diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/b195w10.txt | 20952 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/b195w10.zip | bin | 0 -> 450045 bytes |
2 files changed, 20952 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/old/b195w10.txt b/old/b195w10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a7c4ed5 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/b195w10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,20952 @@ +Project Gutenberg EBook, Night and Morning by E. B. Lytton, Complete +#195 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, Complete + +Author: Edward Bulwer Lytton + +Release Date: January 2006 [EBook #9755] +[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 *** + + + + +This eBook was produced by David Widger [widger@cecomet.net] + + + + + + THE WORKS + + OF + + EDWARD BULWER LYTTON + + (LORD LYTTON) + + + NIGHT AND MORNING + + + +PREFACE + +TO THE EDITION OF 1845. + +Much has been written by critics, especially by those in Germany (the +native land of criticism), upon the important question, whether to please +or to instruct should be the end of Fiction--whether a moral purpose is +or is not in harmony with the undidactic spirit perceptible in the higher +works of the imagination. And the general result of the discussion has +been in favour of those who have contended that Moral Design, rigidly so +called, should be excluded from the aims of the Poet; that his Art should +regard only the Beautiful, and be contented with the indirect moral +tendencies, which can never fail the creation of the Beautiful. +Certainly, in fiction, to interest, to please, and sportively to elevate +--to take man from the low passions, and the miserable troubles of life, +into a higher region, to beguile weary and selfish pain, to excite a +genuine sorrow at vicissitudes not his own, to raise the passions into +sympathy with heroic struggles--and to admit the soul into that serener +atmosphere from which it rarely returns to ordinary existence, without +some memory or association which ought to enlarge the domain of thought +and exalt the motives of action;--such, without other moral result or +object, may satisfy the Poet,* and constitute the highest and most +universal morality he can effect. But subordinate to this, which is not +the duty, but the necessity, of all Fiction that outlasts the hour, the +writer of imagination may well permit to himself other purposes and +objects, taking care that they be not too sharply defined, and too +obviously meant to contract the Poet into the Lecturer--the Fiction into +the Homily. The delight in Shylock is not less vivid for the Humanity it +latently but profoundly inculcates; the healthful merriment of the +Tartufe is not less enjoyed for the exposure of the Hypocrisy it +denounces. We need not demand from Shakespeare or from Moliere other +morality than that which Genius unconsciously throws around it--the +natural light which it reflects; but if some great principle which guides +us practically in the daily intercourse with men becomes in the general +lustre more clear and more pronounced, we gain doubly, by the general +tendency and the particular result. + + *[I use the word Poet in its proper sense, as applicable to any + writer, whether in verse or prose, who invents or creates.] + +Long since, in searching for new regions in the Art to which I am a +servant, it seemed to me that they might be found lying far, and rarely +trodden, beyond that range of conventional morality in which Novelist +after Novelist had entrenched himself--amongst those subtle recesses in +the ethics of human life in which Truth and Falsehood dwell undisturbed +and unseparated. The vast and dark Poetry around us--the Poetry of +Modern Civilisation and Daily Existence, is shut out from us in much, by +the shadowy giants of Prejudice and Fear. He who would arrive at the +Fairy Land must face the Phantoms. Betimes, I set myself to the task of +investigating the motley world to which our progress in humanity--has +attained, caring little what misrepresentation I incurred, what hostility +I provoked, in searching through a devious labyrinth for the foot-tracks +of Truth. + +In the pursuit of this object, I am, not vainly, conscious that I have +had my influence on my time--that I have contributed, though humbly and +indirectly, to the benefits which Public Opinion has extorted from +Governments and Laws. While (to content myself with a single example) +the ignorant or malicious were decrying the moral of Paul Clifford, I +consoled myself with perceiving that its truths had stricken deep--that +many, whom formal essays might not reach, were enlisted by the picture +and the popular force of Fiction into the service of that large and +Catholic Humanity which frankly examines into the causes of crime, which +ameliorates the ills of society by seeking to amend the circumstances by +which they are occasioned; and commences the great work of justice to +mankind by proportioning the punishment to the offence. That work, I +know, had its share in the wise and great relaxation of our Criminal +Code--it has had its share in results yet more valuable, because leading +to more comprehensive reforms-viz., in the courageous facing of the ills +which the mock decorum of timidity would shun to contemplate, but which, +till fairly fronted, in the spirit of practical Christianity, sap daily, +more and more, the walls in which blind Indolence would protect itself +from restless Misery and rampant Hunger. For it is not till Art has told +the unthinking that nothing (rightly treated) is too low for its breath +to vivify and its wings to raise, that the Herd awaken from their chronic +lethargy of contempt, and the Lawgiver is compelled to redress what the +Poet has lifted into esteem. In thus enlarging the boundaries of the +Novelist, from trite and conventional to untrodden ends, I have seen, not +with the jealousy of an author, but with the pride of an Originator, that +I have served as a guide to later and abler writers, both in England and +abroad. If at times, while imitating, they have mistaken me, I am not. +answerable for their errors; or if, more often, they have improved where +they borrowed, I am not envious of their laurels. They owe me at least +this, that I prepared the way for their reception, and that they would +have been less popular and more misrepresented, if the outcry which +bursts upon the first researches into new directions had not exhausted +its noisy vehemence upon me. + +In this Novel of _Night and Morning_ I have had various ends in view-- +subordinate, I grant, to the higher and more durable morality which +belongs to the Ideal, and instructs us playfully while it interests, in +the passions, and through the heart. First--to deal fearlessly with that +universal unsoundness in social justice which makes distinctions so +marked and iniquitous between Vice and Crime--viz., between the +corrupting habits and the violent act--which scarce touches the former +with the lightest twig in the fasces--which lifts against the latter the +edge of the Lictor's axe. Let a child steal an apple in sport, let a +starveling steal a roll in despair, and Law conducts them to the Prison, +for evil commune to mellow them for the gibbet. But let a man spend one +apprenticeship from youth to old age in vice--let him devote a fortune, +perhaps colossal, to the wholesale demoralisation of his kind--and he may +be surrounded with the adulation of the so-called virtuous, and be served +upon its knee, by that Lackey--the Modern World! I say not that Law can, +or that Law should, reach the Vice as it does the Crime; but I say, that +Opinion may be more than the servile shadow of Law. I impress not here, +as in _Paul Clifford_, a material moral to work its effect on the +Journals, at the Hastings, through Constituents, and on Legislation;--I +direct myself to a channel less active, more tardy, but as sure--to the +Conscience--that reigns elder and superior to all Law, in men's hearts +and souls;--I utter boldly and loudly a truth, if not all untold, +murmured feebly and falteringly before, sooner or later it will find its +way into the judgment and the conduct, and shape out a tribunal which +requires not robe or ermine. + +Secondly--In this work I have sought to lift the mask from the timid +selfishness which too often with us bears the name of Respectability. +Purposely avoiding all attraction that may savour of extravagance, +patiently subduing every tone and every hue to the aspect of those whom +we meet daily in our thoroughfares, I have shown in Robert Beaufort the +man of decorous phrase and bloodless action--the systematic self-server-- +in whom the world forgive the lack of all that is generous, warm, and +noble, in order to respect the passive acquiescence in methodical +conventions and hollow forms. And how common such men are with us in +this century, and how inviting and how necessary their delineation, may +be seen in this,--that the popular and pre-eminent Observer of the age in +which we live has since placed their prototype in vigorous colours upon +imperishable canvas.--[Need I say that I allude to the Pecksniff of Mr. +Dickens?] + +There is yet another object with which I have identified my tale. I +trust that I am not insensible to such advantages as arise from the +diffusion of education really sound, and knowledge really available;--for +these, as the right of my countrymen, I have contended always. But of +late years there has been danger that what ought to be an important truth +may be perverted into a pestilent fallacy. Whether for rich or for poor, +disappointment must ever await the endeavour to give knowledge without +labour, and experience without trial. Cheap literature and popular +treatises do not in themselves suffice to fit the nerves of man for the +strife below, and lift his aspirations, in healthful confidence above. +He who seeks to divorce toil from knowledge deprives knowledge of its +most valuable property.--the strengthening of the mind by exercise. We +learn what really braces and elevates us only in proportion to the effort +it costs us. Nor is it in Books alone, nor in Books chiefly, that we are +made conscious of our strength as Men; Life is the great Schoolmaster, +Experience the mighty Volume. He who has made one stern sacrifice of +self has acquired more than he will ever glean from the odds and ends of +popular philosophy. And the man the least scholastic may be more robust +in the power that is knowledge, and approach nearer to the Arch-Seraphim, +than Bacon himself, if he cling fast to two simple maxims--"Be honest in +temptation, and in Adversity believe in God." Such moral, attempted +before in Eugene Aram, I have enforced more directly here; and out of +such convictions I have created hero and heroine, placing them in their +primitive and natural characters, with aid more from life than books,-- +from courage the one, from affection the other--amidst the feeble +Hermaphrodites of our sickly civilisation;--examples of resolute Manhood +and tender Womanhood. + +The opinions I have here put forth are not in fashion at this day. But I +have never consulted the popular any more than the sectarian, Prejudice. +Alone and unaided I have hewn out my way, from first to last, by the +force of my own convictions. The corn springs up in the field centuries +after the first sower is forgotten. Works may perish with the workman; +but, if truthful, their results are in the works of others, imitating, +borrowing, enlarging, and improving, in the everlasting Cycle of Industry +and Thought. + +Knebworth, 1845. + + + +NOTE TO THE PRESENT EDITION, 1851. + +I have nothing to add to the preceding pages, written six years ago, as +to the objects and aims of this work; except to say, and by no means as a +boast, that the work lays claims to one kind of interest which I +certainly never desired to effect for it--viz., in exemplifying the +glorious uncertainty of the Law. For, humbly aware of the blunders which +Novelists not belonging to the legal profession are apt to commit, when +they summon to the _denouement_ of a plot the aid of a deity so +mysterious as Themis, I submitted to an eminent lawyer the whole case of +"Beaufort versus Beaufort," as it stands in this Novel. And the pages +which refer to that suit were not only written from the opinion annexed +to the brief I sent in, but submitted to the eye of my counsel, and +revised by his pen.--(N.B. He was feed.) Judge then my dismay when I +heard long afterwards that the late Mr. O'Connell disputed the soundness +of the law I had thus bought and paid for! "Who shall decide when +doctors disagree?" All I can say is, that I took the best opinion that +love or money could get me; and I should add, that my lawyer, unawed by +the alleged _ipse dixit_ of the great Agitator (to be sure, he is dead), +still stoutly maintains his own views of the question. + + [I have, however, thought it prudent so far to meet the objection + suggested by Mr. O'Connell, as to make a slight alteration in this + edition, which will probably prevent the objection, if correct, + being of any material practical effect on the disposition of that + visionary El Dorado--the Beaufort Property.] + +Let me hope that the right heir will live long enough to come under the +Statute of Limitations. Possession is nine points of the law, and Time +may give the tenth. + +Knebworth. + + + + +NIGHT AND MORNING. + +BOOK I. + + "Noch in meines Lebens Lenze + War ich and ich wandert' aus, + Und der Jugend frohe Tanze + Liess ich in des Vaters Haus." + + SCHILLER, Der Pilgrim. + + +INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. + + "Now rests our vicar. They who knew him best, + Proclaim his life to have been entirely rest; + Not one so old has left this world of sin, + More like the being that he entered in."--CRABBE. + +In one of the Welsh counties is a small village called A----. It is +somewhat removed from the high road, and is, therefore, but little known +to those luxurious amateurs of the picturesque, who view nature through +the windows of a carriage and four. Nor, indeed, is there anything, +whether of scenery or association, in the place itself, sufficient to +allure the more sturdy enthusiast from the beaten tracks which tourists +and guide-books prescribe to those who search the Sublime and Beautiful +amidst the mountain homes of the ancient Britons. Still, on the whole, +the village is not without its attractions. It is placed in a small +valley, through which winds and leaps down many a rocky fall, a clear, +babbling, noisy rivulet, that affords excellent sport to the brethren of +the angle. Thither, accordingly, in the summer season occasionally +resort the Waltons of the neighbourhood--young farmers, retired traders, +with now and then a stray artist, or a roving student from one of the +universities. Hence the solitary hostelry of A----, being somewhat more +frequented, is also more clean and comfortable than could reasonably be +anticipated from the insignificance and remoteness of the village. + +At a time in which my narrative opens, the village boasted a sociable, +agreeable, careless, half-starved parson, who never failed to introduce +himself to any of the anglers who, during the summer months, passed a day +or two in the little valley. The Rev. Mr. Caleb Price had been educated +at the University of Cambridge, where he had contrived, in three years, +to run through a little fortune of L3500. It is true, that he acquired +in return the art of making milkpunch, the science of pugilism, and the +reputation of one of the best-natured, rattling, open-hearted companions +whom you could desire by your side in a tandem to Newmarket, or in a row +with the bargemen. By the help of these gifts and accomplishments, he +had not failed to find favour, while his money lasted, with the young +aristocracy of the "Gentle Mother." And, though the very reverse of an +ambitious or calculating man, he had certainly nourished the belief that +some one of the "hats" or "tinsel gowns"--i.e., young lords or fellow- +commoners, with whom he was on such excellent terms, and who supped with +him so often, would do something for him in the way of a living. But it +so happened that when Mr. Caleb Price had, with a little difficulty, +scrambled through his degree, and found himself a Bachelor of Arts and at +the end of his finances, his grand acquaintances parted from him to their +various posts in the State Militant of Life. And, with the exception of +one, joyous and reckless as himself, Mr. Caleb Price found that when +Money makes itself wings it flies away with our friends. As poor Price +had earned no academical distinction, so he could expect no advancement +from his college; no fellowship; no tutorship leading hereafter to +livings, stalls, and deaneries. Poverty began already to stare him in +the face, when the only friend who, having shared his prosperity, +remained true to his adverse fate,--a friend, fortunately for him, of +high connections and brilliant prospects--succeeded in obtaining for him +the humble living of A----. To this primitive spot the once jovial +roisterer cheerfully retired--contrived to live contented upon an income +somewhat less than he had formerly given to his groom--preached very +short sermons to a very scanty and ignorant congregation, some of whom +only understood Welsh--did good to the poor and sick in his own careless, +slovenly way--and, uncheered or unvexed by wife and children, he rose in +summer with the lark and in winter went to bed at nine precisely, to save +coals and candles. For the rest, he was the most skilful angler in the +whole county; and so willing to communicate the results of his experience +as to the most taking colour of the flies, and the most favoured haunts +of the trout--that he had given especial orders at the inn, that whenever +any strange gentleman came to fish, Mr. Caleb Price should be immediately +sent for. In this, to be sure, our worthy pastor had his usual +recompense. First, if the stranger were tolerably liberal, Mr. Price was +asked to dinner at the inn; and, secondly, if this failed, from the +poverty or the churlishness of the obliged party, Mr. Price still had an +opportunity to hear the last news--to talk about the Great World--in a +word, to exchange ideas, and perhaps to get an old newspaper, or an odd +number of a magazine. + +Now, it so happened that one afternoon in October, when the periodical +excursions of the anglers, becoming gradually rarer and more rare, had +altogether ceased, Mr. Caleb Price was summoned from his parlour in which +he had been employed in the fabrication of a net for his cabbages, by a +little white-headed boy, who came to say there was a gentleman at the inn +who wished immediately to see him--a strange gentleman, who had never +been there before. + +Mr. Price threw down his net, seized his hat, and, in less than five +minutes, he was in the best room of the little inn. + +The person there awaiting him was a man who, though plainly clad in a +velveteen shooting-jacket, had an air and mien greatly above those common +to the pedestrian visitors of A----. He was tall, and of one of those +athletic forms in which vigour in youth is too often followed by +corpulence in age. At this period, however, in the full prime of +manhood--the ample chest and sinewy limbs, seen to full advantage in +their simple and manly dress--could not fail to excite that popular +admiration which is always given to strength in the one sex as to +delicacy in the other. The stranger was walking impatiently to and fro +the small apartment when Mr. Price entered; and then, turning to the +clergyman a countenance handsome and striking, but yet more prepossessing +from its expression of frankness than from the regularity of its +features,--he stopped short, held out his hand, and said, with a gay +laugh, as he glanced over the parson's threadbare and slovenly costume, +"My poor Caleb!--what a metamorphosis!--I should not have known you +again!" + +"What! you! Is it possible, my dear fellow?--how glad I am to see you! +What on earth can bring you to such a place? No! not a soul would +believe me if I said I had seen you in this miserable hole." + +"That is precisely the reason why I am here. Sit down, Caleb, and we'll +talk over matters as soon as our landlord has brought up the materials +for--" + +"The milk-punch," interrupted Mr. Price, rubbing his hands. + +"Ah, that will bring us back to old times, indeed!" + +In a few minutes the punch was prepared, and after two or three +preparatory glasses, the stranger thus commenced: "My dear Caleb, I am in +want of your assistance, and above all of your secrecy." + +"I promise you both beforehand. It will make me happy the rest of my +life to think I have served my patron--my benefactor--the only friend I +possess." + +"Tush, man! don't talk of that: we shall do better for you one of these +days. But now to the point: I have come here to be married--married, old +boy! married!" + +And the stranger threw himself back in his chair, and chuckled with the +glee of a schoolboy. + +"Humph!" said the parson, gravely. "It is a serious thing to do, and a +very odd place to come to." + +"I admit both propositions: this punch is superb. To proceed. You know +that my uncle's immense fortune is at his own disposal; if I disobliged +him, he would be capable of leaving all to my brother; I should disoblige +him irrevocably if he knew that I had married a tradesman's daughter; I +am going to marry a tradesman's daughter--a girl in a million! the +ceremony must be as secret as possible. And in this church, with you for +the priest, I do not see a chance of discovery." + +"Do you marry by license?" + +"No, my intended is not of age; and we keep the secret even from her +father. In this village you will mumble over the bans without one of +your congregation ever taking heed of the name. I shall stay here a +month for the purpose. She is in London, on a visit to a relation in the +city. The bans on her side will be published with equal privacy in a +little church near the Tower, where my name will be no less unknown than +hers. Oh, I've contrived it famously!" + +"But, my dear fellow, consider what you risk." + +"I have considered all, and I find every chance in my favour. The bride +will arrive here on the day of our wedding: my servant will be one +witness; some stupid old Welshman, as antediluvian as possible--I leave +it to you to select him--shall be the other. My servant I shall dispose +of, and the rest I can depend on." + +"But--" + +"I detest buts; if I had to make a language, I would not admit such a +word in it. And now, before I run on about Catherine, a subject quite +inexhaustible, tell me, my dear friend, something about yourself." + + . . . . . . . + +Somewhat more than a month had elapsed since the arrival of the stranger +at the village inn. He had changed his quarters for the Parsonage--went +out but little, and then chiefly on foot excursions among the sequestered +hills in the neighbourhood. He was therefore but partially known by +sight, even in the village; and the visit of some old college friend to +the minister, though indeed it had never chanced before, was not, in +itself, so remarkable an event as to excite any particular observation. +The bans had been duly, and half audibly, hurried over, after the service +was concluded, and while the scanty congregation were dispersing down the +little aisle of the church,--when one morning a chaise and pair arrived +at the Parsonage. A servant out of livery leaped from the box. The +stranger opened the door of the chaise, and, uttering a joyous +exclamation, gave his arm to a lady, who, trembling and agitated, could +scarcely, even with that stalwart support, descend the steps. "Ah!" she +said, in a voice choked with tears, when they found themselves alone in +the little parlour,--"ah! if you knew how I have suffered!" + +How is it that certain words, and those the homeliest, which the hand +writes and the eye reads as trite and commonplace expressions--when +spoken convey so much,--so many meanings complicated and refined? "Ah! +if you knew how I have suffered!" + +When the lover heard these words, his gay countenance fell; he drew back +--his conscience smote him: in that complaint was the whole history of a +clandestine love, not for both the parties, but for the woman--the +painful secrecy--the remorseful deceit--the shame--the fear--the +sacrifice. She who uttered those words was scarcely sixteen. It is an +early age to leave Childhood behind for ever! + +"My own love! you have suffered, indeed; but it is over now. + +"Over! And what will they say of me--what will they think of me at home? +Over! Ah!" + +"It is but for a short time; in the course of nature my uncle cannot live +long: all then will be explained. Our marriage once made public, all +connected with you will be proud to own you. You will have wealth, +station--a name among the first in the gentry of England. But, above +all, you will have the happiness to think that your forbearance for a +time has saved me, and, it may be, our children, sweet one!--from poverty +and--" + +"It is enough," interrupted the girl; and the expression of her +countenance became serene and elevated. "It is for you--for your sake. +I know what you hazard: how much I must owe you! Forgive me, this is the +last murmur you shall ever hear from these lips." + +An hour after these words were spoken, the marriage ceremony was +concluded. + +"Caleb," said the bridegroom, drawing the clergyman aside as they were +about to re-enter the house, "you will keep your promise, I know; and you +think I may depend implicitly upon the good faith of the witness you have +selected?" + +"Upon his good faith?--no," said Caleb, smiling, "but upon his deafness, +his ignorance, and his age. My poor old clerk! He will have forgotten +all about it before this day three months. Now I have seen your lady, I +no longer wonder that you incur so great a risk. I never beheld so +lovely a countenance. You will be happy!" And the village priest +sighed, and thought of the coming winter and his own lonely hearth. + +"My dear friend, you have only seen her beauty--it is her least charm. +Heaven knows how often I have made love; and this is the only woman I +have ever really loved. Caleb, there is an excellent living that adjoins +my uncle's house. The rector is old; when the house is mine, you will +not be long without the living. We shall be neighbours, Caleb, and then +you shall try and find a bride for yourself. Smith,"--and the bridegroom +turned to the servant who had accompanied his wife, and served as a +second witness to the marriage,--tell the post-boy to put to the horses +immediately." + +"Yes, Sir. May I speak a word with you?" + +"Well, what?" + +"Your uncle, sir, sent for me to come to him, the day before we left +town." + +"Aha!--indeed!" + +"And I could just pick up among his servants that he had some suspicion-- +at least, that he had been making inquiries--and seemed very cross, sir." + +"You went to him?" + +"No, Sir, I was afraid. He has such a way with him;--whenever his eye is +fixed on mine, I always feel as if it was impossible to tell a lie; and-- +and--in short, I thought it was best not to go." + +"You did right. Confound this fellow!" muttered the bridegroom, turning +away; "he is honest, and loves me: yet, if my uncle sees him, he is +clumsy enough to betray all. Well, I always meant to get him out of the +way--the sooner the better. Smith!" + +"Yes, sir!" + +"You have often said that you should like, if you had some capital, to +settle in Australia. Your father is an excellent farmer; you are above +the situation you hold with me; you are well educated, and have some +knowledge of agriculture; you can scarcely fail to make a fortune as a +settler; and if you are of the same mind still, why, look you, I have +just L1000. at my bankers: you shall have half, if you like to sail by +the first packet." + +"Oh, sir, you are too generous." + +"Nonsense--no thanks--I am more prudent than generous; for I agree with +you that it is all up with me if my uncle gets hold of you. I dread my +prying brother, too; in fact, the obligation is on my side; only stay +abroad till I am a rich man, and my marriage made public, and then you +may ask of me what you will. It's agreed, then; order the horses, we'll +go round by Liverpool, and learn about the vessels. By the way, my good +fellow, I hope you see nothing now of that good-for-nothing brother of +yours?" + +"No, indeed, sir. It's a thousand pities he has turned out so ill; for +he was the cleverest of the family, and could always twist me round his +little finger." + +"That's the very reason I mentioned him. If he learned our secret, he +would take it to an excellent market. Where is he?" + +"Hiding, I suspect, sir." + +"Well, we shall put the sea between you and him! So now all's safe." + +Caleb stood by the porch of his house as the bride and bridegroom entered +their humble vehicle. Though then November, the day was exquisitely mild +and calm, the sky without a cloud, and even the leafless trees seemed to +smile beneath the cheerful sun. And the young bride wept no more; she +was with him she loved--she was his for ever. She forgot the rest. The +hope--the heart of sixteen--spoke brightly out through the blushes that +mantled over her fair cheeks. The bridegroom's frank and manly +countenance was radiant with joy. As he waved his hand to Caleb from the +window the post-boy cracked his whip, the servant settled himself on the +dickey, the horses started off in a brisk trot,--the clergyman was left +alone. + +To be married is certainly an event in life; to marry other people is, +for a priest, a very ordinary occurrence; and yet, from that day, a great +change began to operate in the spirits and the habits of Caleb Price. +Have you ever, my gentle reader, buried yourself for some time quietly in +the lazy ease of a dull country-life? Have you ever become gradually +accustomed to its monotony, and inured to its solitude; and, just at the +time when you have half-forgotten the great world--that _mare magnum_ +that frets and roars in the distance--have you ever received in your calm +retreat some visitor, full of the busy and excited life which you +imagined yourself contented to relinquish? If so, have you not +perceived, that, in proportion as his presence and communication either +revived old memories, or brought before you new pictures of "the bright +tumult" of that existence of which your guest made a part,--you began to +compare him curiously with yourself; you began to feel that what before +was to rest is now to rot; that your years are gliding from you unenjoyed +and wasted; that the contrast between the animal life of passionate +civilisation and the vegetable torpor of motionless seclusion is one +that, if you are still young, it tasks your philosophy to bear,--feeling +all the while that the torpor may be yours to your grave? And when your +guest has left you, when you are again alone, is the solitude the same as +it was before? + +Our poor Caleb had for years rooted his thoughts to his village. His +guest had been like the Bird in the Fairy Tale, settling upon the quiet +branches, and singing so loudly and so gladly of the enchanted skies +afar, that, when it flew away, the tree pined, nipped and withering in +the sober sun in which before it had basked contented. The guest was, +indeed, one of those men whose animal spirits exercise upon such as come +within their circle the influence and power usually ascribed only to +intellectual qualities. During the month he had sojourned with Caleb, he +had brought back to the poor parson all the gaiety of the brisk and noisy +novitiate that preceded the solemn vow and the dull retreat;--the social +parties, the merry suppers, the open-handed, open-hearted fellowship of +riotous, delightful, extravagant, thoughtless YOUTH. And Caleb was not a +bookman--not a scholar; he had no resources in himself, no occupation but +his indolent and ill-paid duties. The emotions, therefore, of the Active +Man were easily aroused within him. But if this comparison between his +past and present life rendered him restless and disturbed, how much more +deeply and lastingly was he affected by a contrast between his own future +and that of his friend! Not in those points where he could never hope +equality--wealth and station--the conventional distinctions to which, +after all, a man of ordinary sense must sooner or later reconcile +himself--but in that one respect wherein all, high and low, pretend to +the same rights--rights which a man of moderate warmth of feeling can +never willingly renounce--viz., a partner in a lot however obscure; a +kind face by a hearth, no matter how mean it be! And his happier friend, +like all men full of life, was full of himself--full of his love, of his +future, of the blessings of home, and wife, and children. Then, too, the +young bride seemed so fair, so confiding, and so tender; so formed to +grace the noblest or to cheer the humblest home! And both were so happy, +so all in all to each other, as they left that barren threshold! And the +priest felt all this, as, melancholy and envious, he turned from the door +in that November day, to find himself thoroughly alone. He now began +seriously to muse upon those fancied blessings which men wearied with +celibacy see springing, heavenward, behind the altar. A few weeks +afterwards a notable change was visible in the good man's exterior. He +became more careful of his dress, he shaved every morning, he purchased a +crop-eared Welsh cob; and it was soon known in the neighbourhood that the +only journey the cob was ever condemned to take was to the house of a +certain squire, who, amidst a family of all ages, boasted two very pretty +marriageable daughters. That was the second holy day-time of poor Caleb +--the love-romance of his life: it soon closed. On learning the amount +of the pastor's stipend the squire refused to receive his addresses; and, +shortly after, the girl to whom he had attached himself made what the +world calls a happy match: and perhaps it was one, for I never heard that +she regretted the forsaken lover. Probably Caleb was not one of those +whose place in a woman's heart is never to be supplied. The lady +married, the world went round as before, the brook danced as merrily +through the village, the poor worked on the week-days, and the urchins +gambolled round the gravestones on the Sabbath,--and the pastor's heart +was broken. He languished gradually and silently away. The villagers +observed that he had lost his old good-humoured smile; that he did not +stop every Saturday evening at the carrier's gate, to ask if there were +any news stirring in the town which the carrier weekly visited; that he +did not come to borrow the stray newspapers that now and then found their +way into the village; that, as he sauntered along the brookside, his +clothes hung loose on his limbs, and that he no longer "whistled as he +went;" alas, he was no longer "in want of thought!" By degrees, the +walks themselves were suspended; the parson was no longer visible: a +stranger performed his duties. + +One day, it might be some three years and more after the fatal visit I +have commemorated--one very wild rough day in early March, the postman, +who made the round of the district, rang at the parson's bell. The +single female servant, her red hair loose on her neck, replied to the +call. + +"And how is the master?" + +"Very bad;" and the girl wiped her eyes. + +"He should leave you something handsome," remarked the postman, kindly, +as he pocketed the money for the letter. + +The pastor was in bed--the boisterous wind rattled clown the chimney and +shook the ill-fitting casement in its rotting frame. The clothes he had +last worn were thrown carelessly about, unsmoothed, unbrushed; the scanty +articles of furniture were out of their proper places; slovenly +discomfort marked the death-chamber. And by the bedside stood a +neighbouring clergyman, a stout, rustic, homely, thoroughly Welsh priest, +who might have sat for the portrait of Parson Adams. + +"Here's a letter for you," said the visitor. + +"For me!" echoed Caleb, feebly. "Ah--well--is it not very dark, or are +my eyes failing?" The clergyman and the servant drew aside the curtains +and propped the sick man up: he read as follows, slowly, and with +difficulty: + +"DEAR, CALEB,--At last I can do something for you. A friend of mine has +a living in his gift just vacant, worth, I understand, from three to four +hundred a year: pleasant neighbourhood--small parish. And my friend +keeps the hounds!--just the thing for you. He is, however, a very +particular sort of person--wants a companion, and has a horror of +anything evangelical; wishes, therefore, to see you before he decides. +If you can meet me in London, some day next month, I'll present you to +him, and I have no doubt it will be settled. You must think it strange I +never wrote to you since we parted, but you know I never was a very good +correspondent; and as I had nothing to communicate advantageous to you I +thought it a sort of insult to enlarge on my own happiness, and so forth. +All I shall say on that score is, that I've sown my wild oats; and that +you may take my word for it, there's nothing that can make a man know how +large, the heart is, and how little the world, till he comes home +(perhaps after a hard day's hunting) and sees his own fireside, and hears +one dear welcome; and--oh, by the way, Caleb, if you could but see my +boy, the sturdiest little rogue! But enough of this. All that vexes me +is, that I've never yet been able to declare my marriage: my uncle, +however, suspects nothing: my wife bears up against all, like an angel as +she is; still, in case of any accident, it occurs to me, now I'm writing +to you, especially if you leave the place, that it may be as well to send +me an examined copy of the register. In those remote places registers +are often lost or mislaid; and it may be useful hereafter, when I +proclaim the marriage, to clear up all doubt as to the fact. +"Good-bye, old fellow, +"Yours most truly, &c., &c." + + +"It comes too late," sighed Caleb, heavily; and the letter fell from his +hands. There was a long pause. "Close the shutters," said the sick man, +at last; "I think I could sleep: and--and--pick up that letter." + +With a trembling, but eager gripe, he seized the paper, as a miser would +seize the deeds of an estate on which he has a mortgage. He smoothed the +folds, looked complacently at the well-known hand, smiled--a ghastly +smile! and then placed the letter under his pillow, and sank down; they +left him alone. He did not wake for some hours, and that good clergyman, +poor as himself, was again at his post. The only friendships that are +really with us in the hour of need are those which are cemented by +equality of circumstance. In the depth of home, in the hour of +tribulation, by the bed of death, the rich and the poor are seldom found +side by side. Caleb was evidently much feebler; but his sense seemed +clearer than it had been, and the instincts of his native kindness were +the last that left him. "There is something he wants me do for him," he +muttered. + +"Ah! I remember: Jones, will you send for the parish register? It is +somewhere in the vestry-room, I think--but nothing's kept properly. +Better go yourself--'tis important." + +Mr. Jones nodded, and sallied forth. The register was not in the vestry; +the church-wardens knew nothing about it; the clerk--a new clerk, who was +also the sexton, and rather a wild fellow--had gone ten miles off to a +wedding: every place was searched; till, at last, the book was found, +amidst a heap of old magazines and dusty papers, in the parlour of Caleb +himself. By the time it was brought to him, the sufferer was fast +declining; with some difficulty his dim eye discovered the place where, +amidst the clumsy pothooks of the parishioners, the large clear hand of +the old friend, and the trembling characters of the bride, looked forth, +distinguished. + +"Extract this for me, will you?" said Caleb. Mr. Jones obeyed. + +"Now, just write above the extract: + +"'Sir,--By Mr. Price's desire I send you the inclosed. He is too ill to +write himself. But he bids me say that he has never been quite the same +man since you left him; and that, if he should not get well again, still +your kind letter has made him easier in his mind." + +Caleb stopped. + +"Go on." + +"That is all I have to say: sign your name, and put the address--here it +is. Ah, the letter," he muttered, "must not lie about! If anything +happens to me, it may get him into trouble." + +And as Mr. Jones sealed his communication, Caleb feebly stretched his wan +hand, held the letter which had "come too late" over the flame of the +candle. As the blazing paper dropped on the carpetless floor, Mr. Jones +prudently set thereon the broad sole of his top-boot, and the maidservant +brushed the tinder into the grate. + +"Ah, trample it out:--hurry it amongst the ashes. The last as the rest," +said Caleb, hoarsely. "Friendship, fortune, hope, love, life--a little +flame, and then--and then--" + +"Don't be uneasy--it's quite out!" said Mr. Jones. Caleb turned his +face to the wall. He lingered till the next day, when he passed +insensibly from sleep to death. As soon as the breath was out of his +body, Mr. Jones felt that his duty was discharged, that other duties +called him home. He promised to return to read the burial-service over +the deceased, gave some hasty orders about the plain funeral, and was +turning from the room, when he saw the letter he had written by Caleb's +wish, still on the table. "I pass the post-office--I'll put it in," said +he to the weeping servant; "and just give me that scrap of paper." So he +wrote on the scrap, "P. S. He died this morning at half-past twelve, +without pain.--M. J.;" and not taking the trouble to break the seal, +thrust the final bulletin into the folds of the letter, which he then +carefully placed in his vast pocket, and safely transferred to the post. +And that was all that the jovial and happy man, to whom the letter was +addressed, ever heard of the last days of his college friend. + +The living, vacant by the death of Caleb Price, was not so valuable as to +plague the patron with many applications. It continued vacant nearly the +whole of the six months prescribed by law. And the desolate parsonage +was committed to the charge of one of the villagers, who had occasionally +assisted Caleb in the care of his little garden. The villager, his wife, +and half-a-dozen noisy, ragged children, took possession of the quiet +bachelor's abode. The furniture had been sold to pay the expenses of the +funeral, and a few trifling bills; and, save the kitchen and the two +attics, the empty house, uninhabited, was surrendered to the sportive +mischief of the idle urchins, who prowled about the silent chambers in +fear of the silence, and in ecstasy at the space. The bedroom in which +Caleb had died was, indeed, long held sacred by infantine superstition. +But one day the eldest boy having ventured across the threshold, two +cupboards, the doors standing ajar, attracted the child's curiosity. He +opened one, and his exclamation soon brought the rest of the children +round him. Have you ever, reader, when a boy, suddenly stumbled on that +El Dorado, called by the grown-up folks a lumber room? Lumber, indeed! +what _Virtu_ double-locks in cabinets is the real lumber to the boy! +Lumber, reader! to thee it was a treasury! Now this cupboard had been +the lumber-room in Caleb's household. In an instant the whole troop had +thrown themselves on the motley contents. Stray joints of clumsy +fishing-rods; artificial baits; a pair of worn-out top-boots, in which +one of the urchins, whooping and shouting, buried himself up to the +middle; moth-eaten, stained, and ragged, the collegian's gown-relic of +the dead man's palmy time; a bag of carpenter's tools, chiefly broken; a +cricket-bat; an odd boxing-glove; a fencing-foil, snapped in the middle; +and, more than all, some half-finished attempts at rude toys: a boat, a +cart, a doll's house, in which the good-natured Caleb had busied himself +for the younger ones of that family in which he had found the fatal ideal +of his trite life. One by one were these lugged forth from their dusty +slumber-profane hands struggling for the first right of appropriation. +And now, revealed against the wall, glared upon the startled violators of +the sanctuary, with glassy eyes and horrent visage, a grim monster. They +huddled back one upon the other, pale and breathless, till the eldest, +seeing that the creature moved not, took heart, approached on tip-toe- +twice receded, and twice again advanced, and finally drew out, daubed, +painted, and tricked forth in the semblance of a griffin, a gigantic +kite. + +The children, alas! were not old and wise enough to knew all the dormant +value of that imprisoned aeronaut, which had cost Caleb many a dull +evening's labour--the intended gift to the false one's favourite brother. +But they guessed that it was a thing or spirit appertaining of right to +them; and they resolved, after mature consultation, to impart the secret +of their discovery to an old wooden-legged villager, who had served in +the army, who was the idol of all the children of the place, and who, +they firmly believed, knew everything under the sun, except the mystical +arts of reading and writing. Accordingly, having seen that the coast was +clear--for they considered their parents (as the children of the hard- +working often do) the natural foes to amusement--they carried the monster +into an old outhouse, and ran to the veteran to beg him to come up slyly +and inspect its properties. + +Three months after this memorable event, arrived the new pastor--a slim, +prim, orderly, and starch young man, framed by nature and trained by +practice to bear a great deal of solitude and starving. Two loving +couples had waited to be married till his Reverence should arrive. The +ceremony performed, where was the registry-book? The vestry was +searched-the church-wardens interrogated; the gay clerk, who, on the +demise of his deaf predecessor, had come into office a little before +Caleb's last illness, had a dim recollection of having taken the registry +up to Mr. Price at the time the vestry-room was whitewashed. The house +was searched-the cupboard, the, mysterious cupboard, was explored. "Here +it is, sir!" cried the clerk; and he pounced upon a pale parchment +volume. The thin clergyman opened it, and recoiled in dismay--more than +three-fourths of the leaves had been torn out. + +"It is the moths, sir," said the gardener's wife, who had not yet removed +from the house. + +The clergyman looked round; one of the children was trembling. "What +have you done to this book, little one?" + +"That book?--the--hi!--hi!--" + +"Speak the truth, and you sha'n't be punished." + +"I did not know it was any harm--hi!--hi!--" + +"Well, and--" + +"And old Ben helped us." + +"Well?" + +"And--and--and--hi!--hi!--The tail of the kite, sir!--" + +"Where is the kite?" + +Alas! the kite and its tail were long ago gone to that undiscovered +limbo where all things lost, broken, vanished, and destroyed; things that +lose themselves--for servants are too honest to steal; things that break +themselves--for servants are too careful to break; find an everlasting +and impenetrable refuge. + +"It does not signify a pin's head," said the clerk; "the parish must find +a new 'un!" + +"It is no fault of mine," said the Pastor. "Are my chops ready?" + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +"And soothed with idle dreams the frowning fate."--CRABBE. + +"Why does not my father come back? what a time he has been away!" + +"My dear Philip, business detains him; but he will be here in a few days +--perhaps to-day!" + +"I should like him to see how much I am improved." + +"Improved in what, Philip?" said the mother, with a smile. "Not Latin, +I am sure; for I have not seen you open a book since you insisted on poor +Todd's dismissal." + +"Todd! Oh, he was such a scrub, and spoke through his nose: what could +he know of Latin?" + +"More than you ever will, I fear, unless--" and here there was a certain +hesitation in the mother's voice, "unless your father consents to your +going to school." + +"Well, I should like to go to Eton! That's the only school for a +gentleman. I've heard my father say so." + +"Philip, you are too proud."--"Proud! you often call me proud; but, +then, you kiss me when you do so. Kiss me now, mother." + +The lady drew her son to her breast, put aside the clustering hair from +his forehead, and kissed him; but the kiss was sad, and the moment after +she pushed him away gently and muttered, unconscious that she was +overheard: + +"If, after all, my devotion to the father should wrong the children!" + +The boy started, and a cloud passed over his brow; but he said nothing. +A light step entered the room through the French casements that opened on +the lawn, and the mother turned to her youngest-born, and her eye +brightened. + +"Mamma! mamma! here is a letter for you. I snatched it from John: it is +papa's handwriting." + +The lady uttered a joyous exclamation, and seized the letter. The +younger child nestled himself on a stool at her feet, looking up while +she read it; the elder stood apart, leaning on his gun, and with +something of thought, even of gloom, upon his countenance. + +There was a strong contrast in the two boys. The elder, who was about +fifteen, seemed older than he was, not only from his height, but from the +darkness of his complexion, and a certain proud, nay, imperious, +expression upon features that, without having the soft and fluent graces +of childhood, were yet regular and striking. His dark-green shooting- +dress, with the belt and pouch, the cap, with its gold tassel set upon +his luxuriant curls, which had the purple gloss of the raven's plume, +blended perhaps something prematurely manly in his own tastes, with the +love of the fantastic and the picturesque which bespeaks the presiding +genius of the proud mother. The younger son had scarcely told his ninth +year; and the soft, auburn ringlets, descending half-way down the +shoulders; the rich and delicate bloom that exhibits at once the hardy +health and the gentle fostering; the large deep-blue eyes; the flexile +and almost effeminate contour of the harmonious features; altogether made +such an ideal of childlike beauty as Lawrence had loved to paint or +Chantrey model. And the daintiest cares of a mother, who, as yet, has +her darling all to herself--her toy, her plaything--were visible in the +large falling collar of finest cambric, and the blue velvet dress with +its filigree buttons and embroidered sash. + +Both the boys had about them the air of those whom Fate ushers blandly +into life; the air of wealth, and birth, and luxury, spoiled and pampered +as if earth had no thorn for their feet, and heaven not a wind to visit +their young cheeks too roughly. The mother had been extremely handsome; +and though the first bloom of youth was now gone, she had still the +beauty that might captivate new love--an easier task than to retain the +old. Both her sons, though differing from each other, resembled her; she +had the features of the younger; and probably any one who had seen her in +her own earlier youth would have recognized in that child's gay yet +gentle countenance the mirror of the mother when a girl. Now, however, +especially when silent or thoughtful, the expression of her face was +rather that of the elder boy;--the cheek, once so rosy was now pale, +though clear, with something which time had given, of pride and thought, +in the curved lip and the high forehead. One who could have looked on +her in her more lonely hours, might have seen that the pride had known +shame, and the thought was the shadow of the passions of fear and sorrow. + +But now as she read those hasty, brief, but well-remembered characters-- +read as one whose heart was in her eyes--joy and triumph alone were +visible in that eloquent countenance. Her eyes flashed, her breast +heaved; and at length, clasping the letter to her lips, she kissed it +again and again with passionate transport. Then, as her eyes met the +dark, inquiring, earnest gaze of her eldest born, she flung her arms +round him, and wept vehemently. + +"What is the matter, mamma, dear mamma?" said the youngest, pushing +himself between Philip and his mother. "Your father is coming back, this +day--this very hour;--and you--you--child--you, Philip--" Here sobs broke +in upon her words, and left her speechless. + +The letter that had produced this effect ran as follows: + +TO MRS MORTON, Fernside Cottage. + +"DEAREST KATE,--My last letter prepared you for the news I have now to +relate--my poor uncle is no more. Though I had seen little of him, +especially of late years, his death sensibly affected me; but I have at +least the consolation of thinking that there is nothing now to prevent my +doing justice to you. I am the sole heir to his fortune--I have it in my +power, dearest Kate, to offer you a tardy recompense for all you have put +up with for my sake;--a sacred testimony to your long forbearance, your +unreproachful love, your wrongs, and your devotion. Our children, too-- +my noble Philip!--kiss them, Kate--kiss them for me a thousand times. + +"I write in great haste--the burial is just over, and my letter will only +serve to announce my return. My darling Catherine, I shall be with you +almost as soon as these lines meet your eyes--those clear eyes, that, for +all the tears they have shed for my faults and follies, have never looked +the less kind. Yours, ever as ever, + +"PHILIP BEAUFORT. + + +This letter has told its tale, and little remains to explain. Philip +Beaufort was one of those men of whom there are many in his peculiar +class of society--easy, thoughtless, good-humoured, generous, with +feelings infinitely better than his principles. + +Inheriting himself but a moderate fortune, which was three parts in the +hands of the Jews before he was twenty-five, he had the most brilliant +expectations from his uncle; an old bachelor, who, from a courtier, had +turned a misanthrope--cold--shrewd--penetrating--worldly--sarcastic--and +imperious; and from this relation he received, meanwhile, a handsome and, +indeed, munificent allowance. About sixteen years before the date at +which this narrative opens, Philip Beaufort had "run off," as the saying +is, with Catherine Morton, then little more than a child,--a motherless +child--educated at a boarding-school to notions and desires far beyond +her station; for she was the daughter of a provincial tradesman. And +Philip Beaufort, in the prime of life, was possessed of most of the +qualities that dazzle the eyes and many of the arts that betray the +affections. It was suspected by some that they were privately married: +if so, the secret had been closely kept, and baffled all the inquiries of +the stern old uncle. Still there was much, not only in the manner, at +once modest and dignified, but in the character of Catherine, which was +proud and high-spirited, to give colour to the suspicion. Beaufort, a +man naturally careless of forms, paid her a marked and punctilious +respect; and his attachment was evidently one not only of passion, but +of confidence and esteem. Time developed in her mental qualities far +superior to those of Beaufort, and for these she had ample leisure of +cultivation. To the influence derived from her mind and person she added +that of a frank, affectionate, and winning disposition; their children +cemented the bond between them. Mr. Beaufort was passionately attached +to field sports. He lived the greater part of the year with Catherine, +at the beautiful cottage to which he had built hunting stables that were +the admiration of the county; and though the cottage was near London, the +pleasures of the metropolis seldom allured him for more than a few days-- +generally but a few hours-at a time; and he--always hurried back with +renewed relish to what he considered his home. + +Whatever the connection between Catherine and himself (and of the true +nature of that connection, the Introductory Chapter has made the reader +more enlightened than the world), her influence had, at least, weaned +from all excesses, and many follies, a man who, before he knew her, had +seemed likely, from the extreme joviality and carelessness of his nature, +and a very imperfect education, to contract whatever vices were most in +fashion as preservatives against _ennui_. And if their union had been +openly hallowed by the Church, Philip Beaufort had been universally +esteemed the model of a tender husband and a fond father. Ever, as he +became more and more acquainted with Catherine's natural good qualities, +and more and more attached to his home, had Mr. Beaufort, with the +generosity of true affection, desired to remove from her the pain of an +equivocal condition by a public marriage. But Mr. Beaufort, though +generous, was not free from the worldliness which had met him everywhere, +amidst the society in which his youth had been spent. His uncle, the +head of one of those families which yearly vanish from the commonalty +into the peerage, but which once formed a distinguished peculiarity in +the aristocracy of England--families of ancient birth, immense +possessions, at once noble and untitled--held his estates by no other +tenure than his own caprice. Though he professed to like Philip, yet he +saw but little of him. When the news of the illicit connection his +nephew was reported to have formed reached him, he at first resolved to +break it off; but observing that Philip no longer gambled, nor ran in +debt, and had retired from the turf to the safer and more economical +pastimes of the field, he contented himself with inquiries which +satisfied him that Philip was not married; and perhaps he thought it, on +the whole, more prudent to wink at an error that was not attended by the +bills which had here-to-fore characterised the human infirmities of his +reckless nephew. He took care, however, incidentally, and in reference +to some scandal of the day, to pronounce his opinion, not upon the fault, +but upon the only mode of repairing it. + +"If ever," said he, and he looked grimly at Philip while he spoke, "a +gentleman were to disgrace his ancestry by introducing into his family +one whom his own sister could not receive at her house, why, he ought to +sink to her level, and wealth would but make his disgrace the more +notorious. If I had an only son, and that son were booby enough to do +anything so discreditable as to marry beneath him, I would rather have my +footman for my successor. You understand, Phil!" + +Philip did understand, and looked round at the noble house and the +stately park, and his generosity was not equal to the trial. Catherine +--so great was her power over him--might, perhaps, have easily triumphed +over his more selfish calculations; but her love was too delicate ever to +breathe, of itself, the hope that lay deepest at her heart. And her +children!--ah! for them she pined, but for them she also hoped. Before +them was a long future, and she had all confidence in Philip. Of late, +there had been considerable doubts how far the elder Beaufort would +realise the expectations in which his nephew had been reared. Philip's +younger brother had been much with the old gentleman, and appeared to be +in high favour: this brother was a man in every respect the opposite to +Philip--sober, supple, decorous, ambitious, with a face of smiles and a +heart of ice. + +But the old gentleman was taken dangerously ill, and Philip was summoned +to his bed of death. Robert, the younger brother, was there also, with +his wife (who he had married prudently) and his children (he had two, a +son and a daughter). Not a word did the uncle say as to the disposition +of his property till an hour before he died. And then, turning in his +bed, he looked first at one nephew, then at the other, and faltered out: + +"Philip, you are a scapegrace, but a gentleman! Robert, you are a +careful, sober, plausible man; and it is a great pity you were not in +business; you would have made a fortune!--you won't inherit one, though +you think it: I have marked you, sir. Philip, beware of your brother. +Now let me see the parson." + +The old man died; the will was read; and Philip succeeded to a rental of +L20,000. a-year; Robert, to a diamond ring, a gold repeater, L5,000. and +a curious collection of bottled snakes. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + "Stay, delightful Dream; + + Let him within his pleasant garden walk; + Give him her arm--of blessings let them talk."--CRABBE. + +"There, Robert, there! now you can see the new stables. By Jove, they +are the completest thing in the three kingdoms!" + +"Quite a pile! But is that the house? You lodge your horses more +magnificently than yourself." + +"But is it not a beautiful cottage?--to be sure, it owes everything to +Catherine's taste. Dear Catherine!" + +Mr. Robert Beaufort, for this colloquy took place between the brothers, +as their britska rapidly descended the hill, at the foot of which lay +Fernside Cottage and its miniature demesnes--Mr. Robert Beaufort pulled +his travelling cap over his brows, and his countenance fell, whether at +the name of Catherine, or the tone in which the name was uttered; and +there was a pause, broken by a third occupant of the britska, a youth of +about seventeen, who sat opposite the brothers. + +"And who are those boys on the lawn, uncle?" + +"Who are those boys?" It was a simple question, but it grated on the ear +of Mr. Robert Beaufort--it struck discord at his heart. "Who were those +boys?" as they ran across the sward, eager to welcome their father home; +the westering sun shining full on their joyous faces--their young forms +so lithe and so graceful--their merry laughter ringing in the still air. +"Those boys," thought Mr. Robert Beaufort, "the sons of shame, rob mine +of his inheritance." The elder brother turned round at his nephew's +question, and saw the expression on Robert's face. He bit his lip, and +answered, gravely: + +"Arthur, they are my children." + +"I did not know you were married," replied Arthur, bending forward to +take a better view of his cousins. + +Mr. Robert Beaufort smiled bitterly, and Philip's brow grew crimson. + +The carriage stopped at the little lodge. Philip opened the door, and +jumped to the ground; the brother and his son followed. A moment more, +and Philip was locked in Catherine's arms, her tears falling fast upon +his breast; his children plucking at his coat; and the younger one crying +in his shrill, impatient treble, "Papa! papa! you don't see Sidney, +papa!" + +Mr. Robert Beaufort placed his hand on his son's shoulder, and arrested +his steps, as they contemplated the group before them. + +"Arthur," said he, in a hollow whisper, "those children are our disgrace +and your supplanters; they are bastards! bastards! and they are to be his +heirs!" + +Arthur made no answer, but the smile with which be had hitherto gazed on +his new relations vanished. + +"Kate," said Mr. Beaufort, as he turned from Mrs. Morton, and lifted his +youngest-born in his arms, "this is my brother and his son: they are +welcome, are they not?" + +Mr. Robert bowed low, and extended his hand, with stiff affability, to +Mrs. Morton, muttering something equally complimentary and inaudible. + +The party proceeded towards the house. Philip and Arthur brought up the +rear. + +"Do you shoot?" asked Arthur, observing the gun in his cousin's hand. + +"Yes. I hope this season to bag as many head as my father: he is a +famous shot. But this is only a single barrel, and an old-fashioned sort +of detonator. My father must get me one of the new gulls. I can't +afford it myself." + +"I should think not," said Arthur, smiling. + +"Oh, as to that," resumed Philip, quickly, and with a heightened colour, +"I could have managed it very well if I had not given thirty guineas for +a brace of pointers the other day: they are the best dogs you ever saw." + +"Thirty guineas!" echoed Arthur, looking with native surprise at the +speaker; "why, how old are you?" + +"Just fifteen last birthday. Holla, John! John Green!" cried the young +gentleman in an imperious voice, to one of the gardeners, who was +crossing the lawn, "see that the nets are taken down to the lake +to-morrow, and that my tent is pitched properly, by the lime-trees, by +nine o'clock. I hope you will understand me this time: Heaven knows you +take a deal of telling before you understand anything!" + +"Yes, Mr. Philip," said the man, bowing obsequiously; and then muttered, +as he went off, "Drat the nat'rel! He speaks to a poor man as if he +warn't flesh and blood." + +"Does your father keep hunters?" asked Philip. No." + +"Why?" + +"Perhaps one reason may be, that he is not rich enough." + +"Oh! that's a pity. Never mind, we'll mount you, whenever you like to +pay us a visit." + +Young Arthur drew himself up, and his air, naturally frank and gentle, +became haughty and reserved. Philip gazed on him, and felt offended; he +scarce knew why, but from that moment he conceived a dislike to his +cousin. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + "For a man is helpless and vain, of a condition so exposed to + calamity that a raisin is able to kill him; any trooper out of the + Egyptian army--a fly can do it, when it goes on God's errand."-- + JEREMY TAYLOR _On the Deceitfulness of the Heart_. + +The two brothers sat at their wine after dinner. Robert sipped claret, +the sturdy Philip quaffed his more generous port. Catherine and the boys +might be seen at a little distance, and by the light of a soft August +moon, among the shrubs and boseluets of the lawn. + +Philip Beaufort was about five-and-forty, tall, robust, nay, of great +strength of frame and limb; with a countenance extremely winning, not +only from the comeliness of its features, but its frankness, manliness, +and good nature. His was the bronzed, rich complexion, the inclination +towards embonpoint, the athletic girth of chest, which denote redundant +health, and mirthful temper, and sanguine blood. Robert, who had lived +the life of cities, was a year younger than his brother; nearly as tall, +but pale, meagre, stooping, and with a careworn, anxious, hungry look, +which made the smile that hung upon his lips seem hollow and artificial. +His dress, though plain, was neat and studied; his manner, bland and +plausible; his voice, sweet and low: there was that about him which, if +it did not win liking, tended to excite respect--a certain decorum, a +nameless propriety of appearance and bearing, that approached a little to +formality: his every movement, slow and measured, was that of one who +paced in the circle that fences round the habits and usages of the world. + +"Yes," said Philip, "I had always decided to take this step, whenever my +poor uncle's death should allow me to do so. You have seen Catherine, +but you do not know half her good qualities: she would grace any station; +and, besides, she nursed me so carefully last year, when I broke my +collar-bone in that cursed steeple-chase. Egad, I am getting too heavy +and growing too old for such schoolboy pranks." + +"I have no doubt of Mrs. Morton's excellence, and I honour your motives; +still, when you talk of her gracing any station, you must not forget, my +dear brother, that she will be no more received as Mrs. Beaufort than she +is now as Mrs. Morton." + +"But I tell you, Robert, that I am really married to her already; that +she would never have left her home but on that condition; that we were +married the very day we met after her flight." + +Robert's thin lips broke into a slight sneer of incredulity. "My dear +brother, you do right to say this--any man in your situation would say +the same. But I know that my uncle took every pains to ascertain if the +report of a private marriage were true." + +"And you helped him in the search. Eh, Bob?" + +Bob slightly blushed. Philip went on. + +"Ha, ha! to be sure you did; you knew that such a discovery would have +done for me in the old gentleman's good opinion. But I blinded you both, +ha, ha! The fact is, that we were married with the greatest privacy; +that even now, I own, it would be difficult for Catherine herself to +establish the fact, unless I wished it. I am ashamed to think that I +have never even told her where I keep the main proof of the marriage. +I induced one witness to leave the country, the other must be long since +dead: my poor friend, too, who officiated, is no more. Even the +register, Bob, the register itself, has been destroyed: and yet, +notwithstanding, I will prove the ceremony and clear up poor Catherine's +fame; for I have the attested copy of the register safe and sound. +Catherine not married! why, look at her, man!" + +Mr. Robert Beaufort glanced at the window for a moment, but his +countenance was still that of one unconvinced. "Well, brother," said he, +dipping his fingers in the water-glass, "it is not for me to contradict +you. It is a very curious tale--parson dead--witnesses missing. But +still, as I said before, if you are resolved on a public marriage, you +are wise to insist that there has been a previous private one. Yet, +believe me, Philip," continued Robert, with solemn earnestness, "the +world--" + +"Damn the world! What do I care for the world! We don't want to go to +routs and balls, and give dinners to fine people. I shall live much the +same as I have always done; only, I shall now keep the hounds--they are +very indifferently kept at present--and have a yacht; and engage the best +masters for the boys. Phil wants to go to Eton, but I know what Eton is: +poor fellow! his feelings might be hurt there, if others are as sceptical +as yourself. I suppose my old friends will not be less civil now I have +L20,000. a year. And as for the society of women, between you and me, I +don't care a rush for any woman but Catherine: poor Katty!" + +"Well, you are the best judge of your own affairs: you don't misinterpret +my motives?" + +"My dear Bob, no. I am quite sensible how kind it is in you--a man of +your starch habits and strict views, coming here to pay a mark of respect +to Kate (Mr. Robert turned uneasily in his chair)--even before you knew +of the private marriage, and I'm sure I don't blame you for never having +done it before. You did quite right to try your chance with my uncle." + +Mr. Robert turned in his chair again, still more uneasily, and cleared +his voice as if to speak. But Philip tossed off his wine, and proceeded, +without heeding his brother,-- + +"And though the poor old man does not seem to have liked you the better +for consulting his scruples, yet we must make up for the partiality of +his will. Let me see--what with your wife's fortune, you muster L2000. +a year?" + +"Only L1500., Philip, and Arthur's education is growing expensive. Next +year he goes to college. He is certainly very clever, and I have great +hopes--" + +"That he will do Honour to us all--so have I. He is a noble young +fellow: and I think my Philip may find a great deal to learn from him,-- +Phil is a sad idle dog; but with a devil of a spirit, and sharp as a +needle. I wish you could see him ride. Well, to return to Arthur. +Don't trouble yourself about his education--that shall be my care. He +shall go to Christ Church--a gentleman-commoner, of course--and when he +is of age we'll get him into parliament. Now for yourself, Bob. I shall +sell the town-house in Berkeley Square, and whatever it brings you shall +have. Besides that, I'll add L1500. a year to your L1000.--so that's +said and done. Pshaw! brothers should be brothers.--Let's come out and +play with the boys!" + +The two Beauforts stepped through the open casement into the lawn. + +"You look pale, Bob--all you London fellows do. As for me, I feel as +strong as a horse: much better than when I was one of your gay dogs +straying loose about the town'. 'Gad, I have never had a moment's ill +health, except from a fall now and then. I feel as if I should live for +ever, and that's the reason why I could never make a will." + +"Have you never, then, made your will?" + +"Never as yet. Faith, till now, I had little enough to leave. But now +that all this great Beaufort property is at my own disposal, I must think +of Kate's jointure. By Jove! now I speak of it, I will ride to ---- +to-morrow, and consult the lawyer there both about the will and the +marriage. You will stay for the wedding?" + +"Why, I must go into --shire to-morrow evening, to place Arthur with his +tutor. But I'll return for the wedding, if you particularly wish it: +only Mrs. Beaufort is a woman of very strict--" + +"I--do particularly wish it," interrupted Philip, gravely; "for I desire, +for Catherine's sake, that you, my sole surviving relation, may not seem +to withhold your countenance from an act of justice to her. And as for +your wife, I fancy L1500. a year would reconcile her to my marrying out +of the Penitentiary." + +Mr. Robert bowed his head, coughed huskily, and said, "I appreciate your +generous affection, Philip." + +The next morning, while the elder parties were still over the breakfast- +table, the younger people were in the grounds it was a lovely day, one of +the last of the luxuriant August--and Arthur, as he looked round, thought +he had never seen a more beautiful place. It was, indeed, just the spot +to captivate a youthful and susceptible fancy. The village of Fernside, +though in one of the counties adjoining Middlesex, and as near to London +as the owner's passionate pursuits of the field would permit, was yet as +rural and sequestered as if a hundred miles distant from the smoke of the +huge city. Though the dwelling was called a cottage, Philip had enlarged +the original modest building into a villa of some pretensions. On either +side a graceful and well-proportioned portico stretched verandahs, +covered with roses and clematis; to the right extended a range of costly +conservatories, terminating in vistas of trellis-work which formed those +elegant alleys called rosaries, and served to screen the more useful +gardens from view. The lawn, smooth and even, was studded with American +plants and shrubs in flower, and bounded on one side by a small lake, on +the opposite bank of which limes and cedars threw their shadows over the +clear waves. On the other side a light fence separated the grounds from +a large paddock, in which three or four hunters grazed in indolent +enjoyment. It was one of those cottages which bespeak the ease and +luxury not often found in more ostentatious mansions--an abode which, at +sixteen, the visitor contemplates with vague notions of poetry and love-- +which, at forty, he might think dull and d---d expensive-which, at sixty, +he would pronounce to be damp in winter, and full of earwigs in the +summer. Master Philip was leaning on his gun; Master Sidney was chasing +a peacock butterfly; Arthur was silently gazing on the shining lake and +the still foliage that drooped over its surface. In the countenance of +this young man there was something that excited a certain interest. He +was less handsome than Philip, but the expression of his face was more +prepossessing. There was something of pride in the forehead; but of good +nature, not unmixed with irresolution and weakness, in the curves of the +mouth. He was more delicate of frame than Philip; and the colour of his +complexion was not that of a robust constitution. His movements were +graceful and self-possessed, and he had his father's sweetness of voice. +"This is really beautiful!--I envy you, cousin Philip." + +"Has not your father got a country-house?" + +"No: we live either in London or at some hot, crowded watering-place." + +"Yes; this is very nice during the shooting and hunting season. But my +old nurse says we shall have a much finer place now. I liked this very +well till I saw Lord Belville's place. But it is very unpleasant not to +have the finest house in the county: _aut Caesar aut nullus_--that's my +motto. Ah! do you see that swallow? I'll bet you a guinea I hit it." +"No, poor thing! don't hurt it." But ere the remonstrance was uttered, +the bird lay quivering on the ground. "It is just September, and one +must keep one's hand in," said Philip, as he reloaded his gun. + +To Arthur this action seemed a wanton cruelty; it was rather the wanton +recklessness which belongs to a wild boy accustomed to gratify the +impulse of the moment--the recklessness which is not cruelty in the boy, +but which prosperity may pamper into cruelty in the man. And scarce had +he reloaded his gun before the neigh of a young colt came from the +neighbouring paddock, and Philip bounded to the fence. "He calls me, +poor fellow; you shall see him feed from my hand. Run in for a piece of +bread--a large piece, Sidney." The boy and the animal seemed to +understand each other. "I see you don't like horses," he said to Arthur. +As for me, I love dogs, horses--every dumb creature." + +"Except swallows." said Arthur, with a half smile, and a little +surprised at the inconsistency of the boast. + +"Oh! that is short,--all fair: it is not to hurt the swallow--it is to +obtain skill," said Philip, colouring; and then, as if not quite easy +with his own definition, he turned away abruptly. + +"This is dull work--suppose we fish. By Jove!" (he had caught his +father's expletive) "that blockhead has put the tent on the wrong side of +the lake, after all. Holla, you, sir!" and the unhappy gardener looked +up from his flower-beds; "what ails you? I have a great mind to tell my +father of you--you grow stupider every day. I told you to put the tent +under the lime-trees." + +"We could not manage it, sir; the boughs were in the way." + +"And why did you not cut the boughs, blockhead?" + +"I did not dare do so, sir, without master's orders," said the man +doggedly. + +"My orders are sufficient, I should think; so none of your impertinence," +cried Philip, with a raised colour; and lifting his hand, in which he +held his ramrod, he shook it menacingly over the gardener's head,--"I've +a great mind to----" + +"What's the matter, Philip?" cried the good-humoured voice of his +father. "Fie!" + +"This fellow does not mind what I say, sir." + +"I did not like to cut the boughs of the lime-trees without your orders, +sir," said the gardener. + +"No, it would be a pity to cut them. You should consult me there, Master +Philip;" and the father shook him by the collar with a good-natured, and +affectionate, but rough sort of caress. + +"Be quiet, father!" said the boy, petulantly and proudly; "or," he +added, in a lower voice, but one which showed emotion, "my cousin may +think you mean less kindly than you always do, sir." + +The father was touched: "Go and cut the lime-boughs, John; and always do +as Mr. Philip tells you." + +The mother was behind, and she sighed audibly. "Ah! dearest, I fear you +will spoil him." + +"Is he not your son? and do we not owe him the more respect for having +hitherto allowed others to--" + +He stopped, and the mother could say no more. And thus it was, that this +boy of powerful character and strong passions had, from motives the most +amiable, been pampered from the darling into the despot. + +"And now, Kate, I will, as I told you last night, ride over to ---- and +fix the earliest day for our public marriage: I will ask the lawyer to +dine here, to talk about the proper steps for proving the private one." + +"Will that be difficult" asked Catherine, with natural anxiety. + +"No,--for if you remember, I had the precaution to get an examined copy +of the register; otherwise, I own to you, I should have been alarmed. I +don't know what has be come of Smith. I heard some time since from his +father that he had left the colony; and (I never told you before--it +would have made you uneasy) once, a few years ago, when my uncle again +got it into his head that we might be married, I was afraid poor Caleb's +successor might, by chance, betray us. So I went over to A---- myself, +being near it when I was staying with Lord C----, in order to see how far +it might be necessary to secure the parson; and, only think! I found an +accident had happened to the register--so, as the clergyman could know +nothing, I kept my own counsel. How lucky I have the copy! No doubt the +lawyer will set all to rights; and, while I am making the settlements, I +may as well make my will. I have plenty for both boys, but the dark one +must be the heir. Does he not look born to be an eldest son?" + +"Ah, Philip!" + +"Pshaw! one don't die the sooner for making a will. Have I the air of a +man in a consumption?"--and the sturdy sportsman glanced complacently at +the strength and symmetry of his manly limbs. "Come, Phil, let's go to +the stables. Now, Robert, I will show you what is better worth seeing +than those miserable flower-beds." So saying, Mr. Beaufort led the way +to the courtyard at the back of the cottage. Catherine and Sidney +remained on the lawn; the rest followed the host. The grooms, of whom +Beaufort was the idol, hastened to show how well the horses had thriven +in his absence. + +"Do see how Brown Bess has come on, sir! but, to be sure, Master Philip +keeps her in exercise. Ah, sir, he will be as good a rider as your +honour, one of these days." + +"He ought to be a better, Tom; for I think he'll never have my weight to +carry. Well, saddle Brown Bess for Mr. Philip. What horse shall I take? +Ah! here's my old friend, Puppet!" + +"I don't know what's come to Puppet, sir; he's off his feed, and turned +sulky. I tried him over the bar yesterday; but he was quite restive +like." + +"The devil he was! So, so, old boy, you shall go over the six-barred +gate to-day, or we'll know why." And Mr. Beaufort patted the sleek neck +of his favourite hunter. "Put the saddle on him, Tom." + +"Yes, your honour. I sometimes think he is hurt in the loins somehow--he +don't take to his leaps kindly, and he always tries to bite when we +bridles him. Be quiet, sir!" + +"Only his airs," said Philip. I did not know this, or I would have taken +him over the gate. Why did not you tell me, Tom?" + +"Lord love you, sir! because you have such a spurret; and if anything +had come to you--" + +"Quite right: you are not weight enough for Puppet, my boy; and he never +did like any one to back him but myself. What say you, brother, will you +ride with us?" + +"No, I must go to ---- to-day with Arthur. I have engaged the post- +horses at two o'clock; but I shall be with you to-morrow or the day +after. You see his tutor expects him; and as he is backward in his +mathematics, he has no time to lose." + +"Well, then, good-bye, nephew!" and Beaufort slipped a pocket-book into +the boy's hand. "Tush! whenever you want money, don't trouble your +father--write to me--we shall be always glad to see you; and you must +teach Philip to like his book a little better--eh, Phil?" + +"No, father; I shall be rich enough to do without books," said Philip, +rather coarsely; but then observing the heightened colour of his cousin, +he went up to him, and with a generous impulse said, "Arthur, you admired +this gun; pray accept it. Nay, don't be shy--I can have as many as I +like for the asking: you're not so well off, you know." + +The intention was kind, but the manner was so patronising that Arthur +felt offended. He put back the gun, and said, drily, "I shall have no +occasion for the gun, thank you." + +If Arthur was offended by the offer, Philip was much more offended by the +refusal. "As you like; I hate pride," said he; and he gave the gun to +the groom as he vaulted into his saddle with the lightness of a young +Mercury. "Come, father!" + +Mr. Beaufort had now mounted his favourite hunter--a large, powerful +horse well known for its prowess in the field. The rider trotted him +once or twice through the spacious yard. + +"Nonsense, Tom: no more hurt in the loins than I am. Open that gate; we +will go across the paddock, and take the gate yonder--the old six-bar-- +eh, Phil?" + +"Capital!--to be sure!--" + +The gate was opened--the grooms stood watchful to see the leap, and a +kindred curiosity arrested Robert Beaufort and his son. + +How well they looked! those two horsemen; the ease, lightness, spirit of +the one, with the fine-limbed and fiery steed that literally "bounded +beneath him as a barb"--seemingly as gay, as ardent, and as haughty as +the boyrider. And the manly, and almost herculean form of the elder +Beaufort, which, from the buoyancy of its movements, and the supple grace +that belongs to the perfect mastership of any athletic art, possessed an +elegance and dignity, especially on horseback, which rarely accompanies +proportions equally sturdy and robust. There was indeed something +knightly and chivalrous in the bearing of the elder Beaufort--in his +handsome aquiline features, the erectness of his mien, the very wave of +his hand, as he spurred from the yard. + +"What a fine-looking fellow my uncle is!" said Arthur, with involuntary +admiration. + +"Ay, an excellent life--amazingly strong!" returned the pale father, +with a slight sigh. + +"Philip," said Mr. Beaufort, as they cantered across the paddock, "I +think the gate is too much for you. I will just take Puppet over, and +then we will open it for you." + +"Pooh, my dear father! you don't know how I'm improved!" And slackening +the rein, and touching the side of his horse, the young rider darted +forward and cleared the gate, which was of no common height, with an ease +that extorted a loud "bravo" from the proud father. + +"Now, Puppet," said Mr. Beaufort, spurring his own horse. The animal +cantered towards the gate, and then suddenly turned round with an +impatient and angry snort. "For shame, Puppet!--for shame, old boy!" +said the sportsman, wheeling him again to the barrier. The horse shook +his head, as if in remonstrance; but the spur vigorously applied showed +him that his master would not listen to his mute reasonings. He bounded +forward--made at the gate--struck his hoofs against the top bar--fell +forward, and threw his rider head foremost on the road beyond. The horse +rose instantly--not so the master. The son dismounted, alarmed and +terrified. His father was speechless! and blood gushed from the mouth +and nostrils, as the head drooped heavily on the boy's breast. The +bystanders had witnessed the fall--they crowded to the spot--they took +the fallen man from the weak arms of the son--the head groom examined him +with the eye of one who had picked up science from his experience in such +casualties. + +"Speak, brother!--where are you hurt?" exclaimed Robert Beaufort. + +"He will never speak more!" said the groom, bursting into tears. "His +neck is broken!" + +"Send for the nearest surgeon," cried Mr. Robert. "Good God! boy! +don't mount that devilish horse!" + +But Arthur had already leaped on the unhappy steed, which had been the +cause of this appalling affliction. "Which way?" + +"Straight on to ----, only two miles--every one knows Mr. Powis's house. +God bless you!" said the groom. Arthur vanished. + +"Lift him carefully, and take him to the house," said Mr. Robert. "My +poor brother! my dear brother!" + +He was interrupted by a cry, a single shrill, heartbreaking cry; and +Philip fell senseless to the ground. + +No one heeded him at that hour--no one heeded the fatherless BASTARD. +"Gently, gently," said Mr. Robert, as he followed the servants and their +load. And he then muttered to himself, and his sallow cheek grew bright, +and his breath came short: "He has made no will--he never made a will." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + "Constance. O boy, then where art thou? + * * * * What becomes of me"--_King John_. + +It was three days after the death of Philip Beaufort--for the surgeon +arrived only to confirm the judgment of the groom: in the drawing-room of +the cottage, the windows closed, lay the body, in its coffin, the lid not +yet nailed down. There, prostrate on the floor, tearless, speechless, +was the miserable Catherine; poor Sidney, too young to comprehend all his +loss, sobbing at her side; while Philip apart, seated beside the coffin, +gazed abstractedly on that cold rigid face which had never known one +frown for his boyish follies. + +In another room, that had been appropriated to the late owner, called his +study, sat Robert Beaufort. Everything in this room spoke of the +deceased. Partially separated from the rest of the house, it +communicated by a winding staircase with a chamber above, to which Philip +had been wont to betake himself whenever he returned late, and over- +exhilarated, from some rural feast crowning a hard day's hunt. Above a +quaint, old-fashioned bureau of Dutch workmanship (which Philip had +picked up at a sale in the earlier years of his marriage) was a portrait +of Catherine taken in the bloom of her youth. On a peg on the door that +led to the staircase, still hung his rough driving coat. The window +commanded the view of the paddock in which the worn-out hunter or the +unbroken colt grazed at will. Around the walls of the "study"-- +(a strange misnomer!)--hung prints of celebrated fox-hunts and renowned +steeple-chases: guns, fishing-rods, and foxes' brushes, ranged with a +sportsman's neatness, supplied the place of books. On the mantelpiece +lay a cigar-case, a well-worn volume on the Veterinary Art, and the last +number of the Sporting Magazine. And in the room--thus witnessing of the +hardy, masculine, rural life, that had passed away--sallow, stooping, +town-worn, sat, I say, Robert Beaufort, the heir-at-law,--alone: for the +very day of the death he had remanded his son home with the letter that +announced to his wife the change in their fortunes, and directed her to +send his lawyer post-haste to the house of death. The bureau, and the +drawers, and the boxes which contained the papers of the deceased were +open; their contents had been ransacked; no certificate of the private +marriage, no hint of such an event; not a paper found to signify the last +wishes of the rich dead man. + +He had died, and made no sign. Mr. Robert Beaufort's countenance was +still and composed. + +A knock at the door was heard; the lawyer entered. + +"Sir, the undertakers are here, and Mr. Greaves has ordered the bells to +be rung: at three o'clock he will read the service." + +"I am obliged to you., Blackwell, for taking these melancholy offices on +yourself. My poor brother!--it is so sudden! But the funeral, you say, +ought to take place to-day?" + +"The weather is so warm," said the lawyer, wiping his forehead. As he +spoke, the death-bell was heard. + +There was a pause. + +"It would have been a terrible shock to Mrs. Morton if she had been his +wife," observed Mr. Blackwell. "But I suppose persons of that kind have +very little feeling. I must say that it was fortunate for the family +that the event happened before Mr. Beaufort was wheedled into so improper +a marriage." + +"It was fortunate, Blackwell. Have you ordered the post-horses? I shall +start immediately after the funeral." + +"What is to be done with the cottage, sir?" + +"You may advertise it for sale." + +"And Mrs. Morton and the boys?" "Hum! we will consider. She was a +tradesman's daughter. I think I ought to provide for her suitably, eh?" + +"It is more than the world could expect from you, sir; it is very +different from a wife." + +"Oh, very!