness. Philip suspected him of +blacking his own shoes, but that was prejudice. Once he found Morton +sketching horses' heads--_pour se desennuyer_; and he made some short +criticisms on the drawings, which showed him well acquainted with the +art. Philip, surprised, sought to draw him into conversation; but Birnie +eluded the attempt, and observed that he had once been an engraver. + +Gawtrey himself did not seem to know much of the early life of this +person, or at least he did not seem to like much to talk of him. The +footstep of Mr. Birnie was gliding, noiseless, and catlike; he had no +sociality in him--enjoyed nothing--drank hard--but was never drunk. +Somehow or other, he had evidently over Gawtrey an influence little less +than that which Gawtrey had over Morton, but it was of a different +nature: Morton had conceived an extraordinary affection for his friend, +while Gawtrey seemed secretly to dislike Birnie, and to be glad whenever +he quitted his presence. It was, in truth, Gawtrey's custom when Birnie +retired for the night, to rub his hands, bring out the punchbowl, squeeze +the lemons, and while Philip, stretched on the sofa, listened to him, +between sleep and waking, to talk on for the hour together, often till +daybreak, with that bizarre mixture of knavery and feeling, drollery and +sentiment, which made the dangerous charm of his society. + +One evening as they thus sat together, Morton, after listening for some +time to his companion's comments on men and things, said abruptly,-- + +"Gawtrey! there is so much in you that puzzles me, so much which I find +it difficult to reconcile with your present pursuits, that, if I ask no +indiscreet confidence, I should like greatly to hear some account of your +early life. It would please me to compare it with my own; when I am +your age, I will then look back and see what I owed to your example." + +"My early life! well--you shall hear it. It will put you on your guard, +I hope, betimes against the two rocks of youth--love and friendship." +Then, while squeezing the lemon into his favourite beverage, which Morton +observed he made stronger than usual, Gawtrey thus commenced: + + + THE HISTORY OF A GOOD-FOR-NOTHING. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + "All his success must on himself depend, + He had no money, counsel, guide, or friend; + With spirit high John learned the world to brave, + And in both senses was a ready knave."--CRABBE. + +"My grandfather sold walking-sticks and umbrellas in the little passage +by Exeter 'Change; he was a man of genius and speculation. As soon as he +had scraped together a little money, he lent it to some poor devil with a +hard landlord, at twenty per cent., and made him take half the loan in +umbrellas or bamboos. By these means he got his foot into the ladder, +and climbed upward and upward, till, at the age of forty, he had amassed +L5,000. He then looked about for a wife. An honest trader in the +Strand, who dealt largely in cotton prints, possessed an only daughter; +this young lady had a legacy, from a great-aunt, of L3,220., with a small +street in St. Giles's, where the tenants paid weekly (all thieves or +rogues-all, so their rents were sure). Now my grandfather conceived a +great friendship for the father of this young lady; gave him a hint as to +a new pattern in spotted cottons; enticed him to take out a patent, and +lent him L700. for the speculation; applied for the money at the very +moment cottons were at their worst, and got the daughter instead of the +money,--by which exchange, you see, he won L2,520., to say nothing of the +young lady. My grandfather then entered into partnership with the worthy +trader, carried on the patent with spirit, and begat two sons. As he +grew older, ambition seized him; his sons should be gentlemen--one was +sent to College, the other put into a marching regiment. My grandfather +meant to die worth a plum; but a fever he caught in visiting his tenants +in St. Giles's prevented him, and he only left L20,000. equally divided +between the sons. My father, the College man" (here Gawtrey paused a +moment, took a large draught of the punch, and resumed with a visible +effort)--"my father, the College man, was a person of rigid principles-- +bore an excellent character--had a great regard for the world. He +married early and respectably. I am the sole fruit of that union; he +lived soberly, his temper was harsh and morose, his home gloomy; he was a +very severe father, and my mother died before I was ten years old. When +I was fourteen, a little old Frenchman came to lodge with us; he had been +persecuted under the old _regime_ for being a philosopher; he filled my +head with odd crotchets which, more or less, have stuck there ever since. +At eighteen I was sent to St. John's College, Cambridge. My father was +rich enough to have let me go up in the higher rank of a pensioner, but +he had lately grown avaricious; he thought that I was extravagant; he +made me a sizar, perhaps to spite me. Then, for the first time, those +inequalities in life which the Frenchman had dinned into my ears met me +practically. A sizar! another name for a dog! I had such strength, +health, and spirits, that I had more life in my little finger than half +the fellow-commoners--genteel, spindle-shanked striplings, who might have +passed for a collection of my grandfather's walking-canes--bad in their +whole bodies. And I often think," continued Gawtrey, "that health and +spirits have a great deal to answer for! When we are young we so far +resemble savages who are Nature's young people--that we attach prodigious +value to physical advantages. My feats of strength and activity--the +clods I thrashed--and the railings I leaped--and the boat-races I won-- +are they not written in the chronicle of St. John's? These achievements +inspired me with an extravagant sense of my own superiority; I could not +but despise the rich fellows whom I could have blown down with a sneeze. +Nevertheless, there was an impassable barrier between me and them--a +sizar was not a proper associate for the favourites of fortune! But +there was one young man, a year younger myself, of high birth, and the +heir to considerable wealth, who did not regard me with the same +supercilious insolence as the rest; his very rank, perhaps, made him +indifferent to the little conventional formalities which influence +persons who cannot play at football with this round world; he was the +wildest youngster in the university--lamp-breaker--tandem-driver--mob- +fighter--a very devil in short--clever, but not in the reading line-- +small and slight, but brave as a lion. Congenial habits made us +intimate, and I loved him like a brother--better than a brother--as a dog +loves his master. In all our rows I covered him with my body. He had +but to say to me, 'Leap into the water,' and I would not have stopped to +pull off my coat. In short, I loved him as a proud man loves one who +stands betwixt him and contempt,--as an affectionate man loves one who +stands between him and solitude. To cut short a long story: my friend, +one dark night, committed an outrage against discipline, of the most +unpardonable character. There was a sanctimonious, grave old fellow of +the College, crawling home from a tea-party; my friend and another of his +set seized, blindfolded, and handcuffed this poor wretch, carried him, +_vi et armis_, back to the house of an old maid whom he had been courting +for the last ten years, fastened his pigtail (he wore a long one) to the +knocker, and so left him. You may imagine the infernal hubbub which his +attempts to extricate himself caused in the whole street; the old maid's +old maidservant, after emptying on his head all the vessels of wrath she +could lay her hand to, screamed, 'Rape and murder!' The proctor and his +bull-dogs came up, released the prisoner, and gave chase to the +delinquents, who had incautiously remained near to enjoy the sport. The +night was dark and they reached the College in safety, but they had been +tracked to the gates. For this offence I was expelled." + +"Why, you were not concerned in it?" said Philip. + +"No; but I was suspected and accused. I could have got off by betraying +the true culprits, but my friend's father was in public life--a stern, +haughty old statesman; my friend was mortally afraid of him--the only +person he was afraid of. If I had too much insisted on my innocence, I +might have set inquiry on the right track. In fine, I was happy to prove +my friendship for him. He shook me most tenderly by the hand on parting, +and promised never to forget my generous devotion. I went home in +disgrace: I need not tell you what my father said to me: I do not think +he ever loved me from that hour. Shortly after this my uncle, George +Gawtrey, the captain, returned from abroad; he took a great fancy to me, +and I left my father's house (which had grown insufferable) to live with +him. He had been a very handsome man--a gay spendthrift; he had got +through his fortune, and now lived on his wits--he was a professed +gambler. His easy temper, his lively humour, fascinated me; he knew the +world well; and, like all gamblers, was generous when the dice were +lucky,--which, to tell you the truth, they generally were, with a man who +had no scruples. Though his practices were a little suspected, they had +never been discovered. We lived in an elegant apartment, mixed +familiarly with men of various ranks, and enjoyed life extremely. I +brushed off my college rust, and conceived a taste for expense: I knew +not why it was, but in my new existence every one was kind to me; and I +had spirits that made me welcome everywhere. I was a scamp--but a +frolicsome scamp--and that is always a popular character. As yet I was +not dishonest, but saw dishonesty round me, and it seemed a very +pleasant, jolly mode of making money; and now I again fell into contact +with the young heir. My college friend was as wild in London as he had +been at Cambridge; but the boy-ruffian, though not then twenty years of +age, had grown into the man-villain." + +Here Gawtrey paused, and frowned darkly. + +"He had great natural parts, this young man-much wit, readiness, and +cunning, and he became very intimate with my uncle. He learned of him +how to play the dice, and a pack the cards--he paid him L1,000. for the +knowledge!" + +"How! a cheat? You said he was rich." + +"His father was very rich, and he had a liberal allowance, but he was +very extravagant; and rich men love gain as well as poor men do! He had +no excuse but the grand excuse of all vice--SELFISHNESS. Young as he was +he became the fashion, and he fattened upon the plunder of his equals, +who desired the honour of his acquaintance. Now, I had seen my uncle +cheat, but I had never imitated his example; when the man of fashion +cheated, and made a jest of his earnings and my scruples--when I saw him +courted, flattered, honoured, and his acts unsuspected, because his +connections embraced half the peerage, the temptation grew strong, but I +still resisted it. However, my father always said I was born to be a +good-for-nothing, and I could not escape my destiny. And now I suddenly +fell in love--you don't know what that is yet--so much the better for +you. The girl was beautiful, and I thought she loved me--perhaps she +did--but I was too poor, so her friends said, for marriage. We courted, +as the saying is, in the meanwhile. It was my love for her, my wish to +deserve her, that made me iron against my friend's example. I was fool +enough to speak to him of Mary--to present him to her--this ended in her +seduction." (Again Gawtrey paused, and breathed hard.) "I discovered +the treachery--I called out the seducer-he sneered, and refused to fight +the low-born adventurer. I struck him to the earth--and then we fought. +I was satisfied by a ball through my side! but he," added Gawtrey, +rubbing his hands, and with a vindictive chuckle,--"He was a cripple for +life! When I recovered I found that my foe, whose sick-chamber was +crowded with friends and comforters, had taken advantage of my illness to +ruin my reputation. He, the swindler, accused me of his own crime: the +equivocal character of my uncle confirmed the charge. Him, his own high- +born pupil was enabled to unmask, and his disgrace was visited on me. I +left my bed to find my uncle (all disguise over) an avowed partner in a +hell, and myself blasted alike in name, love, past, and future. And +then, Philip--then I commenced that career which I have trodden since-- +the prince of good-fellows and good-for-nothings, with ten thousand +aliases, and as many strings to my bow. Society cast me off when I was +innocent. Egad, I have had my revenge on society since!--Ho! ho! ho!" + +The laugh of this man had in it a moral infection. There was a sort of +glorying in its deep tone; it was not the hollow hysteric of shame and +despair--it spoke a sanguine joyousness! William Gawtrey was a man whose +animal constitution had led him to take animal pleasure in all things: he +had enjoyed the poisons he had lived on. + +"But your father--surely your father--" + +"My father," interrupted Gawtrey, "refused me the money (but a small sum) +that, once struck with the strong impulse of a sincere penitence, I +begged of him, to enable me to get an honest living in a humble trade. +His refusal soured the penitence--it gave me an excuse for my career +and conscience grapples to an excuse as a drowning wretch to a straw. +And yet this hard father--this cautious, moral, money-loving man, three +months afterwards, suffered a rogue--almost a stranger--to decoy him into +a speculation that promised to bring him fifty per cent. He invested in +the traffic of usury what had sufficed to save a hundred such as I am +from perdition, and he lost it all. It was nearly his whole fortune; but +he lives and has his luxuries still: be cannot speculate, but he can +save: he cared not if I starved, for he finds an hourly happiness in +starving himself." + +"And your friend," said Philip, after a pause in which his young +sympathies went dangerously with the excuses for his benefactor; "what +has become of him, and the poor girl?" + +"My friend became a great man; he succeeded to his father's peerage--a +very ancient one--and to a splendid income. He is living still. Well, +you shall hear about the poor girl! We are told of victims of seduction +dying in a workhouse or on a dunghill, penitent, broken-hearted, and +uncommonly ragged and sentimental. It may be a frequent case, but it is +not the worst. It is worse, I think, when the fair, penitent, innocent, +credulous dupe becomes in her turn the deceiver--when she catches vice +from the breath upon which she has hung--when she ripens, and mellows, +and rots away into painted, blazing, staring, wholesale harlotry--when, +in her turn, she ruins warm youth with false smiles and long bills--and +when worse--worse than all--when she has children, daughters perhaps, +brought up to the same trade, cooped, plumper, for some hoary lecher, +without a heart in their bosoms, unless a balance for weighing money may +be called a heart. Mary became this; and I wish to Heaven she had rather +died in an hospital! Her lover polluted her soul as well as her beauty: +he found her another lover when he was tired of her. When she was at the +age of thirty-six I met her in Paris, with a daughter of sixteen. I was +then flush with money, frequenting salons, and playing the part of a fine +gentleman. She did not know me at first; and she sought my acquaintance. +For you must know, my young friend," said Gawtrey, abruptly breaking off +the thread of his narrative, "that I am not altogether the low dog you +might suppose in seeing me here. At Paris--ah! you don't know Paris-- +there is a glorious ferment in society in which the dregs are often +uppermost! I came here at the Peace, and here have I resided the greater +part of each year ever since. The vast masses of energy and life, broken +up by the great thaw of the Imperial system, floating along the tide, are +terrible icebergs for the vessel of the state. Some think Napoleonism +over--its effects are only begun. Society is shattered from one end to +the other, and I laugh at the little rivets by which they think to keep +it together. + + [This passage was written at a period when the dynasty of Louis + Philippe seemed the most assured, and Napoleonism was indeed + considered extinct.] + +"But to return. Paris, I say, is the atmosphere for adventurers--new +faces and new men are so common here that they excite no impertinent +inquiry, it is so usual to see fortunes made in a day and spent in a +month; except in certain circles, there is no walking round a man's +character to spy out where it wants piercing! Some lean Greek poet put +lead in his pockets to prevent being blown away;--put gold in your +pockets, and at Paris you may defy the sharpest wind in the world,--yea, +even the breath of that old AEolus--Scandal! Well, then, I had money--no +matter how I came by it--and health, and gaiety; and I was well received +in the coteries that exist in all capitals, but mostly in France, where +pleasure is the cement that joins many discordant atoms. Here, I say, I +met Mary and her daughter, by my old friend--the daughter, still +innocent, but, sacra! in what an element of vice! We knew each other's +secrets, Mary and I, and kept them: she thought me a greater knave than I +was, and she intrusted to me her intention of selling her child to a rich +English marquis. On the other hand, the poor girl confided to me her +horror of the scenes she witnessed and the snares that surrounded her. +What do you think preserved her pure from all danger? Bah! you will +never guess! It was partly because, if example corrupts, it as often +deters, but principally because she loved. A girl who loves one man +purely has about her an amulet which defies the advances of the +profligate. There was a handsome young Italian, an artist, who +frequented the house--he was the man. I had to choose, then, between +mother and daughter: I chose the last." + +Philip seized hold of Gawtrey's hand, grasped it warmly, and the good- +for-nothing continued-- + +"Do you know, that I loved that girl as well as I had ever loved the +mother, though in another way; she was what I fancied the mother to be; +still more fair, more graceful, more winning, with a heart as full of +love as her mother's had been of vanity. I loved that child as if she +had been my own daughter. I induced her to leave her mother's house--I +secreted her--I saw her married to the man she loved--I gave her away, +and saw no more of her for several months." + +"Why?" + +"Because I spent them in prison! The young people could not live upon +air; I gave them what I had, and in order to do more I did something +which displeased the police; I narrowly escaped that time; but I am +popular--very popular, and with plenty of witnesses, not over-scrupulous, +I got off! When I was released, I would not go to see them, for my +clothes were ragged: the police still watched me, and I would not do them +harm in the world! Ay, poor wretches! they struggled so hard: he could +got very little by his art, though, I believe, he was a cleverish fellow +at it, and the money I had given them could not last for ever. They +lived near the Champs Elysees, and at night I used to steal out and look +at them through the window. They seemed so happy, and so handsome, and +so good; but he looked sickly, and I saw that, like all Italians, he +languished for his own warm climate. But man is born to act as well as +to contemplate," pursued Gawtrey, changing his tone into the allegro; +"and I was soon driven into my old ways, though in a lower line. I went +to London, just to give my reputation an airing, and when I returned, +pretty flush again, the poor Italian was dead, and Fanny was a widow, +with one boy, and enceinte with a second child. So then I sought her +again, for her mother had found her out, and was at her with her devilish +kindness; but Heaven was merciful, and took her away from both of us: she +died in giving birth to a girl, and her last words were uttered to me, +imploring me--the adventurer--the charlatan--the good-for-nothing--to +keep her child from the clutches of her own mother. Well, sir, I did +what I could for both the children; but the boy was consumptive, like his +father, and sleeps at Pere-la-Chaise. The girl is here--you shall see +her some day. Poor Fanny! if ever the devil will let me, I shall reform +for her sake. Meanwhile, for her sake I must get grist for the mill. My +story is concluded, for I need not tell you all of my pranks--of all the +parts I have played in life. I have never been a murderer, or a burglar, +or a highway robber, or what the law calls a thief. I can only say, as I +said before, I have lived upon my wits, and they have been a tolerable +capital on the whole. I have been an actor, a money-lender, a physician, +a professor of animal magnetism (that was lucrative till it went out of +fashion, perhaps it will come in again); I have been a lawyer, a house- +agent, a dealer in curiosities and china; I have kept a hotel; I have set +up a weekly newspaper; I have seen almost every city in Europe, and made +acquaintance with some of its gaols; but a man who has plenty of brains +generally falls on his legs." + +"And your father?" said Philip; and here he spoke to Gawtrey of the +conversation he had overheard in the churchyard, but on which a scruple +of natural delicacy had hitherto kept him silent. + +"Well, now," said his host, while a slight blush rose to his cheeks, +"I will tell you, that though to my father's sternness and avarice I +attribute many of my faults, I yet always had a sort of love for him; and +when in London I accidentally heard that he was growing blind, and living +with an artful old jade of a housekeeper, who might send him to rest with +a dose of magnesia the night after she had coaxed him to make a will in +her favour. I sought him out--and--but you say you heard what passed." + +"Yes; and I heard him also call you by name, when it was too late, and I +saw the tears on his cheeks." + +"Did you? Will you swear to that?" exclaimed Gawtrey, with vehemence: +then, shading his brow with his band, he fell into a reverie that lasted +some moments. + +"If anything happen to me, Philip," he said, abruptly, "perhaps he may +yet be a father to poor Fanny; and if he takes to her, she will repay him +for whatever pain I may, perhaps, have cost him. Stop! now I think of +it, I will write down his address for you--never forget it--there! It is +time to go to bed." + +Gawtrey's tale made a deep impression on Philip. He was too young, too +inexperienced, too much borne away by the passion of the narrator, to see +that Gawtrey had less cause to blame Fate than himself. True, he had +been unjustly implicated in the disgrace of an unworthy uncle, but he had +lived with that uncle, though he knew him to be a common cheat; true, he +had been betrayed by a friend, but he had before known that friend to be +a man without principle or honour. But what wonder that an ardent boy +saw nothing of this--saw only the good heart that had saved a poor girl +from vice, and sighed to relieve a harsh and avaricious parent? Even the +hints that Gawtrey unawares let fall of practices scarcely covered by the +jovial phrase of "a great schoolboy's scrapes," either escaped the notice +of Philip, or were charitably construed by him, in the compassion and the +ignorance of a young, hasty, and grateful heart. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + "And she's a stranger + Women--beware women."--MIDDLETON. + + "As we love our youngest children best, + So the last fruit of our affection, + Wherever we bestow it, is most strong; + Since 'tis indeed our latest harvest-home, + Last merriment 'fore winter!" + WEBSTER, _Devil's Law Case_. + + "I would fain know what kind of thing a man's heart is? + I will report it to you; 'tis a thing framed + With divers corners!"--ROWLEY. + +I have said that Gawtrey's tale made a deep impression on Philip;--that +impression was increased by subsequent conversations, more frank even +than their talk had hitherto been. There was certainly about this man a +fatal charm which concealed his vices. It arose, perhaps, from the +perfect combinations of his physical frame--from a health which made his +spirits buoyant and hearty under all circumstances--and a blood so fresh, +so sanguine, that it could not fail to keep the pores of the heart open. +But he was not the less--for all his kindly impulses and generous +feelings, and despite the manner in which, naturally anxious to make the +least unfavourable portrait of himself to Philip, he softened and glossed +over the practices of his life--a thorough and complete rogue, a +dangerous, desperate, reckless daredevil. It was easy to see when +anything crossed him, by the cloud on his shaggy brow, by the swelling of +the veins on the forehead, by the dilation of the broad nostril, that he +was one to cut his way through every obstacle to an end,--choleric, +impetuous, fierce, determined. Such, indeed, were the qualities that +made him respected among his associates, as his more bland and humorous +ones made him beloved. He was, in fact, the incarnation of that great +spirit which the laws of the world raise up against the world, and by +which the world's injustice on a large scale is awfully chastised; on a +small scale, merely nibbled at and harassed, as the rat that gnaws the +hoof of the elephant:--the spirit which, on a vast theatre, rises up, +gigantic and sublime, in the heroes of war and revolution--in Mirabeaus, +Marats, Napoleons: on a minor stage, it shows itself in demagogues, +fanatical philosophers, and mob-writers; and on the forbidden boards, +before whose reeking lamps outcasts sit, at once audience and actors, it +never produced a knave more consummate in his part, or carrying it off +with more buskined dignity, than William Gawtrey. I call him by his +aboriginal name; as for his other appellations, Bacchus himself had not +so many! + +One day, a lady, richly dressed, was ushered by Mr. Birnie into the +bureau of Mr. Love, alias Gawtrey. Philip was seated by the window, +reading, for the first time, the _Candide_,--that work, next to +_Rasselas_, the most hopeless and gloomy of the sports of genius with +mankind. The lady seemed rather embarrassed when she perceived Mr. Love +was not alone. She drew back, and, drawing her veil still more closely +round her, said, in French: + +"Pardon me, I would wish a private conversation." Philip rose to +withdraw, when the lady, observing him with eyes whose lustre shone +through the veil, said gently: "But perhaps the young gentleman is +discreet." + +"He is not discreet, he is discretion!--my adopted son. You may confide +in him--upon my honour you may, madam!" and Mr. Love placed his hand on +his heart. + +"He is very young," said the lady, in a tone of involuntary compassion, +as, with a very white hand, she unclasped the buckle of her cloak. + +"He can the better understand the curse of celibacy," returned Mr. Love, +smiling. + +The lady lifted part of her veil, and discovered a handsome mouth, and a +set of small, white teeth; for she, too, smiled, though gravely, as she +turned to Morton, and said-- + +"You seem, sir, more fitted to be a votary of the temple than one of its +officers. However, Monsieur Love, let there be no mistake between us; I +do not come here to form a marriage, but to prevent one. I understand +that Monsieur the Vicomte de Vaudemont has called into request your +services. I am one of the Vicomte's family; we are all anxious that he +should not contract an engagement of the strange and, pardon me, +unbecoming character, which must stamp a union formed at a public +office." + +"I assure you, madam," said Mr. Love, with dignity, "that we have +contributed to the very first--" + +"_Mon Dieu_!" interrupted the lady, with much impatience, "spare me a +eulogy on your establishment: I have no doubt it is very respectable; and +for _grisettes_ and _epiciers_ may do extremely well. But the Vicomte is +a man of birth and connections. In a word, what he contemplates is +preposterous. I know not what fee Monsieur Love expects; but if he +contrive to amuse Monsieur de Vaudemont, and to frustrate every +connection he proposes to form, that fee, whatever it may be, shall be +doubled. Do you understand me?" + +"Perfectly, madam; yet it is not your offer that will bias me, but the +desire to oblige so charming a lady." + +"It is agreed, then?" said the lady, carelessly; and as she spoke she +again glanced at Philip. + +"If madame will call again, I will inform her of my plans," said Mr. +Love. + +"Yes, I will call again. Good morning!" As she rose and passed Philip, +she wholly put aside her veil, and looked at him with a gaze entirely +free from coquetry, but curious, searching, and perhaps admiring--the +look that an artist may give to a picture that seines of more value than +the place where he finds it would seem to indicate. The countenance of +the lady herself was fair and noble, and Philip felt a strange thrill at +his heart as, with a slight inclination of her' head, she turned from the +room. + +"Ah!" said Gawtrey, laughing, "this is not the first time I have been +paid by relations to break off the marriages I had formed. Egad! if one +could open a _bureau_ to make married people single, one would soon be a +Croesus! Well, then, this decides me to complete the union between +Monsieur Goupille and Mademoiselle de Courval. I had balanced a little +hitherto between the _epicier_ and the Vicomte. Now I will conclude +matters. Do you know, Phil, I think you have made a conquest?" + +"Pooh!" said Philip, colouring. + +In effect, that very evening Mr. Love saw both the _epicier_ and Adele, +and fixed the marriage-day. As Monsieur Goupille was a person of great +distinction in the Faubourg, this wedding was one upon which Mr. Love +congratulated himself greatly; and he cheerfully accepted an invitation +for himself and his partners to honour the _noces_ with their presence. + +A night or two before the day fixed for the marriage of Monsieur Goupille +and the aristocratic Adele, when Mr. Birnie had retired, Gawtrey made his +usual preparations for enjoying himself. But this time the cigar and the +punch seemed to fail of their effect. Gawtrey remained moody and silent; +and Morton was thinking of the bright eyes of the lady who was so much +interested against the amours of the Vicomte de Vaudemont. + +At last, Gawtrey broke silence: + +"My young friend," said he, "I told you of my little _protege_; I have +been buying toys for her this morning; she is a beautiful creature; +to-morrow is her birthday--she will then be six years old. But--but--" +here Gawtrey sighed--"I fear she is not all right here," and he touched +his forehead. + +"I should like much to see her," said Philip, not noticing the latter +remark. + +"And you shall--you shall come with me to-morrow. Heigho! I should not +like to die, for her sake!" + +"Does her wretched relation attempt to regain her?" + +"Her relation! No; she is no more--she died about two years since! Poor +Mary! I--well, this is folly. But Fanny is at present in a convent; +they are all kind to her, but then I pay well; if I were dead, and the +pay stopped,--again I ask, what would become of her, unless, as I before +said, my father--" + +"But you are making a fortune now?" + +"If this lasts--yes; but I live in fear--the police of this cursed city +are lynx-eyed; however, that is the bright side of the question." + +"Why not have the child with you, since you love her so much? She would +be a great comfort to you." + +"Is this a place for a child--a girl?" said Gawtrey, stamping his foot +impatiently. "I should go mad if I saw that villainous deadman's eye bent +upon her!" + +You speak of Birnie. How can you endure him?" + +"When you are my age you will know why we endure what we dread--why we +make friends of those who else would be most horrible foes: no, no-- +nothing can deliver me of this man but Death. And--and--" added Gawtrey, +turning pale, "I cannot murder a man who eats my bread. There are +stronger ties, my lad, than affection, that bind men, like galley-slaves, +together. He who can hang you puts the halter round your neck and leads +you by it like a dog." + +A shudder came over the young listener. And what dark secrets, known +only to those two, had bound, to a man seemingly his subordinate and +tool, the strong will and resolute temper of William Gawtrey? + +"But, begone, dull care!" exclaimed Gawtrey, rousing himself. "And, +after all, Birnie is a useful fellow, and dare no more turn against me +than I against him! Why don't you drink more? + + "Oh! have you e'er heard of the famed Captain Wattle?" + +and Gawtrey broke out into a loud Bacchanalian hymn, in which Philip +could find no mirth, and from which the songster suddenly paused to +exclaim:-- + +"Mind you say nothing about Fanny to Birnie; my secrets with him are not +of that nature. He could not hurt her, poor lamb! it is true--at least, +as far as I can foresee. But one can never feel too sure of one's lamb, +if one once introduces it to the butcher!" + +The next day being Sunday, the bureau was closed, and Philip and Gawtrey +repaired to the convent. It was a dismal-looking place as to the +exterior; but, within, there was a large garden, well kept, and, +notwithstanding the winter, it seemed fair and refreshing, compared with +the polluted streets. The window of the room into which they were shown +looked upon the green sward, with walls covered with ivy at the farther +end. And Philip's own childhood came back to him as he gazed on the +quiet of the lonely place. + +The door opened--an infant voice was heard, a voice of glee-of rapture; +and a child, light and beautiful as a fairy, bounded to Gawtrey's breast. + +Nestling there, she kissed his face, his hands, his clothes, with a +passion that did not seem to belong to her age, laughing and sobbing +almost at a breath. + +On his part, Gawtrey appeared equally affected: he stroked down her hair +with his huge hand, calling her all manner of pet names, in a tremulous +voice that vainly struggled to be gay. + +At length he took the toys he had brought with him from his capacious +pockets, and strewing them on the floor, fairly stretched his vast bulk +along; while the child tumbled over him, sometimes grasping at the toys, +and then again returning to his bosom, and laying her head there, looked +up quietly into his eyes, as if the joy were too much for her. + +Morton, unheeded by both, stood by with folded arms. He thought of his +lost and ungrateful brother, and muttered to himself: + +"Fool! when she is older, she will forsake him!" + +Fanny betrayed in her face the Italian origin of her father. She had +that exceeding richness of complexion which, though not common even in +Italy, is only to be found in the daughters of that land, and which +harmonised well with the purple lustre of her hair, and the full, clear +iris of the dark eyes. Never were parted cherries brighter than her dewy +lips; and the colour of the open neck and the rounded arms was of a +whiteness still more dazzling, from the darkness of the hair and the +carnation of the glowing cheek. + +Suddenly Fanny started from Gawtrey's arms, and running up to Morton, +gazed at him wistfully, and said, in French: + +"Who are you? Do you come from the moon? I think you do." Then, +stopping abruptly, she broke into a verse of a nursery-song, which she +chaunted with a low, listless tone, as if she were not conscious of the +sense. As she thus sang, Morton, looking at her, felt a strange and +painful doubt seize him. The child's eyes, though soft, were so vacant +in their gaze. + +"And why do I come from the moon?" said he. + +"Because you look sad and cross. I don't like you--I don't like the +moon; it gives me a pain here!" and she put her hand to her temples. +"Have you got anything for Fanny--poor, poor Fanny?" and, dwelling on the +epithet, she shook her head mournfully. + +"You are rich, Fanny, with all those toys." + +"Am I? Everybody calls me poor Fanny--everybody but papa;" and she ran +again to Gawtrey, and laid her head on his shoulder. + +"She calls me papa!" said Gawtrey, kissing her; "you hear it? Bless +her!" + +"And you never kiss any one but Fanny--you have no other little girl?" +said the child, earnestly, and with a look less vacant than that which +had saddened Morton. + +"No other--no--nothing under heaven, and perhaps above it, but you!" and +he clasped her in his arms. "But," he added, after a pause--"but mind +me, Fanny, you must like this gentleman. He will be always good to you: +and he had a little brother whom he was as fond of as I am of you." + +"No, I won't like him--I won't like anybody but you and my sister!" + +"Sister!--who is your sister?" + +The child's face relapsed into an expression almost of idiotcy. "I don't +know--I never saw her. I hear her sometimes, but I don't understand what +she says.--Hush! come here!" and she stole to the window on tiptoe. +Gawtrey followed and looked out. + +"Do you hear her, now?" said Fanny. "What does she say?" + +As the girl spoke, some bird among the evergreens uttered a shrill, +plaintive cry, rather than song--a sound which the thrush occasionally +makes in the winter, and which seems to express something of fear, and +pain, and impatience. "What does she say?--can you tell me?" asked the +child. + +"Pooh! that is a bird; why do you call it your sister?" + +"I don't know!--because it is--because it--because--I don't know--is it +not in pain?--do something for it, papa!" + +Gawtrey glanced at Morton, whose face betokened his deep pity, and +creeping up to him, whispered,-- + +"Do you think she is really touched here? No, no,--she will outgrow it-- +I am sure she will!" + +Morton sighed. + +Fanny by this time had again seated herself in the middle of the floor, +and arranged her toys, but without seeming to take pleasure in them. + +At last Gawtrey was obliged to depart. The lay sister, who had charge of +Fanny, was summoned into the parlour; and then the child's manner +entirely changed; her face grew purple--she sobbed with as much anger as +grief. "She would not leave papa--she would not go--that she would not!" + +"It is always so," whispered Gawtrey to Morton, in an abashed and +apologetic voice. "It is so difficult to get away from her. Just go and +talk with her while I steal out." + +Morton went to her, as she struggled with the patient good-natured +sister, and began to soothe and caress her, till she turned on him her +large humid eyes, and said, mournfully, + +"_Tu es mechant, tu_. Poor Fanny!" + +"But this pretty doll--" began the sister. The child looked at it +joylessly. + +"And papa is going to die!" + +"Whenever Monsieur goes," whispered the nun, "she always says that he is +dead, and cries herself quietly to sleep; when Monsieur returns, she says +he is come to life again. Some one, I suppose, once talked to her about +death; and she thinks when she loses sight of any one, that that is +death." + +"Poor child!" said Morton, with a trembling voice. + +The child looked up, smiled, stroked his cheek with her little hand, and +said: + +"Thank you!--Yes! poor Fanny! Ah, he is going--see!--let me go too-- +_tu es mechant_." + +"But," said Morton, detaining her gently, "do you know that you give him +pain?--you make him cry by showing pain yourself. Don't make him so +sad!" + +The child seemed struck, hung down her head for a moment, as if in +thought, and then, jumping from Morton's lap, ran to Gawtrey, put up her +pouting lips, and said: + +"One kiss more!" + +Gawtrey kissed her, and turned away his head. + +"Fanny is a good girl!" and Fanny, as she spoke, went back to Morton, and +put her little fingers into her eyes, as if either to shut out Gawtrey's +retreat from her sight, or to press back her tears. + +"Give me the doll now, sister Marie." + +Morton smiled and sighed, placed the child, who struggled no more, in the +nun's arms, and left the room; but as he closed the door he looked back, +and saw that Fanny had escaped from the sister, thrown herself on the +floor, and was crying, but not loud. + +"Is she not a little darling?" said Gawtrey, as they gained the street. + +"She is, indeed, a most beautiful child!" + +"And you will love her if I leave her penniless," said Gawtrey, abruptly. +"It was your love for your mother and your brother that made me like you +from the first. Ay," continued Gawtrey, in a tone of great earnestness, +"ay, and whatever may happen to me, I will strive and keep you, my poor +lad, harmless; and what is better, innocent even of such matters as sit +light enough on my own well-seasoned conscience. In turn, if ever you +have the power, be good to her,--yes, be good to her! and I won't say a +harsh word to you if ever you like to turn king's evidence against +myself." + +"Gawtrey!" said Morton, reproachfully, and almost fiercely. + +"Bah!--such things are! But tell me honestly, do you think she is very +strange--very deficient?" + +"I have not seen enough of her to judge," answered Morton, evasively. + +"She is so changeful," persisted Gawtrey. "Sometimes you would say that +she was above her age, she comes out with such thoughtful, clever things; +then, the next moment, she throws me into despair. These nuns are very +skilful in education--at least they are said to be so. The doctors give +me hope, too. You see, her poor mother was very unhappy at the time of +her birth--delirious, indeed: that may account for it. I often fancy +that it is the constant excitement which her state occasions me that +makes me love her so much. You see she is one who can never shift for +herself. I must get money for her; I have left a little already with the +superior, and I would not touch it to save myself from famine! If she +has money people will be kind enough to her. And then," continued +Gawtrey, "you must perceive that she loves nothing in the world but me +--me, whom nobody else loves! Well--well, now to the shop again!" + +On returning home the _bonne_ informed them that a lady had called, and +asked both for Monsieur Love and the young gentleman, and seemed much +chagrined at missing both. By the description, Morton guessed she was +the fair _incognita_, and felt disappointed at having lost the interview. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + "The cursed carle was at his wonted trade, + Still tempting heedless men into his snare, + In witching wise, as I before have said; + But when he saw, in goodly gear array'd, + The grave majestic knight approaching nigh, + His countenance fell."--THOMSON, _Castle of Indolence_. + +The morning rose that was to unite Monsieur Goupille with Mademoiselle +Adele de Courval. The ceremony was performed, and bride and bridegroom +went through that trying ordeal with becoming gravity. Only the elegant +Adele seemed more unaffectedly agitated than Mr. Love could well account +for; she was very nervous in church, and more often turned her eyes to +the door than to the altar. Perhaps she wanted to run away; but it was +either too late or too early for the proceeding. The rite performed, the +happy pair and their friends adjourned to the _Cadran Bleu_, that +_restaurant_ so celebrated in the festivities of the good citizens of +Paris. Here Mr. Love had ordered, at the _epicier's_ expense, a most +tasteful entertainment. + +"_Sacre_! but you have not played the economist, Monsieur Lofe," said +Monsieur Goupille, rather querulously, as he glanced at the long room +adorned with artificial flowers, and the table _a cingitante couverts_. + +"Bah!" replied Mr. Love, "you can retrench afterwards. Think of the +fortune she brought you." + +"It is a pretty sum, certainly," said Monsieur Goupille, "and the notary +is perfectly satisfied." + +"There is not a marriage in Paris that does me more credit," said Mr. +Love; and he marched off to receive the compliments and congratulations +that awaited him among such of the guests as were aware of his good +offices. The Vicomte de Vaudemont was of course not present. He had not +been near Mr. Love since Adele had accepted the _epicier_. But Madame +Beavor, in a white bonnet lined with lilac, was hanging, sentimentally, +on the arm of the Pole, who looked very grand with his white favour; and +Mr. Higgins had been introduced, by Mr. Love, to a little dark Creole, +who wore paste diamonds, and had very languishing eyes; so that Mr. +Love's heart might well swell with satisfaction at the prospect of the +various blisses to come, which might owe their origin to his benevolence. +In fact, that archpriest of the Temple of Hymen was never more great than +he was that day; never did his establishment seem more solid, his +reputation more popular, or his fortune more sure. He was the life of +the party. + +The banquet over, the revellers prepared for a dance. Monsieur Goupille, +in tights, still tighter than he usually wore, and of a rich nankeen, +quite new, with striped silk stockings, opened the ball with the lady of +a rich _patissier_ in the same Faubourg; Mr. Love took out the bride. +The evening advanced; and after several other dances of ceremony, +Monsieur Goupille conceived himself entitled to dedicate one to connubial +affection. A country-dance was called, and the _epicier_ claimed the +fair hand of the gentle Adele. About this time, two persons not hitherto +perceived had quietly entered the room, and, standing near the doorway, +seemed examining the dancers, as if in search for some one. They bobbed +their heads up and down, to and fro stopped--now stood on tiptoe. The +one was a tall, large-whiskered, fair-haired man; the other, a little, +thin, neatly-dressed person, who kept his hand on the arm of his +companion, and whispered to him from time to time. The whiskered +gentleman replied in a guttural tone, which proclaimed his origin to be +German. The busy dancers did not perceive the strangers. The bystanders +did, and a hum of curiosity circled round; who could they be?--who had +invited them?--they were new faces in the Faubourg--perhaps relations to +Adele? + +In high delight the fair bride was skipping down the middle, while +Monsieur Goupille, wiping his forehead with care, admired her agility; +when, to and behold! the whiskered gentleman I have described abruptly +advanced from his companion, and cried: + +"_La voila!--sacre tonnerre!_" + +At that voice--at that apparition, the bride halted; so suddenly indeed, +that she had not time to put down both feet, but remained with one high +in the air, while the other sustained itself on the light fantastic toe. +The company naturally imagined this to be an operatic flourish, which +called for approbation. Monsieur Love, who was thundering down behind +her, cried, "Bravo!" and as the well-grown gentleman had to make a sweep +to avoid disturbing her equilibrium, he came full against the whiskered +stranger, and sent him off as a bat sends a ball. + +"_Mon Dieu_!" cried Monsieur Goupille. "_Ma douce amie_--she has +fainted away!" And, indeed, Adele had no sooner recovered her, balance, +than she resigned it once more into the arms of the startled Pole, who +was happily at hand. + +In the meantime, the German stranger, who had saved himself from falling +by coming with his full force upon the toes of Mr. Higgins, again +advanced to the spot, and, rudely seizing the fair bride by the arm, +exclaimed,-- + +"No sham if you please, madame--speak! What the devil have you done with +the money?" + +"Really, sir," said Monsieur Goupille, drawing tip his cravat, "this is +very extraordinary conduct! What have you got to say to this lady's +money?--it is _my_ money now, sir!" + +"Oho! it is, is it? We'll soon see that. _Approchez donc, Monsieur +Favart, faites votre devoir_." + +At these words the small companion of the stranger slowly sauntered to +the spot, while at the sound of his name and the tread of his step, the +throng gave way to the right and left. For Monsieur Favart was one of +the most renowned chiefs of the great Parisian police--a man worthy to +be the contemporary of the illustrious Vidocq. + +"_Calmez vous, messieurs_; do not be alarmed, ladies," said this +gentleman, in the mildest of all human voices; and certainly no oil +dropped on the waters ever produced so tranquillising an effect as that +small, feeble, gentle tenor. The Pole, in especial, who was holding the +fair bride with both his arms, shook all over, and seemed about to let +his burden gradually slide to the floor, when Monsieur Favart, looking at +him with a benevolent smile, said-- + +"_Aha, mon brave! c'est toi. Restez donc. Restez, tenant toujours la +dame_!" + +The Pole, thus condemned, in the French idiom, "always to hold the dame," +mechanically raised the arms he had previously dejected, and the police +officer, with an approving nod of the head, said,-- + +"_Bon,! ne bougez point,--c'est ca_!" + +Monsieur Goupille, in equal surprise and indignation to see his better +half thus consigned, without any care to his own marital feelings, to the +arms of another, was about to snatch her from the Pole, when Monsieur +Favart, touching him on the breast with his little finger, said, in the +suavest manner,-- + +"_Mon bourgeois_, meddle not with what does not concern you!" + +"With what does not concern me!" repeated Monsieur Goupille, drawing +himself up to so great a stretch that he seemed pulling off his tights +the wrong way. "Explain yourself, if you please! This lady is my wife!" + +"Say that again,--that's all!" cried the whiskered stranger, in most +horrible French, and with a furious grimace, as he shook both his fists +just under the nose of the _epicier_. + +"Say it again, sir," said Monsieur Goupille, by no means daunted; "and +why should not I say it again? That lady is my wife!" + +"You lie!--she is mine!" cried the German; and bending down, he caught +the fair Adele from the Pole with as little ceremony as if she had never +had a great-grandfather a marquis, and giving her a shake that might have +roused the dead, thundered out,-- + +"Speak! Madame Bihl! Are you my wife or not?" + +"_Monstre_!" murmured Adele, opening her eyes. + +"There--you hear--she owns me!" said the German, appealing to the +company with a triumphant air. + +"_C'est vrai_!" said the soft voice of the policeman. And now, pray +don't let us disturb your amusements any longer. We have a fiacre at the +door. Remove your lady, Monsieur Bihl." + +"Monsieur Lofe!--Monsieur Lofe!" cried, or rather screeched the +_epicier_, darting across the room, and seizing the _chef_ by the tail of +his coat, just as he was half way through the door, "come back! _Quelle +mauvaise plaisanterie me faites-vous ici_? Did you not tell me that lady +was single? Am I married or not: Do I stand on my head or my heels?" + +"Hush-hush! _mon bon bourgeois_!" whispered Mr. Love; "all shall be +explained to-morrow!" + +"Who is this gentleman?" asked Monsieur Favart, approaching Mr. Love, +who, seeing himself in for it, suddenly jerked off the _epicier_, thrust +his hands down into his breeches' pockets, buried his chin in his cravat, +elevated his eyebrows, screwed in his eyes, and puffed out his cheeks, so +that the astonished Monsieur Goupille really thought himself bewitched, +and literally did not recognise the face of the match-maker. + +"Who is this gentleman?" repeated the little officer, standing beside, +or rather below, Mr. Love, and looking so diminutive by the contras that +you might have fancied that the Priest of Hymen had only to breathe to +blow him away. + +"Who should he be, monsieur?" cried, with great pertness, Madame Rosalie +Caumartin, coming to the relief, with the generosity of her sex.