--very much so, indeed! Just ring for a lighted candle, we +will seal up these boxes. And--I think I could take a sandwich. Poor +Philip!" + +The funeral was over; the dead shovelled away. What a strange thing it +does seem, that that very form which we prized so charily, for which we +prayed the winds to be gentle, which we lapped from the cold in our arms, +from whose footstep we would have removed a stone, should be suddenly +thrust out of sight--an abomination that the earth must not look upon--a +despicable loathsomeness, to be concealed and to be forgotten! And this +same composition of bone and muscle that was yesterday so strong--which +men respected, and women loved, and children clung to--to-day so +lamentably powerless, unable to defend or protect those who lay nearest +to its heart; its riches wrested from it, its wishes spat upon, its +influence expiring with its last sigh! A breath from its lips making all +that mighty difference between what it was and what it is! + +The post-horses were at the door as the funeral procession returned to +the house. + +Mr. Robert Beaufort bowed slightly to Mrs. Morton, and said, with his +pocket-handkerchief still before his eyes: + +"I will write to you in a few days, ma'am; you will find that I shall not +forget you. The cottage will be sold; but we sha'n't hurry you. Good- +bye, ma'am; good-bye, my boys;" and he patted his nephews on the head. + +Philip winced aside, and scowled haughtily at his uncle, who muttered to +himself, "That boy will come to no good!" Little Sidney put his hand +into the rich man's, and looked up, pleadingly, into his face. "Can't +you say something pleasant to poor mamma, Uncle Robert?" + +Mr. Beaufort hemmed huskily, and entered the britska--it had been his +brother's: the lawyer followed, and they drove away. + +A week after the funeral, Philip stole from the house into the +conservatory, to gather some fruit for his mother; she had scarcely +touched food since Beaufort's death. She was worn to a shadow; her hair +had turned grey. Now she had at last found tears, and she wept +noiselessly but unceasingly. + +The boy had plucked some grapes, and placed them carefully in his basket: +he was about to select a nectarine that seemed riper than the rest, when +his hand was roughly seized; and the gruff voice of John Green, the +gardener, exclaimed: + +"What are you about, Master Philip? you must not touch them 'ere fruit!" + +"How dare you, fellow!" cried the young gentleman, in a tone of equal +astonishment and, wrath. + +"None of your airs, Master Philip! What I means is, that some great +folks are coming too look at the place tomorrow; and I won't have my show +of fruit spoiled by being pawed about by the like of you; so, that's +plain, Master Philip!" + +The boy grew very pale, but remained silent. The gardener, delighted to +retaliate the insolence he had received, continued: + +"You need not go for to look so spiteful, master; you are not the great +man you thought you were; you are nobody now, and so you will find ere +long. So, march out, if you please: I wants to lock up the glass." + +As he spoke, he took the lad roughly by the arm; but Philip, the most +irascible of mortals, was strong for his years, and fearless as a young +lion. He caught up a watering-pot, which the gardener had deposited +while he expostulated with his late tyrant and struck the man across the +face with it so violently and so suddenly, that he fell back over the +beds, and the glass crackled and shivered under him. Philip did not wait +for the foe to recover his equilibrium; but, taking up his grapes, and +possessing himself quietly of the disputed nectarine, quitted the spot; +and the gardener did not think it prudent to pursue him. To boys, under +ordinary circumstances--boys who have buffeted their way through a +scolding nursery, a wrangling family, or a public school--there would +have been nothing in this squabble to dwell on the memory or vibrate on +the nerves, after the first burst of passion: but to Philip Beaufort it +was an era in life; it was the first insult he had ever received; it was +his initiation into that changed, rough, and terrible career, to which +the spoiled darling of vanity and love was henceforth condemned. His +pride and his self-esteem had incurred a fearful shock. He entered the +house, and a sickness came over him; his limbs trembled; he sat down in +the hall, and, placing the fruit beside him, covered his face with his +hands and wept. Those were not the tears of a boy, drawn from a shallow +source; they were the burning, agonising, reluctant tears, that men shed, +wrung from the heart as if it were its blood. He had never been sent to +school, lest he should meet with mortification. He had had various +tutors, trained to show, rather than to exact, respect; one succeeding +another, at his own whim and caprice. His natural quickness, and a very +strong, hard, inquisitive turn of mind, had enabled him, however, to pick +up more knowledge, though of a desultory and miscellaneous nature, than +boys of his age generally possess; and his roving, independent, out-of- +door existence had served to ripen his understanding. He had certainly, +in spite of every precaution, arrived at some, though not very distinct, +notion of his peculiar position; but none of its inconveniences had +visited him till that day. He began now to turn his eyes to the future; +and vague and dark forebodings--a consciousness of the shelter, the +protector, the station, he had lost in his father's death--crept coldly, +over him. While thus musing, a ring was heard at the bell; he lifted his +head; it was the postman with a letter. Philip hastily rose, and, +averting his face, on which the tears were not dried, took the letter; +and then, snatching up his little basket of fruit, repaired to his +mother's room. + +The shutters were half closed on the bright day--oh, what a mockery is +there in the smile of the happy sun when it shines on the wretched! Mrs. +Morton sat, or rather crouched, in a distant corner; her streaming eyes +fixed on vacancy; listless, drooping; a very image of desolate woe; and +Sidney was weaving flower-chains at her feet. + +"Mamma!--mother!" whispered Philip, as he threw his arms round her neck; +"look up! look up!-my heart breaks to see you. Do taste this fruit: you +will die too, if you go on thus; and what will become of us--of Sidney?" + +Mrs. Morton did look up vaguely into his face, and strove to smile. + +"See, too, I have brought you a letter; perhaps good news; shall I break +the seal?" + +Mrs. Morton shook her head gently, and took the letter--alas! how +different from that one which Sidney had placed in her hands not two +short weeks since--it was Mr. Robert Beaufort's handwriting. She +shuddered, and laid it down. And then there suddenly, and for the first +time, flashed across her the sense of her strange position--the dread of +the future. What were her sons to be henceforth? + +What herself? Whatever the sanctity of her marriage, the law might fail +her. At the disposition of Mr. Robert Beaufort the fate of three lives +might depend. She gasped for breath; again took up the letter; and +hurried over the contents: they ran thus: + +"DEAR, MADAM,--Knowing that you must naturally be anxious as to the +future prospects of your children and yourself, left by my poor brother +destitute of all provision, I take the earliest opportunity which it +seems to me that propriety and decorum allow, to apprise you of my +intentions. I need not say that, properly speaking, you can have no kind +of claim upon the relations of my late brother; nor will I hurt your +feelings by those moral reflections which at this season of sorrow +cannot, I hope, fail involuntarily to force themselves upon you. Without +more than this mere allusion to your peculiar connection with my brother, +I may, however, be permitted to add that that connection tended very +materially to separate him from the legitimate branches of his family; +and in consulting with them as to a provision for you and your children, +I find that, besides scruples that are to be respected, some natural +degree of soreness exists upon their minds. Out of regard, however, to +my poor brother (though I saw very little of him of late years), I am +willing to waive those feelings which, as a father and a husband, you may +conceive that I share with the rest of my family. You will probably now +decide on living with some of your own relations; and that you may not be +entirely a burden to them, I beg to say that I shall allow you a hundred +a year; paid, if you prefer it, quarterly. You may also select such +articles of linen and plate as you require for your own use. With regard +to your sons, I have no objection to place them at a grammar-school, and, +at a proper age, to apprentice them to any trade suitable to their future +station, in the choice of which your own family can give you the best +advice. If they conduct themselves properly, they may always depend on +my protection. I do not wish to hurry your movements; but it will +probably be painful to you to remain longer than you can help in a place +crowded with unpleasant recollections; and as the cottage is to be sold-- +indeed, my brother-in-law, Lord Lilburne, thinks it would suit him--you +will be liable to the interruption of strangers to see it; and your +prolonged residence at Fernside, you must be sensible, is rather an +obstacle to the sale. I beg to inclose you a draft for L100. to pay any +present expenses; and to request, when you are settled, to know where the +first quarter shall be paid. + +"I shall write to Mr. Jackson (who, I think, is the bailiff) to detail my +instructions as to selling the crops, &c., and discharging the servants; +so that you may have no further trouble. + "I am, Madam, + "Your obedient Servant, + "ROBERT BEAUFORT. +"Berkeley Square, September 12th, 18--." + +The letter fell from Catherine's hands. Her grief was changed to +indignation and scorn. + +"The insolent!" she exclaimed, with flashing eyes. "This to me!--to me-- +the wife, the lawful wife of his brother! the wedded mother of his +brother's children!" + +"Say that again, mother! again--again!" cried Philip, in a loud voice. +"His wife--wedded!" + +"I swear it," said Catherine, solemnly. "I kept the secret for your +father's sake. Now for yours, the truth must be proclaimed." + +"Thank God! thank God!" murmured Philip, in a quivering voice, throwing +his arms round his brother, "We have no brand on our names, Sidney." + +At those accents, so full of suppressed joy and pride, the mother felt at +once all that her son had suspected and concealed. She felt that beneath +his haughty and wayward character there had lurked delicate and generous +forbearance for her; that from his equivocal position his very faults +might have arisen; and a pang of remorse for her long sacrifice of the +children to the father shot through her heart. It was followed by a +fear, an appalling fear, more painful than the remorse. The proofs that +were to clear herself and them! The words of her husband, that last +awful morning, rang in her ear. The minister dead; the witness absent; +the register lost! But the copy of that register!--the copy! might not +that suffice? She groaned, and closed her eyes as if to shut out the +future: then starting up, she hurried from the room, and went straight to +Beaufort's study. As she laid her hand on the latch of the door, she +trembled and drew back. But care for the living was stronger at that +moment than even anguish for the dead: she entered the apartment; she +passed with a firm step to the bureau. It was locked; Robert Beaufort's +seal upon the lock:--on every cupboard, every box, every drawer, the same +seal that spoke of rights more valued than her own. But Catherine was +not daunted: she turned and saw Philip by her side; she pointed to the +bureau in silence; the boy understood the appeal. He left the room, and +returned in a few moments with a chisel. The lock was broken: +tremblingly and eagerly Catherine ransacked the contents; opened paper +after paper, letter after letter, in vain: no certificate, no will, no +memorial. Could the brother have abstracted the fatal proof? A word +sufficed to explain to Philip what she sought for; and his search was +more minute than hers. Every possible receptacle for papers in that +room, in the whole house, was explored, and still the search was +fruitless. + +Three hours afterwards they were in the same room in which Philip had +brought Robert Beaufort's letter to his mother. Catherine was seated, +tearless, but deadly pale with heart-sickness and dismay. + +"Mother," said Philip, "may I now read the letter?" Yes, boy; and decide +for us all. She paused, and examined his face as he read. He felt her +eye was upon him, and restrained his emotions as he proceeded. When he +had done, he lifted his dark gaze upon Catherine's watchful countenance. + +"Mother, whether or not we obtain our rights, you will still refuse this +man's charity? I am young--a boy; but I am strong and active. I will +work for you day and night. I have it in me--I feel it; anything rather +than eating his bread." + +"Philip! Philip! you are indeed my son; your father's son! And have +you no reproach for your mother, who so weakly, so criminally, concealed +your birthright, till, alas! discovery may be too late? Oh! reproach me, +reproach me! it will be kindness. No! do not kiss me! I cannot bear it. +Boy! boy! if as my heart tells me, we fail in proof, do you understand +what, in the world's eye, I am; what you are?" + +"I do!" said Philip, firmly; and lie fell on his knees at her feet." +Whatever others call you, you are a mother, and I your son. You are, in +the judgment of Heaven, my father's Wife, and I his Heir." + +Catherine bowed her head, and with a gush of tears fell into his arms. +Sidney crept up to her, and forced his lips to her cold cheek. "Mamma! +what vexes you? Mamma, mamma!" + +"Oh, Sidney! Sidney! How like his father! Look at him, Philip! Shall +we do right to refuse him even this pittance? Must he be a beggar too?" + +"Never beggar," said Philip, with a pride that showed what hard lessons +he had yet to learn. "The lawful sons of a Beaufort were not born to beg +their bread!" + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + "The storm above, and frozen world below. + * * * * * + The olive bough + Faded and cast upon the common wind, + And earth a doveless ark."--LAMAN BLANCHARD. + +Mr. Robert Beaufort was generally considered by the world a very worthy +man. He had never committed any excess--never gambled nor incurred debt +--nor fallen into the warm errors most common with his sex. He was a +good husband--a careful father--an agreeable neighbour--rather charitable +than otherwise, to the poor. He was honest and methodical in his +dealings, and had been known to behave handsomely in different relations +of life. Mr. Robert Beaufort, indeed, always meant to do what was right +--in the eyes of the world! He had no other rule of action but that +which the world supplied; his religion was decorum--his sense of honour +was regard to opinion. His heart was a dial to which the world was the +sun: when the great eye of the public fell on it, it answered every +purpose that a heart could answer; but when that eye was invisible, the +dial was mute--a piece of brass and nothing more. + +It is just to Robert Beaufort to assure the reader that he wholly +disbelieved his brother's story of a private marriage. He considered +that tale, when heard for the first time, as the mere invention (and a +shallow one) of a man wishing to make the imprudent step he was about to +take as respectable as he could. The careless tone of his brother when +speaking upon the subject--his confession that of such a marriage there +were no distinct proofs, except a copy of a register (which copy Robert +had not found)--made his incredulity natural. He therefore deemed +himself under no obligation of delicacy or respect, to a woman through +whose means he had very nearly lost a noble succession--a woman who had +not even borne his brother's name--a woman whom nobody knew. Had Mrs. +Morton been Mrs. Beaufort, and the natural sons legitimate children, +Robert Beaufort, supposing their situation of relative power and +dependence to have been the same, would have behaved with careful and +scrupulous generosity. The world would have said, "Nothing can be +handsomer than Mr. Robert Beaufort's conduct!" Nay, if Mrs. Morton had +been some divorced wife of birth and connections, he would have made very +different dispositions in her favour: he would not have allowed the +connections to call him shabby. But here he felt that, all circumstances +considered, the world, if it spoke at all (which it would scarce think it +worth while to do), would be on his side. An artful woman--low-born, +and, of course, low-bred--who wanted to inveigle her rich and careless +paramour into marriage; what could be expected from the man she had +sought to injure--the rightful heir? Was it not very good in him to do +anything for her, and, if he provided for the children suitably to the +original station of the mother, did he not go to the very utmost of +reasonable expectation? He certainly thought in his conscience, such as +it was, that he had acted well--not extravagantly, not foolishly; but +well. He was sure the world would say so if it knew all: he was not +bound to do anything. He was not, therefore, prepared for Catherine's +short, haughty, but temperate reply to his letter: a reply which conveyed +a decided refusal of his offers--asserted positively her own marriage, +and the claims of her children--intimated legal proceedings--and was +signed in the name of Catherine Beaufort. Mr. Beaufort put the letter in +his bureau, labelled, "Impertinent answer from Mrs. Morton, Sept. 14," +and was quite contented to forget the existence of the writer, until his +lawyer, Mr. Blackwell, informed him that a suit had been instituted by +Catherine. + +Mr. Robert turned pale, but Blackwell composed him. + +"Pooh, sir! you have nothing to fear. It is but an attempt to extort +money: the attorney is a low practitioner, accustomed to get up bad +cases: they can make nothing of it." + +This was true: whatever the rights of the case, poor Catherine had no +proofs--no evidence--which could justify a respectable lawyer to advise +her proceeding to a suit. She named two witnesses of her marriage--one +dead, the other could not be heard of. She selected for the alleged +place in which the ceremony was performed a very remote village, in which +it appeared that the register had been destroyed. No attested copy +thereof was to be found, and Catherine was stunned on hearing that, even +if found, it was doubtful whether it could be received as evidence, +unless to corroborate actual personal testimony. It so happened that +when Philip, many years ago, had received a copy, he had not shown it to +Catherine, nor mentioned Mr. Jones's name as the copyist. In fact, then +only three years married to Catherine, his worldly caution had not yet +been conquered by confident experience of her generosity. As for the +mere moral evidence dependent on the publication of her bans in London, +that amounted to no proof whatever; nor, on inquiry at A----, did the +Welsh villagers remember anything further than that, some fifteen years +ago, a handsome gentleman had visited Mr. Price, and one or two rather +thought that Mr. Price had married him to a lady from London; evidence +quite inadmissible against the deadly, damning fact, that, for fifteen +years, Catherine had openly borne another name, and lived with Mr. +Beaufort ostensibly as his mistress. Her generosity in this destroyed +her case. Nevertheless, she found a low practitioner, who took her money +and neglected her cause; so her suit was heard and dismissed with +contempt. Henceforth, then, indeed, in the eyes of the law and the +public, Catherine was an impudent adventurer, and her sons were nameless +outcasts. + +And now relieved from all fear, Mr. Robert Beaufort entered upon the full +enjoyment of his splendid fortune. + +The house in Berkeley Square was furnished anew. Great dinners and gay +routs were given in the ensuing spring. Mr. and Mrs. Beaufort became +persons of considerable importance. The rich man had, even when poor, +been ambitious; his ambition now centred in his only son. Arthur had +always been considered a boy of talents and promise; to what might he not +now aspire? The term of his probation with the tutor was abridged, and +Arthur Beaufort was sent at once to Oxford. + +Before he went to the university, during a short preparatory visit to his +father, Arthur spoke to him of the Mortons. "What has become of them, +sir? and what have you done for them?" + +"Done for them!" said Mr. Beaufort, opening his eyes. "What should I do +for persons who have just been harassing me with the most unprincipled +litigation? My conduct to them has been too generous: that is, all +things considered. But when you are my age you will find there is very +little gratitude in the world, Arthur." + +"Still, sir," said Arthur, with the good nature that belonged to him: +"still, my uncle was greatly attached to them; and the boys, at least, +are guiltless." + +"Well, well!" replied Mr. Beaufort, a little impatiently; "I believe +they want for nothing: I fancy they are with the mother's relations. +Whenever they address me in a proper manner they shall not find me +revengeful or hardhearted; but, since we are on this topic," continued +the father smoothing his shirt-frill with a care that showed his decorum +even in trifles, "I hope you see the results of that kind of connection, +and that you will take warning by your poor uncle's example. And now let +us change the subject; it is not a very pleasant one, and, at your age, +the less your thoughts turn on such matters the better." + +Arthur Beaufort, with the careless generosity of youth, that gauges other +men's conduct by its own sentiments, believed that his father, who had +never been niggardly to himself, had really acted as his words implied; +and, engrossed by the pursuits of the new and brilliant career opened, +whether to his pleasures or his studies, suffered the objects of his +inquiries to pass from his thoughts. + +Meanwhile, Mrs. Morton, for by that name we must still call her, and her +children, were settled in a small lodging in a humble suburb; situated on +the high road between Fernside and the metropolis. She saved from her +hopeless law-suit, after the sale of her jewels and ornaments, a +sufficient sum to enable her, with economy, to live respectably for a +year or two at least, during which time she might arrange her plans for +the future. She reckoned, as a sure resource, upon the assistance of her +relations; but it was one to which she applied with natural shame and +reluctance. She had kept up a correspondence with her father during his +life. To him, she never revealed the secret of her marriage, though she +did not write like a person conscious of error. Perhaps, as she always +said to her son, she had made to her husband a solemn promise never to +divulge or even hint that secret until he himself should authorise its +disclosure. For neither he nor Catherine ever contemplated separation or +death. Alas! how all of us, when happy, sleep secure in the dark +shadows, which ought to warn us of the sorrows that are to come! Still +Catherine's father, a man of coarse mind and not rigid principles, did +not take much to heart that connection which he assumed to be illicit. +She was provided for, that was some comfort: doubtless Mr. Beaufort would +act like a gentleman, perhaps at last make her an honest woman and a +lady. Meanwhile, she had a fine house, and a fine carriage, and fine +servants; and so far from applying to him for money, was constantly +sending him little presents. But Catherine only saw, in his permission +of her correspondence, kind, forgiving, and trustful affection, and she +loved him tenderly: when he died, the link that bound her to her family +was broken. Her brother succeeded to the trade; a man of probity and +honour, but somewhat hard and unamiable. In the only letter she had +received from him--the one announcing her father's death--he told her +plainly, and very properly, that he could not countenance the life she +led; that he had children growing up--that all intercourse between them +was at an end, unless she left Mr. Beaufort; when, if she sincerely +repented, he would still prove her affectionate brother. + +Though Catherine had at the time resented this letter as unfeeling--now, +humbled and sorrow-stricken, she recognised the propriety of principle +from which it emanated. Her brother was well off for his station--she +would explain to him her real situation--he would believe her story. She +would write to him, and beg him at least to give aid to her poor +children. + +But this step she did not take till a considerable portion of her +pittance was consumed--till nearly three parts of a year since Beaufort's +death had expired--and till sundry warnings, not to be lightly heeded, +had made her forebode the probability of an early death for herself. +From the age of sixteen, when she had been placed by Mr. Beaufort at the +head of his household, she had been cradled, not in extravagance, but in +an easy luxury, which had not brought with it habits of economy and +thrift. She could grudge anything to herself, but to her children--his +children, whose every whim had been anticipated, she had not the heart to +be saving. She could have starved in a garret had she been alone; but +she could not see them wanting a comfort while she possessed a guinea. +Philip, to do him justice, evinced a consideration not to have been +expected from his early and arrogant recklessness. But Sidney, who could +expect consideration from such a child? What could he know of the change +of circumstances--of the value of money? Did he seem dejected, Catherine +would steal out and spend a week's income on the lapful of toys which she +brought home. Did he seem a shade more pale--did he complain of the +slightest ailment, a doctor must be sent for. Alas! her own ailments, +neglected and unheeded, were growing beyond the reach of medicine. +Anxious fearful--gnawed by regret for the past--the thought of famine in +the future--she daily fretted and wore herself away. She had cultivated +her mind during her secluded residence with Mr. Beaufort, but she had +learned none of the arts by which decayed gentlewomen keep the wolf from +the door; no little holiday accomplishments, which, in the day of need +turn to useful trade; no water-colour drawings, no paintings on velvet, +no fabrications of pretty gewgaws, no embroidery and fine needlework. +She was helpless--utterly helpless; if she had resigned herself to the +thought of service, she would not have had the physical strength for a +place of drudgery, and where could she have found the testimonials +necessary for a place of trust? A great change, at this time, was +apparent in Philip. Had he fallen, then, into kind hands, and under +guiding eyes, his passions and energies might have ripened into rare +qualities and great virtues. But perhaps as Goethe has somewhere said, +"Experience, after all, is the best teacher." He kept a constant guard +on his vehement temper--his wayward will; he would not have vexed his +mother for the world. But, strange to say (it was a great mystery in the +woman's heart), in proportion as he became more amiable, it seemed that +his mother loved him less. Perhaps she did not, in that change, +recognise so closely the darling of the old time; perhaps the very +weaknesses and importunities of Sidney, the hourly sacrifices the child +entailed upon her, endeared the younger son more to her from that natural +sense of dependence and protection which forms the great bond between +mother and child; perhaps too, as Philip had been one to inspire as much +pride as affection, so the pride faded away with the expectations that +had fed it, and carried off in its decay some of the affection that was +intertwined with it. However this be, Philip had formerly appeared the +more spoiled and favoured of the two: and now Sidney seemed all in all. +Thus, beneath the younger son's caressing gentleness, there grew up a +certain regard for self; it was latent, it took amiable colours; it had +even a certain charm and grace in so sweet a child, but selfishness it +was not the less. In this he differed from his brother. Philip was +self-willed: Sidney self-loving. A certain timidity of character, +endearing perhaps to the anxious heart of a mother, made this fault in +the younger boy more likely to take root. For, in bold natures, there is +a lavish and uncalculating recklessness which scorns self unconsciously +and though there is a fear which arises from a loving heart, and is but +sympathy for others--the fear which belongs to a timid character is but +egotism--but, when physical, the regard for one's own person: when moral, +the anxiety for one's own interests. + +It was in a small room in a lodging-house in the suburb of H---- that +Mrs. Morton was seated by the window, nervously awaiting the knock of the +postman, who was expected to bring her brother's reply to her letter. It +was therefore between ten and eleven o'clock--a morning in the merry +month of June. It was hot and sultry, which is rare in an English June. +A flytrap, red, white, and yellow, suspended from the ceiling, swarmed +with flies; flies were on the ceiling, flies buzzed at the windows; the +sofa and chairs of horsehair seemed stuffed with flies. There was an +air of heated discomfort in the thick, solid moreen curtains, in the +gaudy paper, in the bright-staring carpet, in the very looking-glass over +the chimney-piece, where a strip of mirror lay imprisoned in an embrace +of frame covered with yellow muslin. We may talk of the dreariness of +winter; and winter, no doubt, is desolate: but what in the world is more +dreary to eyes inured to the verdure and bloom of Nature--, + + "The pomp of groves and garniture of fields," + +--than a close room in a suburban lodging-house; the sun piercing every +corner; nothing fresh, nothing cool, nothing fragrant to be seen, felt, +or inhaled; all dust, glare, noise, with a chandler's shop, perhaps, next +door? Sidney armed with a pair of scissors, was cutting the pictures out +of a story-book, which his mother had bought him the day before. Philip, +who, of late, had taken much to rambling about the streets--it may be, in +hopes of meeting one of those benevolent, eccentric, elderly gentlemen, +he had read of in old novels, who suddenly come to the relief of +distressed virtue; or, more probably, from the restlessness that belonged +to his adventurous temperament;--Philip had left the house since +breakfast. + +"Oh! how hot this nasty room is!" exclaimed Sidney, abruptly, looking up +from his employment. "Sha'n't we ever go into the country, again, +mamma?" + +"Not at present, my love." + +"I wish I could have my pony; why can't I have my pony, mamma?" + +"Because,--because--the pony is sold, Sidney." + +"Who sold it?" + +"Your uncle." + +"He is a very naughty man, my uncle: is he not? But can't I have another +pony? It would be so nice, this fine weather!" + +"Ah! my dear, I wish I could afford it: but you shall have a ride this +week! Yes," continued the mother, as if reasoning with herself, in +excuse of the extravagance, "he does not look well: poor child! he must +have exercise." + +"A ride!--oh! that is my own kind mamma!" exclaimed Sidney, clapping his +hands. "Not on a donkey, you know!--a pony. The man down the street, +there, lets ponies. I must have the white pony with the long tail. But, +I say, mamma, don't tell Philip, pray don't; he would be jealous." + +"No, not jealous, my dear; why do you think so?" + +"Because he is always angry when I ask you for anything. It is very +unkind in him, for I don't care if he has a pony, too,--only not the +white one." + +Here the postman's knock, loud and sudden, started Mrs. Morton from her +seat. + +She pressed her hands tightly to her heart, as if to still its beating, +and went tremulously to the door; thence to the stairs, to anticipate the +lumbering step of the slipshod maidservent. + +"Give it me, Jane; give it me!" + +"One shilling and eightpence--double charged--if you please, ma'am! +Thank you." + +"Mamma, may I tell Jane to engage the pony?" + +"Not now, my love; sit down; be quiet: I--I am not well." + +Sidney, who was affectionate and obedient, crept back peaceably to the +window, and, after a short, impatient sigh, resumed the scissors and the +story-book. I do not apologise to the reader for the various letters I +am obliged to lay before him; for character often betrays itself more in +letters than in speech. Mr. Roger Morton's reply was couched in these +terms,-- + +"DEAR CATHERINE, I have received your letter of the 14th inst., and write +per return. I am very much grieved to hear of your afflictions; but, +whatever you say, I cannot think the late Mr. Beaufort acted like a +conscientious man, in forgetting to make his will, and leaving his little +ones destitute. It is all very well to talk of his intentions; but the +proof of the pudding is in the eating. And it is hard upon me, who have +a large family of my own, and get my livelihood by honest industry, to +have a rich gentleman's children to maintain. As for your story about +the private marriage, it may or not be. Perhaps you were taken in by +that worthless man, for a real marriage it could not be. And, as you +say, the law has decided that point; therefore, the less you say on the +matter the better. It all comes to the same thing. People are not bound +to believe what can't be proved. And even if what you say is true, you +are more to be blamed than pitied for holding your tongue so many years, +and discrediting an honest family, as ours has always been considered. I +am sure my wife would not have thought of such a thing for the finest +gentleman that ever wore shoe-leather. However, I don't want to hurt +your feelings; and I am sure I am ready to do whatever is right and +proper. You cannot expect that I should ask you to my house. My wife, +you know, is a very religious woman--what is called evangelical; but +that's neither here nor there: I deal with all people, churchmen and +dissenters--even Jews,--and don't trouble my head much about differences +in opinion. I dare say there are many ways to heaven; as I said, the +other day, to Mr. Thwaites, our member. But it is right to say my wife +will not hear of your coming here; and, indeed, it might do harm to my +business, for there are several elderly single gentlewomen, who buy +flannel for the poor at my shop, and they are very particular; as they +ought to be, indeed: for morals are very strict in this county, and +particularly in this town, where we certainly do pay very high church- +rates. Not that I grumble; for, though I am as liberal as any man, I am +for an established church; as I ought to be, since the dean is my best +customer. With regard to yourself I inclose you L10., and you will let +me know when it is gone, and I will see what more I can do. You say you +are very poorly, which I am sorry to hear; but you must pluck up your +spirits, and take in plain work; and I really think you ought to apply to +Mr. Robert Beaufort. He bears a high character; and notwithstanding your +lawsuit, which I cannot approve of, I dare say he might allow you L40. +or L50. a-year, if you apply properly, which would be the right thing in +him. So much for you. As for the boys--poor, fatherless creatures!--it +is very hard that they should be so punished for no fault of their own; +and my wife, who, though strict, is a good-hearted woman, is ready and +willing to do what I wish about them. You say the eldest is near sixteen +and well come on in his studies. I can get him a very good thing in a +light genteel way. My wife's brother, Mr. Christopher Plaskwith, is a +bookseller and stationer with pretty practice, in R----. He is a clever +man, and has a newspaper, which he kindly sends me every week; and, +though it is not my county, it has some very sensible views and is often +noticed in the London papers, as 'our provincial contemporary.'--Mr. +Plaskwith owes me some money, which I advanced him when he set up the +paper; and he has several times most honestly offered to pay me, in +shares in the said paper. But, as the thing might break, and I don't +like concerns I don't understand, I have not taken advantage of his very +handsome proposals. Now, Plaskwith wrote me word, two days ago, that he +wanted a genteel, smart lad, as assistant and 'prentice, and offered to +take my eldest boy; but we can't spare him. I write to Christopher by +this post; and if your youth will run down on the top of the coach, and +inquire for Mr. Plaskwith--the fare is trifling--I have no doubt he will +be engaged at once. But you will say, 'There's the premium to consider!' +No such thing; Kit will set off the premium against his debt to me; so +you will have nothing to pay. 'Tis a very pretty business; and the lad's +education will get him on; so that's off your mind. As to the little +chap, I'll take him at once. You say he is a pretty boy; and a pretty +boy is always a help in a linendraper's shop. He shall share and share +with my own young folks; and Mrs. Morton will take care of his washing +and morals. I conclude--(this is Mrs. M's. suggestion)--that he has had +the measles, cowpock, and whooping-cough, which please let me know. If +he behave well, which, at his age, we can easily break him into, he is +settled for life. So now you have got rid of two mouths to feed, and +have nobody to think of but yourself, which must be a great comfort. +Don't forget to write to Mr. Beaufort; and if he don't do something for +you he's not the gentleman I take him for; but you are my own flesh and +blood, and sha'n't starve; for, though I don't think it right in a man in +business to encourage what's wrong, yet, when a person's down in the +world, I think an ounce of hell is better than a pound of preaching. My +wife thinks otherwise, and wants to send you some tracts; but every +body can't be as correct as some folks. However, as I said before, +that's neither here nor there. Let me know when your boy comes down, and +also about the measles, cowpock, and whooping-cough; also if all's right +with Mr. Plaskwith. So now I hope you will feel more comfortable; and +remain, + "Dear Catherine, + "Your forgiving and affectionate brother, + "ROGER MORTON. +"High Street, N----, June 13." + +"P.S.--Mrs. M. says that she will be a mother to your little boy, and +that you had better mend up all his linen before you send him." + + +As Catherine finished this epistle, she lifted her eyes and beheld +Philip. He had entered noiselessly, and he remained silent, leaning +against the wall, and watching the face of his mother, which crimsoned +with painful humiliation while she read. Philip was not now the trim and +dainty stripling first introduced to the reader. He had outgrown his +faded suit of funereal mourning; his long-neglected hair hung elf-like +and matted down his cheeks; there was a gloomy look in his bright dark +eyes. Poverty never betrays itself more than in the features and form of +Pride. It was evident that his spirit endured, rather than accommodated +itself to, his fallen state; and, notwithstanding his soiled and +threadbare garments, and a haggardness that ill becomes the years of +palmy youth, there was about his whole mien and person a wild and savage +grandeur more impressive than his former ruffling arrogance of manner. + +"Well, mother," said he, with a strange mixture of sternness in his +countenance and pity in his voice; "well, mother, and what says your +brother?" + +"You decided for us once before, decide again. But I need not ask you; +you would never--" + +"I don't know," interrupted Philip, vaguely; "let me see what we are to +decide on." + +Mrs. Morton was naturally a woman of high courage and spirit, but +sickness and grief had worn down both; and though Philip was but sixteen, +there is something in the very nature of woman--especially in trouble-- +which makes her seek to lean on some other will than her own. She gave +Philip the letter, and went quietly to sit down by Sidney. + +"Your brother means well," said Philip, when he had concluded the +epistle. + +"Yes, but nothing is to be done; I cannot, cannot send poor Sidney to-- +to--" and Mrs. Morton sobbed. + +"No, my dear, dear mother, no; it would be terrible, indeed, to part you +and him. But this bookseller--Plaskwith--perhaps I shall be able to +support you both." + +"Why, you do not think, Philip, of being an apprentice!--you, who have +been so brought up--you, who are so proud!" + +"Mother, I would sweep the crossings for your sake I Mother, for your +sake I would go to my uncle Beaufort with my hat in my hand, for +halfpence. Mother, I am not proud--I would be honest, if I can--but when +I see you pining away, and so changed, the devil comes into me, and I +often shudder lest I should commit some crime--what, I don't know!" + +"Come here, Philip--my own Philip--my son, my hope, my firstborn!"--and +the mother's heart gushed forth in all the fondness of early days. +"Don't speak so terribly, you frighten me!" + +She threw her arms round his neck, and kissed him soothingly. He laid +his burning temples on her bosom, and nestled himself to her, as he had +been wont to do, after some stormy paroxysm of his passionate and wayward +infancy. So there they remained--their lips silent, their hearts +speaking to each other--each from each taking strange succour and holy +strength--till Philip rose, calm, and with a quiet smile, "Good-bye, +mother; I will go at once to Mr. Plaskwith." + +"But you have no money for the coach-fare; here, Philip," and she placed +her purse in his hand, from which he reluctantly selected a few +shillings. "And mind, if the man is rude and you dislike him--mind, you +must not subject yourself to insolence and mortification." + +"Oh, all will go well, don't fear," said Philip, cheerfully, and he left +the house. + +Towards evening he had reached his destination. The shop was of goodly +exterior, with a private entrance; over the shop was written, +"Christopher Plaskwith, Bookseller and Stationer:" on the private door a +brass plate, inscribed with "R---- and ---- Mercury Office, Mr. +Plaskwith." Philip applied at the private entrance, and was shown by +a "neat-handed Phillis" into a small office-room. In a few minutes the +door opened, and the bookseller entered. + +Mr. Christopher Plaskwith was a short, stout man, in drab-coloured +breeches, and gaiters to match; a black coat and waistcoat; he wore a +large watch-chain, with a prodigious bunch of seals, alternated by small +keys and old-fashioned mourning-rings. His complexion was pale and +sodden, and his hair short, dark, and sleek. The bookseller valued +himself on a likeness to Buonaparte; and affected a short, brusque, +peremptory manner, which he meant to be the indication of the vigorous +and decisive character of his prototype. + +"So you are the young gentleman Mr. Roger Morton recommends?" Here Mr. +Plaskwith took out a huge pocketbook, slowly unclasped it, staring hard +at Philip, with what he designed for a piercing and penetrative survey. + +"This is the letter--no! this is Sir Thomas Champerdown's order for fifty +copies of the last Mercury, containing his speech at the county meeting. +Your age, young man?--only sixteen?--look older;--that's not it--that's +not it--and this is it!--sit down. Yes, Mr. Roger Morton recommends you +--a relation--unfortunate circumstances--well educated--hum! Well, young +man, what have you to say for yourself?" + +"Sir?" + +"Can you cast accounts?--know bookkeeping?" + +"I know something of algebra, sir." + +"Algebra!--oh, what else?" + +"French and Latin." + +"Hum!--may be useful. Why do you wear your hair so long?--look at mine. +What's your name?" + +"Philip Morton." + +"Mr. Philip Morton, you have an intelligent countenance--I go a great +deal by countenances. You know the terms?--most favourable to you. No +premium--I settle that with Roger. I give board and bed--find your own +washing. Habits regular--'prenticeship only five years; when over, must +not set up in the same town. I will see to the indentures. When can you +come?" + +"When you please, sir." + +"Day after to-morrow, by six o'clock coach." + +"But, sir," said Philip, "will there be no salary? something, ever so +small, that I could send to my another?" + +"Salary, at sixteen?--board and bed-no premium! Salary, what for? +'Prentices have no salary!--you will have every comfort." + +"Give me less comfort, that I may give my mother more;--a little money, +ever so little, and take it out of my board: I can do with one meal a +day, sir." + +The bookseller was moved: he took a huge pinch of snuff out of his +waistcoat pocket, and mused a moment. He then said, as he re-examined +Philip: + +"Well, young man, I'll tell you what we will do. You shall come here +first upon trial;--see if we like each other before we sign the +indentures; allow you, meanwhile, five shillings a week. If you show +talent, will see if I and Roger can settle about some little allowance. +That do, eh?" + +"I thank you, sir, yes," said Philip, gratefully. "Agreed, then. Follow +me--present you to Mrs. P." Thus saying, Mr. Plaskwith returned the +letter to the pocket-book, and the pocket-book to the pocket; and, +putting his arms behind his coat tails, threw up his chin, and strode +through the passage into a small parlour, that locked upon a small +garden. Here, seated round the table, were a thin lady, with a squint +(Mrs. Plaskwith), two little girls, the Misses Plaskwith, also with +squints, and pinafores; a young man of three or four-and-twenty, in +nankeen trousers, a little the worse for washing, and a black velveteen +jacket and waistcoat. This young gentleman was very much freckled; wore +his hair, which was dark and wiry, up at one side, down at the other; had +a short thick nose; full lips; and, when close to him, smelt of cigars. +Such was Mr. Plimmins, Mr. Plaskwith's factotum, foreman in the shop, +assistant editor to the Mercury. Mr. Plaskwith formally went the round +of the introduction; Mrs. P. nodded her head; the Misses P. nudged each +other, and grinned; Mr. Plimmins passed his hand through his hair, +glanced at the glass, and bowed very politely. + +"Now, Mrs. P., my second cup, and give Mr. Morton his dish of tea. Must +be tired, sir--hot day. Jemima, ring--no, go to the stairs and call out +'more buttered toast.' That's the shorter way--promptitude is my rule in +life, Mr. Morton. Pray-hum, hum--have you ever, by chance, studied the +biography of the great Napoleon Buonaparte?" + +Mr. Plimmins gulped down his tea, and kicked Philip under the table. +Philip looked fiercely at the foreman, and replied, sullenly, "No, sir." + +"That's a pity. Napoleon Buonaparte was a very great man,--very! You +have seen his cast?--there it is, on the dumb waiter! Look at it! see a +likeness, eh?" + +"Likeness, sir? I never saw Napoleon Buonaparte." + +"Never saw him! No, just look round the room. Who does that bust put +you in mind of? who does it resemble?" + +Here Mr. Plaskwith rose, and placed himself in an attitude; his hand in +his waistcoat, and his face pensively inclined towards the tea-table. +"Now fancy me at St. Helena; this table is the ocean. Now, then, who is +that cast like, Mr. Philip Morton?" + +"I suppose, sir, it is like you!" + +"Ah, that it is! strikes every one! Does it not, Mrs. P., does it not? +And when you have known me longer, you will find a moral similitude--a +moral, sir! Straightforward--short--to the point--bold--determined!" + +"Bless me, Mr. P.!" said Mrs. Plaskwith, very querulously, "do make +haste with your tea; the young gentleman, I suppose, wants to go home, +and the coach passes in a quarter of an hour." + +"Have you seen Kean in Richard the Third, Mr. Morton?" asked Mr. +Plimmins. + +"I have never seen a play." + +"Never seen a play! How very odd!" + +"Not at all odd, Mr. Plimmins," said the stationer. "Mr. Morton has +known troubles--so hand him the hot toast." + +Silent and morose, but rather disdainful than sad, Philip listened to the +babble round him, and observed the ungenial characters with which he was +to associate. He cared not to please (that, alas! had never been +especially his study); it was enough for him if he could see, stretching +to his mind's eye beyond the walls of that dull room, the long vistas +into fairer fortune. At sixteen, what sorrow can freeze the Hope, or +what prophetic fear whisper, "Fool!" to the Ambition? He would bear back +into ease and prosperity, if not into affluence and station, the dear +ones left at home. From the eminence of five shillings a week, he looked +over the Promised Land. + +At length, Mr. Plaskwith, pulling out his watch, said, "Just in time to +catch the coach; make your bow and be off-smart's the word!" Philip +rose, took up his hat, made a stiff bow that included the whole group, +and vanished with his host. + +Mrs. Plaskwith breathed more easily when he was gone. "I never seed a +more odd, fierce, ill-bred-looking young man! I declare I am quite +afraid of him. What an eye he has!" + +"Uncommonly dark; what I may say gipsy-like," said Mr. Plimmins. + +"He! he! You always do say such good things, Plimmins. Gipsy-like, he! +he! So he is! I wonder if be can tell fortunes?" + +"He'll be long before he has a fortune of his own to tell. Ha! ha!" +said Plimmins. + +"He! he! how very good! you are so pleasant, Plimmins." + +While these strictures on his appearance were still going on, Philip had +already ascended the roof of the coach; and, waving his hand, with the +condescension of old times, to his future master, was carried away by the +"Express" in a whirlwind of dust. + +"A very warm evening, sir," said a passenger seated at his right; +puffing, while he spoke, from a short German pipe, a volume of smoke in +Philip's face. + +"Very warm. Be so good as to smoke into the face of the gentleman on the +other side of you," returned Philip, petulantly. + +"Ho, ho!" replied the passenger, with a loud, powerful laugh-the laugh of +a strong man. "You don't take to the pipe yet; you will by and by, when +you have known the cares and anxieties that I have gone through. A pipe! +--it is a great soother!--a pleasant comforter! Blue devils fly before +its honest breath! It ripens the brain--it opens the heart; and the man +who smokes thinks like a sage and acts like a Samaritan!" + +Roused from his reverie by this quaint and unexpected declamation, Philip +turned his quick glance at his neighbour. He saw a man of great bulk and +immense physical power--broad-shouldered--deep-chested--not corpulent, +but taking the same girth from bone and muscle that a corpulent man does +from flesh. He wore a blue coat--frogged, braided, and buttoned to the +throat. A broad-brimmed straw hat, set on one side, gave a jaunty +appearance to a countenance which, notwithstanding its jovial complexion +and smiling mouth, had, in repose, a bold and decided character. It was +a face well suited to the frame, inasmuch as it betokened a mind capable +of wielding and mastering the brute physical force of body;--light eyes +of piercing intelligence; rough, but resolute and striking features, and +a jaw of iron. There was thought, there was power, there was passion in +the shaggy brow, the deep-ploughed lines, the dilated, nostril and the +restless play of the lips. Philip looked hard and grave, and the man +returned his look. + +"What do you think of me, young gentleman?" asked the passenger, as he +replaced the pipe in his mouth. "I am a fine-looking man, am I not?" + +"You seem a strange one." + +"Strange!--Ay, I puzzle you, as I have done, and shall do, many. You +cannot read me as easily as I can read you. Come, shall I guess at your +character and circumstances? You are a gentleman, or something like it, +by birth;--that the tone of your voice tells me. You are poor, devilish +poor;--that the hole in your coat assures me. You are proud, fiery, +discontented, and unhappy;--all that I see in your face. It was because +I saw those signs that I spoke to you. I volunteer no acquaintance with +the happy." + +"I dare say not; for if you know all the unhappy you must have a +sufficiently large acquaintance," returned Philip. + +"Your wit is beyond your years! What is your calling, if the question +does not offend you?" + +"I have none as yet," said Philip, with a slight sigh, and a deep blush. + +"More's the pity!" grunted the smoker, with a long emphatic nasal +intonation. "I should have judged that you were a raw recruit in the +camp of the enemy." + +"Enemy! I don't understand you." + +"In other words, a plant growing out of a lawyer's desk. I will explain. +There is one class of spiders, industrious, hard-working octopedes, who, +out of the sweat of their brains (I take it, by the by, that a spider +must have a fine craniological development), make their own webs and +catch their flies. There is another class of spiders who have no stuff +in them wherewith to make webs; they, therefore, wander about, looking +out for food provided by the toil of their neighbours. Whenever they +come to the web of a smaller spider, whose larder seems well supplied, +they rush upon his domain--pursue him to his hole--eat him up if they +can--reject him if he is too tough for their maws, and quietly possess +themselves of all the legs and wings they find dangling in his meshes: +these spiders I call enemies--the world calls them lawyers!" + +Philip laughed: "And who are the first class of spiders?" + +"Honest creatures who openly confess that they live upon flies. Lawyers +fall foul upon them, under pretence of delivering flies from their +clutches. They are wonderful blood-suckers, these lawyers, in spite of +all their hypocrisy. Ha! ha! ho! ho!" + +And with a loud, rough chuckle, more expressive of malignity than mirth, +the man turned himself round, applied vigorously to his pipe, and sank +into a silence which, as mile after mile glided past the wheels, he did +not seem disposed to break. Neither was Philip inclined to be +communicative. Considerations for his own state and prospects swallowed +up the curiosity he might otherwise have felt as to his singular +neighbour. He had not touched food since the early morning. Anxiety had +made him insensible to hunger, till he arrived at Mr. Plaskwith's; and +then, feverish, sore, and sick at heart, the sight of the luxuries +gracing the tea-table only revolted him. He did not now feel hunger, but +he was fatigued and faint. For several nights the sleep which youth can +so ill dispense with had been broken and disturbed; and now, the rapid +motion of the coach, and the free current of a fresher and more +exhausting air than he had been accustomed to for many months, began to +operate on his nerves like the intoxication of a narcotic. His eyes grew +heavy; indistinct mists, through which there seemed to glare the various +squints of the female Plaskwiths, succeeded the gliding road and the +dancing trees. His head fell on his bosom; and thence, instinctively +seeking the strongest support at hand, inclined towards the stout smoker, +and finally nestled itself composedly on that gentleman's shoulder. The +passenger, feeling this unwelcome and unsolicited weight, took the pipe, +which he had already thrice refilled, from his lips, and emitted an angry +and impatient snort; finding that this produced no effect, and that the +load grew heavier as the boy's sleep grew deeper, he cried, in a loud +voice, "Holla! I did not pay my fare to be your bolster, young man!" and +shook himself lustily. Philip started, and would have fallen sidelong +from the coach, if his neighbour had not griped him hard with a hand that +could have kept a young oak from falling. + +"Rouse yourself!--you might have had an ugly tumble." Philip muttered +something inaudible, between sleeping and waking, and turned his dark +eyes towards the man; in that glance there was so much unconscious, but +sad and deep reproach, that the passenger felt touched and ashamed. +Before however, he could say anything in apology or conciliation, Philip +had again fallen asleep. But this time, as if he had felt and resented +the rebuff he had received, he inclined his head away from his neighbour, +against the edge of a box on the roof--a dangerous pillow, from which any +sudden jolt might transfer him to the road below. + +"Poor lad!--he looks pale!" muttered the man, and he knocked the weed +from his pipe, which he placed gently in his pocket. "Perhaps the smoke +was too much for him--he seems ill and thin," and he took the boy's long +lean fingers in his own. "His cheek is hollow!--what do I know but it +may be with fasting? Pooh! I was a brute. Hush, coachee, hush! don't +talk so loud, and be d---d to you--he will certainly be off!" and the +man softly and creepingly encircled the boy's waist with his huge arm. + +"Now, then, to shift his head; so-so,--that's right." Philip's sallow +cheek and long hair were now tenderly lapped on the soliloquist's bosom. +"Poor wretch! he smiles; perhaps he is thinking of home, and the +butterflies he ran after when he was an urchin--they never come back, +those days;--never--never--never! I think the wind veers to the east; he +may catch cold;"--and with that, the man, sliding the head for a moment, +and with the tenderness of a woman, from his breast to his shoulder, +unbuttoned his coat (as he replaced the weight, no longer unwelcomed, in +its former part), and drew the lappets closely round the slender frame of +the sleeper, exposing his own sturdy breast--for he wore no waistcoat--to +the sharpening air. Thus cradled on that stranger's bosom, wrapped from +the present and dreaming perhaps--while a heart scorched by fierce and +terrible struggles with life and sin made his pillow--of a fair and +unsullied future, slept the fatherless and friendless boy. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + "_Constance_. My life, my joy, my food, my all the world, + My widow-comfort."--King John. + +Amidst the glare of lamps--the rattle of carriages--the lumbering of +carts and waggons--the throng, the clamour, the reeking life and +dissonant roar of London, Philip woke from his happy sleep. He woke +uncertain and confused, and saw strange eyes bent on him kindly and +watchfully. + +"You have slept well, my lad!" said the passenger, in the deep ringing +voice which made itself heard above all the noises around. + +"And you have suffered me to incommode you thus!" said Philip, with more +gratitude in his voice and look than, perhaps, he had shown to any one +out of his own family since his birth. + +"You have had but little kindness shown you, my poor boy, if you think so +much of this." + +"No--all people were very kind to me once. I did not value it then." +Here the coach rolled heavily down the dark arch of the inn-yard. + +"Take care of yourself, my boy! You look ill;" and in the dark the man +slipped a sovereign into Philip's hand. + +"I don't want money. Though I thank you heartily all the same; it would +be a shame at my age to be a beggar. But can you think of an employment +where I can make something?--what they offer me is so trifling. I have a +mother and a brother--a mere child, sir--at home." + +"Employment!" repeated the man; and as the coach now stopped at the +tavern door, the light of the lamp fell full on his marked face. "Ay, I +know of employment; but you should apply to some one else to obtain it +for you! As for me, it is not likely that we shall meet again!" + +"I am sorry for that!--What and who are you?" asked Philip, with a rude +and blunt curiosity. + +"Me!" returned the passenger, with his deep laugh. "Oh! I know some +people who call me an honest fellow. Take the employment offered you, +no matter how trifling the wages--keep out of harm's way. Good night to +you!" + +So saying, he quickly descended from the roof, and, as he was directing +the coachman where to look for his carpetbag, Philip saw three or four +well-dressed men make up to him, shake him heartily by the hand, and +welcome him with great seeming cordiality. + +Philip sighed. "He has friends," he muttered to himself; and, paying his +fare, he turned from the bustling yard, and took his solitary way home. + +A week after his visit to R----, Philip was settled on his probation at +Mr. Plaskwith's, and Mrs. Morton's health was so decidedly worse, that +she resolved to know her fate, and consult a physician. The oracle was +at first ambiguous in its response. But when Mrs. Morton said firmly, +"I have duties to perform; upon your candid answer rest my Plans with +respect to my children--left, if I die suddenly, destitute in the +world,"--the doctor looked hard in her face, saw its calm resolution, and +replied frankly: + +"Lose no time, then, in arranging your plans; life is uncertain with all +--with you, especially; you may live some time yet, but your constitution +is much shaken--I fear there is water on the chest. No, ma'am-no fee. I +will see you again." + +The physician turned to Sidney, who played with his watch-chain, and +smiled up in his face. + +"And that child, sir?" said the mother, wistfully, forgetting the dread +fiat pronounced against herself,--"he is so delicate!" + +"Not at all, ma'am,--a very fine little fellow;" and the doctor patted +the boy's head, and abruptly vanished. + +"Ah! mamma, I wish you would ride--I wish you would take the white +pony!" + +"Poor boy! poor boy!" muttered the mother; "I must not be selfish." She +covered her face with her hands, and began to think! + +Could she, thus doomed, resolve on declining her brother's offer? Did it +not, at least, secure bread and shelter to her child? When she was dead, +might not a tie, between the uncle and nephew, be snapped asunder? Would +he be as kind to the boy as now when she could commend him with her own +lips to his care--when she could place that precious charge into his +hands? With these thoughts, she formed one of those resolutions which +have all the strength of self-sacrificing love. She would put the boy +from her, her last solace and comfort; she would die alone,--alone! + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + "Constance. When I shall meet him in the court of heaven, I shall + not know him."--King John. + +One evening, the shop closed and the business done, Mr. Roger Morton and +his family sat in that snug and comfortable retreat which generally backs +the warerooms of an English tradesman. Happy often, and indeed happy, is +that little sanctuary, near to, and yet remote from, the toil and care of +the busy mart from which its homely ease and peaceful security are drawn. +Glance down those rows of silenced shops in a town at night, and picture +the glad and quiet groups gathered within, over that nightly and social +meal which custom has banished from the more indolent tribes who neither +toil nor spin. Placed between the two extremes of life, the tradesman, +who ventures not beyond his means, and sees clear books and sure gains, +with enough of occupation to give healthful excitement, enough of fortune +to greet each new-born child without a sigh, might be envied alike by +those above and those below his state--if the restless heart of men ever +envied Content! + +"And so the little boy is not to come?" said Mrs. Morton as she crossed +her knife and fork, and pushed away her plate, in token that she had done +supper. + +"I don't know.--Children, go to bed; there--there--that will do. Good +night!--Catherine does not say either yes or no. She wants time to +consider." + +"It was a very handsome offer on our part; some folks never know when +they are well off." + +"That is very true, my dear, and you are a very sensible person. Kate +herself might have been an honest woman, and, what is more, a very rich +woman, by this time. She might have married Spencer, the young brewer-- +an excellent man, and well to do!" + +"Spencer! I don't remember him." + +"No: after she went off, he retired from business, and left the place. +I don't know what's become of him. He was mightily taken with her, to be +sure. She was uncommonly handsome, my sister Catherine." + +"Handsome is as handsome does, Mr. Morton," said the wife, who was very +much marked with the small-pox. "We all have our temptations and trials; +this is a vale of tears, and without grace we are whited sepulchers." + +Mr. Morton mixed his brandy and water, and moved his chair into its +customary corner. + +"You saw your brother's letter," said he, after a pause; "he gives young +Philip a very good character." + +"The human heart is very deceitful," replied Mrs. Morton, who, by the +way, spoke through her nose. "Pray Heaven he may be what he seems; but +what's bred in the bone comes out in the flesh." + +"We must hope the best," said Mr. Morton, mildly; "and--put another lump +into the grog, my dear." + +"It is a mercy, I'm thinking, that we didn't have the other little boy. +I dare say he has never even been taught his catechism: them people don't +know what it is to be a mother. And, besides, it would have been very +awkward, Mr. M.; we could never have said who he was: and I've no doubt +Miss Pryinall would have been very curious." + +"Miss Pryinall be ----!" Mr. Morton checked himself, took a large +draught of the brandy and water, and added, "Miss Pryinall wants to have +a finger in everybody's pie." + +"But she buys a deal of flannel, and does great good to the town; it was +she who found out that Mrs. Giles was no better than she should be." + +"Poor Mrs. Giles!--she came to the workhouse." + +"Poor Mrs. Giles, indeed! I wonder, Mr. Morton, that you, a married man +with a family, should say, poor Mrs. Giles!" + +"My dear, when people who have been well off come to the workhouse, they +may be called poor:--but that's neither here nor there; only, if the boy +does come to us, we must look sharp upon Miss Pryinall." + +"I hope he won't come,--it will be very unpleasant. And when a man has a +wife and family, the less he meddles with other folks and their little +ones, the better. For as the Scripture says, 'A man shall cleave to his +wife and--'" + +Here a sharp, shrill ring at the bell was heard, and Mrs. Morton broke +off into: + +"Well! I declare! at this hour; who can that be? And all gone to bed! +Do go and see, Mr. Morton." + +Somewhat reluctantly and slowly, Mr. Morton rose; and, proceeding to the +passage, unbarred the door. A brief and muttered conversation followed, +to the great irritability of Mrs. Morton, who stood in the passage--the +candle in her hand. + +"What is the matter, Mr. M.?" + +Mr. Morton turned back, looking agitated. + +"Where's my hat? oh, here. My sister is come, at the inn." + +"Gracious me! She does not go for to say she is your sister?" + +"No, no: here's her note-calls herself a lady that's ill. I shall be +back soon." + +"She can't come here--she sha'n't come here, Mr. M. I'm an honest woman-- +she can't come here. You understand--" + +Mr. Morton had naturally a stern countenance, stern to every one but his +wife. The shrill tone to which he was so long accustomed jarred then on +his heart as well as his ear. He frowned: + +"Pshaw! woman, you have no feeling!" said he, and walked out of the +house, pulling his hat over his brows. That was the only rude speech Mr. +Morton had ever made to his better half. She treasured it up in her +heart and memory; it was associated with the sister and the child; and +she was not a woman who ever forgave. + +Mr. Morton walked rapidly through the still, moon-lit streets, till he +reached the inn. A club was held that night in one of the rooms below; +and as he crossed the threshold, the sound of "hip-hip-hurrah!" mingled +with the stamping of feet and the jingling of glasses, saluted his +entrance. He was a stiff, sober, respectable man,--a man who, except at +elections--he was a great politician--mixed in none of the revels of his +more boisterous townsmen. The sounds, the spot, were ungenial to him. +He paused, and the colour of shame rose to his brow. He was ashamed to +be there--ashamed to meet the desolate and, as he believed, erring +sister. + +A pretty maidservant, heated and flushed with orders and compliments, +crossed his path with a tray full of glasses. + +"There's a lady come by the Telegraph?" + +"Yes, sir, upstairs, No. 2, Mr. Morton." + +Mr. Morton! He shrank at the sound of his own name. + +"My wife's right," he muttered. "After all, this is more unpleasant than +I thought for." + +The slight stairs shook under his hasty tread. He opened the door of No. +2, and that Catherine, whom he had last seen at her age of gay sixteen, +radiant with bloom, and, but for her air of pride, the model for a Hebe, +--that Catherine, old ere youth was gone, pale, faded, the dark hair +silvered over, the cheeks hollow, and the eye dim,--that Catherine fell +upon his breast! + +"God bless you, brother! How kind to come! How long since we have met!" + +"Sit down, Catherine, my dear sister. You are faint--you are very much +changed-very. I should not have known you." + +"Brother, I have brought my boy; it is painful to part from him--very-- +very painful: but it is right, and God's will be done." She turned, as +she spoke, towards a little, deformed rickety dwarf of a sofa, that +seemed to hide itself in the darkest corner of the low, gloomy room; and +Morton followed her. With one hand she removed the shawl that she had +thrown over the child, and placing the forefinger of the other upon her +lips-lips that smiled then--she whispered,--"We will not wake him, he is +so tired. But I would not put him to bed till you had seen him." + +And there slept poor Sidney, his fair cheek pillowed on his arm; the +soft, silky ringlets thrown from the delicate and unclouded brow; the +natural bloom increased by warmth and travel; the lovely face so innocent +and hushed; the breathing so gentle and regular, as if never broken by a +sigh. + +Mr. Morton drew his hand across his eyes. + +There was something very touching in the contrast between that wakeful, +anxious, forlorn woman, and the slumber of the unconscious boy. And in +that moment, what breast upon which the light of Christian pity--of +natural affection, had ever dawned, would, even supposing the world's +judgment were true, have recalled Catherine's reputed error? There is +so divine a holiness in the love of a mother, that no matter how the +tie that binds her to the child was formed, she becomes, as it were, +consecrated and sacred; and the past is forgotten, and the world and its +harsh verdicts swept away, when that love alone is visible; and the God, +who watches over the little one, sheds His smile over the human deputy, +in whose tenderness there breathes His own! + +"You will be kind to him--will you not?" said Mrs. Morton; and the +appeal was made with that trustful, almost cheerful tone which implies, +'Who would not be kind to a thing so fair and helpless?' "He is very +sensitive and very docile; you will never have occasion to say a hard +word to him--never! you have children of your own, brother." + +"He is a beautiful boy-beautiful. I will be a father to him!" + +As he spoke,--the recollection of his wife--sour, querulous, austere-- +came over him, but he said to himself, "She must take to such a child,-- +women always take to beauty." He bent down and gently pressed his lips +to Sidney's forehead: Mrs. Morton replaced the shawl, and drew her +brother to the other end of the room. + +"And now," she said, colouring as she spoke, "I must see your wife, +brother: there is so much to say about a child that only a woman will +recollect. Is she very good-tempered and kind, your wife? You know I +never saw her; you married after--after I left." + +"She is a very worthy woman," said Mr. Morton, clearing his throat, "and +brought me some money; she has a will of her own, as most women have; but +that's neither here nor there--she is a good wife as wives go; and +prudent and painstaking--I don't know what I should do without her." + +"Brother, I have one favour to request--a great favour." + +"Anything I can do in the way of money?" + +"It has nothing to do with money. I can't live long--don't shake your +head--I can't live long. I have no fear for Philip, he has so much +spirit--such strength of character--but that child! I cannot bear to +leave him altogether; let me stay in this town--I can lodge anywhere; but +to see him sometimes--to know I shall be in reach if he is ill--let me +stay here--let me die here!" + +"You must not talk so sadly--you are young yet--younger than I am--I +don't think of dying." + +"Heaven forbid! but--" + +"Well--well," interrupted Mr. Morton, who began to fear his feelings +would hurry him into some promise which his wife would not suffer him to +keep; "you shall talk to Margaret,--that is Mrs. Morton--I will get her +to see you--yes, I think I can contrive that; and if you can arrange with +her to stay,--but you see, as she brought the money, and is a very +particular woman--" + +"I will see her; thank you--thank you; she cannot refuse me." + +"And, brother," resumed Mrs. Morton, after a short pause, and speaking in +a firm voice--"and is it possible that you disbelieve my story?--that +you, like all the rest, consider my children the sons of shame?" + +There was an honest earnestness in Catherine's voice, as she spoke, +that might have convinced many. But Mr. Morton was a man of facts, a +practical man--a man who believed that law was always right, and that +the improbable was never true. + +He looked down as he answered, "I think you have been a very ill-used +woman, Catherine, and that is all I can say on the matter; let us drop +the subject." + +"No! I was not ill-used; my husband--yes, my husband--was noble and +generous from first to last. It was for the sake of his children's +prospects--for the expectations they, through him, might derive from his +proud uncle--that he concealed our marriage. Do not blame Philip--do not +condemn the dead." + +"I don't want to blame any one," said Mr. Morton, rather angrily; "I am a +plain man--a tradesman, and can only go by what in my class seems fair +and honest, which I can't think Mr. Beaufort's conduct was, put it how +you will; if he marries you as you think, he gets rid of a witness, he +destroys a certificate, and he dies without a will. How ever, all that's +neither here nor there. You do quite right not to take the name of +Beaufort, since it is an uncommon name, and would always make the story +public. Least said, soonest mended. You must always consider that your +children will be called natural children, and have their own way to make. +No harm in that! Warm day for your journey." Catherine sighed, and +wiped her eyes; she no longer reproached the world, since the son of her +own mother disbelieved her. + +The relations talked together for some minutes on the past--the present; +but there was embarrassment and constraint on both sides--it was so +difficult to avoid one subject; and after sixteen years of absence, +there is little left in common, even between those who once played +together round their parent's knees. Mr. Morton was glad at last to find +an excuse in Catherine's fatigue to leave her. "Cheer up, and take a +glass of something warm before you go to bed. Good night!" these were +his parting words. + +Long was the conference, and sleepless the couch, of Mr. and Mrs. Morton. +At first that estimable lady positively declared she would not and could +not visit Catherine (as to receiving her, that was out of the question). +But she secretly resolved to give up that point in order to insist with +greater strength upon another-viz., the impossibility of Catherine +remaining in the town; such concession for the purpose of resistance +being a very common and sagacious policy with married ladies. +Accordingly, when suddenly, and with a good grace, Mrs. Morton appeared +affected by her husband's eloquence, and said, "Well, poor thing! if she +is so ill, and you wish it so much, I will call to-morrow," Mr. Morton +felt his heart softened towards the many excellent reasons which his wife +urged against allowing Catherine to reside in the town. He was a +political character--he had many enemies; the story of his seduced +sister, now forgotten, would certainly be raked up; it would affect his +comfort, perhaps his trade, certainly his eldest daughter, who was now +thirteen; it would be impossible then to adopt the plan hitherto resolved +upon--of passing off Sidney as the legitimate orphan of a distant +relation; it would be made a great handle for gossip by Miss Pryinall. +Added to all these reasons, one not less strong occurred to Mr. Morton +himself--the uncommon and merciless rigidity of his wife would render all +the other women in the town very glad of any topic that would humble her +own sense of immaculate propriety. Moreover, he saw that if Catherine +did remain, it would be a perpetual source of irritation in his own home; +he was a man who liked an easy life, and avoided, as far as possible, all +food for domestic worry. And thus, when at length the wedded pair turned +back to back, and composed themselves to sleep, the conditions of peace +were settled, and the weaker party, as usual in diplomacy, sacrificed to +the interests of the united powers. After breakfast the next morning, +Mrs. Morton sallied out on her husband's arm. Mr. Morton was rather a +handsome man, with an air and look grave, composed, severe, that had +tended much to raise his character in the town. + +Mrs. Morton was short, wiry, and bony. She had won her husband by making +desperate love to him, to say nothing of a dower that enabled him to +extend his business, new-front, as well as new-stock his shop, and rise +into the very first rank of tradesmen in his native town. He still +believed that she was excessively fond of him--a common delusion of +husbands, especially when henpecked. Mrs. Morton was, perhaps, fond of +him in her own way; for though her heart was not warm, there may be a +great deal of fondness with very little feeling. The worthy lady was now +clothed in her best. She had a proper pride in showing the rewards that +belong to female virtue. Flowers adorned her Leghorn bonnet, and her +green silk gown boasted four flounces,--such, then, was, I am told, the +fashion. She wore, also, a very handsome black shawl, extremely heavy, +though the day was oppressively hot, and with a deep border; a smart +_sevigni_ brooch of yellow topazes glittered in her breast; a huge gilt +serpent glared from her waistband; her hair, or more properly speaking +her _front_, was tortured into very tight curls, and her feet into very +tight half-laced boots, from which the fragrance of new leather had not +yet departed. It was this last infliction, for _il faut souffrir pour +etre belle_, which somewhat yet more acerbated the ordinary acid of Mrs. +Morton's temper. The sweetest disposition is ruffled when the shoe +pinches; and it so happened that Mrs. Roger Morton was one of those +ladies who always have chilblains in the winter and corns in the summer. +"So you say your sister is a beauty?" + +"Was a beauty, Mrs. M.,--was a beauty. People alter." + +"A bad conscience, Mr. Morton, is--" + +"My dear, can't you walk faster?" + +"If you had my corns, Mr. Morton, you would not talk in that way!" + +The happy pair sank into silence, only broken by sundry "How d'ye dos?" +and "Good mornings!" interchanged with their friends, till they arrived +at the inn. + +"Let us go up quickly," said Mrs. Morton. + +And quiet--quiet to gloom, did the inn, so noisy overnight, seem by +morning. The shutters partially closed to keep out the sun--the taproom +deserted--the passage smelling of stale smoke--an elderly dog, lazily +snapping at the flies, at the foot of the staircase--not a soul to be +seen at the bar. The husband and wife, glad to be unobserved, crept on +tiptoe up the stairs, and entered Catherine's apartment. + +Catherine was seated on the sofa, and Sidney-dressed, like Mrs. Roger +Morton, to look his prettiest, nor yet aware of the change that awaited +his destiny, but pleased at the excitement of seeing new friends, as +handsome children sure of praise and petting usually are--stood by her +side. + +"My wife--Catherine," said Mr. Morton. Catherine rose eagerly, and gazed +searchingly on her sister-in-law's hard face. She swallowed the +convulsive rising at her heart as she gazed, and stretched out both her +hands, not so much to welcome as to plead. Mrs. Roger Morton drew +herself up, and then dropped a courtesy--it was an involuntary piece of +good breeding--it was extorted by the noble countenance, the matronly +mien of Catherine, different from what she had anticipated--she dropped +the courtesy, and Catherine took her hand and pressed it. + +"This is my son;" she turned away her head. Sidney advanced towards his +protectress who was to be, and Mrs. Roger muttered: + +"Come here, my dear! A fine little boy!" + +"As fine a child as ever I saw!" said Mr. Morton, heartily, as he took +Sidney on his lap, and stroked down his, golden hair. + +This displeased Mrs. Roger Morton, but she sat herself down, and said it +was "very warm." + +"Now go to that lady, my dear," said Mr. Morton. "Is she not a very nice +lady?--don't you think you shall like her very much?" + +Sidney, the best-mannered child in the world, went boldly up to Mrs. +Morton, as he was bid. Mrs. Morton was embarrassed. Some folks are so +with other folk's children: a child either removes all constraint from a +party, or it increases the constraint tenfold. Mrs. Morton, however, +forced a smile, and said, "I have a little boy at home about your age." + +"Have you?" exclaimed Catherine, eagerly; and as if that confession made +them friends at once, she drew a chair close to her sister-in-law's,--"My +brother has told you all?" + +"Yes, ma'am." + +"And I shall stay here--in the town somewhere--and see him sometimes?" + +Mrs. Roger Morton glanced at her husband--her husband glanced at the +door--and Catherine's quick eye turned from one to the other. + +"Mr. Morton will explain, ma' am," said the wife. + +"E-hem!--Catherine, my dear, I am afraid that is out of the question," +began Mr. Morton, who, when fairly put to it, could be business-like +enough. "You see bygones are bygones, and it is no use raking them up. +But many people in the town will recollect you." + +"No one will see me--no one, but you and Sidney." + +"It will be sure to creep out; won't it, Mrs. Morton?" +"Quite sure. Indeed, ma'am, it is impossible. Mr. Morton is so very +respectable, and his neighbours pay so much attention to all he does; and +then, if we have an election in the autumn, you see, ma'am, he has a +great stake in the place, and is a public character." + +"That's neither here nor there," said Mr. Morton. "But I say, Catherine, +can your little boy go into the other room for a moment? Margaret, +suppose you take him and make friends." + +Delighted to throw on her husband the burden of explanation, which she +had originally meant to have all the importance of giving herself in her +most proper and patronising manner, Mrs. Morton twisted her fingers into +the boy's hand, and, opening the door that communicated with the bedroom, +left the brother and sister alone. And then Mr. Morton, with more tact +and delicacy than might have been expected from him, began to soften to +Catherine the hard ship of the separation he urged. He dwelt principally +on what was best for the child. Boys were so brutal in their intercourse +with each other. He had even thought it better represent Philip to Mr. +Plaskwith as a more distant relation than he was; and he begged, by the +by, that Catherine would tell Philip to take the hint. But as for +Sidney, sooner or later, he would go to a day-school--have companions +of his own age--if his birth were known, he would be exposed to many +mortifications--so much better, and so very easy, to bring him up as the +lawful, that is the legal, offspring of some distant relation. + +"And," cried poor Catherine, clasping her bands, "when I am dead, is he +never to know that I was his mother?" The anguish of that question +thrilled the heart of the listener. He was affected below all the +surface that worldly thoughts and habits had laid, stratum by stratum, +over the humanities within. He threw his arms round Catherine, and +strained her to his breast: + +"No, my sister--my poor sister-he shall know it when he is old enough to +understand, and to keep his own secret. He shall know, too, how we all +loved and prized you once; how young you were, how flattered and tempted; +how you were deceived, for I know that--on my soul I do--I know it was +not your fault. He shall know, too, how fondly you loved your child, and +how you sacrificed, for his sake, the very comfort of being near him. He +shall know it all--all--" + +"My brother--my brother, I resign him--I am content. God reward you. +I will go--go quickly. I know you will take care of him now." + +"And you see," resumed Mr. Morton, re-settling himself, and wiping his +eyes, "it is best, between you and me, that Mrs. Morton should have her +own way in this. She is a very good woman--very; but it's prudent not to +vex her. You may come in now, Mrs. Morton." + +Mrs. Morton and Sidney reappeared. + +"We have settled it all," said the husband. "When can we have him?" + +"Not to-day," said Mrs. Roger Morton; "you see, ma'am, we must get his +bed ready, and his sheets well aired: I am very particular." + +"Certainly, certainly. Will he sleep alone?--pardon me." + +"He shall have a room to himself," said Mr. Morton. "Eh, my dear? Next +to Martha's. Martha is our parlourmaid--very good-natured girl, and fond +of children." + +Mrs. Morton looked grave, thought a moment, and said, "Yes, he can have +that room." + +"Who can have that room?" asked Sidney, innocently. "You, my dear," +replied Mr. Morton. + +"And where will mamma sleep? I must sleep near mamma." + +"Mamma is going away," said Catherine, in a firm voice, in which the +despair would only have been felt by the acute ear of sympathy,--"going +away for a little time: but this gentleman and lady will be very--very +kind to you." + +"We will do our best, ma'am," said Mrs. Morton. + +And as she spoke, a sudden light broke on the boy's mind--he uttered a +loud cry, broke from his aunt, rushed to his mother's breast, and hid his +face there, sobbing bitterly. + +"I am afraid he has been very much spoiled," whispered Mrs. Roger Morton. +"I don't think we need stay longer--it will look suspicious. Good +morning, ma'am: we shall be ready to-morrow." + +"Good-bye, Catherine," said Mr. Morton; and he added, as he kissed her, +"Be of good heart, I will come up by myself and spend the evening with +you." + +It was the night after this interview. Sidney had gone to his new home; +they had been all kind to him--Mr. Morton, the children, Martha the +parlour-maid. Mrs. Roger herself had given him a large slice of bread +and jam, but had looked gloomy all the rest of the evening: because, like +a dog in a strange place, he refused to eat. His little heart was full, +and his eyes, swimming with tears, were turned at every moment to the +door. But he did not show the violent grief that might have been +expected. His very desolation, amidst the unfamiliar faces, awed and +chilled him. But when Martha took him to bed, and undressed him, and he +knelt down to say his prayers, and came to the words, "Pray God bless +dear mamma, and make me a good child," his heart could contain its load +no longer, and be sobbed with a passion that alarmed the good-natured +servant. She had been used, however, to children, and she soothed and +caressed him, and told him of all the nice things he would do, and the +nice toys he would have; and at last, silenced, if not convinced, his +eyes closed, and, the tears yet wet on their lashes, he fell asleep. + +It had been arranged that Catherine should return home that night by a +late coach, which left the town at twelve. It was already past eleven. +Mrs. Morton had retired to bed; and her husband, who had, according to +his wont, lingered behind to smoke a cigar over his last glass of brandy +and water, had just thrown aside the stump, and was winding up his watch, +when he heard a low tap at his window. He stood mute and alarmed, for +the window opened on a back lane, dark and solitary at night, and, from +the heat of the weather, the iron-cased shutter was not yet closed; the +sound was repeated, and he heard a faint voice. He glanced at the poker, +and then cautiously moved to the window, and looked forth,--"Who's +there?" + +"It is I--it is Catherine! I cannot go without seeing my boy. I must +see him--I must, once more!" + +"My dear sister, the place is shut up--it is impossible. God bless me, +if Mrs. Morton should hear you!" + +"I have walked before this window for hours--I have waited till all is +hushed in your house, till no one, not even a menial, need see the mother +stealing to the bed of her child. Brother, by the memory of our own +mother, I command you to let me look, for the last time, upon my boy's +face!" + +As Catherine said this, standing in that lonely street--darkness and +solitude below, God and the stars above--there was about her a majesty +which awed the listener. Though she was so near, her features were not +very clearly visible; but her attitude--her hand raised aloft--the +outline of her wasted but still commanding form, were more impressive +from the shadowy dimness of the air. + +"Come round, Catherine," said Mr. Morton after a pause; "I will admit +you." + +He shut the window, stole to the door, unbarred it gently, and admitted +his visitor. He bade her follow him; and, shading the light with his +hand, crept up the stairs. Catherine's step made no sound. + +They passed, unmolested, and unheard, the room in which the wife was +drowsily reading, according to her custom before she tied her nightcap +and got into bed, a chapter in some pious book. They ascended to the +chamber where Sidney lay; Morton opened the door cautiously, and stood at +the threshold, so holding the candle that its light might not wake the +child, though it sufficed to guide Catherine to the bed. The room was +small, perhaps close, but scrupulously clean; for cleanliness was Mrs. +Roger Morton's capital virtue. The mother, with a tremulous hand, drew +aside the white curtains, and checked her sobs as she gazed on the young +quiet face that was turned towards her. She gazed some moments in +passionate silence; who shall say, beneath that silence, what thoughts, +what prayers moved and stirred! + +Then bending down, with pale, convulsive lips she kissed the little hands +thrown so listlessly on the coverlet of the pillow on which the head lay. +After this she turned her face to her brother with a mute appeal in her +glance, took a ring from her finger--a ring that had never till then left +it--the ring which Philip Beaufort had placed there the day after that +child was born. "Let him wear this round his neck," said she, and +stopped, lest she should sob aloud, and disturb the boy. In that gift +she felt as if she invoked the father's spirit to watch over the +friendless orphan; and then, pressing together her own hands firmly, as +we do in some paroxysm of great pain, she turned from the room, descended +the stairs, gained the street, and muttered to her brother, "I am happy +now; peace be on these thresholds!" Before he could answer she was gone. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + "Thus things are strangely wrought, + While joyful May doth last; + Take May in Time--when May is gone + The pleasant time is past."--RICHARD EDWARDS. + From the Paradise of Dainty Devices. + +It was that period of the year when, to those who look on the surface of +society, London wears its most radiant smile; when shops are gayest, and +trade most brisk; when down the thoroughfares roll and glitter the +countless streams of indolent and voluptuous life; when the upper class +spend, and the middle class make; when the ball-room is the Market of +Beauty, and the club-house the School for Scandal; when the hells yawn +for their prey, and opera-singers and fiddlers--creatures hatched from +gold, as the dung-flies from the dung-swarm, and buzz, and fatten, round +the hide of the gentle Public In the cant phase, it was "the London +season." And happy, take it altogether, happy above the rest of the +year, even for the hapless, is that period of ferment and fever. It is +not the season for duns, and the debtor glides about with a less anxious +eye; and the weather is warm, and the vagrant sleeps, unfrozen, under the +starlit portico; and the beggar thrives, and the thief rejoices--for the +rankness of the civilisation has superfluities clutched by all. And out +of the general corruption things sordid and things miserable crawl forth +to bask in the common sunshine--things that perish when the first autumn +winds whistle along the melancholy city. It is the gay time for the heir +and the beauty, and the statesman and the lawyer, and the mother with her +young daughters, and the artist with his fresh pictures, and the poet +with his new book. It is the gay time, too, for the starved journeyman, +and the ragged outcast that with long stride and patient eyes follows, +for pence, the equestrian, who bids him go and be d---d in vain. It is a +gay time for the painted harlot in a crimson pelisse; and a gay time for +the old hag that loiters about the thresholds of the gin-shop, to buy +back, in a draught, the dreams of departed youth. It is gay, in fine, as +the fulness of a vast city is ever gay--for Vice as for Innocence, for +Poverty as for Wealth. And the wheels of every single destiny wheel on +the merrier, no matter whether they are bound to Heaven or to Hell. + +Arthur Beaufort, the young heir, was at his father's house. He was fresh +from Oxford, where he had already discovered that learning is not better +than house and land. Since the new prospects opened to him, Arthur +Beaufort was greatly changed. Naturally studious and prudent, had his +fortunes remained what they had been before his uncle's death, he would +probably have become a laborious and distinguished man. But though his +abilities were good, he had not those restless impulses which belong to +Genius--often not only its glory, but its curse. The Golden Rod cast his +energies asleep at once. Good-natured to a fault, and somewhat +vacillating in character, he adopted the manner and the code of the rich +young idlers who were his equals at College. He became, like them, +careless, extravagant, and fond of pleasure. This change, if it +deteriorated his mind, improved his exterior. It was a change that +could not but please women; and of all women his mother the most. Mrs. +Beaufort was a lady of high birth; and in marrying her, Robert had hoped +much from the interest of her connections; but a change in the ministry +had thrown her relations out of power; and, beyond her dowry, he obtained +no worldly advantage with the lady of his mercenary choice. Mrs. +Beaufort was a woman whom a word or two will describe. She was +thoroughly commonplace--neither bad nor good, neither clever nor silly. +She was what is called well-bred; that is, languid, silent, perfectly +dressed, and insipid. Of her two children, Arthur was almost the +exclusive favourite, especially after he became the heir to such +brilliant fortunes. For she was so much the mechanical creature of the +world, that even her affection was warm or cold in proportion as the +world shone on it. Without being absolutely in love with her husband, +she liked him--they suited each other; and (in spite of all the +temptations that had beset her in their earlier years, for she had been +esteemed a beauty--and lived, as worldly people must do, in circles where +examples of unpunished gallantry are numerous and contagious) her conduct +had ever been scrupulously correct. She had little or no feeling for +misfortunes with which she had never come into contact; for those with +which she had--such as the distresses of younger sons, or the errors of +fashionable women, or the disappointments of "a proper ambition"--she had +more sympathy than might have been supposed, and touched on them with all +the tact of well-bred charity and ladylike forbearance. Thus, though she +was regarded as a strict person in point of moral decorum, yet in society +she was popular-as women at once pretty and inoffensive generally are. + +To do Mrs. Beaufort justice, she had not been privy to the letter her +husband wrote to Catherine, although not wholly innocent of it. The fact +is, that Robert had never mentioned to her the peculiar circumstances +that made Catherine an exception from ordinary rules--the generous +propositions of his brother to him the night before his death; and, +whatever his incredulity as to the alleged private marriage, the perfect +loyalty and faith that Catherine had borne to the deceased,--he had +merely observed, "I must do something, I suppose, for that woman; she +very nearly entrapped my poor brother into marrying her; and he would +then, for what I know, have cut Arthur out of the estates. Still, I must +do something for her--eh?" + +"Yes, I think so. What was she?