--"This +is Monsieur Lofe--_Anglais celebre_. What have you to say against him?" + +"He has got five hundred francs of mine!" cried the epicier. + +The policeman scanned Mr. Love, with great attention. "So you are in +Paris again?--_Hein!--vous jouez toujours votre role_! + +"_Ma foi_!" said Mr. Love, boldly; "I don't understand what monsieur +means; my character is well known--go and inquire it in London--ask the +Secretary of Foreign Affairs what is said of me--inquire of my +Ambassador--demand of my--" + +"_Votre passeport, monsieur_?" + +"It is at home. A gentleman does not carry his passport in his pocket +when he goes to a ball!" + +"I will call and see it--_au revoir_! Take my advice and leave Paris; I +think I have seen you somewhere!" + +"Yet I have never had the honour to marry monsieur!" said Mr. Love, with +a polite bow. + +In return for his joke, the policeman gave Mr. Love one look-it was a +quiet look, very quiet; but Mr. Love seemed uncommonly affected by it; + he did not say another word, but found himself outside the house in a +twinkling. Monsieur Favart turned round and saw the Pole making himself +as small as possible behind the goodly proportions of Madame Beavor. + +"What name does that gentleman go by?" + +"So--vo--lofski, the heroic Pole," cried Madame Beavor, with sundry +misgivings at the unexpected cowardice of so great a patriot. + +"Hein! take care of yourselves, ladies. I have nothing against that +person this time. But Monsieur Latour has served his apprenticeship at +the galleys, and is no more a Pole than I am a Jew." + +"And this lady's fortune!" cried Monsieur Goupitle, pathetically; "the +settlements are all made--the notaries all paid. I am sure there must be +some mistake." + +Monsieur Bihl, who had by this time restored his lost Helen to her +senses, stalked up to the _epicier_, dragging the lady along with him. + +"Sir, there is no mistake! But, when I have got the money, if you like +to have the lady you are welcome to her." + +"Monstre!" again muttered the fair Adele. + +"The long and the short of it," said Monsieur Favart, "is that Monsieur +Bihl is a _brave garcon_, and has been half over the world as a courier." + +"A courier!" exclaimed several voices. + +"Madame was nursery-governess to an English _milord_. They married, and +quarrelled--no harm in that, _mes amis_; nothing more common. Monsieur +Bihl is a very faithful fellow; nursed his last master in an illness that +ended fatally, because he travelled with his doctor. Milord left him a +handsome legacy--he retired from service, and fell ill, perhaps from +idleness or beer. Is not that the story, Monsieur Bihl?" + +"He was always drunk--the wretch!" sobbed Adele. "That was to drown my +domestic sorrows," said the German; "and when I was sick in my bed, +madame ran off with my money. Thanks to monsieur, I have found both, and +I wish you a very good night." + +"_Dansez-vous toujours, mes amis_," said the officer, bowing. And +following Adele and her spouse, the little man left the room--where he +had caused, in chests so broad and limbs so doughty, much the same +consternation as that which some diminutive ferret occasions in a burrow +of rabbits twice his size. + +Morton had outstayed Mr. Love. But he thought it unnecessary to linger +long after that gentleman's departure; and, in the general hubbub that +ensued, he crept out unperceived, and soon arrived at the _bureau_. He +found Mr. Love and Mr. Birnie already engaged in packing up their +effects. + +"Why--when did you leave?" said Morton to Mr. Birnie. + +"I saw the policeman enter." + +"And why the deuce did not you tell us?" said Gawtrey. + +"Every man for himself. Besides, Mr. Love was dancing," replied Mr. +Birnie, with a dull glance of disdain. "Philosophy," muttered Gawtrey, +thrusting his dresscoat into his trunk; then, suddenly changing his +voice, "Ha! ha! it was a very good joke after all--own I did it well. +Ecod! if he had not given me that look, I think I should have turned the +tables on him. But those d---d fellows learn of the mad doctors how to +tame us. Faith, my heart went down to my shoes--yet I'm no coward!" + +"But, after all, he evidently did not know you," said Morton; "and what +has he to say against you? Your trade is a strange one, but not +dishonest. Why give up as if---" + +"My young friend," interrupted Gawtrey, "whether the officer comes after +us or not, our trade is ruined; that infernal Adele, with her fabulous +_grandmaman_, has done for us. Goupille will blow the temple about our +ears. No help for it--eh, Birnie?" + +"None." + +"Go to bed, Philip: we'll call thee at daybreak, for we must make clear +work before our neighbours open their shutters." + +Reclined, but half undressed, on his bed in the little cabinet, Morton +revolved the events of the evening. The thought that he should see no +more of that white hand and that lovely mouth, which still haunted his +recollection as appertaining to the _incognita_, greatly indisposed him +towards the abrupt flight intended by Gawtrey, while (so much had his +faith in that person depended upon respect for his confident daring, and +so thoroughly fearless was Morton's own nature) he felt himself greatly +shaken in his allegiance to the chief, by recollecting the effect +produced on his valour by a single glance from the instrument of law. +He had not yet lived long enough to be aware that men are sometimes the +Representatives of Things; that what the scytale was to the Spartan hero, +a sheriff's writ often is to a Waterloo medallist: that a Bow Street +runner will enter the foulest den where Murder sits with his fellows, and +pick out his prey with the beck of his forefinger. That, in short, the +thing called LAW, once made tangible and present, rarely fails to palsy +the fierce heart of the thing called CRIME. For Law is the symbol of all +mankind reared against One Foe--the Man of Crime. Not yet aware of this +truth, nor, indeed, in the least suspecting Gawtrey of worse offences +than those of a charlatanic and equivocal profession, the young man mused +over his protector's cowardice in disdain and wonder: till, wearied with +conjectures, distrust, and shame at his own strange position of +obligation to one whom he could not respect, he fell asleep. + +When he woke, he saw the grey light of dawn that streamed cheerlessly +through his shutterless window, struggling with the faint ray of a candle +that Gawtrey, shading with his hand, held over the sleeper. He started +up, and, in the confusion of waking and the imperfect light by which he +beheld the strong features of Gawtrey, half imagined it was a foe who +stood before him. + +"Take care, man," said Gawtrey, as Morton, in this belief, grasped his +arm. "You have a precious rough gripe of your own. Be quiet, will you? +I have a word to say to you." Here Gawtrey, placing the candle on a +chair, returned to the door and closed it. + +"Look you," he said in a whisper, "I have nearly run through my circle of +invention, and my wit, fertile as it is, can present to me little +encouragement in the future. The eyes of this Favart once on me, every +disguise and every double will not long avail. I dare not return to +London: I am too well known in Brussels, Berlin, and Vienna--" + +"But," interrupted Morton, raising himself on his arm, and fixing his +dark eyes upon his host,--"but you have told me again and again that you +have committed no crime; why then be so fearful of discovery?" + +"Why," repeated Gawtrey, with a slight hesitation which he instantly +overcame, "why! have not you yourself learned that appearances have the +effect of crimes?--were you not chased as a thief when I rescued you from +your foe, the law?--are you not, though a boy in years, under an alias, +and an exile from your own land? And how can you put these austere +questions to me, who am growing grey in the endeavour to extract sunbeams +from cucumbers--subsistence from poverty? I repeat that there are +reasons why I must avoid, for the present, the great capitals. I must +sink in life, and take to the provinces. Birnie is sanguine as ever; but +he is a terrible sort of comforter! Enough of that. Now to yourself: +our savings are less than you might expect; to be sure, Birnie has been +treasurer, and I have laid by a little for Fanny, which I will rather +starve than touch. There remain, however, 150 napoleons, and our +effects, sold at a fourth their value, will fetch 150 more. Here is your +share. I have compassion on you. I told you I would bear you harmless +and innocent. Leave us while yet time." + +It seemed, then, to Morton that Gawtrey had divined his thoughts of shame +and escape of the previous night; perhaps Gawtrey had: and such is the +human heart, that, instead of welcoming the very release he had half +contemplated, now that it was offered him, Philip shrank from it as a +base desertion. + +"Poor Gawtrey!" said he, pushing back the canvas bag of gold held out to +him, "you shall not go over the world, and feel that the orphan you fed +and fostered left you to starve with your money in his pocket. When you +again assure me that you have committed no crime, you again remind me +that gratitude has no right to be severe upon the shifts and errors of +its benefactor. If you do not conform to society, what has society done +for me? No! I will not forsake you in a reverse. Fortune has given you +a fall. What, then, courage, and at her again!" + +These last words were said so heartily and cheerfully as Morton sprang +from the bed, that they inspirited Gawtrey, who had really desponded of +his lot. + +"Well," said he, "I cannot reject the only friend left me; and while I +live--. But I will make no professions. Quick, then, our luggage is +already gone, and I hear Birnie grunting the rogue's march of retreat." + +Morton's toilet was soon completed, and the three associates bade adieu +to the _bureau_. + +Birnie, who was taciturn and impenetrable as ever, walked a little before +as guide. They arrived, at length, at a _serrurier's_ shop, placed in an +alley near the Porte St. Denis. The _serrurier_ himself, a tall, +begrimed, blackbearded man, was taking the shutters from his shop as they +approached. He and Birnie exchanged silent nods; and the former, leaving +his work, conducted them up a very filthy flight of stairs to an attic, +where a bed, two stools, one table, and an old walnut-tree bureau formed +the sole articles of furniture. Gawtrey looked rather ruefully round the +black, low, damp walls, and said in a crestfallen tone: + +"We were better off at the Temple of Hymen. But get us a bottle of wine, +some eggs, and a frying-pan. By Jove, I am a capital hand at an omelet!" + +The _serrurier_ nodded again, grinned, and withdrew. + +"Rest here," said Birnie, in his calm, passionless voice, that seemed to +Morton, however, to assume an unwonted tone of command. "I will go and +make the best bargain I can for our furniture, buy fresh clothes, and +engage our places for Tours." + +"For Tours?" repeated Morton. + +"Yes, there are some English there; one can live wherever there are +English," said Gawtrey. + +"Hum!" grunted Birnie, drily, and, buttoning up his coat, he walked +slowly away. + +About noon he returned with a bundle of clothes, which Gawtrey, who +always regained his elasticity of spirit wherever there was fair play to +his talents, examined with great attention, and many exclamations of +"_Bon!--c'est va_." + +"I have done well with the Jew," said Birnie, drawing from his coat +pocket two heavy bags. "One hundred and eighty napoleons. We shall +commence with a good capital." + +"You are right, my friend," said Gawtrey. + +The _serrurier_ was then despatched to the best restaurant in the +neighbourhood, and the three adventurers made a less Socratic dinner than +might have been expected. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + "Then out again he flies to wing his marry round." + THOMPSON'S _Castle of Indolence_. + + "Again he gazed, 'It is,' said he, 'the same; + There sits he upright in his seat secure, + As one whose conscience is correct and pure.'"--CRABBE. + +The adventurers arrived at Tours, and established themselves there in a +lodging, without any incident worth narrating by the way. + +At Tours Morton had nothing to do but take his pleasure and enjoy +himself. He passed for a young heir; Gawtrey for his tutor--a doctor in +divinity; Birnie for his valet. The task of maintenance fell on Gawtrey, +who hit off his character to a hair; larded his grave jokes with +university scraps of Latin; looked big and well-fed; wore knee-breeches +and a shovel hat; and played whist with the skill of a veteran vicar. By +his science in that game he made, at first, enough; at least, to defray +their weekly expenses. But, by degrees, the good people at Tours, who, +under pretence of health, were there for economy, grew shy of so +excellent a player; and though Gawtrey always swore solemnly that he +played with the most scrupulous honour (an asseveration which Morton, at +least, implicitly believed), and no proof to the contrary was ever +detected, yet a first-rate card-player is always a suspicious character, +unless the losing parties know exactly who he is. The market fell off, +and Gawtrey at length thought it prudent to extend their travels. + +"Ah!" said Mr. Gawtrey, "the world nowadays has grown so ostentatious +that one cannot travel advantageously without a post-chariot and four +horses." At length they found themselves at Milan, which at that time +was one of the El Dorados for gamesters. Here, however, for want of +introductions, Mr. Gawtrey found it difficult to get into society. The +nobles, proud and rich, played high, but were circumspect in their +company; the _bourgeoisie_, industrious and energetic, preserved much of +the old Lombard shrewdness; there were no _tables d'hote_ and public +reunions. Gawtrey saw his little capital daily diminishing, with the +Alps at the rear and Poverty in the van. At length, always on the _qui +vive_, he contrived to make acquaintance with a Scotch family of great +respectability. He effected this by picking up a snuff-box which the +Scotchman had dropped in taking out his handkerchief. This politeness +paved the way to a conversation in which Gawtrey made himself so +agreeable, and talked with such zest of the Modern Athens, and the tricks +practised upon travellers, that he was presented to Mrs. Macgregor; cards +were interchanged, and, as Mr. Gawtrey lived in tolerable style, the +Macgregors pronounced him "a vara genteel mon." Once in the house of a +respectable person, Gawtrey contrived to turn himself round and round, +till he burrowed a hole into the English circle then settled in Milan. +His whist-playing came into requisition, and once more Fortune smiled +upon Skill. + +To this house the pupil one evening accompanied the tutor. When the +whist party, consisting of two tables, was formed, the young man found +himself left out with an old gentleman, who seemed loquacious and good- +natured, and who put many questions to Morton, which he found it +difficult to answer. One of the whist tables was now in a state of +revolution, viz., a lady had cut out and a gentleman cut in, when the +door opened, and Lord Lilburne was announced. + +Mr. Macgregor, rising, advanced with great respect to this personage. + +"I scarcely ventured to hope you would coom, Lord Lilburne, the night is +so cold." + +"You did not allow sufficiently, then, for the dulness of my solitary inn +and the attractions of your circle. Aha! whist, I see." + +"You play sometimes?" + +"Very seldom, now; I have sown all my wild oats, and even the ace of +spades can scarcely dig them out again." + +"Ha! ha! vara gude." + +"I will look on;" and Lord Lilburne drew his chair to the table, exactly +opposite to Mr. Gawtrey. + +The old gentleman turned to Philip. + +"An extraordinary man, Lord Lilburne; you have heard of him, of course?" + +"No, indeed; what of him?" asked the young man, rousing himself. + +"What of him?" said the old gentleman, with a smile; "why the newspapers, +if you ever read them, will tell you enough of the elegant, the witty +Lord Lilburne; a man of eminent talent, though indolent. He was wild in +his youth, as clever men often are; but, on attaining his title and +fortune, and marrying into the family of the then premier, he became more +sedate. They say he might make a great figure in politics if he would. +He has a very high reputation--very. People do say that he is still fond +of pleasure; but that is a common failing amongst the aristocracy. +Morality is only found in the middle classes, young gentleman. It is a +lucky family, that of Lilburne; his sister, Mrs. Beaufort--" + +"Beaufort!" exclaimed Morton, and then muttered to himself, "Ah, true-- +true; I have heard the name of Lilburne before." + +"Do you know the Beauforts? Well, you remember how luckily Robert, +Lilburne's brother-in-law, came into that fine property just as his +predecessor was about to marry a--" + +Morton scowled at his garrulous acquaintance, and stalked abruptly to the +card table. + +Ever since Lord Lilburne had seated himself opposite to Mr. Gawtrey, that +gentleman had evinced a perturbation of manner that became obvious to the +company. He grew deadly pale, his hands trembled, he moved uneasily in +his seat, he missed deal, he trumped his partner's best diamond; finally +he revoked, threw down his money, and said, with a forced smile, "that +the heat of the room overcame him." As he rose Lord Lilburne rose also, +and the eyes of both met. Those of Lilburne were calm, but penetrating +and inquisitive in their gaze; those of Gawtrey were like balls of fire. +He seemed gradually to dilate in his height, his broad chest expanded, he +breathed hard. + +"Ah, Doctor," said Mr. Macgregor, "let me introduce you to Lord +Lilburne." + +The peer bowed haughtily; Mr. Gawtrey did not return the salutation, but +with a sort of gulp, as if he were swallowing some burst of passion, +strode to the fire, and then, turning round, again fixed his gaze upon +the new guest. + +Lilburne, however, who had never lost his self-composure at this strange +rudeness, was now quietly talking with their host. + +"Your Doctor seems an eccentric man--a little absent--learned, I suppose. +Have you been to Como, yet?" + +Mr. Gawtrey remained by the fire beating the devil's tattoo upon the +chimney-piece, and ever and anon turning his glance towards Lilburne, who +seemed to have forgotten his existence. + +Both these guests stayed till the party broke up; Mr. Gawtrey apparently +wishing to outstay Lord Lilburne; for, when the last went down-stairs, +Mr. Gawtrey, nodding to his comrade and giving a hurried bow to the host, +descended also. As they passed the porter's lodge, they found Lilburne +on the step of his carriage; he turned his head abruptly, and again met +Mr. Gawtrey's eye; paused a moment, and whispered over his shoulder: + +"So we remember each other, sir? Let us not meet again; and, on that +condition, bygones are bygones." + +"Scoundrel!" muttered Gawtrey, clenching his fists; but the peer had +sprung into his carriage with a lightness scarcely to be expected from +his lameness, and the wheels whirled within an inch of the soi-disant +doctor's right pump. + +Gawtrey walked on for some moments in great excitement; at length he +turned to his companion,-- + +"Do you guess who Lord Lilburne is? I will tell you my first foe and +Fanny's grandfather! Now, note the justice of Fate: here is this man-- +mark well--this man who commenced life by putting his faults on my own +shoulders! From that little boss has fungused out a terrible hump. This +man who seduced my affianced bride, and then left her whole soul, once +fair and blooming--I swear it--with its leaves fresh from the dews of +heaven, one rank leprosy, this man who, rolling in riches, learned to +cheat and pilfer as a boy learns to dance and play the fiddle, and (to +damn me, whose happiness he had blasted) accused me to the world of his +own crime!--here is this man who has not left off one vice, but added to +those of his youth the bloodless craft of the veteran knave;--here is +this man, flattered, courted, great, marching through lanes of bowing +parasites to an illustrious epitaph and a marble tomb, and I, a rogue +too, if you will, but rogue for my bread, dating from him my errors and +my ruin! I--vagabond--outcast--skulking through tricks to avoid crime-- +why the difference? Because one is born rich and the other poor--because +he has no excuse for crime, and therefore no one suspects him!" + +The wretched man (for at that moment he was wretched) paused breathless +from his passionate and rapid burst, and before him rose in its marble +majesty, with the moon full upon its shining spires--the wonder of Gothic +Italy--the Cathedral Church of Milan. + +"Chafe not yourself at the universal fate," said the young man, with a +bitter smile on his lips and pointing to the cathedral; "I have not lived +long, but I have learned already enough to know this? he who could raise +a pile like that, dedicated to Heaven, would be honoured as a saint; he +who knelt to God by the roadside under a hedge would be sent to the house +of correction as a vagabond. The difference between man and man is +money, and will be, when you, the despised charlatan, and Lilburne, the +honoured cheat, have not left as much dust behind you as will fill a +snuff-box. Comfort yourself, you are in the majority." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + "A desert wild + Before them stretched bare, comfortless, and vast, + With gibbets, bones, and carcasses defiled." + THOMPSON'S _Castle of Indolenece_. + +Mr. Gawtrey did not wish to give his foe the triumph of thinking he had +driven him from Milan; he resolved to stay and brave it out; but when he +appeared in public, he found the acquaintances he had formed bow +politely, but cross to the other side of the way. No more invitations to +tea and cards showered in upon the jolly parson. He was puzzled, for +people, while they shunned him, did not appear uncivil. He found out at +last that a report was circulated that he was deranged; though he could +not trace this rumour to Lord Lilburne, he was at no loss to guess from +whom it had emanated. His own eccentricities, especially his recent +manner at Mr. Macgregor's, gave confirmation to the charge. Again the +funds began to sink low in the canvas bags, and at length, in despair, +Mr. Gawtrey was obliged to quit the field. They returned to France +through Switzerland--a country too poor for gamesters; and ever since the +interview with Lilburne, a great change had come over Gawtrey's gay +spirit: he grew moody and thoughtful, he took no pains to replenish the +common stock, he talked much and seriously to his young friend of poor +Fanny, and owned that he yearned to see her again. The desire to return +to Paris haunted him like a fatality; he saw the danger that awaited him +there, but it only allured him the more, as the candle does the moth +whose wings it has singed. Birnie, who, in all their vicissitudes and +wanderings, their ups and downs, retained the same tacit, immovable +demeanour, received with a sneer the orders at last to march back upon +the French capital. "You would never have left it, if you had taken my +advice," he said, and quitted the room. + +Mr. Gawtrey gazed after him and muttered, "Is the die then cast?" + +"What does he mean?" said Morton. + +"You will know soon," replied Gawtrey, and he followed Birnie; and from +that time the whispered conferences with that person, which had seemed +suspended during their travels, were renewed. + + . . . . . . . . . . + +One morning, three men were seen entering Paris on foot through the Porte +St. Denis. It was a fine day in spring, and the old city looked gay with +its loitering passengers and gaudy shops, and under that clear blue +exhilarating sky so peculiar to France. + +Two of these men walked abreast, the other preceded them a few steps. +The one who went first--thin, pale, and threadbare--yet seemed to suffer +the least from fatigue; he walked with a long, swinging, noiseless +stride, looking to the right and left from the corners of his eyes. Of +the two who followed, one was handsome and finely formed, but of swarthy +complexion, young, yet with a look of care; the other, of sturdy frame, +leaned on a thick stick, and his eyes were gloomily cast down. + +"Philip," said the last, "in coming back to Paris--I feel that I am +coming back to my grave!" + +"Pooh--you were equally despondent in our excursions elsewhere." + +"Because I was always thinking of poor Fanny, and because--because-- +Birnie was ever at me with his horrible temptations!" + +"Birnie! I loathe the man! Will you never get rid of him?" + +"I cannot! Hush! he will hear us. How unlucky we have been! and now +without a son in our pockets--here the dunghill--there the gaol! We are +in his power at last!" + +"His power! what mean you?" + +"What ho! Birnie!" cried Gawtrey, unheeding Morton's question. "Let us +halt and breakfast: I am tired." + +"You forget!--we have no money till we make it," returned Birnie, +coldly.--"Come to the _serrurier's_ he will trust us." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + "Gaunt Beggary and Scorn with many bell-hounds more." + THOMSON'S _Castle of Indolence_. + + "The other was a fell, despiteful fiend."--Ibid. + + "Your happiness behold! then straight a wand + He waved, an anti-magic power that hath + Truth from illusive falsehood to command."--Ibid. + + "But what for us, the children of despair, + Brought to the brink of hell--what hope remains? + RESOLVE, RESOLVE!"