-very low?" + +"A tradesman's daughter." + +"The children should be provided for according to the rank of the mother; +that's the general rule in such cases: and the mother should have about +the same provision she might have looked for if she had married a +tradesman and been left a widow. I dare say she was a very artful kind +of person, and don't deserve anything; but it is always handsomer, in the +eyes of the world, to go by the general rules people lay down as to money +matters." + +So spoke Mrs. Beaufort. She concluded her husband had settled the +matter, and never again recurred to it. Indeed, she had never liked the +late Mr. Beaufort, whom she considered _mauvais ton_. + +In the breakfast-room at Mr. Beaufort's, the mother and son were seated; +the former at work, the latter lounging by the window: they were not +alone. In a large elbow-chair sat a middle-aged man, listening, or +appearing to listen, to the prattle of a beautiful little girl--Arthur +Beaufort's sister. This man was not handsome, but there was a certain +elegance in his air, and a certain intelligence in his countenance, which +made his appearance pleasing. He had that kind of eye which is often +seen with red hair--an eye of a reddish hazel, with very long lashes; the +eyebrows were dark, and clearly defined; and the short hair showed to +advantage the contour of a small well-shaped head. His features were +irregular; the complexion had been sanguine, but was now faded, and a +yellow tinge mingled with the red. His face was more wrinkled, +especially round the eyes--which, when he laughed, were scarcely visible +--than is usual even in men ten years older. But his teeth were still of +a dazzling whiteness; nor was there any trace of decayed health in his +countenance. He seemed one who had lived hard; but who had much yet left +in the lamp wherewith to feed the wick. At the first glance he appeared +slight, as he lolled listlessly in his chair--almost fragile. But, at a +nearer examination, you perceived that, in spite of the small extremities +and delicate bones, his frame was constitutionally strong. Without being +broad in the shoulders, he was exceedingly deep in the chest--deeper than +men who seemed giants by his side; and his gestures had the ease of one +accustomed to an active life. He had, indeed, been celebrated in his +youth for his skill in athletic exercises, but a wound, received in a +duel many years ago, had rendered him lame for life--a misfortune which +interfered with his former habits, and was said to have soured his +temper. This personage, whose position and character will be described +hereafter, was Lord Lilburne, the brother of Mrs. Beaufort. + +"So, Camilla," said Lord Lilburne to his niece, as carelessly, not +fondly, he stroked down her glossy ringlets, "you don't like Berkeley +Square as you did Gloucester Place." + +"Oh, no! not half so much! You see I never walk out in the fields, +--[Now the Regent's Park.]--nor make daisy-chains at Primrose Hill. I +don't know what mamma means," added the child, in a whisper, "in saying +we are better off here." + +Lord Lilburne smiled, but the smile was a half sneer. "You will know +quite soon enough, Camilla; the understandings of young ladies grow up +very quickly on this side of Oxford Street. Well, Arthur, and what are +your plans to-day?" + +"Why," said Arthur, suppressing a yawn, "I have promised to ride out with +a friend of mine, to see a horse that is for sale somewhere in the +suburbs." + +As he spoke, Arthur rose, stretched himself, looked in the glass, and +then glanced impatiently at the window. + +"He ought to be here by this time." + +"He! who?" said Lord Lilburne, "the horse or the other animal--I mean +the friend?" + +"The friend," answered Arthur, smiling, but colouring while he smiled, +for he half suspected the quiet sneer of his uncle. + +"Who is your friend, Arthur?" asked Mrs. Beaufort, looking up from her +work. + +"Watson, an Oxford man. By the by, I must introduce him to you." + +"Watson! what Watson? what family of Watson? Some Watsons are good and +some are bad," said Mrs. Beaufort, musingly. + +"Then they are very unlike the rest of mankind," observed Lord Lilburne, +drily. + +"Oh! my Watson is a very gentlemanlike person, I assure you," said +Arthur, half-laughing, "and you need not be ashamed of him." Then, +rather desirous of turning the conversation, he continued, "So my father +will be back from Beaufort Court to-day?" + +"Yes; he writes in excellent spirits. He says the rents will bear +raising at least ten per cent., and that the house will not require much +repair." + +Here Arthur threw open the window. + +"Ah, Watson! how are you? How d'ye do, Marsden? Danvers, too! that's +capital! the more the merrier! I will be down in an instant. But would +you not rather come in?" + +"An agreeable inundation," murmured Lord Lilburne. "Three at a time: he +takes your house for Trinity College." + +A loud, clear voice, however, declined the invitation; the horses were +heard pawing without. Arthur seized his hat and whip, and glanced to his +mother and uncle, smilingly. "Good-bye! I shall be out till dinner. +Kiss me, my pretty Milly!" And as his sister, who had run to the window, +sickening for the fresh air and exercise he was about to enjoy, now +turned to him wistful and mournful eyes, the kind-hearted young man took +her in his arms, and whispered while he kissed her: + +"Get up early to-morrow, and we'll have such a nice walk together." + +Arthur was gone: his mother's gaze had followed his young and graceful +figure to the door. + +"Own that he is handsome, Lilburne. May I not say more:--has he not the +proper air?" + +"My dear sister, your son will be rich. As for his air, he has plenty of +airs, but wants graces." + +"Then who could polish him like yourself?" + +"Probably no one. But had I a son--which Heaven forbid!--he should not +have me for his Mentor. Place a young man--(go and shut the door, +Camilla!)--between two vices--women and gambling, if you want to polish +him into the fashionable smoothness. _Entre nous_, the varnish is a +little expensive!" + +Mrs. Beaufort sighed. Lord Lilburne smiled. He had a strange pleasure +in hurting the feelings of others. Besides, he disliked youth: in his +own youth he had enjoyed so much that he grew sour when he saw the young. + +Meanwhile Arthur Beaufort and his friends, careless of the warmth of the +day, were laughing merrily, and talking gaily, as they made for the +suburb of H----. + +"It is an out-of-the-way place for a horse, too," said Sir Harry Danvers. + +"But I assure you," insisted Mr. Watson, earnestly, that my groom, who is +a capital judge, says it is the cleverest hack he ever mounted. It has +won several trotting matches. It belonged to a sporting tradesman, now +done up. The advertisement caught me." + +"Well," said Arthur, gaily, "at all events the ride is delightful. What +weather! You must all dine with me at Richmond to-morrow--we will row +back." + +"And a little chicken-hazard, at the M---, afterwards," said Mr. Marsden, +who was an elder, not a better, man than the rest--a handsome, saturnine +man--who had just left Oxford, and was already known on the turf. + +"Anything you please," said Arthur, making his horse curvet. + +Oh, Mr. Robert Beaufort! Mr. Robert Beaufort! could your prudent, +scheming, worldly heart but feel what devil's tricks your wealth was +playing with a son who if poor had been the pride of the Beauforts! On +one side of our pieces of old we see the saint trampling down the dragon. +False emblem! Reverse it on the coin! In the real use of the gold, it +is the dragon who tramples down the saint! But on--on! the day is bright +and your companions merry; make the best of your green years, Arthur +Beaufort! + +The young men had just entered the suburb of H---, and were spurring on +four abreast at a canter. At that time an old man, feeling his way +before him with a stick,--for though not quite blind, he saw +imperfectly,--was crossing the road. Arthur and his friends, in loud +converse, did not observe the poor passenger. He stopped abruptly, for +his ear caught the sound of danger--it was too late: Mr. Marsden's horse, +hard-mouthed, and high-stepping, came full against him. Mr. Marsden +looked down: + +"Hang these old men! always in the way," said he, plaintively, and in the +tone of a much-injured person, and, with that, Mr. Marsden rode on. But +the others, who were younger--who were not gamblers--who were not yet +grinded down into stone by the world's wheels--the others halted. Arthur +Beaufort leaped from his horse, and the old man was already in his arms; +but he was severely hurt. The blood trickled from his forehead; he +complained of pains in his side and limbs. + +"Lean on me, my poor fellow! Do you live far off? I will take you home." + +"Not many yards. This would not have happened if I had had my dog. +Never mind, sir, go your way. It is only an old man--what of that? I +wish I had my dog." + +"I will join you," said Arthur to his friends; "my groom has the +direction. I will just take the poor old man home, and send for a +surgeon. I shall not be long." + +"So like you, Beaufort: the best fellow in the world!" said Mr. Watson, +with some emotion. "And there's Marsden positively, dismounted, and +looking at his horse's knees as if they could be hurt! Here's a +sovereign for you, my man." + +"And here's another," said Sir Harry; "so that's settled. Well, you will +join us, Beaufort? You see the yard yonder. We'll wait twenty minutes +for you. Come on, Watson." The old man had not picked up the sovereigns +thrown at his feet, neither had he thanked the donors. And on his +countenance there was a sour, querulous, resentful expression. + +"Must a man be a beggar because he is run over, or because he is half +blind?" said he, turning his dim, wandering eyes painfully towards +Arthur. "Well, I wish I had my dog!" + +"I will supply his place," said Arthur, soothingly. "Come, lean on me-- +heavier; that's right. You are not so bad,--eh?" + +"Um!--the sovereigns!--it is wicked to leave them in the kennel!" + +Arthur smiled. "Here they are, sir." + +The old man slid the coins into his pocket, and Arthur continued to talk, +though he got but short answers, and those only in the way of direction, +till at last the old man stopped at the door of a small house near the +churchyard. + +After twice ringing the bell, the door was opened by a middle-aged woman, +whose appearance was above that of a common menial; dressed, somewhat +gaily for her years, in a cap seated very far back on a black _touroet_, +and decorated with red ribands, an apron made out of an Indian silk +handkerchief, a puce-coloured sarcenet gown, black silk stockings, long +gilt earrings, and a watch at her girdle. + +"Bless us and save us, sir! What has happened?" exclaimed this worthy +personage, holding up her hands. + +"Pish! I am faint: let me in. I don't want your aid any more, sir. +Thank you. Good day!" + +Not discouraged by this farewell, the churlish tone of which fell +harmless on the invincibly sweet temper of Arthur, the young man +continued to assist the sufferer along the narrow passage into a little +old-fashioned parlour; and no sooner was the owner deposited on his worm- +eaten leather chair than he fainted away. On reaching the house, Arthur +had sent his servant (who had followed him with the horses) for the +nearest surgeon; and while the woman was still employed, after taking off +the sufferer's cravat, in burning feathers under his nose, there was +heard a sharp rap and a shrill ring. Arthur opened the door, and +admitted a smart little man in nankeen breeches and gaiters. He bustled +into the room. + +"What's this--bad accident--um--um! Sad thing, very sad. Open the +window. A glass of water--a towel." + +"So--so: I see--I see--no fracture--contusion. Help him off with his +coat. Another chair, ma'am; put up his poor legs. What age is he, +ma'am?--Sixty-eight! Too old to bleed. Thank you. How is it, sir? +Poorly, to be sure will be comfortable presently--faintish still? Soon +put all to rights." + +"Tray! Tray! Where's my dog, Mrs. Boxer?" + +"Lord, sir, what do you want with your dog now? He is in the back-yard." + +"And what business has my dog in the back-yard?" almost screamed the +sufferer, in accents that denoted no diminution of vigour. "I thought as +soon as my back was turned my dog would be ill-used! Why did I go +without my dog? Let in my dog directly, Mrs. Boxer!" + +"All right, you see, sir," said the apothecary, turning to Beaufort-- +"no cause for alarm--very comforting that little passion--does him good-- +sets one's mind easy. How did it happen? Ah, I understand! knocked +down--might have been worse. Your groom (sharp fellow!) explained in a +trice, sir. Thought it was my old friend here by the description. +Worthy man--settled here a many year--very odd-eccentric (this in a +whisper). Came off instantly: just at dinner--cold lamb and salad. +'Mrs. Perkins,' says I, 'if any one calls for me, I shall be at No. 4, +Prospect Place.' Your servant observed the address, sir. Oh, very +sharp fellow! See how the old gentleman takes to his dog--fine little +dog--what a stump of a tail! Deal of practice--expect two accouchements +every hour. Hot weather for childbirth. So says I to Mrs. Perkins, 'If +Mrs. Plummer is taken, or Mrs. Everat, or if old Mr. Grub has another +fit, send off at once to No. 4. Medical men should be always in the way- +that's my maxim. Now, sir, where do you feel the pain?" + +"In my ears, sir." + +"Bless me, that looks bad. How long have you felt it?" + +"Ever since you have been in the room." + +"Oh! I take. Ha! ha!--very eccentric--very!" muttered the apothecary, +a little disconcerted. "Well, let him lie down, ma'am. I'll send him a +little quieting draught to be taken directly--pill at night, aperient in +the morning. If wanted, send for me--always to be found. Bless me, +that's my boy Bob's ring. Please to open the door, ma' am. Know his +ring--very peculiar knack of his own. Lay ten to one it is Mrs. Plummer, +or perhaps. Mrs. Everat--her ninth child in eight years--in the grocery +line. A woman in a thousand, sir!" + +Here a thin boy, with very short coat-sleeves, and very large hands, +burst into the room with his mouth open. "Sir--Mr. Perkins--sir!" + +"I know--I know-coming. Mrs. Plummer or Mrs. Everat?" + +"No, sir; it be the poor lady at Mrs. Lacy's; she be taken desperate. +Mrs. Lacy's girl has just been over to the shop, and made me run here to +you, sir." + +"Mrs. Lacy's! oh, I know. Poor Mrs. Morton! Bad case--very bad--must be +off. Keep him quiet, ma'am. Good day! Look in to-morrow-nine o'clock. +Put a little lint with the lotion on the head, ma'am. Mrs. Morton! Ah! +bad job that." + +Here the apothecary had shuffled himself off to the street door, when +Arthur laid his hand on his arm. + +"Mrs. Morton! Did you say Morton, sir? What kind of a person--is she +very ill?" + +"Hopeless case, sir--general break-up. Nice woman--quite the lady--known +better days, I'm sure." + +"Has she any children--sons?" + +"Two--both away now--fine lads--quite wrapped up in them--youngest +especially." + +"Good heavens! it must be she--ill, and dying, and destitute, perhaps,"-- +exclaimed Arthur, with real and deep feeling; "I will go with you, sir. +I fancy that I know this lady--that," he added generously, "I am related +to her." + +"Do you?--glad to hear it. Come along, then; she ought to have some one +near her besides servants: not but what Jenny, the maid, is uncommonly +kind. Dr. -----, who attends her sometimes, said to me, says he, 'It is +the mind, Mr. Perkins; I wish we could get back her boys." + +"And where are they?" + +"'Prenticed out, I fancy. Master Sidney--" + +"Sidney!" + +"Ah! that was his name--pretty name. D'ye know Sir Sidney Smith?-- +extraordinary man, sir! Master Sidney was a beautiful child--quite +spoiled. She always fancied him ailing--always sending for me. 'Mr. +Perkins,' said she, 'there's something the matter with my child; I'm sure +there is, though he won't own it. He has lost his appetite--had a +headache last night.' 'Nothing the matter, ma'am,' says I; 'wish you'd +think more of yourself.' + +"These mothers are silly, anxious, poor creatures. Nater, sir, Nater-- +wonderful thing--Nater!--Here we are." + +And the apothecary knocked at the private door of a milliner and hosier's +shop. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +"Thy child shall live, and I will see it nourished."--Titus Andronicus. + +As might be expected, the excitement and fatigue of Catherine's journey +to N---- had considerably accelerated the progress of disease. And when +she reached home, and looked round the cheerless rooms all solitary, all +hushed--Sidney gone, gone from her for ever, she felt, indeed, as if the +last reed on which she had leaned was broken, and her business upon earth +was done. Catherine was not condemned to absolute poverty--the poverty +which grinds and gnaws, the poverty of rags and famine. She had still +left nearly half of such portion of the little capital, realised by the +sale of her trinkets, as had escaped the clutch of the law; and her +brother had forced into her hands a note for L20. with an assurance that +the same sum should be paid to her half-yearly. Alas! there was little +chance of her needing it again! She was not, then, in want of means to +procure the common comforts of life. But now a new passion had entered +into her breast--the passion of the miser; she wished to hoard every +sixpence as some little provision for her children. What was the use of +her feeding a lamp nearly extinguished, and which was fated to be soon +broken up and cast amidst the vast lumber-house of Death? She would +willingly have removed into a more homely lodging, but the servant of the +house had been so fond of Sidney--so kind to him. She clung to one +familiar face on which there seemed to live the reflection of her +child's. But she relinquished the first floor for the second; and there, +day by day, she felt her eyes grow heavier and heavier beneath the clouds +of the last sleep. Besides the aid of Mr. Perkins, a kind enough man in +his way, the good physician whom she had before consulted, still attended +her, and refused his fee. Shocked at perceiving that she rejected every +little alleviation of her condition, and wishing at least to procure for +her last hours the society of one of her sons, he had inquired the +address of the elder; and on the day preceding the one in which Arthur +discovered her abode, he despatched to Philip the following letter: + +"SIR:--Being called in to attend your mother in a lingering illness, which +I fear may prove fatal, I think it my duty to request you to come to her +as soon as you receive this. Your presence cannot but be a great comfort +to her. The nature of her illness is such that it is impossible to +calculate exactly how long she may be spared to you; but I am sure her +fate might be prolonged, and her remaining days more happy, if she could +be induced to remove into a better air and a more quiet neighbourhood, to +take more generous sustenance, and, above all, if her mind could be set +more at ease as to your and your brother's prospects. You must pardon me +if I have seemed inquisitive; but I have sought to draw from your mother +some particulars as to her family and connections, with a wish to +represent to them her state of mind. She is, however, very reserved on +these points. If, however, you have relations well to do in the world, I +think some application to them should be made. I fear the state of her +affairs weighs much upon your poor mother's mind; and I must leave you to +judge how far it can be relieved by the good feeling of any persons upon +whom she may have legitimate claims. At all events, I repeat my wish +that you should come to her forthwith. + "I am, &c." + +After the physician had despatched this letter, a sudden and marked +alteration for the worse took place in his patient's disorder; and in the +visit he had paid that morning, he saw cause to fear that her hours on +earth would be much fewer than he had before anticipated. He had left +her, however, comparatively better; but two hours after his departure, +the symptoms of her disease had become very alarming, and the good- +natured servant girl, her sole nurse, and who had, moreover, the whole +business of the other lodgers to attend to, had, as we have seen, thought +it necessary to summon the apothecary in the interval that must elapse +before she could reach the distant part of the metropolis in which Dr. +---- resided. + +On entering the chamber, Arthur felt all the remorse, which of right +belonged to his father, press heavily on his soul. What a contrast, that +mean and solitary chamber, and its comfortless appurtenances, to the +graceful and luxurious abode where, full of health and hope, he had last +beheld her, the mother of Philip Beaufort's children! He remained silent +till Mr. Perkins, after a few questions, retired to send his drugs. He +then approached the bed; Catherine, though very weak and suffering much +pain, was still sensible. She turned her dim eyes on the young man; but +she did not recognise his features. + +"You do not remember me?" said he, in a voice struggling with tears: "I +am Arthur--Arthur Beaufort." Catherine made no answer. + +"Good Heavens! Why do I see you here? I believed you with your friends +--your children provided for--as became my father to do. He assured me +that you were so." Still no answer. + +And then the young man, overpowered with the feelings of a sympathising +and generous nature, forgetting for a while Catherine's weakness, poured +forth a torrent of inquiries, regrets, and self-upbraidings, which +Catherine at first little heeded. But the name of her children, repeated +again and again, struck upon that chord which, in a woman's heart, is the +last to break; and she raised herself in her bed, and looked at her +visitor wistfully. + +"Your father," she said, then--"your father was unlike my Philip; but I +see things differently now. For me, all bounty is too late; but my +children--to-morrow they may have no mother. The law is with you, but +not justice! You will be rich and powerful;--will you befriend my +children?" + +"Through life, so help me Heaven!" exclaimed Arthur, falling on his +knees beside the bed. + +What then passed between them it is needless to detail; for it was +little, save broken repetitions of the same prayer and the same response. +But there was so much truth and earnestness in Arthur's voice and +countenance, that Catherine felt as if an angel had come there to +administer comfort. And when late in the day the physician entered, he +found his patient leaning on the breast of her young visitor, and looking +on his face with a happy smile. + +The physician gathered enough from the appearance of Arthur and the +gossip of Mr. Perkins, to conjecture that one of the rich relations he +had attributed to Catherine was arrived. Alas! for her it was now indeed +too late! + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + "D'ye stand amazed?--Look o'er thy head, Maximinian! + Look to the terror which overhangs thee." + BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER: _The Prophetess_. + +Phillip had been five weeks in his new home: in another week, he was to +enter on his articles of apprenticeship. With a stern, unbending gloom +of manner, he had commenced the duties of his novitiate. He submitted to +all that was enjoined him. He seemed to have lost for ever the wild and +unruly waywardness that had stamped his boyhood; but he was never seen to +smile--he scarcely ever opened his lips. His very soul seemed to have +quitted him with its faults; and he performed all the functions of his +situation with the quiet listless regularity of a machine. Only when the +work was done and the shop closed, instead of joining the family circle +in the back parlour, he would stroll out in the dusk of the evening, away +from the town, and not return till the hour at which the family retired +to rest. Punctual in all he did, he never exceeded that hour. He had +heard once a week from his mother; and only on the mornings in which he +expected a letter, did he seem restless and agitated. Till the postman +entered the shop, he was as pale as death--his hands trembling--his lips +compressed. When he read the letter he became composed for Catherine +sedulously concealed from her son the state of her health: she wrote +cheerfully, besought him to content himself with the state into which he +had fallen, and expressed her joy that in his letters he intimated that +content; for the poor boy's letters were not less considerate than her +own. On her return from her brother, she had so far silenced or +concealed her misgivings as to express satisfaction at the home she had +provided for Sidney; and she even held out hopes of some future when, +their probation finished and their independence secured, she might reside +with her sons alternately. These hopes redoubled Philip's assiduity, and +he saved every shilling of his weekly stipend; and sighed as he thought +that in another week his term of apprenticeship would commence, and the +stipend cease. + +Mr. Plaskwith could not but be pleased on the whole with the diligence of +his assistant, but he was chafed and irritated by the sullenness of his +manner. As for Mrs. Plaskwith, poor woman! she positively detested the +taciturn and moody boy, who never mingled in the jokes of the circle, nor +played with the children, nor complimented her, nor added, in short, +anything to the sociability of the house. Mr. Plimmins, who had at first +sought to condescend, next sought to bully; but the gaunt frame and +savage eye of Philip awed the smirk youth, in spite of himself; and he +confessed to Mrs. Plaskwith that he should not like to meet "the gipsy," +alone, on a dark night; to which Mrs. Plaskwith replied, as usual, "that +Mr. Plimmins always did say the best things in the world!" + +One morning, Philip was sent a few miles into the country, to assist in +cataloguing some books in the library of Sir Thomas Champerdown--that +gentleman, who was a scholar, having requested that some one acquainted +with the Greek character might be sent to him, and Philip being the only +one in the shop who possessed such knowledge. + +It was evening before he returned. Mr. and Mrs. Plaskwith were both in +the shop as he entered--in fact, they had been employed in talking him +over. + +"I can't abide him!" cried Mrs. Plaskwith. "If you choose to take him +for good, I sha'n't have an easy moment. I'm sure the 'prentice that +cut his master's throat at Chatham, last week, was just like him." + +"Pshaw! Mrs. P.," said the bookseller, taking a huge pinch of snuff, as +usual, from his waistcoat pocket. "I myself was reserved when I was +young; all reflective people are. I may observe, by the by, that it was +the case with Napoleon Buonaparte: still, however, I must own he is a +disagreeable youth, though he attends to his business." + +"And how fond of money he is!" remarked Mrs. Plaskwith, "he won't buy +himself a new pair of shoes!--quite disgraceful! And did you see what a +look he gave Plimmins, when he joked about his indifference to his sole? +Plimmins always does say such good things!" + +"He is shabby, certainly," said the bookseller; "but the value of a book +does not always depend on the binding." + +"I hope he is honest!" observed Mrs. Plaskwith;--and here Philip +entered. + +"Hum," said Mr. Plaskwith; "you have had a long day's work: but I suppose +it will take a week to finish?" + +"I am to go again to-morrow morning, sir: two days more will conclude the +task." + +"There's a letter for you," cried Mrs. Plaskwith; "you owes me for it." + +"A letter!" It was not his mother's hand--it was a strange writing--he +gasped for breath as he broke the seal. It was the letter of the +physician. + +His mother, then, was ill-dying-wanting, perhaps, the necessaries of +life. She would have concealed from him her illness and her poverty. +His quick alarm exaggerated the last into utter want;--he uttered a cry +that rang through the shop, and rushed to Mr. Plaskwith. + +"Sir, sir! my mother is dying! She is poor, poor, perhaps starving;-- +money, money!--lend me money!--ten pounds!--five!--I will work for you +all my life for nothing, but lend me the money!" + +"Hoity-toity!" said Mrs. Plaskwith, nudging her husband--"I told you +what would come of it: it will be 'money or life' next time." + +Philip did not heed or hear this address; but stood immediately before +the bookseller, his hands clasped--wild impatience in his eyes. Mr. +Plaskwith, somewhat stupefied, remained silent. + +"Do you hear me?--are you human?" exclaimed Philip, his emotion +revealing at once all the fire of his character. "I tell you my mother +is dying; I must go to her! Shall I go empty-handed! Give me money!" + +Mr. Plaskwith was not a bad-hearted man; but he was a formal man, and an +irritable one. The tone his shopboy (for so he considered Philip) +assumed to him, before his own wife too (examples are very dangerous), +rather exasperated than moved him. + +"That's not the way to speak to your master:--you forget yourself, young +man!" + +"Forget!--But, sir, if she has not necessaries-if she is starving?" + +"Fudge!" said Plaskwith. "Mr. Morton writes me word that he has provided +for your mother! Does he not, Hannah?" + +"More fool he, I'm sure, with such a fine family of his own! Don't look +at me in that way, young man; I won't take it--that I won't! I declare +my blood friz to see you!" + +"Will you advance me money?--five pounds--only five pounds, Mr. +Plaskwith?" + +"Not five shillings! Talk to me in this style!--not the man for it, +sir!--highly improper. Come, shut up the shop, and recollect yourself; +and, perhaps, when Sir Thomas's library is done, I may let you go to +town. You can't go to-morrow. All a sham, perhaps; eh, Hannah?" + +"Very likely! Consult Plimmins. Better come away now, Mr. P. He looks +like a young tiger." + +Mrs. Plaskwith quitted the shop for the parlour. Her husband, putting +his hands behind his back, and throwing back his chin, was about to +follow her. Philip, who had remained for the last moment mute and white +as stone, turned abruptly; and his grief taking rather the tone of rage +than supplication, he threw himself before his master, and, laying his +hand on his shoulder, said: + +"I leave you--do not let it be with a curse. I conjure you, have mercy +on me!" + +Mr. Plaskwith stopped; and had Philip then taken but a milder tone, all +had been well. But, accustomed from childhood to command--all his fierce +passions loose within him--despising the very man he thus implored--the +boy ruined his own cause. Indignant at the silence of Mr. Plaskwith, and +too blinded by his emotions to see that in that silence there was +relenting, he suddenly shook the little man with a vehemence that almost +overset him, and cried: + +"You, who demand for five years my bones and blood--my body and soul--a +slave to your vile trade--do you deny me bread for a mother's lips?" + +Trembling with anger, and perhaps fear, Mr. Plaskwith extricated himself +from the gripe of Philip, and, hurrying from the shop, said, as he banged +the door: + +"Beg my pardon for this to-night, or out you go to-morrow, neck and crop! +Zounds! a pretty pass the world's come to! I don't believe a word about +your mother. Baugh!" + +Left alone, Philip remained for some moments struggling with his wrath +and agony. He then seized his hat, which he had thrown off on entering-- +pressed it over his brows--turned to quit the shop--when his eye fell +upon the till. Plaskwith had left it open, and the gleam of the coin +struck his gaze--that deadly smile of the arch tempter. Intellect, +reason, conscience--all, in that instant, were confusion and chaos. He +cast a hurried glance round the solitary and darkening room--plunged his +hand into the drawer, clutched he knew not what--silver or gold, as it +came uppermost--and burst into a loud and bitter laugh. The laugh itself +startled him--it did not sound like his own. His face fell, and his +knees knocked together--his hair bristled--he felt as if the very fiend +had uttered that yell of joy over a fallen soul. + +"No--no--no!" he muttered; "no, my mother,--not even for thee!" And, +dashing the money to the ground, he fled, like a maniac, from the house. + +At a later hour that same evening, Mr. Robert Beaufort returned from his +country mansion to Berkeley Square. He found his wife very uneasy and +nervous about the non-appearance of their only son. Arthur had sent home +his groom and horses about seven o'clock, with a hurried scroll, written +in pencil on a blank page torn from his pocket-book, and containing only +these words,-- + +"Don't wait dinner for me--I may not be home for some hours. I have met +with a melancholy adventure. You will approve what I have done when we +meet." + +This note a little perplexed Mr. Beaufort; but, as he was very hungry, he +turned a deaf ear both to his wife's conjectures and his own surmises, +till he had refreshed himself; and then he sent for the groom, and +learned that, after the accident to the blind man, Mr. Arthur had been +left at a hosier's in H----. This seemed to him extremely mysterious; +and, as hour after hour passed away, and still Arthur came not, he began +to imbibe his wife's fears, which were now wound up almost to hysterics; +and just at midnight he ordered his carriage, and taking with him the +groom as a guide, set off to the suburban region. Mrs. Beaufort had +wished to accompany him; but the husband observing that young men would +be young men, and that there might possibly be a lady in the case, Mrs. +Beaufort, after a pause of thought, passively agreed that, all things +considered, she had better remain at home. No lady of proper decorum +likes to run the risk of finding herself in a false position. Mr. +Beaufort accordingly set out alone. Easy was the carriage--swift were +the steeds--and luxuriously the wealthy man was whirled along. Not a +suspicion of the true cause of Arthur's detention crossed him; but he +thought of the snares of London--or artful females in distress; "a +melancholy adventure" generally implies love for the adventure, and money +for the melancholy; and Arthur was young--generous--with a heart and a +pocket equally open to imposition. Such scrapes, however, do not terrify +a father when he is a man of the world, so much as they do an anxious +mother; and, with more curiosity than alarm, Mr. Beaufort, after a short +doze, found himself before the shop indicated. + +Notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, the door to the private +entrance was ajar,--a circumstance which seemed very suspicious to Mr. +Beaufort. He pushed it open with caution and timidity--a candle placed +upon a chair in the narrow passage threw a sickly light over the flight +of stairs, till swallowed up by the deep shadow from the sharp angle made +by the ascent. Robert Beaufort stood a moment in some doubt whether to +call, to knock, to recede, or to advance, when a step was heard upon the +stairs above--it came nearer and nearer--a figure emerged from the shadow +of the last landing-place, and Mr. Beaufort, to his great joy, recognised +his son. + +Arthur did not, however, seem to perceive his father; and was about to +pass him, when Mr. Beaufort laid his hand on his arm. + +"What means all this, Arthur? What place are you in? How you have +alarmed us!" + +Arthur cast a look upon his father of sadness and reproach. + +"Father," he said, in a tone that sounded stern--almost commanding--"I +will show you where I have been; follow me--nay, I say, follow." + +He turned, without another word re-ascended the stairs; and Mr. Beaufort, +surprised and awed into mechanical obedience, did as his son desired. At +the landing-place of the second floor, another long-wicked, neglected, +ghastly candle emitted its cheerless ray. It gleamed through the open +door of a small bedroom to the left, through which Beaufort perceived the +forms of two women. One (it was the kindly maidservant) was seated on a +chair, and weeping bitterly; the other (it was a hireling nurse, in the +first and last day of her attendance) was unpinning her dingy shawl +before she lay down to take a nap. She turned her vacant, listless face +upon the two men, put on a doleful smile, and decently closed the door. + +"Where are we, I say, Arthur?" repeated Mr. Beaufort. Arthur took his +father's hand-drew him into a room to the right--and taking up the +candle, placed it on a small table beside a bell, and said, "Here, sir-- +in the presence of Death!" + +Mr. Beaufort cast a hurried and fearful glance on the still, wan, serene +face beneath his eyes, and recognised in that glance the features of the +neglected and the once adored Catherine. + +"Yes--she, whom your brother so loved--the mother of his children--died +in this squalid room, and far from her sons, in poverty, in sorrow! died +of a broken heart! Was that well, father? Have you in this nothing to +repent?" + +Conscience-stricken and appalled, the worldly man sank down on a seat +beside the bed, and covered his face with his hands. + +"Ay," continued Arthur, almost bitterly--"ay, we, his nearest of kin--we, +who have inherited his lands and gold--we have been thus heedless of the +great legacy your brother bequeathed to us:--the things dearest to him-- +the woman he loved--the children his death cast, nameless and branded, on +the world. Ay, weep, father: and while you weep, think of the future, of +reparation. I have sworn to that clay to befriend her sons; join you, +who have all the power to fulfil the promise--join in that vow: and may +Heaven not visit on us both the woes of this bed of death!" + +"I did not know--I--I--" faltered Mr. Beaufort. + +"But we should have known," interrupted Arthur, mournfully. "Ah, my dear +father! do not harden your heart by false excuses. The dead still speaks +to you, and commends to your care her children. My task here is done: O +sir! yours is to come. I leave you alone with the dead." + +So saying, the young man, whom the tragedy of the scene had worked into a +passion and a dignity above his usual character, unwilling to trust +himself farther to his emotions, turned abruptly from the room, fled +rapidly down the stairs and left the house. As the carriage and liveries +of his father met his eye, he groaned; for their evidences of comfort and +wealth seemed a mockery to the deceased: he averted his face and walked +on. Nor did he heed or even perceive a form that at that instant rushed +by him--pale, haggard, breathless--towards the house which he had +quitted, and the door of which he left open, as he had found it--open, as +the physician had left it when hurrying, ten minutes before the arrival +of Mr. Beaufort, from the spot where his skill was impotent. Wrapped in +gloomy thought, alone, and on foot-at that dreary hour, and in that +remote suburb--the heir of the Beauforts sought his splendid home. +Anxious, fearful, hoping, the outcast orphan flew on to the death-room +of his mother. + +Mr. Beaufort, who had but imperfectly heard Arthur's parting accents, +lost and bewildered by the strangeness of his situation, did not at first +perceive that he was left alone. Surprised, and chilled by the sudden +silence of the chamber, he rose, withdrew his hands from his face, and +again he saw that countenance so mute and solemn. He cast his gaze round +the dismal room for Arthur; he called his name--no answer came; a +superstitious tremor seized upon him; his limbs shook; he sank once more +on his seat, and closed his eyes: muttering, for the first time, perhaps, +since his childhood, words of penitence and prayer. He was roused +from this bitter self-abstraction by a deep groan. It seemed to come +from the bed. Did his ears deceive him? Had the dead found a voice? He +started up in an agony of dread, and saw opposite to him the livid +countenance of Philip Morton: the Son of the Corpse had replaced the Son +of the Living Man! The dim and solitary light fell upon that +countenance. There, all the bloom and freshness natural to youth seemed +blasted! There, on those wasted features, played all the terrible power +and glare of precocious passions,--rage, woe, scorn, despair. Terrible +is it to see upon the face of a boy the storm and whirlwind that should +visit only the strong heart of man! + +"She is dead!--dead! and in your presence!" shouted Philip, with his +wild eyes fixed upon the cowering uncle; "dead with--care, perhaps with +famine. And you have come to look upon your work!" + +"Indeed," said Beaufort, deprecatingly, "I have but just arrived: I did +not know she had been ill, or in want, upon my honour. This is all a--a +--mistake: I--I--came in search of--of--another--" + +"You did not, then, come to relieve her?" said Philip, very calmly. +"You had not learned her suffering and distress, and flown hither in the +hope that there was yet time to save her? You did not do this? Ha! ha! +--why did I think it?" + +"Did any one call, gentlemen?" said a whining voice at the door; and the +nurse put in her head. + +"Yes--yes--you may come in," said Beaufort, shaking with nameless and +cowardly apprehension; but Philip had flown to the door, and, gazing on +the nurse, said, + +"She is a stranger! see, a stranger! The son now has assumed his post. +Begone, woman!" And he pushed her away, and drew the bolt across the +door. + +And then there looked upon him, as there had looked upon his reluctant +companion, calm and holy, the face of the peaceful corpse. He burst into +tears, and fell on his knees so close to Beaufort that he touched him; he +took up the heavy hand, and covered it with burning kisses. + +"Mother! mother! do not leave me! wake, smile once more on your son! +I would have brought you money, but I could not have asked for your +blessing, then; mother, I ask it now!" + +"If I had but known--if you had but written to me, my dear young +gentleman--but my offers had been refused, and--" + +"Offers of a hireling's pittance to her; to her for whom my father would +have coined his heart's blood into gold! My father's wife!--his wife!-- +offers--" + +He rose suddenly, folded his arms, and facing Beaufort, with a fierce +determined brow, said: + +"Mark me, you hold the wealth that I was trained from my cradle to +consider my heritage. I have worked with these hands for bread, and +never complained, except to my own heart and soul. I never hated, and +never cursed you--robber as you were--yes, robber! For, even were there +no marriage save in the sight of God, neither my father, nor Nature, nor +Heaven, meant that you should seize all, and that there should be nothing +due to the claims of affection and blood. He was not the less my father, +even if the Church spoke not on my side. Despoiler of the orphan, and +derider of human love, you are not the less a robber though the law +fences you round, and men call you honest! But I did not hate you for +this. Now, in the presence of my dead mother--dead, far from both her +sons--now I abhor and curse you. You may think yourself safe when you +quit this room-safe, and from my hatred you may be so but do not deceive +yourself. The curse of the widow and the orphan shall pursue--it shall +cling to you and yours--it shall gnaw your heart in the midst of +splendour--it shall cleave to the heritage of your son! There shall be a +deathbed yet, beside which you shall see the spectre of her, now so calm, +rising for retribution from the grave! These words--no, you never shall +forget them--years hence they shall ring in your ears, and freeze the +marrow of your bones! And now begone, my father's brother--begone from +my mother's corpse to your luxurious home!" + +He opened the door, and pointed to the stairs. Beaufort, without a word, +turned from the room and departed. He heard the door closed and locked +as he descended the stairs; but he did not hear the deep groans and +vehement sobs in which the desolate orphan gave vent to the anguish which +succeeded to the less sacred paroxysm of revenge and wrath. + + + + + + + +BOOK II. + + +CHAPTER I. + + "Incubo. Look to the cavalier. What ails he? + . . . . . + Hostess. And in such good clothes, too!" + BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER: _Love's Pilgrimage_. + + "Theod. I have a brother--there my last hope!. + Thus as you find me, without fear or wisdom, + I now am only child of Hope and Danger."--Ibid. + +The time employed by Mr. Beaufort in reaching his home was haunted by +gloomy and confused terrors. He felt inexplicably as if the +denunciations of Philip were to visit less himself than his son. He +trembled at the thought of Arthur meeting this strange, wild, exasperated +scatterling--perhaps on the morrow--in the very height of his passions. +And yet, after the scene between Arthur and himself, he saw cause to fear +that he might not be able to exercise a sufficient authority over his +son, however naturally facile and obedient, to prevent his return to the +house of death. In this dilemma he resolved, as is usual with cleverer +men, even when yoked to yet feebler helpmates, to hear if his wife had +anything comforting or sensible to say upon the subject. Accordingly, on +reaching Berkeley Square, he went straight to Mrs. Beaufort; and having +relieved her mind as to Arthur's safety, related the scene in which he +had been so unwilling an actor. With that more lively susceptibility +which belongs to most women, however comparatively unfeeling, Mrs. +Beaufort made greater allowance than her husband for the excitement +Philip had betrayed. Still Beaufort's description of the dark menaces, +the fierce countenance, the brigand-like form, of the bereaved son, gave +her very considerable apprehensions for Arthur, should the young men +meet; and she willingly coincided with her husband in the propriety of +using all means of parental persuasion or command to guard against such +an encounter. But, in the meanwhile, Arthur returned not, and new fears +seized the anxious parents. He had gone forth alone, in a remote suburb +of the metropolis, at a late hour, himself under strong excitement. He +might have returned to the house, or have lost his way amidst some dark +haunts of violence and crime; they knew not where to send, or what to +suggest. Day already began to dawn, and still he came not. A length, +towards five o'clock, a loud rap was heard at the door, and Mr. Beaufort, +hearing some bustle in the hall, descended. He saw his son borne into +the hall from a hackney-coach by two strangers, pale, bleeding, and +apparently insensible. His first thought was that he had been murdered +by Philip. He uttered a feeble cry, and sank down beside his son. + +"Don't be darnted, sir," said one of the strangers, who seemed an +artisan; "I don't think he be much hurt. You sees he was crossing the +street, and the coach ran against him; but it did not go over his head; +it be only the stones that makes him bleed so: and that's a mercy." + +"A providence, sir," said the other man; "but Providence watches over us +all, night and day, sleep or wake. Hem! We were passing at the time +from the meeting--the Odd Fellows, sir--and so we took him, and got him a +coach; for we found his card in his pocket. He could not speak just +then; but the rattling of the coach did him a deal of good, for he +groaned--my eyes! how he groaned! did he not, Burrows?" + +"It did one's heart good to hear him." + +"Run for Astley Cooper--you--go to Brodie. Good Heavens! he is dying. +Be quick--quick!" cried Mr. Beaufort to his servants, while Mrs. +Beaufort, who had now gained the spot, with greater presence of mind had +Arthur conveyed into a room. + +"It is a judgment upon me," groaned Beaufort, rooted to the stone of his +hall, and left alone with the strangers. "No, sir, it is not a judgment, +it is a providence," said the more sanctimonious and better dressed of +the two men "for, put the question, if it had been a judgment, the wheel +would have gone over him--but it didn't; and, whether he dies or not, I +shall always say that if that's not a providence, I don't know what is. +We have come a long way, sir; and Burrows is a poor man, though I'm well +to do." + +This hint for money restored Beaufort to his recollection; he put his +purse into the nearest hand outstretched to clutch it, and muttered forth +something like thanks. + +"Sir, may the Lord bless you! and I hope the young gentleman will do +well. I am sure you have cause to be thankful that he was within an inch +of the wheel; was he not, Burrows? Well, it's enough to convert a +heathen. But the ways of Providence are mysterious, and that's the truth +of it. Good night, sir." + +Certainly it did seem as if the curse of Philip was already at its work. +An accident almost similar to that which, in the adventure of the blind +man, had led Arthur to the clue of Catherine, within twenty-four hours +stretched Arthur himself upon his bed. The sorrow Mr. Beaufort had not +relieved was now at his own hearth. But there were parents and nurses, +and great physicians, and skilful surgeons, and all the army that combine +against Death, and there were ease, and luxury, and kind eyes, and pitying +looks, and all that can take the sting from pain. And thus, the very +night on which Catherine had died, broken down, and worn out, upon a +strange breast, with a feeless doctor, and by the ray of a single candle, +the heir to the fortunes once destined to her son wrestled also with the +grim Tyrant, who seemed, however, scared from his prey by the arts and +luxuries which the world of rich men raises up in defiance of the grave. + +Arthur, was, indeed, very seriously injured; one of his ribs was broken, +and he had received two severe contusions on the head. To insensibility +succeeded fever, followed by delirium. He was in imminent danger for +several days. If anything could console his parents for such an +affliction, it was the thought that, at least, he was saved from the +chance of meeting Philip. + +Mr. Beaufort, in the instinct of that capricious and fluctuating +conscience which belongs to weak minds, which remains still, and +drooping, and lifeless, as a flag on a masthead during the calm of +prosperity, but flutters, and flaps, and tosses when the wind blows and +the wave heaves, thought very acutely and remorsefully of the condition +of the Mortons, during the danger of his own son. So far, indeed, from +his anxiety for Arthur monopolising all his care, it only sharpened his +charity towards the orphans; for many a man becomes devout and good when +he fancies he has an Immediate interest in appeasing Providence. The +morning after Arthur's accident, he sent for Mr. Blackwell. He +commissioned him to see that Catherine's funeral rites were performed +with all due care and attention; he bade him obtain an interview with +Philip, and assure the youth of Mr. Beaufort's good and friendly +disposition towards him, and to offer to forward his views in any course +of education he might prefer, or any profession he might adopt; and he +earnestly counselled the lawyer to employ all his tact and delicacy in +conferring with one of so proud and fiery a temper. Mr. Blackwell, +however, had no tact or delicacy to employ: he went to the house of +mourning, forced his way to Philip, and the very exordium of his +harangue, which was devoted to praises of the extraordinary generosity +and benevolence of his employer, mingled with condescending admonitions +towards gratitude from Philip, so exasperated the boy, that Mr. Blackwell +was extremely glad to get out of the house with a whole skin. He, +however, did not neglect the more formal part of his mission; but +communicated immediately with a fashionable undertaker, and gave orders +for a very genteel funeral. He thought after the funeral that Philip +would be in a less excited state of mind, and more likely to hear reason; +he, therefore, deferred a second interview with the orphan till after +that event; and, in the meanwhile, despatched a letter to Mr. Beaufort, +stating that he had attended to his instructions; that the orders for the +funeral were given; but that at present Mr. Philip Morton's mind was a +little disordered, and that he could not calmly discuss the plans for the +future suggested by Mr. Beaufort. He did not doubt, however, that in +another interview all would be arranged according to the wishes his +client had so nobly conveyed to him. Mr. Beaufort's conscience on this +point was therefore set at rest. It was a dull, close, oppressive +morning, upon which the remains of Catherine Morton were consigned to the +grave. With the preparations for the funeral Philip did not interfere; +he did not inquire by whose orders all that solemnity of mutes, and +coaches, and black plumes, and crape bands, was appointed. If his vague +and undeveloped conjecture ascribed this last and vain attention to +Robert Beaufort, it neither lessened the sullen resentment he felt +against his uncle, nor, on the other hand, did he conceive that he had a +right to forbid respect to the dead, though he might reject service for +the survivor. Since Mr. Blackwell's visit, he had remained in a sort of +apathy or torpor, which seemed to the people of the house to partake +rather of indifference than woe. + +The funeral was over, and Philip had returned to the apartments occupied +by the deceased; and now, for the first time, he set himself to examine +what papers, &c., she had left behind. In an old escritoire, he found, +first, various packets of letters in his father's handwriting, the +characters in many of them faded by time. He opened a few; they were the +earliest love-letters. He did not dare to read above a few lines; so +much did their living tenderness, and breathing, frank, hearty passion, +contrast with the fate of the adored one. In those letters, the very +heart of the writer seemed to beat! Now both hearts alike were stilled! +And GHOST called vainly unto GHOST! + +He came, at length, to a letter in his mother's hand, addressed to +himself, and dated two days before her death. He went to the window and +gasped in the mists of the sultry air for breath. Below were heard the +noises of London; the shrill cries of itinerant vendors, the rolling +carts, the whoop of boys returned for a while from school. Amidst all +these rose one loud, merry peal of laughter, which drew his attention +mechanically to the spot whence it came; it was at the threshold of a +public-house, before which stood the hearse that had conveyed his +mother's coffin, and the gay undertakers, halting there to refresh +themselves. He closed the window with a groan, retired to the farthest +corner of the room, and read as follows: + +"MY DEAREST PHILIP,--When you read this, I shall be no more. You and +poor Sidney will have neither father nor mother, nor fortune, nor name. +Heaven is more just than man, and in Heaven is my hope for you. You, +Philip, are already past childhood; your nature is one formed, I think, +to wrestle successfully with the world. Guard against your own passions, +and you may bid defiance to the obstacles that will beset your path in +life. And lately, in our reverses, Philip, you have so subdued those +passions, so schooled the pride and impetuosity of your childhood, that I +have contemplated your prospects with less fear than I used to do, even +when they seemed so brilliant. Forgive me, my dear child, if I have +concealed from you my state of health, and if my death be a sudden and +unlooked-for shock. Do not grieve for me too long. For myself, my +release is indeed escape from the prison-house and the chain--from bodily +pain and mental torture, which may, I fondly hope, prove some expiation +for the errors of a happier time. For I did err, when, even from the +least selfish motives, I suffered my union with your father to remain +concealed, and thus ruined the hopes of those who had rights upon me +equal even to his. But, O Philip! beware of the first false steps into +deceit; beware, too, of the passions, which do not betray their fruit +till years and years after the leaves that look so green and the blossoms +that seem so fair. + +"I repeat my solemn injunction--Do not grieve for me; but strengthen your +mind and heart to receive the charge that I now confide to you--my +Sidney, my child, your brother! He is so soft, so gentle, he has been so +dependent for very life upon me, and we are parted now for the first and +last time. He is with strangers; and--and--O Philip, Philip! watch over +him for the love you bear, not only to him, but to me! Be to him a +father as well as a brother. Put your stout heart against the world, so +that you may screen him, the weak child, from its malice. He has not +your talents nor strength of character; without you he is nothing. Live, +toil, rise for his sake not less than your own. If you knew how this +heart beats as I write to you, if you could conceive what comfort I take +for _him_ from my confidence in you, you would feel a new spirit--my +spirit--my mother-spirit of love, and forethought, and vigilance, enter +into you while you read. See him when I am gone--comfort and soothe him. +Happily he is too young yet to know all his loss; and do not let him +think unkindly of me in the days to come, for he is a child now, and they +may poison his mind against me more easily than they can yours. Think, +if he is unhappy hereafter, he may forget how I loved him, he may curse +those who gave him birth. Forgive me all this, Philip, my son, and heed +it well. + +"And now, where you find this letter, you will see a key; it opens a well +in the bureau in which I have hoarded my little savings. You will see +that I have not died in poverty. Take what there is; young as you are, +you may want it more now than hereafter. But hold it in trust for your +brother as well as yourself. If he is harshly treated (and you will go +and see him, and you will remember that he would writhe under what you +might scarcely feel), or if they overtask him (he is so young to work), +yet it may find him a home near you. God watch over and guard you both! +You are orphans now. But HE has told even the orphans to call him +'Father!'" + +When he had read this letter, Philip Morton fell upon his knees, and +prayed. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + "His curse! Dost comprehend what that word means? + Shot from a father's angry breath." + JAMES SHIRLEY: _The Brothers_. + + "This term is fatal, and affrights me."--Ibid. + + "Those fond philosophers that magnify + Our human nature . . . . . . + Conversed but little with the world-they knew not + The fierce vexation of community!"--Ibid. + +After he had recovered his self-possession, Philip opened the well of the +bureau, and was astonished and affected to find that Catherine had saved +more than L100. Alas! how much must she have pinched herself to have +hoarded this little treasure! After burning his father's love-letters, +and some other papers, which he deemed useless, he made up a little +bundle of those trifling effects belonging to the deceased, which he +valued as memorials and relies of her, quitted the apartment, and +descended to the parlour behind the shop. On the way he met with the +kind servant, and recalling the grief that she had manifested for his +mother since he had been in the house, he placed two sovereigns in her +hand. "And now," said he, as the servant wept while be spoke, "now I can +bear to ask you what I have not before done. How did my poor mother die? +Did she suffer much?--or--or--" + +"She went off like a lamb, sir," said the girl, drying her eyes. "You +see the gentleman had been with her all the day, and she was much more +easy and comfortable in her mind after he came." + +"The gentleman! Not the gentleman I found here?" + +"Oh, dear no! Not the pale middle-aged gentleman nurse and I saw go down +as the clock struck two. But the young, soft-spoken gentleman who came +in the morning, and said as how he was a relation. He stayed with her +till she slept; and, when she woke, she smiled in his face--I shall never +forget that smile--for I was standing on the other side, as it might be +here, and the doctor was by the window, pouring out the doctor's stuff in +the glass; and so she looked on the young gentleman, and then looked +round at us all, and shook her head very gently, but did not speak. And +the gentleman asked her how she felt, and she took both his hands and +kissed them; and then he put his arms round and raised her up to take the +physic like, and she said then, 'You will never forget them?' and he +said, 'Never.' I don't know what that meant, sir!" + +"Well, well--go on." + +"And her head fell back on his buzzom, and she looked so happy; and, when +the doctor came to the bedside, she was quite gone." + +"And the stranger had my post! No matter; God bless him--God bless him. +Who was he? what was his name?" + +"I don't know, sir; he did not say. He stayed after the doctor went, and +cried very bitterly; he took on more than you did, sir." + +"And the other gentleman came just as he was a-going, and they did not +seem to like each other; for I heard him through the wall, as nurse and I +were in the next room, speak as if he was scolding; but he did not stay +long." + +"And has never been seen since?" + +"No, sir. Perhaps missus can tell you more about him. But won't you +take something, sir? Do--you look so pale." + +Philip, without speaking, pushed her gently aside, and went slowly down +the stairs. He entered the parlour, where two or three children were +seated, playing at dominoes; he despatched one for their mother, the +mistress of the shop, who came in, and dropped him a courtesy, with a +very grave, sad face, as was proper. + +"I am going to leave your house, ma'am; and I wish to settle any little +arrears of rent, &c." + +"O sir! don't mention it," said the landlady; and, as she spoke, she +took a piece of paper from her bosom, very neatly folded, and laid it on +the table. "And here, sir," she added, taking from the same depository a +card,--"here is the card left by the gentleman who saw to the funeral. +He called half an hour ago, and bade me say, with his compliments, that +he would wait on you to-morrow at eleven o'clock. So I hope you won't go +yet: for I think he means to settle everything for you; he said as much, +sir." + +Philip glanced over the card, and read, "Mr. George Blackwell, Lincoln's +Inn." His brow grew dark--he let the card fall on the ground, put his +foot on it with a quiet scorn, and muttered to himself, "The lawyer shall +not bribe me out of my curse!" He turned to the total of the bill--not +heavy, for poor Catherine had regularly defrayed the expense of her +scanty maintenance and humble lodging--paid the money, and, as the +landlady wrote the receipt, he asked, "Who was the gentleman--the younger +gentleman--who called in the morning of the day my mother died?" + +"Oh, sir! I am so sorry I did not get his name. Mr. Perkins said that +he was some relation. Very odd he has never been since. But he'll be +sure to call again, sir; you had much better stay here." + +"No: it does not signify. All that he could do is done. But stay, give +him this note, if she should call." + +Philip, taking the pen from the landlady's hand, hastily wrote (while +Mrs. Lacy went to bring him sealing-wax and a light) these words: + +"I cannot guess who you are: they say that you call yourself a relation; +that must be some mistake. I knew not that my poor mother had relations +so kind. But, whoever you be, you soothed her last hours--she died in +your arms; and if ever--years, long years hence--we should chance to +meet, and I can do anything to aid another, my blood, and my life, and my +heart, and my soul, all are slaves to your will. If you be really of her +kindred, I commend to you my brother: he is at ----, with Mr. Morton. +If you can serve him, my mother's soul will watch over you as a guardian +angel. As for me, I ask no help from any one: I go into the world and +will carve out my own way. So much do I shrink from the thought of +charity from others, that I do not believe I could bless you as I do now +if your kindness to me did not close with the stone upon my mother's +grave. PHILIP." + +He sealed this letter, and gave it to the woman. + +"Oh, by the by," said she, "I had forgot; the Doctor said that if you +would send for him, he would be most happy to call on you, and give you +any advice." + +"Very well." + +"And what shall I say to Mr. Blackwell?" + +"That he may tell his employer to remember our last interview." + +With that Philip took up his bundle and strode from the house. He went +first to the churchyard, where his mother's remains had been that day +interred. It was near at hand, a quiet, almost a rural, spot. The gate +stood ajar, for there was a public path through the churchyard, and +Philip entered with a noiseless tread. It was then near evening; the sun +had broken out from the mists of the earlier day, and the wistering rays +shone bright and holy upon the solemn place. + +"Mother! mother!" sobbed the orphan, as he fell prostrate before that +fresh green mound: "here--here I have come to repeat my oath, to swear +again that I will be faithful to the charge you have entrusted to your +wretched son! And at this hour I dare ask if there be on this earth one +more miserable and forlorn?" + +As words to this effect struggled from his lips, a loud, shrill voice-- +the cracked, painful voice of weak age wrestling with strong passion, +rose close at hand. + +"Away, reprobate! thou art accursed!" + +Philip started, and shuddered as if the words were addressed to himself, +and from the grave. But, as he rose on his knee, and tossing the wild +hair from his eyes, looked confusedly round, he saw, at a short distance, +and in the shadow of the wall, two forms; the one, an old man with grey +hair, who was seated on a crumbling wooden tomb, facing the setting sun; +the other, a man apparently yet in the vigour of life, who appeared bent +as in humble supplication. The old man's hands were outstretched over +the head of the younger, as if suiting terrible action to the terrible +words, and, after a moment's pause--a moment, but it seemed far longer to +Philip--there was heard a deep, wild, ghastly howl from a dog that +cowered at the old man's feet; a howl, perhaps of fear at the passion of +his master, which the animal might associate with danger. + +"Father! father!" said the suppliant reproachfully, "your very dog +rebukes your curse." + +"Be dumb! My dog! What hast thou left me on earth but him? Thou hast +made me loathe the sight of friends, for thou hast made me loathe mine +own name. Thou hast covered it with disgrace,--thou hast turned mine old +age into a by-word,--thy crimes leave me solitary in the midst of my +shame!" + +"It is many years since we met, father; we may never meet again--shall we +part thus?" + +"Thus, aha!" said the old man in a tone of withering sarcasm! "I +comprehend,--you are come for money!" + +At this taunt the son started as if stung by a serpent; raised his head +to its full height, folded his arms, and replied: + +"Sir, you wrong me: for more than twenty years I have maintained myself-- +no matter how, but without taxing you;--and now, I felt remorse for +having suffered you to discard me,--now, when you are old and helpless, +and, I heard, blind: and you might want aid, even from your poor good- +for-nothing son. But I have done. Forget,--not my sins, but this +interview. Repeal your curse, father; I have enough on my head without +yours; and so--let the son at least bless the father who curses him. +Farewell!" + +The speaker turned as he thus said, with a voice that trembled at the +close, and brushed rapidly by Philip, whom he did not, however, appear to +perceive; but Philip, by the last red beam of the sun, saw again that +marked storm-beaten face which it was difficult, once seen, to forget, +and recognised the stranger on whose breast be had slept the night of his +fatal visit to R----. + +The old man's imperfect vision did not detect the departure of his son, +but his face changed and softened as the latter strode silently through +the rank grass. + +"William!" he said at last, gently; "William!" and the tears rolled down +his furrowed cheeks; "my son!" but that son was gone--the old man +listened for reply--none came. "He has left me--poor William!--we shall +never meet again;" and he sank once more on the old tombstone, dumb, +rigid, motionless--an image of Time himself in his own domain of Graves. +The dog crept closer to his master, and licked his hand. Philip stood +for a moment in thoughtful silence: his exclamation of despair had been +answered as by his better angel. There was a being more miserable than +himself; and the Accursed would have envied the Bereaved! + +The twilight had closed in; the earliest star--the star of Memory and +Love, the Hesperus hymned by every poet since the world began--was fair +in the arch of heaven, as Philip quitted the spot, with a spirit more +reconciled to the future, more softened, chastened, attuned to gentle and +pious thoughts than perhaps ever yet had made his soul dominant over the +deep and dark tide of his gloomy passions. He went thence to a +neighbouring sculptor, and paid beforehand for a plain tablet to be +placed above the grave he had left. He had just quitted that shop, in +the same street, not many doors removed from the house in which his +mother had breathed her last. He was pausing by a crossing, irresolute +whether to repair at once to the home assigned to Sidney, or to seek some +shelter in town for that night, when three men who were on the opposite +side of the way suddenly caught sight of him. + +"There he is--there he is! Stop, sir!--stop!" + +Philip heard these words, looked up, and recognised the voice and the +person of Mr. Plaskwith; the bookseller was accompanied by Mr. Plimmins, +and a sturdy, ill-favoured stranger. + +A nameless feeling of fear, rage, and disgust seized the unhappy boy, and +at the same moment a ragged vagabond whispered to him, "Stump it, my +cove; that's a Bow Street runner." + +Then there shot through Philip's mind the recollection of the money he +had seized, though but to dash away; was he now--he, still to his own +conviction, the heir of an ancient and spotless name--to be hunted as a +thief; or, at the best, what right over his person and his liberty had he +given to his taskmaster? Ignorant of the law--the law only seemed to +him, as it ever does to the ignorant and the friendless--a Foe. Quicker +than lightning these thoughts, which it takes so many words to describe, +flashed through the storm and darkness of his breast; and at the very +instant that Mr. Plimmins had laid hands on his shoulder his resolution +was formed. The instinct of self beat loud at his heart. With a bound-- +a spring that sent Mr. Plimmins sprawling in the kennel, he darted across +the road, and fled down an opposite lane. + +"Stop him! stop!" cried the bookseller, and the officer rushed after +him with almost equal speed. Lane after lane, alley after alley, fled +Philip; dodging, winding, breathless, panting; and lane after lane, and +alley after alley, thickened at his heels the crowd that pursued. The +idle and the curious, and the officious,--ragged boys, ragged men, from +stall and from cellar, from corner and from crossing, joined in that +delicious chase, which runs down young Error till it sinks, too often, at +the door of the gaol or the foot of the gallows. But Philip slackened +not his pace; he began to distance his pursuers. He was now in a street +which they had not yet entered--a quiet street, with few, if any, shops. +Before the threshold of a better kind of public-house, or rather tavern, +to judge by its appearance, lounged two men; and while Philip flew on, +the cry of "Stop him!" had changed as the shout passed to new voices, +into "Stop the thief!"--that cry yet howled in the distance. One of the +loungers seized him: Philip, desperate and ferocious, struck at him with +all his force; but the blow was scarcely felt by that Herculean frame. + +"Pish!" said the man, scornfully; "I am no spy; if you run from justice, +I would help you to a sign-post." + +Struck by the voice, Philip looked hard at the speaker. It was the voice +of the Accursed Son. + +"Save me! you remember me?" said the orphan, faintly. "Ah! I think I +do; poor lad! Follow me-this way!" The stranger turned within the +tavern, passed the hall through a sort of corridor that led into a back +yard which opened upon a nest of courts or passages. + +"You are safe for the present; I will take you where you can tell me all +at your ease--See!" As he spoke they emerged into an open street, and +the guide pointed to a row of hackney coaches. "Be quick--get in. +Coachman, drive fast to ---" + +Philip did not hear the rest of the direction. + +Our story returns to Sidney. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + "Nous vous mettrons a couvert, + Repondit le pot de fer + Si quelque matiere dure + Vous menace d'aventure, + Entre deux je passerai, + Et du coup vous sauverai. + . . . . . . . . + Le pot de terre en souffre!"--LA FONTAINE. + + ["We, replied the Iron Pot, will shield you: should any hard + substance menace you with danger, I'll intervene, and save you + from the shock. + . . . . . . . . . The Earthen Pot was the sufferer!] + +"SIDNEY, come here, sir! What have you been at? you have torn your +frill into tatters! How did you do this? Come sir, no lies." + +"Indeed, ma'am, it was not my fault. I just put my head out of the +window to see the coach go by, and a nail caught me here." + +"Why, you little plague! you have scratched yourself--you are always in +mischief. What business had you to look after the coach?" + +"I don't know," said Sidney, hanging his head ruefully. "La, mother!" +cried the youngest of the cousins, a square-built, ruddy, coarse-featured +urchin, about Sidney's age, "La, mother, he never see a coach in the +street when we are at play but he runs arter it." + +"After, not arter," said Mr. Roger Morton, taking the pipe from his +mouth. + +"Why do you go after the coaches, Sidney?" said Mrs. Morton; "it is very +naughty; you will be run over some day." + +"Yes, ma'am," said Sidney, who during the whole colloquy had been +trembling from bead to foot. + +"'Yes ma'am,' and 'no, ma'am:' you have no more manners than a cobbler's +boy." + +"Don't tease the child, my dear; he is crying," said Mr. Morton, more +authoritatively than usual. "Come here, my man!" and the worthy uncle +took him in his lap and held his glass of brandy-and-water to his lips; +Sidney, too frightened to refuse, sipped hurriedly, keeping his large +eyes fixed on his aunt, as children do when they fear a cuff. + +"You spoil the boy more than do your own flesh and blood," said Mrs. +Morton, greatly displeased. + +Here Tom, the youngest-born before described, put his mouth to his +mother's ear, and whispered loud enough to be heard by all: "He runs +arter the coach 'cause he thinks his ma may be in it. Who's home-sick, I +should like to know? Ba! Baa!" + +The boy pointed his finger over his mother's shoulder, and the other +children burst into a loud giggle. + +"Leave the room, all of you,--leave the room!" said Mr. Morton, rising +angrily and stamping his foot. + +The children, who were in great awe of their father, huddled and hustled +each other to the door; but Tom, who went last, bold in his mother's +favour, popped his head through the doorway, and cried, "Good-bye, little +home-sick!" + +A sudden slap in the face from his father changed his chuckle into a very +different kind of music, and a loud indignant sob was heard without for +some moments after the door was closed. + +"If that's the way you behave to your children, Mr. Morton, I vow you +sha'n't have any more if I can help it. Don't come near me--don't touch +me!" and Mrs. Morton assumed the resentful air of offended beauty. + +"Pshaw!" growled the spouse, and he reseated himself and resumed his +pipe. There was a dead silence. Sidney crouched near his uncle, looking +very pale. Mrs. Morton, who was knitting, knitted away with the excited +energy of nervous irritation. + +"Ring the bell, Sidney," said Mr. Morton. The boy obeyed-the parlour- +maid entered. "Take Master Sidney to his room; keep the boys away from +him, and give him a large slice of bread and jam, Martha." + +"Jam, indeed!--treacle," said Mrs. Morton. + +"Jam, Martha," repeated the uncle, authoritatively. "Treacle!" +reiterated the aunt. + +"Jam, I say!" + +"Treacle, you hear: and for that matter, Martha has no jam to give!" + +The husband had nothing more to say. + +"Good night, Sidney; there's a good boy, go and kiss your aunt and make +your bow; and I say, my lad, don't mind those plagues. I'll talk to them +to-morrow, that I will; no one shall be unkind to you in my house." + +Sidney muttered something, and went timidly up to Mrs. Morton. His look +so gentle and subdued; his eyes full of tears; his pretty mouth which, +though silent, pleaded so eloquently; his willingness to forgive, and his +wish to be forgiven, might have melted many a heart harder, perhaps, than +Mrs. Morton's. But there reigned what are worse than hardness,-- +prejudice and wounded vanity--maternal vanity. His contrast to her own +rough, coarse children grated on her, and set the teeth of her mind on +edge. + +"There, child, don't tread on my gown: you are so awkward: say your +prayers, and don't throw off the counterpane! I don't like slovenly +boys." + +Sidney put his finger in his mouth, drooped, and vanished. + +"Now, Mrs. M.," said Mr. Morton, abruptly, and knocking out the ashes of +his pipe; "now Mrs. M., one word for all: I have told you that I promised +poor Catherine to be a father to that child, and it goes to my heart to +see him so snubbed. Why you dislike him I can't guess for the life of +me. I never saw a sweeter-tempered child." + +"Go on, sir, go on: make your personal reflections on your own lawful +wife. They don't hurt me--oh no, not at all! Sweet-tempered, indeed; I +suppose your own children are not sweet-tempered?" + +"That's neither here nor there," said Mr. Morton: "my own children are +such as God made them, and I am very well satisfied." + +"Indeed you may be proud of such a family; and to think of the pains I +have taken with them, and how I have saved you in nurses, and the bad +times I have had; and now, to find their noses put out of joint by that +little mischief-making interloper--it is too bad of you, Mr. Morton; you +will break my heart--that you will!" + +Mrs. Morton put her handkerchief to her eyes and sobbed. The husband was +moved: he got up and attempted to take her hand. "Indeed, Margaret, I +did not mean to vex you." + +"And I who have been such a fa--fai--faithful wi--wi--wife, and brought you +such a deal of mon--mon--money, and always stud--stud--studied your +interests; many's the time when you have been fast asleep that I have sat +up half the night--men--men--mending the house linen; and you have not +been the same man, Roger, since that boy came!" + +"Well, well" said the good man, quite overcome, and fairly taking her +round the waist and kissing her; "no words between us; it makes life +quite unpleasant. If it pains you to have Sidney here, I will put him +to some school in the town, where they'll be kind to him. Only, if you +would, Margaret, for my sake--old girl! come, now! there's a darling!-- +just be more tender with him. You see he frets so after his mother. +Think how little Tom would fret if he was away from you! Poor little +Tom!" + +"La! Mr. Morton, you are such a man!--there's no resisting your ways! +You know how to come over me, don't you?" + +And Mrs. Morton smiled benignly, as she escaped from his conjugal arms +and smoothed her cap. + +Peace thus restored, Mr. Morton refilled his pipe, and the good lady, +after a pause, resumed, in a very mild, conciliatory tone: + +"I'll tell you what it is, Roger, that vexes me with that there child. +He is so deceitful, and he does tell such fibs!" + +"Fibs! that is a very bad fault," said Mr. Morton, gravely. "That must +be corrected." + +"It was but the other day that I saw him break a pane of glass in the +shop; and when I taxed him with it, he denied it;--and with such a face! +I can't abide storytelling." + +"Let me know the next story he tells; I'll cure him," said Mr. Morton, +sternly. "You now how I broke Tom of it. Spare the rod, and spoil the +child. And where I promised to be kind to the boy, of course I did not +mean that I was not to take care of his morals, and see that he grew up +an honest man. Tell truth and shame the devil--that's my motto." + +"Spoke like yourself, Roger," said Mrs. Morton, with great animation. +"But you see he has not had the advantage of such a father as you. I +wonder your sister don't write to you. Some people make a great fuss +about their feelings; but out of sight out of mind." + +"I hope she is not ill. Poor Catherine! she looked in a very bad way +when she was here," said Morton; and he turned uneasily to the fireplace +and sighed. + +Here the servant entered with the supper-tray, and the conversation fell +upon other topics. + +Mrs. Roger Morton's charge against Sidney was, alas! too true. He had +acquired, under that roof, a terrible habit of telling stories. He had +never incurred that vice with his mother, because then and there he had +nothing to fear; now, he had everything to fear;--the grim aunt--even the +quiet, kind, cold, austere uncle--the apprentices--the strange servants-- +and, oh! more than all, those hardeyed, loud-laughing tormentors, the +boys of his own age! Naturally timid, severity made him actually a +coward; and when the nerves tremble, a lie sounds as surely as, when I +vibrate that wire, the bell at the end of it will ring. Beware of the +man who has been roughly treated as a child. + +The day after the conference just narrated, Mr. Morton, who was subject +to erysipelas, had taken a little cooling medicine. He breakfasted, +therefore, later than usual--after the rest of the family; and at this +meal _pour lui soulager_ he ordered the luxury of a muffin. Now it so +chanced that he had only finished half the muffin, and drunk one cup of +tea, when he was called into the shop by a customer of great importance-- +a prosy old lady, who always gave her orders with remarkable precision, +and who valued herself on a character for affability, which she +maintained by never buying a penny riband without asking the shopman how +all his family were, and talking news about every other family in the +place. At the time Mr. Morton left the parlour, Sidney and Master Tom +were therein, seated on two stools, and casting up division sums on their +respective slates--a point of education to which Mr. Morton attended with +great care. As soon as his father's back was turned, Master Tom's eyes +wandered from the slate to the muffin, as it leered at him from the slop- +basin. Never did Pythian sibyl, seated above the bubbling spring, utter +more oracular eloquence to her priest, than did that muffin--at least the +parts of it yet extant--utter to the fascinated senses of Master Tom. +First he sighed; then he moved round on his stool; then he got up; then +he peered at the muffin from a respectful distance; then he gradually +approached, and walked round, and round, and round it--his eyes getting +bigger and bigger; then he peeped through the glass-door into the shop, +and saw his father busily engaged with the old lady; then he began to +calculate and philosophise, perhaps his father had done breakfast; +perhaps he would not come back at all; if he came back, he would not miss +one corner of the muffin; and if he did miss it, why should Tom be +supposed to have taken it? As he thus communed with himself, he drew +nearer into the fatal vortex, and at last with a desperate plunge, he +seized the triangular temptation,-- + + "And ere a man had power to say 'Behold!' + The jaws of Thomas had devoured it up." + +Sidney, disturbed from his studies by the agitation of his companion, +witnessed this proceeding with great and conscientious alarm. "O Tom!" +said he, "what will your papa say?" + +"Look at that!" said Tom, putting his fist under Sidney's reluctant +nose. "If father misses it, you'll say the cat took it. If you don't-- +my eye, what a wapping I'll give you!" + +Here Mr. Morton's voice was heard wishing the lady "Good morning!" and +Master Tom, thinking it better to leave the credit of the invention +solely to Sidney, whispered, "Say I'm gone up stairs for my pocket- +hanker," and hastily absconded. + +Mr. Morton, already in a very bad humour, partly at the effects of the +cooling medicine, partly at the suspension of his breakfast, stalked into +the parlour. His tea-the second cup already poured out, was cold. He +turned towards the muffin, and missed the lost piece at a glance. + +"Who has been at my muffin?" said he, in a voice that seemed to Sidney +like the voice he had always supposed an ogre to possess. "Have you, +Master Sidney?" + +"N--n--no, sir; indeed, sir!" + +"Then Tom has. Where is he?" + +"Gone up stairs for his handkerchief, sir." + +"Did he take my muffin? Speak the truth!" + +"No, sir; it was the--it was the--the cat, sir!" + +"O you wicked, wicked boy!" cried Mrs. Morton, who had followed her +husband into the parlour; "the cat kittened last night, and is locked up +in the coal-cellar!" + +"Come here, Master Sidney! No! first go down, Margaret, and see if the +cat is in the cellar: it might have got out, Mrs. M.," said Mr. Morton, +just even in his wrath. + +Mrs. Morton went, and there was a dead silence, except indeed in Sidney's +heart, which beat louder than a clock ticks. Mr. Morton, meanwhile, went +to a little cupboard;--while still there, Mrs. Morton returned: the cat +was in the cellar--the key turned on her--in no mood to eat muffins, poor +thing!--she would not even lap her milk! like her mistress, she had had a +very bad time! + +"Now come here, sir," said Mr. Morton, withdrawing himself from the +cupboard, with a small horsewhip in his hand, "I will teach you how to +speak the truth in future! Confess that you have told a lie!" + +"Yes, sir, it was a lie! Pray--pray forgive me: but Tom made me!" + +"What! when poor Tom is up-stairs? worse and worse!" said Mrs. Morton, +lifting up her hands and eyes. "What a viper!" + +"For shame, boy,--for shame! Take that--and that--and that--" + +Writhing--shrinking, still more terrified than hurt, the poor child +cowered beneath the lash. + +"Mamma! mamma!" he cried at last, "Oh, why--why did you leave me?" + +At these words Mr. Morton stayed his hand, the whip fell to the ground. + +"Yet it is all for the boy's good," he muttered. "There, child, I hope +this is the last time. There, you are not much hurt. Zounds, don't cry +so!" + +"He will alarm the whole street," said Mrs. Morton; "I never see such a +child! Here, take this parcel to Mrs. Birnie's--you know the house--only +next street, and dry your eyes before you get there. Don't go through +the shop; this way out." + +She pushed the child, still sobbing with a vehemence that she could not +comprehend, through the private passage into the street, and returned to +her husband. + +"You are convinced now, Mr. M.?" + +"Pshaw! ma'am; don't talk. But, to be sure, that's how I cured Tom of +fibbing.--The tea's as cold as a stone!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + "Le bien nous le faisons: le mal c'est la Fortune. + On a toujours raison, le Destin toujours tort."--LA FONTAINE. + + [The Good, we effect ourselves; the Evil is the handiwork of + Fortune. Mortals are always in the right, Destiny always in the + wrong.] + +Upon the early morning of the day commemorated by the historical events +of our last chapter, two men were deposited by a branch coach at the inn +of a hamlet about ten miles distant from the town in which Mr. Roger +Morton resided. Though the hamlet was small, the inn was large, for it +was placed close by a huge finger-post that pointed to three great roads: +one led to the town before mentioned; another to the heart of a +manufacturing district; and a third to a populous seaport. The weather +was fine, and the two travellers ordered breakfast to be taken into an +arbour in the garden, as well as the basins and towels necessary for +ablution. The elder of the travellers appeared to be unequivocally +foreign; you would have guessed him at once for a German. He wore, what +was then very uncommon in this country, a loose, brown linen _blouse_, +buttoned to the chin, with a leathern belt, into which were stuck a +German meerschaum and a tobacco-pouch. He had very long flaxen hair, +false or real, that streamed half-way down his back, large light +mustaches, and a rough, sunburnt complexion, which made the fairness of +the hair more remarkable. He wore an enormous pair of green spectacles, +and complained much in broken English of the weakness of his eyes. All +about him, even to the smallest minutiae, indicated the German; not only +the large muscular frame, the broad feet, and vast though well-shaped +hands, but the brooch--evidently purchased of a Jew in some great fair-- +stuck ostentatiously and superfluously into his stock; the quaint, droll- +looking carpet-bag, which he refused to trust to the boots; and the +great, massive, dingy ring which he wore on his forefinger. The other +was a slender, remarkably upright and sinewy youth, in a blue frock, over +which was thrown a large cloak, a travelling cap, with a shade that +concealed all of the upper part of his face, except a dark quick eye of +uncommon fire; and a shawl handkerchief, which was equally useful in +concealing the lower part of the countenance. On descending from the +coach, the German with some difficulty made the ostler understand that he +wanted a post-chaise in a quarter of an hour; and then, without entering +the house, he and his friend strolled to the arbour. While the maid- +servant was covering the table with bread, butter, tea, eggs, and a huge +round of beef, the German was busy in washing his hands, and talking in +his national tongue to the young man, who returned no answer. But as +soon as the servant had completed her operations the foreigner turned +round, and observing her eyes fixed on his brooch with much female +admiration, he made one stride to her. + +"Der Teufel, my goot Madchen--but you are von var pretty--vat you call +it?" and he gave her, as he spoke, so hearty a smack that the girl was +more flustered than flattered by the courtesy. + +"Keep yourself to yourself, sir!" said she, very tartly, for +chambermaids never like to be kissed by a middle-aged gentleman when a +younger one is by: whereupon the German replied by a pinch,--it is +immaterial to state the exact spot to which that delicate caress was +directed. But this last offence was so inexpiable, that the "Madchen" +bounced off with a face of scarlet, and a "Sir, you are no gentleman-- +that's what you arn't!" The German thrust his head out of the arbour, +and followed her with a loud laugh; then drawing himself in again, he +said in quite another accent, and in excellent English, "There, Master +Philip, we have got rid of the girl for the rest of the morning, and +that's exactly what I wanted to do--women's wits are confoundedly sharp. +Well, did I not tell you right, we have baffled all the bloodhounds!" + +"And here, then, Gawtrey, we are to part," said Philip, mournfully. + +"I wish you would think better of it, my boy," returned Mr. Gawtrey, +breaking an egg; "how can you shift for yourself--no kith nor kin, not +even that important machine for giving advice called a friend--no, not a +friend, when I am gone? I foresee how it must end. [D--- it, salt +butter, by Jove!]" + +"If I were alone in the world, as I have told you again and again, +perhaps I might pin my fate to yours. But my brother!" + +"There it is, always wrong when we act from our feelings. My whole life, +which some day or other I will tell you, proves that. Your brother--bah! +is he not very well off with his own uncle and aunt?