--Ibid. + +It may be observed that there are certain years in which in a civilised +country some particular crime comes into vogue. It flares its season, +and then burns out. Thus at one time we have Burking--at another, +Swingism--now, suicide is in vogue--now, poisoning tradespeople in apple- +dumplings--now, little boys stab each other with penknives--now, common +soldiers shoot at their sergeants. Almost every year there is one crime +peculiar to it; a sort of annual which overruns the country but does not +bloom again. Unquestionably the Press has a great deal to do with these +epidemics. Let a newspaper once give an account of some out-of-the-way +atrocity that has the charm of being novel, and certain depraved minds +fasten to it like leeches. They brood over and revolve it--the idea +grows up, a horrid phantasmalian monomania; and all of a sudden, in a +hundred different places, the one seed sown by the leaden types springs +up into foul flowering. + + [An old Spanish writer, treating of the Inquisition, has some very + striking remarks on the kind of madness which, whenever some + terrible notoriety is given to a particular offence, leads persons + of distempered fancy to accuse themselves of it. He observes that + when the cruelties of the Inquisition against the imaginary crime of + sorcery were the most barbarous, this singular frenzy led numbers to + accuse themselves of sorcery. The publication and celebrity of the + crime begat the desire of the crime.] + +But if the first reported aboriginal crime has been attended with +impunity, how much more does the imitative faculty cling to it. Ill- +judged mercy falls, not like dew, but like a great heap of manure, on the +rank deed. + +Now it happened that at the time I write of, or rather a little before, +there had been detected and tried in Paris a most redoubted coiner. He +had carried on the business with a dexterity that won admiration even for +the offence; and, moreover, he had served previously with some +distinction at Austerlitz and Marengo. The consequence was that the +public went with instead of against him, and his sentence was transmuted +to three years' imprisonment by the government. For all governments in +free countries aspire rather to be popular than just. + +No sooner was this case reported in the journals--and even the gravest +took notice, of it (which is not common with the scholastic journals of +France)--no sooner did it make a stir and a sensation, and cover the +criminal with celebrity, than the result became noticeable in a very +large issue of false money. + +Coining in the year I now write of was the fashionable crime. The police +were roused into full vigour: it became known to them that there was one +gang in especial who cultivated this art with singular success. Their +coinage was, indeed, so good, so superior to all their rivals, that it +was often unconsciously preferred by the public to the real mintage. At +the same time they carried on their calling with such secrecy that they +utterly baffled discovery. + +An immense reward was offered by the _bureau_ to any one who would betray +his accomplices, and Monsieur Favart was placed at the head of a +commission of inquiry. This person had himself been a _faux monnoyer_, +and was an adept in the art, and it was he who had discovered the +redoubted coiner who had brought the crime into such notoriety. Monsieur +Favart was a man of the most vigilant acuteness, the most indefatigable +research, and of a courage which; perhaps, is more common than we +suppose. It is a popular error to suppose that courage means courage in +everything. Put a hero on board ship at a five-barred gate, and, if he +is not used to hunting, he will turn pale; put a fox-hunter on one of the +Swiss chasms, over which the mountaineer springs like a roe, and his +knees will knock under him. People are brave in the dangers to which +they accustom themselves, either in imagination or practice. + +Monsieur Favart, then, was a man of the most daring bravery in facing +rogues and cut-throats. He awed them with his very eye; yet he had been +known to have been kicked down-stairs by his wife, and when he was drawn +into the grand army, he deserted the eve of his first battle. Such, as +moralists say, is the inconsistency of man! + +But Monsieur Favart was sworn to trace the coiners, and he had never +failed yet in any enterprise he undertook. One day he presented himself +to his chief with a countenance so elated that that penetrating +functionary said to him at once-- + +"You have heard of our messieurs!" + +"I have: I am to visit them to-night." + +"Bravo! How many men will you take?" + +"From twelve to twenty to leave without on guard. But I must enter +alone. Such is the condition: an accomplice who fears his own throat too +much to be openly a betrayer will introduce me to the house--nay, to the +very room. By his description it is necessary I should know the exact +locale in order to cut off retreat; so to-morrow night I shall surround +the beehive and take the honey." + +"They are desperate fellows, these coiners, always; better be cautious." + +"You forget I was one of them, and know the masonry." About the same +time this conversation was going on at the bureau of the police, in +another part of the town Morton and Gawtrey were seated alone. It is +some weeks since they entered Paris, and spring has mellowed into summer. + +The house in which they lodged was in the lordly quartier of the Faubourg +St. Germain; the neighbouring streets were venerable with the ancient +edifices of a fallen noblesse; but their tenement was in a narrow, dingy +lane, and the building itself seemed beggarly and ruinous. The apartment +was in an attic on the sixth story, and the window, placed at the back of +the lane, looked upon another row of houses of a better description, that +communicated with one of the great streets of the quartier. The space +between their abode and their opposite neighbours was so narrow that the +sun could scarcely pierce between. In the height of summer might be +found there a perpetual shade. + +The pair were seated by the window. Gawtrey, well-dressed, smooth- +shaven, as in his palmy time; Morton, in the same garments with which he +had entered Paris, weather-stained and ragged. Looking towards the +casements of the attic in the opposite house, Gawtrey said, mutteringly, +"I wonder where Birnie has been, and why he has not returned. I grow +suspicious of that man." + +"Suspicious of what?" asked Morton. "Of his honesty? Would he rob +you?" + +"Rob me! Humph--perhaps! but you see I am in Paris, in spite of the +hints of the police; he may denounce me." + +"Why, then, suffer him to lodge away from you?" + +"Why? because, by having separate houses there are two channels of +escape. A dark night, and a ladder thrown across from window to window, +he is with us, or we with him." + +"But wherefore such precautions? You blind--you deceive me; what have +you done?--what is your employment now? You are, mute. Hark you, +Gawtrey. I have pinned my fate to you--I am fallen from hope itself! At +times it almost makes me mad to look back--and yet you do not trust me. +Since your return to Paris you are absent whole nights--often days; you +are moody and thoughtful-yet, whatever your business, it seems to bring +you ample returns." + +"You think that," said Gawtrey, mildly, and with a sort of pity in his +voice; "yet you refuse to take even the money to change those rags." + +"Because I know not how the money was gained. Ah, Gawtrey, I am not too +proud for charity, but I am for--" He checked the word uppermost in his +thoughts, and resumed-- + +"Yes; your occupations seem lucrative. It was but yesterday Birnie gave +me fifty napoleons, for which he said you wished change in silver." + +"Did he? The ras-- Well! and you got change for them?" + +"I know not why, but I refused." + +"That was right, Philip. Do nothing that man tells you." + +"Will you, then, trust me? You are engaged in some horrible traffic! it +may be blood! I am no longer a boy--I have a will of my own--I will not +be silently and blindly entrapped to perdition. If I march thither, it +shall be with my own consent. Trust me, and this day, or we part +to-morrow." + +"Be ruled. Some secrets it is better not to know." + +"It matters not. I have come to my decision--I ask yours." + +Gawtrey paused for some moments in deep thought. At last he lifted his +eyes to Philip, and replied: + +"Well, then, if it must be. Sooner or later it must have been so; and I +want a confidant. You are bold, and will not shrink. You desire to know +my occupation--will you witness it to-night?" + +"I am prepared: to-night!" + +Here a step was heard on the stairs--a knock at the door--and Birnie +entered. + +He drew aside Gawtrey, and whispered him, as usual, for some moments. + +Gawtrey nodded his head, and then said aloud-- + +"To-morrow we shall talk without reserve before my young friend. +To-night he joins us." + +"To-night!--very well," said Birnie, with his cold sneer. He must take +the oath; and you, with your life, will be responsible for his honesty?" + +"Ay! it is the rule." + +"Good-bye, then, till we meet," said Birnie, and withdrew. + +"I wonder," said Gawtrey, musingly, and between his grinded teeth, +"whether I shall ever have a good fair shot at that fellow? Ho! ho!" +and his laugh shook the walls. + +Morton looked hard at Gawtrey, as the latter now sank down in his chair, +and gazed with a vacant stare, that seemed almost to partake of +imbecility, upon the opposite wall. The careless, reckless, jovial +expression, which usually characterised the features of the man, had for +some weeks given place to a restless, anxious, and at times ferocious +aspect, like the beast that first finds a sport while the hounds are yet +afar, and his limbs are yet strong, in the chase which marks him for his +victim, but grows desperate with rage and fear as the day nears its +close, and the death-dogs pant hard upon his track. But at that moment +the strong features, with their gnarled muscle and iron sinews, seemed to +have lost every sign both of passion and the will, and to be locked in a +stolid and dull repose. At last he looked up at Morton, and said, with a +smile like that of an old man in his dotage-- + +"I'm thinking that my life has been one mistake! I had talents--you +would not fancy it--but once I was neither a fool nor a villain! Odd, +isn't it? Just reach me the brandy." + +But Morton, with a slight shudder, turned and left the room. + +He walked on mechanically, and gained, at last, the superb _Quai_ that +borders the Seine; there, the passengers became more frequent; gay +equipages rolled along; the white and lofty mansions looked fair and +stately in the clear blue sky of early summer; beside him flowed the +sparkling river, animated with the painted baths that floated on its +surface: earth was merry and heaven serene his heart was dark through +all: Night within--Morning beautiful without! At last he paused by that +bridge, stately with the statues of those whom the caprice of time +honours with a name; for though Zeus and his gods be overthrown, while +earth exists will live the worship of Dead Men;--the bridge by which you +pass from the royal Tuileries, or the luxurious streets beyond the Rue de +Rivoli, to the Senate of the emancipated People, and the gloomy and +desolate grandeur of the Faubourg St. Germain, in whose venerable haunts +the impoverished descendants of the old feudal tyrants, whom the birth of +the Senate overthrew, yet congregate;--the ghosts of departed powers +proud of the shadows of great names. As the English outcast paused +midway on the bridge, and for the first time lifting his head from his +bosom, gazed around, there broke at once on his remembrance that terrible +and fatal evening, when, hopeless, friendless, desperate, he had begged +for charity of his uncle's hireling, with all the feelings that then (so +imperfectly and lightly touched on in his brief narrative to Gawtrey) had +raged and blackened in his breast, urging to the resolution he had +adopted, casting him on the ominous friendship of the man whose guidance +he even then had suspected and distrusted. The spot in either city had a +certain similitude and correspondence each with each: at the first he had +consummated his despair of human destinies--he had dared to forget the +Providence of God--he had arrogated his fate to himself: by the first +bridge he had taken his resolve; by the last he stood in awe at the +result--stood no less poor--no less abject--equally in rags and squalor; +but was his crest as haughty and his eye as fearless, for was his +conscience as free and his honour as unstained? Those arches of stone-- +those rivers that rolled between, seemed to him then to take a more +mystic and typical sense than belongs to the outer world--they were the +bridges to the Rivers of his Life. Plunged in thoughts so confused and +dim that he could scarcely distinguish, through the chaos, the one streak +of light which, perhaps, heralded the reconstruction or regeneration of +the elements of his soul;--two passengers halted, also by his side. + +"You will be late for the debate," said one of them to the other. "Why +do you stop?" + +"My friend," said the other, "I never pass this spot without recalling +the time when I stood here without a son, or, as I thought, a chance of +one, and impiously meditated self-destruction." + +"You!--now so rich--so fortunate in repute and station--is it possible? +How was it? A lucky chance?--a sudden legacy?" + +"No: Time, Faith, and Energy--the three Friends God has given to the +Poor!" + +The men moved on; but Morton, who had turned his face towards them, +fancied that the last speaker fixed on him his bright, cheerful eye, with +a meaning look; and when the man was gone, he repeated those words, and +hailed them in his heart of hearts as an augury from above. + +Quickly, then, and as if by magic, the former confusion of his mind +seemed to settle into distinct shapes of courage and resolve. "Yes," he +muttered; "I will keep this night's appointment--I will learn the secret +of these men's life. In my inexperience and destitution, I have suffered +myself to be led hitherto into a partnership, if not with vice and crime, +at least with subterfuge and trick. I awake from my reckless boyhood--my +unworthy palterings with my better self. If Gawtrey be as I dread to +find him--if he be linked in some guilty and hateful traffic; with that +loathsome accomplice--I will--" He paused, for his heart whispered, +"Well, and even so,--the guilty man clothed and fed thee!" "I will," +resumed his thought, in answer to his heart--"I will go on my knees to +him to fly while there is yet time, to work--beg--starve--perish even-- +rather than lose the right to look man in the face without a blush, and +kneel to his God without remorse!" + +And as he thus ended, he felt suddenly as if he himself were restored to +the perception and the joy of the Nature and the World around him; the +NIGHT had vanished from his soul--he inhaled the balm and freshness of +the air--he comprehended the delight which the liberal June was +scattering over the earth--he looked above, and his eyes were suffused +with pleasure, at the smile of the soft blue skies. The MORNING became, +as it were, a part of his own being; and he felt that as the world in +spite of the storms is fair, so in spite of evil God is good. He walked +on--he passed the bridge, but his step was no more the same,--he forgot +his rags. Why should he be ashamed? And thus, in the very flush of this +new and strange elation and elasticity of spirit, he came unawares upon a +group of young men, lounging before the porch of one of the chief hotels +in that splendid Rue de Rivoli, wherein Wealth and the English have made +their homes. A groom, mounted, was leading another horse up and down the +road, and the young men were making their comments of approbation upon +both the horses, especially the one led, which was, indeed, of uncommon +beauty and great value. Even Morton, in whom the boyish passion of his +earlier life yet existed, paused to turn his experienced and admiring eye +upon the stately shape and pace of the noble animal, and as he did so, a +name too well remembered came upon his ear. + +"Certainly, Arthur Beaufort is the most enviable fellow in Europe." + +"Why, yes," said another of the young men; "he has plenty of money--is +good-looking, devilish good-natured, clever, and spends like a prince." + +"Has the best horses!" + +"The best luck at roulette!" + +"The prettiest girls in love with him!" + +"And no one enjoys life more. Ah! here he is!" + +The group parted as a light, graceful figure came out of a jeweller's +shop that adjoined the hotel, and halted gaily amongst the loungers. +Morton's first impulse was to hurry from the spot; his second impulse +arrested his step, and, a little apart, and half-hid beneath one of the +arches of the colonnade which adorns the street, the Outcast gazed upon. +the Heir. There was no comparison in the natural personal advantages of +the two young men; for Philip Morton, despite all the hardships of his +rough career, had now grown up and ripened into a rare perfection of form +and feature. His broad chest, his erect air, his lithe and symmetrical +length of limb, united, happily, the attributes of activity and strength; +and though there was no delicacy of youthful bloom upon his dark cheek, +and though lines which should have come later marred its smoothness with +the signs of care and thought, yet an expression of intelligence and +daring, equally beyond his years, and the evidence of hardy, abstemious, +vigorous health, served to show to the full advantage the outline of +features which, noble and regular, though stern and masculine, the artist +might have borrowed for his ideal of a young Spartan arming for his first +battle. Arthur, slight to feebleness, and with the paleness, partly of +constitution, partly of gay excess, on his fair and clear complexion, had +features far less symmetrical and impressive than his cousin: but what +then? All that are bestowed by elegance of dress, the refinements of +luxurious habit, the nameless grace that comes from a mind and a manner +polished, the one by literary culture, the other by social intercourse, +invested the person of the heir with a fascination that rude Nature alone +ever fails to give. And about him there was a gaiety, an airiness of +spirit, an atmosphere of enjoyment which bespoke one who is in love with +life. + +"Why, this is lucky! I'm so glad to see you all!" said Arthur Beaufort, +with that silver-ringing tone and charming smile which are to the happy +spring of man what its music and its sunshine are to the spring of earth. +"You must dine with me at Verey's. I want something to rouse me to-day; +for I did not get home from the _Salon_* till four this morning." + + *[The most celebrated gaming-house in Paris in the day before + gaming-houses were suppressed by the well-directed energy of the + government.] + +"But you won?" + +"Yes, Marsden. Hang it! I always win: I who could so well afford to +lose: I'm quite ashamed of my luck!" + +"It is easy to spend what one wins," observed Mr. Marsden, sententiously; +"and I see you have been at the jeweller's! A present for Cecile? Well, +don't blush, my dear fellow. What is life without women?" + +"And wine?" said a second. "And play?" said a third. "And wealth?" said +a fourth. + +"And you enjoy them all! Happy fellow!" said a fifth. The Outcast +pulled his hat over his brows, and walked away. + +"This dear Paris," said Beaufort, as his eye carelessly and unconsciously +followed the dark form retreating through the arches;--"this dear Paris! +I must make the most of it while I stay! I have only been here a few +weeks, and next week I must go." + +"Pooh--your health is better: you don't look like the same man." + +"You think so really? Still I don't know: the doctors say that I must +either go to the German waters--the season is begun--or--" + +"Or what?" + +"Live less with such pleasant companions, my dear fellow! But as you +say, what is life without--" + +"Women!" + +"Wine!" + +"Play!" + +"Wealth!" + +"Ha! ha. 'Throw physic to the dogs: I'll none of it!'" + +And Arthur leaped lightly on his saddle, and as he rode gaily on, humming +the favourite air of the last opera, the hoofs of his horse splashed the +mud over a foot-passenger halting at the crossing. Morton checked the +fiery exclamation rising to his lips; and gazing after the brilliant form +that hurried on towards the Champs Elysees, his eye caught the statues on +the bridge, and a voice, as of a cheering angel, whispered again to his +heart, "TIME, FAITH, ENERGY!" + +The expression of his countenance grew calm at once, and as he continued +his rambles it was with a mind that, casting off the burdens of the past, +looked serenely and steadily on the obstacles and hardships of the +future. We have seen that a scruple of conscience or of pride, not +without its nobleness, had made him refuse the importunities of Gawtrey +for less sordid raiment; the same feeling made it his custom to avoid +sharing the luxurious and dainty food with which Gawtrey was wont to +regale himself. For that strange man, whose wonderful felicity of +temperament and constitution rendered him, in all circumstances, keenly +alive to the hearty and animal enjoyments of life, would still emerge, as +the day declined, from their wretched apartment, and, trusting to his +disguises, in which indeed he possessed a masterly art, repair to one of +the better description of restaurants, and feast away his cares for the +moment. William Gawtrey would not have cared three straws for the curse +of Damocles. The sword over his head would never have spoiled his +appetite! He had lately, too, taken to drinking much more deeply than he +had been used to do--the fine intellect of the man was growing thickened +and dulled; and this was a spectacle that Morton could not bear to +contemplate. Yet so great was Gawtrey's vigour of health, that, after +draining wine and spirits enough to have despatched a company of fox- +hunters, and after betraying, sometimes in uproarious glee, sometimes in +maudlin self-bewailings, that he himself was not quite invulnerable to +the thyrsus of the god, he would--on any call on his energies, or +especially before departing on those mysterious expeditions which kept +him from home half, and sometimes all, the night--plunge his head into +cold water--drink as much of the lymph as a groom would have shuddered to +bestow on a horse--close his eyes in a doze for half an hour, and wake, +cool, sober, and collected, as if he had lived according to the precepts +of Socrates or Cornaro! + +But to return to Morton. It was his habit to avoid as much as possible +sharing the good cheer of his companion; and now, as he entered the, +Champs Elysees, he saw a little family, consisting of a young mechanic, +his wife, and two children, who, with that love of harmless recreation +which yet characterises the French, had taken advantage of a holiday in +the craft, and were enjoying their simple meal under the shadow of the +trees. Whether in hunger or in envy, Morton paused and contemplated the +happy group. Along the road rolled the equipages and trampled the steeds +of those to whom all life is a holiday. There, was Pleasure--under those +trees was Happiness. One of the children, a little boy of about six +years old, observing the attitude and gaze of the pausing wayfarer, ran +to him, and holding up a fragment of a coarse kind of cake, said to him, +willingly, "Take it--I have had enough!" The child reminded Morton of +his brother--his heart melted within him--he lifted the young Samaritan +in his arms, and as he kissed him, wept. + +The mother observed and rose also. She laid her hand on his own: "Poor +boy! why do you weep?--can we relieve you?" + +Now that bright gleam of human nature, suddenly darting across the sombre +recollections and associations of his past life, seemed to Morton as if +it came from Heaven, in approval and in blessing of this attempt at +reconciliation to his fate. + +"I thank you," said he, placing the child on the ground, and passing his +hand over his eyes,--"I thank you--yes! Let me sit down amongst you." +And he sat down, the child by his side, and partook of their fare, and +was merry with them,--the proud Philip!