--plenty to eat and +drink, I dare say. Come, man, you must be as hungry as a hawk--a slice +of the beef? Let well alone, and shift for yourself. What good can you +do your brother?" + +"I don't know, but I must see him; I have sworn it." + +"Well, go and see him, and then strike across the country to me. I will +wait a day for you,--there now!" + +"But tell me first," said Philip, very earnestly, and fixing his dark +eyes on his companion,--"tell me--yes, I must speak frankly--tell me, you +who would link my fortunes with your own,--tell me, what and who are +you?" + +Gawtrey looked up. + +"What do you suppose?" said he, dryly. + +"I fear to suppose anything, lest I wrong you; but the strange place to +which you took me the evening on which you saved me from pursuit, the +persons I met there--" + +"Well-dressed, and very civil to you?" + +"True! but with a certain wild looseness in their talk that--But I have +no right to judge others by mere appearance. Nor is it this that has +made me anxious, and, if you will, suspicious." + +"What then?" + +"Your dress-your disguise." + +"Disguised yourself!--ha! ha! Behold the world's charity! You fly from +some danger, some pursuit, disguised--you, who hold yourself guiltless--I +do the same, and you hold me criminal--a robber, perhaps-a murderer it +may be! I will tell you what I am: I am a son of Fortune, an adventurer; +I live by my wits--so do poets and lawyers, and all the charlatans of the +world; I am a charlatan--a chameleon. 'Each man in his time plays many +parts:' I play any part in which Money, the Arch-Manager, promises me a +livelihood. Are you satisfied?" + +"Perhaps," answered the boy, sadly, "when I know more of the world, I +shall understand you better. Strange--strange, that you, out of all men, +should have been kind to me in distress!" + +"Not at all strange. Ask the beggar whom he gets the most pence from-- +the fine lady in her carriage--the beau smelling of eau de Cologne? +Pish! the people nearest to being beggars themselves keep the beggar +alive. You were friendless, and the man who has all earth for a foe +befriends you. It is the way of the world, sir,--the way of the world. +Come, eat while you can; this time next year you may have no beef to your +bread." + +Thus masticating and moralising at the same time, Mr. Gawtrey at last +finished a breakfast that would have astonished the whole Corporation of +London; and then taking out a large old watch, with an enamelled back-- +doubtless more German than its master--he said, as he lifted up his +carpet-bag, "I must be off--tempos fugit, and I must arrive just in time +to nick the vessels. Shall get to Ostend, or Rotterdam, safe and snug; +thence to Paris. How my pretty Fan will have grown! Ah, you don't know +Fan--make you a nice little wife one of these days! Cheer up, man, we +shall meet again. Be sure of it; and hark ye, that strange place, as you +call it, where I took you,--you can find it again?" + +"Not I." + +"Here, then, is the address. Whenever you want me, go there, ask to see +Mr. Gregg--old fellow with one eye, you recollect--shake him by the hand +just so--you catch the trick--practise it again. No, the forefinger +thus, that's right. Say 'blater,' no more--'blater;'--stay, I will write +it down for you; and then ask for William Gawtrey's direction. He will +give it you at once, without questions--these signs understood; and if +you want money for your passage, he will give you that also, with advice +into the bargain. Always a warm welcome with me. And so take care of +yourself, and good-bye. I see my chaise is at the door." + +As he spoke, Gawtrey shook the young man's hand with cordial vigour, and +strode off to his chaise, muttering, "Money well laid out--fee money; I +shall have him, and, Gad, I like him,--poor devil!" + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + "He is a cunning coachman that can turn well in a narrow room." + Old Play: from Lamb's _Specimens_. + + "Here are two pilgrims, + And neither knows one footstep of the way." + HEYWOOD's Duchess of Suffolk, Ibid. + +The chaise had scarce driven from the inn-door when a coach stopped to +change horses on its last stage to the town to which Philip was, bound. +The name of the destination, in gilt letters on the coach-door, caught +his eye, as he walked from the arbour towards the road, and in a few +moments he was seated as the fourth passenger in the "Nelson Slow and +Sure." From under the shade of his cap, he darted that quick, quiet +glance, which a man who hunts, or is hunted,--in other words, who +observes, or shuns,--soon acquires. At his left hand sat a young woman +in a cloak lined with yellow; she had taken off her bonnet and pinned it +to the roof of the coach, and looked fresh and pretty in a silk +handkerchief, which she had tied round her head, probably to serve as a +nightcap during the drowsy length of the journey. Opposite to her was a +middle-aged man of pale complexion, and a grave, pensive, studious +expression of face; and vis-a-vis to Philip sat an overdressed, showy, +very good-looking man of about two or three and forty. This gentleman +wore auburn whiskers, which met at the chin; a foraging cap, with a gold +tassel; a velvet waistcoat, across which, in various folds, hung a golden +chain, at the end of which dangled an eye-glass, that from time to time +he screwed, as it were, into his right eye; he wore, also, a blue silk +stock, with a frill much crumpled, dirty kid gloves, and over his lap lay +a cloak lined with red silk. As Philip glanced towards this personage, +the latter fixed his glass also at him, with a scrutinising stare, which +drew fire from Philip's dark eyes. The man dropped his glass, and said +in a half provincial, half haw-haw tone, like the stage exquisite of a +minor theatre, "Pawdon me, and split legs!" therewith stretching himself +between Philip's limbs in the approved fashion of inside passengers. A +young man in a white great-coat now came to the door with a glass of warm +sherry and water. + +"You must take this--you must now; it will keep the cold out," (the day +was broiling,) said he to the young woman. + +"Gracious me!" was the answer, "but I never drink wine of a morning, +James; it will get into my head." + +"To oblige me!" said the young man, sentimentally; whereupon the young +lady took the glass, and looking very kindly at her Ganymede, said, "Your +health!" and sipped, and made a wry face--then she looked at the +passengers, tittered, and said, "I can't bear wine!" and so, very slowly +and daintily, sipped up the rest. A silent and expressive squeeze of the +hand, on returning the glass, rewarded the young man, and proved the +salutary effect of his prescription. + +"All right!" cried the coachman: the ostler twitched the cloths from the +leaders, and away went the "Nelson Slow and Sure," with as much +pretension as if it had meant to do the ten miles in an hour. The pale +gentleman took from his waistcoat pocket a little box containing gum- +arabic, and having inserted a couple of morsels between his lips, he next +drew forth a little thin volume, which from the manner the lines were +printed was evidently devoted to poetry. + +The smart gentleman, who since the episode of the sherry and water had +kept his glass fixed upon the young lady, now said, with a genteel smirk: + +"That young gentleman seems very auttentive, miss!" + +"He is a very good young man, sir, and takes great care of me." + +"Not your brother, miss,--eh?" + +"La, sir--why not?" + +"No faumily likeness--noice-looking fellow enough! But your oiyes and +mouth--ah, miss!" + +Miss turned away her head, and uttered with pert vivacity: "I never likes +compliments, sir! But the young man is not my brother." + +"A sweetheart,--eh? Oh fie, miss! Haw! haw!" and the auburn-whiskered +Adonis poked Philip in the knee with one hand, and the pale gentleman in +the ribs with the other. The latter looked up, and reproachfully; the +former drew in his legs, and uttered an angry ejaculation. + +"Well, sir, there is no harm in a sweetheart, is there?" "None in the +least, ma'am; I advoise you to double the dose. We often hear of two +strings to a bow. Daun't you think it would be noicer to have two beaux +to your string?" As he thus wittily expressed himself, the gentleman +took off his cap, and thrust his fingers through a very curling and +comely head of hair; the young lady looked at him with evident coquetry, +and said, "How you do run on, you gentlemen!" + +"I may well run on, miss, as long as I run aufter you," was the gallant +reply. + +Here the pale gentleman, evidently annoyed by being talked across, shut +his book up, and looked round. His eye rested on Philip, who, whether +from the heat of the day or from the forgetfulness of thought, had pushed +his cap from his brows; and the gentleman, after staring at him for a few +moments with great earnestness, sighed so heavily that it attracted the +notice of all the passengers. + +"Are you unwell, sir?" asked the young lady, compassionately. + +"A little pain in my side, nothing more!" + +"Chaunge places with me, sir," cried the Lothario, officiously. "Now +do!" The pale gentleman, after a short hesitation, and a bashful excuse, +accepted the proposal. In a few moments the young lady and the beau were +in deep and whispered conversation, their heads turned towards the +window. The pale gentleman continued to gaze at Philip, till the latter, +perceiving the notice he excited, coloured, and replaced his cap over his +face. + +"Are you going to N----? asked the gentleman, in a gentle, timid voice. + +"Yes!" + +"Is it the first time you have ever been there?" + +"Sir!" returned Philip, in a voice that spoke surprise and distaste at +his neighbour's curiosity. + +"Forgive me," said the gentleman, shrinking back; "but you remind me of- +of--a family I once knew in the town. Do you know--the--the Mortons?" + +One in Philip's situation, with, as he supposed, the officers of justice +in his track (for Gawtrey, for reasons of his own, rather encouraged than +allayed his fears), might well be suspicious. He replied therefore +shortly, "I am quite a stranger to the town," and ensconced himself in +the corner, as if to take a nap. Alas! that answer was one of the many +obstacles he was doomed to build up between himself and a fairer fate. + +The gentleman sighed again, and never spoke more to the end of the +journey. When the coach halted at the inn,--the same inn which had +before given its shelter to poor Catherine,--the young man in the white +coat opened the door, and offered his arm to the young lady. + +"Do you make any stay here, sir?" said she to the beau, as she unpinned +her bonnet from the roof. + +"Perhaps so; I am waiting for my phe-a-ton, which my faellow is to bring +down,--tauking a little tour." + +"We shall be very happy to see you, sir!" said the young lady, on whom +the phe-a-ton completed the effect produced by the gentleman's previous +gallantries; and with that she dropped into his hand a very neat card, on +which was printed, "Wavers and Snow, Staymakers, High Street." + +The beau put the card gracefully into his pocket-leaped from the coach- +nudged aside his rival of the white coat, and offered his arm to the +lady, who leaned on it affectionately as she descended. + +"This gentleman has been so perlite to me, James," said she. James +touched his hat; the beau clapped him on the shoulder,--"Ah! you are not +a hauppy man,--are you? Oh no, not at all a hauppy man!--Good day to +you! Guard, that hat-box is mine!" + +While Philip was paying the coachman, the beau passed, and whispered +him-- + +"Recollect old Gregg--anything on the lay here--don't spoil my sport if +we meet!" and bustled off into the inn, whistling "God save the king!" + +Philip started, then tried to bring to mind the faces which he had seen +at the "strange place," and thought he recalled the features of his +fellow-traveller. However, he did not seek to renew the acquaintance, +but inquired the way to Mr. Morton's house, and thither he now proceeded. + +He was directed, as a short cut, down one of those narrow passages at the +entrance of which posts are placed as an indication that they are +appropriated solely to foot-passengers. A dead white wall, which +screened the garden of the physician of the place, ran on one side; a +high fence to a nursery-ground was on the other; the passage was lonely, +for it was now the hour when few persons walk either for business or +pleasure in a provincial town, and no sound was heard save the fall of +his own step on the broad flagstones. At the end of the passage in the +main street to which it led, he saw already the large, smart, showy shop, +with the hot sum shining full on the gilt letters that conveyed to the +eyes of the customer the respectable name of "Morton,"--when suddenly the +silence was broken by choked and painful sobs. He turned, and beneath a +_compo portico_, jutting from the wall, which adorned the physician's door, +he saw a child seated on the stone steps weeping bitterly--a thrill shot +through Philip's heart! Did he recognise, disguised as it was by pain +and sorrow, that voice? He paused, and laid his hand on the child's +shoulder: "Oh, don't--don't--pray don't--I am going, I am indeed:" cried +the child, quailing, and still keeping his hands clasped before his face. + +"Sidney!" said Philip. The boy started to his feet, uttered a cry of +rapturous joy, and fell upon his brother's breast. + +"O Philip!--dear, dear Philip! you are come to take me away back to my +own--own mamma; I will be so good, I will never tease her again,--never, +never! I have been so wretched!" + +"Sit down, and tell me what they have done to you," said Philip, checking +the rising heart that heaved at his mother's name. + +So, there they sat, on the cold stone under the stranger's porch, these +two orphans: Philip's arms round his brother's waist, Sidney leaning on +his shoulder, and imparting to him--perhaps with pardonable exaggeration, +all the sufferings he had gone through; and, when he came to that +morning's chastisement, and showed the wale across the little hands which +he had vainly held up in supplication, Philip's passion shook him from +limb to limb. His impulse was to march straight into Mr. Morton's shop +and gripe him by the throat; and the indignation he betrayed encouraged +Sidney to colour yet more highly the tale of his wrongs and pain. + +When he had done, and clinging tightly to his brother's broad chest, +said-- + +"But never mind, Philip; now we will go home to mamma." + +Philip replied-- + +"Listen to me, my dear brother. We cannot go back to our mother. I will +tell you why, later. We are alone in the world-we two! If you will come +with me--God help you!--for you will have many hardships: we shall have +to work and drudge, and you may be cold and hungry, and tired, very +often, Sidney,--very, very often! But you know that, long ago, when I +was so passionate, I never was wilfully unkind to you; and I declare now, +that I would bite out my tongue rather than it should say a harsh word to +you. That is all I can promise. Think well. Will you never miss all +the comforts you have now?" + +"Comforts!" repeated Sidney, ruefully, and looking at the wale over his +hands. "Oh! let--let--let me go with you, I shall die if I stay here. +I shall indeed--indeed!" + +"Hush!" said Philip; for at that moment a step was heard, and the pale +gentleman walked slowly down the passage, and started, and turned his +head wistfully as he looked at the boys. + +When he was gone. Philip rose. + +"It is settled, then," said he, firmly. "Come with me at once. You +shall return to their roof no more. Come, quick: we shall have many +miles to go to-night." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + "He comes-- + Yet careless what he brings; his one concern + Is to conduct it to the destined inn; + And having dropp'd the expected bag, pass on---- + To him indifferent whether grief or joy." + COWPER: Description of the Postman. + +The pale gentleman entered Mr. Morton's shop; and, looking round him, +spied the worthy trader showing shawls to a young lady just married. He +seated himself on a stool, and said to the bowing foreman-- + +"I will wait till Mr. Morton is disengaged." + +The young lady having closely examined seven shawls, and declared they +were beautiful, said, "she would think of it," and walked away. Mr. +Morton now approached the stranger. + +"Mr. Morton," said the pale gentleman; "you are very little altered. You +do not recollect me?" + +"Bless me, Mr. Spencer! is it really you? Well, what a time since we +met! I am very glad to see you. And what brings you to N----? +Business?" + +"Yes, business. Let us go within?" + +Mr. Morton led the way to the parlour, where Master Tom, reperched on the +stool, was rapidly digesting the plundered muffin. Mr. Morton dismissed +him to play, and the pale gentleman took a chair. + +"Mr. Morton," said he, glancing over his dress, "you see I am in +mourning. It is for your sister. I never got the better of that early +attachment--never." + +"My sister! Good Heavens!" said Mr. Morton, turning very pale; "is she +dead? Poor Catherine!--and I not know of it! When did she die?" + +"Not many days since; and--and--" said Mr. Spencer, greatly affected, "I +fear in want. I had been abroad for some months: on my return last week, +looking over the newspapers (for I always order them to be filed), I read +the short account of her lawsuit against Mr. Beaufort, some time back. +I resolved to find her out. I did so through the solicitor she employed: +it was too late; I arrived at her lodgings two days after her--her +burial. I then determined to visit poor Catherine's brother, and learn +if anything could be done for the children she had left behind." + +"She left but two. Philip, the elder, is very comfortably placed at +R----; the younger has his home with me; and Mrs. Morton is a moth--that +is to say, she takes great pains with him. Ehem! And my poor--poor +sister!" + +"Is he like his mother?" + +"Very much, when she was young--poor dear Catherine!" + +"What age is he?" + +"About ten, perhaps; I don't know exactly; much younger than the other. +And so she's dead!" + +"Mr. Morton, I am an old bachelor" (here a sickly smile crossed Mr. +Spencer's face); "a small portion of my fortune is settled, it is true, +on my relations; but the rest is mine, and I live within my income. The +elder of these boys is probably old enough to begin to take care of +himself. But, the younger--perhaps you have a family of your own, and +can spare him!" + +Mr. Morton hesitated, and twitched up his trousers. "Why," said he, +"this is very kind in you. I don't know--we'll see. The boy is out now; +come and dine with us at two--pot-luck. Well, so she is no more! +Heigho! Meanwhile, I'll talk it over with Mrs. M." + +"I will be with you," said Mr. Spencer, rising. + +"Ah!" sighed Mr. Morton, "if Catherine had but married you she would have +been a happy woman." + +"I would have tried to make her so," said Mr. Spencer, as he turned away +his face and took his departure. + +Two o'clock came; but no Sidney. They had sent to the place whither he +had been despatched; he had never arrived there. Mr. Morton grew +alarmed; and, when Mr. Spencer came to dinner, his host was gone in +search of the truant. He did not return till three. Doomed that day to +be belated both at breakfast and dinner, this decided him to part with +Sidney whenever he should be found. Mrs. Morton was persuaded that the +child only sulked, and would come back fast enough when he was hungry. +Mr. Spencer tried to believe her, and ate his mutton, which was burnt to +a cinder; but when five, six, seven o'clock came, and the boy was still +missing,--even Mrs. Morton agreed that it was high time to institute a +regular search. The whole family set off different ways. It was ten +o'clock before they were reunited; and then all the news picked up was, +that a boy, answering Sidney's description, had been seen with a young +man in three several parts of the town; the last time at the outskirts, +on the high road towards the manufacturing districts. These tidings so +far relieved Mr. Morton's mind that he dismissed the chilling fear that +had crept there,--that Sidney might have drowned himself. Boys will +drown themselves sometimes! The description of the young man coincided +so remarkably with the fellow-passenger of Mr. Spencer, that he did not +doubt it was the same; the more so when he recollected having seen him +with a fair-haired child under the portico; and yet more, when he +recalled the likeness to Catherine that had struck him in the coach, and +caused the inquiry that had roused Philip's suspicion. The mystery was +thus made clear--Sidney had fled with his brother. Nothing more, +however, could be done that night. The next morning, active measures +should be devised; and when the morning came, the mail brought to Mr. +Morton the two following letters. The first was from Arthur Beaufort. + +"SIR,--I have been prevented by severe illness from writing to yon +before. I can now scarcely hold a pen; but the instant my health is +recovered I shall be with you at N ---, on her deathbed, the mother of +the boy under your charge, Sidney Morton, committed him solemnly to me. +I make his fortunes my care, and shall hasten to claim him at your kindly +hands. But the elder son,--this poor Philip, who has suffered so +unjustly,--for our lawyer has seen Mr. Plaskwith, and heard the whole +story--what has become of him? All our inquiries have failed to track +him. Alas, I was too ill to institute them myself while it was yet time. +Perhaps he may have sought shelter, with you, his uncle; if so, assure +him that he is in no danger from the pursuit of the law,--that his +innocence is fully recognised; and that my father and myself implore him +to accept our affection. I can write no more now; but in a few days I +shall hope to see you. + "I am, sir, &c., + "ARTHUR BEAUFORT. +"Berkely Square. " + + +The second letter was from Mr. Plaskwith, and ran thus: + +"DEAR MORTON,--Something very awkward has happened,--not my fault, and +very unpleasant for me. Your relation, Philip, as I wrote you word, was +a painstaking lad, though odd and bad mannered,--for want, perhaps, poor +boy! of being taught better, and Mrs. P. is, you know, a very genteel +woman--women go too much by manners--so she never took much to him. +However, to the point, as the French emperor used to say: one evening he +asked me for money for his mother, who, he said, was ill, in a very +insolent way: I may say threatening. It was in my own shop, and before +Plimmins and Mrs. P.; I was forced to answer with dignified rebuke, and +left the shop. When I returned, he was gone, and some shillings- +fourteen, I think, and three sovereigns--evidently from the till, +scattered on the floor. Mrs. P. and Mr. Plimmins were very much +frightened; thought it was clear I was robbed, and that we were to be +murdered. Plimmins slept below that night, and we borrowed butcher +Johnson's dog. Nothing happened. I did not think I was robbed; because +the money, when we came to calculate, was all right. I know human +nature. He had thought to take it, but repented--quite clear. However, +I was naturally very angry, thought he'd comeback again--meant to reprove +him properly--waited several days--heard nothing of him--grew uneasy-- +would not attend longer to Mrs. P.; for, as Napoleon Buonaparte observed, +'women are well in their way, not in our ours.' Made Plimmins go with me +to town--hired a Bow Street runner to track him out--cost me L1. 1s, and +two glasses of brandy and water. Poor Mrs. Morton was just buried--quite +shocked! Suddenly saw the boy in the streets. Plimmins rushed forward +in the kindest way--was knocked down--hurt his arm--paid 2s. 6d. for +lotion. Philip ran off, we ran after him--could not find him. Forced to +return home. Next day, a lawyer from a Mr. Beaufort--Mr. George +Blackwell, a gentlemanlike man called. Mr. Beaufort will do anything for +him in reason. Is there anything more I can do? I really am very uneasy +about the lad, and Mrs. P. and I have a tiff about it: but that's +nothing--thought I had best write to you for instructions. + "Yours truly, + "C. PLASHWITH. + +"P. S.--Just open my letter to say, Bow Street officer just been here-- +has found out that the boy has been seen with a very suspicious +character: they think he has left London. Bow Street officer wants to go +after him--very expensive: so now you can decide." + + +Mr. Spencer scarcely listened to Mr. Plaskwith's letter, but of Arthur's +he felt jealous. He would fain have been the only protector to +Catherine's children; but he was the last man fitted to head the search, +now so necessary to prosecute with equal tact and energy. + +A soft-hearted, soft-headed man, a confirmed valtudinarian, a day- +dreamer, who had wasted away his life in dawdling and maundering over +Simple Poetry, and sighing over his unhappy attachment; no child, no +babe, was more thoroughly helpless than Mr. Spencer. + +The task of investigation devolved, therefore, on Mr. Morton, and he went +about it in a regular, plain, straightforward way. Hand-bills were +circulated, constables employed, and a lawyer, accompanied by Mr. +Spencer, despatched to the manufacturing districts: towards which the +orphans had been seen to direct their path. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + "Give the gentle South + Yet leave to court these sails." + BEAUMONT AND FLLTCHER: Beggar's Bush. + + "Cut your cloth, sir, + According to your calling."--Ibid. + +Meanwhile the brothers were far away, and He who feeds the young ravens +made their paths pleasant to their feet. Philip had broken to Sidney the +sad news of their mother's death, and Sidney had wept with bitter +passion. But children,--what can they know of death? Their tears over +graves dry sooner than the dews. It is melancholy to compare the depth, +the endurance, the far-sighted, anxious, prayerful love of a parent, with +the inconsiderate, frail, and evanescent affection of the infant, whose +eyes the hues of the butterfly yet dazzle with delight. It was the night +of their flight, and in the open air, when Philip (his arms round +Sidney's waist) told his brother-orphan that they were motherless. And +the air was balmy, the skies filled with the effulgent presence of the +August moon; the cornfields stretched round them wide and far, and not a +leaf trembled on the beech-tree beneath which they had sought shelter. +It seemed as if Nature herself smiled pityingly on their young sorrow, +and said to them, "Grieve not for the dead: I, who live for ever, I will +be your mother!" + +They crept, as the night deepened, into the warmer sleeping-place +afforded by stacks of hay, mown that summer and still fragrant. And the +next morning the birds woke them betimes, to feel that Liberty, at least, +was with them, and to wander with her at will. + +Who in his boyhood has not felt the delight of freedom and adventure? +to have the world of woods and sward before him--to escape restriction-- +to lean, for the first time, on his own resources--to rejoice in the wild +but manly luxury of independence--to act the Crusoe--and to fancy a +Friday in every footprint--an island of his own in every field? Yes, in +spite of their desolation, their loss, of the melancholy past, of the +friendless future, the orphans were happy--happy in their youth--their +freedom--their love--their wanderings in the delicious air of the +glorious August. Sometimes they came upon knots of reapers lingering in +the shade of the hedge-rows over their noonday meal; and, grown sociable +by travel, and bold by safety, they joined and partook of the rude fare +with the zest of fatigue and youth. Sometimes, too, at night, they saw, +gleam afar and red by the woodside, the fires of gipsy tents. But these, +with the superstition derived from old nursery-tales, they scrupulously +shunned, eying them with a mysterious awe! What heavenly twilights +belong to that golden month!--the air so lucidly serene, as the purple of +the clouds fades gradually away, and up soars, broad, round, intense, and +luminous, the full moon which belongs to the joyous season! The fields +then are greener than in the heats of July and June,--they have got back +the luxury of a second spring. And still, beside the paths of the +travellers, lingered on the hedges the clustering honeysuckle--the +convolvulus glittered in the tangles of the brake--the hardy heathflower +smiled on the green waste. + +And ever, at evening, they came, field after field, upon those circles +which recall to children so many charmed legends, and are fresh and +frequent in that month--the Fairy Rings! They thought, poor boys! that +it was a good omen, and half fancied that the Fairies protected them, as +in the old time they had often protected the desolate and outcast. + +They avoided the main roads, and all towns, with suspicious care. But +sometimes they paused, for food and rest, at the obscure hostel of some +scattered hamlet: though, more often, they loved to spread the simple +food they purchased by the way under some thick, tree, or beside a stream +through whose limpid waters they could watch the trout glide and play. +And they often preferred the chance shelter of a haystack, or a shed, to +the less romantic repose offered by the small inns they alone dared to +enter. They went in this much by the face and voice of the host or +hostess. Once only Philip had entered a town, on the second day of their +flight, and that solely for the purchase of ruder clothes, and a change +of linen for Sidney, with some articles and implements of use necessary +in their present course of shift and welcome hardship. A wise +precaution; for, thus clad, they escaped suspicion. + +So journeying, they consumed several days; and, having taken a direction +quite opposite to that which led to the manufacturing districts, whither +pursuit had been directed, they were now in the centre of another county +--in the neighbourhood of one of the most considerable towns of England; +and here Philip began to think their wanderings ought to cease, and it +was time to settle on some definite course of life. He had carefully +hoarded about his person, and most thriftily managed, the little fortune +bequeathed by his mother. But Philip looked on this capital as a deposit +sacred to Sidney; it was not to be spent, but kept and augmented--the +nucleus for future wealth. Within the last few weeks his character was +greatly ripened, and his powers of thought enlarged. He was no more a +boy,--he was a man: he had another life to take care of. He resolved, +then, to enter the town they were approaching, and to seek for some +situation by which he might maintain both. Sidney was very loath to +abandon their present roving life; but he allowed that the warm weather +could not always last, and that in winter the fields would be less +pleasant. He, therefore, with a sigh, yielded to his brother's +reasonings. + +They entered the fair and busy town of one day at noon; and, after +finding a small lodging, at which he deposited Sidney, who was fatigued +with their day's walk, Philip sallied forth alone. + +After his long rambling, Philip was pleased and struck with the broad +bustling streets, the gay shops--the evidences of opulence and trade. He +thought it hard if he could not find there a market for the health and +heart of sixteen. He strolled slowly and alone along the streets, till +his attention was caught by a small corner shop, in the window of which +was placed a board, bearing this inscription: + +"OFFICE FOR EMPLOYMENT.--RECIPROCAL ADVANTAGE. + +"Mr. John Clump's bureau open every day, from ten till four. Clerks, +servants, labourers, &c., provided with suitable situations. Terms +moderate. N.B.--The oldest established office in the town. + +"Wanted, a good cook. An under gardener." + +What he sought was here! Philip entered, and saw a short fat man with +spectacles, seated before a desk, poring upon the well-filled leaves of a +long register. + +"Sir," said Philip, "I wish for a situation. I don't care what." + +"Half-a-crown for entry, if you please. That's right. Now for +particulars. Hum!--you don't look like a servant!" + +"No; I wish for any place where my education can be of use. I can read +and write; I know Latin and French; I can draw; I know arithmetic and +summing." + +"Very well; very genteel young man--prepossessing appearance (that's a +fudge!), highly educated; usher in a school, eh?" + +"What you like." + +"References?" + +"I have none." + +"Eh!--none?" and Mr. Clump fixed his spectacles full upon Philip. + +Philip was prepared for the question, and had the sense to perceive that +a frank reply was his best policy. "The fact is," said he boldly, "I was +well brought up; my father died; I was to be bound apprentice to a trade +I disliked; I left it, and have now no friends." + +"If I can help you, I will," said Mr. Clump, coldly. "Can't promise +much. If you were a labourer, character might not matter; but educated +young men must have a character. Hands always more useful than head. +Education no avail nowadays; common, quite common. Call again on +Monday." + +Somewhat disappointed and chilled, Philip turned from the bureau; but he +had a strong confidence in his own resources, and recovered his spirits +as he mingled with the throng. He passed, at length, by a livery-stable, +and paused, from old associations, as he saw a groom in the mews +attempting to manage a young, hot horse, evidently unbroken. The master +of the stables, in a green short jacket and top-boots, with a long whip +in his hand, was standing by, with one or two men who looked like +horsedealers. + +"Come off, clumsy! you can't manage that I ere fine hanimal," cried the +liveryman. "Ah! he's a lamb, sir, if he were backed properly. But I +has not a man in the yard as can ride since Will died. Come off, I say, +lubber!" + +But to come off, without being thrown off, was more easily said than +done. The horse was now plunging as if Juno had sent her gadfly to him; +and Philip, interested and excited, came nearer and nearer, till he stood +by the side of the horse-dealers. The other ostlers ran to the help of +their comrade, who at last, with white lips and shaking knees, found +himself on terra firma; while the horse, snorting hard, and rubbing his +head against the breast and arms of the ostler, who held him tightly by +the rein, seemed to ask, is his own way, "Are there any more of you?" + +A suspicion that the horse was an old acquaintance crossed Philip's mind; +he went up to him, and a white spot over the left eye confirmed his +doubts. It had been a foal reserved and reared for his own riding! one +that, in his prosperous days, had ate bread from his hand, and followed +him round the paddock like a dog; one that he had mounted in sport, +without saddle, when his father's back was turned; a friend, in short, of +the happy Lang syne;--nay, the very friend to whom he had boasted his +affection, when, standing with Arthur Beaufort under the summer sky, the +whole world seemed to him full of friends. He put his hand on the +horse's neck, and whispered, "Soho! So, Billy!" and the horse turned +sharp round with a quick joyous neigh. + +"If you please, sir," said Philip, appealing to the liveryman, "I will +undertake to ride this horse, and take him over yon leaping-bar. Just +let me try him." + +"There's a fine-spirited lad for you!" said the liveryman, much pleased +at the offer. "Now, gentlemen, did I not tell you that 'ere hanimal had +no vice if he was properly managed?" + +The horse-dealers shook their heads. + +"May I give him some bread first?" asked Philip; and the ostler was +despatched to the house. Meanwhile the animal evinced various signs of +pleasure and recognition, as Philip stroked and talked to him; and, +finally, when he ate the bread from the young man's hand, the whole yard +seemed in as much delight and surprise as if they had witnessed one of +Monsieur Van Amburgh's exploits. + +And now, Philip, still caressing the horse, slowly and cautiously +mounted; the animal made one bound half-across the yard--a bound which +sent all the horse-dealers into a corner-and then went through his paces, +one after the other, with as much ease and calm as if he had been broken +in at Mr. Fozard's to carry a young lady. And when he crowned all by +going thrice over the leaping-bar, and Philip, dismounting, threw the +reins to the ostler, and turned triumphantly to the horse-dealer, that +gentleman slapped him on the back, and said, emphatically, "Sir, you are +a man! and I am proud to see you here." + +Meanwhile the horse-dealers gathered round the animal; looked at his +hoofs, felt his legs, examined his windpipe, and concluded the bargain, +which, but for Philip, would have been very abruptly broken off. When +the horse was led out of the yard, the liveryman, Mr. Stubmore, turned to +Philip, who, leaning against the wall, followed the poor animal with +mournful eyes. + +"My good sir, you have sold that horse for me--that you have! Anything +as I can do for you? One good turn de serves another. Here's a brace of +shiners." + +"Thank you, sir! I want no money, but I do want some employment. I can +be of use to you, perhaps, in your establishment. I have been brought up +among horses all my life." + +"Saw it, sir! that's very clear. I say, that 'ere horse knows you!" +and the dealer put his finger to his nose. + +"Quite right to be mum! He was bred by an old customer of mine--famous +rider!--Mr. Beaufort. Aha! that's where you knew him, I s'pose. Were +you in his stables?" + +"Hem--I knew Mr. Beaufort well." + +"Did you? You could not know a better man. Well, I shall be very glad +to engage you, though you seem by your hands to be a bit of a gentleman- +elh? Never mind; don't want you to groom!--but superintend things. D'ye +know accounts, eh?" + +"Yes." + +"Character?" + +Philip repeated to Mr. Stubmore the story he had imparted to Mr. Clump. +Somehow or other, men who live much with horses are always more lax in +their notions than the rest of mankind. Mr. Stubmore did not seem to +grow more distant at Philip's narration. + +"Understand you perfectly, my man. Brought up with them 'ere fine +creturs, how could you nail your nose to a desk? I'll take you without +more palaver. What's your name?" + +"Philips." + +"Come to-morrow, and we'll settle about wages. Sleep here?" + +"No. I have a brother whom I must lodge with, and for whose sake I wish +to work. I should not like him to be at the stables--he is too young. +But I can come early every day, and go home late." + +"Well, just as you like, my man. Good day." + +And thus, not from any mental accomplishment--not from the result of his +intellectual education, but from the mere physical capacity and brute +habit of sticking fast on his saddle, did Philip Morton, in this great, +intelligent, gifted, civilised, enlightened community of Great Britain, +find the means of earning his bread without stealing it. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + "_Don Salluste (souriunt)_. Je paire + Que vous ne pensiez pas a moi?"--Ruy Blas. + + "_Don Salluste_. Cousin! + Don Cesar. De vos bienfaits je n'aurai nulle envie, + Tant que je trouverai vivant ma libre vie."--Ibid. + + Don Sallust (smiling). I'll lay a wager you won't think of me? + Don Sallust. Cousin! + Don Caesar. I covet not your favours, so but I lead an independent + life. + +Phillip's situation was agreeable to his habits. His great courage and +skill in horsemanship were not the only qualifications useful to Mr. +Stubmore: his education answered a useful purpose in accounts, and his +manners and appearance were highly to the credit of the yard. The +customers and loungers soon grew to like Gentleman Philips, as he was +styled in the establishment. Mr. Stubmore conceived a real affection for +him. So passed several weeks; and Philip, in this humble capacity, might +have worked out his destinies in peace and comfort, but for a new cause +of vexation that arose in Sidney. This boy was all in all to his +brother. For him he had resisted the hearty and joyous invitations of +Gawtrey (whose gay manner and high spirits had, it must be owned, +captivated his fancy, despite the equivocal mystery of the man's +avocations and condition); for him he now worked and toiled, cheerful and +contented; and him he sought to save from all to which he subjected +himself. He could not bear that that soft and delicate child should ever +be exposed to the low and menial associations that now made up his own +life--to the obscene slang of grooms and ostlers--to their coarse manners +and rough contact. He kept him, therefore, apart and aloof in their +little lodging, and hoped in time to lay by, so that Sidney might +ultimately be restored, if not to his bright original sphere, at least to +a higher grade than that to which Philip was himself condemned. But poor +Sidney could not bear to be thus left alone--to lose sight of his brother +from daybreak till bed-time--to have no one to amuse him; he fretted and +pined away: all the little inconsiderate selfishness, uneradicated from +his breast by his sufferings, broke out the more, the more he felt that +he was the first object on earth to Philip. Philip, thinking he might be +more cheerful at a day-school, tried the experiment of placing him at one +where the boys were much of his own age. But Sidney, on the third day, +came back with a black eye, and he would return no more. Philip several +times thought of changing their lodging for one where there were young +people. But Sidney had taken a fancy to the kind old widow who was their +landlady, and cried at the thought of removal. Unfortunately, the old +woman was deaf and rheumatic; and though she bore teasing _ad libitum_, +she could not entertain the child long on a stretch. Too young to be +reasonable, Sidney could not, or would not, comprehend why his brother +was so long away from him; and once he said, peevishly,-- + +"If I had thought I was to be moped up so, I would not have left Mrs. +Morton. Tom was a bad boy, but still it was somebody to play with. I +wish I had not gone away with you!" + +This speech cut Philip to the heart. What, then, he had taken from the +child a respectable and safe shelter--the sure provision of a life--and +the child now reproached him! When this was said to him, the tears +gushed from his eyes. "God forgive me, Sidney," said he, and turned +away. + +But then Sidney, who had the most endearing ways with him, seeing his +brother so vexed, ran up and kissed him, and scolded himself for being +naughty. Still the words were spoken, and their meaning rankled deep. +Philip himself, too, was morbid in his excessive tenderness for this boy. +There is a certain age, before the love for the sex commences, when the +feeling of friendship is almost a passion. You see it constantly in +girls and boys at school. It is the first vague craving of the heart +after the master food of human life--Love. It has its jealousies, and +humours, and caprices, like love itself. Philip was painfully acute to +Sidney's affection, was jealous of every particle of it. He dreaded lest +his brother should ever be torn from him. + +He would start from his sleep at night, and go to Sidney's bed to see +that he was there. He left him in the morning with forebodings--he +returned in the dark with fear. Meanwhile the character of this young +man, so sweet and tender to Sidney, was gradually becoming more hard and +stern to others. He had now climbed to the post of command in that rude +establishment; and premature command in any sphere tends to make men +unsocial and imperious. + +One day Mr. Stubmore called him into his own countinghouse, where stood a +gentleman, with one hand in his coatpocket, the other tapping his whip +against his boot. + +"Philips, show this gentleman the brown mare. She is a beauty in +harness, is she not? This gentleman wants a match for his pheaton." + +"She must step very hoigh," said the gentleman, turning round: and Philip +recognised the beau in the stage-coach. The recognition was +simultaneous. The beau nodded, then whistled, and winked. + +"Come, my man, I am at your service," said he. + +Philip, with many misgivings, followed him across the yard. The +gentleman then beckoned him to approach. + +"You, sir,--moind, I never peach--setting up here in the honest line? +Dull work, honesty,--eh?" + +"Sir, I really don't know you." + +"Daun't you recollect old Greggs, the evening you came there with jolly +Bill Gawtrey? Recollect that, eh?" Philip was mute. + +"I was among the gentlemen in the back parlour who shook you by the hand. +Bill's off to France, then. I am tauking the provinces. I want a good +horse--the best in the yard, moind! Cutting such a swell here! My name +is Captain de Burgh Smith--never moind yours, my fine faellow. Now, +then, out with your rattlers, and keep your tongue in your mouth." + +Philip mechanically ordered out the brown mare, which Captain Smith did +not seem much to approve of; and, after glancing round the stables with +great disdain of the collection, he sauntered out of the yard without +saying more to Philip, though he stopped and spoke a few sentences to Mr. +Stubmore. Philip hoped he had no design of purchasing, and that he was +rid, for the present, of so awkward a customer. Mr. Stubmore approached +Philip. + +"Drive over the greys to Sir John," said he. "My lady wants a pair to +job. A very pleasant man, that Captain Smith. I did not know you had +been in a yard before--says you were the pet at Elmore's in London. +Served him many a day. Pleasant, gentlemanlike man!" + +"Y-e-s!" said Philip, hardly knowing what he said, and hurrying back +into the stables to order out the greys. The place to which he was bound +was some miles distant, and it was sunset when he returned. As he drove +into the main street, two men observed him closely. + +"That is he! I am almost sure it is," said one. "Oh! then it's all +smooth sailing," replied the other. + +"But, bless my eyes! you must be mistaken! See whom he's talking to +now!" + +At that moment Captain de Burgh Smith, mounted on the brown mare, stopped +Philip. + +"Well, you see, I've bought her,--hope she'll turn out well. What do you +really think she's worth? Not to buy, but to sell?" + +"Sixty guineas." + +"Well, that's a good day's work; and I owe it to you. The old faellow +would not have trusted me if you had not served me at Elmore's--ha! ha! +If he gets scent and looks shy at you, my lad, come to me. I'm at the +Star Hotel for the next few days. I want a tight faellow like you, and +you shall have a fair percentage. I'm none of your stingy ones. I say, +I hope this devil is quiet? She cocks up her ears dawmnably!" + +"Look you, sir!" said Philip, very gravely, and rising up in his break; +"I know very little of you, and that little is not much to your credit. +I give you fair warning that I shall caution my employer against you." + +"Will you, my fine faellow? then take care of yourself." + +"Stay, and if you dare utter a word against me," said Philip, with that +frown to which his swarthy complexion and flashing eyes gave an +expression of fierce power beyond his years, "you will find that, as I am +the last to care for a threat, so I am the first to resent an injury!" + +Thus saying, he drove on. Captain Smith affected a cough, and put his +brown mare into a canter. The two men followed Philip as he drove into +the yard. + +"What do you know against the person he spoke to?" said one of them. + +"Merely that he is one of the cunningest swells on this side the Bay," +returned the other. "It looks bad for your young friend." + +The first speaker shook his head and made no reply. + +On gaining the yard, Philip found that Mr. Stubmore had gone out, and was +not expected home till the next day. He had some relations who were +farmers, whom he often visited; to them he was probably gone. + +Philip, therefore, deferring his intended caution against the gay captain +till the morrow, and musing how the caution might be most discreetly +given, walked homeward. He had just entered the lane that led to his +lodgings, when he saw the two men I have spoken of on the other side of +the street. The taller and better-dressed of the two left his comrade; +and crossing over to Philip, bowed, and thus accosted him,-- + +"Fine evening, Mr. Philip Morton. I am rejoiced to see you at last. You +remember me--Mr. Blackwell, Lincoln's Inn." + +"What is your business?" said Philip, halting, and speaking short and +fiercely. + +"Now don't be in a passion, my dear sir,--now don't. I am here on behalf +of my clients, Messrs. Beaufort, sen. and jun. I have had such work to +find you! Dear, dear! but you are a sly one! Ha! ha! Well, you see we +have settled that little affair of Plaskwith's for you (might have been +ugly), and now I hope you will--" + +"To your business, sir! What do you want with me?" + +"Why, now, don't be so quick! 'Tis not the way to do business. Suppose +you step to my hotel. A glass of wine now, Mr. Philip! We shall soon +understand each other." + +"Out of my path, or speak plainly!" + +Thus put to it, the lawyer, casting a glance at his stout companion, who +appeared to be contemplating the sunset on the other side of the way, +came at once to the marrow of his subject. + +"Well, then,--well, my say is soon said. Mr. Arthur Beaufort takes a +most lively interest in you; it is he who has directed this inquiry. He +bids me say that he shall be most happy--yes, most happy--to serve you in +anything; and if you will but see him, he is in the town, I am sure you +will be charmed with him--most amiable young man!" + +"Look you, sir," said Philip, drawing himself up "neither from father, +nor from son, nor from one of that family, on whose heads rest the +mother's death and the orphans' curse, will I ever accept boon or +benefit--with them, voluntarily, I will hold no communion; if they force +themselves in my path, let them beware! I am earning my bread in the way +I desire--I am independent--I want them not. Begone!" + +With that, Philip pushed aside the lawyer and strode on rapidly. Mr. +Blackwell, abashed and perplexed, returned to his companion. + +Philip regained his home, and found Sidney stationed at the window alone, +and with wistful eyes noting the flight of the grey moths as they darted +to and fro, across the dull shrubs that, variegated with lines for +washing, adorned the plot of ground which the landlady called a garden. +The elder brother had returned at an earlier hour than usual, and Sidney +did not at first perceive him enter. When he did he clapped his hands, +and ran to him. + +"This is so good in you, Philip. I have been so dull; you will come and +play now?" + +"With all my heart--where shall we play?" said Philip, with a cheerful +smile. + +"Oh, in the garden!--it's such a nice time for hide and seek." + +"But is it not chill and damp for you?" said Philip. + +"There now; you are always making excuses. I see you don't like it. I +have no heart to play now." + +Sidney seated himself and pouted. + +"Poor Sidney! you must be dull without me. Yes, let us play; but put on +this handkerchief;" and Philip took off his own cravat and tied it round +his brother's neck, and kissed him. + +Sidney, whose anger seldom lasted long, was reconciled; and they went +into the garden to play. It was a little spot, screened by an old moss- +grown paling, from the neighbouring garden on the one side and a lane on +the other. They played with great glee till the night grew darker and +the dews heavier. + +"This must be the last time," cried Philip. "It is my turn to hide." + +"Very well! Now, then." + +Philip secreted himself behind a poplar; and as Sidney searched for him, +and Philip stole round and round the tree, the latter, happening to look +across the paling, saw the dim outline of a man's figure in the lane, who +appeared watching them. A thrill shot across his breast. These +Beauforts, associated in his thoughts with every evil omen and augury, +had they set a spy upon his movements? He remained erect and gazing at +the form, when Sidney discovered, and ran up to him, with his noisy +laugh. + +As the child clung to him, shouting with gladness, Philip, unheeding his +playmate, called aloud and imperiously to the stranger-- + +"What are you gaping at? Why do you stand watching us?" + +The man muttered something, moved on, and disappeared. "I hope there are +no thieves here! I am so much afraid of thieves," said Sidney, +tremulously. + +The fear grated on Philip's heart. Had he not himself, perhaps, been +judged and treated as a thief? He said nothing, but drew his brother +within; and there, in their little room, by the one poor candle, it was +touching and beautiful to see these boys--the tender patience of the +elder lending itself to every whim of the younger--now building houses +with cards--now telling stories of fairy and knight-errant--the +sprightliest he could remember or invent. At length, as all was over, +and Sidney was undressing for the night, Philip, standing apart, said to +him, in a mournful voice:-- + +"Are you sad now, Sidney?" + +"No! not when you are with me--but that is so seldom." + +"Do you read none of the story-books I bought for you?" + +"Sometimes! but one can't read all day." + +"Ah! Sidney, if ever we should part, perhaps you will love me no longer!" + +"Don't say so," said Sidney. "But we sha'n't part, Philip?" + +Philip sighed, and turned away as his brother leaped into bed. Something +whispered to him that danger was near; and as it was, could Sidney grow +up, neglected and uneducated; was it thus that he was to fulfil his +trust? + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + "But oh, what storm was in that mind!"--CRABBE. _Ruth_ + +While Philip mused, and his brother fell into the happy sleep of +childhood, in a room in the principal hotel of the town sat three +persons, Arthur Beaufort, Mr. Spencer, and Mr. Blackwell. + +"And so," said the first, "he rejected every overture from the +Beauforts?" + +"With a scorn I cannot convey to you!" replied the lawyer. "But the +fact is, that he is evidently a lad of low habits; to think of his being +a sort of helper to a horse dealer! I suppose, sir, he was always in the +stables in his father's time. Bad company depraves the taste very soon; +but that is not the worst. Sharp declares that the man he was talking +with, as I told you, is a common swindler. Depend on it, Mr. Arthur, he +is incorrigible; all we can do is to save the brother." + +"It is too dreadful to contemplate!" said Arthur, who, still ill and +languid, reclined on a sofa. + +"It is, indeed," said Mr. Spencer; "I am sure I should not know what to +do with such a character; but the other poor child, it would be a mercy +to get hold of him." + +"Where is Mr. Sharp?" asked Arthur. + +"Why," said the lawyer, "he has followed Philip at a distance to find out +his lodgings, and learn if his brother is with him. Oh! here he is!" +and Blackwell's companion in the earlier part of the evening entered. + +"I have found him out, sir," said Mr. Sharp, wiping his forehead. "What +a fierce 'un he is! I thought he would have had a stone at my head; but +we officers are used to it; we does our duty, and Providence makes our +heads unkimmon hard!" + +"Is the child with him?" asked Mr. Spencer. + +"Yes, sir." + +"A little, quiet, subdued boy?" asked the melancholy inhabitant of the +Lakes. + +"Quiet! Lord love you! never heard a noisier little urchin! There they +were, romping and romping in the garden, like a couple of gaol birds." + +"You see," groaned Mr. Spencer, "he will make that poor child as bad as +himself." + +"What shall us do, Mr. Blackwell?" asked Sharp, who longed for his +brandy and water. + +"Why, I was thinking you might go to the horse-dealer the first thing in +the morning; find out whether Philip is really thick with the swindler; +and, perhaps, Mr. Stubmore may have some influence with him, if, without +saying who he is--" + +"Yes," interrupted Arthur, "do not expose his name." + +"You could still hint that he ought to be induced to listen to his +friends and go with them. Mr. Stubmore may be a respectable man, and---" + +"I understand," said Sharp; "I have no doubt as how I can settle it. We +learns to know human natur in our profession;--'cause why? we gets at +its blind side. Good night, gentlemen!" + +"You seem very pale, Mr. Arthur; you had better go to bed; you promised +your father, you know." + +"Yes, I am not well; I will go to bed;" and Arthur rose, lighted his +candle, and sought his room. + +"I will see Philip to-morrow," he said to himself; "he will listen to +me." + +The conduct of Arthur Beaufort in executing the charge he had undertaken +had brought into full light all the most amiable and generous part of his +character. As soon as he was sufficiently recovered, he had expressed so +much anxiety as to the fate of the orphans, that to quiet him his father +was forced to send for Mr. Blackwell. The lawyer had ascertained, +through Dr. ---, the name of Philip's employer at R----. At Arthur's +request he went down to Mr. Plaskwith; and arriving there the day after +the return of the bookseller, learned those particulars with which Mr. +Plaskwith's letter to Roger Morton has already made the reader +acquainted. The lawyer then sent for Mr. Sharp, the officer before +employed, and commissioned him to track the young man's whereabout. That +shrewd functionary soon reported that a youth every way answering to +Philip's description had been introduced the night of the escape by a man +celebrated, not indeed for robberies, or larcenies, or crimes of the +coarser kind, but for address in all that more large and complex +character which comes under the denomination of living upon one's wits, +to a polite rendezvous frequented by persons of a similar profession. +Since then, however, all clue of Philip was lost. But though Mr. +Blackwell, in the way of his profession, was thus publicly benevolent +towards the fugitive, he did not the less privately represent to his +patrons, senior and junior, the very equivocal character that Philip must +be allowed to bear. Like most lawyers, hard upon all who wander from the +formal tracks, he unaffectedly regarded Philip's flight and absence as +proofs of a reprobate disposition; and this conduct was greatly +aggravated in his eyes by Mr. Sharp's report, by which it appeared that +after his escape Philip had so suddenly, and, as it were, so naturally, +taken to such equivocal companionship. Mr. Robert Beaufort, already +prejudiced against Philip, viewed matters in the same light as the +lawyer; and the story of his supposed predilections reached Arthur's ears +in so distorted a shape, that even he was staggered and revolted:--still +Philip was so young--Arthur's oath to the orphans' mother so recent--and +if thus early inclined to wrong courses, should not every effort be made +to lure him back to the straight path? With these views and reasonings, +as soon as he was able, Arthur himself visited Mrs. Lacy, and the note +from Philip, which the good lady put into his hands, affected him deeply, +and confirmed all his previous resolutions. Mrs. Lacy was very anxious +to get at his name; but Arthur, having heard that Philip had refused all +aid from his father and Mr. Blackwell, thought that the young man's pride +might work equally against himself, and therefore evaded the landlady's +curiosity. He wrote the next day the letter we have seen, to Mr. Roger +Morton, whose address Catherine had given to him; and by return of post +came a letter from the linendraper narrating the flight of Sidney, as it +was supposed with his brother. This news so excited Arthur that he +insisted on going down to N---- at once, and joining in the search. His +father, alarmed for his health, positively refused; and the consequence +was an increase of fever, a consultation with the doctors, and a +declaration that Mr. Arthur was in that state that it would be dangerous +not to let him have his own way, Mr. Beaufort was forced to yield, and +with Blackwell and Mr. Sharp accompanied his son to N----. The +inquiries, hitherto fruitless, then assumed a more regular and business- +like character. By little and little they came, through the aid of Mr. +Sharp, upon the right clue, up to a certain point. But here there was a +double scent: two youths answering the description, had been seen at a +small village; then there came those who asserted that they had seen the +same youths at a seaport in one direction; others, who deposed to their +having taken the road to an inland town in the other. This had induced +Arthur and his father to part company. Mr. Beaufort, accompanied by +Roger Morton, went to the seaport; and Arthur, with Mr. Spencer and Mr. +Sharp, more fortunate, tracked the fugitives to their retreat. As for +Mr. Beaufort, senior, now that his mind was more at ease about his son, +he was thoroughly sick of the whole thing; greatly bored by the society +of Mr. Morton; very much ashamed that he, so respectable and great a man, +should be employed on such an errand; more afraid of, than pleased with, +any chance of discovering the fierce Philip; and secretly resolved upon +slinking back to London at the first reasonable excuse. + +The next morning Mr. Sharp entered betimes Mr. Stubmore's counting-house. +In the yard he caught a glimpse of Philip, and managed to keep himself +unseen by that young gentleman. + +"Mr. Stubmore, I think?" + +"At your service, sir." + +Mr. Sharp shut the glass door mysteriously, and lifting up the corner of +a green curtain that covered the panes, beckoned to the startled +Stubmore to approach. + +"You see that 'ere young man in the velveteen jacket? you employs him?" + +"I do, sir; he's my right hand." + +"Well, now, don't be frightened, but his friends are arter him. He has +got into bad ways, and we want you to give him a little good advice." + +"Pooh! I know he has run away, like a fine-spirited lad as he is; and as +long as he likes to stay with me, they as comes after him may get a +ducking in the horse-trough!" + +"Be you a father? a father of a family, Mr. Stubmore?" said Sharp, +thrusting his hands into his breeches pockets, swelling out his stomach, +and pursing up his lips with great solemnity. + +"Nonsense! no gammon with me! Take your chaff to the goslings. I tells +you I can't do without that 'ere lad. Every man to himself." + +"Oho!" thought Sharp, "I must change the tack." + +"Mr. Stubmore," said he, taking a stool, "you speaks like a sensible +man. No one can reasonably go for to ask a gentleman to go for to +inconvenience hisself. But what do you know of that 'ere youngster. +Had you a carakter with him?" + +"What's that to you?" + +"Why, it's more to yourself, Mr. Stubmore; he is but a lad, and if he +goes back to his friends they may take care of him, but he got into a bad +set afore he come here. Do you know a good-looking chap with whiskers, +who talks of his pheaton, and was riding last night on a brown mare?" + +"Y--e--s!" said Mr. Stubmore, growing rather pale, "and I knows the +mare, too. Why, sir, I sold him that mare!" + +"Did he pay you for her?" + +"Why, to be sure, he gave me a cheque on Coutts." + +"And you took it! My eyes! what a flat!" Here Mr. Sharp closed the +orbs he had invoked, and whistled with that self-hugging delight which +men invariably feel when another man is taken in. + +Mr. Stubmore became evidently nervous. + +"Why, what now;--you don't think I'm done? I did not let him have the +mare till I went to the hotel,--found he was cutting a great dash there, +a groom, a pheaton, and a fine horse, and as extravagant as the devil!" + +"O Lord!--O Lord! what a world this is! What does he call his-self?" + +"Why, here's the cheque--George Frederick de--de Burgh Smith." + +"Put it in your pipe, my man,--put it in your pipe--not worth a d---!" + +"And who the deuce are you, sir?" bawled out Mr. Stubmore, in an equal +rage both with himself and his guest. + +"I, sir," said the visitor, rising with great dignity,--"I, sir, am of +the great Bow Street Office, and my name is John Sharp!" + +Mr. Stubmore nearly fell off his stool, his eyes rolled in his head, and +his teeth chattered. Mr. Sharp perceived the advantage he had gained, +and continued,-- + +"Yes, sir; and I could have much to say against that chap, who is nothing +more or less than Dashing Jerry, as has ruined more girls and more +tradesmen than any lord in the land. And so I called to give you a bit +of caution; for, says I to myself, 'Mr. Stubmore is a respectable man.'" + +"I hope I am, sir," said the crestfallen horse-dealer; "that was always +my character." + +"And the father of a family?" + +"Three boys and a babe at the buzzom," said Mr. Stubmore pathetically. + +"And he sha'n't be taken in if I can help it! That 'ere young man as I +am arter, you see, knows Captain Smith--ha! ha!--smell a rat now--eh?" + +"Captain Smith said he knew him--the wiper--and that's what made me so +green." + +"Well, we must not be hard on the youngster: 'cause why? he has friends +as is gemmen. But you tell him to go back to his poor dear relations, +and all shall be forgiven; and say as how you won't keep him; and if he +don't go back, he'll have to get his livelihood without a carakter; and +use your influence with him like a man and a Christian, and what's more, +like the father of a family--Mr. Stub more--with three boys and a babe at +the buzzom. You won't keep him now?" + +"Keep him! I have had a precious escape. I'd better go and see after +the mare." + +"I doubt if you'll find her: the Captain caught a sight of me this +morning. Why, he lodges at our hotel. He's off by this time!" + +"And why the devil did you let him go?" + +"'Cause I had no writ agin him!" said the Bow Street officer; and he +walked straight out of the counting-office, satisfied that he had "done +the job." + +To snatch his hat--to run to the hotel--to find that Captain Smith had +indeed gone off in his phaeton, bag and baggage, the, same as he came, +except that he had now two horses to the phaeton instead of one--having +left with the landlord the amount of his bill in another cheque upon +Coutts--was the work of five minutes with Mr. Stubmore. He returned +home, panting and purple with indignation and wounded feeling. + +"To think that chap, whom I took into my yard like a son, should have +connived at this! 'Tain't the money'tis the willany that 'flicts me!" +muttered Mr. Stubmore, as he re-entered the mews. + +Here he came plump upon Philip, who said-- + +"Sir, I wished to see you, to say that you had better take care of +Captain Smith." + +"Oh, you did, did you, now he's gone? 'sconded off to America, I dare +say, by this time. Now look ye, young man; your friends are after you, I +won't say anything agin you; but you go back to them--I wash my hands of +you. Quite too much for me. There's your week, and never let me catch +you in my yard agin, that's all!" + +Philip dropped the money which Stubmore had put into his hand. "My +friends!--friends have been with you, have they? I thought so--I thank +them. And so you part with me? Well, you have been very kind, very +kind; let us part kindly;" and he held out his hand. + +Mr. Stubmore was softened--he touched the hand held out to him, and +looked doubtful a moment; but Captain de Burgh Smith's cheque for eighty +guineas suddenly rose before his eyes. He turned on his heel abruptly, +and said, over his shoulder: + +"Don't go after Captain Smith (he'll come to the gallows); mend your +ways, and be ruled by your poor dear relatives, whose hearts you are +breaking." + +"Captain Smith! Did my relations tell you?" + +"Yes--yes--they told me all--that is, they sent to tell me; so you see +I'm d---d soft not to lay hold of you. But, perhaps, if they be gemmen, +they'll act as sich, and cash me this here cheque!" + +But the last words were said to air. Philip had rushed from the yard. + +With a heaving breast, and every nerve in his body quivering with wrath, +the proud, unhappy boy strode through the gay streets. They had betrayed +him then, these accursed Beauforts! they circled his steps with schemes +to drive him like a deer into the snare of their loathsome charity! The +roof was to be taken from his head--the bread from his lips--so that he +might fawn at their knees for bounty. "But they shall not break my +spirit, nor steal away my curse. No, my dead mother, never!" + +As he thus muttered, he passed through a patch of waste land that led to +the row of houses in which his lodging was placed. And here a voice +called to him, and a hand was laid on his shoulder. He turned, and +Arthur Beaufort, who had followed him from the street, stood behind him. +Philip did not, at the first glance, recognise his cousin; illness had so +altered him, and his dress was so different from that in which he had +first and last beheld him. The contrast between the two young men was +remarkable. Philip was clad in a rough garb suited to his late calling-- +a jacket of black velveteen, ill-fitting and ill-fashioned, loose fustian +trousers, coarse shoes, his hat set deep over his pent eyebrows, his +raven hair long and neglected. He was just at that age when one with +strong features and robust frame is at the worst in point of appearance +--the sinewy proportions not yet sufficiently fleshed, and seeming +inharmonious and undeveloped; precisely in proportion, perhaps, to the +symmetry towards which they insensibly mature: the contour of the face +sharpened from the roundness of boyhood, and losing its bloom without yet +acquiring that relief and shadow which make the expression and dignity of +the masculine countenance. Thus accoutred, thus gaunt, and uncouth, +stood Morton. Arthur Beaufort, always refined in his appearance, seemed +yet more so from the almost feminine delicacy which ill-health threw over +his pale complexion and graceful figure; that sort of unconscious +elegance which belongs to the dress of the rich when they are young--seen +most in minutiae--not observable, perhaps, by themselves-marked forcibly +and painfully the distinction of rank between the two. That distinction +Beaufort did not feel; but at a glance it was visible to Philip. + +The past rushed back on him. The sunny lawn-the gun offered and +rejected-the pride of old, much less haughty than the pride of to-day. + +"Philip," said Beaufort, feebly, "they tell me you will not accept any +kindness from me or mine. Ah! if you knew how we have sought you!" + +"Knew!" cried Philip, savagely, for that unlucky sentence recalled to him +his late interview with his employer, and his present destitution. +"Knew! And why have you dared to hunt me out, and halloo me down?--why +must this insolent tyranny, that assumes the right over these limbs and +this free will, betray and expose me and my wretchedness wherever I +turn?" + +"Your poor mother--" began Beaufort. + +"Name her not with your lips--name her not!" cried Philip, growing livid +with his emotions. "Talk not of the mercy--the forethought--a Beaufort +could show to leer and her offspring! I accept it not--I believe it not. +Oh, yes! you follow me now with your false kindness; and why? Because +your father--your vain, hollow, heartless father--" + +"Hold!" said Beaufort, in a tone of such reproach, that it startled the +wild heart on which it fell; "it is my father you speak of. Let the son +respect the son." + +"No--no--no! I will respect none of your race. I tell you your father +fears me. I tell you that my last words to him ring in his ears! My +wrongs! Arthur Beaufort, when you are absent I seek to forget them; in +your abhorred presence they revive--they--" + +He stopped, almost choked with his passion; but continued instantly, with +equal intensity of fervour: + +Were yon tree the gibbet, and to touch your hand could alone save me from +it, I would scorn your aid. Aid! The very thought fires my blood and +nerves my hand. Aid! Will a Beaufort give me back my birthright-- +restore my dead mother's fair name? Minion!--sleek, dainty, luxurious +minion!--out of my path! You have my fortune, my station, my rights; I +have but poverty, and hate, and disdain. I swear, again and again, that +you shall not purchase these from me." + +"But, Philip--Philip," cried Beaufort, catching his arm; "hear one--hear +one who stood by your--" + +The sentence that would have saved the outcast from the demons that were +darkening and swooping round his soul, died upon the young Protector's +lips. Blinded, maddened, excited, and exasperated, almost out of +humanity itself, Philip fiercely--brutally--swung aside the enfeebled +form that sought to cling to him, and Beaufort fell at his feet. Morton +stopped--glared at him with clenched hands and a smiling lip, sprung over +his prostrate form, and bounded to his home. + +He slackened his pace as he neared the house, and looked behind; but +Beaufort had not followed him. He entered the house, and found Sidney in +the room, with a countenance so much more gay than that he had lately +worn, that, absorbed as he was in thought and passion, it yet did not +fail to strike him. + +"What has pleased you, Sidney?" The child smiled. + +"Ah! it is a secret--I was not to tell you. But I'm sure you are not the +naughty boy lie says you are." + +"He!--who?" + +"Don't look so angry, Philip: you frighten me!" + +"And you torture me. Who could malign one brother to the other?" + +"Oh! it was all meant very kindly--there's been such a nice, dear, good +gentleman here, and he cried when he saw me, and said he knew dear mamma. +Well, and he has promised to take me home with him and give me a pretty +pony--as pretty--as pretty--oh, as pretty as it can be got! And he is to +call again and tell me more: I think he is a fairy, Philip." + +"Did he say that he was to take me, too, Sidney?" said Morton, seating +himself, and looking very pale. At that question Sidney hung his head. + +"No, brother--he says you won't go, and that you are a bad boy--and that +you associate with wicked people--and that you want to keep me shut up +here and not let any one be good to me. But I told him I did not believe +that--yes, indeed, I told him so." + +And Sidney endeavoured caressingly to withdraw the hands that his brother +placed before his face. + +Morton started up, and walked hastily to and fro the room. "This," +thought he, "is another emissary of the Beauforts'--perhaps the lawyer: +they will take him from me--the last thing left to love and hope for. +I will foil them." + +"Sidney," he said aloud, "we must go hence today, this very hour-nay, +instantly." + +"What! away from this nice, good gentleman?" + +"Curse him! yes, away from him. Do not cry--it is of no use--you must +go." + +This was said more harshly than Philip had ever yet spoken to Sidney; and +when he had said it, he left the room to settle with the landlady, and to +pack up their scanty effects. In another hour, the brothers had turned +their backs on the town. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + "I'll carry thee + In sorrow's arms to welcome Misery." + + HEYWOOD's Duchess of Sufolk. + + "Who's here besides foul weather?" + SHAKSPEARE Lear. + +The sun was as bright and the sky as calm during the journey of the +orphans as in the last. They avoided, as before, the main roads, and +their way lay through landscapes that might have charmed a Gainsborough's +eye. Autumn scattered its last hues of gold over the various foliage, +and the poppy glowed from the hedges, and the wild convolvuli, here and +there, still gleamed on the wayside with a parting smile. + +At times, over the sloping stubbles, broke the sound of the sportsman's +gun; and ever and anon, by stream and sedge, they startled the shy wild +fowl, just come from the far lands, nor yet settled in the new haunts too +soon to be invaded. + +But there was no longer in the travellers the same hearts that had made +light of hardship and fatigue. Sidney was no longer flying from a harsh +master, and his step was not elastic with the energy of fear that looked +behind, and of hope that smiled before. He was going a toilsome, weary +journey, he knew not why nor whither; just, too, when he had made a +friend, whose soothing words haunted his childish fancy. He was +displeased with Philip, and in sullen and silent thoughtfulness slowly +plodded behind him; and Morton himself was gloomy, and knew not where in +the world to seek a future. + +They arrived at dusk at a small inn, not so far distant from the town +they had left as Morton could have wished; but the days were shorter than +in their first flight. + +They were shown into a small sanded parlour, which Sidney eyed with great +disgust; nor did he seem more pleased with the hacked and jagged leg of +cold mutton, which was all that the hostess set before them for supper. +Philip in vain endeavoured to cheer him up, and ate to set him the +example. He felt relieved when, under the auspices of a good-looking, +good-natured chambermaid, Sidney retired to rest, and he was left in the +parlour to his own meditations. Hitherto it had been a happy thing for +Morton that he had had some one dependent on him; that feeling had given +him perseverance, patience, fortitude, and hope. But now, dispirited and +sad, he felt rather the horror of being responsible for a human life, +without seeing the means to discharge the trust. It was clear, even to +his experience, that he was not likely to find another employer as facile +as Mr. Stubmore; and wherever he went, he felt as if his Destiny stalked +at his back. He took out his little fortune and spread it on the table, +counting it over and over; it had remained pretty stationary since his +service with Mr. Stubmore, for Sidney had swallowed up the wages of his +hire. While thus employed, the door opened, and the chambermaid, showing +in a gentleman, said, "We have no other room, sir." + +"Very well, then,--I'm not particular; a tumbler of braundy and water, +stiffish, cold without, the newspaper--and a cigar. You'll excuse smoking, +sir?" + +Philip looked up from his hoard, and Captain de Burgh Smith stood before +him. + +"Ah!" said the latter, "well met!" And closing the door, be took off +his great-coat, seated himself near Philip, and bent both his eves with +considerable wistfulness on the neat rows into which Philip's bank-notes, +sovereigns, and shillings were arrayed. + +"Pretty little sum for pocket money; caush in hand goes a great way, +properly invested. You must have been very lucky. Well, so I suppose +you are surprised to see me here without my pheaton?" + +"I wish I had never seen you at all," replied Philip, uncourteously, and +restoring his money to his pocket; "your fraud upon Mr. Stubmore, and +your assurance that you knew me, have sent me adrift upon the world." + +"What's one man's meat is another man's poison," said the captain, +philosophically; "no use fretting, care killed a cat. I am as badly off +as you; for, hang me, if there was not a Bow Street runner in the town. +I caught his eye fixed on me like a gimlet: so I bolted--went to N----, +left my pheaton and groom there for the present, and have doubled back, +to bauffle pursuit, and cut across the country. You recollect that voice +girl we saw in the coach; 'gad, I served her spouse that is to be a +praetty trick! Borrowed his money under pretence of investing it in the +New Grand Anti-Dry-Rot Company; cool hundred--it's only just gone, sir." + +Here the chambermaid entered with the brandy and water, the newspaper, +and cigar,--the captain lighted the last, took a deep sup from the +beverage, and said, gaily: + +"Well, now, let us join fortunes; we are both, as you say, 'adrift.' Best +way to staund the breeze is to unite the caubles." + +Philip shook his head, and, displeased with his companion, sought his +pillow. He took care to put his money under his head, and to lock his +door. + +The brothers started at daybreak; Sidney was even more discontented than +on the previous day. The weather was hot and oppressive; they rested for +some hours at noon, and in the cool of the evening renewed their way. +Philip had made up his mind to steer for a town in the thick of a hunting +district, where he hoped his equestrian capacities might again befriend +him; and their path now lay through a chain of vast dreary commons, which +gave them at least the advantage to skirt the road-side unobserved. But, +somehow or other, either Philip had been misinformed as to an inn where +he had proposed to pass the night, or he had missed it; for the clouds +darkened, and the sun went down, and no vestige of human habitation was +discernible. + +Sidney, footsore and querulous, began to weep, and declare that he could +stir no further; and while Philip, whose iron frame defied fatigue, +compassionately paused to rest his brother, a low roll of thunder broke +upon the gloomy air. "There will be a storm," said he, anxiously. "Come +on--pray, Sidney, come on." + +"It is so cruel in you, brother Philip," replied Sidney, sobbing. "I +wish I had never--never gone with you." + +A flash of lightning, that illuminated the whole heavens, lingered round +Sidney's pale face as he spoke; and Philip threw himself instinctively on +the child, as if to protect him even from the wrath of the unshelterable +flame. Sidney, hushed and terrified, clung to his brother's breast; +after a pause, he silently consented to resume their journey. But now +the storm came nearer and nearer to the wanderers. The darkness grew +rapidly more intense, save when the lightning lit up heaven and earth +alike with intolerable lustre. And when at length the rain began to fall +in merciless and drenching torrents, even Philip's brave heart failed +him. How could he ask Sidney to proceed, when they could scarcely see an +inch before them?--all that could now be done was to gain the high-road, +and hope for some passing conveyance. With fits and starts, and by the +glare of the lightning, they obtained their object; and stood at last on +the great broad thoroughfare, along which, since the day when the Roman +carved it from the waste, Misery hath plodded, and Luxury rolled, their +common way. + +Philip had stripped handkerchief, coat, vest, all to shelter Sidney; and +he felt a kind of strange pleasure through the dark, even to hear +Sidney's voice wail and moan. But that voice grew more languid and +faint--it ceased--Sidney's weight hung heavy--heavier on the fostering +arm. + +"For Heaven's sake, speak!--speak, Sidney!--only one word--I will carry +you in my arms!" + +"I think I am dying," replied Sidney, in a low murmur; "I am so tired and +worn out I can go no further--I must lie here." And he sank at once upon +the reeking grass beside the road.. At this time the rain gradually +relaxed, the clouds broke away--a grey light succeeded to the darkness +--the lightning was more distant; and the thunder rolled onward in its +awful path. Kneeling on the ground, Philip supported his brother in his +arms, and cast his pleading eyes upward to the softening terrors of the +sky. A star, a solitary star-broke out for one moment, as if to smile +comfort upon him, and then vanished. But lo! in the distance there +suddenly gleamed a red, steady light, like that in some solitary window; +it was no will-o'-the-wisp, it was too stationary--human shelter was then +nearer than he had thought for. He pointed to the light, and whispered, +"Rouse yourself, one struggle more--it cannot be far off." + +"It is impossible--I cannot stir," answered Sidney: and a sudden flash of +lightning showed his countenance, ghastly, as if with the damps of Death. +What could the brother do?--stay there, and see the boy perish before his +eyes? leave him on the road and fly to the friendly light? The last plan +was the sole one left, yet he shrank from it in greater terror than the +first. Was that a step that he heard across the road? He held his +breath to listen--a form became dimly visible--it approached. + +Philip shouted aloud. + +"What now?" answered the voice, and it seemed familiar to Morton's ear. +He sprang forward; and putting his face close to the wayfarer, thought to +recognise the features of Captain de Burgh Smith. The Captain, whose +eyes were yet more accustomed to the dark, made the first overture. + +"Why, my lad, is it you then? 'Gad, you froightened me!" + +Odious as this man had hitherto been to Philip, he was as welcome to him +as daylight now; he grasped his hand,--"My brother--a child--is here, +dying, I fear, with cold and fatigue; he cannot stir. Will you stay with +him--support him--but for a few moments, while I make to yon light? See, +I have money--plenty of money!" + +"My good lad, it is very ugly work staying here at this hour: still-- +where's the choild?" + +"Here, here! make haste, raise him! that's right! God bless you! I +shall be back ere you think me gone." + +He sprang from the road, and plunged through the heath, the furze, the +rank glistening pools, straight towards the light-as the swimmer towards +the shore. + +The captain, though a rogue, was human; and when life--an innocent life +--is at stake, even a rogue's heart rises up from its weedy bed. He +muttered a few oaths, it is true, but he held the child in his arms; and, +taking out a little tin case, poured some brandy down Sidney's throat and +then, by way of company, down his own. The cordial revived the boy; he +opened his eyes, and said, "I think I can go on now, Philip." + + . . . . . . . . + +We must return to Arthur Beaufort. He was naturally, though gentle, a +person of high spirit and not without pride. He rose from the ground +with bitter, resentful feelings and a blushing cheek, and went his way to +the hotel. Here he found Mr. Spencer just returned from his visit to +Sidney. Enchanted with the soft and endearing manners of his lost +Catherine's son, and deeply affected with the resemblance the child bore +to the mother as he had seen her last at the gay and rosy age of fair +sixteen, his description of the younger brother drew Beaufort's indignant +thoughts from the elder. He cordially concurred with Mr. Spencer in the +wish to save one so gentle from the domination of one so fierce; and +this, after all, was the child Catherine had most strongly commended to +him. She had said little of the elder; perhaps she had been aware of his +ungracious and untractable nature, and, as it seemed to Arthur Beaufort, +his predilections for a coarse and low career. + +"Yes," said he, "this boy, then, shall console me for the perverse +brutality of the other. He shall indeed drink of my cup, and eat of my +bread, and be to me as a brother." + +"What!" said Mr. Spencer, changing countenance, "you do not intend to +take Sidney to live with you. I meant him for my son--my adopted son." + +"No; generous as you are," said Arthur, pressing his hand, "this charge +devolves on me--it is my right. I am the orphan's relation--his mother +consigned him to me. But he shall be taught to love you not the less." + +Mr. Spencer was silent. He could not bear the thought of losing Sidney +as an inmate of his cheerless home, a tender relic of his early love. +From that moment he began to contemplate the possibility of securing +Sidney to himself, unknown to Beaufort. + +The plans both of Arthur and Spencer were interrupted by the sudden +retreat of the brothers. They determined to depart different ways in +search of them. Spencer, as the more helpless of the two, obtained the +aid of Mr. Sharp; Beaufort departed with the lawyer. + +Two travellers, in a hired barouche, were slowly dragged by a pair of +jaded posters along the commons I have just described. + +"I think," said one, "that the storm is very much abated; heigho! what an +unpleasant night!" + +"Unkimmon ugly, sir," answered the other; "and an awful long stage, +eighteen miles. These here remote places are quite behind the age, +sir--quite. However, I think we shall kitch them now." + +"I am very much afraid of that eldest boy, Sharp. He seems a dreadful +vagabond." + +"You see, sir, quite hand in glove with Dashing Jerry; met in the same +inn last night--preconcerted, you may be quite shure. It would be the +best day's job I have done this many a day to save that 'ere little +fellow from being corrupted. You sees he is just of a size to be useful +to these bad karakters. If they took to burglary, he would be a treasure +to them--slip him through a pane of glass like a ferret, sir." + +"Don't talk of it, Sharp," said Mr. Spencer, with a groan; "and +recollect, if we get hold of him, that you are not to say a word to Mr. +Beaufort." + +"I understand, sir; and I always goes with the gemman who behaves most +like a gemman." + +Here a loud halloo was heard close by the horses' heads. "Good Heavens, +if that is a footpad!" said Mr. Spencer, shaking violently. + +"Lord, sir, I have my barkers with me. Who's there?" The barouche +stopped--a man came to the window. "Excuse me, sir," said the stranger; +"but there is a poor boy here so tired and ill that I fear he will never +reach the next town, unless you will koindly give him a lift." + +"A poor boy!" said Mr. Spencer, poking his head over the head of Mr. +Sharp. "Where?" + +"If you would just drop him at the King's Awrms it would be a chaurity," +said the man. + +Sharp pinched Mr. Spencer in his shoulder. "That's Dashing Jerry; I'll +get out." So saying, he opened the door, jumped into the road, and +presently reappeared with the lost and welcome Sidney in his arms. +"Ben't this the boy?" he whispered to Mr. Spencer; and, taking the lamp +from the carriage, he raised it to the child's face. + +"It is! it is! God be thanked!" exclaimed the worthy man. + +"Will you leave him at the King's Awrms?--we shall be there in an hour or +two," cried the Captain. + +"We! Who's we?" said Sharp, gruffly. "Why, myself and the choild's +brother." + +"Oh!" said Sharp, raising the lantern to his own face; "you knows me, I +think, Master Jerry? Let me kitch you again, that's all. And give my +compliments to your 'sociate, and say, if he prosecutes this here hurchin +any more, we'll settle his bizness for him; and so take a hint and make +yourself scarce, old boy!" + +With that Mr. Sharp jumped into the barouche, and bade the postboy drive +on as fast as he could. + +Ten minutes after this abduction, Philip, followed by two labourers, with +a barrow, a lantern, and two blankets, returned from the hospitable farm +to which the light had conducted him. The spot where he had left Sidney, +and which he knew by a neighbouring milestone, was vacant; he shouted an +alarm, and the Captain answered from the distance of some threescore +yards. Philip came to him. "Where is my brother?" + +"Gone away in a barouche and pair. Devil take me if I understand it." +And the Captain proceeded to give a confused account of what had passed. + +"My brother! my brother! they have torn thee from me, then;" cried +Philip, and he fell to the earth insensible. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + "Vous me rendrez mon frere!" + CASIMER DELAVIGNE: _Les Enfans d'Edouard_. + + ['You shall restore me my brother!] + +One evening, a week after this event, a wild, tattered, haggard youth +knocked at the door of Mr. Robert Beaufort. The porter slowly presented +himself. + +"Is your master at home? I must see him instantly." "That's more than +you can, my man; my master does not see the like of you at this time of +night," replied the porter, eying the ragged apparition before him with +great disdain. + +"See me he must and shall," replied the young man; and as the porter +blocked up the entrance, he grasped his collar with a hand of iron, swung +him, huge as he was, aside, and strode into the spacious hall. + +"Stop! stop!" cried the porter, recovering himself. "James! John! +here's ago!" + +Mr. Robert Beaufort had been back in town several days. Mrs. Beaufort, +who was waiting his return from his club, was in the dining-room. +Hearing a noise in the hall, she opened the door, and saw the strange +grim figure I have described, advancing towards her. "Who are you?" +said she; "and what do you want?" + +"I am Philip Morton. Who are you?" + +"My husband," said Mrs. Beaufort, shrinking into the parlour, while +Morton followed her and closed the door, "my husband, Mr. Beaufort, is +not at home." + +"You are Mrs. Beaufort, then! Well, you can understand me. I want my +brother. He has been basely reft from me. Tell me where he is, and I +will forgive all. Restore him to me, and I will bless you and yours." +And Philip fell on his knees and grasped the train of her gown. "I know +nothing of your brother, Mr. Morton," cried Mrs. Beaufort, surprised and +alarmed. "Arthur, whom we expect every day, writes us word that all +search for him has been in vain." + +"Ha! you admit the search?" cried Morton, rising and clenching his +hands. "And who else but you or yours would have parted brother and +brother? Answer me where he is. No subterfuge, madam: I am desperate!" + +Mrs. Beaufort, though a woman of that worldly coldness and indifference +which, on ordinary occasions, supply the place of courage, was extremely +terrified by the tone and mien of her rude guest. She laid her hand on +the bell; but Morton seized her arm, and, holding it sternly, said, while +his dark eyes shot fire through the glimmering room, "I will not stir +hence till you have told me. Will you reject my gratitude, my blessing? +Beware! Again, where have you hid my brother?" + +At that instant the door opened, and Mr. Robert Beaufort entered. The +lady, with a shriek of joy, wrenched herself from Philip's grasp, and +flew to her husband. + +"Save me from this ruffian!" she said, with an hysterical sob. + +Mr. Beaufort, who had heard from Blackwell strange accounts of Philip's +obdurate perverseness, vile associates, and unredeemable character, was +roused from his usual timidity by the appeal of his wife. + +"Insolent reprobate!" he said, advancing to Philip; "after all the absurd +goodness of my son and myself; after rejecting all our offers, and +persisting in your miserable and vicious conduct, how dare you presume to +force yourself into this house? Begone, or I will send for the +constables to remove YOU! + +"Man, man," cried Philip, restraining the fury that shook him from head +to foot, "I care not for your threats--I scarcely hear your abuse--your +son, or yourself, has stolen away my brother: tell me only where he is; +let me see him once more. Do not drive me hence, without one word of +justice, of pity. I implore you--on my knees I implore you--yes, I,--I +implore you, Robert Beaufort, to have mercy on your brother's son. Where +is Sidney?" Like all mean and cowardly men, Robert Beaufort was rather +encouraged than softened by Philip's abrupt humility. + +"I know nothing of your brother; and if this is not all some villainous +trick--which it may be--I am heartily rejoiced that he, poor child! is +rescued from the contamination of such a companion," answered Beaufort. + +"I am at your feet still; again, for the last time, clinging to you a +suppliant: I pray you to tell me the truth." + +Mr. Beaufort, more and more exasperated by Morton's forbearance, raised +his hand as if to strike; when, at that moment, one hitherto unobserved-- +one who, terrified by the scene she had witnessed but could not +comprehend, had slunk into a dark corner of the room,--now came from her +retreat. And a child's soft voice was heard, saying: + +"Do not strike him, papa!--let him have his brother!" Mr. Beaufort's arm +fell to his side: kneeling before him, and by the outcast's side, was his +own young daughter; she had crept into the room unobserved, when her +father entered. Through the dim shadows, relieved only by the red and +fitful gleam of the fire, he saw her fair meek face looking up wistfully +at his own, with tears of excitement, and perhaps of pity--for children +have a quick insight into the reality of grief in those not far removed +from their own years--glistening in her soft eyes. Philip looked round +bewildered, and he saw that face which seemed to him, at such a time, +like the face of an angel. + +"Hear her!" he murmured: "Oh, hear her! For her sake, do not sever one +orphan from the other!" + +"Take away that child, Mrs. Beaufort," cried Robert, angrily. "Will you +let her disgrace herself thus? And you, sir, begone from this roof; and +when you can approach me with due respect, I will give you, as I said I +would, the means to get an honest living." + +Philip rose; Mrs. Beaufort had already led away her daughter, and she +took that opportunity of sending in the servants: their forms filled up +the doorway. + +"Will you go?" continued Mr. Beaufort, more and more emboldened, as he +saw the menials at hand, "or shall they expel you?" + +"It is enough, sir," said Philip, with a sudden calm and dignity that +surprised and almost awed his uncle. "My father, if the dead yet watch +over the living, has seen and heard you. There will come a day for +justice. Out of my path, hirelings!" + +He waved his arm, and the menials shrank back at his tread, stalked +across the inhospitable hall, and vanished. When he had gained the +street, he turned and looked up at the house. His dark and hollow eyes, +gleaming through the long and raven hair that fell profusely over his +face, had in them an expression of menace almost preternatural, from its +settled calmness; the wild and untutored majesty which, though rags and +squalor, never deserted his form, as it never does the forms of men in +whom the will is strong and the sense of injustice deep; the outstretched +arm the haggard, but noble features; the bloomless and scathed youth, all +gave to his features and his stature an aspect awful in its sinister and +voiceless wrath. There he stood a moment, like one to whom woe and wrong +have given a Prophet's power, guiding the eye of the unforgetful Fate to +the roof of the Oppressor. Then slowly, and with a half smile, he turned +away, and strode through the streets till he arrived at one of the narrow +lanes that intersect the more equivocal quarters of the huge city. He +stopped at the private entrance of a small pawnbroker's shop; the door +was opened by a slipshod boy; he ascended the dingy stairs till he came +to the second floor; and there, in a small back room, he found Captain de +Burgh Smith, seated before a table with a couple of candles on it, +smoking a cigar, and playing at cards by himself. + +"Well, what news of your brother, Bully Phil?" + +"None: they will reveal nothing." + +"Do you give him up?" + +"Never! My hope now is in you." + +"Well, I thought you would be driven to come to me, and I will do +something for you that I should not loike to do for myself. I told you +that I knew the Bow Street runner who was in the barouche. I will find +him out--Heaven knows that is easily done; and, if you can pay well, you +will get your news." + +"You shall have all I possess, if you restore my brother. See what it +is, one hundred pounds--it was his fortune. It is useless to me without +him. There, take fifty now, and if--" + +Philip stopped, for his voice trembled too much to allow him farther +speech. Captain Smith thrust the notes into his pocket, and said-- + +"We'll consider it settled." + +Captain Smith fulfilled his promise. He saw the Bow Street officer. Mr. +Sharp had been bribed too high by the opposite party to tell tales, and +he willingly encouraged the suspicion that Sidney was under the care of +the Beauforts. He promised, however, for the sake of ten guineas, to +procure Philip a letter from Sidney himself. This was all he would +undertake. + +Philip was satisfied. At the end of another week, Mr. Sharp transmitted +to the Captain a letter, which he, in his turn, gave to Philip. It ran +thus, in Sidney's own sprawling hand: + +"DEAR BROTHER PHILIP,--I am told you wish to know how I am, and therfore +take up my pen, and assure you that I write all out of my own head. I am +very Comfortable and happy--much more so than I have been since poor deir +mama died; so I beg you won't vex yourself about me: and pray don't try +and Find me out, For I would not go with you again for the world. I am +so much better Off here. I wish you would be a good boy, and leave off +your Bad ways; for I am sure, as every one says, I don't know what would +have become of me if I had staid with you. Mr. [the Mr. half scratched +out] the gentleman I am with, says if you turn out Properly, he will be a +friend to you, Too; but he advises you to go, like a Good boy, to Arthur +Beaufort, and ask his pardon for the past, and then Arthur will be very +kind to you. I send you a great Big sum of L20., and the gentleman says +he would send more, only it might make you naughty, and set up. I go to +church now every Sunday, and read good books, and always pray that God +may open your eyes. I have such a Nice Pony, with such a long tale. So +no more at present from your affectionate brother, SIDNEY MORTON." + +Oct. 8, 18-- + +"Pray, pray don't come after me Any more. You know I neerly died of it, +but for this deir good gentleman I am with." + +So this, then, was the crowning reward of all his sufferings and all his +love! There was the letter, evidently undictated, with its errors of +orthography, and in the child's rough scrawl; the serpent's tooth pierced +to the heart, and left there its most lasting venom. + +"I have done with him for ever," said Philip, brushing away the bitter +tears. "I will molest him no farther; I care no more to pierce this +mystery. Better for him as it is--he is happy! Well, well, and I--I +will never care for a human being again." + +He bowed his head over his hands; and when he rose, his heart felt to him +like stone. It seemed as if Conscience herself had fled from his soul on +the wings of departed Love. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + "But you have found the mountain's top--there sit + On the calm flourishing head of it; + And whilst with wearied steps we upward go, + See us and clouds below."--COWLEY. + +It was true that Sidney was happy in his new home, and thither we must +now trace him. + +On reaching the town where the travellers in the barouche had been +requested to leave Sidney, "The King's Arms" was precisely the inn +eschewed by Mr. Spencer. While the horses were being changed, he +summoned the surgeon of the town to examine the child, who had already +much recovered; and by stripping his clothes, wrapping him in warm +blankets, and administering cordials, he was permitted to reach another +stage, so as to baffle pursuit that night; and in three days Mr. Spencer +had placed his new charge with his maiden sisters, a hundred and fifty +miles from the spot where he had been found. He would not take him to +his own home yet. He feared the claims of Arthur Beaufort. He artfully +wrote to that gentleman, stating that he had abandoned the chase of +Sidney in despair, and desiring to know if he had discovered him; and a +bribe of L300. to Mr. Sharp with a candid exposition of his reasons for +secreting Sidney--reasons in which the worthy officer professed to +sympathise--secured the discretion of his ally. But he would not deny +himself the pleasure of being in the same house with Sidney, and was +therefore for some months the guest of his sisters. At length he heard +that young Beaufort had been ordered abroad for his health, and he then +deemed it safe to transfer his new idol to his _Lares_ by the lakes. +During this interval the current of the younger Morton's life had indeed +flowed through flowers. At his age the cares of females were almost a +want as well as a luxury, and the sisters spoiled and petted him as much +as any elderly nymphs in Cytherea ever petted Cupid. They were good, +excellent, high-nosed, flat-bosomed spinsters, sentimentally fond of +their brother, whom they called "the poet," and dotingly attached to +children. The cleanness, the quiet, the good cheer of their neat abode, +all tended to revive and invigorate the spirits of their young guest, and +every one there seemed to vie which should love him the most. Still his +especial favourite was Mr. Spencer: for Spencer never went out without +bringing back cakes and toys; and Spencer gave him his pony; and Spencer +rode a little crop-eared nag by his side; and Spencer, in short, was +associated with his every comfort and caprice. He told them his little +history; and when he said how Philip had left him alone for long hours +together, and how Philip had forced him to his last and nearly fatal +journey, the old maids groaned, and the old bachelor sighed, and they all +cried in a breath, that "Philip was a very wicked boy." It was not only +their obvious policy to detach him from his brother, but it was their +sincere conviction that they did right to do so. Sidney began, it is +true, by taking Philip's part; but his mind was ductile, and he still +looked back with a shudder to the hardships he had gone through: and so +by little and little he learned to forget all the endearing and fostering +love Philip had evinced to him; to connect his name with dark and +mysterious fears; to repeat thanksgivings to Providence that he was saved +from him; and to hope that they might never meet again. In fact, when +Mr. Spencer learned from Sharp that it was through Captain Smith, the +swindler, that application had been made by Philip for news of his +brother, and having also learned before, from the same person, that +Philip had been implicated in the sale of a horse, swindled, if not +stolen, he saw every additional reason to widen the stream that flowed +between the wolf and the lamb. The older Sidney grew, the better he +comprehended and appreciated the motives of his protector--for he was +brought up in a formal school of propriety and ethics, and his mind +naturally revolted from all images of violence or fraud. Mr. Spencer +changed both the Christian and the surname of his protege, in order to +elude the search whether of Philip, the Mortons, or the Beauforts, and +Sidney passed for his nephew by a younger brother who had died in India. + +So there, by the calm banks of the placid lake, amidst the fairest +landscapes of the Island Garden, the youngest born of Catherine passed +his tranquil days. The monotony of the retreat did not fatigue a spirit +which, as he grew up, found occupation in books, music, poetry, and the +elegances of the cultivated, if quiet, life within his reach. To the +rough past he looked back as to an evil dream, in which the image of +Philip stood dark and threatening. His brother's name as he grew older +he rarely mentioned; and if he did volunteer it to Mr. Spencer, the bloom +on his cheek grew paler. The sweetness of his manners, his fair face and +winning smile, still continued to secure him love, and to screen from the +common eye whatever of selfishness yet lurked in his nature. And, +indeed, that fault in so serene a career, and with friends so attached, +was seldom called into action. So thus was he severed from both the +protectors, Arthur and Philip, to whom poor Catherine had bequeathed him. + +By a perverse and strange mystery, they, to whom the charge was most +intrusted were the very persons who were forbidden to redeem it. On our +death-beds when we think we have provided for those we leave behind-- +should we lose the last smile that gilds the solemn agony, if we could +look one year into the Future? + +Arthur Beaufort, after an ineffectual search for Sidney, heard, on +returning to his home, no unexaggerated narrative of Philip's visit, and +listened, with deep resentment, to his mother's distorted account of the +language addressed to her. It is not to be surprised that, with all his +romantic generosity, he felt sickened and revolted at violence that +seemed to him without excuse. Though not a revengeful character, he had +not that meekness which never resents. He looked upon Philip Morton as +upon one rendered incorrigible by bad passions and evil company. Still +Catherine's last request, and Philip's note to him, the Unknown +Comforter, often recurred to him, and he would have willingly yet aided +him had Philip been thrown in his way. But as it was, when he looked +around, and saw the examples of that charity that begins at home, in +which the world abounds, he felt as if he had done his duty; and +prosperity having, though it could not harden his heart, still sapped the +habits of perseverance, so by little and little the image of the dying +Catherine, and the thought of her sons, faded from his remembrance. And +for this there was the more excuse after the receipt of an anonymous +letter, which relieved all his apprehensions on behalf of Sidney. The +letter was short, and stated simply that Sidney Morton had found a friend +who would protect him throughout life; but who would not scruple to apply +to Beaufort if ever he needed his assistance. So one son, and that the +youngest and the best loved, was safe. And the other, had he not chosen +his own career? Alas, poor Catherine! when you fancied that Philip was +the one sure to force his way into fortune, and Sidney the one most +helpless, how ill did you judge of the human heart! It was that very +strength of Philip's nature which tempted the winds that scattered the +blossoms, and shook the stem to its roots; while the lighter and frailer +nature bent to the gale, and bore transplanting to a happier soil. If a +parent read these pages, let him pause and think well on the characters +of his children; let him at once fear and hope the most for the one whose +passions and whose temper lead to a struggle with the world. That same +world is a tough wrestler, and has a bear's gripe. + +Meanwhile, Arthur Beaufort's own complaints, which grew serious and +menaced consumption, recalled his thoughts more and more every day to +himself. He was compelled to abandon his career at the University, and +to seek for health in the softer breezes of the South. His parents +accompanied him to Nice; and when, at the end of a few months, he was +restored to health, the desire of travel seized the mind and attracted +the fancy of the young heir. His father and mother, satisfied with his +recovery, and not unwilling that he should acquire the polish of +Continental intercourse, returned to England; and young Beaufort, with +gay companions and munificent income, already courted, spoiled, and +flattered, commenced his tour with the fair climes of Italy. + +So, O dark mystery of the Moral World!--so, unlike the order of the +External Universe, glide together, side by side, the shadowy steeds of +NIGHT AND MORNING. Examine life in its own world; confound not that +world, the inner one, the practical one, with the more visible, yet +airier and less substantial system, doing homage to the sun, to whose +throne, afar in the infinite space, the human heart has no wings to flee. +In life, the mind and the circumstance give the true seasons, and +regulate the darkness and the light. Of two men standing on the same +foot of earth, the one revels in the joyous noon, the other shudders in +the solitude of night. For Hope and Fortune, the day-star is ever +shining. For Care and Penury, Night changes not with the ticking of the +clock, nor with the shadow on the dial. Morning for the heir, night for +the houseless, and God's eye over both. + + + + + +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! + + + + + + +BOOK IV. + + +CHAPTER I. + + "O that sweet gleam of sunshine on the lake!" + WILSON'S _City of the Plague_ + +If, reader, you have ever looked through a solar microscope at the +monsters in a drop of water, perhaps you have wondered to yourself how +things so terrible have been hitherto unknown to you--you have felt a +loathing at the limpid element you hitherto deemed so pure--you have half +fancied that you would cease to be a water-drinker; yet, the next day you +have forgotten the grim life that started before you, with its countless +shapes, in that teeming globule; and, if so tempted by your thirst, you +have not shrunk from the lying crystal, although myriads of the horrible +Unseen are mangling, devouring, gorging each other in the liquid you so +tranquilly imbibe; so is it with that ancestral and master element called +Life. Lapped in your sleek comforts, and lolling on the sofa of your +patent conscience--when, perhaps for the first time, you look through the +glass of science upon one ghastly globule in the waters that heave +around, that fill up, with their succulence, the pores of earth, that +moisten every atom subject to your eyes or handled by your touch--you are +startled and dismayed; you say, mentally, "Can such things be? I never +dreamed of this before! I thought what was invisible to me was non- +existent in itself--I will remember this dread experiment." The next day +the experiment is forgotten.--The Chemist may purify the Globule--can +Science make pure the World? + +Turn we now to the pleasant surface, seen in the whole, broad and fair to +the common eye. Who would judge well of God's great designs, if he could +look on no drop pendent from the rose-tree, or sparkling in the sun, +without the help of his solar microscope? + +It is ten years after the night on which William Gawtrey perished:--I +transport you, reader, to the fairest scenes in England,--scenes +consecrated by the only true pastoral poetry we have known to +Contemplation and Repose. + +Autumn had begun to tinge the foliage on the banks of Winandermere. It +had been a summer of unusual warmth and beauty; and if that year you had +visited the English lakes, you might, from time to time, amidst the +groups of happy idlers you encountered, have singled out two persons for +interest, or, perhaps, for envy. Two who might have seemed to you in +peculiar harmony with those serene and soft retreats, both young--both +beautiful. Lovers you would have guessed them to be; but such lovers as +Fletcher might have placed under the care of his "Holy Shepherdess"-- +forms that might have reclined by + + "The virtuous well, about whose flowery banks + The nimble-footed fairies dance their rounds + By the pale moonshine." + +For in the love of those persons there seemed a purity and innocence that +suited well their youth and the character of their beauty. Perhaps, +indeed, on the girl's side, love sprung rather from those affections +which the spring of life throws upward to the surface, as the spring of +earth does its flowers, than from that concentrated and deep absorption +of self in self, which alone promises endurance and devotion, and of +which first love, or rather the first fancy, is often less susceptible +than that which grows out of the more thoughtful fondness of maturer +years. Yet he, the lover, was of so rare and singular a beauty, that he +might well seem calculated to awake, to the utmost, the love which wins +the heart through the eyes. + +But to begin at the beginning. A lady of fashion had, in the autumn +previous to the year in which our narrative re-opens, taken, with her +daughter, a girl then of about eighteen, the tour of the English lakes. +Charmed by the beauty of Winandermere, and finding one of the most +commodious villas on its banks to be let, they had remained there all the +winter. In the early spring a severe illness had seized the elder lady, +and finding herself, as she slowly recovered, unfit for the gaieties of a +London season, nor unwilling, perhaps,--for she had been a beauty in her +day--to postpone for another year the debut of her daughter, she had +continued her sojourn, with short intervals of absence, for a whole year. +Her husband, a busy man of the world, with occupation in London, and fine +estates in the country, joined them only occasionally, glad to escape the +still beauty of landscapes which brought him no rental, and therefore +afforded no charm to his eye. + +In the first month of their arrival at Winandermere, the mother and +daughter had made an eventful acquaintance in the following manner. + +One evening, as they were walking on their lawn, which sloped to the +lake, they heard the sound of a flute, played with a skill so exquisite +as to draw them, surprised and spellbound, to the banks. The musician +was a young man, in a boat, which he had moored beneath the trees of +their demesne. He was alone, or, rather, he had one companion, in a +large Newfoundland dog, that sat watchful at the helm of the boat, and +appeared to enjoy the music as much as his master. As the ladies +approached the spot, the dog growled, and the young man ceased, though +without seeing the fair causes of his companion's displeasure. The sun, +then setting, shone full on his countenance as he looked round; and that +countenance was one that might have haunted the nymphs of Delos; the face +of Apollo, not as the hero, but the shepherd--not of the bow, but of the +lute--not the Python-slayer, but the young dreamer by shady places--he +whom the sculptor has portrayed leaning idly against the tree--the boy- +god whose home is yet on earth, and to whom the Oracle and the Spheres +are still unknown. + +At that moment the dog leaped from the boat, and the elder lady uttered a +faint cry of alarm, which, directing the attention of the musician, +brought him also ashore. He called off his dog, and apologised, with a +not ungraceful mixture of diffidence and ease, for his intrusion. He was +not aware the place was inhabited--it was a favourite haunt of his--he +lived near. The elder lady was pleased with his address, and struck with +his appearance. There was, indeed, in his manner that indefinable charm, +which is more attractive than mere personal appearance, and which can +never be imitated or acquired. They parted, however, without +establishing any formal acquaintance. A few days after, they met at +dinner at a neighbouring house, and were introduced by name. That of the +young man seemed strange to the ladies; not so theirs to him. He turned +pale when he heard it, and remained silent and aloof the rest of the +evening. They met again and often; and for some weeks--nay, even for +months--he appeared to avoid, as much as possible, the acquaintance so +auspiciously begun; but, by little and little, the beauty of the younger +lady seemed to gain ground on his diffidence or repugnance. Excursions +among the neighbouring mountains threw them together, and at last he +fairly surrendered himself to the charm he had at first determined to +resist. + +This young man lived on the opposite side of the lake, in a quiet +household, of which he was the idol. His life had been one of almost +monastic purity and repose; his tastes were accomplished, his character +seemed soft and gentle; but beneath that calm exterior, flashes of +passion--the nature of the poet, ardent and sensitive--would break forth +at times. He had scarcely ever, since his earliest childhood, quitted +those retreats; he knew nothing of the world, except in books--books of +poetry and romance. Those with whom he lived--his relations, an old +bachelor, and the cold bachelor's sisters, old maids--seemed equally +innocent and inexperienced. It was a family whom the rich respected and +the poor loved--inoffensive, charitable, and well off. To whatever their +easy fortune might be, he appeared the heir. The name of this young man +was Charles Spencer; the ladies were Mrs. Beaufort, and Camilla her +daughter. + +Mrs. Beaufort, though a shrewd woman, did not at first perceive any +danger in the growing intimacy between Camilla and the younger Spencer. +Her daughter was not her favourite--not the object of her one thought or +ambition. Her whole heart and soul were wrapped in her son Arthur, who +lived principally abroad. Clever enough to be considered capable, when +he pleased, of achieving distinction, good-looking enough to be thought +handsome by all who were on the _qui vive_ for an advantageous match, +good-natured enough to be popular with the society in which he lived, +scattering to and fro money without limit,--Arthur Beaufort, at the age +of thirty, had established one of those brilliant and evanescent +reputations, which, for a few years, reward the ambition of the fine +gentleman. It was precisely the reputation that the mother could +appreciate, and which even the more saving father secretly admired, +while, ever respectable in phrase, Mr. Robert Beaufort seemed openly to +regret it. This son was, I say, everything to them; they cared little, +in comparison, for their daughter. How could a daughter keep up the +proud name of Beaufort? However well she might marry, it was another +house, not theirs, which her graces and beauty would adorn. Moreover, +the better she might marry the greater her dowry would naturally be,--the +dowry, to go out of the family! And Arthur, poor fellow! was so +extravagant, that really he would want every sixpence. Such was the +reasoning of the father. The mother reasoned less upon the matter. Mrs. +Beaufort, faded and meagre, in blonde and cashmere, was jealous of the +charms of her daughter; and she herself, growing sentimental and +lachrymose as she advanced in life, as silly women often do, had +convinced herself that Camilla was a girl of no feeling. + +Miss Beaufort was, indeed, of a character singularly calm and placid; it +was the character that charms men in proportion, perhaps, to their own +strength and passion. She had been rigidly brought up--her affections +had been very early chilled and subdued; they moved, therefore, now, with +ease, in the serene path of her duties. She held her parents, especially +her father, in reverential fear, and never dreamed of the possibility of +resisting one of their wishes, much less their commands. Pious, kind, +gentle, of a fine and never-ruffled temper, Camilla, an admirable +daughter, was likely to make no less admirable a wife; you might depend +on her principles, if ever you could doubt her affection. Few girls were +more calculated to inspire love. You would scarcely wonder at any folly, +any madness, which even a wise man might commit for her sake. This did +not depend on her beauty alone, though she was extremely lovely rather +than handsome, and of that style of loveliness which is universally +fascinating: the figure, especially as to the arms, throat, and bust, was +exquisite; the mouth dimpled; the teeth dazzling; the eyes of that velvet +softness which to look on is to love. But her charm was in a certain +prettiness of manner, an exceeding innocence, mixed with the most +captivating, because unconscious, coquetry. With all this, there was a +freshness, a joy, a virgin and bewitching candour in her voice, her +laugh--you might almost say in her very movements. Such was Camilla +Beaufort at that age. Such she seemed to others. To her parents she was +only a great girl rather in the way. To Mrs. Beaufort a rival, to Mr. +Beaufort an encumbrance on the property. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + * * * "The moon + Saddening the solemn night, yet with that sadness + Mingling the breath of undisturbed Peace." + WILSON: _City of the Plague_ + + * * * "Tell me his fate. + Say that he lives, or say that he is dead + But tell me--tell me! + * * * * * * + I see him not--some cloud envelopes him."--Ibid. + +One day (nearly a year after their first introduction) as with a party of +friends Camilla and Charles Spencer were riding through those wild and +romantic scenes which lie between the sunny Winandermere and the dark and +sullen Wastwater, their conversation fell on topics more personal than it +had hitherto done, for as yet, if they felt love, they had never spoken +of it. + +The narrowness of the path allowed only two to ride abreast, and the two +to whom I confine my description were the last of the little band. + +"How I wish Arthur were here!" said Camilla; "I am sure you would like +him." + +"Are you? He lives much in the world--the world of which I know nothing. +Are we then characters to suit each other?" + +"He is the kindest--the best of human beings!" said Camilla, rather +evasively, but with more warmth than usually dwelt in her soft and low +voice. + +"Is he so kind?" returned Spencer, musingly. "Well, it may be so. And +who would not be kind to you? Ah! it is a beautiful connexion that of +brother and sister--I never had a sister!" + +"Have you then a brother?" asked Camilla, in some surprise, and turning +her ingenuous eyes full on her companion. + +Spencer's colour rose--rose to his temples: his voice trembled as he +answered, "No;--no brother!" then, speaking in a rapid and hurried tone, +he continued, "My life has been a strange and lonely one. I am an +orphan. I have mixed with few of my own age: my boyhood and youth have +been spent in these scenes; my education such as Nature and books could +bestow, with scarcely any guide or tutor save my guardian--the dear old +man! Thus the world, the stir of cities, ambition, enterprise,--all seem +to me as things belonging to a distant land to which I shall never +wander. Yet I have had my dreams, Miss Beaufort; dreams of which these +solitudes still form a part--but solitudes not unshared. And lately I +have thought that those dreams might be prophetic. And you--do you love +the world?" + +"I, like you, have scarcely tried it," said Camilla, with a sweet laugh. +"but I love the country better,--oh! far better than what little I have +seen of towns. But for you," she continued with a charming hesitation, +"a man is so different from us,--for you to shrink from the world--you, +so young and with talents too--nay, it is true!--it seems to me strange." + +"It may be so, but I cannot tell you what feelings of dread--what vague +forebodings of terror seize me if I carry my thoughts beyond these +retreats. Perhaps my good guardian--" + +"Your uncle?" interrupted Camilla. + +"Ay, my uncle--may have contributed to engender feelings, as you say, +strange at my age; but still--" + +"Still what!" + +"My earlier childhood," continued Spencer, breathing hard and turning +pale, "was not spent in the happy home I have now; it was passed in a +premature ordeal of suffering and pain. Its recollections have left a +dark shadow on my mind, and under that shadow lies every thought that +points towards the troublous and labouring career of other men. But," he +resumed after a pause, and in a deep, earnest, almost solemn voice,--" +but after all, is this cowardice or wisdom? I find no monotony--no +tedium in this quiet life. Is there not a certain morality--a certain +religion in the spirit of a secluded and country existence? In it we do +not know the evil passions which ambition and strife are said to arouse. +I never feel jealous or envious of other men; I never know what it is to +hate; my boat, my horse, our garden, music, books, and, if I may dare to +say so, the solemn gladness that comes from the hopes of another life,-- +these fill up every hour with thoughts and pursuits, peaceful, happy, and +without a cloud, till of late, when--when--" + +"When what?" said Camilla, innocently. + +"When I have longed, but did not dare to ask another, if to share such a +lot would content her!" + +He bent, as he spoke, his soft blue eyes full upon the blushing face of +her whom he addressed, and Camilla half smiled and half sighed: + +"Our companions are far before us," said she, turning away her face, "and +see, the road is now smooth." She quickened her horse's pace as she said +this; and Spencer, too new to women to interpret favourably her evasion +of his words and looks, fell into a profound silence which lasted during +the rest of their excursion. + +As towards the decline of day he bent his solitary way home, emotions and +passions to which his life had hitherto been a stranger, and which, alas! +he had vainly imagined a life so tranquil would everlastingly restrain, +swelled his heart. + +"She does not love me," he muttered, half aloud; "she will leave me, and +what then will all the beauty of the landscape seem in my eyes? And how +dare I look up to her? Even if her cold, vain mother--her father, the +man, they say, of forms and scruples, were to consent, would they not +question closely of my true birth and origin? And if the one blot were +overlooked, is there no other? His early habits and vices, his?--a +brother's--his unknown career terminating at any day, perhaps, in shame, +in crime, in exposure, in the gibbet,--will they overlook this?" As he +spoke, he groaned aloud, and, as if impatient to escape himself, spurred +on his horse and rested not till he reached the belt of trim and sober +evergreens that surrounded his hitherto happy home. + +Leaving his horse to find its way to the stables, the young man passed +through rooms, which he found deserted, to the lawn on the other side, +which sloped to the smooth waters of the lake. + +Here, seated under the one large tree that formed the pride of the lawn, +over which it cast its shadow broad and far, he perceived his guardian +poring idly over an oft-read book, one of those books of which literary +dreamers are apt to grow fanatically fond--books by the old English +writers, full of phrases and conceits half quaint and half sublime, +interspersed with praises of the country, imbued with a poetical rather +than orthodox religion, and adorned with a strange mixture of monastic +learning and aphorisms collected from the weary experience of actual +life. + +To the left, by a greenhouse, built between the house and the lake, might +be seen the white dress and lean form of the eldest spinster sister, to +whom the care of the flowers--for she had been early crossed in love--was +consigned; at a little distance from her, the other two were seated at +work, and conversing in whispers, not to disturb their studious brother, +no doubt upon the nephew, who was their all in all. It was the calmest +hour of eve, and the quiet of the several forms, their simple and +harmless occupations--if occupations they might be called--the breathless +foliage rich in the depth of summer; behind, the old-fashioned house, +unpretending, not mean, its open doors and windows giving glimpses of the +comfortable repose within; before, the lake, without a ripple and +catching the gleam of the sunset clouds,--all made a picture of that +complete tranquillity and stillness, which sometimes soothes and +sometimes saddens us, according as we are in the temper to woo CONTENT. + +The young man glided to his guardian and touched his shoulder,--"Sir, may +I speak to you?--Hush! they need not see us now! it is only you I would +speak with." + +The elder Spencer rose; and, with his book still in his hand, moved side +by side with his nephew under the shadow of the tree and towards a walk +to the right, which led for a short distance along the margin of the +lake, backed by the interlaced boughs of a thick copse. + +"Sir!" said the young man, speaking first, and with a visible effort, +"your cautions have been in vain! I love this girl--this daughter of the +haughty Beauforts! I love her--better than life I love her!" + +"My poor boy," said the uncle tenderly, and with a simple fondness +passing his arm over the speaker's shoulder, "do not think I can chide +you--I know what it is to love in vain!" + +"In vain!--but why in vain?" exclaimed the younger Spencer, with a +vehemence that had in it something of both agony and fierceness. "She +may love me--she shall love me!" and almost for the first time in his +life, the proud consciousness of his rare gifts of person spoke in his +kindled eye and dilated stature. "Do they not say that Nature has been +favourable to me?--What rival have I here?--Is she not young?--And +(sinking his voice till it almost breathed like music) is not love +contagious?" + +"I do not doubt that she may love you--who would not?--but--but--the +parents, will they ever consent?" "Nay!" answered the lover, as with +that inconsistency common to passion, he now argued stubbornly against +those fears in another to which he had just before yielded in himself,-- +"Nay!--after all, am I not of their own blood?--Do I not come from the +elder branch?--Was I not reared in equal luxury and with higher hopes?-- +And my mother--my poor mother--did she not to the last maintain our +birthright--her own honour?--Has not accident or law unjustly stripped us +of our true station?--Is it not for us to forgive spoliation?--Am I not, +in fact, the person who descends, who forgets the wrongs of the dead--the +heritage of the living?" + +The young man had never yet assumed this tone--had never yet shown that +he looked back to the history connected with his birth with the feelings +of resentment and the remembrance of wrong. It was a tone contrary to +his habitual calm and contentment--it struck forcibly on his listener-- +and the elder Spencer was silent for some moments before he replied, "If +you feel thus (and it is natural), you have yet stronger reason to +struggle against this unhappy affection." + +"I have been conscious of that, sir," replied the young man, mournfully. +"I have struggled!--and I say again it is in vain! I turn, then, to face +the obstacles! My birth--let us suppose that the Beauforts overlook it. +Did you not tell me that Mr. Beaufort wrote to inform you of the abrupt +and intemperate visit of my brother--of his determination never to +forgive it? I think I remember something of this years ago." + +"It is true!" said the guardian; "and the conduct of that brother is, in +fact, the true cause why you never ought to reassume your proper name!-- +never to divulge it, even to the family with whom you connect yourself by +marriage; but, above all, to the Beauforts, who for that cause, if that +cause alone, would reject your suit." + +The young man groaned--placed one hand before his eyes, and with the +other grasped his guardian's arm convulsively, as if to check him from +proceeding farther; but the good man, not divining his meaning, and +absorbed in his subject, went on, irritating the wound he had touched. + +"Reflect!--your brother in boyhood--in the dying hours of his mother, +scarcely saved from the crime of a thief, flying from a friendly pursuit +with a notorious reprobate; afterwards implicated in some discreditable +transaction about a horse, rejecting all--every hand that could save him, +clinging by choice to the lowest companions and the meanest-habits, +disappearing from the country, and last seen, ten years ago--the beard +not yet on his chin--with that same reprobate of whom I have spoken, in +Paris; a day or so only before his companion, a coiner--a murderer--fell +by the hands of the police! You remember that when, in your seventeenth +year, you evinced some desire to retake your name--nay, even to re-find +that guilty brother--I placed before you, as a, sad, and terrible duty, +the newspaper that contained the particulars of the death and the former +adventures of that wretched accomplice, the notorious Gawtrey. And,-- +telling you that Mr. Beaufort had long since written to inform me that +his own son and Lord Lilburne had seen your brother in company with the +miscreant just before his fate--nay, was, in all probability, the very +youth described in the account as found in his chamber and escaping the +pursuit--I asked you if you would now venture to leave that disguise-- +that shelter under which you would for ever be safe from the opprobrium +of the world--from the shame that, sooner or later, your brother must +bring upon your name!" + +"It is true--it is true!" said the pretended nephew, in a tone of great +anguish, and with trembling lips which the blood had forsaken. "Horrible +to look either to his past or his future! But--but--we have heard of him +no more--no one ever has learned his fate. Perhaps--perhaps" (and he +seemed to breathe more freely)--"my brother is no more!" + +And poor Catherine--and poor Philip---had it come to this? Did the one +brother feel a sentiment of release, of joy, in conjecturing the death-- +perhaps the death of violence and shame--of his fellow-orphan? Mr. +Spencer shook his head doubtingly, but made no reply. The young man +sighed heavily, and strode on for several paces in advance of his +protector, then, turning back, he laid his hand on his shoulder. + +"Sir," he said in a low voice and with downcast eyes, you are right: this +disguise--this false name--must be for ever borne! Why need the +Beauforts, then, ever know who and what I am? Why not as your nephew-- +nephew to one so respected and exemplary--proffer my claims and plead my +cause?" + +"They are proud--so it is said--and worldly;--you know my family was in +trade--still--but--" and here Mr. Spencer broke off from a tone of doubt +into that of despondency, "but, recollect, though Mrs. Beaufort may not +remember the circumstance, both her husband and her son have seen me-- +have known my name. Will they not suspect, when once introduced to you, +the stratagem that has been adopted?--Nay, has it not been from that very +fear that you have wished me to shun the acquaintance of the family? +Both Mr. Beaufort and Arthur saw you in childhood, and their suspicion +once aroused, they may recognise you at once; your features are +developed, but not altogether changed. Come, come!--my adopted, my dear +son, shake off this fantasy betimes: let us change the scene: I will +travel with you--read with you--go where--" + +"Sir--sir!" exclaimed the lover, smiting his breast, "you are ever kind, +compassionate, generous; but do not--do not rob me of hope. I have +never--thanks to you--felt, save in a momentary dejection, the curse of +my birth. Now how heavily it falls! Where shall I look for comfort?" + +As he spoke, the sound of a bell broke over the translucent air and the +slumbering lake: it was the bell that every eve and morn summoned that +innocent and pious family to prayer. The old man's face changed as he +heard it--changed from its customary indolent, absent, listless aspect, +into an expression of dignity, even of animation. + +"Hark!" he said, pointing upwards; "Hark! it chides you. Who shall say, +'Where shall I look for comfort' while God is in the heavens?" + +The young man, habituated to the faith and observance of religion, till +they had pervaded his whole nature, bowed his head in rebuke; a few tears +stole from his eyes. + +"You are right, father--," he said tenderly, giving emphasis to the +deserved and endearing name. "I am comforted already!" + +So, side by side, silently and noiselessly, the young and the old man +glided back to the house. When they gained the quiet room in which the +family usually assembled, the sisters and servants were already gathered +round the table. They knelt as the loiterers entered. It was the wonted +duty of the younger Spencer to read the prayers; and, as he now did so, +his graceful countenance more hushed, his sweet voice more earnest than +usual, in its accents: who that heard could have deemed the heart within +convulsed by such stormy passions? Or was it not in that hour--that +solemn commune--soothed from its woe? O beneficent Creator! thou who +inspirest all the tribes of earth with the desire to pray, hast Thou not, +in that divinest instinct, bestowed on us the happiest of Thy gifts? + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + "Bertram. I mean the business is not ended, as fearing to hear of + it hereafter. + + "1st Soldier. Do you know this Captain Dumain?" + _All's Well that Ends Well_. + +One evening, some weeks after the date of the last chapter, Mr. Robert +Beaufort sat alone in his house in Berkeley Square. He had arrived that +morning from Beaufort Court, on his way to Winandermere, to which he was +summoned by a letter from his wife. That year was an agitated and +eventful epoch in England; and Mr. Beaufort had recently gone through the +bustle of an election--not, indeed, contested; for his popularity and his +property defied all rivalry in his own county. + +The rich man had just dined, and was seated in lazy enjoyment by the side +of the fire, which he had had lighted, less for the warmth--though it was +then September--than for the companionship;--engaged in finishing his +madeira, and, with half-closed eyes, munching his devilled biscuits. +"I am sure," he soliloquised while thus employed, "I don't know exactly +what to do,--my wife ought to decide matters where the girl is concerned; +a son is another affair--that's the use of a wife. Humph!" + +"Sir," said a fat servant, opening the door, "a gentleman wishes to see +you upon very particular business." + +"Business at this hour! Tell him to go to Mr. Blackwell." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Stay! perhaps he is a constituent, Simmons. Ask him if he belongs to +the county." + +"Yes, Sir." + +"A great estate is a great plague," muttered Mr. Beaufort; "so is a great +constituency. It is pleasanter, after all, to be in the House of Lords. +I suppose I could if I wished; but then one must rat--that's a bore. I +will consult Lilburne. Humph!" + +The servant re-appeared. "Sir, he says he does belong to the county." + +"Show him in!--What sort of a person?" + +"A sort of gentleman, sir; that is," continued the butler, mindful of +five shillings just slipped within his palm by the stranger, "quite the +gentleman." + +"More wine, then-stir up the fire." + +In a few moments the visitor was ushered into the apartment. He was a +man between fifty and sixty, but still aiming at the appearance of youth. +His dress evinced military pretensions; consisting of a blue coat, +buttoned up to the chin, a black stock, loose trousers of the fashion +called Cossacks, and brass spurs. He wore a wig, of great luxuriance in +curl and rich auburn in hue; with large whiskers of the same colour +slightly tinged with grey at the roots. By the imperfect light of the +room it was not perceptible that the clothes were somewhat threadbare, +and that the boots, cracked at the side, admitted glimpses of no very +white hosiery within. Mr. Beaufort, reluctantly rising from his repose +and gladly sinking back to it, motioned to a chair, and put on a doleful +and doubtful semi-smile of welcome. The servant placed the wine and +glasses before the stranger;--the host and visitor were alone. + +"So, sir," said Mr. Beaufort, languidly, "you are from ------shire; I +suppose about the canal,--may I offer you a glass of wine?" + +"Most hauppy, sir--your health!" and the stranger, with evident +satisfaction, tossed off a bumper to so complimentary a toast. + +"About the canal?" repeated Mr. Beaufort. + +"No, sir, no! You parliament gentlemen must hauve a vaust deal of +trouble on your haunds--very foine property I understaund yours is, sir. +Sir, allow me to drink the health of your good lady!" + +"I thank you, Mr.--, Mr.--, what did you say your name was?--I beg you a +thousand pardons." + +"No offaunce in the least, sir; no ceremony with me--this is perticler +good madeira!" + +"May I ask how I can serve you?" said Mr. Beaufort, struggling between +the sense of annoyance and the fear to be uncivil. "And pray, had I the +honour of your vote in the last election!" + +"No, sir, no! It's mauny years since I have been in your part of the +world, though I was born there." + +"Then I don't exactly see--" began Mr. Beaufort, and stopped with +dignity. + +"Why I call on you," put in the stranger, tapping his boots with his +cane; and then recognising the rents, he thrust both feet under the +table. + +"I don't say that; but at this hour I am seldom at leisure--not but what +I am always at the service of a constituent, that is, a voter! Mr.--, I +beg your pardon, I did not catch your name." + +"Sir," said the stranger, helping himself to a third glass of wine; +"here's a health to your young folk! And now to business." Here the +visitor, drawing his chair nearer to his host, assuming a more grave +aspect, and dropping something of his stilted pronunciation, continued, +"You had a brother?" + +"Well, sir," said Mr. Beaufort, with a very changed countenance. + +"And that brother had a wife!" + +Had a cannon gone off in the ear of Mr. Robert Beaufort, it could not +have shocked or stunned him more than that simple word with which his +companion closed his sentence. He fell back in his chair--his lips +apart, his eyes fixed on the stranger. He sought to speak, but his +tongue clove to his mouth. + +"That wife had two sons, born in wedlock!" + +"It is false!" cried Mr. Beaufort, finding a voice at length, and +springing to his feet. "And who are you, sir? and what do you mean +by--" + +"Hush!" said the stranger, perfectly unconcerned, and regaining the +dignity of his haw-haw enunciation, "better not let the servants hear +aunything. For my pawt, I think servants hauve the longest pair of ears +of auny persons, not excepting jauckasses; their ears stretch from the +pauntry to the parlour. Hush, sir!--perticler good madeira, this!" + +"Sir!" said Mr. Beaufort, struggling to preserve, or rather recover, his +temper, "your conduct is exceedingly strange; but allow me to say that +you are wholly misinformed. My brother never did marry; and if you have +anything to say on behalf of those young men--his natural sons--I refer +you to my solicitor, Mr. Blackwell, of Lincoln's Inn. I wish you a good +evening." + +"Sir!--the same to you--I won't trouble you auny farther; it was only out +of koindness I called--I am not used to be treated so--sir, I am in his +maujesty's service--sir, you will foind that the witness of the marriage +is forthcoming; you will think of me then, and, perhaps, be sorry. But +I've done, 'Your most obedient humble, sir!'" And the stranger, with a +flourish of his hand, turned to the door. At the sight of this +determination on the part of his strange guest, a cold, uneasy, vague +presentiment seized Mr. Beaufort. There, not flashed, but rather froze, +across him the recollection of his brother's emphatic but disbelieved +assurances--of Catherine's obstinate assertion of her son's alleged +rights--rights which her lawsuit, undertaken on her own behalf, had not +compromised;--a fresh lawsuit might be instituted by the son, and the +evidence which had been wanting in the former suit might be found at +last. With this remembrance and these reflections came a horrible train +of shadowy fears,--witnesses, verdict, surrender, spoliation--arrears-- +ruin! + +The man, who had gained the door, turned back and looked at him with a +complacent, half-triumphant leer upon his impudent, reckless face. + +"Sir," then said Mr. Beaufort, mildly, "I repeat that you had better see +Mr. Blackwell." + +The tempter saw his triumph. "I have a secret to communicate which it is +best for you to keep snug. How mauny people do you wish me to see about +it? Come, sir, there is no need of a lawyer; or, if you think so, tell +him yourself. Now or never, Mr. Beaufort." + +"I can have no objection to hear anything you have to say, sir," said the +rich man, yet more mildly than before; and then added, with a forced +smile, "though my rights are already too confirmed to admit of a doubt." + +Without heeding the last assertion, the stranger coolly walked back, +resumed his seat, and, placing both arms on the table and looking Mr. +Beaufort full in the face, thus proceeded,-- + +"Sir, of the marriage between Philip Beaufort and Catherine Morton there +were two witnesses: the one is dead, the other went abroad--the last is +alive still!" + +"If so," said Mr. Beaufort, who, not naturally deficient in cunning and +sense, felt every faculty now prodigiously sharpened, and was resolved to +know the precise grounds for alarm,--"if so, why did not the man--it was +a servant, sir, a man-servant, whom Mrs. Morton pretended to rely on-- +appear on the trial?" + +"Because, I say, he was abroad and could not be found; or, the search +after him miscaurried, from clumsy management and a lack of the rhino." + +"Hum!" said Mr. Beaufort--"one witness--one witness, observe, there _is_ +only one!--does not alarm me much. It is not what a man deposes, it is +what a jury believe, sir! Moreover, what has become of the young men? +They have never been heard of for years. They are probably dead; if so, +I am heir-at-law!" + +"I know where one of them is to be found at all events." + +"The elder?--Philip?" asked Mr. Beaufort anxiously, and with a fearful +remembrance of the energetic and vehement character prematurely exhibited +by his nephew. + +"Pawdon me! I need not aunswer that question." + +"Sir! a lawsuit of this nature, against one in possession, is very +doubtful, and," added the rich man, drawing himself up--"and, perhaps +very expensive!" + +"The young man I speak of does not want friends, who will not grudge the +money." + +"Sir!" said Mr. Beaufort, rising and placing his back to the fire--"sir! +what is your object in this communication? Do you come, on the part of +the young man, to propose a compromise? If so, be plain!" + +"I come on my own pawt. It rests with you to say if the young men shall +never know it!" + +"And what do you want?" + +"Five hundred a year as long as the secret is kept." + +"And how can you prove that there is a secret, after all?" + +"By producing the witness if you wish." + +"Will he go halves in the L500. a year?" asked Mr. Beaufort artfully. + +"That is moy affair, sir," replied the stranger. + +"What you say," resumed Mr. Beaufort, "is so extraordinary--so +unexpected, and still, to me, seems so improbable, that I must have time +to consider. If you will call on me in a week, and produce your facts, I +will give you my answer. I am not the man, sir, to wish to keep any one +out of his true rights, but I will not yield, on the other hand, to +imposture." + +"If you don't want to keep them out of their rights, I'd best go and tell +my young gentlemen," said the stranger, with cool impudence. + +"I tell you I must have time," repeated Beaufort, disconcerted. +"Besides, I have not myself alone to look to, sir," he added, with +dignified emphasis--"I am a father!" + +"This day week I will call on you again. Good evening, Mr. Beaufort!" + +And the man stretched out his hand with an air of amicable condescension. +The respectable Mr. Beaufort changed colour, hesitated, and finally +suffered two fingers to be enticed into the grasp of the visitor, whom he +ardently wished at that bourne whence no visitor returns. + +The stranger smiled, stalked to the door, laid his finger on his lip, +winked knowingly, and vanished, leaving Mr. Beaufort a prey to such +feelings of uneasiness, dread, and terror, as may be experienced by a man +whom, on some inch or two of slippery rock, the tides have suddenly +surrounded. + +He remained perfectly still for some moments, and then glancing round the +dim and spacious room, his eyes took in all the evidences of luxury and +wealth which it betrayed. Above the huge sideboard, that on festive days +groaned beneath the hoarded weight of the silver heirlooms of the +Beauforts, hung, in its gilded frame, a large picture of the family seat, +with the stately porticoes--the noble park--the groups of deer; and +around the wall, interspersed here and there with ancestral portraits of +knight and dame, long since gathered to their rest, were placed +masterpieces of the Italian and Flemish art, which generation after +generation had slowly accumulated, till the Beaufort Collection had +become the theme of connoisseurs and the study of young genius. + +The still room, the dumb pictures--even the heavy sideboard seemed to +gain voice, and speak to him audibly. He thrust his hand into the folds +of his waistcoat, and griped his own flesh convulsively; then, striding +to and fro the apartment, he endeavoured to re-collect his thoughts. + +"I dare not consult Mrs. Beaufort," he muttered; "no--no,--she is a fool! +Besides, she's not in the way. No time to lose--I will go to Lilburne." + +Scarce had that thought crossed him than he hastened to put it into +execution. He rang for his hat and gloves and sallied out on foot to +Lord Lilburne's house in Park Lane,--the distance was short, and +impatience has long strides. + +He knew Lord Lilburne was in town, for that personage loved London for +its own sake; and even in September he would have said with the old Duke +of Queensberry, when some one observed that London was very empty--"Yes; +but it is fuller than the country." + +Mr. Beaufort found Lord Lilburne reclined on a sofa, by the open window +of his drawing-room, beyond which the early stars shone upon the +glimmering trees and silver turf of the deserted park. Unlike the simple +dessert of his respectable brother-in-law, the costliest fruits, the +richest wines of France, graced the small table placed beside his sofa; +and as the starch man of forms and method entered the room at one door, a +rustling silk, that vanished through the aperture of another, seemed to +betray tokens of a _tete-a-tete_, probably more agreeable to Lilburne +than the one with which only our narrative is concerned. + +It would have been a curious study for such men as love to gaze upon the +dark and wily features of human character, to have watched the contrast +between the reciter and the listener, as Beaufort, with much +circumlocution, much affected disdain and real anxiety, narrated the +singular and ominous conversation between himself and his visitor. + +The servant, in introducing Mr. Beaufort, had added to the light of the +room; and the candles shone full on the face and form of Mr. Beaufort. +All about that gentleman was so completely in unison with the world's +forms and seemings, that there was something moral in the very sight of +him! Since his accession of fortune he had grown less pale and less +thin; the angles in his figure were filled up. On his brow there was no +trace of younger passion. No able vice had ever sharpened the +expression--no exhausting vice ever deepened the lines. He was the beau- +ideal of a county member,--so sleek, so staid, so business-like; yet so +clean, so neat, so much the gentleman. And now there was a kind of +pathos in his grey hairs, his nervous smile, his agitated hands, his +quick and uneasy transition of posture, the tremble of his voice. He +would have appeared to those who saw, but heard not, The Good Man in +trouble. Cold, motionless, speechless, seemingly apathetic, but in truth +observant, still reclined on the sofa, his head thrown back, but one eye +fixed on his companion, his hands clasped before him, Lord Lilburne +listened; and in that repose, about his face, even about his person, +might be read the history of how different a life and character! What +native acuteness in the stealthy eye! What hardened resolve in the full +nostril and firm lips! What sardonic contempt for all things in the +intricate lines about the mouth. What animal enjoyment of all things so +despised in that delicate nervous system, which, combined with original +vigour of constitution, yet betrayed itself in the veins on the hands and +temples, the occasional quiver of the upper lip! His was the frame above +all others the most alive to pleasure--deep-chested, compact, sinewy, but +thin to leanness--delicate in its texture and extremities, almost to +effeminacy. The indifference of the posture, the very habit of the dress +--not slovenly, indeed, but easy, loose, careless--seemed to speak of the +man's manner of thought and life--his profound disdain of externals. + +Not till Beaufort had concluded did Lord Lilburne change his position or +open his lips; and then, turning to his brother-in-law his calm face, he +said drily,-- + +"I always thought your brother had married that woman; he was the sort of +man to do it. Besides, why should she have gone to law without a vestige +of proof, unless she was convinced of her rights? Imposture never +proceeds without some evidence. Innocence, like a fool as it is, fancies +it has only to speak to be believed. But there is no cause for alarm." + +"No cause!--And yet you think there was a marriage." + +"It is quite clear," continued Lilburne, without heeding this +interruption; "that the man, whatever his evidence, has not got +sufficient proofs. If he had, he would go to the young men rather than +you: it is evident that they would promise infinitely larger rewards than +he could expect from yourself. Men are always more generous with what +they expect than with what they have. All rogues know this. 'Tis the +way Jews and usurers thrive upon heirs rather than possessors; 'tis the +philosophy of post-obits. I dare say the man has found out the real +witness of the marriage, but ascertained, also, that the testimony of +that witness would not suffice to dispossess you. He might be +discredited--rich men have a way sometimes of discrediting poor +witnesses. Mind, he says nothing of the lost copy of the register-- +whatever may be the value of that document, which I am not lawyer enough +to say--of any letters of your brother avowing the marriage. Consider, +the register itself is destroyed--the clergyman dead. Pooh! make +yourself easy." + +"True," said Mr. Beaufort, much comforted; "what a memory you have!" + +"Naturally. Your wife is my sister--I hate poor relations--and I was +therefore much interested in your accession and your lawsuit. No--you +may feel--at rest on this matter, so far as a successful lawsuit is +concerned. The next question is, Will you have a lawsuit at all? and is +it worth while buying this fellow? That I can't say unless I see him +myself." + +"I wish to Heaven you would!" + +"Very willingly: 'tis a sort of thing I like--I'm fond of dealing with +rogues--it amuses me. This day week? I'll be at your house--your proxy; +I shall do better than Black well. And since you say you are wanted at +the Lakes, go down, and leave all to me." + +"A thousand thanks. I can't say how grateful I am. You certainly are +the kindest and cleverest person in the world." + +"You can't think worse of the world's cleverness and kindness than I do," +was Lilburne's rather ambiguous answer to the compliment. "But why does +my sister want to see you?" + +"Oh, I forgot!--here is her letter. I was going to ask your advice in +this too." + +Lord Lilburne took the letter, and glanced over it with the rapid eye of +a man accustomed to seize in everything the main gist and pith. + +"An offer to my pretty niece--Mr. Spencer--requires no fortune--his uncle +will settle all his own--(poor silly old man!) All! Why that's only +L1000. a year. You don't think much of this, eh? How my sister can even +ask you about it puzzles me." + +"Why, you see, Lilburne," said Mr. Beaufort, rather embarrassed, "there +is no question of fortune--nothing to go out of the family; and, really, +Arthur is so expensive, and, if she were to marry well, I could not give +her less than fifteen or twenty thousand pounds." + +"Aha!--I see--every man to his taste: here a daughter--there a dowry. +You are devilish fond of money, Beaufort. Any pleasure in avarice,--eh?" + +Mr. Beaufort coloured very much at the remark and the question, and, +forcing a smile, said,-- + +"You are severe. But you don't know what it is to be father to a young +man." + +"Then a great many young women have told me sad fibs! But you are right +in your sense of the phrase. No, I never had an heir apparent, thank +Heaven! No children imposed upon me by law--natural enemies, to count +the years between the bells that ring for their majority, and those that +will toll for my decease. It is enough for me that I have a brother and +a sister--that my brother's son will inherit my estates--and that, in the +meantime, he grudges me every tick in that clock. What then? If he had +been my uncle, I had done the same. Meanwhile, I see as little of him as +good breeding will permit. On the face of a rich man's heir is written +the rich man's _memento mori_! But _revenons a nos moutons_. Yes, if +you give your daughter no fortune, your death will be so much the more +profitable to Arthur!" + +"Really, you take such a very odd view of the matter," said Mr. Beaufort, +exceedingly shocked. "But I see you don't like the marriage; perhaps you +are right." + +"Indeed, I have no choice in the matter; I never interfere between father +and children. If I had children myself, I will, however, tell you, for +your comfort, that they might marry exactly as they pleased--I would +never thwart them. I should be too happy to get them out of my way. If +they married well, one would have all the credit; if ill, one would have +an excuse to disown them. As I said before, I dislike poor relations. +Though if Camilla lives at the Lakes when she is married, it is but a +letter now and then; and that's your wife's trouble, not yours. But, +Spencer--what Spencer!--what family? Was there not a Mr. Spencer who +lived at Winandermere--who----" + +"Who went with us in search of these boys, to be sure. Very likely the +same--nay, he must be so. I thought so at the first." + +"Go down to the Lakes to-morrow. You may hear something about your +nephews;" at that word Mr. Beaufort winced. + +"'Tis well to be forearmed." + +"Many thanks for all your counsel," said Beaufort, rising, and glad to +escape; for though both he and his wife held the advice of Lord Lilburne +in the highest reverence, they always smarted beneath the quiet and +careless stings which accompanied the honey. Lord Lilburne was singular +in this,--he would give to any one who asked it, but especially a +relation, the best advice in his power; and none gave better, that is, +more worldly advice. Thus, without the least benevolence, he was often +of the greatest service; but he could not help mixing up the draught with +as much aloes and bitter-apple as possible. His intellect delighted in +exhibiting itself even gratuitously. His heart equally delighted in that +only cruelty which polished life leaves to its tyrants towards their +equals,--thrusting pins into the feelings and breaking self-love upon the +wheel. But just as Mr. Beaufort had drawn on his gloves and gained the +doorway, a thought seemed to strike Lord Lilburne: + +"By the by," he said, "you understand that when I promised I would try +and settle the matter for you, I only meant that I would learn the exact +causes you have for alarm on the one hand, or for a compromise with this +fellow on the other. If the last be advisable you are aware that I +cannot interfere. I might get into a scrape; and Beaufort Court is not +my property." + +"I don't quite understand you." + +"I am plain enough, too. If there is money to be given it is given in +order to defeat what is called justice--to keep these nephews of yours +out of their inheritance. Now, should this ever come to light, it would +have an ugly appearance. They who risk the blame must be the persons who +possess the estate." + +"If you think it dishonourable or dishonest--" said Beaufort, +irresolutely. + +"I! I never can advise as to the feelings; I can only advise as to the +policy. If you don't think there ever was a marriage, it may, still, be +honest in you to prevent the bore of a lawsuit." + +"But if he can prove to me that they were married?" + +"Pooh!" said Lilburne, raising his eyebrows with a slight expression of +contemptuous impatience; "it rests on yourself whether or not he prove it +to YOUR satisfaction! For my part, as a third person, I am persuaded the +marriage did take place. But if I had Beaufort Court, my convictions +would be all the other way. You understand. I am too happy to serve +you. But no man can be expected to jeopardise his character, or coquet +with the law, unless it be for his own individual interest. Then, of +course, he must judge for himself. Adieu! I expect some friends +foreigners--Carlists--to whist. You won't join them?" + +"I never play, you know. You will write to me at Winandermere: and, at +all events, you will keep off the man till I return?" + +"Certainly." + +Beaufort, whom the latter part of the conversation had comforted far less +than the former, hesitated, and turned the door-handle three or four +times; but, glancing towards his brother-in-law, he saw in that cold face +so little sympathy in the struggle between interest and conscience, that +he judged it best to withdraw at once. + +As soon as he was gone, Lilburne summoned his valet, who had lived with +him many years, and who was his confidant in all the adventurous +gallantries with which he still enlivened the autumn of his life. + +"Dykeman," said he, "you have let out that lady?" + +"Yes, my lord." + +"I am not at home if she calls again. She is stupid; she cannot get the +girl to come to her again. I shall trust you with an adventure, Dykeman +--an adventure that will remind you of our young days, man. This +charming creature--I tell you she is irresistible--her very oddities +bewitch me. You must--well, you look uneasy. What would you say?" + +"My lord, I have found out more about her--and--and----" + +"Well, well." + +The valet drew near and whispered something in his master's ear. + +"They are idiots who say it, then," answered Lilburne. "And," faltered +the man, with the shame of humanity on his face, "she is not worthy your +lordship's notice--a poor--" + +"Yes, I know she is poor; and, for that reason, there can be no +difficulty, if the thing is properly managed. You never, perhaps, heard +of a certain Philip, king of Macedon; but I will tell you what he once +said, as well as I can remember it: 'Lead an ass with a pannier of gold; +send the ass through the gates of a city, and all the sentinels will run +away.' Poor!--where there is love, there is charity also, Dykeman. +Besides--" + +Here Lilburne's countenance assumed a sudden aspect of dark and angry +passion,--he broke off abruptly, rose, and paced the room, muttering to +himself. Suddenly he stopped, and put his hand to his hip, as an +expression of pain again altered the character of his face. + +"The limb pains me still! Dykeman--I was scarce twenty-one--when I became +a cripple for life." He paused, drew a long breath, smiled, rubbed his +hands gently, and added: "Never fear--you shall be the ass; and thus +Philip of Macedon begins to fill the pannier." And he tossed his purse +into the hands of the valet, whose face seemed to lose its anxious +embarrassment at the touch of the gold. Lilburne glanced at him with a +quiet sneer: "Go!--I will give you my orders when I undress." + +"Yes!" he repeated to himself, "the limb pains me still. But he died!-- +shot as a man would shoot a jay or a polecat! + +"I have the newspaper still in that drawer. He died an outcast--a felon-- +a murderer! And I blasted his name--and I seduced his mistress--and I-- +am John Lord Lilburne!" + +About ten o'clock, some half-a-dozen of those gay lovers of London, who, +like Lilburne, remain faithful to its charms when more vulgar worshippers +desert its sunburnt streets--mostly single men--mostly men of middle age +--dropped in. And soon after came three or four high-born foreigners, +who had followed into England the exile of the unfortunate Charles X. +Their looks, at once proud and sad--their moustaches curled downward-- +their beards permitted to grow--made at first a strong contrast with the +smooth gay Englishmen. But Lilburne, who was fond of French society, and +who, when he pleased, could be courteous and agreeable, soon placed the +exiles at their ease; and, in the excitement of high play, all +differences of mood and humour speedily vanished. Morning was in the +skies before they sat down to supper. + +"You have been very fortunate to-night, milord," said one of the +Frenchmen, with an envious tone of congratulation. + +"But, indeed," said another, who, having been several times his host's +partner, had won largely, "you are the finest player, milord, I ever +encountered." + +"Always excepting Monsieur Deschapelles and--," replied Lilburne, +indifferently. And, turning the conversation, he asked one of the guests +why he had not introduced him to a French officer of merit and +distinction; "With whom," said Lord Lilburne, "I understand that you are +intimate, and of whom I hear your countrymen very often speak." + +"You mean De Vaudemont. Poor fellow!" said a middle-aged Frenchman, of +a graver appearance than the rest. + +"But why 'poor fellow!' Monsieur de Liancourt?" + +"He was rising so high before the revolution. There was not a braver +officer in the army. But he is but a soldier of fortune, and his career +is closed." + +"Till the Bourbons return," said another Carlist, playing with his +moustache. + +"You will really honour me much by introducing me to him," said Lord +Lilburne. "De Vaudemont--it is a good name,--perhaps, too, he plays at +whist." + +"But," observed one of the Frenchmen, "I am by no means sure that he has +the best right in the world to the name. 'Tis a strange story." + +"May I hear it?" asked the host. + +"Certainly. It is briefly this: There was an old Vicomte de Vaudemont +about Paris; of good birth, but extremely poor--a mauvais sujet. He had +already had two wives, and run through their fortunes. Being old and +ugly, and men who survive two wives having a bad reputation among +marriageable ladies at Paris, he found it difficult to get a third. +Despairing of the noblesse he went among the bourgeoisie with that hope. +His family were kept in perpetual fear of a ridiculous mesalliance. +Among these relations was Madame de Merville, whom you may have heard +of." + +"Madame de Merville! Ah, yes! Handsome, was she not?" + +"It is true. Madame de Merville, whose failing was pride, was known more +than once to have bought off the matrimonial inclinations of the amorous +vicomte. Suddenly there appeared in her circles a very handsome young +man. He was presented formally to her friends as the son of the Vicomte +de Vaudemont by his second marriage with an English lady, brought up in +England, and now for the first time publicly acknowledged. Some scandal +was circulated--" + +"Sir," interrupted Monsieur de Liancourt, very gravely, "the scandal was +such as all honourable men must stigmatise and despise--it was only to be +traced to some lying lackey--a scandal that the young man was already the +lover of a woman of stainless reputation the very first day that he +entered Paris! I answer for the falsity of that report. But that report +I own was one that decided not only Madame de Merville, who was a +sensitive--too sensitive a person, but my friend young Vaudemont, to a +marriage, from the pecuniary advantages of which he was too high-spirited +not to shrink." + +"Well," said Lord Lilburne, "then this young De Vaudemont married Madame +de Merville?" + +"No," said Liancourt somewhat sadly, "it was not so decreed; for +Vaudemont, with a feeling which belongs to a gentleman, and which I +honour, while deeply and gratefully attached to Madame de Merville, +desired that he might first win for himself some honourable distinction +before he claimed a hand to which men of fortunes so much higher had +aspired in vain. I am not ashamed," he added, after a slight pause, "to +say that I had been one of the rejected suitors, and that I still revere +the memory of Eugenie de Merville. The young man, therefore, was to have +entered my regiment. Before, however, he had joined it, and while yet in +the full flush of a young man's love for a woman formed to excite the +strongest attachment, she--she---" The Frenchman's voice trembled, and he +resumed with affected composure: "Madame de Merville, who had the best +and kindest heart that ever beat in a human breast, learned one day that +there was a poor widow in the garret of the hotel she inhabited who was +dangerously ill--without medicine and without food--having lost her only +friend and supporter in her husband some time before. In the impulse of +the moment, Madame de Merville herself attended this widow--caught the +fever that preyed upon her--was confined to her bed ten days--and died as +she bad lived, in serving others and forgetting self.--And so much, sir, +for the scandal you spoke of!" + +"A warning," observed Lord Lilburne, "against trifling with one's health +by that vanity of parading a kind heart, which is called charity. If +charity, _mon cher_, begins at home, it is in the drawing-room, not the +garret!" + +The Frenchman looked at his host in some disdain, bit his lip, and was +silent. + +"But still," resumed Lord Lilburne, "still it is so probable that your +old vicomte had a son; and I can so perfectly understand why he did not +wish to be embarrassed with him as long as he could help it, that I do +not understand why there should be any doubt of the younger De +Vaudemont's parentage." + +"Because," said the Frenchman who had first commenced the narrative,-- +"because the young man refused to take the legal steps to proclaim his +birth and naturalise himself a Frenchman; because, no sooner was Madame +de Merville dead than he forsook the father he had so newly discovered-- +forsook France, and entered with some other officers, under the brave, +in the service of one of the native princes of India." + +"But perhaps he was poor," observed Lord Lilburne. "A father is a very +good thing, and a country is a very good thing, but still a man must have +money; and if your father does not do much for you, somehow or other, +your country generally follows his example." + +"My lord," said Liancourt, "my friend here has forgotten to say that +Madame de Merville had by deed of gift; (though unknown to her lover), +before her death, made over to young Vaudemont the bulk of her fortune; +and that, when he was informed of this donation after her decease, and +sufficiently recovered from the stupor of his grief, he summoned her +relations round him, declared that her memory was too dear to him for +wealth to console him for her loss, and reserving to himself but a, +modest and bare sufficiency for the common necessaries of a gentleman, +he divided the rest amongst them, and repaired to the East; not only to +conquer his sorrow by the novelty and stir of an exciting life, but to +carve out with his own hand the reputation of an honourable and brave +man. My friend remembered the scandal long buried--he forgot the +generous action." + +"Your friend, you see, my dear Monsieur de Liancourt," remarked Lilburne, +"is more a man of the world than you are!" + +"And I was just going to observe," said the friend thus referred to, +"that that very action seemed to confirm the rumour that there had been +some little manoeuvring as to this unexpected addition to the name of De +Vaudemont; for, if himself related to Madame de Merville, why have such +scruples to receive her gift?" + +"A very shrewd remark," said Lord Lilburne, looking with some respect at +the speaker; "and I own that it is a very unaccountable proceeding, and +one of which I don't think you or I would ever have been guilty. Well, +and the old Vicomte?" + +"Did not live long!" said the Frenchman, evidently gratified by his +host's compliment, while Liancourt threw himself back in his chair in +grave displeasure. "The young man remained some years in India, and when +he returned to Paris, our friend here, Monsieur de Liancourt (then in +favour with Charles X.), and Madame de Merville's relations took him up. +He had already acquired a reputation in this foreign service, and he +obtained a place at the court, and a commission in the king's guards. I +allow that he would certainly have made a career, had it not been for the +Three Days. As it is, you see him in London, like the rest of us, an +exile!" + +"And I suppose, without a sous." + +"No, I believe that he had still saved, and even augmented, in India, the +portion he allotted to himself from Madame de Merville's bequest." + +"And if he don't play whist, he ought to play it," said Lilburne. "You +have roused my curiosity; I hope you will let me make his acquaintance, +Monsieur de Liancourt. I am no politician, but allow me to propose this +toast, 'Success to those who have the wit to plan, and the strength to +execute.' In other words, 'the Right Divine!'" + +Soon afterwards the guests retired. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +"Ros. Happily, he's the second time come to them."--Hamlet. + +It was the evening after that in which the conversations recorded in our +last chapter were held;--evening in the quiet suburb of H------. The +desertion and silence of the metropolis in September had extended to its +neighbouring hamlets;--a village in the heart of the country could +scarcely have seemed more still; the lamps were lighted, many of the +shops already closed, a few of the sober couples and retired spinsters of +the place might, here and there, be seen slowly wandering homeward after +their evening walk: two or three dogs, in spite of the prohibitions of +the magistrates placarded on the walls,--(manifestoes which threatened +with death the dogs, and predicted more than ordinary madness to the +public,)--were playing in the main road, disturbed from time to time as +the slow coach, plying between the city and the suburb, crawled along the +thoroughfare, or as the brisk mails whirled rapidly by, announced by the +cloudy dust and the guard's lively horn. Gradually even these evidences +of life ceased--the saunterers disappeared, the mails had passed, the +dogs gave place to the later and more stealthy perambulations of their +feline successors "who love the moon." At unfrequent intervals, the more +important shops--the linen-drapers', the chemists', and the gin-palace-- +still poured out across the shadowy road their streams of light from +windows yet unclosed: but with these exceptions, the business of the +place stood still. + +At this time there emerged from a milliner's house (shop, to outward +appearance, it was not, evincing its gentility and its degree above the +Capelocracy, to use a certain classical neologism, by a brass plate on an +oak door, whereon was graven, "Miss Semper, Milliner and Dressmaker, +from Madame Devy,")--at this time, I say, and from this house there +emerged the light and graceful form of a young female. She held in her +left hand a little basket, of the contents of which (for it was empty) +she had apparently just disposed; and, as she stepped across the road, +the lamplight fell on a face in the first bloom of youth, and +characterised by an expression of childlike innocence and candour. It +was a face regularly and exquisitely lovely, yet something there was in +the aspect that saddened you; you knew not why, for it was not sad +itself; on the contrary, the lips smiled and the eyes sparkled. As she +now glided along the shadowy street with a light, quick step, a man, who +had hitherto been concealed by the portico of an attorney's house, +advanced stealthily, and followed her at a little distance. Unconscious +that she was dogged, and seemingly fearless of all danger, the girl went +lightly on, swinging her basket playfully to and fro, and chaunting, in a +low but musical tone, some verses that seemed rather to belong to the +nursery than to that age which the fair singer had attained. + +As she came to an angle which the main street formed with a lane, narrow +and partially lighted, a policeman, stationed there, looked hard at her, +and then touched his hat with an air of respect, in which there seemed +also a little of compassion. + +"Good night to you," said the girl, passing him, and with a frank, gay +tone. + +"Shall I attend you home, Miss?" said the man. + +"What for? I am very well!" answered the young woman, with an accent +and look of innocent surprise. + +Just at this time the man, who had hitherto followed her, gained the +spot, and turned down the lane. + +"Yes," replied the policeman; "but it is getting dark, Miss." + +"So it is every night when I walk home, unless there's a moon.--Good- +bye.--The moon," she repeated to herself, as she walked on, "I used to be +afraid of the moon when I was a little child;" and then, after a pause, +she murmured, in a low chaunt: + + "'The moon she is a wandering ghost, + That walks in penance nightly; + How sad she is, that wandering moon, + For all she shines so brightly! + + "'I watched her eyes when I was young, + Until they turned my brain, + And now I often weep to think + 'Twill ne'er be right again.'" + +As the murmur of these words died at a distance down the lane in which +the girl had disappeared, the policeman, who had paused to listen, shook +his head mournfully, and said, while he moved on,-- + +"Poor thing! they should not let her always go about by herself; and yet, +who would harm her?" + +Meanwhile the girl proceeded along the lane, which was skirted by small, +but not mean houses, till it terminated in a cross-stile that admitted +into a church yard. Here hung the last lamp in the path, and a few dint +stars broke palely over the long grass, and scattered gravestones, +without piercing the deep shadow which the church threw over a large +portion of the sacred ground. Just as she passed the stile, the man, +whom we have before noticed, and who had been leaning, as if waiting for +some one, against the pales, approached, and said gently,-- + +"Ah, Miss! it is a lone place for one so beautiful as you are to be +alone. You ought never to be on foot." + +The girl stopped, and looked full, but without any alarm in her eyes, +into the man's face. + +"Go away!" she said, with a half-peevish, half-kindly tone of command. +"I don't know you." + +"But I have been sent to speak to you by one who does know you, Miss--one +who loves you to distraction--he has seen you before at Mrs. West's. He +is so grieved to think you should walk--you ought, he says, to have every +luxury--that he has sent his carriage for you. It is on the other side +of the yard. Do come now;" and he laid his hand, though very lightly, on +her arm. + +"At Mrs. West's!" she said; and, for the first time, her voice and look +showed fear. "Go away directly! How dare you touch me!" + +"But, my dear Miss, you have no idea how my employer loves you, and how +rich he is. See, he has sent you all this money; it is gold--real gold. +You may have what you like, if you will but come. Now, don't be silly, +Miss." The girl made no answer, but, with a sudden spring, passed the +man, and ran lightly and rapidly along the path, in an opposite direction +from that to which the tempter had pointed, when inviting her to the +carriage. The man, surprised, but not baffled, reached her in an +instant, and caught hold of her dress. + +"Stay! you must come--you must!" he said, threateningly; and, loosening +his grasp on her shawl, he threw his arm round her waist. + +"Don't!" cried the girl, pleadingly, and apparently subdued, turning her +fair, soft face upon her pursuer, and clasping her hands. "Be quiet! +Fanny is silly! No one is ever rude to poor Fanny!" + +"And no one will be rude to you, Miss," said the man, apparently touched; +"but I dare not go without you. You don't know what you refuse. Come;" +and he attempted gently to draw her back. + +"No, no!" said the girl, changing from supplication to anger, and +raising her voice into a loud shriek, "No! I will--" + +"Nay, then," interrupted the man, looking round anxiously, and, with a +quick and dexterous movement he threw a large handkerchief over her face, +and, as he held it fast to her lips with one hand, he lifted her from the +ground. Still violently struggling, the girl contrived to remove the +handkerchief, and once more her shriek of terror rang through the +violated sanctuary. + +At that instant a loud deep voice was heard, "Who calls?" And a tall +figure seemed to rise, as from the grave itself, and emerge from the +shadow of the church. A moment more, and a strong gripe was laid on the +shoulder of the ravisher. "What is this? On God's ground, too! Release +her, wretch!" + +The man, trembling, half with superstitious, half with bodily fear, let +go his captive, who fell at once at the knees of her deliverer. "Don't +you hurt me too," she said, as the tears rolled down her eyes. "I am a +good girl-and my grandfather's blind." + +The stranger bent down and raised her; then looking round for the +assailant with an eye whose dark fire shone through the gloom, he +perceived the coward stealing off. He disdained to pursue. + +"My poor child," said he, with that voice which the strong assume to the +weak--the man to some wounded infant--the voice of tender superiority and +compassion, "there is no cause for fear now. Be soothed. Do you live +near? Shall I see you home?" + +"Thank you! That's kind. Pray do!" And, with an infantine confidence +she took his hand, as a child does that of a grown-up person;--so they +walked on together. + +"And," said the stranger, "do you know that man? Has he insulted you +before?" + +"No--don't talk of him: _ce me fait mal_!" And she put her hand to her +forehead. + +The French was spoken with so French an accent, that, in some curiosity, +the stranger cast his eye over her plain dress. + +"You speak French well." + +"Do I? I wish I knew more words--I only recollect a few. When I am very +happy or very sad they come into my head. But I am happy now. I like +your voice--I like you--Oh! I have dropped my basket!" + +"Shall I go back for it, or shall I buy you another?" + +"Another!--Oh, no! come back for it. How kind you are!--Ah! I see it!" +and she broke away and ran forward to pick it up. + +When she had recovered it, she laughed-she spoke to it--she kissed it. + +Her companion smiled as he said: "Some sweetheart has given you that +basket--it seems but a common basket too." + +"I have had it--oh, ever since--since--I don't know how long! It came +with me from France--it was full of little toys. They are gone--I am so +sorry!" + +"How old are you?" + +"I don't know." + +"My pretty one," said the stranger, with deep pity in his rich voice, +"your mother should not let you go out alone at this hour." + +"Mother!