--had he not begun to discover the +"precious jewel" in the "ugly and venomous" Adversity? + +The mechanic, though a gay fellow on the whole, was not without some of +that discontent of his station which is common with his class; he vented +it, however, not in murmurs, but in jests. He was satirical on the +carriages and the horsemen that passed; and, lolling on the grass, +ridiculed his betters at his ease. + +"Hush!" said his wife, suddenly; "here comes Madame de Merville;" and +rising as she spoke, she made a respectful inclination of her head +towards an open carriage that was passing very slowly towards the town. + +"Madame de Merville!" repeated the husband, rising also, and lifting his +cap from his head. "Ah! I have nothing to say against her!" + +Morton looked instinctively towards the carriage, and saw a fair +countenance turned graciously to answer the silent salutations of the +mechanic and his wife--a countenance that had long haunted his dreams, +though of late it had faded away beneath harsher thoughts--the +countenance of the stranger whom he had seen at the bureau of Gawtrey, +when that worthy personage had borne a more mellifluous name. He started +and changed colour: the lady herself now seemed suddenly to recognise +him; for their eyes met, and she bent forward eagerly. She pulled the +check-string--the carriage halted--she beckoned to the mechanic's wife, +who went up to the roadside. + +"I worked once for that lady," said the man with a tone of feeling; "and +when my wife fell ill last winter she paid the doctors. Ah, she is an +angel of charity and kindness!" + +Morton scarcely heard this eulogium, for he observed, by something eager +and inquisitive in the face of Madame de Merville, and by the sudden +manner in which the mechanic's helpmate turned her head to the spot in +which he stood, that he was the object of their conversation. Once more +he became suddenly aware of his ragged dress, and with a natural shame--a +fear that charity might be extended to him from her--he muttered an +abrupt farewell to the operative, and without another glance at the +carriage, walked away. + +Before he had got many paces, the wife however came up to him, +breathless. "Madame de Merville would speak to you, sir!" she said, with +more respect than she had hitherto thrown into her manner. Philip paused +an instant, and again strode on-- + +"It must be some mistake," he said, hurriedly: "I have no right to expect +such an honour." + +He struck across the road, gained the opposite side, and had vanished +from Madame de Merville's eyes, before the woman regained the carriage. +But still that calm, pale, and somewhat melancholy face, presented itself +before him; and as he walked again through the town, sweet and gentle +fancies crowded confusedly on his heart. On that soft summer day, +memorable for so many silent but mighty events in that inner life which +prepares the catastrophes of the outer one; as in the region, of which +Virgil has sung, the images of men to be born hereafter repose or glide-- +on that soft summer day, he felt he had reached the age when Youth begins +to clothe in some human shape its first vague ideal of desire and love. + +In such thoughts, and still wandering, the day wore away, till he found +himself in one of the lanes that surround that glittering Microcosm of +the vices, the frivolities, the hollow show, and the real beggary of the +gay City--the gardens and the galleries of the Palais Royal. Surprised +at the lateness of the hour, it was then on the stroke of seven, he was +about to return homewards, when the loud voice of Gawtrey sounded behind, +and that personage, tapping him on the back, said,-- + +"Hollo, my young friend, well met! This will be a night of trial to you. +Empty stomachs produce weak nerves. Come along! you must dine with me. +A good dinner and a bottle of old wine--come! nonsense, I say you shall +come! _Vive la joie_!" + +While speaking, he had linked his arm in Morton's, and hurried him on +several paces in spite of his struggles; but just as the words _Vive la +joie_ left his lips, he stood still and mute, as if a thunderbolt had +fallen at his feet; and Morton felt that heavy arm shiver and tremble +like a leaf. He looked up, and just at the entrance of that part of the +Palais Royal in which are situated the restaurants of Verey and Vefour, +he saw two men standing but a few paces before them, and gazing full on +Gawtrey and himself. + +"It is my evil genius," muttered Gawtrey, grinding his teeth. + +"And mine!" said Morton. + +The younger of the two men thus apostrophised made a step towards Philip, +when his companion drew him back and whispered,--"What are you about--do +you know that young man?" + +"He is my cousin; Philip Beaufort's natural son!" + +"Is he? then discard him for ever. He is with the most dangerous knave +in Europe!" + +As Lord Lilburne--for it was he--thus whispered his nephew, Gawtrey +strode up to him; and, glaring full in his face, said in a deep and +hollow tone,--"There is a hell, my lord,--I go to drink to our meeting!" +Thus saying, he took off his hat with a ceremonious mockery, and +disappeared within the adjoining restaurant, kept by Vefour. + +"A hell!" said Lilburne, with his frigid smile; "the rogue's head runs +upon gambling-houses!" + +"And I have suffered Philip again to escape me," said Arthur, in +self-reproach: for while Gawtrey had addressed Lord Lilburne, Morton had +plunged back amidst the labyrinth of alleys. "How have I kept my oath?" + +"Come! your guests must have arrived by this time. As for that wretched +young man, depend upon it that he is corrupted body and soul." + +"But he is my own cousin." + + + +"Pooh! there is no relationship in natural children: besides, he will +find you out fast enough. Ragged claimants are not long too proud to +beg." + +"You speak in earnest?" said Arthur, irresolutely. "Ay! trust my +experience of the world--Allons!" + +And in a _cabinet_ of the very _restaurant_, adjoining that in which the +solitary Gawtrey gorged his conscience, Lilburne, Arthur, and their gay +friends, soon forgetful of all but the roses of the moment, bathed their +airy spirits in the dews of the mirthful wine. Oh, extremes of life! +Oh, Night! Oh, Morning! + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +"Meantime a moving scene was open laid, +That lazar house."--THOMSON'S _Castle of Indolence_. + +It was near midnight. At the mouth of the lane in which Gawtrey resided +there stood four men. Not far distant, in the broad street at angles +with the lane, were heard the wheels of carriages and the sound of music. +A lady, fair in form, tender of heart, stainless in repute, was receiving +her friends! + +"Monsieur Favart," said one of the men to the smallest of the four; "you +understand the conditions--20,000 francs and a free pardon?" + +"Nothing more reasonable--it is understood. Still I confess that I +should like to have my men close at hand. I am not given to fear; but +this is a dangerous experiment." + +"You knew the danger beforehand and subscribed to it: you must enter +alone with me, or not at all. Mark you, the men are sworn to murder him +who betrays them. Not for twenty times 20,000 francs would I have them +know me as the informer. My life were not worth a day's purchase. Now, +if you feel secure in your disguise, all is safe. You will have seen +them at their work--you will recognise their persons--you can depose +against them at the trial--I shall have time to quit France." + +"Well, well! as you please." + +"Mind, you must wait in the vault with them till they separate. We have +so planted your men that whatever street each of the gang takes in going +home, he can be seized quietly and at once. The bravest and craftiest of +all, who, though he has but just joined, is already their captain;--him, +the man I told you of, who lives in the house, you must take after his +return, in his bed. It is the sixth story to the right, remember: here +is the key to his door. He is a giant in strength; and will never be +taken alive if up and armed." + +"Ah, I comprehend!--Gilbert" (and Favart turned to one of his companions +who had not yet spoken) "take three men besides yourself, according to +the directions I gave you,--the porter will admit you, that's arranged. +Make no noise. If I don't return by four o'clock, don't wait for me, but +proceed at once. Look well to your primings. Take him alive, if +possible--at the worst, dead. And now--anon ami--lead on!" + +The traitor nodded, and walked slowly down the street. Favart, pausing, +whispered hastily to the man whom he had called Gilbert,-- + +"Follow me close--get to the door of the cellar-place eight men within +hearing of my whistle--recollect the picklocks, the axes. If you hear +the whistle, break in; if not, I'm safe, and the first orders to seize +the captain in his room stand good." + +So saying, Favart strode after his guide. The door of a large, but ill- +favoured-looking house stood ajar--they entered-passed unmolested through +a court-yard--descended some stairs; the guide unlocked the door of a +cellar, and took a dark lantern from under his cloak. As he drew up the +slide, the dim light gleamed on barrels and wine-casks, which appeared to +fill up the space. Rolling aside one of these, the guide lifted a trap- +door, and lowered his lantern. "Enter," said he; and the two men +disappeared. + + . . . . . . . . + +The coiners were at their work. A man, seated on a stool before a desk, +was entering accounts in a large book. That man was William Gawtrey. +While, with the rapid precision of honest mechanics, the machinery of the +Dark Trade went on in its several departments. Apart--alone--at the foot +of a long table, sat Philip Morton. The truth had exceeded his darkest +suspicions. He had consented to take the oath not to divulge what was to +be given to his survey; and when, led into that vault, the bandage was +taken from his eyes, it was some minutes before he could fully comprehend +the desperate and criminal occupations of the wild forms amidst which +towered the burly stature of his benefactor. As the truth slowly grew +upon him, he shrank from the side of Gawtrey; but, deep compassion for +his friend's degradation swallowing up the horror of the trade, he flung +himself on one of the rude seats, and felt that the bond between them was +indeed broken, and that the next morning he should be again alone in the +world. Still, as the obscene jests, the fearful oaths, that from time to +time rang through the vault, came on his ear, he cast his haughty eye in +such disdain over the groups, that Gawtrey, observing him, trembled for +his safety; and nothing but Philip's sense of his own impotence, and the +brave, not timorous, desire not to perish by such hands, kept silent the +fiery denunciations of a nature still proud and honest, that quivered on +his lips. All present were armed with pistols and cutlasses except +Morton, who suffered the weapons presented to him to lie unheeded on the +table. + +"_Courage, mes amis_!" said Gawtrey, closing his book,--"_Courage_!"--a +few months more, and we shall have made enough to retire upon, and enjoy +ourselves for the rest of the days. Where is Birnie?" + +"Did he not tell you?" said one of the artisans, looking up. "He has +found out the cleverest hand in France, the very fellow who helped +Bouchard in all his five-franc pieces. He has promised to bring him +to-night." + +"Ay, I remember," returned Gawtrey, "he told me this morning,--he is a +famous decoy!" + +"I think so, indeed!" quoth a coiner; "for he caught you, the best head +to our hands that ever _les industriels_ were blessed with--_sacre +fichtre_!" + +"Flatterer!" said Gawtrey, coming from the desk to the table, and +pouring out wine from one of the bottles into a huge flagon--"To your +healths!" + +Here the door slided back, and Birnie glided in. + +"Where is your booty, _mon brave_?" said Gawtrey. "We only coin +money; you coin men, stamp with your own seal, and send them current to +the devil!" + +The coiners, who liked Birnie's ability (for the ci-devant engraver was +of admirable skill in their craft), but who hated his joyless manners, +laughed at this taunt, which Birnie did not seem to heed, except by a +malignant gleam of his dead eye. + +"If you mean the celebrated coiner, Jacques Giraumont, he waits without. +You know our rules. I cannot admit him without leave." + +"_Bon_! we give it,--eh, messieurs?" said Gawtrey. "Ay-ay," cried +several voices. "He knows the oath, and will hear the penalty." + +"Yes, he knows the oath," replied Birnie, and glided back. + +In a moment more he returned with a small man in a mechanic's blouse. +The new comer wore the republican beard and moustache--of a sandy grey-- +his hair was the same colour; and a black patch over one eye increased +the ill-favoured appearance of his features. + +"_Diable_! Monsieur Giraumont! but you are more like Vulcan than +Adonis!" said Gawtrey. + +"I don't know anything about Vulcan, but I know how to make five-franc +pieces," said Monsieur Giraumont, doggedly. + +"Are you poor?" + +"As a church mouse! The only thing belonging to a church, since the +Bourbons came back, that is poor!" + +At this sally, the coiners, who had gathered round the table, uttered the +shout with which, in all circumstances, Frenchmen receive a _bon mot_. + +"Humph!" said Gawtrey. "Who responds with his own life for your +fidelity?" + +"I," said Birnie. + +"Administer the oath to him." + +Suddenly four men advanced, seized the visitor, and bore him from the +vault into another one within. After a few moments they returned. + +"He has taken the oath and heard the penalty." + +"Death to yourself, your wife, your son, and your grandson, if you betray +us!" + +"I have neither son nor grandson; as for my wife, Monsieur le Capitaine, +you offer a bribe instead of a threat when you talk of her death." + +"Sacre! but you will be an addition to our circle, _mon brave_!" said +Gawtrey, laughing; while again the grim circle shouted applause. + +"But I suppose you care for your own life." + +"Otherwise I should have preferred starving to coming here," answered the +laconic neophyte. + +"I have done with you. Your health!" + +On this the coiners gathered round Monsieur Giraumont, shook him by the +hand, and commenced many questions with a view to ascertain his skill. + +"Show me your coinage first; I see you use both the die and the furnace. +Hem! this piece is not bad--you have struck it from an iron die?--right +--it makes the impression sharper than plaster of Paris. But you take +the poorest and the most dangerous part of the trade in taking the home +market. I can put you in a way to make ten times as much--and with +safety. Look at this!"--and Monsieur Giraumont took a forged Spanish +dollar from his pocket, so skilfully manufactured that the connoisseurs +were lost in admiration--"you may pass thousands of these all over +Europe, except France, and who is ever to detect you? But it will +require better machinery than you have here." + +Thus conversing, Monsieur Giraumont did not perceive that Mr. Gawtrey had +been examining him very curiously and minutely. But Birnie had noted +their chief's attention, and once attempted to join his new ally, when +Gawtrey laid his hand on his shoulder, and stopped him. + +"Do not speak to your friend till I bid you, or--" lie stopped short, and +touched his pistols. + +Birnie grew a shade more pale, but replied with his usual sneer: + +"Suspicious!--well, so much the better!" and seating himself carelessly +at the table, lighted his pipe. + +"And now, Monsieur Giraumont," said Gawtrey, as he took the head of the +table, "come to my right hand. A half-holiday in your honour. Clear +these infernal instruments; and more wine, mes amis!" + +The party arranged themselves at the table. Among the desperate there is +almost invariably a tendency to mirth. A solitary ruffian, indeed, is +moody, but a gang of ruffians are jovial. The coiners talked and laughed +loud. Mr. Birnie, from his dogged silence, seemed apart from the rest, +though in the centre. For in a noisy circle a silent tongue builds a +wall round its owner. But that respectable personage kept his furtive +watch upon Giraumont and Gawtrey, who appeared talking together, very +amicably. The younger novice of that night, equally silent, seated +towards the bottom of the table, was not less watchful than Birnie. An +uneasy, undefinable foreboding had come over him since the entrance of +Monsieur Giraumont; this had been increased by the manner of Mr. Gawtrey. +His faculty of observation, which was very acute, had detected something +false in the chief's blandness to their guest--something dangerous in the +glittering eye that Gawtrey ever, as he spoke to Giraumont, bent on that +person's lips as he listened to his reply. For, whenever William Gawtrey +suspected a man, he watched not his eyes, but his lips. + +Waked from his scornful reverie, a strange spell chained Morton's +attention to the chief and the guest, and he bent forward, with parted +mouth and straining ear, to catch their conversation. + +"It seems to me a little strange," said Mr. Gawtrey, raising his voice so +as to be heard by the party, "that a coiner so dexterous as Monsieur +Giraumont should not be known to any of us except our friend Birnie." + +"Not at all," replied Giraumont; "I worked only with Bouchard and two +others since sent to the galleys. We were but a small fraternity-- +everything has its commencement." + +"_C'est juste: buvez, donc, cher ami_!" + +The wine circulated. Gawtrey began again: + +"You have had a bad accident, seemingly, Monsieur Giraumont. How did you +lose your eye?" + +"In a scuffle with the _gens d' armes_ the night Bouchard was taken and I +escaped. Such misfortunes are on the cards." + +"C'est juste: buvez, donc, Monsieur Giraumont!" + +Again there was a pause, and again Gawtrey's deep voice was heard. + +"You wear a wig, I think, Monsieur Giraumont? To judge by your eyelashes +your own hair has been a handsomer colour." + +"We seek disguise, not beauty, my host; and the police have sharp eyes." + +"_C'est juste: buvez, donc-vieux Renard_! When did we two meet last?" + +"Never, that I know of." + +"_Ce n'est pas vrai! buvez, donc, MONSIEUR FAVART_!" + +At the sound of that name the company started in dismay and confusion, +and the police officer, forgetting himself for the moment, sprang from +his seat, and put his right hand into his blouse. + +"Ho, there!--treason!" cried Gawtrey, in a voice of thunder; and he +caught the unhappy man by the throat. It was the work of a moment. +Morton, where he sat, beheld a struggle--he heard a death-cry. He saw +the huge form of the master-coiner rising above all the rest, as +cutlasses gleamed and eyes sparkled round. He saw the quivering and +powerless frame of the unhappy guest raised aloft in those mighty arms, +and presently it was hurled along the table-bottles crashing--the board +shaking beneath its weight--and lay before the very eyes of Morton, a +distorted and lifeless mass. At the same instant Gawtrey sprang upon the +table, his black frown singling out from the group the ashen, cadaverous +face of the shrinking traitor. Birnie had darted from the table--he was +half-way towards the sliding door--his face, turned over his shoulder, +met the eyes of the chief. + +"Devil!" shouted Gawtrey, in his terrible voice, which the echoes of the +vault gave back from side to side. "Did I not give thee up my soul that +thou mightest not compass my death? Hark ye! thus die my slavery and all +our secrets!" The explosion of his pistol half swallowed up the last +word, and with a single groan the traitor fell on the floor, pierced +through the brain--then there was a dead and grim hush as the smoke +rolled slowly along the roof of the dreary vault. + +Morton sank back on his seat, and covered his face with his hands. The +last seal on the fate of THE MAN OF CRIME was set; the last wave in the +terrible and mysterious tide of his destiny had dashed on his soul to the +shore whence there is no return. Vain, now and henceforth, the humour, +the sentiment, the kindly impulse, the social instincts which had +invested that stalwart shape with dangerous fascination, which had +implied the hope of ultimate repentance, of redemption even in this +world. The HOUR and the CIRCUMSTANCE had seized their prey; and the +self-defence, which a lawless career rendered a necessity, left the +eternal die of blood upon his doom! + +"Friends, I have saved you," said Gawtrey, slowly gazing on the corpse of +his second victim, while he turned the pistol to his belt. "I have not +quailed before this man's eye" (and he spurned the clay of the officer as +he spoke with a revengeful scorn) "without treasuring up its aspect in my +heart of hearts. I knew him when he entered--knew him through his +disguise--yet, faith, it was a clever one! Turn up his face and gaze on +him now; he will never terrify us again, unless there be truth in ghosts!" + +Murmuring and tremulous the coiners scrambled on the table and examined +the dead man. From this task Gawtrey interrupted them, for his quick eye +detected, with the pistols under the policeman's blouse, a whistle of +metal of curious construction, and he conjectured at once that danger was +at hand. + +"I have saved you, I say, but only for the hour. This deed cannot sleep. +See, he had help within call! The police knew where to look for their +comrade--we are dispersed. Each for himself. Quick, divide the spoils! +_Sauve qui peat_!" + +Then Morton heard where he sat, his hands still clasped before his face, +a confused hubbub of voices, the jingle of money, the scrambling of feet, +the creaking of doors. All was silent! + +A strong grasp drew his hands from his eyes. + +"Your first scene of life against life," said Gawtrey's voice, which +seemed fearfully changed to the ear that beard it. "Bah! what would you +think of a battle? Come to our eyrie: the carcasses are gone." + +Morton looked fearfully round the vault. He and Gawtrey were alone. His +eyes sought the places where the dead had lain--they were removed--no +vestige of the deeds, not even a drop of blood. + +"Come, take up your cutlass, come!" repeated the voice of the chief, as +with his dim lantern--now the sole light of the vault--he stood in the +shadow of the doorway. + +Morton rose, took up the weapon mechanically, and followed that terrible +guide, mute and unconscious, as a Soul follows a Dream through the House +of Sleep! + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + "Sleep no more!"--_Macbeth_ + +After winding through gloomy and labyrinthine passages, which conducted +to a different range of cellars from those entered by the unfortunate +Favart, Gawtrey emerged at the foot of a flight of stairs, which, dark, +narrow, and in many places broken, had been probably appropriated to +servants of the house in its days of palmier glory. By these steps the +pair regained their attic. Gawtrey placed the lantern on the table and +seated himself in silence. Morton, who had recovered his self-possession +and formed his resolution, gazed on him for some moments, equally +taciturn. At length he spoke: + +"Gawtrey!" + +"I bade you not call me by that name," said the coiner; for we need +scarcely say that in his new trade he had assumed a new appellation. + +"It is the least guilty one by which I have known you," returned Morton, +firmly. "It is for the last time I call you by it! I demanded to see by +what means one to whom I had entrusted my fate supported himself. I have +seen," continued the young man, still firmly, but with a livid cheek and +lip, "and the tie between us is rent for ever. Interrupt me not! it is +not for me to blame you. I have eaten of your bread and drunk of your +cup. Confiding in you too blindly, and believing that you were at least +free from those dark and terrible crimes for which there is no expiation +--at least in this life--my conscience seared by distress, my very soul +made dormant by despair, I surrendered myself to one leading a career +equivocal, suspicious, dishonourable perhaps, but still not, as I +believed, of atrocity and bloodshed. I wake at the brink of the abyss-- +my mother's hand beckons to me from the grave; I think I hear her voice +while I address you--I recede while it is yet time--we part, and for +ever!" + +Gawtrey, whose stormy passion was still deep upon his soul, had listened +hitherto in sullen and dogged silence, with a gloomy frown on his knitted +brow; he now rose with an oath-- + +"Part! that I may let loose on the world a new traitor! Part! when you +have seen me fresh from an act that, once whispered, gives me to the +guillotine! Part--never! at least alive!" + +"I have said it," said Morton, folding his arms calmly; I say it to your +face, though I might part from you in secret. Frown not on me, man of +blood! I am fearless as yourself! In another minute I am gone." + +"Ah! is it so?" said Gawtrey; and glancing round the room, which +contained two doors, the one concealed by the draperies of a bed, +communicating with the stairs by which they had entered, the other with +the landing of the principal and common flight: he turned to the former, +within his reach, which he locked, and put the key into his pocket, and +then, throwing across the latter a heavy swing bar, which fell into its +socket with a harsh noise,--before the threshold he placed his vast bulk, +and burst into his loud, fierce laugh: "Ho! ho! Slave and fool, once +mine, you were mine body and soul for ever!" + +"Tempter, I defy you! stand back!" And, firm and dauntless, Morton laid +his hand on the giant's vest. + +Gawtrey seemed more astonished than enraged. He looked hard at his +daring associate, on whose lip the down was yet scarcely dark. + +"Boy," said he, "off! do not rouse the devil in me again! I could crush +you with a hug." + +"My soul supports my body, and I am armed," said Morton, laying hand on +his cutlass. "But you dare not harm me, nor I you; bloodstained as you +are, you gave me shelter and bread; but accuse me not that I will save my +soul while it is yet time!--Shall my mother have blessed me in vain upon +her death-bed?" + +Gawtrey drew back, and Morton, by a sudden impulse, grasped his hand. + +"Oh! hear me-hear me!" he cried, with great emotion. "Abandon this +horrible career; you have been decoyed and betrayed to it by one who can +deceive or terrify you no more! Abandon it, and I will never desert you. +For her sake--for your Fanny's sake--pause, like me, before the gulf +swallow us. Let us fly!--far to the New World--to any land where our +thews and sinews, our stout hands and hearts, can find an honest mart. +Men, desperate as we are, have yet risen by honest means. Take her, your +orphan, with us. We will work for her, both of us. Gawtrey! hear me. +It is not my voice that speaks to you--it is your good angel's!" + +Gawtrey fell back against the wall, and his chest heaved. + +"Morton," he said, with choked and tremulous accent, "go now; leave me to +my fate! I have sinned against you--shamefully sinned. It seemed to me +so sweet to have a friend; in your youth and character of mind there was +so much about which the tough strings of my heart wound themselves, that +I could not bear to lose you--to suffer you to know me for what I was. +I blinded--I deceived you as to my past deeds; that was base in me: but I +swore to my own heart to keep you unexposed to every danger, and free +from every vice that darkened my own path. I kept that oath till this +night, when, seeing that you began to recoil from me, and dreading that +you should desert me, I thought to bind you to me for ever by implicating +you in this fellowship of crime. I am punished, and justly. Go, I +repeat--leave me to the fate that strides nearer and nearer to me day by +day. You are a boy still--I am no longer young. Habit is a second +nature. Still--still I could repent--I could begin life again. But +repose!--to look back--to remember--to be haunted night and day with +deeds that shall meet me bodily and face to face on the last day--" + +"Add not to the spectres! Come--fly this night--this hour!" + +Gawtrey paused, irresolute and wavering, when at that moment he heard +steps on the stairs below. He started--as starts the boar caught in his +lair--and listened, pale and breathless. + +"Hush!--they are on us!--they come!" as he whispered, the key from +without turned in the wards--the door shook. "Soft! the bar preserves us +both--this way." And the coiner crept to the door of the private stairs. +He unlocked and opened it cautiously. A man sprang through the aperture: + +"Yield!--you are my prisoner!" + +"Never!" cried Gawtrey, hurling back the intruder, and clapping to the +door, though other and stout men were pressing against it with all their +power. + +"Ho! ho! Who shall open the tiger's cage?" + +At both doors now were heard the sound of voices. "Open in the king's +name, or expect no mercy!" + +"Hist!" said Gawtrey. "One way yet--the window--the rope." + +Morton opened the casement--Gawtrey uncoiled the rope. The dawn was +breaking; it was light in the streets, but all seemed quiet without. The +doors reeled and shook beneath the pressure of the pursuers. Gawtrey +flung the rope across the street to the opposite parapet; after two or +three efforts, the grappling-hook caught firm hold--the perilous path was +made. + +"On!--quick!--loiter not!" whispered Gawtrey; "you are active--it seems +more dangerous than it is--cling with both hands-shut your eyes. When on +the other side--you see the window of Birnie's room,--enter it--descend +the stairs--let yourself out, and you are safe." + +"Go first," said Morton, in the same tone: "I will not leave you now: you +will be longer getting across than I shall. I will keep guard till you +are over." + +"Hark! hark!--are you mad? You keep guard! what is your strength to +mine? Twenty men shall not move that door, while my weight is against +it. Quick, or you destroy us both! Besides, you will hold the rope for +me, it may not be strong enough for my bulk in itself. Stay!--stay one +moment. If you escape, and I fall--Fanny--my father, he will take care +of her,--you remember--thanks! Forgive me all! Go; that's right!" + +With a firm impulse, Morton threw himself on the dreadful bridge; it +swung and crackled at his weight. Shifting his grasp rapidly--holding +his breath--with set teeth-with closed eyes--he moved on--he gained the +parapet--he stood safe on the opposite side. And now, straining his eyes +across, he saw through the open casement into the chamber he had just +quitted. Gawtrey was still standing against the door to the principal +staircase, for that of the two was the weaker and the more assailed. +Presently the explosion of a fire-arm was heard; they had shot through +the panel. Gawtrey seemed wounded, for he staggered forward, and uttered +a fierce cry; a moment more, and he gained the window--he seized the +rope--he hung over the tremendous depth! Morton knelt by the parapet, +holding the grappling-hook in its place, with convulsive grasp, and +fixing his eyes, bloodshot with fear and suspense, on the huge bulk that +clung for life to that slender cord! + +"Le voiles! Le voiles!" cried a voice from the opposite side. Morton +raised his gaze from Gawtrey; the casement was darkened by the forms of +his pursuers--they had burst into the room--an officer sprang upon the +parapet, and Gawtrey, now aware of his danger, opened his eyes, and as he +moved on, glared upon the foe. The policeman deliberately raised his +pistol--Gawtrey arrested himself--from a wound in his side the blood +trickled slowly and darkly down, drop by drop, upon the stones below; +even the officers of law shuddered as they eyed him--his hair bristling +--his cheek white--his lips drawn convulsively from his teeth, and his +eyes glaring from beneath the frown of agony and menace in which yet +spoke the indomitable power and fierceness of the man. His look, so +fixed--so intense--so stern, awed the policeman; his hand trembled as he +fired, and the ball struck the parapet an inch below the spot where +Morton knelt. An indistinct, wild, gurgling sound-half-laugh, half-yell +of scorn and glee, broke from Gawtrey's lips. He swung himself on--near +--near--nearer--a yard from the parapet. + +"You are saved!" cried Morton; when at the moment a volley burst from +the fatal casement--the smoke rolled over both the fugitives--a groan, or +rather howl, of rage, and despair, and agony, appalled even the hardest +on whose ear it came. Morton sprang to his feet and looked below. He +saw on the rugged stones far down, a dark, formless, motionless mass--the +strong man of passion and levity--the giant who had played with life and +soul, as an infant with the baubles that it prizes and breaks--was what +the Caesar and the leper alike are, when the clay is without God's +breath--what glory, genius, power, and beauty, would be for ever and for +ever, if there were no God! + +"There is another!" cried the voice of one of the pursuers. "Fire!" + +"Poor Gawtrey!" muttered Philip. "I will fulfil your last wish;" and +scarcely conscious of the bullet that whistled by him, he disappeared +behind the parapet. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + "Gently moved + By the soft wind of whispering silks."--DECKER. + +The reader may remember that while Monsieur Favart and Mr. Birnie were +holding commune in the lane, the sounds of festivity were heard from a +house in the adjoining street. To that house we are now summoned. + +At Paris, the gaieties of balls, or soirees, are, I believe, very rare in +that period of the year in which they are most frequent in London. The +entertainment now given was in honour of a christening; the lady who gave +it, a relation of the new-born. + +Madame de Merville was a young widow; even before her marriage she had +been distinguished in literature; she had written poems of more than +common excellence; and being handsome, of good family, and large fortune, +her talents made her an object of more interest than they might otherwise +have done. Her poetry showed great sensibility and tenderness. If +poetry be any index to the heart, you would have thought her one to love +truly and deeply. Nevertheless, since she married--as girls in France +do--not to please herself, but her parents, she made a _mariage de +convenance_. Monsieur de Merville was a sober, sensible man, past middle +age. Not being fond of poetry, and by no means coveting a professional +author for his wife, he had during their union, which lasted four years, +discouraged his wife's liaison with Apollo. But her mind, active and +ardent, did not the less prey upon itself. At the age of four-and-twenty +she became a widow, with an income large even in England for a single +woman, and at Paris constituting no ordinary fortune. Madame de +Merville, however, though a person of elegant taste, was neither +ostentatious nor selfish; she had no children, and she lived quietly in +apartments, handsome, indeed, but not more than adequate to the small +establishment which--where, as on the Continent, the costly convenience +of an entire house is not usually incurred--sufficed for her retinue. +She devoted at least half her income, which was entirely at her own +disposal, partly to the aid of her own relations, who were not rich, and +partly to the encouragement of the literature she cultivated. Although +she shrank from the ordeal of publication, her poems and sketches of +romance were read to her own friends, and possessed an eloquence seldom +accompanied with so much modesty. Thus, her reputation, though not blown +about the winds, was high in her own circle, and her position in fashion +and in fortune made her looked up to by her relations as the head of her +family; they regarded her as _femme superieure_, and her advice with them +was equivalent to a command. Eugenie de Merville was a strange mixture +of qualities at once feminine and masculine. On the one hand, she had a +strong will, independent views, some contempt for the world, and followed +her own inclinations without servility to the opinion of others; on the +other hand, she was susceptible, romantic, of a sweet, affectionate, kind +disposition. Her visit to M. Love, however indiscreet, was not less in +accordance with her character than her charity to the mechanic's wife; +masculine and careless where an eccentric thing was to be done--curiosity +satisfied, or some object in female diplomacy achieved--womanly, +delicate, and gentle, the instant her benevolence was appealed to or her +heart touched. She had now been three years a widow, and was +consequently at the age of twenty-seven. Despite the tenderness of her +poetry and her character, her reputation was unblemished. She had never +been in love. People who are much occupied do not fall in love easily; +besides, Madame de Merville was refining, exacting, and wished to find +heroes where she only met handsome dandies or ugly authors. Moreover, +Eugenie was both a vain and a proud person--vain of her celebrity and +proud of her birth. She was one whose goodness of heart made her always +active in promoting the happiness of others. She was not only generous +and charitable, but willing to serve people by good offices as well as +money. Everybody loved her. The new-born infant, to whose addition to +the Christian community the fete of this night was dedicated, was the +pledge of a union which Madame de Merville had managed to effect between +two young persons, first cousins to each other, and related to herself. +There had been scruples of parents to remove--money matters to adjust-- +Eugenie had smoothed all. The husband and wife, still lovers, looked up +to her as the author, under Heaven, of their happiness. + +The gala of that night had been, therefore, of a nature more than usually +pleasurable, and the mirth did not sound hollow, but wrung from the +heart. Yet, as Eugenie from time to time contemplated the young people, +whose eyes ever sought each other--so fair, so tender, and so joyous as +they seemed--a melancholy shadow darkened her brow, and she sighed +involuntarily. Once the young wife, Madame d'Anville, approaching her +timidly, said: + +"Ah! my sweet cousin, when shall we see you as happy as ourselves? There +is such happiness," she added, innocently, and with a blush, "in being a +mother!--that little life all one's own--it is something to think of +every hour!" + +"Perhaps," said Eugenie, smiling, and seeking to turn the conversation +from a subject that touched too nearly upon feelings and thoughts her +pride did not wish to reveal--"perhaps it is you, then, who have made our +cousin, poor Monsieur de Vaudemont, so determined to marry? Pray, be +more cautious with him. How difficult I have found it to prevent his +bringing into our family some one to make us all ridiculous!" + +"True," said Madame d'Anville, laughing. "But then, the Vicomte is so +poor, and in debt. He would fall in love, not with the demoiselle, but +the dower. _A propos_ of that, how cleverly you took advantage of his +boastful confession to break off his liaisons with that _bureau de +mariage_." + +"Yes; I congratulate myself on that manoeuvre. Unpleasant as it was to +go to such a place (for, of course, I could not send for Monsieur Love +here), it would have been still more unpleasant to have received such a +Madame de Vaudemont as our cousin would have presented to us. Only +think--he was the rival of an _epicier_! I heard that there was some +curious _denouement_ to the farce of that establishment; but I could +never get from Vaudemont the particulars. He was ashamed of them, I +fancy." + +"What droll professions there are in Paris!" said Madame d'Anville. "As +if people could not marry without going to an office for a spouse as we +go for a servant! And so the establishment is broken up? And you never +again saw that dark, wild-looking boy who so struck your fancy that you +have taken him as the original for the Murillo sketch of the youth in +that charming tale you read to us the other evening? Ah! cousin, I think +you were a little taken with him. The _bureau de mariage_ had its +allurements for you as well as for our poor cousin!" The young mother +said this laughingly and carelessly. + +"Pooh!" returned Madame de Merville, laughing also; but a slight blush +broke over her natural paleness. "But a propos of the Vicomte. You know +how cruelly he has behaved to that poor boy of his by his English wife-- +never seen him since he was an infant--kept him at some school in +England; and all because his vanity does not like the world to know that +he has a son of nineteen! Well, I have induced him to recall this poor +youth." + +"Indeed! and how?" + +"Why," said Eugenie, with a smile, "he wanted a loan, poor man, and I +could therefore impose conditions by way of interest. But I also managed +to conciliate him to the proposition, by representing that, if the young +man were good-looking, he might, himself, with our connections, &c., form +an advantageous marriage; and that in such a case, if the father treated +him now justly and kindly, he would naturally partake with the father +whatever benefits the marriage might confer." + +"Ah! you are an excellent diplomatist, Eugenie; and you turn people's +heads by always acting from your heart. Hush! here comes the Vicomte" + +"A delightful ball," said Monsieur de Vaudemont, approaching the hostess. +"Pray, has that young lady yonder, in the pink dress, any fortune? She +is pretty--eh? You observe she is looking at me--I mean at us!" + +"My dear cousin, what a compliment you pay to marriage! You have had two +wives, and you are ever on the _qui vive_ for a third!" + +"What would you have me do?--we cannot resist the overtures of your +bewitching sex. Hum--what fortune has she?" + +"Not a _sou_; besides, she is engaged." + +"Oh! now I look at her, she is not pretty--not at all. I made a mistake. +I did not mean her; I meant the young lady in blue." + +"Worse and worse--she is married already. Shall I present you?" + +"Ah, Monsieur de Vaudemont," said Madame d'Anville; "have you found out a +new bureau de mariage?" + +The Vicomte pretended not to hear that question. But, turning to +Eugenie, took her aside, and said, with an air in which he endeavoured to +throw a great deal of sorrow, "You know, my dear cousin, that, to oblige +you, I consented to send for my son, though, as I always said, it is very +unpleasant for a man like me, in the prime of life, to hawk about a great +boy of nineteen or twenty. People soon say, 'Old Vaudemont and younq +Vaudemont.' However, a father's feelings are never appealed to in vain." +(Here the Vicomte put his handkerchief to his eyes, and after a pause, +continued,)--"I sent for him--I even went to your old _bonne_, Madame +Dufour, to make a bargain for her lodgings, and this day--guess my grief +--I received a letter sealed with black. My son is dead!--a sudden +fever--it is shocking!" + +"Horrible! dead!--your own son, whom you hardly ever saw--never since he +was an Infant!" + +"Yes, that softens the blow very much. And now you see I must marry. If +the boy had been good-looking, and like me, and so forth, why, as you +observed, he might have made a good match, and allowed me a certain sum, +or we could have all lived together." + +"And your son is dead, and you come to a ball!" + +"_Je suis philosophe_," said the Vicomte, shrugging his shoulders. "And, +as you say, I never saw him. It saves me seven hundred francs a-year. +Don't say a word to any one--I sha'n't give out that he is dead, poor +fellow! Pray be discreet: you see there are some ill-natured people who +might think it odd I do not shut myself up. I can wait till Paris is +quite empty. It would be a pity to lose any opportunity at present, for +now, you see, I must marry!" And the philosophe sauntered away. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + GUIOMAR. + "Those devotions I am to pay + Are written in my heart, not in this book." + + Enter RUTILIO. + "I am pursued--all the ports are stopped too, + Not any hope to escape--behind, before me, + On either side, I am beset." + BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER, _The Custom of the Country_ + +The party were just gone--it was already the peep of day--the wheels of +the last carriage had died in the distance. + +Madame de Merville had dismissed her woman, and was seated in her own +room, leaning her head musingly on her hand. + +Beside her was the table that held her MSS. and a few books, amidst which +were scattered vases of flowers. On a pedestal beneath the window was +placed a marble bust of Dante. Through the open door were seen in +perspective two rooms just deserted by her guests; the lights still +burned in the chandeliers and girandoles, contending with the daylight +that came through the half-closed curtains. The person of the inmate was +in harmony with the apartment. It was characterised by a certain grace +which, for want of a better epithet, writers are prone to call classical +or antique. Her complexion, seeming paler than usual by that light, was +yet soft and delicate--the features well cut, but small and womanly. +About the face there was that rarest of all charms, the combination of +intellect with sweetness; the eyes, of a dark blue, were thoughtful, +perhaps melancholy, in their expression; but the long dark lashes, and +the shape of the eyes, themselves more long than full, gave to their +intelligence a softness approaching to languor, increased, perhaps, by +that slight shadow round and below the orbs which is common with those +who have tasked too much either the mind or the heart. The contour of +the face, without being sharp or angular, had yet lost a little of the +roundness of earlier youth; and the hand on which she leaned was, +perhaps, even too white, too delicate, for the beauty which belongs to +health; but the throat and bust were of exquisite symmetry. + +"I am not happy," murmured Eugenie to herself; "yet I scarce know why. +Is it really, as we women of romance have said till the saying is worn +threadbare, that the destiny of women is not fame but love. Strange, +then, that while I have so often pictured what love should be, I have +never felt it. And now,--and now," she continued, half rising, and with +a natural pang--"now I am no longer in my first youth. If I loved, +should I be loved again? How happy the young pair seemed--they are never +alone!" + +At this moment, at a distance, was heard the report of fire-arms--again! +Eugenie started, and called to her servant, who, with one of the waiters +hired for the night, was engaged in removing, and nibbling as he removed, +the re mains of the feast. "What is that, at this hour?--open the window +and look out!" + +"I can see nothing, madame." + +"Again--that is the third time. Go into the street and look--some one +must be in danger." + +The servant and the waiter, both curious, and not willing to part +company, ran down the stairs, and thence into the street. + +Meanwhile, Morton, after vainly attempting Birnie's window, which the +traitor had previously locked and barred against the escape of his +intended victim, crept rapidly along the roof, screened by the parapet +not only from the shot but the sight of the foe. But just as he gained +the point at which the lane made an angle with the broad street it +adjoined, he cast his eyes over the parapet, and perceived that one of +the officers had ventured himself to the fearful bridge; he was pursued-- +detection and capture seemed inevitable. He paused, and breathed hard. +He, once the heir to such fortunes, the darling of such affections!--he, +the hunted accomplice of a gang of miscreants! That was the thought that +paralysed--the disgrace, not the danger. But he was in advance of the +pursuer--he hastened on--he turned the angle--he heard a shout behind +from the opposite side--the officer had passed the bridge: "it is but one +man as yet," thought he, and his nostrils dilated and his hands clenched +as he glided on, glancing at each casement as he passed. + +Now as youth and vigour thus struggled against Law for life, near at hand +Death was busy with toil and disease. In a miserable _grabat_, or +garret, a mechanic, yet young, and stricken by a lingering malady +contracted by the labour of his occupation, was slowly passing from that +world which had frowned on his cradle, and relaxed not the gloom of its +aspect to comfort his bed of Death. Now this man had married for love, +and his wife had loved him; and it was the cares of that early marriage +which had consumed him to the bone. But extreme want, if long continued, +eats up love when it has nothing else to eat. And when people are very +long dying, the people they fret and trouble begin to think of that too +often hypocritical prettiness of phrase called "a happy release." So the +worn-out and half-famished wife did not care three straws for the dying +husband, whom a year or two ago she had vowed to love and cherish in +sickness and in health. But still she seemed to care, for she moaned, +and pined, and wept, as the man's breath grew fainter and fainter. + +"Ah, Jean!" said she, sobbing, "what will become of me, a poor lone +widow, with nobody to work for my bread?" And with that thought she took +on worse than before. + +"I am stifling," said the dying man, rolling round his ghastly eyes. +"How hot it is! Open the window; I should like to see the light-daylight +once again." + +"Mon Dieu! what whims he has, poor man!" muttered the woman, without +stirring. + +The poor wretch put out his skeleton hand and clutched his wife's arm. + +"I sha'n't trouble you long, Marie! Air--air!" + +"Jean, you will make yourself worse--besides, I shall catch my death of +cold. I have scarce a rag on, but I will just open the door." + +"Pardon me," groaned the sufferer; "leave me, then." Poor fellow! +perhaps at that moment the thought of unkindness was sharper than the +sharp cough which brought blood at every paroxysm. He did not like her +so near him, but he did not blame her. Again, I say,--poor fellow! The +woman opened the door, went to the other side of the room, and sat down +on an old box and began darning an old neck-handkerchief. The silence +was soon broken by the moans of the fast-dying man, and again he +muttered, as he tossed to and fro, with baked white lips: + +"_Je m'etoufee_!--Air!" + +There was no resisting that prayer, it seemed so like the last. The wife +laid down the needle, put the handkerchief round her throat, and opened +the window. + +"Do you feel easier now?" + +"Bless you, Marie--yes; that's good--good. It puts me in mind of old +days, that breath of air, before we came to Paris. I wish I could work +for you now, Marie." + +"Jean! my poor Jean!" said the woman, and the words and the voice took +back her hardening heart to the fresh fields and tender thoughts of the +past time. And she walked up to the bed, and he leaned his temples, damp +with livid dews, upon her breast. + +"I have been a sad burden to you, Marie; we should not have married so +soon; but I thought I was stronger. Don't cry; we have no little ones, +thank God. It will be much better for you when I am gone." + +And so, word after word gasped out--he stopped suddenly, and seemed to +fall asleep. + +The wife then attempted gently to lay him once more on his pillow--the +head fell back heavily--the jaw had dropped--the teeth were set--the eyes +were open and like the stone--the truth broke on her! + +"Jean--Jean! My God, he is dead! and I was unkind to him at the last!" +With these words she fell upon the corpse, happily herself insensible. + +Just at that moment a human face peered in at the window. Through that +aperture, after a moment's pause, a young man leaped lightly into the +room. He looked round with a hurried glance, but scarcely noticed the +forms stretched on the pallet. It was enough for him that they seemed to +sleep, and saw him not. He stole across the room, the door of which +Marie had left open, and descended the stairs. He had almost gained the +courtyard into which the stairs had conducted, when he heard voices below +by the porter's lodge. + +"The police have discovered a gang of coiners!" + +"Coiners!" + +"Yes, one has been shot dead! I have seen his body in the kennel; +another has fled along the roofs--a desperate fellow! We were to watch +for him. Let us go up-stairs and get on the roof and look out." + +By the hum of approval that followed this proposition, Morton judged +rightly that it had been addressed to several persons whom curiosity and +the explosion of the pistols had drawn from their beds, and who were +grouped round the porter's lodge. What was to be done?--to advance was +impossible: and was there yet time to retreat?--it was at least the only +course left him; he sprang back up the stairs; he had just gained the +first flight when he heard steps descending; then, suddenly, it flashed +across him that he had left open the window above--that, doubtless, by +that imprudent oversight the officer in pursuit had detected a clue to +the path he had taken. What was to be done?--die as Gawtrey had done!