--mother!" repeated the girl, in a tone of surprise. + +"Have you no mother?" + +"No! I had a father once. But he died, they say. I did not see him die. +I sometimes cry when I think that I shall never, never see him again! +But," she said, changing her accent from melancholy almost to joy, "he is +to have a grave here like the other girl's fathers--a fine stone upon it +--and all to be done with my money!" + +"Your money, my child?" + +"Yes; the money I make. I sell my work and take the money to my +grandfather; but I lay by a little every week for a gravestone for my +father." + +"Will the gravestone be placed in that churchyard?" They were now in +another lane; and, as he spoke, the stranger checked her, and bending +down to look into her face, he murmured to himself, "Is it possible?--it +must be--it must!" + +"Yes! I love that churchyard--my brother told me to put flowers there; +and grandfather and I sit there in the summer, without speaking. But I +don't talk much, I like singing better:-- + + "'All things that good and harmless are + Are taught, they say, to sing + The maiden resting at her work, + The bird upon the wing; + The little ones at church, in prayer; + The angels in the sky + The angels less when babes are born + Than when the aged die.'" + +And unconscious of the latent moral, dark or cheering, according as we +estimate the value of this life, couched in the concluding rhyme, Fanny +turned round to the stranger, and said, "Why should the angels be glad +when the aged die?" + +"That they are released from a false, unjust, and miserable world, in +which the first man was a rebel, and the second a murderer!" muttered +the stranger between his teeth, which he gnashed as he spoke. + +The girl did not understand him: she shook her head gently, and made no +reply. A few moments, and she paused before a small house. + +"This is my home." + +"It is so," said her companion, examining the exterior of the house with +an earnest gaze; "and your name is Fanny." + +"Yes--every one knows Fanny. Come in;" and the girl opened the door with +a latch-key. + +The stranger bowed his stately height as he crossed the low threshold and +followed his guide into a little parlour. Before a table on which burned +dimly, and with unheeded wick, a single candle, sat a man of advanced +age; and as he turned his face to the door, the stranger saw that he was +blind. + +The girl bounded to his chair, passed her arms round the old man's neck, +and kissed his forehead; then nestling herself at his feet, and leaning +her clasped hands caressingly on his knee, she said,-- + +"Grandpapa, I have brought you somebody you must love. He has been so +kind to Fanny." + +"And neither of you can remember me!" said the guest. + +The old man, whose dull face seemed to indicate dotage, half raised +himself at the sound of the stranger's voice. "Who is that?" said he, +with a feeble and querulous voice. "Who wants me?" + +"I am the friend of your lost son. I am he who, ten years go, brought +Fanny to your roof, and gave her to your care--your son's last charge. +And you blessed your son, and forgave him, and vowed to be a father to +his Fanny." The old man, who had now slowly risen to his feet, trembled +violently, and stretched out his hands. + +"Come near--near--let me put my hands on your head. I cannot see you; +but Fanny talks of you, and prays for you; and Fanny--she has been an +angel to me!" + +The stranger approached and half knelt as the old man spread his hands +over his head, muttering inaudibly. Meanwhile Fanny, pale as death--her +lips apart--an eager, painful expression on her face--looked inquiringly +on the dark, marked countenance of the visitor, and creeping towards him +inch by inch, fearfully touched his dress--his arms--his countenance. + +"Brother," she said at last, doubtingly and timidly, "Brother, I thought +I could never forget you! But you are not like my brother; you are +older;--you are--you are!--no! no! you are not my brother!" + +"I am much changed, Fanny; and you too!" + +He smiled as he spoke; and the smile-sweet and pitying--thoroughly +changed the character of his face, which was ordinarily stern, grave, and +proud. + +"I know you now!" exclaimed Fanny, in a tone of wild joy. "And you come +back from that grave! My flowers have brought you back at last! I knew +they would! Brother! Brother!" + +And she threw herself on his breast and burst into passionate tears. +Then, suddenly drawing herself back, she laid her finger on his arm, and +looked up at him beseechingly. + +"Pray, now, is he really dead? He, my father!--he, too, was lost like +you. Can't he come back again as you have done?" + +"Do you grieve for him still, then? Poor girl!" said the stranger, +evasively, and seating himself. Fanny continued to listen for an answer +to her touching question; but finding that none was given, she stole away +to a corner of the room, and leaned her face on her hands, and seemed to +think--till at last, as she so sat, the tears began to flow down her +cheeks, and she wept, but silently and unnoticed. + +"But, sir," said the guest, after a short pause, "how is this? Fanny +tells me she supports you by her work. Are you so poor, then? Yet I +left you your son's bequest; and you, too, I understood, though not rich, +were not in want!" + +"There was a curse on my gold," said the old man, sternly. "It was +stolen from us." + +There was another pause. Simon broke it. + +"And you, young man--how has it fared with you? You have prospered, +I hope." + +"I am as I have been for years--alone in the world, without kindred and +without friends. But, thanks to Heaven, I am not a beggar!" + +"No kindred and no friends!" repeated the old man. "No father--no +brother--no wife--no sister!" + +"None! No one to care whether I live or die," answered the stranger, +with a mixture of pride and sadness in his voice. "But, as the song has +it-- + + "'I care for nobody--no, not I, + For nobody cares for me!'" + +There was a certain pathos in the mockery with which he repeated the +homely lines, although, as he did, he gathered himself up, as if +conscious of a certain consolation and reliance on the resources not +dependent on others which he had found in his own strong limbs and his +own stout heart. + +At that moment he felt a soft touch upon his hand, and he saw Fanny +looking at him through the tears that still flowed. + +"You have no one to care for you? Don't say so! Come and live with us, +brother; we'll care for you. I have never forgotten the flowers--never! +Do come! Fanny shall love you. Fanny can work for three!" + +"And they call her an idiot!" mumbled the old man, with a vacant smile +on his lips. + +"My sister! You shall be my sister! Forlorn one--whom even Nature has +fooled and betrayed! Sister!--we, both orphans! Sister!" exclaimed +that dark, stern man, passionately, and with a broken voice; and he +opened his arms, and Fanny, without a blush or a thought of shame, threw +herself on his breast. He kissed her forehead with a kiss that was, +indeed, pure and holy as a brother's: and Fanny felt that he had left +upon her cheek a tear that was not her own. + +"Well," he said, with an altered voice, and taking the old man's hand, +"what say you? Shall I take up my lodging with you? I have a little +money; I can protect and aid you both. I shall be often away--in London +or else where--and will not intrude too much on you. But you blind, and +she--(here he broke off the sentence abruptly and went on)--you should +not be left alone. And this neighbourhood, that burial-place, are dear +to me. I, too, Fanny, have lost a parent; and that grave--" + +He paused, and then added, in a trembling voice, "And you have placed +flowers over that grave?" + +"Stay with us," said the blind man; "not for our sake, but your own. The +world is a bad place. I have been long sick of the world. Yes! come and +live near the burial-ground--the nearer you are to the grave, the safer +you are;--and you have a little money, you say!" + +"I will come to-morrow, then. I must return now. Tomorrow, Fanny, we +shall meet again." + +"Must you go?" said Fanny, tenderly. "But you will come again; you know +I used to think every one died when he left me. I am wiser now. Yet +still, when you do leave me, it is true that you die for Fanny!" + +At this moment, as the three persons were grouped, each had assumed a +posture of form, an expression of face, which a painter of fitting +sentiment and skill would have loved to study. The visitor had gained +the door; and as he stood there, his noble height--the magnificent +strength and health of his manhood in its full prime--contrasted alike +the almost spectral debility of extreme age and the graceful delicacy of +Fanny--half girl, half child. There was something foreign in his air-- +and the half military habit, relieved by the red riband of the Bourbon +knighthood. His complexion was dark as that of a Moor, and his raven +hair curled close to the stately head. The soldier-moustache--thick, but +glossy as silk-shaded the firm lip; and the pointed beard, assumed by the +exiled Carlists, heightened the effect of the strong and haughty features +and the expression of the martial countenance. + +But as Fanny's voice died on his ear, he half averted that proud face; +and the dark eyes--almost Oriental in their brilliancy and depth of +shade--seemed soft and humid. And there stood Fanny, in a posture of +such unconscious sadness--such childlike innocence; her arms drooping-- +her face wistfully turned to his--and a half smile upon the lips, that +made still more touching the tears not yet dried upon her cheeks. While +thin, frail, shadowy, with white hair and furrowed cheeks, the old man +fixed his sightless orbs on space; and his face, usually only animated +from the lethargy of advancing dotage by a certain querulous cynicism, +now grew suddenly earnest, and even thoughtful, as Fanny spoke of Death! + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + "Ulyss. Time hath a wallet at his back + Wherein he puts alms for oblivion. + * * Perseverance, dear my lord, + Keeps honour bright."--_Troilus and Cressida_. + +I have, not sought--as would have been easy, by a little ingenuity in the +earlier portion of this narrative--whatever source of vulgar interest +might be derived from the mystery of names and persons. As in Charles +Spencer the reader is allowed at a glance to detect Sidney Morton, so in +Philip de Vaudemont (the stranger who rescued Fanny) the reader at once +recognises the hero of my tale; but since neither of these young men has +a better right to the name resigned than to the name adopted, it will be +simpler and more convenient to designate them by those appellations by +which they are now known to the world. In truth, Philip de Vaudemont was +scarcely the same being as Philip Morton. In the short visit he had paid +to the elder Gawtrey, when he consigned Fanny to his charge, he had given +no name; and the one he now took (when, towards the evening of the next +day he returned to Simon's house) the old man heard for the first time. +Once more sunk into his usual apathy, Simon did not express any surprise +that a Frenchman should be so well acquainted with English--he scarcely +observed that the name was French. Simon's age seemed daily to bring him +more and more to that state when life is mere mechanism, and the soul, +preparing for its departure, no longer heeds the tenement that crumbles +silently and neglected into its lonely dust. Vaudemont came with but +little luggage (for he had an apartment also in London), and no +attendant,--a single horse was consigned to the stables of an inn at +hand, and he seemed, as soldiers are, more careful for the comforts of +the animal than his own. There was but one woman servant in the humble +household, who did all the ruder work, for Fanny's industry could afford +it. The solitary servant and the homely fare sufficed for the simple and +hardy adventurer. + +Fanny, with a countenance radiant with joy, took his hand and led him to +his room. Poor child! with that instinct of woman which never deserted +her, she had busied herself the whole day in striving to deck the chamber +according to her own notions of comfort. She had stolen from her little +hoard wherewithal to make some small purchases, on which the Dowbiggin of +the suburb had been consulted. And what with flowers on the table, and a +fire at the hearth, the room looked cheerful. + +She watched him as he glanced around, and felt disappointed that he did +not utter the admiration she expected. Angry at last with the +indifference which, in fact, as to external accommodation, was habitual +to him, she plucked his sleeve, and said,-- + +"Why don't you speak? Is it not nice?--Fanny did her best." + +"And a thousand thanks to Fanny! It is all I could wish." + +"There is another room, bigger than this, but the wicked woman who robbed +us slept there; and besides, you said you liked the churchyard. See!" +and she opened the window and pointed to the church-tower rising dark +against the evening sky. + +"This is better than all!" said Vaudemont; and he looked out from the +window in a silent reverie, which Fanny did not disturb. + +And now he was settled! From a career so wild, agitated, and various, +the adventurer paused in that humble resting-nook. But quiet is not +repose--obscurity is not content. Often as, morn and eve, he looked +forth upon the spot, where his mother's heart, unconscious of love and +woe, mouldered away, the indignant and bitter feelings of the wronged +outcast and the son who could not clear the mother's name swept away the +subdued and gentle melancholy into which time usually softens regret for +the dead, and with which most of us think of the distant past, and the +once joyous childhood! + +In this man's breast lay, concealed by his external calm, those memories +and aspirations which are as strong as passions. In his earlier years, +when he had been put to hard shifts for existence, he had found no +leisure for close and brooding reflection upon that spoliation of just +rights--that calumny upon his mother's name, which had first brought the +Night into his Morning. His resentment towards the Beauforts, it is +true, had ever been an intense but a fitful and irregular passion. It +was exactly in proportion as, by those rare and romantic incidents which +Fiction cannot invent, and which Narrative takes with diffidence from the +great Store-house of Real Life, his steps had ascended in the social +ladder--that all which his childhood had lost--all which the robbers of +his heritage had gained, the grandeur and the power of WEALTH--above all, +the hourly and the tranquil happiness of a stainless name, became +palpable and distinct. He had loved Eugenie as a boy loves for the first +time an accomplished woman. He regarded her, so refined--so gentle--so +gifted, with the feelings due to a superior being, with an eternal +recollection of the ministering angel that had shone upon him when he +stood on the dark abyss. She was the first that had redeemed his fate-- +the first that had guided aright his path--the first that had tamed the +savage at his breast:--it was the young lion charmed by the eyes of Una. +The outline of his story had been truly given at Lord Lilburne's. +Despite his pride, which revolted from such obligations to another, and a +woman--which disliked and struggled against a disguise which at once and +alone saved him from the detection of the past and the terrors of the +future--he had yielded to her, the wise and the gentle, as one whose +judgment he could not doubt; and, indeed, the slanderous falsehoods +circulated by the lackey, to whose discretion, the night of Gawtrey's +death, Eugenie had preferred to confide her own honour, rather than +another's life, had (as Liancourt rightly stated) left Philip no option +but that which Madame de Merville deemed the best, whether for her +happiness or her good name. Then had followed a brief season--the +holiday of his life--the season of young hope and passion, of brilliancy +and joy, closing by that abrupt death which again left him lonely in the +world. + +When, from the grief that succeeded to the death of Eugenie, he woke to +find himself amidst the strange faces and exciting scenes of an Oriental +court, he turned with hard and disgustful contempt from Pleasure, as an +infidelity to the dead. Ambition crept over him--his mind hardened as +his cheek bronzed under those burning suns--his hardy frame, his energies +prematurely awakened, his constitutional disregard to danger,--made him +a brave and skilful soldier. He acquired reputation and rank. But, as +time went on, the ambition took a higher flight--he felt his sphere +circumscribed; the Eastern indolence that filled up the long intervals +between Eastern action chafed a temper never at rest: he returned to +France: his reputation, Liancourt's friendship, and the relations of +Eugenie--grateful, as has before been implied, for the generosity with +which he surrendered the principal part of her donation--opened for him a +new career, but one painful and galling. In the Indian court there was +no question of his birth--one adventurer was equal with the rest. But in +Paris, a man attempting to rise provoked all the sarcasm of wit, all the +cavils of party; and in polished and civil life, what valour has weapons +against a jest? Thus, in civilisation, all the passions that spring from +humiliated self-love and baffled aspiration again preyed upon his breast. +He saw, then, that the more he struggled from obscurity, the more acute +would become research into his true origin; and his writhing pride almost +stung to death his ambition. To succeed in life by regular means was +indeed difficult for this man; always recoiling from the name he bore-- +always strong in the hope yet to regain that to which he conceived +himself entitled--cherishing that pride of country which never deserts +the native of a Free State, however harsh a parent she may have proved; +and, above all, whatever his ambition and his passions, taking, from the +very misfortunes he had known, an indomitable belief in the ultimate +justice of Heaven;--he had refused to sever the last ties that connected +him with his lost heritage and his forsaken land--he refused to be +naturalised--to make the name he bore legally undisputed--he was +contented to be an alien. Neither was Vaudemont fitted exactly for that +crisis in the social world when the men of journals and talk bustle aside +the men of action. He had not cultivated literature, he had no book- +knowledge--the world had been his school, and stern life his teacher. +Still, eminently skilled in those physical accomplishments which men +admire and soldiers covet, calm and self-possessed in manner, of great +personal advantages, of much ready talent and of practised observation in +character, he continued to breast the obstacles around him, and to +establish himself in the favour of those in power. It was natural to a +person so reared and circumstanced to have no sympathy with what is +called the popular cause. He was no citizen in the state--he was a +stranger in the land. He had suffered and still suffered too much from +mankind to have that philanthropy, sometimes visionary but always noble, +which, in fact, generally springs from the studies we cultivate, not in +the forum, but the closet. Men, alas! too often lose the Democratic +Enthusiasm in proportion as they find reason to suspect or despise their +kind. And if there were not hopes for the Future, which this hard, +practical daily life does not suffice to teach us, the vision and the +glory that belong to the Great Popular Creed, dimmed beneath the +injustice, the follies, and the vices of the world as it is, would fade +into the lukewarm sectarianism of temporary Party. Moreover, Vaudemont's +habits of thought and reasoning were those of the camp, confirmed by the +systems familiar to him in the East: he regarded the populace as a +soldier enamoured of discipline and order usually does. His theories, +therefore, or rather his ignorance of what is sound in theory, went with +Charles the Tenth in his excesses, but not with the timidity which +terminated those excesses by dethronement and disgrace. Chafed to the +heart, gnawed with proud grief, he obeyed the royal mandates, and +followed the exiled monarch: his hopes overthrown, his career in France +annihilated forever. But on entering England, his temper, confident and +ready of resource, fastened itself on new food. In the land where he had +no name he might yet rebuild his fortunes. It was an arduous effort--an +improbable hope; but the words heard by the bridge of Paris--words that +had often cheered him in his exile through hardships and through dangers +which it is unnecessary to our narrative to detail--yet rung again in his +ear, as he leaped on his native land,--"Time, Faith, Energy." + +While such his character in the larger and more distant relations of +life, in the closer circles of companionship many rare and noble +qualities were visible. It is true that he was stern, perhaps imperious +--of a temper that always struggled for command; but he was deeply +susceptible of kindness, and, if feared by those who opposed, loved by +those who served him. About his character was that mixture of tenderness +and fierceness which belonged, of old, to the descriptions of the +warrior. Though so little unlettered, Life had taught him a certain +poetry of sentiment and idea--More poetry, perhaps, in the silent +thoughts that, in his happier moments, filled his solitude, than in half +the pages that his brother had read and written by the dreaming lake. A +certain largeness of idea and nobility of impulse often made him act the +sentiments of which bookmen write. With all his passions, he held +licentiousness in disdain; with all his ambition for the power of wealth, +he despised its luxury. Simple, masculine, severe, abstemious, he was of +that mould in which, in earlier times, the successful men of action have +been cast. But to successful action, circumstance is more necessary than +to triumphant study. + +It was to be expected that, in proportion as he had been familiar with +a purer and nobler life, he should look with great and deep self- +humiliation at his early association with Gawtrey. He was in this +respect more severe on himself than any other mind ordinarily just and +candid would have been,--when fairly surveying the circumstances of +penury, hunger, and despair, which had driven him to Gawtrey's roof, the +imperfect nature of his early education, the boyish trust and affection +he had felt for his protector, and his own ignorance of, and exemption +from, all the worst practices of that unhappy criminal. But still, when, +with the knowledge he had now acquired, the man looked calmly back, his +cheek burned with remorseful shame at his unreflecting companionship in a +life of subterfuge and equivocation, the true nature of which, the boy +(so circumstanced as we have shown him) might be forgiven for not at that +time comprehending. Two advantages resulted, however, from the error and +the remorse: first, the humiliation it brought curbed, in some measure, +a pride that might otherwise have been arrogant and unamiable, and, +secondly, as I have before intimated, his profound gratitude to Heaven +for his deliverance from the snares that had beset his youth gave his +future the guide of an earnest and heartfelt faith. He acknowledged in +life no such thing as accident. Whatever his struggles, whatever his +melancholy, whatever his sense of worldly wrong, he never despaired; for +nothing now could shake his belief in one directing Providence. + +The ways and habits of Vaudemont were not at discord with those of the +quiet household in which he was now a guest. Like most men of strong +frames, and accustomed to active, not studious pursuits, he rose early; +--and usually rode to London, to come back late at noon to their frugal +meal. And if again, perhaps after the hour when Fanny and Simon retired, +he would often return to London, his own pass-key re-admitted him, at +whatever time he came back, without disturbing the sleep of the +household. Sometimes, when the sun began to decline, if the air was +warm, the old man would crawl out, leaning on that strong arm, through +the neighbouring lanes, ever returning through the lonely burial-ground; +or when the blind host clung to his fireside, and composed himself to +sleep, Philip would saunter forth along with Fanny; and on the days when +she went to sell her work, or select her purchases, he always made a +point of attending her. And her cheek wore a flush of pride when she saw +him carrying her little basket, or waiting without, in musing patience, +while she performed her commissions in the shops. Though in reality +Fanny's intellect was ripening within, yet still the surface often misled +the eye as to the depths. It was rather that something yet held back the +faculties from their growth than that the faculties themselves were +wanting. Her weakness was more of the nature of the infant's than of one +afflicted with incurable imbecility. For instance, she managed the +little household with skill and prudence; she could calculate in her +head, as rapidly as Vaudemont himself, the arithmetic necessary to her +simple duties; she knew the value of money, which is more than some of us +wise folk do. Her skill, even in her infancy so remarkable, in various +branches of female handiwork, was carried, not only by perseverance, but +by invention and peculiar talent, to a marvellous and exquisite +perfection. Her embroidery, especially in what was then more rare than +at present, viz., flowers on silk, was much in request among the great +modistes of London, to whom it found its way through the agency of Miss +Semper. So that all this had enabled her, for years, to provide every +necessary comfort of life for herself and her blind protector. And her +care for the old man was beautiful in its minuteness, its vigilance. +Wherever her heart was interested, there never seemed a deficiency of +mind. Vaudemont was touched to see how much of affectionate and pitying +respect she appeared to enjoy in the neighbourhood, especially among the +humbler classes--even the beggar who swept the crossings did not beg of +her, but bade God bless her as she passed; and the rude, discontented +artisan would draw himself from the wall and answer, with a softened +brow, the smile with which the harmless one charmed his courtesy. In +fact, whatever attraction she took from her youth, her beauty, her +misfortune, and her affecting industry, was heightened, in the eyes of +the poorer neighbours, by many little traits of charity and kindness; +many a sick child had she tended, and many a breadless board had stolen +something from the stock set aside for her father's grave. + +"Don't you think," she once whispered to Vaudemont, "that God attends to +us more if we are good to those who are sick and hungry?" + +"Certainly we are taught to think so." + +"Well, I'll tell you a secret--don't tell again. Grandpapa once said +that my father had done bad things; now, if Fanny is good to those she +can help, I think that God will hear her more kindly when she prays him +to forgive what her father did. Do you think so too? Do say--you are +so wise!" + +"Fanny, you are wiser than all of us; and I feel myself better and +happier when I hear you speak." + +There were, indeed, many moments when Vaudemont thought that her +deficiencies of intellect might have been repaired, long since, by +skilful culture and habitual companionship with those of her own age; +from which companionship, however, Fanny, even when at school, had shrunk +aloof. At other moments there was something so absent and distracted +about her, or so fantastic and incoherent, that Vaudemont, with the man's +hard, worldly eye, read in it nothing but melancholy confusion. +Nevertheless, if the skein of ideas was entangled, each thread in itself +was a thread of gold. + +Fanny's great object--her great ambition--her one hope--was a tomb for +her supposed father. Whether from some of that early religion attached +to the grave, which is most felt in Catholic countries, and which she had +imbibed at the convent; or from her residence so near the burial ground, +and the affection with which she regarded the spot;--whatever the cause, +she had cherished for some years, as young maidens usually cherish the +desire of the Altar--the dream of the Gravestone. But the hoard was +amassed so slowly;--now old Gawtrey was attacked by illness;--now there +was some little difficulty in the rent; now some fluctuation in the price +of work; and now, and more often than all, some demand on her charity, +which interfered with, and drew from, the pious savings. This was a +sentiment in which her new friend sympathised deeply; for he, too, +remembered that his first gold had bought that humble stone which still +preserved upon the earth the memory of his mother. + +Meanwhile, days crept on, and no new violence was offered to Fanny. +Vaudemont learned, then, by little and little--and Fanny's account was +very confused--the nature of the danger she had run. + +It seemed that one day, tempted by the fineness of the weather up the +road that led from the suburb farther into the country, Fanny was stopped +by a gentleman in a carriage, who accosted her, as she said, very kindly: +and after several questions, which she answered with her usual +unsuspecting innocence, learned her trade, insisted on purchasing some +articles of work which she had at the moment in her basket, and promised +to procure her a constant purchaser, upon much better terms than she had +hitherto obtained, if she would call at the house of a Mrs. West, about a +mile from the suburb towards London. This she promised to do, and this +she did, according to the address he gave her. She was admitted to a +lady more gaily dressed than Fanny had ever seen a lady before,--the +gentleman was also present,--they both loaded her with compliments, and +bought her work at a price which seemed about to realise all the hopes of +the poor girl as to the gravestone for William Gawtrey,--as if his evil +fate pursued that wild man beyond the grave, and his very tomb was to be +purchased by the gold of the polluter! The lady then appointed her to +call again; but, meanwhile, she met Fanny in the streets, and while she +was accosting her, it fortunately chanced that Miss Semper the milliner +passed that way--turned round, looked hard at the lady, used very angry +language to her, seized Fanny's hand, led her away while the lady slunk +off; and told her that the said lady was a very bad woman, and that Fanny +must never speak to her again. Fanny most cheerfully promised this. +And, in fact, the lady, probably afraid, whether of the mob or the +magistrates, never again came near her. + +"And," said Fanny, "I gave the money they had both given to me to Miss +Semper, who said she would send it back." + +"You did right, Fanny; and as you made one promise to Miss Semper, so you +must make me one--never to stir from home again without me or some other +person. No, no other person--only me. I will give up everything else to +go with you." + +"Will you? Oh, yes. I promise! I used to like going alone, but that +was before you came, brother." + +And as Fanny kept her promise, it would have been a bold gallant indeed +who would have ventured to molest her by the side of that stately and +strong protector. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + "Timon. Each thing's a thief + The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power + Have unchecked theft. + + The sweet degrees that this brief world affords, + To such as may the passive drugs of it + Freely command."--_Timon of Athens_. + +On the day and at the hour fixed for the interview with the stranger who +had visited Mr. Beaufort, Lord Lilburne was seated in the library of his +brother-in-law; and before the elbow-chair, on which he lolled +carelessly, stood our old friend Mr. Sharp, of Bow Street notability. + +"Mr. Sharp," said the peer, "I have sent for you to do me a little +favour. I expect a man here who professes to give Mr. Beaufort, my +brother-in-law, some information about a lawsuit. It is necessary to +know the exact value of his evidence. I wish you to ascertain all +particulars about him. Be so good as to seat yourself in the porter's +chair in the hall; note him when he enters, unobserved yourself--but as +he is probably a stranger to you, note him still more when he leaves the +house; follow him at a distance; find out where he lives, whom he +associates with, where he visits, their names and directions, what his +character and calling are;--in a word, everything you can, and report to +me each evening. Dog him well, never lose sight of him--you will be +handsomely paid. You understand?" + +"Ah!" said Mr. Sharp, "leave me alone, my lord. Been employed before by +your lordship's brother-in-law. We knows what's what." + +"I don't doubt it. To your post--I expect him every moment." + +And, in fact, Mr. Sharp had only just ensconced himself in the porter's +chair when the stranger knocked at the door--in another moment he was +shown in to Lord Lilburne. + +"Sir," said his lordship, without rising, "be so good as to take a chair. +Mr. Beaufort is obliged to leave town--he has asked me to see you--I am +one of his family--his wife is my sister--you may be as frank with me as +with him,--more so, perhaps." + +"I beg the fauvour of your name, sir," said the stranger, adjusting his +collar. + +"Yours first--business is business." + +"Well, then, Captain Smith." + +"Of what regiment?" + +"Half-pay." + +"I am Lord Lilburne. Your name is Smith--humph!" added the peer, looking +over some notes before him. "I see it is also the name of the witness +appealed to by Mrs. Morton--humph!" + +At this remark, and still more at the look which accompanied it, the +countenance, before impudent and complacent, of Captain Smith fell into +visible embarrassment; he cleared his throat and said, with a little +hesitation,-- + +"My lord, that witness is living!" + +"No doubt of it--witnesses never die where property is concerned and +imposture intended." + +At this moment the servant entered, and placed a little note, quaintly +folded, before Lord Lilburne. He glanced at it in surprise--opened, and +read as follows, in pencil,-- + +"My LORD,--I knows the man; take caer of him; he is as big a roge as ever +stept; he was transported some three year back, and unless his time has +been shortened by the Home, he's absent without leve. We used to call +him Dashing Jerry. That ere youngster we went arter, by Mr. Bofort's +wish, was a pall of his. Scuze the liberty I take. + "J. SHARP." + +While Lord Lilburne held this effusion to the candle, and spelled his way +through it, Captain Smith, recovering his self-composure, thus proceeded: + +"Imposture, my lord! imposture! I really don't understand. Your +lordship really seems so suspicious, that it is quite uncomfortable. I +am sure it is all the same to me; and if Mr. Beaufort does not think +proper to see me himself, why I'd best make my bow." + +And Captain Smith rose. + +"Stay a moment, sir. What Mr. Beaufort may yet do, I cannot say; but I +know this, you stand charged of a very grave offence, and if your witness +or witnesses--you may have fifty, for what I care--are equally guilty, so +much the worse for them." + +"My lord, I really don't comprehend." + +"Then I will be more plain. I accuse you of devising an infamous +falsehood for the purpose of extorting money. Let your witnesses appear +in court, and I promise that you, they, and the young man, Mr. Morton, +whose claim they set up, shall be indicted for conspiracy--conspiracy, if +accompanied (as in the case of your witnesses) with perjury, of the +blackest die. Mr. Smith, I know you; and, before ten o'clock to-morrow, +I shall know also if you had his majesty's leave to quit the colonies! +Ah! I am plain enough now, I see." + +And Lord Lilburne threw himself back in his chair, and coldly +contemplated the white face and dismayed expression of the crestfallen +captain. That most worthy person, after a pause of confusion, amaze, and +fear, made an involuntary stride, with a menacing gesture, towards +Lilburne; the peer quietly placed his hand on the bell. + +"One moment more," said the latter; "if I ring this bell, it is to place +you in custody. Let Mr. Beaufort but see you here once again--nay, let +him but hear another word of this pretended lawsuit--and you return to +the colonies. Pshaw! Frown not at me, sir! A Bow Street officer is in +the hall. Begone!--no, stop one moment, and take a lesson in life. +Never again attempt to threaten people of property and station. Around +every rich man is a wall--better not run your head against it." + +"But I swear solemnly," cried the knave, with an emphasis so startling +that it carried with it the appearance of truth, "that the marriage did +take place." + +"And I say, no less solemnly, that any one who swears it in a court of +law shall be prosecuted for perjury! Bah! you are a sorry rogue, after +all!" + +And with an air of supreme and half-compassionate contempt, Lord Lilburne +turned away and stirred the fire. Captain Smith muttered and fumbled a +moment with his gloves, then shrugged his shoulders and sneaked out. + +That night Lord Lilburne again received his friends, and amongst his +guests came Vaudemont. Lilburne was one who liked the study of +character, especially the character of men wrestling against the world. +Wholly free from every species of ambition, he seemed to reconcile +himself to his apathy by examining into the disquietude, the +mortification, the heart's wear and tear, which are the lot of the +ambitious. Like the spider in his hole, he watched with hungry pleasure +the flies struggling in the web; through whose slimy labyrinth he walked +with an easy safety. Perhaps one reason why he loved gaming was less +from the joy of winning than the philosophical complacency with which he +feasted on the emotions of those who lost; always serene, and, except in +debauch, always passionless,--Majendie, tracing the experiments of +science in the agonies of some tortured dog, could not be more rapt in +the science, and more indifferent to the dog, than Lord Lilburne, ruining +a victim, in the analysis of human passions,--stoical in the writhings of +the wretch whom he tranquilly dissected. He wished to win money of +Vaudemont--to ruin this man, who presumed to be more generous than other +people--to see a bold adventurer submitted to the wheel of the Fortune +which reigns in a pack of cards;--and all, of course, without the least +hate to the man whom he then saw for the first time. On the contrary, he +felt a respect for Vaudemont. Like most worldly men, Lord Lilburne was +prepossessed in favour of those who seek to rise in life: and like men +who have excelled in manly and athletic exercises, he was also +prepossessed in favour of those who appeared fitted for the same success. + +Liancourt took aside his friend, as Lord Lilburne was talking with his +other guests:-- + +"I need not caution you, who never play, not to commit yourself to Lord +Lilburne's tender mercies; remember, he is an admirable player." + +"Nay," answered Vaudemont, "I want to know this man: I have reasons, +which alone induce me to enter his house. I can afford to venture +something, because I wish to see if I can gain something for one dear to +me. And for the rest (he muttered)--I know him too well not to be on my +guard." With that he joined Lord Lilburne's group, and accepted the +invitation to the card-table. At supper, Vaudemont conversed more than +was habitual to him; he especially addressed himself to his host, and +listened, with great attention, to Lilburne's caustic comments upon every +topic successively started. And whether it was the art of De Vaudemont, +or from an interest that Lord Lilburne took in studying what was to him a +new character,--or whether that, both men excelling peculiarly in all +masculine accomplishments, their conversation was of a nature that was +more attractive to themselves than to others; it so happened that they +were still talking while the daylight already peered through the window- +curtains. + +"And I have outstayed all your guests," said De Vaudemont, glancing round +the emptied room. + +"It is the best compliment you could pay me. Another night we can +enliven our _tete-a-tete_ with _ecarte_; though at your age, and with +your appearance, I am surprised, Monsieur de Vaudemont, that you are fond +of play: I should have thought that it was not in a pack of cards that +you looked for hearts. But perhaps you are _blaze_ betimes of the _beau +sexe_." + +"Yet your lordship's devotion to it is, perhaps, as great now as ever?" + +"Mine?--no, not as ever. To different ages different degrees. At your +age I wooed; at mine I purchase--the better plan of the two: it does not +take up half so much time." + +"Your marriage, I think, Lord Lilburne, was not blessed with children. +Perhaps sometimes you feel the want of them?" + +"If I did, I could have them by the dozen. Other ladies have been more +generous in that department than the late Lady Lilburne, Heaven rest +her!" + +"And," said Vaudemont, fixing his eyes with some earnestness on his host, +"if you were really persuaded that you had a child, or perhaps a +grandchild--the mother one whom you loved in your first youth--a child +affectionate, beautiful, and especially needing your care and protection, +would you not suffer that child, though illegitimate, to supply to you +the want of filial affection?" + +"Filial affection, _mon cher_!" repeated Lord Lilburne, "needing my care +and protection! Pshaw! In other words, would I give board and lodging +to some young vagabond who was good enough to say he was son to Lord +Lilburne?" + +"But if you were convinced that the claimant were your son, or perhaps +your daughter--a tenderer name of the two, and a more helpless claimant?" + +"My dear Monsieur de Vaudemont, you are doubtless a man of gallantry and +of the world. If the children whom the law forces on one are, nine times +out of ten, such damnable plagues, judge if one would father those whom +the law permits us to disown! Natural children are the pariahs of the +world, and I--am one of the Brahmans." + +"But," persisted Vaudemont, "forgive me if I press the question farther. +Perhaps I seek from your wisdom a guide to my own conduct;--suppose, +then, a man had loved, had wronged, the mother;--suppose that in the +child he saw one who, without his aid, might be exposed to every curse +with which the pariahs (true, the pariahs!) of the world are too often +visited, and who with his aid might become, as age advanced, his +companion, his nurse, his comforter--" + +"Tush!" interrupted Lilburne, with some impatience; "I know not how our +conversation fell on such a topic--but if you really ask my opinion in +reference to any case in practical life, you shall have it. Look you, +then Monsieur de Vaudemont, no man has studied the art of happiness more +than I have; and I will tell you the great secret--have as few ties as +possible. Nurse!--pooh! you or I could hire one by the week a thousand +times more useful and careful than a bore of a child. Comforter!--a man +of mind never wants comfort. And there is no such thing as sorrow while +we have health and money, and don't care a straw for anybody in the +world. If you choose to love people, their health and circumstances, if +either go wrong, can fret you: that opens many avenues to pain. Never +live alone, but always feel alone. You think this unamiable: possibly. +I am no hypocrite, and, for my part, I never affect to be anything but +what I am--John Lilburne." + +As the peer thus spoke, Vaudemont, leaning against the door, contemplated +him with a strange mixture of interest and disgust. "And John Lilburne +is thought a great man, and William Gawtrey was a great rogue. You don't +conceal your heart?--no, I understand. Wealth and power have no need of +hypocrisy: you are the man of vice--Gawtrey, the man of crime. You never +sin against the law--he was a felon by his trade. And the felon saved +from vice the child, and from want the grandchild (Your flesh and blood) +whom you disown: which will Heaven consider the worse man? No, poor +Fanny, I see I am wrong. If he would own you, I would not give you up to +the ice of such a soul:--better the blind man than the dead heart!" + +"Well, Lord Lilburne," said De Vaudemont aloud, shaking off his reverie, +"I must own that your philosophy seems to me the wisest for yourself. +For a poor man it might be different--the poor need affection." + +"Ay, the poor, certainly," said Lord Lilburne, with an air of patronising +candour. + +"And I will own farther," continued De Vaudemont, "that I have willingly +lost my money in return for the instruction I have received in hearing +you converse." + +"You are kind: come and take your revenge next Thursday. Adieu." + +As Lord Lilburne undressed, and his valet attended him, he said to that +worthy functionary,-- + +"So you have not been able to make out the name of the stranger--the new +lodger you tell me of?" + +"No, my lord. They only say he is a very fine-looking man." + +"You have not seen him?" + +"No, my lord. What do you wish me now to do?" + +"Humph! Nothing at this moment! You manage things so badly, you might +get me into a scrape. I never do anything which the law or the police, +or even the news papers, can get hold of. I must think of some other +way--humph! I never give up what I once commence, and I never fail in +what I undertake! If life had been worth what fools trouble it with-- +business and ambition--I suppose I should have been a great man with a +very bad liver--ha ha! I alone, of all the world, ever found out what +the world was good for! Draw the curtains, Dykeman." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + "_Org._ Welcome, thou ice that sitt'st about _his_ heart + No heat can ever thaw thee!"--FORD: _Broken Heart_. + + "_Nearch._ Honourable infamy!"--Ibid. + + "_Amye._ Her tenderness hath yet deserved no rigour, + So to be crossed by fate!" + + "_Arm._ You misapply, sir, + With favour let me speak it, what Apollo + Hath clouded in dim sense!"--Ibid. + +If Vaudemont had fancied that, considering the age and poverty of Simon, +it was his duty to see whether Fanny's not more legal, but more natural +protector were, indeed, the unredeemed and unmalleable egotist which +Gawtrey had painted him, the conversation of one night was sufficient to +make him abandon for ever the notion of advancing her claims upon Lord +Lilburne. But Philip had another motive in continuing his acquaintance +with that personage. The sight of his mother's grave had recalled to him +the image of that lost brother over whom he had vowed to watch. And, +despite the deep sense of wronged affection with which he yet remembered +the cruel letter that had contained the last tidings of Sidney, Philip's +heart clung with undying fondness to that fair shape associated with all +the happy recollections of childhood; and his conscience as well as his +love asked him, each time that he passed the churchyard, "Will you make +no effort to obey that last prayer of the mother who consigned her +darling to your charge?" Perhaps, had Philip been in want, or had the +name he now bore been sullied by his conduct, he might have shrunk from +seeking one whom he might injure, but could not serve. But though not +rich, he had more than enough for tastes as hardy and simple as any to +which soldier of fortune ever limited his desires. And he thought, with +a sentiment of just and noble pride, that the name which Eugenie had +forced upon him had been borne spotless as the ermine through the trials +and vicissitudes he had passed since he had assumed it. Sidney could +give him nothing, and therefore it was his duty to seek Sidney out. Now, +he had always believed in his heart that the Beauforts were acquainted +with a secret which he more and more pined to penetrate. He would, for +Sidney's sake, smother his hate to the Beauforts; he would not reject +their acquaintance if thrown in his way; nay, secure in his change of +name and his altered features, from all suspicion on their part, he +would seek that acquaintance in order to find his brother and fulfil +Catherine's last commands. His intercourse with Lilburne would +necessarily bring him easily into contact with Lilburne's family. And in +this thought he did not reject the invitations pressed on him. He felt, +too, a dark and absorbing interest in examining a man who was in himself +the incarnation of the World--the World of Art--the World as the Preacher +paints it--the hollow, sensual, sharp-witted, self-wrapped WORLD--the +World that is all for this life, and thinks of no Future and no God! + +Lord Lilburne was, indeed, a study for deep contemplation. A study to +perplex the ordinary thinker, and task to the utmost the analysis of more +profound reflection. William Gawtrey had possessed no common talents; he +had discovered that his life had been one mistake; Lord Lilburne's +intellect was far keener than Gawtrey's, and he had never made, and if he +had lived to the age of Old Parr, never would have made a similar +discovery. He never wrestled against a law, though he slipped through +all laws! And he knew no remorse, for he knew no fear. Lord Lilburne +had married early, and long survived, a lady of fortune, the daughter of +the then Premier--the best match, in fact, of his day. And for one very +brief period of his life he had suffered himself to enter into the field +of politics the only ambition common with men of equal rank. He showed +talents that might have raised one so gifted by circumstance to any +height, and then retired at once into his old habits and old system of +pleasure. "I wished to try," said he once, "if fame was worth one +headache, and I have convinced myself that the man who can sacrifice the +bone in his mouth to the shadow of the bone in the water is a fool." +From that time he never attended the House of Lords, and declared himself +of no political opinions one way or the other. Nevertheless, the world +had a general belief in his powers, and Vaudemont reluctantly subscribed +to the world's verdict. Yet he had done nothing, he had read but little, +he laughed at the world to its face,--and that last was, after all, the +main secret of his ascendancy over those who were drawn into his circle. +That contempt of the world placed the world at his feet. His sardonic +and polished indifference, his professed code that there was no life +worth caring for but his own life, his exemption from all cant, +prejudice, and disguise, the frigid lubricity with which he glided out of +the grasp of the Conventional, whenever it so pleased him, without +shocking the Decorums whose sense is in their ear, and who are not roused +by the deed but by the noise,--all this had in it the marrow and essence +of a system triumphant with the vulgar; for little minds give importance +to the man who gives importance to nothing. Lord Lilburne's authority, +not in matters of taste alone, but in those which the world calls +judgment and common sense, was regarded as an oracle. He cared not a +straw for the ordinary baubles that attract his order; he had refused +both an earldom and the garter, and this was often quoted in his honour. +But you only try a man's virtue when you offer him something that he +covets. The earldom and the garter were to Lord Lilburne no more +tempting inducements than a doll or a skipping-rope; had you offered him +an infallible cure for the gout, or an antidote against old age, you +might have hired him as your lackey on your own terms. Lord Lilburne's +next heir was the son of his only brother, a person entirely dependent on +his uncle. Lord Lilburne allowed him L1000. a year and kept him always +abroad in a diplomatic situation. He looked upon his successor as a man +who wanted power, but not inclination, to become his assassin. + +Though he lived sumptuously and grudged himself nothing, Lord Lilburne +was far from an extravagant man; he might, indeed, be considered close; +for he knew how much of comfort and consideration he owed to his money, +and valued it accordingly; he knew the best speculations and the best +investments. If he took shares in an American canal, you might be sure +that the shares would soon be double in value; if he purchased an +estate, you might be certain it was a bargain. This pecuniary tact and +success necessarily augmented his fame for wisdom. + +He had been in early life a successful gambler, and some suspicions of +his fair play had been noised abroad; but, as has been recently seen in +the instance of a man of rank equal to Lilburne's, though, perhaps, of +less acute if more cultivated intellect, it is long before the pigeon +will turn round upon a falcon of breed and mettle. The rumours, indeed, +were so vague as to carry with them no weight. During the middle of his +career, when in the full flush of health and fortune, he had renounced +the gaming-table. Of late years, as advancing age made time more heavy, +he had resumed the resource, and with all his former good luck. The +money-market, the table, the sex, constituted the other occupations and +amusements with which Lord Lilburne filled up his rosy leisure. + +Another way by which this man had acquired reputation for ability was +this,--he never pretended to any branch of knowledge of which he was +ignorant, any more than to any virtue in which he was deficient. Honesty +itself was never more free from quackery or deception than was this +embodied and walking Vice. If the world chose to esteem him, he did not +buy its opinion by imposture. No man ever saw Lord Lilburne's name in a +public subscription, whether for a new church, or a Bible Society, or a +distressed family, no man ever heard of his doing one generous, +benevolent, or kindly action,--no man was ever startled by one +philanthropic, pious, or amiable sentiment from those mocking lips. Yet, +in spite of all this, John Lord Lilburne was not only esteemed but liked +by the world, and set up in the chair of its Rhadamanthuses. In a word, +he seemed to Vaudemont, and he was so in reality, a brilliant example of +the might of Circumstance--an instance of what may be done in the way of +reputation and influence by a rich, well-born man to whom the will a +kingdom is. A little of genius, and Lord Lilburne would have made his +vices notorious and his deficiencies glaring; a little of heart, and his +habits would have led him into countless follies and discreditable +scrapes. It was the lead and the stone that he carried about him that +preserved his equilibrium, no matter which way the breeze blew. But all +his qualities, positive or negative, would have availed him nothing +without that position which enabled him to take his ease in that inn, the +world--which presented, to every detection of his want of intrinsic +nobleness, the irreproachable respectability of a high name, a splendid +mansion, and a rent-roll without a flaw. Vaudemont drew comparisons +between Lilburne and Gawtrey, and he comprehended at last, why one was a +low rascal and the other a great man. + +Although it was but a few days after their first introduction to each +other, Vaudemont had been twice to Lord Lilburne's, and their +acquaintance was already on an easy footing--when one afternoon as the +former was riding through the streets towards H----, he met the peer +mounted on a stout cob, which, from its symmetrical strength, pure +English breed, and exquisite grooming, showed something of those sporting +tastes for which, in earlier life, Lord Lilburne had been noted. + +"Why, Monsieur de Vaudemont, what brings you to this part of the town?-- +curiosity and the desire to explore?" + +"That might be natural enough in me; but you, who know London so well; +rather what brings you here?" + +"Why I am returned from a long ride. I have had symptoms of a fit of the +gout, and been trying to keep it off by exercise. I have been to a +cottage that belongs to me, some miles from the town--a pretty place +enough, by the way--you must come and see me there next month. I shall +fill the house for a battue! I have some tolerable covers--you are a +good shot, I suppose?" + +"I have not practised, except with a rifle, for some years." + +"That's a pity; for as I think a week's shooting once a year quite +enough, I fear that your visit to me at Fernside may not be sufficiently +long to put your hand in." + +"Fernside!" + +"Yes; is the name familiar to you?" + +"I think I have heard it before. Did your lordship purchase or inherit +it?" + +"I bought it of my brother-in-law. It belonged to his brother--a gay, +wild sort of fellow, who broke his neck over a six-barred gate; through +that gate my friend Robert walked the same day into a very fine estate!" + +"I have heard so. The late Mr. Beaufort, then, left no children?" + +"Yes; two. But they came into the world in the primitive way in which +Mr. Owen wishes us all to come--too naturally for the present state of +society, and Mr. Owen's parallelogram was not ready for them. By the +way, one of them disappeared at Paris;-you never met with him, I +suppose?" + +"Under what name?" + +"Morton." + +"Morton! hem! What Christian name?" + +"Philip." + +"Philip! no. But did Mr. Beaufort do nothing for the young men? I think +I have heard somewhere that he took compassion on one of them." + +"Have you? Ah, my brother-in-law is precisely one of those excellent men +of whom the world always speaks well. No; he would very willingly have +served either or both the boys, but the mother refused all his overtures +and went to law, I fancy. The elder of these bastards turned out a sad +fellow, and the younger,--I don't know exactly where he is, but no doubt +with one of his mother's relations. You seem to interest yourself in +natural children, my dear Vaudemont?" + +"Perhaps you have heard that people have doubted if I were a natural +son?" + +"Ah! I understand now. But are you going?--I was in hopes you would have +turned back my way, and--" + +"You are very good; but I have a particular appointment, and I am now too +late. Good morning, Lord Lilburne." Sidney with one of his mother's +relations! Returned, perhaps, to the Mortons! How had he never before +chanced on a conjecture so probable? He would go at once!--that very +night he would go to the house from which he had taken his brother. At +least, and at the worst, they might give him some clue. + +Buoyed with this hope and this resolve, he rode hastily to H-----, to +announce to Simon and Fanny that he should not return to them, perhaps, +for two or three days. As he entered the suburb, he drew up by the +statuary of whom he had purchased his mother's gravestone. + +The artist of the melancholy trade was at work in his yard. + +"Ho! there!" said Vaudemont, looking over the low railing; "is the tomb +I have ordered nearly finished?" Why, sir, as you were so anxious for +despatch, and as it would take a long time to get a new one ready, I +thought of giving you this, which is finished all but the inscription. +It was meant for Miss Deborah Primme; but her nephew and heir called on +me yesterday to say, that as the poor lady died worth less by L5,000. +than he had expected, he thought a handsome wooden tomb would do as well, +if I could get rid of this for him. It is a beauty, sir. It will look +so cheerful--" + +"Well, that will do: and you can place it now where I told you." + +"In three days, sir." + +"So be it." And he rode on, muttering, "Fanny, your pious wish will be +fulfilled. But flowers,--will they suit that stone?" + +He put up his horse, and walked through the lane to Simon's. + +As he approached the house, he saw Fanny's bright eyes at the window. +She was watching his return. She hastened to open the door to him, and +the world's wanderer felt what music there is in the footstep, what +summer there is in the smile, of Welcome! + +"My dear Fanny," he said, affected by her joyous greeting, "it makes my +heart warm to see you. I have brought you a present from town. When I +was a boy, I remember that my poor mother was fond of singing some simple +songs, which often, somehow or other, come back to me, when I see and +hear you. I fancied you would understand and like them as well at least +as I do--for Heaven knows (he added to himself) my ear is dull enough +generally to the jingle of rhyme." And he placed in her hands a little +volume of those exquisite songs, in which Burns has set Nature to music. + +"Oh! you are so kind, brother," said Fanny, with tears swimming in her +eyes, and she kissed the book. + +After their simple meal, Vaudemont broke to Fanny and Simon the +intelligence of his intended departure for a few days. Simon heard it +with the silent apathy into which, except on rare occasions, his life had +settled. But Fanny turned away her face and wept. + +"It is but for a day or two, Fanny." + +"An hour is very--very long sometimes," said the girl, shaking her head +mournfully. + +"Come, I have a little time yet left, and the air is mild, you have not +been out to-day, shall we walk--" + +"Hem!" interrupted Simon, clearing his throat, and seeming to start into +sudden animation; "had not you better settle the board and lodging before +you go?" + +"Oh, grandfather!" cried Fanny, springing to her feet, with such a blush +upon her face. + +"Nay, child," said Vaudemont, laughingly; your grandfather only +anticipates me. But do not talk of board and lodging; Fanny is as a +sister to me, and our purse is in common." + +"I should like to feel a sovereign--just to feel it," muttered Simon, in +a sort of apologetic tone, that was really pathetic; and as Vaudemont +scattered some coins on the table, the old man clawed them up, chuckling +and talking to himself; and, rising with great alacrity, hobbled out of +the room like a raven carrying some cunning theft to its hiding-place. + +This was so amusing to Vaudemont that he burst out fairly into an +uncontrollable laughter. Fanny looked at him, humbled and wondering for +some moments; and then, creeping to him, put her hand gently on his arm +and said-- + +"Don't laugh--it pains me. It was not nice in grand papa; but--but, it +does not mean anything. It--it--don't laugh--Fanny feels so sad!" + +"Well, you are right. Come, put on your bonnet, we will go out." + +Fanny obeyed; but with less ready delight than usual. And they took +their way through lanes over which hung, still in the cool air, the +leaves of the yellow autumn. + +Fanny was the first to break silence. + +"Do you know," she said, timidly, "that people here think me very silly? +--do you think so too?" + +Vaudemont was startled by the simplicity of the question, and hesitated. +Fanny looked up in his dark face anxiously and inquiringly. + +"Well," she said, "you don't answer?" + +"My dear Fanny, there are some things in which I could wish you less +childlike and, perhaps, less charming. Those strange snatches of song, +for instance!" + +"What! do you not like me to sing? It is my way of talking." + +"Yes; sing, pretty one! But sing something that we can understand,--sing +the songs I have given you, if you will. And now, may I ask why you put +to me that question?" + +"I have forgotten," said Fanny, absently, and looking down. + +Now, at that instant, as Philip Vaudemont bent over the exceeding +sweetness of that young face, a sudden thrill shot through his heart, and +he, too, became silent, and lost in thought. Was it possible that there +could creep into his breast a wilder affection for this creature than +that of tenderness and pity? He was startled as the idea crossed him. +He shrank from it as a profanation--as a crime--as a frenzy. He with his +fate so uncertain and chequered--he to link himself with one so helpless +--he to debase the very poetry that clung to the mental temperament of +this pure being, with the feelings which every fair face may awaken to +every coarse heart--to love Fanny! No, it was impossible! For what +could he love in her but beauty, which the very spirit had forgotten to +guard? And she--could she even know what love was? He despised himself +for even admitting such a thought; and with that iron and hardy vigour +which belonged to his mind, resolved to watch closely against every fancy +that would pass the fairy boundary which separated Fanny from the world +of women. + +He was roused from this self-commune by an abrupt exclamation from his +companion. + +"Oh! I recollect now why I asked you that question. There is one thing +that always puzzles me--I want you to explain it. Why does everything in +life depend upon money? You see even my poor grandfather forgot how good +you are to us both, when--when Ah! I don't understand--it pains--it +puzzles me!" + +"Fanny, look there--no, to the left--you see that old woman, in rags, +crawling wearily along; turn now to the right--you see that fine house +glancing through the trees, with a carriage and four at the gates? The +difference between that old woman and the owner of that house is--Money; +and who shall blame your grandfather for liking Money?" + +Fanny understood; and while the wise man thus moralised, the girl, whom +his very compassion so haughtily contemned, moved away to the old woman +to do her little best to smooth down those disparities from which wisdom +and moralising never deduct a grain! Vaudemont felt this as he saw her +glide towards the beggar; but when she came bounding back to him, she had +forgotten his dislike to her songs, and was chaunting, in the glee of the +heart that a kind act had made glad, one of her own impromptu melodies. + +Vaudemont turned away. Poor Fanny had unconsciously decided his self- +conquest; she guessed not what passed within him, but she suddenly +recollected--what lie had said to her about her songs, and fancied him +displeased. + +"Ah I will never do it again. Brother, don't turn away!" + +"But we must go home. Hark! the clock strikes seven--I have no time to +lose. And you will promise me never to stir out till I return?" + +"I shall have no heart to stir out," said Fanny, sadly; and then in a +more cheerful voice, she added, "And I shall sing the songs you like +before you come back again!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + "Well did they know that service all by rote; + + Some singing loud as if they had complained, + Some with their notes another manner feigned." + CHAUCER: _Pie Cuckoo and the Nightingale,_ + modernised by WORDSWORTH.--HORNE's Edition. + +And once more, sweet Winandermere, we are on the banks of thy happy lake! +The softest ray of the soft clear sun of early autumn trembled on the +fresh waters, and glanced through the leaves of the limes and willows +that were reflected--distinct as a home for the Naiads--beneath the +limpid surface. You might hear in the bushes the young blackbirds +trilling their first untutored notes. And the graceful dragon-fly, his +wings glittering in the translucent sunshine, darted to and fro--the +reeds gathered here and there in the mimic bays that broke the shelving +marge of the grassy shore. + +And by that grassy shore, and beneath those shadowy limes, sat the young +lovers. It was the very place where Spencer had first beheld Camilla. +And now they were met to say, "Farewell!" + +"Oh, Camilla!" said he, with great emotion, and eyes that swam in tears, +"be firm--be true. You know how my whole life is wrapped up in your +love. You go amidst scenes where all will tempt you to forget me. I +linger behind in those which are consecrated by your remembrance, which +will speak to me every hour of you. Camilla, since you do love me--you +do--do you not?--since you have confessed it--since your parents have +consented to our marriage, provided only that your love last (for of mine +there can be no doubt) for one year--one terrible year--shall I not trust +you as truth itself? And yet how darkly I despair at times!" + +Camilla innocently took the hands that, clasped together, were raised to +her, as if in supplication, and pressed them kindly between her own. + +"Do not doubt me--never doubt my affection. Has not my father consented? +Reflect, it is but a year's delay!" + +"A year!--can you speak thus of a year--a whole year? Not to see--not to +hear you for a whole year, except in my dreams! And, if at the end your +parents waver? Your father--I distrust him still. If this delay is but +meant to wean you from me,--if, at the end, there are new excuses found, +--if they then, for some cause or other not now foreseen, still refuse +their assent? You--may I not still look to you?" + +Camilla sighed heavily; and turning her meek face on her lover, said, +timidly, "Never think that so short a time can make me unfaithful, and do +not suspect that my father will break his promise." + +"But, if he does, you will still be mine." + +"Ah, Charles, how could you esteem me as a wife if I were to tell you I +could forget I am a daughter?" + +This was said so touchingly, and with so perfect a freedom from all +affectation, that her lover could only reply by covering her hand with +his kisses. And it was not till after a pause that he continued +passionately,-- + +"You do but show me how much deeper is my love than yours. You can never +dream how I love you. But I do not ask you to love me as well--it would +be impossible. My life from my earliest childhood has been passed in +these solitudes;--a happy life, though tranquil and monotonous, till you +suddenly broke upon it. You seemed to me the living form of the very +poetry I had worshipped--so bright--so heavenly--I loved you from the +very first moment that we met. I am not like other men of my age. I +have no pursuit--no occupation--nothing to abstract me from your thought. +And I love you so purely--so devotedly, Camilla. I have never known even +a passing fancy for another. You are the first--the only woman--it ever +seemed to me possible to love. You are my Eve--your presence my +paradise! Think how sad I shall be when you are gone--how I shall visit +every spot your footstep has hallowed--how I shall count every moment +till the year is past!" + +While he thus spoke, he had risen in that restless agitation which +belongs to great emotion; and Camilla now rose also, and said soothingly, +as she laid her hand on his shoulder with tender but modest frankness: + +"And shall I not also think of you? I am sad to feel that you will be so +much alone--no sister--no brother!" + +"Do not grieve for that. The memory of you will be dearer to me than +comfort from all else. And you will be true!" + +Camilla made no answer by words, but her eyes and her colour spoke. And +in that moment, while plighting eternal truth, they forgot that they were +about to part! + +Meanwhile, in a room in the house which, screened by the foliage, was +only partially visible where the lovers stood, sat Mr. Robert Beaufort +and Mr. Spencer. + +"I assure you, sir," said the former, "that I am not insensible to the +merits of your nephew and to the very handsome proposals you make, still +I cannot consent to abridge the time I have named. They are both very +young. What is a year?" + +"It is a long time when it is a year of suspense," said the recluse, +shaking his head. + +"It is a longer time when it is a year of domestic dissension and +repentance. And it is a very true proverb, 'Marry in haste and repent at +leisure.' No! If at the end of the year the young people continue of +the same mind, and no unforeseen circumstances occur--" + +"No unforeseen circumstances, Mr. Beaufort!--that is a new condition--it +is a very vague phrase." + +"My dear sir, it is hard to please you. Unforeseen circumstances," said +the wary father, with a wise look, "mean circumstances that we don't +foresee at present. I assure you that I have no intention to trifle with +you, and I shall be sincerely happy in so respectable a connexion." + +"The young people may write to each other?" + +Why, I'll consult Mrs. Beaufort. At all events, it must not be very +often, and Camilla is well brought up, and will show all the letters to +her mother. I don't much like a correspondence of that nature. It often +leads to unpleasant results; if, for instance--" + +"If what?" + +"Why, if the parties change their minds, and my girl were to marry +another. It is not prudent in matters of business, my dear sir, to put +down anything on paper that can be avoided." + +Mr. Spencer opened his eyes. "Matters of business, Mr. Beaufort!" + +"Well, is not marriage a matter of business, and a very grave matter too? +More lawsuits about marriage and settlements, &c., than I like to think +of. But to change the subject. You have never heard anything more of +those young men, you say?" + +"No," said Mr. Spencer, rather inaudibly, and looking down. + +"And it is your firm impression that the elder one, Philip, is dead?" + +"I don't doubt it." + +"That was a very vexatious and improper lawsuit their mother brought +against me. Do you know that some wretched impostor, who, it appears, is +a convict broke loose before his time, has threatened me with another, on +the part of one of those young men? You never heard anything of it--eh?" + +"Never, upon my honour." + +"And, of course, you would not countenance so villanous an attempt?" + +"Certainly not." + +"Because that would break off our contract at once. But you are too much +a gentleman and a man of honour. Forgive me so improper a question. As +for the younger Mr. Morton, I have no ill-feeling against him. But the +elder! Oh, a thorough reprobate! a very alarming character! I could +have nothing to do with any member of the family while the elder lived; +it would only expose me to every species of insult and imposition. And +now I think we have left our young friends alone long enough. + +"But stay, to prevent future misunderstanding, I may as well read over +again the heads of the arrangement you honour me by proposing. You agree +to settle your fortune after your decease, amounting to L23,000. and +your house, with twenty-five acres one rood and two poles, more or less, +upon your nephew and my daughter, jointly--remainder to their children. +Certainly, without offence, in a worldly point of view, Camilla might do +better; still, you are so very respectable, and you speak so handsomely, +that I cannot touch upon that point; and I own, that though there is a +large nominal rent-roll attached to Beaufort Court (indeed, there is not +a finer property in the county), yet there are many incumbrances, and +ready money would not be convenient to me. Arthur--poor fellow, a very +fine young man, sir,--is, as I have told you in perfect confidence, a +little imprudent and lavish; in short, your offer to dispense with any +dowry is extremely liberal, and proves your nephew is actuated by no +mercenary feelings: such conduct prepossesses me highly in your favour +and his too." + +Mr. Spencer bowed, and the great man rising, with a stiff affectation of +kindly affability, put his arm into the uncle's, and strolled with him +across the lawn towards the lovers. And such is life-love on the lawn +and settlements in the parlour. + +The lover was the first to perceive the approach of the elder parties. +And a change came over his face as he saw the dry aspect and marked the +stealthy stride of his future father-in-law; for then there flashed +across him a dreary reminiscence of early childhood; the happy evening +when, with his joyous father, that grave and ominous aspect was first +beheld; and then the dismal burial, the funereal sables, the carriage at +the door, and he himself clinging to the cold uncle to ask him to say a +word of comfort to the mother, who now slept far away. "Well, my young +friend," said Mr. Beaufort, patronisingly, "your good uncle and myself +are quite agreed--a little time for reflection, that's all. Oh! I don't +think the worse of you for wishing to abridge it. But papas must be +papas." + +There was so little jocular about that sedate man, that this attempt at +jovial good humour seemed harsh and grating--the hinges of that wily +mouth wanted oil for a hearty smile. + +"Come, don't be faint-hearted, Mr. Charles. 'Faint heart,'--you know the +proverb. You must stay and dine with us. We return to-morrow to town. +I should tell you, that I received this morning a letter from my son +Arthur, announcing his return from Baden, so we must give him the +meeting--a very joyful one you may guess. We have not seen him these +three years. Poor fellow! he says be has been very ill and the waters +have ceased to do him any good. But a little quiet and country air at +Beaufort Court will set him up, I hope." + +Thus running on about his son, then about his shooting--about Beaufort +Court and its splendours--about parliament and its fatigues--about the +last French Revolution, and the last English election--about Mrs. +Beaufort and her good qualities and bad health--about, in short, +everything relating to himself, some things relating to the public, and +nothing that related to the persons to whom his conversation was +directed, Mr. Robert Beaufort wore away half an hour, when the Spencer's +took their leave, promising to return to dinner. + +"Charles," said Mr. Spencer, as the boat, which the young man rowed, +bounded over the water towards their quiet home; "Charles, I dislike +these Beauforts!" + +"Not the daughter?" + +"No, she is beautiful, and seems good; not so handsome as your poor +mother, but who ever was?"--here Mr. Spencer sighed, and repeated some +lines from Shenstone. + +"Do you think Mr. Beaufort suspects in the least who I am?" + +"Why, that puzzles me; I rather think he does." + +"And that is the cause of the delay? I knew it." + +"No, on the contrary, I incline to think he has some kindly feeling to +you, though not to your brother, and that it is such a feeling that made +him consent to your marriage. He sifted me very closely as to what I +knew of the young Mortons--observed that you were very handsome, and that +he had fancied at first that he had seen you before." + +"Indeed !" + +"Yes: and looked hard at me while he spoke; and said more than once, +significantly, 'So his name is Charles?' He talked about some attempt at +imposture and litigation, but that was, evidently, merely invented to +sound me about your brother--whom, of course, he spoke ill of--impressing +on me three or four times that he would never have anything to say to any +of the family while Philip lived." + +"And you told him," said the young man, hesitatingly, and with a deep +blush of shame over his face, "that you were persuaded--that is, that you +believed Philip was--was--" + +"Was dead! Yes--and without confusion. For the more I reflect, the more +I think he must be dead. At all events, you may be sure that he is dead +to us, that we shall never hear more of him." + +"Poor Philip!" + +"Your feelings are natural; they are worthy of your excellent heart; but +remember, what would have become of you if you had stayed with him!" + +"True!" said the brother, with a slight shudder--"a career of +suffering--crime--perhaps the gibbet! Ah! what do I owe you?" + +The dinner-party at Mr. Beaufort's that day was constrained and formal, +though the host, in unusual good humour, sought to make himself +agreeable. Mrs. Beaufort, languid and afflicted with headache, said +little. The two Spencers were yet more silent. But the younger sat next +to her he loved; and both hearts were full: and in the evening they +contrived to creep apart into a corner by the window, through which the +starry heavens looked kindly on them. They conversed in whispers, with +long pauses between each: and at times Camilla's tears flowed silently +down her cheeks, and were followed by the false smiles intended to cheer +her lover. + +Time did not fly, but crept on breathlessly and heavily. And then came +the last parting--formal, cold--before witnesses. But the lover could +not restrain his emotion, and the hard father heard his suppressed sob as +he closed the door. + +It will now be well to explain the cause of Mr. Beaufort's heightened +spirits, and the motives of his conduct with respect to his daughter's +suitor. + +This, perhaps, can be best done by laying before the reader the following +letters that passed between Mr. Beaufort and Lord Lilburne. + + +From LORD LILBURNE to ROBERT BEAUFORT, ESQ., M.P. + +"DEAR BEAUFORT,--I think I have settled, pretty satisfactorily, your +affair with your unwelcome visitor. The first thing it seemed to me +necessary to do, was to learn exactly what and who he was, and with what +parties that could annoy you he held intercourse. I sent for Sharp, the +Bow Street officer, and placed him in the hall to mark, and afterwards to +dog and keep watch on your new friend. The moment the latter entered I +saw at once, from his dress and his address, that he was a 'scamp;' and +thought it highly inexpedient to place you in his power by any money +transactions. While talking with him, Sharp sent in a billet containing +his recognition of our gentleman as a transported convict. + +"I acted accordingly; soon saw, from the fellow's manner, that he had +returned before his time; and sent him away with a promise, which you may +be sure he believes will be kept, that if he molest you farther, he shall +return to the colonies, and that if his lawsuit proceed, his witness or +witnesses shall be indicted for conspiracy and perjury. Make your mind +easy so far. For the rest, I own to you that I think what he says +probable enough: but my object in setting Sharp to watch him is to learn +what other parties he sees. And if there be really anything formidable +in his proofs or witnesses, it is with those other parties I advise you +to deal. Never transact business with the go between, if you can with +the principal. Remember, the two young men are the persons to arrange +with after all. They must be poor, and therefore easily dealt with. +For, if poor, they will think a bird in the hand worth two in the bush of +a lawsuit. + +"If, through Mr. Spencer, you can learn anything of either of the young +men, do so; and try and open some channel, through which you can always +establish a communication with them, if necessary. Perhaps, by learning +their early history, you may learn something to put them into your power. + +"I have had a twinge of the gout this morning, and am likely, I fear, to +be laid up for some weeks. + +"Yours truly, + +"LILBURNE. + +"P.S.--Sharp has just been here. He followed the man who calls himself +'Captain Smith' to a house in Lambeth, where he lodges, and from which he +did not stir till midnight, when Sharp ceased his watch. On renewing it +this morning, he found that the captain had gone off, to what place Sharp +has not yet discovered. + +"Burn this immediately." + + +From ROBERT BEAUFORT, ESQ., M.P., to the LORD LILBURNE. + +"DEAR, LILBURNE,--Accept my warmest thanks for your kindness; you have +done admirably, and I do not see that I have anything further to +apprehend. I suspect that it was an entire fabrication on that man's +part, and your firmness has foiled his wicked designs. Only think, I +have discovered--I am sure of it--one of the Mortons; and he, too, though +the younger, yet, in all probability, the sole pretender the fellow could +set up. You remember that the child Sidney had disappeared +mysteriously,--you remember also, how much that Mr. Spencer had +interested himself in finding out the same Sidney. Well,--this gentleman +at the Lakes is, as we suspected, the identical Mr. Spencer, and his soi- +disant nephew, Camilla's suitor, is assuredly no other than the lost +Sidney. The moment I saw the young man I recognised him, for he is very +little altered, and has a great look of his mother into the bargain. +Concealing my more than suspicions, I, however, took care to sound Mr. +Spencer (a very poor soul), and his manner was so embarrassed as to leave +no doubt of the matter; but in asking him what he had heard of the +brothers, I had the satisfaction of learning that, in all human +probability, the elder is dead: of this Mr. Spencer seems convinced. +I also assured myself that neither Spencer nor the young man had the +remotest connection with our Captain Smith, nor any idea of litigation. +This is very satisfactory, you will allow. And now, I hope you will +approve of what I have done. I find that young Morton, or Spencer, as he +is called, is desperately enamoured of Camilla; he seems a meek, well- +conditioned, amiable young man; writes poetry;--in short, rather weak +than otherwise. I have demanded a year's delay, to allow mutual trial +and reflection. This gives us the channel for constant information which +you advise me to establish, and I shall have the opportunity to learn if +the impostor makes any communication to them, or if there be any news of +the brother. If by any trick or chicanery (for I will never believe that +there was a marriage) a lawsuit that might be critical or hazardous can +be cooked up, I can, I am sure, make such terms with Sidney, through his +love for my daughter, as would effectively and permanently secure me from +all further trouble and machinations in regard to my property. And if, +during the year, we convince ourselves that, after all, there is not a +leg of law for any claimant to stand on, I may be guided by other +circumstances how far I shall finally accept or reject the suit. That +must depend on any other views we may then form for Camilla; and I shall +not allow a hint of such an engagement to get abroad. At the worst, as +Mr. Spencer's heir, it is not so very bad a match, seeing that they +dispense with all marriage portion, &c.--a proof how easily they can be +managed. I have not let Mr. Spencer see that I have discovered his +secret--I can do that or not, according to circumstances hereafter; +neither have I said anything of my discovery to Mrs. B., or Camilla. At +present, 'Least said soonest mended.' I heard from Arthur to-day. He is +on his road home, and we hasten to town, sooner than we expected, to meet +him. He complains still of his health. We shall all go down to Beaufort +Court. I write this at night, the pretended uncle and sham nephew having +just gone. But though we start to-morrow, you will get this a day or two +before we arrive, as Mrs. Beaufort's health renders short stages +necessary. I really do hope that Arthur, also, will not be an invalid, +poor fellow! one in a family is quite enough; and I find Mrs. Beaufort's +delicacy very inconvenient, especially in moving about and in keeping up +one's county connexions. A young man's health, however, is soon +restored. I am very sorry to hear of your gout, except that it carries +off all other complaints. I am very well, thank Heaven; indeed, my +health has been much better of late years: Beaufort Court agrees with me +so well! The more I reflect, the more I am astonished at the monstrous +and wicked impudence of that fellow--to defraud a man out of his own +property! You are quite right,--certainly a conspiracy. + +"Yours truly, + +"R. B." + +"P. S.--I shall keep a constant eye on the Spencers. + +"Burn this immediately." + + +After he had written and sealed this letter, Mr. Beaufort went to bed and +slept soundly. + +And the next day that place was desolate, and the board on the lawn +announced that it was again to be let. But thither daily, in rain or +sunshine, came the solitary lover, as a bird that seeks its young in the +deserted nest:--Again and again he haunted the spot where he had strayed +with the lost one,--and again and again murmured his passionate vows +beneath the fast-fading limes. Are those vows destined to be ratified or +annulled? Will the absent forget, or the lingerer be consoled? Had the +characters of that young romance been lightly stamped on the fancy where +once obliterated they are erased for ever,--or were they graven deep in +those tablets where the writing, even when invisible, exists still, and +revives, sweet letter by letter, when the light and the warmth borrowed +from the One Bright Presence are applied to the faithful record? There +is but one Wizard to disclose that secret, as all others,--the old Grave- +digger, whose Churchyard is the Earth,--whose trade is to find burial- +places for Passions that seemed immortal,--disinterring the ashes of some +long-crumbling Memory--to hollow out the dark bed of some new-perished +Hope:--He who determines all things, and prophesies none,--for his +oracles are uncomprehended till the doom is sealed--He who in the bloom +of the fairest affection detects the hectic that consumes it, and while +the hymn rings at the altar, marks with his joyless eye the grave for the +bridal vow.--Wherever is the sepulchre, there is thy temple, O melancholy +Time! + + + + + + + +BOOK V. + + +CHAPTER I. + + "Per ambages et ministeria deorum."--PETRONTUS. + + [Through the mysteries and ministerings of the gods.] + +Mr. Roger Morton was behind his counter one drizzling, melancholy day. +Mr. Roger Morton, alderman, and twice mayor of his native town, was a +thriving man. He had grown portly and corpulent. The nightly potations +of brandy and water, continued year after year with mechanical +perseverance, had deepened the roses on his cheek. Mr. Roger Morton was +never intoxicated--he "only made himself comfortable." His constitution +was strong; but, somehow or other, his digestion was not as good as it +might be. He was certain that something or other disagreed with him. He +left off the joint one day--the pudding another. Now he avoided +vegetables as poison--and now he submitted with a sigh to the doctor's +interdict of his cigar. Mr. Roger Morton never thought of leaving off +the brandy and water: and he would have resented as the height of +impertinent insinuation any hint upon that score to a man of so sober +and respectable a character. + +Mr. Roger Morton was seated--for the last four years, ever since his +second mayoralty, he had arrogated to himself the dignity of a chair. He +received rather than served his customers. The latter task was left to +two of his sons. For Tom, after much cogitation, the profession of an +apothecary had been selected. Mrs. Morton observed, that it was a +genteel business, and Tom had always been a likely lad. And Mr. Roger +considered that it would be a great comfort and a great saving to have +his medical adviser in his own son. + +The other two sons and the various attendants of the shop were plying the +profitable trade, as customer after customer, with umbrellas and in +pattens, dropped into the tempting shelter--when a man, meanly dressed, +and who was somewhat past middle age, with a careworn, hungry face, +entered timidly. He waited in patience by the crowded counter, elbowed +by sharp-boned and eager spinsters--and how sharp the elbows of spinsters +are, no man can tell who has not forced his unwelcome way through the +agitated groups in a linendraper's shop!--the man, I say, waited +patiently and sadly, till the smallest of the shopboys turned from a +lady, who, after much sorting and shading, had finally decided on two +yards of lilac-coloured penny riband, and asked, in an insinuating +professional tone,-- + +"What shall I show you, sir?" + +"I wish to speak to Mr. Morton. Which is he?" + +"Mr. Morton is engaged, sir. I can give you what you want." + +"No--it is a matter of business--important business." The boy eyed the +napless and dripping hat, the gloveless hands, and the rusty neckcloth of +the speaker; and said, as he passed his fingers through a profusion of +light curls "Mr. Morton don't attend much to business himself now; but +that's he. Any cravats, sir?" + +The man made no answer, but moved where, near the window, and chatting +with the banker of the town (as the banker tried on a pair of beaver +gloves), sat still--after due apology for sitting--Mr. Roger Morton. + +The alderman lowered his spectacles as he glanced grimly at the lean +apparition that shaded the spruce banker, and said,-- + +"Do you want me, friend?" + +"Yes, sir, if you please;" and the man took off his shabby hat, and bowed +low. + +"Well, speak out. No begging petition, I hope?" + +"No, sir! Your nephews--" + +The banker turned round, and in his turn eyed the newcomer. The +linendraper started back. + +"Nephews!" he repeated, with a bewildered look. "What does the man mean? +Wait a bit." + +"Oh, I've done!" said the banker, smiling. "I am glad to find we agree +so well upon this question: I knew we should. Our member will never suit +us if he goes on in this way. Trade must take care of itself. Good day +to You!" + +"Nephews!" repeated Mr. Morton, rising, and beckoning to the man to +follow him into the back parlour, where Mrs. Morton sat casting up the +washing bills. + +"Now," said the husband, closing the door, "what do you mean, my good +fellow?" + +"Sir, what I wish to ask you is-if you can tell me what has become of--of +the young Beau--, that is, of your sister's sons. I understand there +were two--and I am told that--that they are both dead. Is it so?" + +"What is that to you, friend?" + +"An please you, sir, it is a great deal to them!" + +"Yes--ha! ha! it is a great deal to everybody whether they are alive or +dead!" Mr. Morton, since he had been mayor, now and then had his joke. +"But really--" + +"Roger!" said Mrs. Morton, under her breath--"Roger!" + +"Yes, my dear." + +"Come this way--I want to speak to you about this bill." The husband +approached, and bent over his wife. "Who's this man?" + +"I don't know." + +"Depend on it, he has some claim to make-some bills or something. Don't +commit yourself--the boys are dead for what we know!" + +Mr. Morton hemmed and returned to his visitor. + +"To tell you the truth, I am not aware of what has become of the young +men." + +"Then they are not dead--I thought not!" exclaimed the man, joyously. + +"That's more than I can say. It's many years since I lost sight of the +only one I ever saw; and they may be both dead for what I know." + +"Indeed!" said the man. "Then you can give me no kind of--of--hint like, +to find them out?" + +"No. Do they owe you anything?" + +"It does not signify talking now, sir. I beg your pardon." + +"Stay--who are you?" + +"I am a very poor man, sir." + +Mr. Morton recoiled. + +"Poor! Oh, very well--very well. You have done with me now. Good day-- +good day. I'm busy." + +The stranger pecked for a moment at his hat--turned the handle of the +door-peered under his grey eyebrows at the portly trader, who, with both +hands buried in his pockets, his mouth pursed up, like a man about to say +"No" fidgeted uneasily behind Mrs. Morton's chair. He sighed, shook his +head, and vanished. + +Mrs. Morton rang the bell-the maid-servant entered. "Wipe the carpet, +Jenny;--dirty feet! Mr. Morton, it's a Brussels!" + +"It was not my fault, my dear. I could not talk about family matters +before the whole shop. Do you know, I'd quite forgot those poor boys. +This unsettles me. Poor Catherine! she was so fond of them. A pretty +boy that Sidney, too. What can have become of them? My heart rebukes +me. I wish I had asked the man more." + +"More!--why he was just going to beg." + +"Beg--yes--very true!" said Mr. Morton, pausing irresolutely; and then, +with a hearty tone, he cried out, "And, damme, if he had begged, I could +afford him a shilling! I'll go after him." So saying, he hastened back +through the shop, but the man was gone--the rain was falling, Mr. Morton +had his thin shoes on--he blew his nose, and went back to the counter. +But, there, still rose to his memory the pale face of his dead sister; +and a voice murmured in his ear, "Brother, where is my child?" + +"Pshaw! it is not my fault if he ran away. Bob, go and get me the county +paper." + +Mr. Morton had again settled himself, and was deep in a trial for murder, +when another stranger strode haughtily into the shop. The new-comer, +wrapped in a pelisse of furs, with a thick moustache, and an eye that +took in the whole shop, from master to boy, from ceiling to floor, in a +glance, had the air at once of a foreigner and a soldier. Every look +fastened on him, as he paused an instant, and then walking up to the +alderman, said,-- + +"Sir, you are doubtless Mr. Morton?" + +"At your commands, sir," said Roger, rising involuntarily. + +"A word with you, then, on business." + +"Business!" echoed Mr. Morton, turning rather pale, for he began to +think himself haunted; "anything in my line, sir? I should be--" + +The stranger bent down his tall stature, and hissed into Mr. Morton's +foreboding ear: + +"Your nephews!" + +Mr. Morton was literally dumb-stricken. Yes, he certainly was haunted! +He stared at this second questioner, and fancied that there was something +very supernatural and unearthly about him. He was so tall, and so dark, +and so stern, and so strange. Was it the Unspeakable himself come for +the linendraper? Nephews again! The uncle of the babes in the wood +could hardly have been more startled by the demand! + +"Sir," said Mr. Morton at last, recovering his dignity and somewhat +peevishly,--"sir, I don't know why people should meddle with my family +affairs. I don't ask other folks about their nephews. I have no nephew +that I know of." + +"Permit me to speak to you, alone, for one instant." Mr. Morton sighed, +hitched up his trousers, and led the way to the parlour, where Mrs. +Morton, having finished the washing bills, was now engaged in tying +certain pieces of bladder round certain pots of preserves. The eldest +Miss Morton, a young woman of five or six-and-twenty, who was about to be +very advantageously married to a young gentleman who dealt in coals and +played the violin (for N----- was a very musical town), had just joined +her for the purpose of extorting "The Swiss Boy, with variations," out of +a sleepy little piano, that emitted a very painful cry under the +awakening fingers of Miss Margaret Morton. + +Mr. Morton threw open the door with a grunt, and the stranger pausing at +the threshold, the full flood of sound (key C) upon which "the Swiss Boy" +was swimming along, "kine" and all, for life and death, came splash upon +him. + +"Silence! can't you?" cried the father, putting one hand to his ear, +while with the other he pointed to a chair; and as Mrs. Morton looked up +from the preserves with that air of indignant suffering with which female +meekness upbraids a husband's wanton outrage, Mr. Roger added, shrugging +his shoulders,-- + +"My nephews again, Mrs. K!" + +Miss Margaret turned round, and dropped a courtesy. Mrs. Morton gently +let fall a napkin over the preserves, and muttered a sort of salutation, +as the stranger, taking off his hat, turned to mother and daughter one of +those noble faces in which Nature has written her grant and warranty of +the lordship of creation. + +"Pardon me," he said, "if I disturb you. But my business will be short. +I have come to ask you, sir, frankly, and as one who has a right to ask +it, what tidings you can give me of Sidney Morton?" + +"Sir, I know nothing whatever about him. He was taken from my house, +about twelve years since, by his brother. Myself, and the two Mr. +Beauforts, and another friend of the family, went in search of them both. +My search failed." + +"And theirs?" + +"I understood from Mr. Beaufort that they had not been more successful. +I have had no communication with those gentlemen since. But that's +neither here nor there. In all probability, the elder of the boys--who, +I fear, was a sad character--corrupted and ruined his brother; and, by +this time, Heaven knows what and where they are." + +"And no one has inquired of you since--no one has asked the brother of +Catherine Morton, nay, rather of Catherine Beaufort--where is the child +intrusted to your care?" + +This question, so exactly similar to that which his superstition had rung +on his own ears, perfectly appalled the worthy alderman. He staggered +back-stared at the marked and stern face that lowered upon him--and at +last cried,-- + +"For pity's sake, sir, be just! What could I do for one who left me of +his own accord?--" + +"The day you had beaten him like a dog. You see, Mr. Morton, I know +all." + +"And what are you?" said Mr. Morton, recovering his English courage, and +feeling himself strangely browbeaten in his own house;--"What and who are +you, that you thus take the liberty to catechise a man of my character +and respectability?" + +"Twice mayor--" began Mrs. Morton. + +"Hush, mother!" whispered Miss Margaret,--"don't work him up." + +"I repeat, sir, what are you?" + +"What am I?--your nephew! Who am I? Before men, I bear a name that I +have assumed, and not dishonoured--before Heaven I am Philip Beaufort!" + +Mrs. Morton dropped down upon her stool. Margaret murmured "My cousin!" +in a tone that the ear of the musical coal-merchant might not have +greatly relished. And Mr. Morton, after a long pause, came up with a +frank and manly expression of joy, and said:-- + +"Then, sir, I thank Heaven, from my heart, that one of my sister's +children stands alive before me!" + +"And now, again, I--I whom you accuse of having corrupted and ruined him +--him for whom I toiled and worked--him, who was to me, then, as a last +surviving son to some anxious father--I, from whom he was reft and robbed +--I ask you again for Sidney--for my brother!" + +"And again, I say, that I have no information to give you--that--Stay a +moment-stay. You must pardon what I have said of you before you made +yourself known. I went but by the accounts I had received from Mr. +Beaufort. Let, me speak plainly; that gentleman thought, right or wrong, +that it would be a great thing to separate your brother from you. He may +have found him--it must be so--and kept his name and condition concealed +from us all, lest you should detect it. Mrs. M., don't you think so?" + +"I'm sure I'm so terrified I don't know what to think," said Mrs. Morton, +putting her hand to her forehead, and see-sawing herself to and fro upon +her stool. + +"But since they wronged you--since you--you seem so very--very--" + +"Very much the gentleman," suggested Miss Margaret. "Yes, so much the +gentleman;--well off, too, I should hope, sir,"--and the experienced eye +of Mr. Morton glanced at the costly sables that lined the pelisse,-- +"there can be no difficulty in your learning from Mr. Beaufort all that +you wish to know. And pray, sir, may I ask, did you send any one here +to-day to make the very inquiry you have made?" + +"I?--No. What do you mean?" + +"Well, well--sit down--there may be something in all this that you may +make out better than I can." + +And as Philip obeyed, Mr. Morton, who was really and honestly rejoiced to +see his sister's son alive and apparently thriving, proceeded to relate +pretty exactly the conversation he had held with the previous visitor. +Philip listened earnestly and with attention. Who could this questioner +be? Some one who knew his birth--some one who sought him out?--some one, +who--Good Heavens! could it be the long-lost witness of the marriage? + +As soon as that idea struck him, be started from his seat and entreated +Morton to accompany him in search of the stranger. "You know not," he +said, in a tone impressed with that energy of will in which lay the +talent of his mind,--"you know not of what importance this may be to my +prospects--to your sister's fair name. If it should be the witness +returned at last! Who else, of the rank you describe, would be +interested in such inquiries? Come!" + +"What witness?" said Mrs. Morton, fretfully. "You don't mean to come +over us with the old story of the marriage?" + +"Shall your wife slander your own sister, sir? A marriage there was--God +yet will proclaim the right--and the name of Beaufort shall be yet placed +on my mother's gravestone. Come!" + +"Here are your shoes and umbrella, pa," cried Miss Margaret, inspired by +Philip's earnestness. + +"My fair cousin, I guess," and as the soldier took her hand, he kissed +the unreluctant cheek--turned to the door--Mr. Morton placed his arm in +his, and the next moment they were in the street. + +When Catherine, in her meek tones, had said, "Philip Beaufort was my +husband," Roger Morton had disbelieved her. And now one word from the +son, who could, in comparison, know so little of the matter, had almost +sufficed to convert and to convince the sceptic. Why was this? +Because--Man believes the Strong! + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + "--Quid Virtus et quid Sapientia possit + Utile proposuit nobis exemplar _Ulssem_." HOR. + + ["He has proposed to us Ulysses as a useful example of how + much may be accomplished by Virtue and Wisdom."] + +Meanwhile the object of their search, on quitting Mr. Morton's shop, had +walked slowly and sadly on, through the plashing streets, till he came to +a public house in the outskirts and on the high road to London. Here he +took shelter for a short time, drying himself by the kitchen fire, with +the license purchased by fourpenny-worth of gin; and having learned that +the next coach to London would not pass for some hours, he finally +settled himself in the Ingle, till the guard's horn should arouse him. +By the same coach that the night before had conveyed Philip to N----, had +the very man he sought been also a passenger! + +The poor fellow was sickly and wearied out: he had settled into a doze, +when he was suddenly wakened by the wheels of a coach and the trampling +of horses. Not knowing how long he had slept, and imagining that the +vehicle he had awaited was at the door, he ran out. It was a coach +coming from London, and the driver was joking with a pretty barmaid who, +in rather short petticoats, was fielding up to him the customary glass. +The man, after satisfying himself that his time was not yet come, was +turning back to the fire, when a head popped itself out of the window, +and a voice cried, "Stars and garters! Will--so that's you!" At the +sound of the voice the man halted abruptly, turned very pale, and his +limbs trembled. The inside passenger opened the door, jumped out with a +little carpet-bag in his hand, took forth a long leathern purse from +which he ostentatiously selected the coins that paid his fare and +satisfied the coachman, and then, passing his arm through that of the +acquaintance he had discovered, led him back into the house. + +"Will--Will," he whispered, "you have been to the Mortons. Never moind-- +let's hear all. Jenny or Dolly, or whatever your sweet praetty name is-- +a private room and a pint of brandy, my dear. Hot water and lots of the +grocery. That's right." + +And as soon as the pair found themselves, with the brandy before them, in +a small parlour with a good fire, the last comer went to the door, shut +it cautiously, flung his bag under the table, took off his gloves, spread +himself wider and wider before the fire, until he had entirely excluded +every ray from his friend, and then suddenly turning so that the back +might enjoy what the front had gained, he exclaimed. + +"Damme, Will, you're a praetty sort of a broather to give me the slip in +that way. But in this world every man for his-self!" + +"I tell you," said William, with something like decision in his voice, +"that I will not do any wrong to these young men if they live." + +"Who asks you to do a wrong to them?--booby! Perhaps I may be the best +friend they may have yet--ay, or you too, though you're the ungratefulest +whimsicallist sort of a son of a gun that ever I came across. Come, help +yourself, and don't roll up your eyes in that way, like a Muggletonian +asoide of a Fye-Fye!" + +Here the speaker paused a moment, and with a graver and more natural tone +of voice proceeded: + +"So you did not believe me when I told you that these brothers were dead, +and you have been to the Mortons to learn more?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, and what have you learned?" + +"Nothing. Morton declares that he does not know that they are alive, but +he says also that he does not know that they are dead." + +"Indeed," said the other, listening with great attention; "and you really +think that he does not know anything about them?" + +"I do, indeed." + +"Hum! Is he a sort of man who would post down the rhino to help the +search?" + +"He looked as if he had the yellow fever when I said I was poor," +returned William, turning round, and trying to catch a glimpse at the +fire, as he gulped his brandy and water. + +"Then I'll be d---d if I run the risk of calling. I have done some +things in this town by way of business before now; and though it's a long +time ago, yet folks don't forget a haundsome man in a hurry--especially +if he has done 'em! Now, then, listen to me. You see, I have given this +matter all the 'tention in my power. 'If the lads be dead,' said I to +you, 'it is no use burning one's fingers by holding a candle to bones in +a coffin. But Mr. Beaufort need not know they are dead, and we'll see +what we can get out of him; and if I succeeds, as I think I shall, you +and I may hold up our heads for the rest of our life.' Accordingly, as I +told you, I went to Mr. Beaufort, and--'Gad, I thought we had it all our +own way. But since I saw you last, there's been the devil and all. When +I called again, Will, I was shown in to an old lord, sharp as a gimblet. +Hang me, William, if he did not frighten me out of my seven senses!" + +Here Captain Smith (the reader has, no doubt, already discovered that the +speaker was no less a personage) took three or four nervous strides +across the room, returned to the table, threw himself in a chair, placed +one foot on one hob, and one on the other, laid his finger on his nose, +and, with a significant wink, said in a whisper, "Will, he knew I had +been lagged! He not only refused to hear all I had to say, but +threatened to prosecute--persecute, hang, draw, and quarter us both, if +we ever dared to come out with the truth." + +"But what's the good of the truth if the boys are dead?" said William, +timidly. + +The captain, without heeding this question, continued, as he stirred the +sugar in his glass, "Well, out I sneaked, and as soon as I had got to my +own door I turned round and saw Sharp the runner on the other side of the +way--I felt deuced queer. However, I went in, sat down, and began to +think. I saw that it was up with us, so far as the old uns were +concerned; and it might be worth while to find out if the young uns +really were dead." + +"Then you did not know that after all! I thought so. Oh, Jerry!" + +"Why, look you, man, it was not our interest to take their side if we +could make our bargain out of the other. 'Cause why? You are only one +witness--you are a good fellow, but poor, and with very shaky nerves, +Will. You does not know what them big wigs are when a roan's caged in a +witness-box--they flank one up, and they flank one down, and they bully +and bother, till one's like a horse at Astley's dancing on hot iron. If +your testimony broke down, why it would be all up with the case, and what +then would become of us? Besides," added the captain, with dignified +candour, "I have been lagged, it's no use denying it; I am back before my +time. Inquiries about your respectability would soon bring the bulkies +about me. And you would not have poor Jerry sent back to that d---d low +place on t'other side of the herring-pond, would you?" + +"Ah, Jerry!" said William, kindly placing his hand in his brother's, you +know I helped you to escape; I left all to come over with you." + +"So you did, and you're a good fellow; though as to leaving all, why you +had got rid of all first. And when you told me about the marriage, did +not I say that I saw our way to a snug thing for life? But to return to +my story. There is a danger in going with the youngsters. But since, +Will,--since nothing but hard words is to be got on the other side, we'll +do our duty, and I'll find them out, and do the best I can for us--that +is, if they be yet above ground. And now I'll own to you that I think I +knows that the younger one is alive." + +"You do?" + +"Yes! But as he won't come in for anything unless his brother is dead, +we must have a hunt for the heir. Now I told you that, many years ago, +there was a lad with me, who, putting all things together--seeing how the +Beauforts came after him, and recollecting different things he let out at +the time--I feel pretty sure is your old master's Hopeful. I know that +poor Will Gawtrey gave this lad the address of Old Gregg, a friend of +mine. So after watching Sharp off the sly, I went that very night, or +rather at two in the morning, to Gregg's house, and, after brushing up +his memory, I found that the lad had been to him, and gone over +afterwards to Paris in search of Gawtrey, who was then keeping a +matrimony shop. As I was not rich enough to go off to Paris in a +pleasant, gentlemanlike way, I allowed Gregg to put me up to a noice +quiet little bit of business. Don't shake your head--all safe--a rural +affair! That took some days. You see it has helped to new rig me," and +the captain glanced complacently over a very smart suit of clothes. +"Well, on my return I went to call on you, but you had flown. I half +suspected you might have gone to the mother's relations here; and I +thought, at all events, that I could not do better than go myself and see +what they knew of the matter. From what you say I feel I had better now +let that alone, and go over to Paris at once; leave me alone to find out. +And faith, what with Sharp and the old lord, the sooner I quit England +the better." + +"And you really think you shall get hold of them after all? Oh, never +fear my nerves if I'm once in the right; it's living with you, and seeing +you do wrong, and hearing you talk wickedly, that makes me tremble." + +"Bother!" said the captain, "you need not crow over me. Stand up, Will; +there now, look at us two in the glass! Why, I look ten years younger +than you do, in spite of all my troubles. I dress like a gentleman, as I +am; I have money in my pocket; I put money in yours; without me you'd +starve. Look you, you carried over a little fortune to Australia--you +married--you farmed--you lived honestly, and yet that d---d shilly-shally +disposition of yours, 'ticed into one speculation to-day, and scared out +of another to-morrow, ruined you!" + +"Jerry! Jerry!" cried William, writhing; "don't--don't." + +"But it's all true, and I wants to cure you of preaching. And then, when +you were nearly run out, instead of putting a bold face on it, and +setting your shoulder to the wheel, you gives it up--you sells what you +have--you bolts over, wife and all, to Boston, because some one tells you +you can do better in America--you are out of the way when a search is +made for you--years ago when you could have benefited yourself and your +master's family without any danger to you or me--nobody can find you; +'cause why, you could not bear that your old friends in England, or in +the colony either, should know that you were turned a slave-driver in +Kentucky. You kick up a mutiny among the niggers by moaning over them, +instead of keeping 'em to it--you get kicked out yourself--your wife begs +you to go back to Australia, where her relations will do something for +you--you work your passage out, looking as ragged as a colt from grass-- +wife's uncle don't like ragged nephews-in-law--wife dies broken-hearted +--and you might be breaking stones on the roads with the convicts, if I, +myself a convict, had not taken compassion on you. Don't cry, Will, it +is all for your own good--I hates cant! Whereas I, my own master from +eighteen, never stooped to serve any other--have dressed like a +gentleman--kissed the pretty girls--drove my pheaton--been in all the +papers as 'the celebrated Dashing Jerry'--never wanted a guinea in my +pocket, and even when lagged at last, had a pretty little sum in the +colonial bank to lighten my misfortunes. I escape,--I bring you over-- +and here I am, supporting you, and in all probability, the one on whom +depends the fate of one of the first families in the country. And you +preaches at me, do you? Look you, Will;--in this world, honesty's +nothing without force of character! And so your health!" + +Here the captain emptied the rest of the brandy into his glass, drained +it at a draught, and, while poor William was wiping his eyes with a +ragged blue pocket-handkerchief, rang the bell, and asked what coaches +would pass that way to -----, a seaport town at some distance. On +hearing that there was one at six o'clock, the captain ordered the best +dinner the larder would afford to be got ready as soon as possible; and, +when they were again alone, thus accosted his brother:-- + +"Now you go back to town--here are four shiners for you. Keep quiet-- +don't speak to a soul--don't put your foot in it, that's all I beg, and +I'll find out whatever there is to be found. It is damnably out of my +way embarking at -----, but I had best keep clear of Lunnon. And I tell +you what, if these youngsters have hopped the twig, there's another bird +on the bough that may prove a goldfinch after all--Young Arthur Beaufort: +I hear he is a wild, expensive chap, and one who can't live without lots +of money. Now, it's easy to frighten a man of that sort, and I cha'n't +have the old lord at his elbow." + +"But I tell you, that I only care for my poor master's children." + +"Yes; but if they are dead, and by saying they are alive, one can make +old age comfortable, there's no harm in it--eh?" + +"I don't know," said William, irresolutely. "But certainly it is a hard +thing to be so poor at my time of life; and so honest a man as I've been, +too!" + +Captain Smith went a little too far when he said that "honesty's nothing +without force of character." Still, Honesty has no business to be +helpless and draggle-tailed;--she must be active and brisk, and make use +of her wits; or, though she keep clear or the prison, 'tis no very great +wonder if she fall on the parish. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + "Mitis.--This Macilente, signior, begins to be more sociable on + a sudden." _Every Man out of his Humour_. + + "Punt. Signior, you are sufficiently instructed. + + "Fast. Who, I, sir?"--Ibid. + +After spending the greater part of the day in vain inquiries and a vain +search, Philip and Mr. Morton returned to the house of the latter. + +"And now," said Philip, "all that remains to be done is this: first give +to the police of the town a detailed description of the man; and +secondly, let us put an advertisement both in the county journal and in +some of the London papers, to the effect, that if the person who called +on you will take the trouble to apply again, either personally or by +letter, he may obtain the information sought for. In case he does, I +will trouble you to direct him to--yes--to Monsieur de Vaudemont, +according to this address." + +"Not to you, then?" + +"It is the same thing," replied Philip, drily. "You have confirmed my +suspicions, that the Beauforts know some thing of my brother. What did +you say of some other friend of the family who assisted in the search?" + +"Oh,--a Mr. Spencer! an old acquaintance of your mother's." Here Mr. +Morton smiled, but not being encouraged in a joke, went on, "However, +that's neither here nor there; he certainly never found out your brother. +For I have had several letters from him at different times, asking if any +news had been heard of either of you." + +And, indeed, Spencer had taken peculiar pains to deceive the Mortons, +whose interposition he feared little less than that of the Beauforts. + +"Then it can be of no use to apply to him," said Philip, carelessly, not +having any recollection of the name of Spencer, and therefore attaching +little importance to the mention of him. + +"Certainly, I should think not. Depend on it, Mr. Beaufort must know." + +"True," said Philip. "And I have only to thank you for your kindness, +and return to town." + +"But stay with us this day--do--let me feel that we are friends. I +assure you poor Sidney's fate has been a load on my mind ever since he +left. You shall have the bed he slept in, and over which your mother +bent when she left him and me for the last time." + +These words were said with so much feeling, that the adventurer wrung his +uncle's hand, and said, "Forgive me, I wronged you--I will be your +guest." + +Mrs. Morton, strange to say, evinced no symptoms of ill-humour at the +news of the proffered hospitality. In fact, Miss Margaret had been so +eloquent in Philip's praise during his absence, that she suffered herself +to be favourably impressed. Her daughter, indeed, had obtained a sort of +ascendency over Mrs. M. and the whole house, ever since she had received +so excellent an offer. And, moreover, some people are like dogs--they +snarl at the ragged and fawn on the well-dressed. Mrs. Morton did not +object to a nephew _de facto_, she only objected to a nephew in _forma +pauperis_. The evening, therefore, passed more cheerfully than might +have been anticipated, though Philip found some difficulty in parrying +the many questions put to him on the past. He contented himself with +saying, as briefly as possible, that he had served in a foreign service, +and acquired what sufficed him for an independence; and then, with the +ease which a man picks up in the great world, turned the conversation to +the prospects of the family whose guest he was. Having listened with due +attention to Mrs. Morton's eulogies on Tom, who had been sent for, and +who drank the praises on his own gentility into a very large pair of +blushing ears,--also, to her self-felicitations on Miss Margaret's +marriage,--_item_, on the service rendered to the town by Mr. Roger, who +had repaired the town-hall in his first mayoralty at his own expense,-- +_item_, to a long chronicle of her own genealogy, how she had one cousin +a clergyman, and how her great-grandfather had been knighted,--_item_, to +the domestic virtues of all her children,--_item_, to a confused +explanation of the chastisement inflicted on Sidney, which Philip cut +short in the middle; he asked, with a smile, what had become of the +Plaskwiths. "Oh!" said Mrs. Morton, "my brother Kit has retired from +business. His son-in-law, Mr. Plimmins, has succeeded." + +"Oh, then, Plimmins married one of the young ladies?" + +"Yes, Jane--she bad a sad squint!--Tom, there is nothing to laugh at,-- +we are all as God made us,--'Handsome is as handsome does,'--she has had +three little uns!" + +"Do they squint too?" asked Philip; and Miss Margaret giggled, and Tom +roared, and the other young men roared too. Philip had certainly said +something very witty. + +This time Mrs. Morton administered no reproof; but replied pensively + +"Natur is very mysterious--they all squint!" + +Mr. Morton conducted Philip to his chamber. There it was, fresh, clean, +unaltered--the same white curtains, the same honeysuckle paper as when +Catherine had crept across the threshold. + +"Did Sidney ever tell you that his mother placed a ring round his neck +that night?" asked Mr. Morton. + +"Yes; and the dear boy wept when he said that he had slept too soundly to +know that she was by his side that last, last time. The ring--oh, how +well I remember it! she never put it off till then; and often in the +fields--for we were wild wanderers together in that day--often when his +head lay on my shoulder, I felt that ring still resting on his heart, and +fancied it was a talisman--a blessing. Well, well-good night to you!" +And he shut the door on his uncle, and was alone. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + "The Man of Law, . . . . . . . + And a great suit is like to be between them." + BEN JONSON: _Staple of News_. + +On arriving in London, Philip went first to the lodging he still kept +there, and to which his letters were directed; and, among some +communications from Paris, full of the politics and the hopes of the +Carlists, he found the following note from Lord Lilburne:-- + +"DEAR SIR,--When I met you the other day I told you I had been threatened +with the gout. The enemy has now taken possession of the field. I am +sentenced to regimen and the sofa. But as it is my rule in life to make +afflictions as light as possible, so I have asked a few friends to take +compassion on me, and help me 'to shuffle off this mortal coil' by +dealing me, if they can, four by honours. Any time between nine and +twelve to-night, or to-morrow night, you will find me at home; and if you +are not better engaged, suppose you dine with me to-day--or rather dine +opposite to me--and excuse my Spartan broth. You will meet (besides any +two or three friends whom an impromptu invitation may find disengaged) my +sister, with Beaufort and their daughter: they only arrived in town this +morning, and are kind enough 'to nurse me,' as they call it,--that is to +say, their cook is taken ill! + "Yours, + "LILBURNE +"Park Lane, Sept. --" + + +"The Beauforts. Fate favors me--I will go. The date is for to-day." + +He sent off a hasty line to accept the invitation, and finding he had a +few hours yet to spare, he resolved to employ them in consultation with +some lawyer as to the chances of ultimately regaining his inheritance-- +a hope which, however wild, he had, since his return to his native shore, +and especially since he had heard of the strange visit made to Roger +Morton, permitted himself to indulge. With this idea he sallied out, +meaning to consult Liancourt, who, having a large acquaintance among the +English, seemed the best person to advise him as to the choice of a +lawyer at once active and honest,--when he suddenly chanced upon that +gentleman himself. + +"This is lucky, my dear Liancourt. I was just going to your lodgings." + +"And I was coming to yours to know if you dine with Lord Lilburne. He +told me he had asked you. I have just left him. And, by the sofa of +Mephistopheles, there was the prettiest Margaret you ever beheld." + +"Indeed!--Who?" + +"He called her his niece; but I should doubt if he had any relation on +this side the Styx so human as a niece." + +"You seem to have no great predilection for our host." + +"My dear Vaudemont, between our blunt, soldierly natures, and those wily, +icy, sneering intellects, there is the antipathy of the dog to the cat." + +"Perhaps so on our side, not on his--or why does he invite us?" + +"London is empty; there is no one else to ask. We are new faces, new +minds to him. We amuse him more than the hackneyed comrades he has worn +out. Besides, he plays--and you, too. Fie on you!" + +"Liancourt, I had two objects in knowing that man, and I pay to the toll +for the bridge. When I cease to want the passage, I shall cease to pay +the toll." + +"But the bridge may be a draw-bridge, and the moat is devilish deep +below. Without metaphor, that man may ruin you before you know where you +are." + +"Bah! I have my eyes open. I know how much to spend on the rogue whose +service I hire as a lackey's; and I know also where to stop. Liancourt," +he added, after a short pause, and in a tone deep with suppressed +passion, "when I first saw that man, I thought of appealing to his heart +for one who has a claim on it. That was a vain hope. And then there +came upon me a sterner and deadlier thought--the scheme of the Avenger! +This Lilburne--this rogue whom the world sets up to worship--ruined, body +and soul ruined--one whose name the world gibbets with scorn! Well, I +thought to avenge that man. In his own house--amidst you all--I thought +to detect the sharper, and brand the cheat!" + +"You startle me!--It has been whispered, indeed, that Lord Lilburne is +dangerous,--but skill is dangerous. To cheat!--an Englishman!--a +nobleman!--impossible!" + +"Whether he do or not," returned Vaudemont, in a calmer tone, "I have +foregone the vengeance, because he is--" + +"Is what?" + +"No matter," said Vaudemont aloud, but he added to himself,--"Because he +is the grandfather of Fanny!" + +"You are very enigmatical to-day." + +"Patience, Liancourt; I may solve all the riddles that make up my life, +yet. Bear with me a little longer. And now can you help me to a +lawyer?--a man experienced, indeed, and of repute, but young, active, not +overladen with business;--I want his zeal and his time, for a hazard that +your monopolists of clients may not deem worth their devotion." + +"I can recommend you, then, the very man you require. I had a suit some +years ago at Paris, for which English witnesses were necessary. My +_avocat_ employed a solicitor here whose activity in collecting my +evidence gained my cause. I will answer for his diligence and his +honesty." + +"His address?" + +"Mr. Barlow--somewhere by the Strand--let me see--Essex-yes, Essex +Street." + +"Then good-bye to you for the present.--You dine at Lord Lilburne's too?" + +"Yes. Adieu till then." + +Vaudemont was not long before he arrived at Mr. Barlow's; a brass-plate +announced to him the house. He was shown at once into a parlour, where +he saw a man whom lawyers would call young, and spinsters middle-aged-- +viz., about two-and-forty; with a bold, resolute, intelligent +countenance, and that steady, calm, sagacious eye, which inspires +at once confidence and esteem. + +Vaudemont scanned him with the look of one who has been accustomed to +judge mankind--as a scholar does books--with rapidity because with +practice. He had at first resolved to submit to him the heads of his +case without mentioning names, and, in fact, he so commenced his +narrative; but by degrees, as he perceived how much his own earnestness +arrested and engrossed the interest of his listener, he warmed into +fuller confidence, and ended by a full disclosure, and a caution as to +the profoundest secrecy in case, if there were no hope to recover his +rightful name, he might yet wish to retain, unannoyed by curiosity or +suspicion, that by which he was not discreditably known. + +"Sir," said Mr. Barlow, after assuring him of the most scrupulous +discretion,--"sir, I have some recollection of the trial instituted by +your mother, Mrs. Beaufort"--and the slight emphasis he laid on that name +was the most grateful compliment be could have paid to the truth of +Philip's recital. "My impression is, that it was managed in a very +slovenly manner by her lawyer; and some of his oversights we may repair +in a suit instituted by yourself. But it would be absurd to conceal from +you the great difficulties that beset us--your mother's suit, designed to +establish her own rights, was far easier than that which you must +commence--viz., an action for ejectment against a man who has been some +years in undisturbed possession. Of course, until the missing witness is +found out, it would be madness to commence litigation. And the question, +then, will be, how far that witness will suffice? It is true, that one +witness of a marriage, if the others are dead, is held sufficient by law. +But I need not add, that that witness must be thoroughly credible. In +suits for real property, very little documentary or secondary evidence is +admitted. I doubt even whether the certificate of the marriage on which +--in the loss or destruction of the register--you lay so much stress, +would be available in itself. But if an examined copy, it becomes of the +last importance, for it will then inform us of the name of the person who +extracted and examined it. Heaven grant it may not have been the +clergyman himself who performed the ceremony, and who, you say, is dead; +if some one else, we should then have a second, no doubt credible and +most valuable witness. The document would thus become available as +proof, and, I think, that we should not fail to establish our case." + +"But this certificate, how is it ever to be found? I told you we had +searched everywhere in vain." + +"True; but you say that your mother always declared that the late Mr. +Beaufort had so solemnly assured her, even just prior to his decease, +that it was in existence, that I have no doubt as to the fact. It may be +possible, but it is a terrible insinuation to make, that if Mr. Robert +Beaufort, in examining the papers of the deceased, chanced upon a +document so important to him, he abstracted or destroyed it. If this +should not have been the case (and Mr. Robert Beaufort's moral character +is unspotted--and we have no right to suppose it), the probability is, +either that it was intrusted to some third person, or placed in some +hidden drawer or deposit, the secret of which your father never +disclosed. Who has purchased the house you lived in?" + +"Fernside? Lord Lilburne. Mrs. Robert Beaufort's brother." + +"Humph--probably, then, he took the furniture and all. Sir, this is a +matter that requires some time for close consideration. With your leave, +I will not only insert in the London papers an advertisement to the +effect that you suggested to Mr. Roger Morton (in case you should have +made a right conjecture as to the object of the man who applied to him), +but I will also advertise for the witness himself. William Smith, you +say, his name is. Did the lawyer employed by Mrs. Beaufort send to +inquire for him in the colony?" + +"No; I fear there could not have been time for that. My mother was so +anxious and eager, and so convinced of the justice of her case--" + +"That's a pity; her lawyer must have been a sad driveller." + +"Besides, now I remember, inquiry was made of his relations in England. +His father, a farmer, was then alive; the answer was that he had +certainly left Australia. His last letter, written two years before that +date, containing a request for money, which the father, himself made a +bankrupt by reverses, could not give, had stated that he was about to +seek his fortune elsewhere--since then they had heard nothing of him." + +"Ahem! Well, you will perhaps let me know where any relations of his are +yet to be found, and I will look up the former suit, and go into the +whole case without delay. In the meantime, you do right, sir--if you +will allow me to say it--not to disclose either your own identity or a +hint of your intentions. It is no use putting suspicion on its guard. +And my search for this certificate must be managed with the greatest +address. But, by the way--speaking of identity--there can be no +difficulty, I hope, in proving yours." + +Philip was startled. "Why, I am greatly altered." + +"But probably your beard and moustache may contribute to that change; and +doubtless, in the village where you lived, there would be many with whom +you were in sufficient intercourse, and on whose recollection, by +recalling little anecdotes and circumstances with which no one but +yourself could be acquainted, your features would force themselves along +with the moral conviction that the man who spoke to them could be no +other but Philip Morton--or rather Beaufort." + +"You are right; there must be many such. There was not a cottage in the +place where I and my dogs were not familiar and half domesticated." + +"All's right, so far, then. But I repeat, we must not be too sanguine. +Law is not justice--" + +"But God is," said Philip; and he left the room. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + "_Volpone_. A little in a mist, but not dejected; + Never--but still myself." + BEN JONSON: _Volpone_. + + "_Peregrine_. Am I enough disguised? + _Mer_. Ay. I warrant you. + _Per_. Save you, fair lady."--Ibid. + +It is an ill wind that blows nobody good. The ill wind that had blown +gout to Lord Lilburne had blown Lord Lilburne away from the injury he had +meditated against what he called "the object of his attachment." How +completely and entirely, indeed, the state of Lord Lilburne's feelings +depended on the state of his health, may be seen in the answer he gave to +his valet, when, the morning after the first attack of the gout, that +worthy person, by way of cheering his master, proposed to ascertain +something as to the movements of one with whom Lord Lilburne professed to +be so violently in love,--"Confound you, Dykeman!" exclaimed the +invalid,--"why do you trouble me about women when I'm in this condition? +I don't care if they were all at the bottom of the sea! Reach me the +colchicum! I must keep my mind calm." + +Whenever tolerably well, Lord Lilburne was careless of his health; the +moment he was ill, Lord Lilburne paid himself the greatest possible +attention. Though a man of firm nerves, in youth of remarkable daring, +and still, though no longer rash, of sufficient personal courage, he was +by no means fond of the thought of death--that is, of his _own_ death. +Not that he was tormented by any religious apprehensions of the Dread +Unknown, but simply because the only life of which he had any experience +seemed to him a peculiarly pleasant thing. He had a sort of instinctive +persuasion that John Lord Lilburne would not be better off anywhere else. +Always disliking solitude, he disliked it more than ever when he was ill, +and he therefore welcomed the visit of his sister and the gentle hand of +his pretty niece. As for Beaufort, he bored the sufferer; and when that +gentleman, on his arrival, shutting out his wife and daughter, whispered +to Lilburne, "Any more news of that impostor?" Lilburne answered +peevishly, "I never talk about business when I have the gout! I have set +Sharp to keep a lookout for him, but he has learned nothing as yet. And +now go to your club. You are a worthy creature, but too solemn for my +spirits just at this moment. I have a few people coming to dine with me, +your wife will do the honors, and--_you_ can come in the evening." +Though Mr. Robert Beaufort's sense of importance swelled and chafed at +this very unceremonious _conge_, he forced a smile, and said:-- + +"Well, it is no wonder you are a little fretful with the gout. I have +plenty to do in town, and Mrs. Beaufort and Camilla can come back without +waiting for me." + +"Why, as your cook is ill, and they can't dine at a club, you may as well +leave them here till I am a little better; not that I care, for I can +hire a better nurse than either of them." + +"My dear Lilburne, don't talk of hiring nurses; certainly, I am too happy +if they can be of comfort to you." + +"No! on second thoughts, you may take back your wife, she's always +talking of her own complaints, and leave me Camilla: you can't want her +for a few days." + +"Just as you like. And you really think I have managed as well as I +could about this young man,--eh?" + +"Yes--yes! And so you go to Beaufort Court in a few days?" + +"I propose doing so. I wish you were well enough to come." + +"Um! Chambers says that it would be a very good air for me--better than +Fernside; and as to my castle in the north, I would as soon go to +Siberia. Well, if I get better, I will pay you a visit, only you always +have such a stupid set of respectable people about you. I shock them, +and they oppress me." + +"Why, as I hope soon to see Arthur, I shall make it as agreeable to him +as I can, and I shall be very much obliged to you if you would invite a +few of your own friends." + +"Well, you are a good fellow, Beaufort, and I will take you at your word; +and, since one good turn deserves another, I have now no scruples in +telling you that I feel quite sure that you will have no further +annoyance from this troublesome witness-monger." + +"In that case," said Beaufort, "I may pick up a better match for Camilla! +Good-bye, my dear Lilburne." + +"Form and Ceremony of the world!" snarled the peer, as the door closed +on his brother-in-law, "ye make little men very moral, and not a bit the +better for being so." + +It so happened that Vaudemont arrived before any of the other guests that +day, and during the half hour which Dr. Chambers assigned to his +illustrious patient, so that, when he entered, there were only Mrs. +Beaufort and Camilla in the drawing-room. + +Vaudemont drew back involuntarily as he recognized in the faded +countenance of the elder lady, features associated with one of the dark +passages in his earlier life; but Mrs. Beaufort's gracious smile, and +urbane, though languid welcome, sufficed to assure him that the +recognition was not mutual. He advanced, and again stopped short, as his +eye fell upon that fair and still childlike form, which had once knelt by +his side and pleaded, with the orphan, for his brother. While he spoke +to her, many recollections, some dark and stern--but those, at least, +connected with Camilla, soft and gentle-thrilled through his heart. +Occupied as her own thoughts and feelings necessarily were with Sidney, +there was something in Vaudemont's appearance--his manner, his voice-- +which forced upon Camilla a strange and undefined interest; and even Mrs. +Beaufort was roused from her customary apathy, as she glanced at that +dark and commanding face with something between admiration and fear. +Vaudemont had scarcely, however, spoken ten words, when some other guests +were announced, and Lord Lilburne was wheeled in upon his sofa shortly +afterwards. Vaudemont continued, however, seated next to Camilla, and +the embarrassment he had at first felt disappeared. He possessed, when +he pleased, that kind of eloquence which belongs to men who have seen +much and felt deeply, and whose talk has not been frittered down to the +commonplace jargon of the world. His very phraseology was distinct and +peculiar, and he had that rarest of all charms in polished life, +originality both of thought and of manner. Camilla blushed, when she +found at dinner that he placed himself by her side. That evening De +Vaudemont excused himself from playing, but the table was easily made +without him, and still he continued to converse with the daughter of the +man whom he held as his worst foe. By degrees, he turned the +conversation into a channel that might lead him to the knowledge he +sought. + +"It was my fate," said he, "once to become acquainted with an intimate +friend of the late Mr. Beaufort. Will you pardon me if I venture to +fulfil a promise I made to him, and ask you to inform me what has become +of a--a--that is, of Sidney Morton?" + +"Sidney Morton! I don't even remember the name. Oh, yes! I have heard +it," added Camilla, innocently, and with a candour that showed how little +she knew of the secrets of the family; "he was one of two poor boys in +whom my brother felt a deep interest--some relations to my uncle. Yes-- +yes! I remember now. I never knew Sidney, but I once did see his +brother." + +"Indeed! and you remember--" + +"Yes! I was very young then. I scarcely recollect what passed, it was +all so confused and strange; but, I know that I made papa very angry, and +I was told never to mention the name of Morton again. I believe they +behaved very ill to papa." + +"And you never learned--never!--the fate of either--of Sidney?" + +"Never!" + +"But your father must know?" + +"I think not; but tell me,"--said Camilla, with girlish and unaffected +innocence, "I have always felt anxious to know,--what and who were those +poor boys?" + +What and who were they? So deep, then, was the stain upon their name, +that the modest mother and the decorous father had never even said to +that young girl, "They are your cousins--the children of the man in whose +gold we revel!" + +Philip bit his lip, and the spell of Camilla's presence seemed vanished. +He muttered some inaudible answer, turned away to the card-table, and +Liancourt took the chair he had left vacant. + +"And how does Miss Beaufort like my friend Vaudemont? I assure you that +I have seldom seen him so alive to the fascination of female beauty!" + +"Oh!" said Camilla, with her silver laugh, "your nation spoils us for our +own countrymen. You forget how little we are accustomed to flattery." + +"Flattery! what truth could flatter on the lips of an exile? But you +don't answer my question--what think you of Vaudemont? Few are more +admired. He is handsome!" + +"Is he?" said Camilla, and she glanced at Vaudemont, as he stood at a +little distance, thoughtful and abstracted. Every girl forms to herself +some untold dream of that which she considers fairest. And Vaudemont had +not the delicate and faultless beauty of Sidney. There was nothing that +corresponded to her ideal in his marked features and lordly shape! But +she owned, reluctantly to herself, that she had seldom seen, among the +trim gallants of everyday life, a form so striking and impressive. The +air, indeed, was professional--the most careless glance could detect the +soldier. But it seemed the soldier of an elder age or a wilder clime. +He recalled to her those heads which she had seen in the Beaufort Gallery +and other Collections yet more celebrated--portraits by Titian of those +warrior statesman who lived in the old Republics of Italy in a perpetual +struggle with their kind--images of dark, resolute, earnest men. Even +whatever was intellectual in his countenance spoke, as in those +portraits, of a mind sharpened rather in active than in studious life;-- +intellectual, not from the pale hues, the worn exhaustion, and the sunken +cheek of the bookman and dreamer, but from its collected and stern +repose, the calm depth that lay beneath the fire of the eyes, and the +strong will that spoke in the close full lips, and the high but not +cloudless forehead. + +And, as she gazed, Vaudemont turned round--her eyes fell beneath his, and +she felt angry with herself that she blushed. Vaudemont saw the downcast +eye, he saw the blush, and the attraction of Camilla's presence was +restored. He would have approached her, but at that moment Mr. Beaufort +himself entered, and his thoughts went again into a darker channel. + +"Yes," said Liancourt, "you must allow Vaudemont looks what he is--a +noble fellow and a gallant soldier. Did you never hear of his battle +with the tigress? It made a noise in India. I must tell it you as I +have heard it." + +And while Laincourt was narrating the adventure, whatever it was, to +which he referred, the card-table was broken up, and Lord Lilburne, still +reclining on his sofa, lazily introduced his brother-in-law to such of +the guests as were strangers to him--Vaudemont among the rest. Mr. +Beaufort had never seen Philip Morton more than three times; once at +Fernside, and the other times by an imperfect light, and when his +features were convulsed by passion, and his form disfigured by his dress. +Certainly, therefore, had Robert Beaufort even possessed that faculty of +memory which is supposed to belong peculiarly to kings and princes, and +which recalls every face once seen, it might have tasked the gift to the +utmost to have detected, in the bronzed and decorated foreigner to whom +he was now presented, the features of the wild and long-lost boy. But +still some dim and uneasy presentiment, or some struggling and painful +effort of recollection, was in his mind, as he spoke to Vaudemont, and +listened to the cold calm tone of his reply. + +"Who do you say that Frenchman is?" he whispered to his brother-in-law, +as Vaudemont turned away. + +"Oh! a cleverish sort of adventurer--a gentleman; he plays.--He has seen +a good deal of the world--he rather amuses me--different from other +people. I think of asking him to join our circle at Beaufort Court." + +Mr. Beaufort coughed huskily, but not seeing any reasonable objection to +the proposal, and afraid of rousing the sleeping hyaena of Lord +Lilburne's sarcasm, he merely said:-- + +"Any one you like to invite:" and looking round for some one on whom to +vent his displeasure, perceived Camilla still listening to Liancourt. He +stalked up to her, and as Liancourt, seeing her rise, rose also and moved +away, he said peevishly, "You will never learn to conduct yourself +properly; you are to be left here to nurse and comfort your uncle, and +not to listen to the gibberish of every French adventurer. Well, Heaven +be praised, I have a son--girls are a great plague!" + +"So they are, Mr. Beaufort," sighed his wife, who had just joined him, +and who was jealous of the preference Lilburne had given to her daughter. + +"And so selfish," added Mrs. Beaufort; "they only care for their own +amusements, and never mind how uncomfortable their parents are for want +of them." + +"Oh! dear mamma, don't say so--let me go home with you--I'll speak to my +uncle!" + +"Nonsense, child! Come along, Mr. Beaufort;" and the affectionate +parents went out arm in arm. They did not perceive that Vaudemont had +been standing close behind them; but Camilla, now looking up with tears +in her eyes, again caught his gaze: he had heard all. + +"And they ill-treat her," he muttered: "that divides her from them!--she +will be left here--I shall see her again." As he turned to depart, +Lilburne beckoned to him. + +"You do not mean to desert our table?" + +"No: but I am not very well to-night--to-morrow, if you will allow me." + +"Ay, to-morrow; and if you can spare an hour in the morning it will be a +charity. You see," he added in a whisper, "I have a nurse, though I have +no children. D'ye think that's love? Bah! sir--a legacy! Good night." + +"No--no--no!" said Vaudemont to himself, as he walked through the moonlit +streets. "No! though my heart burns,--poor murdered felon!--to avenge +thy wrongs and thy crimes, revenge cannot come from me--he is Fanny's +grandfather and--Camilla's uncle!" + +And Camilla, when that uncle had dismissed her for the night, sat down +thoughtfully in her own room. The dark eyes of Vaudemont seemed still to +shine on her; his voice yet rung in her ear; the wild tales of daring and +danger with which Liancourt had associated his name yet haunted her +bewildered fancy--she started, frightened at her own thoughts. She took +from her bosom some lines that Sidney had addressed to her, and, as she +read and re-read, her spirit became calmed to its wonted and faithful +melancholy. Vaudemont was forgotten, and the name of Sidney yet murmured +on her lips, when sleep came to renew the image of the absent one, and +paint in dreams the fairy land of a happy Future! + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + "Ring on, ye bells--most pleasant is your chime!" + WILSON. _Isle of Palms_. + + "O fairy child! What can I wish for thee?"--Ibid. + +Vaudemont remained six days in London without going to H----, and on each +of those days he paid a visit to Lord Lilburne. On the seventh day, the +invalid being much better, though still unable to leave his room, Camilla +returned to Berkeley Square. On the same day, Vaudemont went once more +to see Simon and poor Fanny. + +As he approached the door, he heard from the window, partially opened, +for the day was clear and fine, Fanny's sweet voice. She was chaunting +one of the simple songs she had promised to learn by heart; and +Vaudemont, though but a poor judge of the art, was struck and affected by +the music of the voice and the earnest depth of the feeling. He paused +opposite the window and called her by her name. Fanny looked forth +joyously, and ran, as usual, to open the door to him. + +"Oh! you have been so long away; but I already know many of the songs: +they say so much that I always wanted to say!" + +Vaudemont smiled, but languidly. + +"How strange it is," said Fanny, musingly, "that there should be so much +in a piece of paper! for, after all," pointing to the open page of her +book, "this is but a piece of paper--only there is life in it!" + +"Ay," said Vaudemont, gloomily, and far from seizing the subtle delicacy +of Fanny's thought--her mind dwelling upon Poetry, and his upon Law,-- +"ay, and do you know that upon a mere scrap of paper, if I could but find +it, may depend my whole fortune, my whole happiness, all that I care for +in life?" + +"Upon a scrap of paper? Oh! how I wish I could find it! Ah! you look +as if you thought I should never be wise enough for that!" + +Vaudemont, not listening to her, uttered a deep sigh. Fanny approached +him timidly. + +"Do not sigh, brother,--I can't bear to hear you sigh. You are changed. +Have you, too, not been happy?" + +"Happy, Fanny! yes, lately very happy--too happy!" + +"Happy, have you? and I--" the girl stopped short--her tone had been +that of sadness and reproach, and she stopped--why, she knew not, but she +felt her heart sink within her. Fanny suffered him to pass her, and he +went straight to his room. Her eyes followed him wistfully: it was not +his habit to leave her thus abruptly. The family meal of the day was +over; and it was an hour before Vaudemont descended to the parlour. +Fanny had put aside the songs; she had no heart to recommence those +gentle studies that had been so sweet,--they had drawn no pleasure, no +praise from him. She was seated idly and listlessly beside the silent +old man, who every day grew more and more silent still. She turned her +head as Vaudemont entered, and her pretty lip pouted as that of a +neglected child. But he did not heed it, and the pout vanished, and +tears rushed to her eyes. + +Vaudemont was changed. His countenance was thoughtful and overcast. His +manner abstracted. He addressed a few words to Simon, and then, seating +himself by the window, leant his cheek on his hand, and was soon lost in +reverie. Fanny, finding that he did not speak, and after stealing many a +long and earnest glance at his motionless attitude and gloomy brow, rose +gently, and gliding to him with her light step, said, in a trembling +voice,-- + +"Are you in pain, brother?" + +"No, pretty one!" + +"Then why won't you speak to Fanny? Will you not walk with her? Perhaps +my grandfather will come too." + +"Not this evening. I shall go out; but it will be alone." + +"Where? Has not Fanny been good? I have not been out since you left. +us. And the grave--brother!--I sent Sarah with the flowers--but--" + +Vaudemont rose abruptly. The mention of the grave brought back his +thoughts from the dreaming channel into which they had flowed. Fanny, +whose very childishness had once so soothed him, now disturbed; he felt +the want of that complete solitude which makes the atmosphere of growing +passion: he muttered some scarcely audible excuse, and quitted the house. +Fanny saw him no more that evening. He did not return till midnight. +But Fanny did not sleep till she heard his step on the stairs, and his +chamber door close: and when she did sleep, her dreams were disturbed and +painful. The next morning, when they met at breakfast (for Vaudemont did +not return to London), her eyes were red and heavy, and her cheek pale. +And, still buried in meditation, Vaudemont's eye, usually so kind and +watchful, did not detect those signs of a grief that Fanny could not have +explained. After breakfast, however, he asked her to walk out; and her +face brightened as she hastened to put on her bonnet, and take her little +basket full of fresh flowers which she had already sent Sarah forth to +purchase. + +"Fanny," said Vaudemont, as leaving the house, he saw the basket on her +arm, "to-day you may place some of those flowers on another tombstone!-- +Poor child, what natural goodness there is in that heart!--what pity +that--" + +He paused. Fanny looked delightedly in his face. "You were praising me +--you! And what is a pity, brother?" + +While she spoke, the sound of the joy-bells was heard near at hand. + +"Hark!" said Vaudemont, forgetting her question--and almost gaily-- +"Hark!--I accept the omen. It is a marriage peal!" + +He quickened his steps, and they reached the churchyard. + +There was a crowd already assembled, and Vaudemont and Fanny paused; and, +leaning over the little gate, looked on. + +"Why are these people here, and why does the bell ring so merrily?" + +"There is to be a wedding, Fanny." + +"I have heard of a wedding very often," said Fanny, with a pretty look of +puzzlement and doubt, "but I don't know exactly what it means. Will you +tell me?--and the bells, too!" + +"Yes, Fanny, those bells toll but three times for man! The first time, +when he comes into the world; the last time, when he leaves it; the time +between when he takes to his side a partner in all the sorrows--in all +the joys that yet remain to him; and who, even when the last bell +announces his death to this earth, may yet, for ever and ever, be his +partner in that world to come--that heaven, where they who are as +innocent as you, Fanny, may hope to live and to love each other in a land +in which there are no graves!" + +"And this bell?" + +"Tolls for that partnership--for the wedding!" + +"I think I understand you;--and they who are to be wed are happy?" + +"Happy, Fanny, if they love, and their love continue. Oh! conceive the +happiness to know some one person dearer to you than your own self--some +one breast into which you can pour every thought, every grief, every joy! +One person, who, if all the rest of the world were to calumniate or +forsake you, would never wrong you by a harsh thought or an unjust word, +--who would cling to you the closer in sickness, in poverty, in care,-- +who would sacrifice all things to you, and for whom you would sacrifice +all--from whom, except by death, night or day, you must be never divided +--whose smile is ever at your hearth--who has no tears while you are well +and happy, and your love the same. Fanny, such is marriage, if they who +marry have hearts and souls to feel that there is no bond on earth so +tender and so sublime. There is an opposite picture;--I will not draw +that! And as it is, Fanny, you cannot understand me!" + +He turned away:--and Fanny's tears were falling like rain upon the grass +below;--he did not see them! He entered the churchyard; for the bell now +ceased. The ceremony was to begin. He followed the bridal party into +the church, and Fanny, lowering her veil, crept after him, awed and +trembling. + +They stood, unobserved, at a little distance, and heard the service. + +The betrothed were of the middle class of life, young, both comely; and +their behaviour was such as suited the reverence and sanctity of the +rite. Vaudemont stood looking on intently, with his arms folded on his +breast. Fanny leant behind him, and apart from all, against one of the +pews. And still in her hand, while the priest was solemnising Marriage, +she held the flowers intended for the Grave. Even to that MORNING-- +hushed, calm, earliest, with her mysterious and unconjectured heart--her +shape brought a thought of NIGHT! + +When the ceremony was over--when the bride fell on her mother's breast +and wept; and then, when turning thence, her eyes met the bridegroom's, +and the tears were all smiled away--when, in that one rapid interchange +of looks, spoke all that holy love can speak to love, and with timid +frankness she placed her hand in his to whom she had just vowed her +life,--a thrill went through the hearts of those present. Vaudemont +sighed heavily. He heard his sigh echoed; but by one that had in its +sound no breath of pain; he turned; Fanny had raised her veil; her eyes +met his, moistened, but bright, soft, and her cheeks were rosy-red. +Vaudemont recoiled before that gaze, and turned from the church. The +persons interested retired to the vestry to sign their names in the +registry; the crowd dispersed, and Vaudemont and Fanny stood alone in the +burial-ground. + +"Look, Fanny," said the former, pointing to a tomb that stood far from +his mother's (for those ashes were too hallowed for such a +neighbourhood). "Look yonder; it is a new tomb. Fanny, let us approach +it. Can you read what is there inscribed?" + +The inscription was simply this: + + TO W-- G-- + MAN SEES THE DEED + GOD THE CIRCUMSTANCE. + JUDGE NOT, + THAT YE BE NOT JUDGED. + +"Fanny, this tomb fulfils your pious wish: it is to the memory of him +whom you called your father. Whatever was his life here--whatever +sentence it hath received, Heaven, at least, will not condemn your piety, +if you honour one who was good to you, and place flowers, however idle, +even over that grave." + +"It is his--my father's--and you have thought of this for me!" said +Fanny, taking his hand, and sobbing. "And I have been thinking that you +were not so kind to me as you were!" + +"Have I not been so kind to you? Nay, forgive me, I am not happy." + +"Not?--you said yesterday you had been too happy." + +"To remember happiness is not to be happy, Fanny." + +"That's true--and--" + +Fanny stopped; and, as she bent over the tomb, musing, Vaudemont, willing +to leave her undisturbed, and feeling bitterly how little his conscience +could vindicate, though it might find palliation for, the dark man who +slept not there--retired a few paces. + +At this time the new-married pair, with their witnesses, the clergyman, +&c., came from the vestry, and crossed the path. Fanny, as she turned +from the tomb, saw them, and stood still, looking earnestly at the bride. + +"What a lovely face!" said the mother. "Is it--yes it is--the poor +idiot girl." + +"Ah!" said the bridegroom, tenderly, "and she, Mary, beautiful as she is, +she can never make another as happy as you have made me." + +Vaudemont heard, and his heart felt sad. "Poor Fanny!--And yet, but for +that affliction--I might have loved her, ere I met the fatal face of the +daughter of my foe!" And with a deep compassion, an inexpressible and +holy fondness, he moved to Fanny. + +"Come, my child; now let us go home." + +"Stay," said Fanny--"you forget." And she went to strew the flowers +still left over Catherine's grave. + +"Will my mother," thought Vaudemont, "forgive me, if I have other +thoughts than hate and vengeance for that house which builds its +greatness over her slandered name?" He groaned:--and that grave had lost +its melancholy charm. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + "Of all men, I say, + That dare, for 'tis a desperate adventure, + Wear on their free necks the yoke of women, + Give me a soldier."--_Knight of Malta_. + + "So lightly doth this little boat + Upon the scarce-touch'd billows float; + So careless doth she seem to be, + Thus left by herself on the homeless sea, + To lie there with her cheerful sail, + Till Heaven shall send some gracious gale." + WILSON: _Isle of Palms_. + +Vaudemont returned that evening to London, and found at his lodgings a +note from Lord Lilburne, stating that as his gout was now somewhat +mitigated, his physician had recommended him to try change of air--that +Beaufort Court was in one of the western counties, in a genial climate-- +that he was therefore going thither the next day for a short time--that +he had asked some of Monsieur de Vaudemont's countrymen, and a few other +friends, to enliven the circle of a dull country-house--that Mr. and Mrs. +Beaufort would be delighted to see Monsieur de Vaudemont also--and that +his compliance with their invitation would be a charity to Monsieur de +Vaudemont's faithful and obliged, LILBURNE. + +The first sensation of Vaudemont on reading this effusion was delight. +"I shall see _her_," he cried; "I shall be under the same roof!" But the +glow faded at once from his cheek;--the roof!--what roof? Be the guest +where he held himself the lord!--be the guest of Robert Beaufort!--Was +that all? Did he not meditate the deadliest war which civilised life +admits of--the _War of Law_--war for name, property, that very hearth, +with all its household gods, against this man--could he receive his +hospitality? "And what then!" he exclaimed, as he paced to and fro the +room,--"because her father wronged me, and because I would claim mine +own--must I therefore exclude from my thoughts, from my sight, an image +so fair and gentle;--the one who knelt by my side, an infant, to that +hard man?--Is hate so noble a passion that it is not to admit one glimpse +of Love?--_Love_! what word is that? Let me beware in time!" He paused +in fierce self-contest, and, throwing open the window, gasped for air. +The street in which he lodged was situated in the neighbourhood of St. +James's; and, at that very moment, as if to defeat all opposition, and to +close the struggle, Mrs. Beaufort's barouche drove by, Camilla at her +side. Mrs. Beaufort, glancing up; languidly bowed; and Camilla herself +perceived him, and he saw her change colour as she inclined her head. He +gazed after them almost breathless, till the carriage disappeared; and +then reclosing the window, he sat down to collect his thoughts, and again +to reason with himself. But still, as he reasoned, he saw ever before +him that blush and that smile. At last he sprang up, and a noble and +bright expression elevated the character of his face,--"Yes, if I enter +that house, if I eat that man's bread, and drink of his cup, I must +forego, not justice--not what is due to my mother's name--but whatever +belongs to hate and vengeance. If I enter that house--and if Providence +permit me the means whereby to regain my rights, why she--the innocent +one--she may be the means of saving her father from ruin, and stand like +an angel by that boundary where justice runs into revenge!--Besides, is +it not my duty to discover Sidney? Here is the only clue I shall +obtain." With these thoughts he hesitated no more--he decided he would +not reject this hospitality, since it might be in his power to pay it +back ten thousandfold. "And who knows," he murmured again, "if Heaven, +in throwing this sweet being in my way, might not have designed to subdue +and chasten in me the angry passions I have so long fed on? I have seen +her,--can I now hate her father?" + +He sent off his note accepting the invitation. When he had done so, was +he satisfied? He had taken as noble and as large a view of the duties +thereby imposed on him as he well could take: but something whispered at +his heart, "There is weakness in thy generosity--Darest thou love the +daughter of Robert Beaufort?" And his heart had no answer to this voice. + +The rapidity with which love is ripened depends less upon the actual +number of years that have passed over the soil in which the seed is cast, +than upon the freshness of the soil itself. A young man who lives the +ordinary life of the world, and who fritters away, rather than exhausts, +his feelings upon a variety of quick succeeding subjects--the Cynthias of +the minute--is not apt to form a real passion at the first sight. Youth +is inflammable only when the heart is young! + +There are certain times of life when, in either sex, the affections are +prepared, as it were, to be impressed with the first fair face that +attracts the fancy and delights the eye. Such times are when the heart +has been long solitary, and when some interval of idleness and rest +succeeds to periods of harsher and more turbulent excitement. It was +precisely such a period in the life of Vaudemont. Although his ambition +had been for many years his dream, and his sword his mistress, yet +naturally affectionate, and susceptible of strong emotion, he had often +repined at his lonely lot. By degrees the boy's fantasy and reverence +which had wound themselves round the image of Eugenie subsided into that +gentle and tender melancholy which, perhaps by weakening the strength of +the sterner thoughts, leaves us inclined rather to receive, than to +resist, a new attachment;--and on the verge of the sweet Memory trembles +the sweet Hope. The suspension of his profession, his schemes, his +struggles, his career, left his passions unemployed. Vaudemont was thus +unconsciously prepared to love. As we have seen, his first and earliest +feelings directed themselves to Fanny. But he had so immediately +detected the clanger, and so immediately recoiled from nursing those +thoughts and fancies, without which love dies for want of food, for a +person to whom he ascribed the affliction of an imbecility which would +give to such a sentiment all the attributes either of the weakest +rashness or of dishonour approaching to sacrilege--that the wings of the +deity were scared away the instant their very shadow fell upon his mind. +And thus, when Camilla rose upon him his heart was free to receive her +image. Her graces, her accomplishments, a certain nameless charm that +invested her, pleased him even more than her beauty; the recollections +connected with that first time in which he had ever beheld her, were also +grateful and endearing; the harshness with which her parents spoke to her +moved his compassion, and addressed itself to a temper peculiarly alive +to the generosity that leans towards the weak and the wronged; the +engaging mixture of mildness and gaiety with which she tended her peevish +and sneering uncle, convinced him of her better and more enduring +qualities of disposition and womanly heart. And even--so strange and +contradictory are our feelings--the very remembrance that she was +connected with a family so hateful to him made her own image the more +bright from the darkness that surrounded it. For was it not with the +daughter of his foe that the lover of Verona fell in love at first sight? +And is not that a common type of us all--as if Passion delighted in +contradictions? As the Diver, in Schiller's exquisite ballad, fastened +upon the rock of coral in the midst of the gloomy sea, so we cling the +more gratefully to whatever of fair thought and gentle shelter smiles out +to us in the depths of Hate and Strife. + +But, perhaps, Vaudemont would not so suddenly and so utterly have +rendered himself to a passion that began, already, completely to master +his strong spirit, if he had not, from Camilla's embarrassment, her +timidity, her blushes, intoxicated himself with the belief that his +feelings were not unshared. And who knows not that such a belief, once +cherished, ripens our own love to a development in which hours are as +years? + +It was, then, with such emotions as made him almost insensible to every +thought but the luxury of breathing the same air as his cousin, which +swept from his mind the Past, the Future--leaving nothing but a joyous, +a breathless PRESENT on the Face of Time, that he repaired to Beaufort +Court. He did not return to H---- before he went, but he wrote to Fanny +a short and hurried line to explain that he might be absent for some days +at least, and promised to write again, if he should be detained longer +than he anticipated. + +In the meanwhile, one of those successive revolutions which had marked +the eras in Fanny's moral existence took its date from that last time +they had walked and conversed together. + +The very evening of that day, some hours after Philip was gone, and after +Simon had retired to rest, Fanny was sitting before the dying fire in the +little parlour in an attitude of deep and pensive reverie. The old +woman-servant, Sarah, who, very different from Mrs. Boxer, loved Fanny +with her whole heart, came into the room as was her wont before going to +bed, to see that the fire was duly out, and all safe: and as she +approached the hearth, she started to see Fanny still up. + +"Dear heart alive!" she said; "why, Miss Fanny, you will catch your +death of cold,-what are you thinking about?" + +"Sit down, Sarah; I want to speak to you." Now, though Fanny was +exceedingly kind, and attached to Sarah, she was seldom communicative to +her, or indeed to any one. It was usually in its own silence and +darkness that that lovely mind worked out its own doubts. + +"Do you, my sweet young lady? I'm sure anything I can do--" and Sarah +seated herself in her master's great chair, and drew it close to Fanny. +There was no light in the room but the expiring fire, and it threw upward +a pale glimmer on the two faces bending over it,--the one so strangely +beautiful, so smooth, so blooming, so exquisite in its youth and +innocence,--the other withered, wrinkled, meagre, and astute. It was +like the Fairy and the Witch together. + +"Well, miss," said the crone, observing that, after a considerable pause, +Fanny was still silent,--"Well--" + +"Sarah, I have seen a wedding!" + +"Have you?" and the old woman laughed. "Oh! I heard it was to be +to-day!--young Waldron's wedding! Yes, they have been long sweethearts." + +"Were you ever married, Sarah?" + +"Lord bless you,--yes! and a very good husband I had, poor man! But he's +dead these many years; and if you had not taken me, I must have gone to +the workhus." + +"He is dead! Wasn't it very hard to live after that, Sarah?" + +"The Lord strengthens the hearts of widders!" observed Sarah, +sanctimoniously. + +"Did you marry your brother, Sarah?" said Fanny, playing with the corner +of her apron. + +"My brother!" exclaimed the old woman, aghast. "La! miss, you must not +talk in that way,--it's quite wicked and heathenish! One must not marry +one's brother!" + +"No!" said Fanny, tremblingly, and turning very pale, even by that light. +"No!--are you sure of that?" + +"It is the wickedest thing even to talk about, my dear young mistress;-- +but you're like a babby unborn!" + +Fanny was silent for some moments. At length she said, unconscious that +she was speaking aloud, "But he is not my brother, after all!" + +"Oh, miss, fie! Are you letting your pretty head run on the handsome +gentleman. _You_, too,--dear, dear! I see we're all alike, we poor femel +creturs! You! who'd have thought it? Oh, Miss Fanny!--you'll break your +heart if you goes for to fancy any such thing." + +"Any what thing?" + +"Why, that that gentleman will marry you!--I'm sure, tho' he's so simple +like, he's some great gentleman! They say his hoss is worth a hundred +pounds! Dear, dear! why didn't I ever think of this before? He must be +a very wicked man. I see, now, why he comes here. I'll speak to him, +that, I will!--a very wicked man!" + +Sarah was startled from her indignation by Fanny's rising suddenly, and +standing before her in the flickering twilight, almost like a shape +transformed,--so tall did she seem, so stately, so dignified. + +"Is it of him that you are speaking?" said she, in a voice of calm but +deep resentment--"of him! If so, Sarah, we two can live no more in the +same house." + +And these words were said with a propriety and collectedness that even, +through all her terrors, showed at once to Sarah how much they now +wronged Fanny who had suffered their lips to repeat the parrot-cry of the +"idiot girl!" + +"O! gracious me!--miss--ma'am--I am so sorry--I'd rather bite out my +tongue than say a word to offend you; it was only my love for you, dear +innocent creature that you are!" and the honest woman sobbed with real +passion as she clasped Fanny's hand. "There have been so many young +persons, good and harmless, yes, even as you are, ruined. But you don't +understand me. Miss Fanny! hear me; I must try and say what I would say. +That man, that gentleman--so proud, so well-dressed, so grand-like, will +never marry you, never--never. And if ever he says he does love you, and +you say you love him, and you two don't marry, you will be ruined and +wicked, and die--die of a broken heart!" + +The earnestness of Sarah's manner subdued and almost awed Fanny. She +sank down again in her chair, and suffered the old woman to caress and +weep over her hand for some moments in a silence that concealed the +darkest and most agitated feelings Fanny's life had hitherto known. At +length she said:-- + +"Why may he not marry me if he loves me?--he is not my brother,--indeed +he is not! I'll never call him so again." + +"He cannot marry you," said Sarah, resolved, with a sort of rude +nobleness, to persevere in what she felt to be a duty; "I don't say +anything about money, because that does not always signify. But he +cannot marry you, because--because people who are hedicated one way never +marry those who are hedicated and brought up in another. A gentleman of +that kind requires a wife to know--oh--to know ever so much; and you--" + +"Sarah," interrupted Fanny, rising again, but this time with a smile on +her face, "don't say anything more about it; I forgive you, if you +promise never to speak unkindly of him again--never--never--never, +Sarah!" + +"But may I just tell him that--that--" + +"That what?" + +"That you are so young and innocent, and has no pertector like; and that +if you were to love him it would be a shame in him--that it would!" + +And then (oh, no, Fanny, there was nothing clouded _now_ in your +reason!)--and then the woman's alarm, the modesty, the instinct, the +terror came upon her:-- + +"Never! never! I will not love him, I do not love him, indeed, Sarah. If +you speak to him, I will never look you in the face again. It is all +past--all, dear Sarah!" + +She kissed the old woman; and Sarah, fancying that her sagacity and +counsel had prevailed, promised all she was asked; so they went up-stairs +together--friends. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + "As the wind + Sobs, an uncertain sweetness comes from out + The orange-trees. + + Rise up, Olympia.--She sleeps soundly. Ho! + Stirring at last." BARRY CORNWALL. + +The next day, Fanny was seen by Sarah counting the little hoard that she +had so long and so painfully saved for her benefactor's tomb. The money +was no longer wanted for that object. Fanny had found another; she said +nothing to Sarah or to Simon. But there was a strange complacent smile +upon her lip as she busied herself in her work, that puzzled the old +woman. Late at noon came the postman's unwonted knock at the door. A +letter!--a letter for Miss Fanny. A letter!--the first she had ever +received in her life! And it was from him!--and it began with "Dear +Fanny." Vaudemont had called her "dear Fanny" a hundred times, and the +expression had become a matter of course. But "Dear Fanny" seemed so +very different when it was written. The letter could not well be +shorter, nor, all things considered, colder. But the girl found no fault +with it. It began with "Dear Fanny," and it ended with "yours truly." +"--Yours truly--mine truly--and how kind to write at all!" Now it so +happened that Vaudemont, having never merged the art of the penman into +that rapid scrawl into which people, who are compelled to write hurriedly +and constantly, degenerate, wrote a remarkably good hand,--bold, clear, +symmetrical--almost too good a hand for one who was not to make money by +caligraphy. And after Fanny had got the words by heart, she stole gently +to a cupboard and took forth some specimens of her own hand, in the shape +of house and work memoranda, and extracts which, the better to help her +memory, she had made from the poem-book Vaudemont had given her. She +gravely laid his letter by the side of these specimens, and blushed at +the contrast; yet, after all, her own writing, though trembling and +irresolute, was far from a bad or vulgar hand. But emulation was now +fairly roused within her. Vaudemont, pre-occupied by more engrossing +thoughts, and indeed, forgetting a danger which had seemed so thoroughly +to have passed away, did not in his letter caution Fanny against going +out alone. She remarked this; and having completely recovered her own +alarm at the attempt that had been made on her liberty, she thought she +was now released from her promise to guard against a past and imaginary +peril. So after dinner she slipped out alone, and went to the mistress +of the school where she had received her elementary education. She had +ever since continued her acquaintance with that lady, who, kindhearted, +and touched by her situation, often employed her industry, and was far +from blind to the improvement that had for some time been silently +working in the mind of her old pupil. + +Fanny had a long conversation with this lady, and she brought back a +bundle of books. The light might have been seen that night, and many +nights after, burning long and late from her little window. And having +recovered her old freedom of habits, which Simon, poor man, did not +notice, and which Sarah, thinking that anything was better than moping at +home, did not remonstrate against, Fanny went out regularly for two +hours, or sometimes for even a longer period, every evening after old +Simon had composed himself to the nap that filled up the interval between +dinner and tea. + +In a very short time--a time that with ordinary stimulants would have +seemed marvellously short--Fanny's handwriting was not the same thing; +her manner of talking became different; she no longer called herself +"Fanny" when she spoke; the music of her voice was more quiet and +settled; her sweet expression of face was more thoughtful; the eyes +seemed to have deepened in their very colour; she was no longer heard +chaunting to herself as she tripped along. The books that she nightly +fed on had passed into her mind; the poetry that had ever unconsciously +sported round her young years began now to create poetry in herself. +Nay, it might almost have seemed as if that restless disorder of the +intellect, which the dullards had called Idiotcy, had been the wild +efforts, not of Folly, but of GENIUS seeking to find its path and outlet +from the cold and dreary solitude to which the circumstances of her early +life had compelled it. + +Days, even weeks, passed--she never spoke of Vaudemont. And once, when +Sarah, astonished and bewildered by the change in her young mistress, +asked: + +"When does the gentleman come back?" + +Fanny answered, with a mysterious smile, "Not yet, I hope,--not quite +yet!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + "Thierry. I do begin + To feel an alteration in my nature, + And in his full-sailed confidence a shower + Of gentle rain, that falling on the fire + Hath quenched it. + + How is my heart divided + Between the duty of a son and love!" + BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER: _Thierry and Theodorat_. + +Vaudemont had now been a month at Beaufort Court. The scene of a +country-house, with the sports that enliven it, and the accomplishments +it calls forth, was one in which he was well fitted to shine. He had +been an excellent shot as a boy; and though long unused to the fowling- +piece, had, in India, acquired a deadly precision with the rifle; so that +a very few days of practice in the stubbles and covers of Beaufort Court +made his skill the theme of the guests and the admiration of the keepers. +Hunting began, and--this pursuit, always so strong a passion in the +active man, and which, to the turbulence and agitation of his half-tamed +breast, now excited by a kind of frenzy of hope and fear, gave a vent and +release--was a sport in which he was yet more fitted to excel. His +horsemanship, his daring, the stone walls he leaped and the floods +through which he dashed, furnished his companions with wondering tale and +comment on their return home. Mr. Marsden, who, with some other of +Arthur's early friends, had been invited to Beaufort Court, in order to +welcome its expected heir, and who retained all the prudence which had +distinguished him of yore, when having ridden over old Simon he +dismounted to examine the knees of his horse;--Mr. Marsden, a skilful +huntsman, who rode the most experienced horses in the world, and who +generally contrived to be in at the death without having leaped over +anything higher than a hurdle, suffering the bolder quadruped (in case +what is called the "knowledge of the country"--that is, the knowledge of +gaps and gates--failed him) to perform the more dangerous feats alone, as +he quietly scrambled over or scrambled through upon foot, and remounted +the well-taught animal when it halted after the exploit, safe and sound; +--Mr. Marsden declared that he never saw a rider with so little judgment +as Monsieur de Vaudemont, and that the devil was certainly in him. + +This sort of reputation, commonplace and merely physical as it was in +itself, had a certain effect upon Camilla; it might be an effect of fear. +I do not say, for I do not know, what her feelings towards Vaudemont +exactly were. As the calmest natures are often those the most hurried +away by their contraries, so, perhaps, he awed and dazzled rather than +pleased her;--at least, he certainly forced himself on her interest. +Still she would have started in terror if any one had said to her, "Do +you love your betrothed less than when you met by that happy lake?"--and +her heart would have indignantly rebuked the questioner. The letters of +her lover were still long and frequent; hers were briefer and more +subdued. But then there was constraint in the correspondence--it was +submitted to her mother. Whatever might be Vaudemont's manner to Camilla +whenever occasion threw them alone together, he certainly did not make +his attentions glaring enough to be remarked. His eye watched her rather +than his lip addressed; he kept as much aloof as possible from the rest +of her family, and his customary bearing was silent even to gloom. But +there were moments when he indulged in a fitful exuberance of spirits, +which had something strained and unnatural. He had outlived Lord +Lilburne's short liking; for since he had resolved no longer to keep +watch on that noble gamester's method of play, he played but little +himself; and Lord Lilburne saw that he had no chance of ruining him-- +there was, therefore, no longer any reason to like him. But this was not +all; when Vaudemont had been at the house somewhat more than two weeks, +Lilburne, petulant and impatient, whether at his refusals to join the +card-table, or at the moderation with which, when he did, he confined his +ill-luck to petty losses, one day limped up to him, as he stood at the +embrasure of the window, gazing on the wide lands beyond, and said:-- + +"Vaudemont, you are bolder in hunting, they tell me, than you are at +whist." + +"Honours don't tell against one--over a hedge!" + +"What do you mean?" said Lilburne, rather haughtily. + +Vaudemont was, at that moment, in one of those bitter moods when the +sense of his situation, the sight of the usurper in his home, often swept +away the gentler thoughts inspired by his fatal passion. And the tone of +Lord Lilburne, and his loathing to the man, were too much for his temper. + +"Lord Lilburne," he said, and his lip curled, "if you had been born poor, +you would have made a great fortune--you play luckily." + +"How am I to take this, sir?" + +"As you please," answered Vaudemont, calmly, but with an eye of fire. +And he turned away. + +Lilburne remained on the spot very thoughtful: "Hum! he suspects me. I +cannot quarrel on such ground--the suspicion itself dishonours me--I must +seek another." + +The next day, Lilburne, who was familiar with Mr. Harsden (though the +latter gentleman never played at the same table), asked that prudent +person after breakfast if he happened to have his pistols with him. + +"Yes; I always take them into the country--one may as well practise when +one has the opportunity. Besides, sportsmen are often quarrelsome; and +if it is known that one shoots well,--it keeps one out of quarrels!" + +"Very true," said Lilburne, rather admiringly. "I have made the same +remark myself when I was younger. I have not shot with a pistol for +since years. I am well enough now to walk out with the help of a stick. +Suppose we practise for half-an-hour or so." + +"With all my heart," said Mr. Marsden. + +The pistols were brought, and they strolled forth;--Lord Lilburne found +his hand out. + +"As I never hunt now," said the peer, and he gnashed his teeth, and +glanced at his maimed limb; "for though lameness would not prevent my +keeping my seat, violent exercise hurts my leg; and Brodie says any fresh +accident might bring on tic douloureux;--and as my gout does not permit +me to join the shooting parties at present, it would be a kindness in you +to lend me your pistols--it would while away an hour or so; though, thank +Heaven, my duelling days are over!" + +"Certainly," said Mr. Marsden; and the pistols were consigned to Lord +Lilburne. + +Four days from the date, as Mr. Marsden, Vaudemont, and some other +gentlemen were making for the covers, they came upon Lord Lilburne, who, +in a part of the park not within sight or sound of the house, was amusing +himself with Mr. Marsden's pistols, which Dykeman was at hand to load for +him. + +He turned round, not at all disconcerted by the interruption. + +"You have no idea how I've improved, Marsden:--just see!" and he pointed +to a glove nailed to a tree. "I've hit that mark twice in five times; +and every time I have gone straight enough along the line to have killed +my man." + +"Ay, the mark itself does not so much signify," said Mr. Marsden, "at +least, not in actual duelling--the great thing is to be in the line." + +While he spoke, Lord Lilburne's ball went a third time through the glove. +His cold bright eye turned on Vaudemont, as he said, with a smile,-- + +"They tell me you shoot well with a fowling-piece, my dear Vaudemont--are +you equally adroit with a pistol?" + +"You may see, if you like; but you take aim, Lord Lilburne; that would be +of no use in English duelling. Permit me." + +He walked to the glove, and tore from it one of the fingers, which he +fastened separately to the tree, took the pistol from Dykeman as he +walked past him, gained the spot whence to fire, turned at once round, +without apparent aim, and the finger fell to the ground. + +Lilburne stood aghast. + +"That's wonderful!" said Marsden; "quite wonderful. Where the devil did +you get such a knack?