-- +death rather than the galleys. As he thus resolved, he saw to the right +the open door of an apartment in which lights still glimmered in their +sockets. It seemed deserted--he entered boldly and at once, closing the +door after him. Wines and viands still left on the table; gilded +mirrors, reflecting the stern face of the solitary intruder; here and +there an artificial flower, a knot of riband on the floor, all betokening +the gaieties and graces of luxurious life--the dance, the revel, the +feast--all this in one apartment!--above, in the same house, the pallet-- +the corpse--the widow--famine and woe! Such is a great city! such, above +all, is Paris! where, under the same roof, are gathered such antagonist +varieties of the social state! Nothing strange in this; it is strange +and sad that so little do people thus neighbours know of each other, that +the owner of those rooms had a heart soft to every distress, but she did +not know the distress so close at hand. The music that had charmed her +guests had mounted gaily to the vexed ears of agony and hunger. Morton +passed the first room--a second--he came to a third, and Eugenie de +Merville, looking up at that instant, saw before her an apparition that +might well have alarmed the boldest. His head was uncovered--his dark +hair shadowed in wild and disorderly profusion the pale face and +features, beautiful indeed, but at that moment of the beauty which an +artist would impart to a young gladiator--stamped with defiance, menace, +and despair. The disordered garb--the fierce aspect--the dark eyes, that +literally shone through the shadows of the room-all conspired to increase +the terror of so abrupt a presence. + +"What are you?--What do you seek here?" said she, falteringly, placing +her hand on the bell as she spoke. Upon that soft hand Morton laid his +own. + +"I seek my life! I am pursued! I am at your mercy! I am innocent! Can +you save me?" + +As he spoke, the door of the outer room beyond was heard to open, and +steps and voices were at hand. + +"Ah!" he exclaimed, recoiling as he recognised her face. "And is it to +you that I have fled?" + +Eugenie also recognised the stranger; and there was something in their +relative positions--the suppliant, the protectress--that excited both her +imagination and her pity. A slight colour mantled to her cheeks--her +look was gentle and compassionate. + +"Poor boy! so young!" she said. "Hush!" + +She withdrew her hand from his, retired a few steps, lifted a curtain +drawn across a recess--and pointing to an alcove that contained one of +those sofa-beds common in French houses, added in a whisper,-- + +"Enter--you are saved." + +Morton obeyed, and Eugenie replaced the curtain. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + GUIOMAR. + "Speak! What are you?" + + RUTILIO. + "Gracious woman, hear me. I am a stranger: + And in that I answer all your demands." + _Custom of the Country_. + +Eugenie replaced the curtain. And scarcely had she done so ere the steps +in the outer room entered the chamber where she stood. Her servant was +accompanied by two officers of the police. + +"Pardon, madame," said one of the latter; "but we are in pursuit of a +criminal. We think he must have entered this house through a window +above while your servant was in the street. Permit us to search?" + +"Without doubt," answered Eugenie, seating herself. "If he has entered, +look in the other apartments. I have not quitted this room." + +"You are right. Accept our apologies." + +And the officers turned back to examine every corner where the fugitive +was not. For in that, the scouts of Justice resembled their mistress: +when does man's justice look to the right place? + +The servant lingered to repeat the tale he had heard--the sight he had +seen. When, at that instant, he saw the curtain of the alcove slightly +stirred. He uttered an exclamation-sprung to the bed--his hand touched +the curtain--Eugenie seized his arm. She did not speak; but as he turned +his eyes to her, astonished, he saw that she trembled, and that her cheek +was as white as marble. + +"Madame," he said, hesitating, "there is some one hid in the recess." + +"There is! Be silent!" + +A suspicion flashed across the servant's mind. The pure, the proud, the +immaculate Eugenie! + +"There is!--and in madame's chamber!" he faltered unconsciously. + +Eugenie's quick apprehensions seized the foul thought. Her eyes flashed +--her cheek crimsoned. But her lofty and generous nature conquered even +the indignant and scornful burst that rushed to her lips. The truth!-- +could she trust the man? A doubt--and the charge of the human life +rendered to her might be betrayed. Her colour fell--tears gushed to her +eyes. + +"I have been kind to you, Francois. Not a word." "Madame confides in +me--it is enough," said the Frenchman, bowing, with a slight smile on his +lips; and he drew back respectfully. + +One of the police officers re-entered. + +"We have done, madame; he is not here. Aha! that curtain!" + +"It is madame's bed," said Francois. "But I have looked behind." + +"I am most sorry to have disarranged you," said the policeman, satisfied +with the answer; "but we shall have him yet." And he retired. + +The last footsteps died away, the last door of the apartments closed +behind the officers, and Eugenie and her servant stood alone gazing on +each other. + +"You may retire," said she at last; and taking her purse from the table, +she placed it in his hands. + +The man took it, with a significant look. "Madame may depend on my +discretion." + +Eugenie was alone again. Those words rang in her ear,--Eugenie de +Merville dependent on the discretion of her lackey! She sunk into her +chair, and, her excitement succeeded by exhaustion, leaned her face on +her hands, and burst into tears. She was aroused by a low voice; she +looked up, and the young man was kneeling at her feet. + +"Go--go!" she said: "I have done for you all I can." + +"You heard--you heard--my own hireling, too! At the hazard of my own good +name you are saved. Go!" + +"Of your good name!"--for Eugenie forgot that it was looks, not words, +that had so wrung her pride--"Your good name," he repeated: and glancing +round the room--the toilette, the curtain, the recess he had quitted--all +that bespoke that chastest sanctuary of a chaste woman, which for a +stranger to enter is, as it were, to profane--her meaning broke on him. +"Your good name--your hireling! No, madame,--no!" And as he spoke, he +rose to his feet. "Not for me, that sacrifice! Your humanity shall not +cost you so dear. Ho, there! I am the man you seek." And he strode to +the door. + +Eugenie was penetrated with the answer. She sprung to him--she grasped +his garments. + +"Hush! hush!--for mercy's sake! What would you do? Think you I could +ever be happy again, if the confidence you placed in me were betrayed? +Be calm--be still. I knew not what I said. It will be easy to undeceive +the man--later--when you are saved. And you are innocent,--are you not?" + +"Oh, madame," said Morton, "from my soul I say it, I am innocent--not of +poverty--wretchedness--error--shame; I am innocent of crime. May Heaven +bless you!" + +And as he reverently kissed the hand laid on his arm, there was something +in his voice so touching, in his manner something so above his fortunes, +that Eugenie was lost in her feelings of compassion, surprise, and +something, it might be, of admiration in her wonder. + +"And, oh!" he said, passionately, gazing on her with his dark, brilliant +eyes, liquid with emotion, "you have made my life sweet in saving it. +You--you--of whom, ever since the first time, almost the sole time, I +beheld you--I have so often mused and dreamed. Henceforth, whatever +befall me, there will be some recollections that will--that--" + +He stopped short, for his heart was too full for words; and the silence +said more to Eugenie than if all the eloquence of Rousseau had glowed +upon his tongue. + +"And who, and what are you?" she asked, after a pause. + +"An exile--an orphan--an outcast! I have no name! Farewell!" + +"No--stay yet--the danger is not past. Wait till my servant is gone to +rest; I hear him yet. Sit down--sit down. And whither would you go?" + +"I know not." + +"Have you no friends?" + +"Gone." + +"No home?" + +"None." + +"And the police of Paris so vigilant!" cried Eugenie, wringing her +hands. "What is to be done? I shall have saved you in vain--you will be +discovered! Of what do they charge you? Not robbery--not--" + +And she, too, stopped short, for she did not dare to breathe the black +word, "Murder!" + +"I know not," said Morton, putting his hand to his forehead, "except of +being friends with the only man who befriended me--and they have killed +him!" + +"Another time you shall tell me all." + +"Another time!" he exclaimed, eagerly--"shall I see you again?" + +Eugenie blushed beneath the gaze and the voice of joy. "Yes," she said; +"yes. But I must reflect. Be calm be silent. Ah!--a happy thought!" + +She sat down, wrote a hasty line, sealed, and gave it to Morton. + +"Take this note, as addressed, to Madame Dufour; it will provide you with +a safe lodging. She is a person I can depend on--an old servant who +lived with my mother, and to whom I have given a small pension. She has +a lodging--it is lately vacant--I promised to procure her a tenant--go-- +say nothing of what has passed. I will see her, and arrange all. Wait! +--hark!--all is still. I will go first, and see that no one watches you. +Stop," (and she threw open the window, and looked into the court.) "The +porter's door is open--that is fortunate! Hurry on, and God be with +you!" + +In a few minutes Morton was in the streets. It was still early--the +thoroughfares deserted-none of the shops yet open. The address on the +note was to a street at some distance, on the other side of the Seine. +He passed along the same Quai which he had trodden but a few hours since +--he passed the same splendid bridge on which he had stood despairing, to +quit it revived--he gained the Rue Faubourg St. Honore. A young man in a +cabriolet, on whose fair cheek burned the hectic of late vigils and +lavish dissipation, was rolling leisurely home from the gaming-house, at +which he had been more than usually fortunate--his pockets were laden +with notes and gold. He bent forwards as Morton passed him. Philip, +absorbed in his reverie, perceived him not, and continued his way. The +gentleman turned down one of the streets to the left, stopped, and called +to the servant dozing behind his cabriolet. + +"Follow that passenger! quietly--see where he lodges; be sure to find out +and let me know. I shall go home with out you." With that he drove on. + +Philip, unconscious of the espionage, arrived at a small house in a quiet +but respectable street, and rang the bell several times before at last he +was admitted by Madame Dufour herself, in her nightcap. The old woman +looked askant and alarmed at the unexpected apparition. But the note +seemed at once to satisfy her. She conducted him to an apartment on the +first floor, small, but neatly and even elegantly furnished, consisting +of a sitting-room and a bedchamber, and said, quietly,-- + +"Will they suit monsieur?" + +To monsieur they seemed a palace. Morton nodded assent. + +"And will monsieur sleep for a short time?" + +"Yes." + +"The bed is well aired. The rooms have only been vacant three days +since. Can I get you anything till your luggage arrives?" + +"No." + +The woman left him. He threw off his clothes--flung himself on the bed-- +and did not wake till noon. + +When his eyes unclosed--when they rested on that calm chamber, with its +air of health, and cleanliness, and comfort, it was long before he could +convince himself that he was yet awake. He missed the loud, deep voice +of Gawtrey--the smoke of the dead man's meerschaum--the gloomy garret-- +the distained walls--the stealthy whisper of the loathed Birnie; slowly +the life led and the life gone within the last twelve hours grew upon his +struggling memory. He groaned, and turned uneasily round, when the door +slightly opened, and he sprung up fiercely,-- + +"Who is there?" + +"It is only I, sir," answered Madame Dufour. "I have been in three times +to see if you were stirring. There is a letter I believe for you, sir; +though there is no name to it," and she laid the letter on the chair +beside him. Did it come from her--the saving angel? He seized it. The +cover was blank; it was sealed with a small device, as of a ring seal. +He tore it open, and found four billets de banque for 1,000 francs each, +--a sum equivalent in our money to about L160. + +"Who sent this, the--the lady from whom I brought the note?" + +"Madame de Merville? certainly not, sir," said Madame Dufour, who, with +the privilege of age, was now unscrupulously filling the water-jugs and +settling the toilette-table. "A young man called about two hours after +you had gone to bed; and, describing you, inquired if you lodged here, +and what your name was. I said you had just arrived, and that I did not +yet know your name. So he went away, and came again half an hour +afterwards with this letter, which he charged me to deliver to you +safely." + +A young man--a gentleman?" + +"No, sir; he seemed a smart but common sort of lad." For the +unsophisticated Madame Dufour did not discover in the plain black frock +and drab gaiters of the bearer of that letter the simple livery of an +English gentleman's groom. + +Whom could it come from, if not from Madame de Merville? Perhaps one of +Gawtrey's late friends. A suspicion of Arthur Beaufort crossed him, but +he indignantly dismissed it. Men are seldom credulous of what they are +unwilling to believe. What kindness had the Beauforts hitherto shown +him?--Left his mother to perish broken-hearted--stolen from him his +brother, and steeled, in that brother, the only heart wherein he had a +right to look for gratitude and love! No, it must be Madame de Merville. +He dismissed Madame Dufour for pen and paper--rose--wrote a letter to +Eugenie--grateful, but proud, and inclosed the notes. He then summoned +Madame Dufour, and sent her with his despatch. + +"Ah, madame," said the _ci-devant bonne_, when she found herself in +Eugenie's presence. "The poor lad! how handsome he is, and how shameful +in the Vicomte to let him wear such clothes!" + +"The Vicomte!" + +"Oh, my dear mistress, you must not deny it. You told me, in your note, +to ask him no questions, but I guessed at once. The Vicomte told me +himself that he should have the young gentleman over in a few days. You +need not be ashamed of him. You will see what a difference clothes will +make in his appearance; and I have taken it on myself to order a tailor +to go to him. The Vicomte--must pay me." + +"Not a word to the Vicomte as yet. We will surprise him," said Eugenie, +laughing. + +Madame de Merville had been all that morning trying to invent some story +to account for her interest in the lodger, and now how Fortune favoured +her! + +"But is that a letter for me?" + +"And I had almost forgot it," said Madame Dufour, as she extended the +letter. + +Whatever there had hitherto been in the circumstances connected with +Morton, that had roused the interest and excited the romance of Eugenie +de Merville, her fancy was yet more attracted by the tone of the letter +she now read. For though Morton, more accustomed to speak than to write +French, expressed himself with less precision, and a less euphuistic +selection of phrase, than the authors and _elegans_ who formed her usual +correspondents; there was an innate and rough nobleness--a strong and +profound feeling in every line of his letter, which increased her +surprise and admiration. + +"All that surrounds him--all that belongs to him, is strangeness and +mystery!" murmured she; and she sat down to reply. + +When Madame Dufour departed with that letter, Eugenie remained silent and +thoughtful for more than an hour, Morton's letter before her; and sweet, +in their indistinctness, were the recollections and the images that +crowded on her mind. + +Morton, satisfied by the earnest and solemn assurances of Eugenie that +she was not the unknown donor of the sum she reinclosed, after puzzling +himself in vain to form any new conjectures as to the quarter whence it +came, felt that under his present circumstances it would be an absurd +Quixotism to refuse to apply what the very Providence to whom he had anew +consigned himself seemed to have sent to his aid. And it placed him, +too, beyond the offer of all pecuniary assistance from one from whom he +could least have brooked to receive it. He consented, therefore, to all +that the loquacious tailor proposed to him. And it would have been +difficult to have recognised the wild and frenzied fugitive in the +stately form, with its young beauty and air of well-born pride, which the +next day sat by the side of Eugenie. And that day he told his sad and +troubled story, and Eugenie wept: and from that day he came daily; and +two weeks--happy, dreamlike, intoxicating to both--passed by; and as +their last sun set, he was kneeling at her feet, and breathing to one to +whom the homage of wit, and genius, and complacent wealth had hitherto +been vainly proffered, the impetuous, agitated, delicious secrets of the +First Love. He spoke, and rose to depart for ever--when the look and +sigh detained him. + +The next day, after a sleepless night, Eugenie de Merville sent for the +Vicomte de Vaudemont. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + "A silver river small + In sweet accents + Its music vents; + The warbling virginal + To which the merry birds do sing, + Timed with stops of gold the silver string." + _Sir Richard Fanshawe_. + +One evening, several weeks after the events just commemorated, a +stranger, leading in his hand, a young child, entered the churchyard of +H----. The sun had not long set, and the short twilight of deepening +summer reigned in the tranquil skies; you might still hear from the trees +above the graves the chirp of some joyous bird;--what cared he, the +denizen of the skies, for the dead that slept below?--what did he value +save the greenness and repose of the spot,--to him alike the garden or +the grave! As the man and the child passed, the robin, scarcely scared +by their tread from the long grass beside one of the mounds, looked at +them with its bright, blithe eye. It was a famous plot for the robin-- +the old churchyard! That domestic bird--"the friend of man," as it has +been called by the poets--found a jolly supper among the worms! + +The stranger, on reaching the middle of the sacred ground, paused and +looked round him wistfully. He then approached, slowly and hesitatingly, +an oblong tablet, on which were graven, in letters yet fresh and new, +these words:-- + + TO THE + MEMORY OF ONE CALUMNIATED AND WRONGED + THIS BURIAL-STONE IS DEDICATED + BY HER SON. + +Such, with the addition of the dates of birth and death, was the tablet +which Philip Morton had directed to be placed over his mother's bones; +and around it was set a simple palisade, which defended it from the tread +of the children, who sometimes, in defiance of the beadle, played over +the dust of the former race. + +"Thy son!" muttered the stranger, while the child stood quietly by his +side, pleased by the trees, the grass, the song of the birds, and reeking +not of grief or death,--"thy son!--but not thy favoured son--thy darling +--thy youngest born; on what spot of earth do thine eyes look down on +him? Surely in heaven thy love has preserved the one whom on earth thou +didst most cherish, from the sufferings and the trials that have visited +the less-favoured outcast. Oh, mother--mother!--it was not his crime-- +not Philip's--that he did not fulfil to the last the trust bequeathed to +him! Happier, perhaps, as it is! And, oh, if thy memory be graven as +deeply in my brother's heart as my own, how often will it warn and save +him! That memory!--it has been to me the angel of my life! To thee--to +thee, even in death, I owe it, if, though erring, I am not criminal,--if +I have lived with the lepers, and am still undefiled!" His lips then +were silent--not his heart! + +After a few minutes thus consumed he turned to the child, and said, +gently and in a tremulous voice, "Fanny, you have been taught to pray-- +you will live near this spot,--will you come sometimes here and pray that +you may grow up good and innocent, and become a blessing to those who +love you?" + +"Will papa ever come to hear me pray?" + +That sad and unconscious question went to the heart of Morton. The child +could not comprehend death. He had sought to explain it, but she had +been accustomed to consider her protector dead when he was absent from +her, and she still insisted that he must come again to life. And that +man of turbulence and crime, who had passed unrepentant, unabsolved, from +sin to judgment: it was an awful question, "If he should hear her pray?" + +"Yes!" said he, after a pause,--"yes, Fanny, there is a Father who will +hear you pray; and pray to Him to be merciful to those who have been kind +to you. Fanny, you and I may never meet again!" + +"Are you going to die too? _Mechant_, every one dies to Fanny!" and, +clinging to him endearingly, she put up her lips to kiss him. He took +her in his arms: and, as a tear fell upon her rosy cheek, she said, +"Don't cry, brother, for I love you." + +"Do you, dear Fanny? Then, for my sake, when you come to this place, if +any one will give you a few flowers, scatter them on that stone. And now +we will go to one whom you must love also, and to whom, as I have told +you, _he_ sends you; he who--Come!" + +As he thus spoke, and placed Fanny again on the ground, he was startled +to see: precisely on the spot where he had seen before the like +apparition--on the same spot where the father had cursed the son, the +motionless form of an old man. Morton recognised, as if by an instinct +rather than by an effort of the memory, the person to whom he was bound. + +He walked slowly towards him; but Fanny abruptly left his side, lured by +a moth that flitted duskily over the graves. + +"Your name, sir, I think, is Simon Gawtrey?" said Morton. "I have came +to England in quest of you." + +"Of me?" said the old man, half rising, and his eyes, now completely +blind, rolled vacantly over Morton's person--"Of me?--for what?--Who are +you?--I don't know your voice!" + +"I come to you from your son!" + +"My son!" exclaimed the old man, with great vehemence,--"the reprobate!-- +the dishonoured!--the infamous!--the accursed--" + +"Hush! you revile the dead!" + +"Dead!" muttered the wretched father, tottering back to the seat he had +quitted,--"dead!" and the sound of his voice was so full of anguish, that +the dog at his feet, which Morton had not hitherto perceived, echoed it +with a dismal cry, that recalled to Philip the awful day in which he had +seen the son quit the father for the last time on earth. + +The sound brought Fanny to the spot; and, with a laugh of delight, which +made to it a strange contrast, she threw herself on the grass beside the +dog and sought to entice it to play. So there, in that place of death, +were knit together the four links in the Great Chain;--lusty and blooming +life--desolate and doting age--infancy, yet scarce conscious of a soul-- +and the dumb brute, that has no warrant of a Hereafter! + +"Dead!--dead!" repeated the old man, covering his sightless balls with +his withered hands. "Poor William!" + +"He remembered you to the last. He bade me seek you out--he bade me +replace the guilty son with a thing pure and innocent, as he had been had +he died in his cradle--a child to comfort your old age! Kneel, Fanny, I +have found you a father who will cherish you--(oh! you will, sir, will +you not?)--as he whom you may see no more!" + +There was something in Morton's voice so solemn, that it awed and touched +both the old man and the infant; and Fanny, creeping to the protector +thus assigned to her, and putting her little hands confidingly on his +knees, said-- + +"Fanny will love you if papa wished it. Kiss Fanny." + +"Is it his child--his?" said the blind man, sobbing. "Come to my heart; +here--here! O God, forgive me!" Morton did not think it right at that +moment to undeceive him with regard to the poor child's true connexion +with the deceased: and he waited in silence till Simon, after a burst of +passionate grief and tenderness, rose, and still clasping the child to +his breast, said-- + +"Sir, forgive me!--I am a very weak old man--I have many thanks to give-- +I have much, too, to learn. My poor son! he did not die in want,--did +he?" + +The particulars of Gawtrey's fate, with his real name and the various +aliases he had assumed, had appeared in the French journals, had been +partially copied into the English; and Morton had expected to have been +saved the painful narrative of that fearful death; but the utter +seclusion of the old man, his infirmity, and his estranged habits, had +shut him out from the intelligence that it now devolved on Philip to +communicate. Morton hesitated a little before he answered: + +"It is late now; you are not yet prepared to receive this poor infant at +your home, nor to hear the details I have to state. I arrived in England +but to-day. I shall lodge in the neighbourhood, for it is dear to me. +If I may feel sure, then, that you will receive and treasure this sacred +and last deposit bequeathed to you by your unhappy son, I will bring my +charge to you to-morrow, and we will then, more calmly than we can now, +talk over the past." + +"You do not answer my question," said Simon, passionately; "answer that, +and I will wait for the rest. They call me a miser! Did I send out my +only child to starve? Answer that!" + +"Be comforted. He did not die in want; and he has even left some little +fortune for Fanny, which I was to place in your hands." + +"And he thought to bribe the old miser to be human! Well--well--well--I +will go home." + +"Lean on me!" + +The dog leapt playfully on his master as the latter rose, and Fanny slid +from Simon's arms to caress and talk to the animal in her own way. As +they slowly passed through the churchyard Simon muttered incoherently to +himself for several paces, and Morton would not disturb, since he could +not comfort, him. + +At last he said abruptly, "Did my son repent?" + +"I hoped," answered Morton, evasively, "that, had his life been spared, +he would have amended!" + +"Tush, sir!--I am past seventy; we repent!--we never amend!" And Simon +again sunk into his own dim and disconnected reveries. + +At length they arrived at the blind man's house. The door was opened to +them by an old woman of disagreeable and sinister aspect, dressed out +much too gaily for the station of a servant, though such was her reputed +capacity; but the miser's affliction saved her from the chance of his +comment on her extravagance. As she stood in the doorway with a candle +in her hand, she scanned curiously, and with no welcoming eye, her +master's companions. + +"Mrs. Boxer, my son is dead!" said Simon, in a hollow voice. + +"And a good thing it is, then, sir!" + +"For shame, woman!" said Morton, indignantly. "Hey-dey! sir! whom have +we got here?" + +"One," said Simon, sternly, "whom you will treat with respect. He brings +me a blessing to lighten my loss. One harsh word to this child, and you +quit my house!" + +The woman looked perfectly thunderstruck; but, recovering herself, she +said, whiningly-- + +"I! a harsh word to anything my dear, kind master cares for. And, Lord, +what a sweet pretty creature it is! Come here, my dear!" + +But Fanny shrunk back, and would not let go Philip's hand. + +"To-morrow, then," said Morton; and he was turning away, when a sudden +thought seemed to cross the old man,-- + +"Stay, sir--stay! I--I--did my son say I was rich? I am very, very +poor--nothing in the house, or I should have been robbed long ago!" + +"Your son told me to bring money, not to ask for it!" + +"Ask for it! No; but," added the old man, and a gleam of cunning +intelligence shot over his face,--"but he had got into a bad set. Ask!-- +No!--Put up the door-chain, Mrs. Boxer!" + +It was with doubt and misgivings that Morton, the next day, consigned the +child, who had already nestled herself into the warmest core of his +heart, to the care of Simon. Nothing short of that superstitious +respect, which all men owe to the wishes of the dead, would have made him +select for her that asylum; for Fate had now, in brightening his own +prospects, given him an alternative in the benevolence of Madame de +Merville. But Gawtrey had been so earnest on the subject, that he felt +as if he had no right to hesitate. And was it not a sort of atonement to +any faults the son might have committed against the parent, to place by +the old man's hearth so sweet a charge? + +The strange and peculiar mind and character of Fanny made him, however, +yet more anxious than otherwise he might have been. She certainly +deserved not the harsh name of imbecile or idiot, but she was different +from all other children; she felt more acutely than most of her age, but +she could not be taught to reason. There was something either oblique or +deficient in her intellect, which justified the most melancholy +apprehensions; yet often, when some disordered, incoherent, inexplicable +train of ideas most saddened the listener, it would be followed by +fancies so exquisite in their strangeness, or feelings so endearing in +their tenderness, that suddenly she seemed as much above, as before she +seemed below, the ordinary measure of infant comprehension. She was like +a creature to which Nature, in some cruel but bright caprice, has given +all that belongs to poetry, but denied all that belongs to the common +understanding necessary to mankind; or, as a fairy changeling, not, +indeed, according to the vulgar superstition, malignant and deformed, but +lovelier than the children of men, and haunted by dim and struggling +associations of a gentler and fairer being, yet wholly incapable to learn +the dry and hard elements which make up the knowledge of actual life. + +Morton, as well as he could, sought to explain to Simon the peculiarities +in Fanny's mental constitution. He urged on him the necessity of +providing for her careful instruction, and Simon promised to send her to +the best school the neighbourhood could afford; but, as the old man +spoke, he dwelt so much on the supposed fact that Fanny was William's +daughter, and with his remorse, or affection, there ran so interwoven a +thread of selfishness and avarice, that Morton thought it would be +dangerous to his interest in the child to undeceive his error. He, +therefore,--perhaps excusably enough--remained silent on that subject. + +Gawtrey had placed with the superior of the convent, together with an +order to give up the child to any one who should demand her in his true +name, which he confided to the superior, a sum of nearly L300., which he +solemnly swore had been honestly obtained, and which, in all his shifts +and adversities, he had never allowed himself to touch. This sum, with +the trifling deduction made for arrears due to the convent, Morton now +placed in Simon's hands. The old man clutched the money, which was for +the most in French gold, with a convulsive gripe: and then, as if ashamed +of the impulse, said-- + +"But you, sir--will any sum--that is, any reasonable sum--be of use to +you?" + +"No! and if it were, it is neither yours nor mine--it is hers. Save it +for her, and add to it what you can." + +While this conversation took place, Fanny had been consigned to the care +of Mrs. Boxer, and Philip now rose to see and bid her farewell before he +departed. + +"I may come again to visit you, Mr. Gawtrey; and I pray Heaven to find +that you and Fanny have been a mutual blessing to each other. Oh, +remember how your son loved her!" + +"He had a good heart, in spite of all his sins. Poor William!" said +Simon. + +Philip Morton heard, and his lip curled with a sad and a just disdain. + +If when, at the age of nineteen, William Gawtrey had quitted his father's +roof, the father had then remembered that the son's heart was good,--the +son had been alive still, an honest and a happy man. Do ye not laugh, O +ye all-listening Fiends! when men praise those dead whose virtues they +discovered not when alive? It takes much marble to build the sepulchre-- +how little of lath and plaster would have repaired the garret! + +On turning into a small room adjoining the parlour in which Gawtrey sat, +Morton found Fanny standing gloomily by a dull, soot-grimed window, which +looked out on the dead walls of a small yard. Mrs. Boxer, seated by a +table, was employed in trimming a cap, and putting questions to Fanny in +that falsetto voice of endearment in which people not used to children +are apt to address them. + +"And so, my dear, they've never taught you to read or write? You've been +sadly neglected, poor thing!" + +"We must do our best to supply the deficiency," said Morton, as he +entered. + +"Bless me, sir, is that you?" and the gouvernante bustled up and dropped +a low courtesy; for Morton, dressed then in the garb of a gentleman, was +of a mien and person calculated to strike the gaze of the vulgar. + +"Ah, brother!" cried Fanny, for by that name he had taught her to call +him; and she flew to his side. "Come away--it's ugly there--it makes me +cold." + +"My child, I told you you must stay; but I shall hope to see you again +some day. Will you not be kind to this poor creature, ma'am? Forgive +me, if I offended you last night, and favour me by accepting this, to +show that we are friends." As he spoke, he slid his purse into the +woman's hand. "I shall feel ever grateful for whatever you can do for +Fanny." + +"Fanny wants nothing from any one else; Fanny wants her brother." + +"Sweet child! I fear she don't take to me. Will you like me, Miss +Fanny?" + +"No! get along!" + +"Fie, Fanny--you remember you did not take to me at first. But she is so +affectionate, ma'am; she never forgets a kindness." + +"I will do all I can to please her, sir. And so she is really master's +grandchild?" The woman fixed her eyes, as she spoke, so intently on +Morton, that he felt embarrassed, and busied himself, without answering, +in caressing and soothing Fanny, who now seemed to awake to the +affliction about to visit her; for though she did not weep--she very +rarely wept--her slight frame trembled--her eyes closed--her cheeks, even +her lips, were white--and her delicate hands were clasped tightly round +the neck of the one about to abandon her to strange breasts. + +Morton was greatly moved. "One kiss, Fanny! and do not forget me when we +meet again." + +The child pressed her lips to his cheek, but the lips were cold. He put +her down gently; she stood mute and passive. + +"Remember that he wished me to leave you here," whispered Morton, using +an argument that never failed. "We must obey him; and so-God bless you, +Fanny!" + +He rose and retreated to the door; the child unclosed her eyes, and gazed +at him with a strained, painful, imploring gaze; her lips moved, but she +did not speak. Morton could not bear that silent woe. He sought to +smile on her consolingly; but the smile would not come. He closed the +door, and hurried from the house. + +From that day Fanny settled into a kind of dreary, inanimate stupor, +which resembled that of the somnambulist whom the magnetiser forgets to +waken. Hitherto, with all the eccentricities or deficiencies of her +mind, had mingled a wild and airy gaiety. That was vanished. She spoke +little--she never played--no toys could lure her--even the poor dog +failed to win her notice. If she was told to do anything she stared +vacantly and stirred not. She evinced, however, a kind of dumb regard to +the old blind man; she would creep to his knees and sit there for hours, +seldom answering when he addressed her, but uneasy, anxious, and +restless, if he left her. + +"Will you die too?" she asked once; the old man understood her not, and +she did not try to explain. Early one morning, some days after Morton +was gone, they missed her: she was not in the house, nor the dull yard +where she was sometimes dismissed and told to play--told in vain. In +great alarm the old man accused Mrs. Boxer of having spirited her away, +and threatened and stormed so loudly that the woman, against her will, +went forth to the search. At last she found the child in the churchyard, +standing wistfully beside a tomb. + +"What do you here, you little plague?" said Mrs. Boxer, rudely seizing +her by the arm. + +"This is the way they will both come back some day! I dreamt so!" + +"If ever I catch you here again!" said the housekeeper, and, wiping her +brow with one hand, she struck the child with the other. Fanny had never +been struck before. She recoiled in terror and amazement, and, for the +first time since her arrival, burst into tears. + +"Come--come, no crying! and if you tell master I'll beat you within an +inch of your life!" So saying, she caught Fanny in her arms, and, +walking about, scolding and menacing, till she had frightened back the +child's tears, she returned triumphantly to the house, and bursting into +the parlour, exclaimed, "Here's the little darling, sir!" + +When old Simon learned where the child had been found he was glad; for it +was his constant habit, whenever the evening was fine, to glide out to +that churchyard--his dog his guide--and sit on his one favourite spot +opposite the setting sun. This, not so much for the sanctity of the +place, or the meditations it might inspire, as because it was the +nearest, the safest, and the loneliest spot in the neighbourhood of his +home, where the blind man could inhale the air and bask in the light of +heaven. Hitherto, thinking it sad for the child, he had never taken her +with him; indeed, at the hour of his monotonous excursion she had +generally been banished to bed. Now she was permitted to accompany him; +and the old man and the infant would sit there side by side, as Age and +Infancy rested side by side in the graves below. The first symptom of +childlike interest and curiosity that Fanny betrayed was awakened by the +affliction of her protector. One evening, as they thus sat, she made him +explain what the desolation of blindness is. She seemed to comprehend +him, though he did not seek to adapt his complaints to her understanding. + +"Fanny knows," said she, touchingly; "for she, too, is blind here;" and +she pressed her hands to her temples. Notwithstanding her silence and +strange ways, and although he could not see the exquisite loveliness +which Nature, as in remorseful pity, had lavished on her outward form, +Simon soon learned to love her better than he had ever loved yet: for +they most cold to the child are often dotards to the grandchild. For her +even his avarice slept. Dainties, never before known at his sparing +board, were ordered to tempt her appetite, toy-shops ransacked to amuse +her indolence. He was long, however, before he could prevail on himself +to fulfil his promise to Morton, and rob himself of her presence. At +length, however, wearied with Mrs. Boxer's lamentations at her ignorance, +and alarmed himself at some evidences of helplessness, which made him +dread to think what her future might be when left alone in life, he +placed her at a day-school in the suburb. Here Fanny, for a considerable +time, justified the harshest assertions of her stupidity. She could not +even keep her eyes two minutes together on the page from which she was to +learn the mysteries of reading; months passed before she mastered the +alphabet, and, a month after, she had again forgot it, and the labour was +renewed. The only thing in which she showed ability, if so it might be +called, was in the use of the needle. The sisters of the convent had +already taught her many pretty devices in this art; and when she found +that at the school they were admired--that she was praised instead of +blamed--her vanity was pleased, and she learned so readily all that they +could teach in this not unprofitable accomplishment, that Mrs. Boxer +slyly and secretly turned her tasks to account and made a weekly +perquisite of the poor pupil's industry. Another faculty she possessed, +in common with persons usually deficient, and with the lower species-- +viz., a most accurate and faithful recollection of places. At first Mrs. +Boxer had been duly sent, morning, noon, and evening, to take her to, or +bring her from, the school; but this was so great a grievance to Simon's +solitary superintendent, and Fanny coaxed the old man so endearingly to +allow her to go and return alone, that the attendance, unwelcome to both, +was waived. Fanny exulted in this liberty; and she never, in going or in +returning, missed passing through the burial-ground, and gazing wistfully +at the tomb from which she yet believed Morton would one day reappear. +With his memory she cherished also that of her earlier and more guilty +protector; but they were separate feelings, which she distinguished in +her own way. + +"Papa had given her up. She knew that he would not have sent her away, +far--far over the great water, if he had meant to see Fanny again; but +her brother was forced to leave her--he would come to life one day, and +then they should live together!" + +One day, towards the end of autumn, as her schoolmistress, a good woman +on the whole, but who had not yet had the wit to discover by what chords +to tune the instrument, over which so wearily she drew her unskilful +hand--one day, we say, the schoolmistress happened to be dressed for a +christening party to which she was invited in the suburb; and, +accordingly, after the morning lessons, the pupils were to be dismissed +to a holiday. As Fanny now came last, with the hopeless spelling-book, +she stopped suddenly short, and her eyes rested with avidity upon a large +bouquet of exotic flowers, with which the good lady had enlivened the +centre of the parted kerchief, whose yellow gauze modestly veiled that +tender section of female beauty which poets have likened to hills of +snow--a chilling simile! It was then autumn; and field, and even garden +flowers were growing rare. + +"Will you give me one of those flowers?" said Fanny, dropping her book. + +"One of these flowers, child! why?" + +Fanny did not answer; but one of the elder and cleverer girls said-- + +"Oh! she comes from France, you know, ma'am, and the Roman Catholics put +flowers, and ribands, and things, over the graves; you recollect, ma'am, +we were reading yesterday about Pere-la-Chaise?" + +"Well! what then?" + +"And Miss Fanny will do any kind of work for us if we will give her +flowers." + +"My brother told me where to put them;--but these pretty flowers, I never +had any like them; they may bring him back again! I'll be so good if +you'll give me one, only one!" + +"Will you learn your lesson if I do, Fanny?" + +"Oh! yes! Wait a moment!" + +And Fanny stole back to her desk, put the hateful book resolutely before +her, pressed both hands tightly on her temples,--Eureka! the chord was +touched; and Fanny marched in triumph through half a column of hostile +double syllables! + +From that day the schoolmistress knew how to stimulate her, and Fanny +learned to read: her path to knowledge thus literally strewn with +flowers! Catherine, thy children were far off, and thy grave looked gay! + +It naturally happened that those short and simple rhymes, often sacred, +which are repeated in schools as helps to memory, made a part of her +studies; and no sooner had the sound of verse struck upon her fancy than +it seemed to confuse and agitate anew all her senses. It was like the +music of some breeze, to which dance and tremble all the young leaves of +a wild plant. Even when at the convent she had been fond of repeating +the infant rhymes with which they had sought to lull or to amuse her, +but now the taste was more strongly developed. She confounded, however, +in meaningless and motley disorder, the various snatches of song that +came to her ear, weaving them together in some form which she understood, +but which was jargon to all others; and often, as she went alone through +the green lanes or the bustling streets, the passenger would turn in pity +and fear to hear her half chant--half murmur--ditties that seemed to suit +only a wandering and unsettled imagination. And as Mrs. Boxer, in her +visits to the various shops in the suburb, took care to bemoan her hard +fate in attending to a creature so evidently moon-stricken, it was no +wonder that the manner and habits of the child, coupled with that strange +predilection to haunt the burial-ground, which is not uncommon with +persons of weak and disordered intellect; confirmed the character thus +given to her. + +So, as she tripped gaily and lightly along the thoroughfares, the +children would draw aside from her path, and whisper with superstitious +fear mingled with contempt, "It's the idiot girl!"--Idiot--how much more +of heaven's light was there in that cloud than in the rushlights that, +flickering in sordid chambers, shed on dull things the dull ray--esteeming +themselves as stars! + +Months-years passed--Fanny was thirteen, when there dawned a new era to +her existence. Mrs. Boxer had never got over her first grudge to Fanny. +Her treatment of the poor girl was always harsh, and sometimes cruel. +But Fanny did not complain, and as Mrs. Boxer's manner to her before +Simon was invariably cringing and caressing, the old man never guessed +the hardships his supposed grandchild underwent. There had been scandal +some years back in the suburb about the relative connexion of the master +and the housekeeper; and the flaunting dress of the latter, something +bold in her regard, and certain whispers that her youth had not been +vowed to Vesta, confirmed the suspicion. The only reason why we do not +feel sure that the rumour was false is this,--Simon Gawtrey had been so +hard on the early follies of his son! Certainly, at all events, the +woman had exercised great influence over the miser before the arrival of +Fanny, and she had done much to steel his selfishness against the ill- +fated William. And, as certainly, she had fully calculated on succeeding +to the savings, whatever they might be, of the miser, whenever Providence +should be pleased to terminate his days. She knew that Simon had, many +years back, made his will in her favour; she knew that he had not altered +that will: she believed, therefore, that in spite of all his love for +Fanny, he loved his gold so much more, that be could not accustom himself +to the thought of bequeathing it to hands too helpless to guard the +treasure. This had in some measure reconciled the housekeeper to the +intruder; whom, nevertheless, she hated as a dog hates another dog, not +only for taking his bone, but for looking at it. + +But suddenly Simon fell ill. His age made it probable he would die. He +took to his bed--his breathing grew fainter and fainter--he seemed dead. +Fanny, all unconscious, sat by his bedside as usual, holding her breath +not to waken him. Mrs. Boxer flew to the bureau--she unlocked it--she +could not find the will; but she found three bags of bright gold guineas: +the sight charmed her. She tumbled them forth on the distained green +cloth of the bureau--she began to count them; and at that moment, the old +man, as if there were a secret magnetism between himself and the guineas, +woke from his trance. His blindness saved him the pain that might have +been fatal, of seeing the unhallowed profanation; but he heard the chink +of the metal. The very sound restored his strength. But the infirm are +always cunning--he breathed not a suspicion. "Mrs. Boxer," said he, +faintly, "I think I could take some broth." Mrs. Boxer rose in great +dismay, gently re-closed the bureau, and ran down-stairs for the broth. +Simon took the occasion to question Fanny; and no sooner had he learnt +the operation of the heir-expectant, than he bade the girl first lock the +bureau and bring him the key, and next run to a lawyer (whose address he +gave her), and fetch him instantly. + +With a malignant smile the old man took the broth from his handmaid,-- +"Poor Boxer, you are a disinterested creature," said he, feebly; "I +think you will grieve when I go." + +Mrs. Boxer sobbed, and before she had recovered, the lawyer entered. +That day a new will was made; and the lawyer politely informed Mrs. Boxer +that her services would be dispensed with the next morning, when he +should bring a nurse to the house. Mrs. Boxer heard, and took her +resolution. As soon as Simon again fell asleep, she crept into the room- +led away Fanny--locked her up in her own chamber--returned--searched for +the key of the bureau, which she found at last under Simon's pillow-- +possessed herself of all she could lay her hands on--and the next morning +she had disappeared forever! Simon's loss was greater than might have +been supposed; for, except a trifling sum in the savings bank, he, like +many other misers, kept all he had, in notes or specie, under his own +lock and key. His whole fortune, indeed, was far less than was supposed: +for money does not make money unless it is put out to interest,--and the +miser cheated himself. Such portion as was in bank-notes Mrs. Boxer +probably had the prudence to destroy; for those numbers which Simon could +remember were never traced; the gold, who could swear to? Except the +pittance in the savings bank, and whatever might be the paltry worth of +the house he rented, the father who had enriched the menial to exile the +son was a beggar in his dotage. This news, however, was carefully +concealed from him by the advice of the doctor, whom, on his own +responsibility, the lawyer introduced, till he had recovered sufficiently +to bear the shock without danger; and the delay naturally favoured Mrs. +Boxer's escape. + +Simon remained for some moments perfectly stunned and speechless when the +news was broken to him. Fanny, in alarm at his increasing paleness, +sprang to his breast. He pushed her away,--"Go--go--go, child," he +said; "I can't feed you now. Leave me to starve." + +"To starve!" said Fanny, wonderingly; and she stole away, and sat +herself down as if in deep thought. She then crept up to the lawyer as +he was about to leave the room, after exhausting his stock of commonplace +consolation; and putting her hand in his, whispered, "I want to talk to +you--this way:"--She led him through the passage into the open air. +"Tell me," she said, "when poor people try not to starve, don't they +work?" + +"My dear, yes." + +"For rich people buy poor people's work?" + +"Certainly, my dear; to be sure." + +"Very well. Mrs. Boxer used to sell my work. Fanny will feed grandpapa! +Go and tell him never to say 'starve' again." + +The good-natured lawyer was moved. "Can you work, indeed, my poor girl? +Well, put on your bonnet, and come and talk to my wife." + +And that was the new era in Fanny's existence! Her schooling was +stopped. But now life schooled her. Necessity ripened her intellect. +And many a hard eye moistened,--as, seeing her glide with her little +basket of fancy work along the streets, still murmuring her happy and +bird-like snatches of unconnected song--men and children alike said with +respect, in which there was now no contempt, "It's the idiot girl who +supports her blind grandfather!" They called her idiot still! + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, NIGHT AND MORNING, V3 *** +By Edward Bulwer Lytton + +****** This file should be named 9752.txt or 9752.zip ***** + +This eBook was produced by David Widger + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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