--for it is only knack after all!" + +"I lived for many years in a country where the practice was constant, +where all that belongs to rifle-shooting was a necessary accomplishment-- +a country in which man had often to contend against the wild beast. In +civilised states, man himself supplies the place of the wild beast--but +we don't hunt him!--Lord Lilburne" (and this was added with a smiling and +disdainful whisper), "you must practise a little more." + +But, disregardful of the advice, from that day Lord Lilburne's morning +occupation was gone. He thought no longer of a duel with Vaudemont. As +soon as the sportsman had left him, he bade Dykeman take up the pistols, +and walked straight home into the library, where Robert Beaufort, who was +no sportsman, generally spent his mornings. + +He flung himself into an arm-chair, and said, as he stirred the fire with +unusual vehemence,-- + +"Beaufort, I'm very sorry I asked you to invite Vaudemont. He's a very +ill-bred, disagreeable fellow!" Beaufort threw down his steward's +account-book, on which he was employed, and replied,-- + +"Lilburne, I have never had an easy moment since that man has been in the +house. As he was your guest, I did not like to speak before, but don't +you observe--you must observe--how like he is to the old family +portraits? The more I have examined him, the more another resemblance +grows upon me. In a word," said Robert, pausing and breathing hard, "if +his name were not Vaudemont--if his history were not, apparently, so well +known, I should say--I should swear, that it is Philip Morton who sleeps +under this roof!" + +"Ha!" said Lilburne, with an earnestness that surprised Beaufort, who +expected to have heard his brother-in-law's sneering sarcasm at his +fears; "the likeness you speak of to the old portraits did strike me; it +struck Marsden, too, the other day, as we were passing through the +picture-gallery; and Marsden remarked it aloud to Vaudemont. I remember +now that he changed countenance and made no answer. Hush! hush! hold +your tongue, let me think--let me think. This Philip--yes--yes--I and +Arthur saw him with--with Gawtrey--in Paris--" + +"Gawtrey! was that the name of the rogue he was said to--" + +"Yes--yes--yes. Ah! now I guess the meaning of those looks--those +words," muttered Lilburne between his teeth. "This pretension to the +name of Vaudemont was always apocryphal--the story always but half +believed--the invention of a woman in love with him--the claim on your +property is made at the very time he appears in England. Ha! Have you a +newspaper there? Give it me. No! 'tis not in this paper. Ring the bell +for the file!" + +"What's the matter? you terrify me!" gasped out Mr. Beaufort, as he rang +the bell. + +"Why! have you not seen an advertisement repeated several times within +the last month?" + +"I never read advertisements; except in the county paper, if land is to +be sold." + +"Nor I often; but this caught my eye. John" (here the servant entered), +"bring the file of the newspapers. The name of the witness whom Mrs. +Morton appealed to was Smith, the same name as the captain; what was the +Christian name?" + +"I don't remember." + +"Here are the papers--shut the door--and here is the advertisement: 'If +Mr. William Smith, son of Jeremiah Smith, who formerly rented the farm of +Shipdale-Bury, under the late Right Hon. Charles Leopold Beaufort (that's +your uncle), and who emigrated in the year 18-- to Australia, will apply +to Mr. Barlow, Solicitor, Essex Street, Strand, he will hear of something +to his advantage.'" + +"Good Heavens! why did not you mention this to me before?" + +"Because I did not think it of any importance. In the first place, there +might be some legacy left to the man, quite distinct from your business. +Indeed, that was the probable supposition;--or even if connected with the +claim, such an advertisement might be but a despicable attempt to +frighten you. Never mind--don't look so pale--after all, this is a proof +that the witness is not found--that Captain Smith is neither the Smith, +nor has discovered where the Smith is!" + +"True!" observed Mr. Beaufort: "true--very true!" + +"Humph!" said Lord Lilburne, who was still rapidly glancing over the +file--"Here is another advertisement which I never saw before: this +looks suspicious: 'If the person who called on the -- of September, on +Mr. Morton, linendraper, &c., of N----, will renew his application +personally or by letter, he may now obtain the information he sought +for.'" + +"Morton!--the woman's brother! their uncle! it is too clear!" + +"But what brings this man, if he be really Philip Morton, what brings him +here!--to spy or to threaten?" + +"I will get him out of the house this day." + +"No--no; turn the watch upon himself. I see now; he is attracted by your +daughter; sound her quietly; don't tell her to discourage his +confidences; find out if he ever speaks of these Mortons. Ha! I +recollect--he has spoken to me of the Mortons, but vaguely--I forget +what. Humph! this is a man of spirit and daring--watch him, I say,-- +watch him! When does Arthur came back?" + +"He has been travelling so slowly, for he still complains of his health, +and has had relapses; but he ought to be in Paris this week, perhaps he +is there now. Good Heavens! he must not meet this man!" + +"Do what I tell you! get out all from your daughter. Never fear: he can +do nothing against you except by law. But if he really like Camilla--" + +"He!--Philip Morton--the adventurer--the--" + +"He is the eldest son: remember you thought even of accepting the second. +He--nay find the witness--he may win his suit; if he likes Camilla, there +may be a compromise." + +Mr. Beaufort felt as if turned to ice. + +"You think him likely to win this infamous suit, then?" he faltered. + +"Did not you guard against the possibility by securing the brother? More +worth while to do it with this man. Hark ye! the politics of private are +like those of public life,--when the state can't crush a demagogue, it +should entice him over. If you can ruin this dog" (and Lilburne stamped +his foot fiercely, forgetful of the gout), "ruin him! hang him! If you +can't" (and here with a wry face he caressed the injured foot), "if you +can't ('sdeath, what a twinge!), and he can ruin you,--bring him into the +family, and make his secret ours! I must go and lie down--I have +overexcited myself." + +In great perplexity Beaufort repaired at once to Camilla. His nervous +agitation betrayed itself, though he smiled a ghastly smile, and intended +to be exceeding cool and collected. His questions, which confused and +alarmed her, soon drew out the fact that the very first time Vaudemont +had been introduced to her he had spoken of the Mortons; and that he had +often afterwards alluded to the subject, and seemed at first strongly +impressed with the notion that the younger brother was under Beaufort's +protection; though at last he appeared reluctantly convinced of the +contrary. Robert, however agitated, preserved at least enough of his +natural slyness not to let out that he suspected Vaudemont to be Philip +Morton himself, for he feared lest his daughter should betray that +suspicion to its object. + +"But," he said, with a look meant to win confidence, "I dare say he knows +these young men. I should like myself to know more about them. Learn +all you can, and tell me, and, I say--I say, Camilla,--he! he! he!--you +have made a conquest, you little flirt, you! Did he, this Vaudemont, +ever say how much he admired you?" + +"He!--never!" said Camilla, blushing, and then turning pale. + +"But he looks it. Ah! you say nothing, then. Well, well, don't +discourage him; that is to say,--yes, don't discourage him. Talk to him +as much as you can,--ask him about his own early life. I've a particular +wish to know--'tis of great importance to me." + +"But, my dear father," said Camilla, trembling and thoroughly bewildered, +"I fear this man,--I fear--I fear--" + +Was she going to add, "I fear myself?" I know not; but she stopped +short, and burst into tears. + +"Hang these girls!" muttered Mr. Beaufort, "always crying when they +ought to be of use to one. Go down, dry your eyes, do as I tell you,-- +get all you can from him. Fear him!--yes, I dare say she does!" +muttered the poor man, as he closed the door. + +From that time what wonder that Camilla's manner to Vaudemont was yet +more embarrassed than ever: what wonder that he put his own heart's +interpretation on that confusion. Beaufort took care to thrust her more +often than before in his way; he suddenly affected a creeping, fawning +civility to Vaudemont; he was sure he was fond of music; what did he +think of that new air Camilla was so fond of? He must be a judge of +scenery, he who had seen so much: there were beautiful landscapes in the +neighbourhood, and, if he would forego his sports, Camilla drew prettily, +had an eye for that sort of thing, and was so fond of riding. + +Vaudemont was astonished at this change, but his delight was greater than +the astonishment. He began to perceive that his identity was suspected; +perhaps Beaufort, more generous than he had deemed him, meant to repay +every early wrong or harshness by one inestimable blessing. The generous +interpret motives in extremes--ever too enthusiastic or too severe. +Vaudemont felt as if he had wronged the wronger; he began to conquer even +his dislike to Robert Beaufort. For some days he was thus thrown much +with Camilla; the questions her father forced her to put to him, uttered +tremulously and fearfully, seemed to him proof of her interest in his +fate. His feelings to Camilla, so sudden in their growth--so ripened and +so favoured by the Sub-Ruler of the world--CIRCUMSTANCE--might not, +perhaps, have the depth and the calm completeness of that, One True Love, +of which there are many counterfeits,--and which in Man, at least, +possibly requires the touch and mellowness, if not of time, at least of +many memories--of perfect and tried conviction of the faith, the worth, +the value and the beauty of the heart to which it clings;--but those +feelings were, nevertheless, strong, ardent, and intense. He believed +himself beloved--he was in Elysium. But he did not yet declare the +passion that beamed in his eyes. No! he would not yet claim the hand of +Camilla Beaufort, for he imagined the time would soon come when he could +claim it, not as the inferior or the suppliant, but as the lord of her +father's fate. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + "Here's something got amongst us!"--_Knight of Malta_. + +Two or three nights after his memorable conversation with Robert +Beaufort, as Lord Lilburne was undressing, he said to his valet: + +"Dykeman, I am getting well." + +"Indeed, my lord, I never saw your lordship look better." + +"There you lie. I looked better last year--I looked better the year +before--and I looked better and better every year back to the age of +twenty-one! But I'm not talking of looks, no man with money wants looks. +I am talking of feelings. I feel better. The gout is almost gone. I +have been quiet now for a month--that's a long time--time wasted when, at +my age, I have so little time to waste. Besides, as you know, I am very +much in love!" + +"In love, my lord? I thought that you told me never to speak of--" + +"Blockhead! what the deuce was the good of speaking about it when I was +wrapped in flannels! I am never in love when I am ill--who is? I am +well now, or nearly so; and I've had things to vex me--things to make +this place very disagreeable; I shall go to town, and before this day +week, perhaps, that charming face may enliven the solitude of Fernside. +I shall look to it myself now. I see you're going to say something. +Spare yourself the trouble! nothing ever goes wrong if I myself take it +in hand." + +The next day Lord Lilburne, who, in truth, felt himself uncomfortable and +_gene_ in the presence of Vaudemont; who had won as much as the guests at +Beaufort Court seemed inclined to lose; and who made it the rule of his +life to consult his own pleasure and amusement before anything else, sent +for his post-horses, and informed his brother-in-law of his departure. + +"And you leave me alone with this man just when I am convinced that he is +the person we suspected! My dear Lilburne, do stay till he goes." + +"Impossible! I am between fifty and sixty--every moment is precious at +that time of life. Besides, I've said all I can say; rest quiet--act on +the defensive--entangle this cursed Vaudemont, or Morton, or whoever he +be, in the mesh of your daughter's charms, and then get rid of him, not +before. This can do no harm, let the matter turn out how it will. Read +the papers; and send for Blackwell if you want advice on any, new +advertisements. I don't see that anything more is to be done at present. +You can write to me; I shall be at Park Lane or Fernside. Take care of +yourself. You're a lucky fellow--you never have the gout! Good-bye." + +And in half an hour Lord Lilburne was on the road to London. + +The departure of Lilburne was a signal to many others, especially and +naturally to those he himself had invited. He had not announced to such +visitors his intention of going till his carriage was at the door. This +might be delicacy or carelessness, just as people chose to take it: and +how they did take it, Lord Lilburne, much too selfish to be well-bred, +did not care a rush. The next day half at least of the guests were gone; +and even Mr. Marsden, who had been specially invited on Arthur's account, +announced that he should go after dinner! he always travelled by night-- +he slept well on the road--a day was not lost by it. + +"And it is so long since you saw Arthur," said Mr. Beaufort, in +remonstrance, "and I expect him every day." + +"Very sorry--best fellow in the world--but the fact is, that I am not +very well myself. I want a little sea air; I shall go to Dover or +Brighton. But I suppose you will have the house full again about +Christmas; in that case I shall be delighted to repeat my visit." + +The fact was, that Mr. Marsden, without Lilburne's intellect on the one +hand, or vices on the other, was, like that noble sensualist, one of the +broken pieces of the great looking-glass "SELF." He was noticed in +society as always haunting the places where Lilburne played at cards, +carefully choosing some other table, and as carefully betting upon +Lilburne's side. The card-tables were now broken up; Vaudemont's +superiority in shooting, and the manner in which he engrossed the talk of +the sportsmen, displeased him. He was bored--he wanted to be off-and off +he went. Vaudemont felt that the time was come for him to depart, too; +Robert Beaufort--who felt in his society the painful fascination of the +bird with the boa, who hated to see him there, and dreaded to see him +depart, who had not yet extracted all the confirmation of his persuasions +that he required, for Vaudemont easily enough parried the artless +questions of Camilla--pressed him to stay with so eager a hospitality, +and made Camilla herself falter out, against her will, and even against +her remonstrances--(she never before had dared to remonstrate with either +father or mother),--"Could not you stay a few days longer?"--that +Vaudemont was too contented to yield to his own inclinations; and so for +some little time longer he continued to move before the eyes of Mr. +Beaufort--stern, sinister, silent, mysterious--like one of the family +pictures stepped down from its frame. Vaudemont wrote, however, to +Fanny, to excuse his delay; and anxious to hear from her as to her own +and Simon's health, bade her direct her letter to his lodging in London +(of which he gave her the address), whence, if he still continued to +defer his departure, it would be forwarded to him. He did not do this, +however, till he had been at Beaufort Court several days after Lilburne's +departure, and till, in fact, two days before the eventful one which +closed his visit. + +The party, now greatly diminished; were at breakfast, when the servant +entered, as usual, with the letter-bag. Mr. Beaufort, who was always +important and pompous in the small ceremonials of life, unlocked the +precious deposit with slow dignity, drew forth the newspapers, which he +threw on the table, and which the gentlemen of the party eagerly seized; +then, diving out one by one, jerked first a letter to Camilla, next a +letter to Vaudemont, and, thirdly, seized a letter for himself. + +"I beg that there may be no ceremony, Monsieur de Vaudemont: pray excuse +me and follow my example: I see this letter is from my son;" and he broke +the seal. + +The letter ran thus: + +"MY DEAR FATHER,--Almost as soon as you receive this, I shall be with +you. Ill as I am, I can have no peace till I see and consult you. The +most startling--the most painful intelligence has just been conveyed to +me. It is of a nature not to bear any but personal communication. + + "Your affectionate son, + "ARTHUR BEAUFORT. +"Boulogne. + +"P.S.--This will go by the same packet-boat that I shall take myself, and +can only reach you a few hours before I arrive." + + +Mr. Beaufort's trembling hand dropped the letter--he grasped the elbow of +the chair to save himself from falling. It was clear!--the same visitor +who had persecuted himself had now sought his son! He grew sick, his son +might have heard the witness--might be convinced. His son himself now +appeared to him as a foe--for the father dreaded the son's honour! He +glanced furtively round the table, till his eye rested on Vaudemont, and +his terror was redoubled, for Vaudemont's face, usually so calm, was +animated to an extraordinary degree, as he now lifted it from the letter +he had just read. Their eyes met. Robert Beaufort looked on him as a +prisoner at the bar looks on the accusing counsel, when he first +commences his harangue. + +"Mr. Beaufort," said the guest, "the letter you have given me summons me +to London on important business, and immediately. Suffer me to send for +horses at your earliest convenience." + +"What's the matter?" said the feeble and seldom heard voice of Mrs. +Beaufort. "What's the matter, Robert?--is Arthur coming?" + +"He comes to-day," said the father, with a deep sigh; and Vaudemont, at +that moment rising from his half-finished breakfast, with a bow that +included the group, and with a glance that lingered on Camilla, as she +bent over her own unopened letter (a letter from Winandermere, the seal +of which she dared not yet to break), quitted the room. He hastened to +his own chamber, and strode to and fro with a stately step--the step of +the Master--then, taking forth the letter, he again hurried over its +contents. They ran thus: + +DEAR, Sir,--At last the missing witness has applied to me. He proves to +be, as you conjectured, the same person who had called on Mr. Roger +Morton; but as there are some circumstances on which I wish to take your +instructions without a moment's delay, I shall leave London by the mail, +and wait you at D---- (at the principal inn), which is, I understand, +twenty miles on the high road from Beaufort Court. + + "I have the honor to be, sir, + "Yours, &c., + "JOHN BARLOW. + + +Vaudemont was yet lost in the emotions that this letter aroused, when +they came to announce that his chaise was arrived. As he went down the +stairs he met Camilla, who was on the way to her own room. + +"Miss Beaufort," said he, in a low and tremulous voice, "in wishing you +farewell I may not now say more. I leave you, and, strange to say, I do +not regret it, for I go upon an errand that may entitle me to return +again, and speak those thoughts which are uppermost in my soul even at +this moment." + +He raised her hand to his lips as he spoke, and at that moment Mr. +Beaufort looked from the door of his own room, and cried, "Camilla." She +was too glad to escape. Philip gazed after her light form for an +instant, and then hurried down the stairs. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + + "_Longueville_.--What! are you married, Beaufort? + _Beaufort_.--Ay, as fast + As words, and hands, and hearts, and priest, + Could make us."--BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER: _Noble Gentleman_. + +In the parlour of the inn at D------ sat Mr. John Barlow. He had just +finished his breakfast, and was writing letters and looking over papers +connected with his various business--when the door was thrown open, and a +gentleman entered abruptly. + +"Mr. Beaufort," said the lawyer rising, "Mr. Philip Beaufort--for such I +now feel you are by right--though," he added, with his usual formal and +quiet smile, "not yet by law; and much--very much, remains to be done to +make the law and the right the same;--I congratulate you on having +something at last to work on. I had begun to despair of finding our +witness, after a month's advertising; and had commenced other +investigations, of which I will speak to you presently, when yesterday, +on my return to town from an errand on your business, I had the pleasure +of a visit from William Smith himself.--My dear sir, do not yet be too +sanguine.--It seems that this poor fellow, having known misfortune, was +in America when the first fruitless inquiries were made. Long after this +he returned to the colony, and there met with a brother, who, as I drew +from him, was a convict. He helped the brother to escape. They both +came to England. William learned from a distant relation, who lent him +some little money, of the inquiry that had been set on foot for him; +consulted his brother, who desired him to leave all to his management. +The brother afterwards assured him that you and Mr. Sidney were both +dead; and it seems (for the witness is simple enough to allow me to +extract all) this same brother then went to Mr. Beaufort to hold out the +threat of a lawsuit, and to offer the sale of the evidence yet +existing--" + +"And Mr. Beaufort?" + +"I am happy to say, seems to have spurned the offer. Meanwhile William, +incredulous of his brother's report, proceeded to N----, learned nothing +from Mr. Morton, met his brother again--and the brother (confessing that +he had deceived him in the assertion that you and Mr. Sidney were dead) +told him that he had known you in earlier life, and set out to Paris to +seek you--" + +"Known me?--To Paris?" + +"More of this presently. William returned to town, living hardly and +penuriously on the little his brother bestowed on him, too melancholy and +too poor for the luxury of a newspaper, and never saw our advertisement, +till, as luck would have it, his money was out; he had heard nothing +further of his brother, and he went for new assistance to the same +relation who had before aided him. This relation, to his surprise, +received the poor man very kindly, lent him what he wanted, and then +asked him if he had not seen our advertisement. The newspaper shown him. +contained both the advertisements--that relating to Mr. Morton's visitor, +that containing his own name. He coupled them both together--called on +me at once. I was from town on your business. He returned to his own +home; the next morning (yesterday morning) came a letter from his +brother, which I obtained from him at last, and with promises that no +harm should happen to the writer on account of it." + +Vaudemont took the letter and read as follows: + +"DEAR WILLIAM,--No go about the youngster I went after: all researches in +vane. Paris develish expensive. Never mind, I have sene the other--the +young B--; different sort of fellow from his father--very ill--frightened +out of his wits--will go off to the governor, take me with him as far as +Bullone. I think we shall settel it now. Mind as I saide before, don't +put your foot in it. I send you a Nap in the Seele--all I can spare. + + "Yours, + "JEREMIAH SMITH. + +"Direct to me, Monsieur Smith--always a safe name--Ship Inn, Bullone." + + +"Jeremiah--Smith--Jeremiah!" + +"Do you know the name then?" said Mr. Barlow. "Well; the poor man owns +that he was frightened at his brother--that he wished to do what is +right--that he feared his brother would not let him--that your father was +very kind to him--and so he came off at once to me; and I was very +luckily at home to assure him that the heir was alive, and prepared to +assert his rights. Now then, Mr. Beaufort, we have the witness, but will +that suffice us? I fear not. Will the jury believe him with no other +testimony at his back? Consider!--When he was gone I put myself in +communication with some officers at Bow Street about this brother of his +--a most notorious character, commonly called in the police slang Dashing +Jerry--" + +"Ah! Well, proceed!" + +"Your one witness, then, is a very poor, penniless man, his brother a +rogue, a convict: this witness, too, is the most timid, fluctuating, +irresolute fellow I ever saw; I should tremble for his testimony against +a sharp, bullying lawyer. And that, sir, is all at present we have to +look to." + +"I see--I see. It is dangerous--it is hazardous. But truth is truth; +justice--justice! I will run the risk." + +"Pardon me, if I ask, did you ever know this brother?--were you ever +absolutely acquainted with him--in the same house?" + +"Many years since--years of early hardship and trial--I was acquainted +with him--what then?" + +"I am sorry to hear it," and the lawyer looked grave. "Do you not see +that if this witness is browbeat--is disbelieved, and if it be shown that +you, the claimant, was--forgive my saying it--intimate with a brother of +such a character, why the whole thing might be made to look like perjury +and conspiracy. If we stop here it is an ugly business!" + +"And is this all you have to say to me? The witness is found--the only +surviving witness--the only proof I ever shall or ever can obtain, and +you seek to terrify me--me too--from using the means for redress +Providence itself vouchsafes me--Sir, I will not hear you!" + +"Mr. Beaufort, you are impatient--it is natural. But if we go to law-- +that is, should I have anything to do with it, wait--wait till your case +is good. And hear me yet. This is not the only proof--this is not the +only witness; you forget that there was an examined copy of the register; +we may yet find that copy, and the person who copied it may yet be alive +to attest it. Occupied with this thought, and weary of waiting the +result of our advertisement, I resolved to go into the neighbourhood of +Fernside; luckily, there was a gentleman's seat to be sold in the +village. I made the survey of this place my apparent business. After +going over the house, I appeared anxious to see how far some alterations +could be made--alterations to render it more like Lord Lilburne's villa. +This led me to request a sight of that villa--a crown to the housekeeper +got me admittance. The housekeeper had lived with your father, and been +retained by his lordship. I soon, therefore, knew which were the rooms +the late Mr. Beaufort had principally occupied; shown into his study, +where it was probable he would keep his papers, I inquired if it were the +same furniture (which seemed likely enough from its age and fashion) as +in your father's time: it was so; Lord Lilburne had bought the house just +as it stood, and, save a few additions in the drawing-room, the general +equipment of the villa remained unaltered. You look impatient!--I'm +coming to the point. My eye fell upon an old-fashioned bureau--" + +"But we searched every drawer in that bureau!" + +"Any secret drawers?" + +"Secret drawers! No! there were no secret drawers that I ever heard +of!" + +Mr. Barlow rubbed his hands and mused a moment. + +"I was struck with that bureau; for any father had had one like it. It +is not English--it is of Dutch manufacture." + +"Yes, I have heard that my father bought it at a sale, three or four +years after his marriage." + +"I learned this from the housekeeper, who was flattered by my admiring +it. I could not find out from her at what sale it had been purchased, +but it was in the neighbourhood she was sure. I had now a date to go +upon; I learned, by careless inquiries, what sales near Fernside had +taken place in a certain year. A gentleman had died at that date whose +furniture was sold by auction. With great difficulty, I found that his +widow was still alive, living far up the country: I paid her a visit; +and, not to fatigue you with too long an account, I have only to say that +she not only assured me that she perfectly remembered the bureau, but +that it had secret drawers and wells, very curiously contrived; nay, she +showed me the very catalogue in which the said receptacles are noticed in +capitals, to arrest the eye of the bidder, and increase the price of the +bidding. That your father should never have revealed where he stowed +this document is natural enough, during the life of his uncle; his own +life was not spared long enough to give him much opportunity to explain +afterwards, but I feel perfectly persuaded in my mind--that unless Mr. +Robert Beaufort discovered that paper amongst the others he examined--in +one of those drawers will be found all we want to substantiate your +claims. This is the more likely from your father never mentioning, even +to your mother apparently, the secret receptacles in the bureau. Why +else such mystery? The probability is that he received the document +either just before or at the time he purchased the bureau, or that he +bought it for that very purpose: and, having once deposited the paper in +a place he deemed secure from curiosity--accident, carelessness, policy, +perhaps, rather shame itself (pardon me) for the doubt of your mother's +discretion, that his secrecy seemed to imply, kept him from ever alluding +to the circumstance, even when the intimacy of after years made him more +assured of your mother's self-sacrificing devotion to his interests. At +his uncle's death he thought to repair all!" + +"And how, if that be true--if that Heaven which has delivered me hitherto +from so many dangers, has, in the very secrecy of my poor father, saved +my birthright front the gripe of the usurper--how, I say, is---" + +"The bureau to pass into our possession? That is the difficulty. But we +must contrive it somehow, if all else fail us; meanwhile, as I now feel +sure that there has been a copy of that register made, I wish to know +whether I should not immediately cross the country into Wales, and see if +I can find any person in the neighbourhood of A----- who did examine the +copy taken: for, mark you, the said copy is only of importance as leading +to the testimony of the actual witness who took it." + +"Sir," said Vaudemont, heartily shaking Mr. Barlow by the hand, "forgive +my first petulance. I see in you the very man I desired and wanted--your +acuteness surprises and encourages me. Go to Wales, and God speed you!" + +"Very well!--in five minutes I shall be off. Meanwhile, see the witness +yourself; the sight of his benefactor's son will do more to keep him +steady than anything else. There's his address, and take care not to +give him money. And now I will order my chaise--the matter begins to +look worth expense. Oh! I forgot to say that Monsieur Liancourt called +on you yesterday about his own affairs. He wishes much to consult you. +I told him you would probably be this evening in town, and he said he +would wait you at your lodging." + +"Yes--I will lose not a moment in going to London, and visiting our +witness. And he saw my mother at the altar! My poor mother--Ah, how +could my father have doubted her!" and as he spoke, he blushed for the +first time with shame at that father's memory. He could not yet conceive +that one so frank, one usually so bold and open, could for years have +preserved from the woman who had sacrificed all to him, a secret to her +so important! That was, in fact, the only blot on his father's honour-- +a foul and grave blot it was. Heavily had the punishment fallen on those +whom the father loved best! Alas, Philip had not yet learned what +terrible corrupters are the Hope and the Fear of immense Wealthy, even to +men reputed the most honourable, if they have been reared and pampered in +the belief that wealth is the Arch blessing of life. Rightly considered, +in Philip Beaufort's solitary meanness lay the vast moral of this world's +darkest truth! + +Mr. Barlow was gone. Philip was about to enter his own chaise, when a +dormeuse-and-four drove up to the inn-door to change horses. A young man +was reclining, at his length, in the carriage, wrapped in cloaks, and +with a ghastly paleness--the paleness of long and deep disease upon his +cheeks. He turned his dim eye with, perhaps, a glance of the sick man's +envy on that strong and athletic, form, majestic with health and vigour, +as it stood beside the more humble vehicle. Philip did not, however, +notice the new arrival; he sprang into the chaise, it rattled on, and +thus, unconsciously, Arthur Beaufort and his cousin had again met. To +which was now the Night--to which the Morning? + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + "_Bakam_. Let my men guard the walls. + _Syana_. And mine the temple."--_The Island Princess_. + +While thus eventfully the days and the weeks had passed for Philip, no +less eventfully, so far as the inner life is concerned, had they glided +away for Fanny. She had feasted in quiet and delighted thought on the +consciousness that she was improving--that she was growing worthier of +him--that he would perceive it on his return. Her manner was more +thoughtful, more collected--less childish, in short, than it had been. +And yet, with all the stir and flutter of the aroused intellect, the +charm of her strange innocence was not scared away. She rejoiced in the +ancient liberty she had regained of going out and coming back when she +pleased; and as the weather was too cold ever to tempt Simon from his +fireside, except, perhaps, for half-an-hour in the forenoon, so the hours +of dusk, when he least missed her, were those which she chiefly +appropriated for stealing away to the good school-mistress, and growing +wiser and wiser every day in the ways of God and the learning of His +creatures. The schoolmistress was not a brilliant woman. Nor was it +accomplishments of which Fanny stood in need, so much as the opening of +her thoughts and mind by profitable books and rational conversation. +Beautiful as were all her natural feelings, the schoolmistress had now +little difficulty in educating feelings up to the dignity of principles. + +At last, hitherto patient under the absence of one never absent from her +heart, Fanny received from him the letter he had addressed to her two +days before he quitted Beaufort Court;--another letter--a second letter-- +a letter to excuse himself for not coming before--a letter that gave her +an address that asked for a reply. It was a morning of unequalled +delight approaching to transport. And then the excitement of answering +the letter--the pride of showing how she was improved, what an excellent +hand she now wrote! She shut herself up in her room: she did not go out +that day. She placed the paper before her, and, to her astonishment, all +that she had to say vanished from her mind at once. How was she even to +begin? She had always hitherto called him "Brother." Ever since her +conversation with Sarah she felt that she could not call him that name +again for the world--no, never! But what should she call him--what could +she call him? He signed himself "Philip." She knew that was his name. +She thought it a musical name to utter, but to write it! No! some +instinct she could not account for seemed to whisper that it was +improper--presumptuous, to call him "Dear Philip." Had Burns's songs-- +the songs that unthinkingly he had put into her hand, and told her to +read--songs that comprise the most beautiful love-poems in the world--had +they helped to teach her some of the secrets of her own heart? And had +timidity come with knowledge? Who shall say--who guess what passed +within her? Nor did Fanny herself, perhaps, know her own feelings: but +write the words "Dear Philip" she could not. And the whole of that day, +though she thought of nothing else, she could not even get through the +first line to her satisfaction. The next morning she sat down again. It +would be so unkind if she did not answer immediately: she must answer. +She placed his letter before her--she resolutely began. But copy after +copy was made and torn. And Simon wanted her--and Sarah wanted her--and +there were bills to be paid; and dinner was over before her task was +really begun. But after dinner she began in good earnest. + +"How kind in you to write to me" (the difficulty of any name was +dispensed with by adopting none), "and to wish to know about my dear +grandfather! He is much the same, but hardly ever walks out now, and I +have had a good deal of time to myself. I think something will surprise +you, and make you smile, as you used to do at first, when you come back. +You must not be angry with me that I have gone out by myself very often +--every day, indeed. I have been so safe. Nobody has ever offered to be +rude again to Fanny" (the word "Fanny" was carefully scratched out with +a penknife, and me substituted). "But you shall know all when you come. +And are you sure you are well--quite--quite well? Do you never have the +headaches you complained of sometimes? Do say this? Do you walk out- +every day? Is there any pretty churchyard near you now? Whom do you +walk with? + +"I have been so happy in putting the flowers on the two graves. But I +still give yours the prettiest, though the other is so dear to me. I +feel sad when I come to the last, but not when I look at the one I have +looked at so long. Oh, how good you were! But you don't like me to +thank you." + +"This is very stupid!" cried Fanny, suddenly throwing down her pen; "and +I don't think I am improved at it;" and she half cried with vexation. +Suddenly a bright idea crossed her. In the little parlour where the +schoolmistress privately received her, she had seen among the books, and +thought at the time how useful it might be to her if ever she had to +write to Philip, a little volume entitled, _The Complete Letter Writer_. +She knew by the title-page that it contained models for every description +of letter--no doubt it would contain the precise thing that would suit +the present occasion. She started up at the notion. She would go--she +could be back to finish the letter before post-time. She put on her +bonnet--left the letter, in her haste, open on the table--and just +looking into the parlour in her way to the street door, to convince +herself that Simon was asleep, and the wire-guard was on the fire, she +hurried to the kind schoolmistress. + +One of the fogs that in autumn gather sullenly over London and its +suburbs covered the declining day with premature dimness. It grew darker +and darker as she proceeded, but she reached the house in safety. She +spent a quarter of an hour in timidly consulting her friend about all +kinds of letters except the identical one that she intended to write, and +having had it strongly impressed on her mind that if the letter was to a +gentleman at all genteel, she ought to begin "Dear Sir," and end with "I +have the honour to remain;" and that he would be everlastingly offended +if she did not in the address affix "Esquire" to his name (_that_, was a +great discovery),--she carried off the precious volume, and quitted the +house. There was a wall that, bounding the demesnes of the school, ran +for some short distance into the main street. The increasing fog, here, +faintly struggled against the glimmer of a single lamp at some little +distance. Just in this spot, her eye was caught by a dark object in the +road, which she could scarcely perceive to be a carriage, when her hand +was seized, and a voice said in her ear:-- + +"Ah! you will not be so cruel to me, I hope, as you were to my +messenger! I have come myself for you." + +She turned in great alarm, but the darkness prevented her recognising the +face of him who thus accosted her. "Let me go!" she cried,--"let me +go!" + +"Hush! hush! No--no. Come with me. You shall have a house--carriage-- +servants! You shall wear silk gowns and jewels! You shall be a great +lady!" + +As these various temptations succeeded in rapid course each new struggle +of Fanny, a voice from the coach-box said in a low tone,-- + +"Take care, my lord, I see somebody coming--perhaps a policeman!" + +Fanny heard the caution, and screamed for rescue. + +"Is it so?" muttered the molester. And suddenly Fanny felt her voice +checked--her head mantled--her light form lifted from the ground. She +clung--she struggled it was in vain. It was the affair of a moment: she +felt herself borne into the carriage--the door closed--the stranger was +by her side, and his voice said:-- + +"Drive on, Dykeman. Fast! fast!" + +Two or three minutes, which seemed to her terror as ages, elapsed, when +the gag and the mantle were gently removed, and the same voice (she still +could not see her companion) said in a very mild tone:-- + +"Do not alarm yourself; there is no cause,--indeed there is not. I would +not have adopted this plan had there been any other--any gentler one. +But I could not call at your own house--I knew no other where to meet +you. + +"This was the only course left to me--indeed it was. I made myself +acquainted with your movements. Do not blame me, then, for prying into +your footsteps. I watched for you all last night-you did not come out. +I was in despair. At last I find you. Do not be so terrified: I will +not even touch your hand if you do not wish it." + +As he spoke, however, he attempted to touch it, and was repulsed with an +energy that rather disconcerted him. The poor girl recoiled from him +into the farthest corner of that prison in speechless horror--in the +darkest confusion of ideas. She did not weep--she did not sob--but her +trembling seemed to shake the very carriage. The man continued to +address, to expostulate, to pray, to soothe. + +His manner was respectful. His protestations that he would not harm her +for the world were endless. + +"Only just see the home I can give you; for two days--for one day. Only +just hear how rich I can make you and your grandfather, and then if you +wish to leave me, you shall." + +More, much more, to this effect, did he continue to pour forth, without +extracting any sound from Fanny but gasps as for breath, and now and then +a low murmur: + +"Let me go, let me go! My grandfather, my blind grandfather!" + +And finally tears came to her relief, and she sobbed with a passion that +alarmed, and perhaps even touched her companion, cynical and icy as he +was. Meanwhile the carriage seemed to fly. Fast as two horses, +thorough-bred, and almost at full speed, could go, they were whirled +along, till about an hour, or even less, from the time in which she had +been thus captured, the carriage stopped. + +"Are we here already?" said the man, putting his head out of the window. +"Do then as I told you. Not to the front door; to my study." + +In two minutes more the carriage halted again, before a building which +looked white and ghostlike through the mist. The driver dismounted, +opened with a latch-key a window-door, entered for a moment to light the +candles in a solitary room from a fire that blazed on the hearth, +reappeared, and opened the carriage-door. It was with a difficulty for +which they were scarcely prepared that they were enabled to get Fanny +from the carriage. No soft words, no whispered prayers could draw her +forth; and it was with no trifling address, for her companion sought to +be as gentle as the force necessary to employ would allow, that he +disengaged her hands from the window-frame, the lining, the cushions, to +which they clung; and at last bore her into the house. The driver +closed the window again as he retreated, and they were alone. Fanny then +cast a wild, scarce conscious glance over the apartment. It was small +and simply furnished. Opposite to her was an old-fashioned bureau, one +of those quaint, elaborate monuments of Dutch ingenuity, which, during +the present century, the audacious spirit of curiosity-vendors has +transplanted from their native receptacles, to contrast, with grotesque +strangeness, the neat handiwork of Gillow and Seddon. It had a +physiognomy and character of its own--this fantastic foreigner! Inlaid +with mosaics, depicting landscapes and animals; graceless in form and +fashion, but still picturesque, and winning admiration, when more closely +observed, from the patient defiance of all rules of taste which had +formed its cumbrous parts into one profusely ornamented and eccentric +whole. It was the more noticeable from its total want of harmony with +the other appurtenances of the room, which bespoke the tastes of the +plain English squire. Prints of horses and hunts, fishing-rods and +fowling-pieces, carefully suspended, decorated the walls. Not, however, +on this notable stranger from the sluggish land rested the eye of Fanny. +That, in her hurried survey, was arrested only by a portrait placed over +the bureau--the portrait of a female in the bloom of life; a face so +fair, a brow so candid, and eyes so pure, a lip so rich in youth and joy +--that as her look lingered on the features Fanny felt comforted, felt as +if some living protectress were there. The fire burned bright and +merrily; a table, spread as for dinner, was drawn near it. To any other +eye but Fanny's the place would have seemed a picture of English comfort. +At last her looks rested on her companion. He had thrown himself, with a +long sigh, partly of fatigue, partly of satisfaction, on one of the +chairs, and was contemplating her as she thus stood and gazed, with an +expression of mingled curiosity and admiration; she recognised at once +her first, her only persecutor. She recoiled, and covered her face with +her hands. The man approached her:-- + +"Do not hate me, Fanny,--do not turn away. Believe me, though I have +acted thus violently, here all violence will cease. I love you, but I +will not be satisfied till you love me in return. I am not young, and I +am not handsome, but I am rich and great, and I can make those whom I +love happy,--so happy, Fanny!" + +But Fanny had turned away, and was now busily employed in trying to +re-open the door at which she had entered. Failing in this, she suddenly +darted away, opened the inner door, and rushed into the passage with a +loud cry. Her persecutor stifled an oath, and sprung after and arrested +her. He now spoke sternly, and with a smile and a frown at once:-- + +"This is folly;--come back, or you will repent it! I have promised you, +as a gentleman--as a nobleman, if you know what that is--to respect you. +But neither will I myself be trifled with nor insulted. There must be no +screams!" + +His look and his voice awed Fanny in spite of her bewilderment and her +loathing, and she suffered herself passively to be drawn into the room. +He closed and bolted the door. She threw herself on the ground in one +corner, and moaned low but piteously. He looked at her musingly for some +moments, as he stood by the fire, and at last went to the door, opened +it, and called "Harriet" in a low voice. Presently a young woman, of +about thirty, appeared, neatly but plainly dressed, and of a countenance +that, if not very winning, might certainly be called very handsome. He +drew her aside for a few moments, and a whispered conference was +exchanged. He then walked gravely up to Fanny "My young friend," said +he, "I see my presence is too much for you this evening. This young +woman will attend you--will get you all you want. She can tell you, too, +that I am not the terrible sort of person you seem to suppose. I shall +see you to-morrow." So saying, he turned on his heel and walked out. + +Fanny felt something like liberty, something like joy, again. She rose, +and looked so pleadingly, so earnestly, so intently into the woman's +face, that Harriet turned away her bold eyes abashed; and at this moment +Dykeman himself looked into the room. + +"You are to bring us in dinner here yourself, uncle; and then go to my +lord in the drawing-room." + +Dykeman looked pleased, and vanished. Then Harriet came up and took +Fanny's hand, and said, kindly,-- + +"Don't be frightened. I assure you, half the girls in London would give +I don't know what to be in your place. My lord never will force you to +do anything you don't like--it's not his way; and he's the kindest and +best man,--and so rich; he does not know what to do with his money!" + +To all this Fanny made but one answer,--she threw herself suddenly upon +the woman's breast, and sobbed out: "My grandfather is blind, he cannot +do without me--he will die--die. Have you nobody you love, too? Let me +go--let me out! What can they want with me?--I never did harm to any +one." + +"And no one will harm you;--I swear it!" said Harriet, earnestly. "I +see you don't know my lord. But here's the dinner; come, and take a bit +of something, and a glass of wine." + +Fanny could not touch anything except a glass of water, and that nearly +choked her. But at last, as she recovered her senses, the absence of her +tormentor--the presence of a woman--the solemn assurances of Harriet +that, if she did not like to stay there, after a day or two, she should +go back, tranquillised her in some measure. She did not heed the artful +and lengthened eulogiums that the she-tempter then proceeded to pour +forth upon the virtues, and the love, and the generosity, and, above all, +the money of my lord. She only kept repeating to herself, "I shall go +back in a day or two." At length, Harriet, having eaten and drunk as +much as she could by her single self, and growing wearied with efforts +from which so little resulted, proposed to Fanny to retire to rest. She +opened a door to the right of the fireplace, and lighted her up a winding +staircase to a pretty and comfortable chamber, where she offered to help +her to undress. Fanny's complete innocence, and her utter ignorance of +the precise nature of the danger that awaited her, though she fancied it +must be very great and very awful, prevented her quite comprehending all +that Harriet meant to convey by her solemn assurances that she should not +be disturbed. But she understood, at least, that she was not to see her +hateful gaoler till the next morning; and when Harriet, wishing her "good +night," showed her a bolt to her door, she was less terrified at the +thought of being alone in that strange place. She listened till +Harriet's footsteps had died away, and then, with a beating heart, tried +to open the door; it was locked from without. She sighed heavily. The +window?--alas! when she had removed the shutter, there was another one +barred from without, which precluded all hope there; she had no help for +it but to bolt her door, stand forlorn and amazed at her own condition, +and, at last, falling on her knees, to pray, in her own simple fashion, +which since her recent visits to the schoolmistress had become more +intelligent and earnest, to Him from whom no bolts and no bars can +exclude the voice of the human heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + "In te omnis domus inclinata recumbit."--VIRGIL. + + [On thee the whole house rests confidingly.] + +Lord Lilburne, seated before a tray in the drawing-room, was finishing +his own solitary dinner, and Dykeman was standing close behind him, +nervous and agitated. The confidence of many years between the master +and the servant--the peculiar mind of Lilburne, which excluded him from +all friendship with his own equals--had established between the two the +kind of intimacy so common with the noble and the valet of the old French +_regime_, and indeed, in much Lilburne more resembled the men of that day +and land, than he did the nobler and statelier being which belongs to our +own. But to the end of time, whatever is at once vicious, polished, and +intellectual, will have a common likeness. + +"But, my lord," said Dykeman, "just reflect. This girl is so well known +in the place; she will be sure to be missed; and if any violence is done +to her, it's a capital crime, my lord--a capital crime. I know they +can't hang a great lord like you, but all concerned in it may----" + +Lord Lilburne interrupted the speaker by, "Give me some wine and hold +your tongue!" Then, when he had emptied his glass, he drew himself +nearer to the fire, warmed his hands, mused a moment, and turned round to +his confidant:-- + +"Dykeman," said he, "though you're an ass and a coward, and you don't +deserve that I should be so condescending, I will relieve your fears at +once. I know the law better than you can, for my whole life has been +spent in doing exactly as I please, without ever putting myself in the +power of LAW, which interferes with the pleasures of other men. You are +right in saying violence would be a capital crime. Now the difference +between vice and crime is this: Vice is what parsons write sermons +against, Crime is what we make laws against. I never committed a crime +in all my life,--at an age between fifty and sixty--I am not going to +begin. Vices are safe things; I may have my vices like other men: but +crimes are dangerous things--illegal things--things to be carefully +avoided. Look you" (and here the speaker, fixing his puzzled listener +with his eye, broke into a grin of sublime mockery), "let me suppose you +to be the World--that cringing valet of valets, the WORLD! I should say +to you this, 'My dear World, you and I understand each other well,--we +are made for each other,--I never come in your way, nor you in mine. If +I get drunk every day in my own room, that's vice, you can't touch me; if +I take an extra glass for the first time in my life, and knock down the +watchman, that's a crime which, if I am rich, costs me one pound--perhaps +five pounds; if I am poor, sends me to the treadmill. If I break the +hearts of five hundred old fathers, by buying with gold or flattery the +embraces of five hundred young daughters, that's vice,--your servant, Mr. +World! If one termagant wench scratches my face, makes a noise, and goes +brazen-faced to the Old Bailey to swear to her shame, why that's crime, +and my friend, Mr. World, pulls a hemp-rope out of his pocket.' Now, do +you understand? Yes, I repeat," he added, with a change of voice, "I +never committed a crime in my life,--I have never even been accused of +one,--never had an action of _crim. con._--of seduction against me. I +know how to manage such matters better. I was forced to carry off this +girl, because I had no other means of courting her. To court her is all +I mean to do now. I am perfectly aware that an action for violence, as +you call it, would be the more disagreeable, because of the very weakness +of intellect which the girl is said to possess, and of which report I +don't believe a word. I shall most certainly avoid even the remotest +appearance that could be so construed. It is for that reason that no one +in the house shall attend the girl except yourself and your niece. Your +niece I can depend on, I know; I have been kind to her; I have got her a +good husband; I shall get her husband a good place;--I shall be godfather +to her first child. To be sure, the other servants will know there's a +lady in the house, but to that they are accustomed; I don't set up for a +Joseph. They need know no more, unless you choose to blab it out. Well, +then, supposing that at the end of a few days, more or less, without any +rudeness on my part, a young woman, after seeing a few jewels, and fine +dresses, and a pretty house, and being made very comfortable, and being +convinced that her grandfather shall be taken care of without her slaving +herself to death, chooses of her own accord to live with me, where's the +crime, and who can interfere with it?" + +"Certainly, my lord, that alters the case," said Dykeman, considerably +relieved. "But still," he added, anxiously, "if the inquiry is made,--if +before all this is settled, it is found out where she is?" + +"Why then no harm will be done--no violence will be committed. Her +grandfather,--drivelling and a miser, you say--can be appeased by a +little money, and it will be nobody's business, and no case can be made +of it. Tush! man! I always look before I leap! People in this world +are not so charitable as you suppose. What more natural than that a poor +and pretty girl--not as wise as Queen Elizabeth--should be tempted to pay +a visit to a rich lover! + +"All they can say of the lover is, that he is a very gay man or a very bad +man, and that's saying nothing new of me. But don't think it will be +found out. Just get me that stool; this has been a very troublesome +piece of business--rather tried me. I am not so young as I was. Yes, +Dykeman, something which that Frenchman Vaudemont, or Vautrien, or +whatever his name is, said to me once, has a certain degree of truth. +I felt it in the last fit of the gout, when my pretty niece was smoothing +my pillows. A nurse, as we grow older, may be of use to one. I wish to +make this girl like me, or be grateful to me. I am meditating a longer +and more serious attachment than usual,--a companion!" + +"A companion, my lord, in that poor creature!--so ignorant--so +uneducated!" + +"So much the better. This world palls upon me," said Lilburne, almost +gloomily. "I grow sick of the miserable quackeries--of the piteous +conceits that men, women, and children call 'knowledge,' I wish to catch +a glimpse of nature before I die. This creature interests me, and that +is something in this life. Clear those things away, and leave me." + +"Ay!" muttered Lilburne, as he bent over the fire alone, "when I first +heard that that girl was the granddaughter of Simon Gawtrey, and, +therefore, the child of the man whom I am to thank that I am a cripple, +I felt as if love to her were a part of that hate which I owe to him; a +segment in the circle of my vengeance. But now, poor child! + +"I forget all this. I feel for her, not passion, but what I never felt +before, affection. I feel that if I had such a child, I could understand +what men mean when they talk of the tenderness of a father. I have not +one impure thought for that girl--not one. But I would give thousands if +she could love me. Strange! strange! in all this I do not recognise +myself!" + +Lord Lilburne retired to rest betimes that night; he slept sound; rose +refreshed at an earlier hour than usual; and what he considered a fit of +vapours of the previous night was passed away. He looked with eagerness +to an interview with Fanny. Proud of his intellect, pleased in any of +those sinister exercises of it which the code and habits of his life so +long permitted to him, he regarded the conquest of his fair adversary +with the interest of a scientific game. Harriet went to Fanny's room to +prepare her to receive her host; and Lord Lilburne now resolved to make +his own visit the less unwelcome by reserving for his especial gift some +showy, if not valuable, trinkets, which for similar purposes never failed +the depositories of the villa he had purchased for his pleasures. He, +recollected that these gewgaws were placed in the bureau in the study; in +which, as having a lock of foreign and intricate workmanship, he usually +kept whatever might tempt cupidity in those frequent absences when the +house was left guarded but by two women servants. Finding that Fanny had +not yet quitted her own chamber, while Harriet went up to attend and +reason with her, he himself limped into the study below, unlocked the +bureau, and was searching in the drawers, when he heard the voice of +Fanny above, raised a little as if in remonstrance or entreaty; and he +paused to listen. He could not, however, distinguish what was said; and +in the meanwhile, without attending much to what he was about, his bands +were still employed in opening and shutting the drawers, passing through +the pigeon-holes, and feeling for a topaz brooch, which he thought could +not fail of pleasing the unsophisticated eyes of Fanny. One of the +recesses was deeper than the rest; he fancied the brooch was there; he +stretched his hand into the recess; and, as the room was partially +darkened by the lower shutters from without, which were still unclosed to +prevent any attempted escape of his captive, he had only the sense of +touch to depend on; not finding the brooch, he stretched on till he came +to the extremity of the recess, and was suddenly sensible of a sharp +pain; the flesh seemed caught as in a trap; he drew back his finger with +sudden force and a half-suppressed exclamation, and he perceived the +bottom or floor of the pigeon-hole recede, as if sliding back. His +curiosity was aroused; he again felt warily and cautiously, and +discovered a very slight inequality and roughness at the extremity of the +recess. He was aware instantly that there was some secret spring; he +pressed with some force on the spot, and he felt the board give way; he +pushed it back towards him, and it slid suddenly with a whirring noise, +and left a cavity below exposed to his sight. He peered in, and drew +forth a paper; he opened it at first carelessly, for he was still trying +to listen to Fanny. His eye ran rapidly over a few preliminary lines +till it rested on what follows: + +"Marriage. The year 18-- + +"No. 83, page 21. + +"Philip Beaufort, of this parish of A-----, and Catherine Morton, of the +parish of St. Botolph, Aldgate, London, were married in this church by +banns, this 12th day of November, in the year one thousand eight hundred +and ----' by me, + "CALEB PRICE, Vicar. + +"This marriage was solemnised between us, + "PHILIP BEAUFORT. + "CATHERINE MORTON. + +"In the presence of + "DAVID APREECE. + "WILLIAM SMITH. + +"The above is a true copy taken from the registry of marriages, in A----- +parish, this 19th day of March, 18--, by me, + "MORGAN JONES, Curate of C-------." + + + [This is according to the form customary at the date at which the + copy was made. There has since been an alteration.] + + +Lord Lilburne again cast his eye over the lines prefixed to this +startling document, which, being those written at Caleb's desire, by Mr. +Jones to Philip Beaufort, we need not here transcribe to the reader. At +that instant Harriet descended the stairs, and came into the room; she +crept up on tiptoe to Lilburne, and whispered,-- + +"She is coming down, I think; she does not know you are here." + +"Very well--go!" said Lord Lilburne. And scarce had Harriet left the +room, when a carriage drove furiously to the door, and Robert Beaufort +rushed into the study. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + "Gone, and none know it. + + How now?--What news, what hopes and steps discovered!" + BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER: _The Pilgrim_. + +When Philip arrived at his lodgings in town it was very late, but he +still found Liancourt waiting the chance of his arrival. The Frenchman +was full of his own schemes and projects. He was a man of high repute +and connections; negotiations for his recall to Paris had been entered +into; he was divided between a Quixotic loyalty and a rational prudence; +he brought his doubts to Vaudemont. Occupied as he was with thoughts of +so important and personal a nature, Philip could yet listen patiently to +his friend, and weigh with him the pros and cons. And after having +mutually agreed that loyalty and prudence would both be best consulted by +waiting a little, to see if the nation, as the Carlists yet fondly +trusted, would soon, after its first fever, offer once more the throne +and the purple to the descendant of St. Louis, Liancourt, as he lighted +his cigar to walk home, said, "A thousand thanks to you, my dear friend: +and how have you enjoyed yourself in your visit? I am not surprised or +jealous that Lilburne did not invite me, as I do not play at cards, and +as I have said some sharp things to him!" + +"I fancy I shall have the same disqualifications for another invitation," +said Vaudemont, with a severe smile. "I may have much to disclose to you +in a few days. At present my news is still unripe. And have you seen +anything of Lilburne? He left us some days since. Is he in London?" +"Yes; I was riding with our friend Henri, who wished to try a new horse +off the stones, a little way into the country yesterday. We went through +------ and H----. Pretty places, those. Do you know them?" + +"Yes; I know H----." + +"And just at dusk, as we were spurring back to town, whom should I see +walking on the path of the high-road but Lord Lilburne himself! I could +hardly believe my eyes. I stopped, and, after asking him about you, I +could not help expressing my surprise to see him on foot at such a place. +You know the man's sneer. 'A Frenchman so gallant as Monsieur de +Liancourt,' said he, 'need not be surprised at much greater miracles; the +iron moves to the magnet: I have a little adventure here. Pardon me if I +ask you to ride on.' Of course I wished him good day; and a little +farther up the road I saw a dark plain chariot, no coronet, no arms, no +footman only the man on the box, but the beauty of the horses assured me +it must belong to Lilburne. Can you conceive such absurdity in a man of +that age--and a very clever fellow too? Yet, how is it that one does not +ridicule it in Lilburne, as one would in another man between fifty and +sixty?" + +"Because one does not ridicule,--one loathes-him." + +"No; that's not it. The fact is that one can't fancy Lilburne old. His +manner is young--his eye is young. I never saw any one with so much +vitality. 'The bad heart and the good digestion'--the twin secrets for +wearing well, eh!" + +"Where did you meet him--not near H----?" + +"Yes; close by. Why? Have you any adventure there too? Nay, forgive +me; it was but a jest. Good night!" + +Vaudemont fell into an uneasy reverie: he could not divine exactly why +he should be alarmed; but he was alarmed at Lilburne being in the +neighbourhood of H----. It was the foot of the profane violating the +sanctuary. An undefined thrill shot through him, as his mind coupled +together the associations of Lilburne and Fanny; but there was no ground +for forebodings. Fanny did not stir out alone. An adventure, too--pooh! +Lord Lilburne must be awaiting a willing and voluntary appointment, most +probably from some one of the fair but decorous frailties of London. +Lord Lilburne's more recent conquests were said to be among those of his +own rank; suburbs are useful for such assignations. Any other thought +was too horrible to be contemplated. He glanced to the clock; it was +three in the morning. He would go to H---- early, even before he sought +out Mr. William Smith. With that resolution, and even his hardy frame +worn out by the excitement of the day, he threw himself on his bed and +fell asleep. + +He did not wake till near nine, and had just dressed, and hurried over +his abstemious breakfast, when the servant of the house came to tell him +that an old woman, apparently in great agitation, wished to see him. His +head was still full of witnesses and lawsuits; and he was vaguely +expecting some visitor connected with his primary objects, when Sarah +broke into the room. She cast a hurried, suspicious look round her, and +then throwing herself on her knees to him, "Oh!" she cried, "if you have +taken that poor young thing away, God forgive you. Let her come back +again. It shall be all hushed up. Don't ruin her! don't, that's a dear +good gentleman!" + +"Speak plainly, woman--what do you mean?" cried Philip, turning pale. + +A very few words sufficed for an explanation: Fanny's disappearance the +previous night; the alarm of Sarah at her non-return; the apathy of old +Simon, who did not comprehend what had happened, and quietly went to bed; +the search Sarah had made during half the night; the intelligence she had +picked up, that the policeman, going his rounds, had heard a female +shriek near the school; but that all he could perceive through the mist +was a carriage driving rapidly past him; Sarah's suspicions of Vaudemont +confirmed in the morning, when, entering Fanny's room, she perceived the +poor girl's unfinished letter with his own, the clue to his address that +the letter gave her; all this, ere she well understood what she herself +was talking about,--Vaudemont's alarm seized, and the reflection of a +moment construed: the carriage; Lilburne seen lurking in the +neighbourhood the previous day; the former attempt;--all flashed on him +with an intolerable glare. While Sarah was yet speaking, he rushed from +the house, he flew to Lord Lilburne's in Park Lane; he composed his +manner, he inquired calmly. His lordship had slept from home; he was, +they believed, at Fernside: Fernside! H---- was on the direct way to +that villa. Scarcely ten minutes had elapsed since he heard the story +ere he was on the road, with such speed as the promise of a guinea a mile +could extract from the spurs of a young post-boy applied to the flanks of +London post-horses. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + "Ex humili magna ad fastigia rerum + Extollit."--JUVENAL. + + [Fortune raises men from low estate to the very + summit of prosperity.] + +When Harriet had quitted Fanny, the waiting-woman, craftily wishing to +lure her into Lilburne's presence, had told her that the room below was +empty; and the captive's mind naturally and instantly seized on the +thought of escape. After a brief breathing pause, she crept noiselessly +down the stairs, and gently opened the door; and at the very instant she +did so, Robert Beaufort entered from the other door; she drew back in +terror, when, what was her astonishment in hearing a name uttered that +spell-bound her--the last name she could have expected to hear; for +Lilburne, the instant he saw Beaufort, pale, haggard, agitated, rush into +the room, and bang the door after him, could only suppose that something +of extraordinary moment had occurred with regard to the dreaded guest, +and cried: + +"You come about Vaudemont! Something has happened about Vaudemont! +about Philip! What is it? Calm yourself." + +Fanny, as the name was thus abruptly uttered, actually thrust her face +through the door; but she again drew back, and, all her senses +preternaturally quickened at that name, while she held the door almost +closed, listened with her whole soul in her ears. + +The faces of both the men were turned from her, and her partial entry had +not been perceived. + +"Yes," said Robert Beaufort, leaning his weight, as if ready to sink to +the ground, upon Lilburne's shoulder, "Yes; Vaudemont, or Philip, for +they are one,--yes, it is about that man I have come to consult you. +Arthur has arrived." + +"Well?" + +"And Arthur has seen the wretch who visited us, and the rascal's manner +has so imposed on him, so convinced him that Philip is the heir to all +our property, that he has come over-ill, ill--I fear" (added Beaufort, in +a hollow voice), "dying, to--to--" + +"To guard against their machinations?" + +"No, no, no--to say that if such be the case, neither honour nor +conscience will allow us to resist his rights. He is so obstinate in +this matter; his nerves so ill bear reasoning and contradiction, that I +know not what to do--" + +"Take breath-go on." + +"Well, it seems that this man found out Arthur almost as soon as my son +arrived at Paris--that he has persuaded Arthur that he has it in his +power to prove the marriage--that he pretended to be very impatient for a +decision--that Arthur, in order to gain time to see me, affected +irresolution--took him to Boulogne, for the rascal does not dare to +return to England--left him there; and now comes back, my own son, as my +worst enemy, to conspire against me for my property! I could not have +kept my temper if I had stayed. But that's not all--that's not the +worst: Vaudemont left me suddenly in the morning on the receipt of a +letter. In taking leave of Camilla he let fall hints which fill me with +fear. Well, I inquired his movements as I came along; he had stopped at +D----, had been closeted for above an hour with a man whose name the +landlord of the inn knew, for it was on his carpet-bag--the name was +Barlow. You remember the advertisements! Good Heavens! what is to be +done? I would not do anything unhandsome or dishonest. But there never +was a marriage. I never will believe there was a marriage--never!" + +"There was a marriage, Robert Beaufort," said Lord Lilburne, almost +enjoying the torture he was about to inflict; "and I hold here a paper +that Philip Vaudemont--for so we will yet call him--would give his right +hand to clutch for a moment. I have but just found it in a secret cavity +in that bureau. Robert, on this paper may depend the fate, the fortune, +the prosperity, the greatness of Philip Vaudemont;--or his poverty, his +exile, his ruin. See!" + +Robert Beaufort glanced over the paper held out to him--dropped it on the +floor--and staggered to a seat. Lilburne coolly replaced the document in +the bureau, and, limping to his brother-in-law, said with a smile,-- + +"But the paper is in my possession--I will not destroy it. No; I have no +right to destroy it. Besides, it would be a crime; but if I give it to +you, you can do with it as you please." + +"O Lilburne, spare me--spare me. I meant to be an honest man. I--I--" +And Robert Beaufort sobbed. Lilburne looked at him in scornful surprise. + +"Do not fear that I shall ever think worse of you; and who else will know +it? Do not fear me. No;--I, too, have reasons to hate and to fear this +Philip Vaudemont; for Vaudemont shall be his name, and not Beaufort, in +spite of fifty such scraps of paper! He has known a man--my worst foe-- +he has secrets of mine--of my past-perhaps of my present: but I laugh at +his knowledge while he is a wandering adventurer;--I should tremble at +that knowledge if he could thunder it out to the world as Philip Beaufort +of Beaufort Court! There, I am candid with you. Now hear my plan. +Prove to Arthur that his visitor is a convicted felon, by sending the +officers of justice after him instantly--off with him again to the +Settlements. Defy a single witness--entrap Vaudemont back to France and +prove him (I think I will prove him such--I think so--with a little money +and a little pains)--prove him the accomplice of William Gawtrey, a +coiner and a murderer! Pshaw! take yon paper. Do with it as you will-- +keep it-give it to Arthur--let Philip Vaudemont have it, and Philip +Vaudemont will be rich and great, the happiest man between earth and +paradise! On the other hand, come and tell me that you have lost it, or +that I never gave you such a paper, or that no such paper ever existed; +and Philip Vaudemont may live a pauper, and die, perhaps, a slave at the +galleys! Lose it, I say,--lose it,--and advise with me upon the rest." + +Horror-struck, bewildered, the weak man gazed upon the calm face of the +Master-villain, as the scholar of the old fables might have gazed on the +fiend who put before him worldly prosperity here and the loss of his soul +hereafter. He had never hitherto regarded Lilburne in his true light. +He was appalled by the black heart that lay bare before him. + +"I can't destroy it--I can't," he faltered out; "and if I did, out of +love for Arthur,--don't talk of galleys,--of vengeance--I--I--" + +"The arrears of the rents you have enjoyed will send you to gaol for your +life. No, no; _don't_ destroy the paper." + +Beaufort rose with a desperate effort; he moved to the bureau. Fanny's +heart was on her lips;--of this long conference she had understood only +the one broad point on which Lilburne had insisted with an emphasis that +could have enlightened an infant; and he looked on Beaufort as an infant +then--_On that paper rested Philip Vaudemont's fate--happiness if saved, +ruin if destroyed; Philip--her Philip!_ And Philip himself had said to +her once--when had she ever forgotten his words? and now how those words +flashed across her--Philip himself had said to her once, "Upon a scrap of +paper, if I could but find it, may depend my whole fortune, my whole +happiness, all that I care for in life."--Robert Beaufort moved to the +bureau--he seized the document--he looked over it again, hurriedly, and +ere Lilburne, who by no means wished to have it destroyed in his own +presence, was aware of his intention--he hastened with tottering steps to +the hearth-averted his eyes, and cast it on the fire. At that instant +something white--he scarce knew what, it seemed to him as a spirit, as a +ghost--darted by him, and snatched the paper, as yet uninjured, from the +embers! There was a pause for the hundredth part of a moment:--a +gurgling sound of astonishment and horror from Beaufort--an exclamation +from Lilburne--a laugh from Fanny, as, her eyes flashing light, with a +proud dilation of stature, with the paper clasped tightly to her bosom, +she turned her looks of triumph from one to the other. The two men were +both too amazed, at the instant, for rapid measures. But Lilburne, +recovering himself first, hastened to her; she eluded his grasp--she made +towards the door to the passage; when Lilburne, seriously alarmed, seized +her arm;-- + +"Foolish child!--give me that paper!" + +"Never but with my life!" And Fanny's cry for help rang through the +house. + +"Then--" the speech died on his lips, for at that instant a rapid stride +was heard without--a momentary scuffle--voices in altercation;--the door +gave way as if a battering ram had forced it;--not so much thrown forward +as actually hurled into the room, the body of Dykeman fell heavily, like +a dead man's, at the very feet of Lord Lilburne--and Philip Vaudemont +stood in the doorway! + +The grasp of Lilburne on Fanny's arm relaxed, and the girl, with one +bound, sprung to Philip's breast. "Here, here!" she cried, "take it-- +take it!" and she thrust the paper into his hand. "Don't let them have +it--read it--see it--never mind me!" But Philip, though his hand +unconsciously closed on the precious document, did mind Fanny; and in +that moment her cause was the only one in the world to him. + +"Foul villain!" he said, as he strode to Lilburne, while Fanny still +clung to his breast: "Speak!--speak!--is--she--is she?--man--man, speak! +--you know what I would say!--She is the child of your own daughter--the +grandchild of that Mary whom you dishonoured--the child of the woman whom +William Gawtrey saved from pollution! Before he died, Gawtrey commended +her to my care!--O God of Heaven!--speak!--I am not too late!" + +The manner, the words, the face of Philip left Lilburne terror-stricken +with conviction. But the man's crafty ability, debased as it was, +triumphed even over remorse for the dread guilt meditated,--over +gratitude for the dread guilt spared. He glanced at Beaufort--at +Dykeman, who now, slowly recovering, gazed at him with eyes that seemed +starting from their sockets; and lastly fixed his look on Philip himself. +There were three witnesses--presence of mind was his great attribute. + +"And if, Monsieur de Vaudemont, I knew, or, at least, had the firmest +persuasion that Fanny was my grandchild, what then? Why else should she +be here?--Pooh, sir! I am an old man." + +Philip recoiled a step in wonder; his plain sense was baffled by the calm +lie. He looked down at Fanny, who, comprehending nothing of what was +spoken, for all her faculties, even her very sense of sight and hearing, +were absorbed in her impatient anxiety for him, cried out: + +"No harm has come to Fanny--none: only frightened. Read!--Read!--Save +that paper!--You know what you once said about a mere scrap of paper! +Come away! Come!" + +He did now cast his eyes on the paper he held. That was an awful moment +for Robert Beaufort--even for Lilburne! To snatch the fatal document +from that gripe! They would as soon have snatched it from a tiger! He +lifted his eyes--they rested on his mother's picture! Her lips smiled on +him! He turned to Beaufort in a state of emotion too exulting, too blest +for vulgar vengeance--for vulgar triumph--almost for words. + +"Look yonder, Robert Beaufort--look!" and he pointed to the picture. +"Her name is spotless! I stand again beneath a roof that was my +father's,--the Heir of Beaufort! We shall meet before the justice of our +country. For you, Lord Lilburne, I will believe you: it is too horrible +to doubt even your intentions. If wrong had chanced to her, I would have +rent you where you stand, limb from limb. And thank her",--(for Lilburne +recovered at this language the daring of his youth, before calculation, +indolence, and excess had dulled the edge of his nerves; and, unawed by +the height, and manhood, and strength of his menacer, stalked haughtily +up to him)--"and thank your relationship to her," said Philip, sinking +his voice into a whisper, "that I do not brand you as a pilferer and a +cheat! Hush, knave!--hush, pupil of George Gawtrey!--there are no duels +for me but with men of honour!" + +Lilburne now turned white, and the big word stuck in his throat. In +another instant Fanny and her guardian had quitted the house. + +"Dykeman," said Lord Lilburne after a long silence, "I shall ask you +another time how you came to admit that impertinent person. At present, +go and order breakfast for Mr. Beaufort." + +As soon as Dykeman, more astounded, perhaps, by his lord's coolness than +even by the preceding circumstances, had left the study, Lilburne came up +to Beaufort,--who seemed absolutely stricken as if by palsy,--and +touching him impatiently and rudely, said,-- + +"'Sdeath, man!--rouse yourself! There is not a moment to be lost! I +have already decided on what you are to do. This paper is not worth a +rush, unless the curate who examined it will depose to that fact. He is +a curate--a Welsh curate;--you are yet Mr. Beaufort, a rich and a great +man. The curate, properly managed, may depose to the contrary; and then +we will indict them all for forgery and conspiracy. At the worst, you +can, no doubt, get the parson to forget all about it--to stay away. His +address was on the certificate: + +"--C-----. Go yourself into Wales without an instant's delay-- Then, +having arranged with Mr. Jones, hurry back, cross to Boulogne, and buy +this convict and his witnesses, buy them! That, now, is the only thing. +Quick! quick!--quick! Zounds, man! if it were my affair, my estate, I +would not care a pin for that fragment of paper; I should rather rejoice +at it. I see how it could be turned against them! Go!" + +"No, no; I am not equal to it! Will you manage it? will you? Half my +estate!--all! Take it: but save--" + +"Tut!" interrupted Lord Lilburne, in great disdain. "I am as rich as I +want to be. Money does not bribe me. I manage this! I! Lord Lilburne. +I! Why, if found out, it is subornation of witnesses. It is exposure-- +it is dishonour--it is ruin. What then? You should take the risk--for +you must meet ruin if you do not. I cannot. I have nothing to gain!" + +"I dare not!-I dare not!" murmured Beaufort, quite spirit-broken. +"Subornation, dishonour, exposure!--and I, so respectable--my character! +--and my son against me, too!--my son, in whom I lived again! No, no; +let them take all! Let them take it! Ha! ha! let them take it! Good- +day to you." + +"Where are you going?" + +"I shall consult Mr. Blackwell, and I'll let you know." And Beaufort +walked tremulously back to his carriage. "Go to his lawyer!" growled +Lilburne. "Yes, if his lawyer can help him to defraud men lawfully, +he'll defraud them fast enough. That will be the respectable way of +doing it! Um!--This may be an ugly business for me--the paper found +here--if the girl can depose to what she heard, and she must have heard +something.--No, I think the laws of real property will hardly allow her +evidence; and if they do--Um!--My granddaughter--is it possible!--And +Gawtrey rescued her mother, my child, from her own mother's vices! I +thought my liking to that girl different from any other I have ever felt: +it was pure--it _was!_--it was pity--affection. And I must never see her +again--must forget the whole thing! And I sin growing old--and I am +childless--and alone!" He paused, almost with a groan: and then the +expression of his face changing to rage, he cried out, "The man +threatened me, and I was a coward! What to do?--Nothing! The defensive +is my line. I shall play no more.--I attack no one. Who will accuse +Lord Lilburne? Still, Robert is a fool. I must not leave him to +himself. Ho! there! Dykeman!--the carriage! I shall go to London." + +Fortunate, no doubt, it was for Philip that Mr. Beaufort was not Lord +Lilburne. For all history teaches us--public and private history-- +conquerors--statesmen--sharp hypocrites and brave designers--yes, they +all teach us how mighty one man of great intellect and no scruple is +against the justice of millions! The One Man moves--the Mass is inert. +Justice sits on a throne. Roguery never rests,--Activity is the lever of +Archimedes. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + "Quam inulta injusta ac prava fiunt moribus."--TULL. + + [How many unjust and vicious actions are perpetrated + under the name of morals.] + + "Volat ambiguis + Mobilis alis Hera."--SENECA. + + [The hour flies moving with doubtful wings.] + + +Mr. Robert Beaufort sought Mr. Blackwell, and long, rambling, and +disjointed was his narrative. Mr. Blackwell, after some consideration, +proposed to _set about doing_ the very things that Lilburne had proposed +at once to do. But the lawyer expressed himself legally and covertly, so +that it did not seem to the sober sense of Mr. Beaufort at all the same +plan. He was not the least alarmed at what Mr. Blackwell proposed, +though so shocked at what Lilburne dictated. Blackwell would go the next +day into Wales--he would find out Mr. Jones--he would sound him! Nothing +was more common with people of the nicest honour, than just to get a +witness out of the way! Done in election petitions, for instance, every +day. + +"True," said Mr. Beaufort, much relieved. + +Then, after having done that, Mr. Blackwell would return to town, and +cross over to Boulogne to see this very impudent person whom Arthur +(young men were so apt to be taken in!) had actually believed. He had no +doubt he could settle it all. Robert Beaufort returned to Berkeley +Square actually in spirits. There he found Lilburne, who, on reflection, +seeing that Blackwell was at all events more up to the business than his +brother, assented to the propriety of the arrangement. + +Mr. Blackwell accordingly did set off the next day. _That next_ day, +perhaps, made all the difference. Within two hours from his gaining the +document so important, Philip, without any subtler exertion of intellect +than the decision of a plain, bold sense, had already forestalled both +the peer and the lawyer. He had sent down Mr. Barlow's head clerk to his +master in Wales with the document, and a short account of the manner in +which it had been discovered. And fortunate, indeed, was it that the +copy had been found; for all the inquiries of Mr. Barlow at A---- had +failed, and probably would have failed, without such a clue, in fastening +upon any one probable person to have officiated as Caleb Price's +amanuensis. The sixteen hours' start Mr. Barlow gained over Blackwell +enabled the former to see Mr. Jones--to show him his own handwriting-- +to get a written and witnessed attestation from which the curate, however +poor, and however tempted, could never well have escaped (even had he +been dishonest, which he was not), of his perfect recollection of the +fact of making an extract from the registry at Caleb's desire, though he +owned he had quite forgotten the names he extracted till they were again +placed before him. Barlow took care to arouse Mr. Jones's interest in +the case--quitted Wales--hastened over to Boulogne--saw Captain Smith, +and without bribes, without threats, but by plainly proving to that +worthy person that he could not return to England nor see his brother +without being immediately arrested; that his brother's evidence was +already pledged on the side of truth; and that by the acquisition of new +testimony there could be no doubt that the suit would be successful--he +diverted the captain from all disposition towards perfidy, convinced him +on which side his interest lay, and saw him return to Paris, where very +shortly afterwards he disappeared for ever from this world, being forced +into a duel, much against his will (with a Frenchman whom he had +attempted to defraud), and shot through the lungs. Thus verifying a +favourite maxim of Lord Lilburne's, viz. that it does not do, in the long +run, for little men to play the Great Game! + +On the same day that Blackwell returned, frustrated in his half-and-half +attempts to corrupt Mr. Jones, and not having been able even to discover +Mr. Smith, Mr. Robert Beaufort received a notice of an Action for +Ejectment to be brought by Philip Beaufort at the next Assizes. And, to +add to his afflictions, Arthur, whom he had hitherto endeavoured to amuse +by a sort of ambiguous shilly-shally correspondence, became so +alarmingly worse, that his mother brought him up to town for advice. +Lord Lilburne was, of course, sent for; and on learning all, his counsel +was prompt. + +"I told you before that this man loves your daughter. See if you can +effect a compromise. The lawsuit will be ugly, and probably ruinous. He +has a right to claim six years' arrears--that is above L100,000. Make +yourself his father-in-law, and me his uncle-in-law; and, since we can't +kill the wasp, we may at least soften the venom of his sting." + +Beaufort, still perplexed, irresolute, sought his son; and, for the first +time, spoke to him frankly--that is, frankly for Robert Beaufort! He +owned that the copy of the register had been found by Lilburne in a +secret drawer. He made the best of the story Lilburne himself furnished +him with (adhering, of course, to the assertion uttered or insinuated to +Philip) in regard to Fanny's abduction and interposition; he said nothing +of his attempt to destroy the paper. Why should he? By admitting the +copy in court--if so advised--he could get rid of Fanny's evidence +altogether; even without such concession, her evidence might possibly be +objected to or eluded. He confessed that he feared the witness who +copied the register and the witness to the marriage were alive. And then +he talked pathetically of his desire to do what was right, his dread of +slander and misinterpretation. He said nothing of Sidney, and his belief +that Sidney and Charles Spencer were the same; because, if his daughter +were to be the instrument for effecting a compromise, it was clear that +her engagement with Spencer must be cancelled and concealed. And luckily +Arthur's illness and Camilla's timidity, joined now to her father's +injunctions not to excite Arthur in his present state with any additional +causes of anxiety, prevented the confidence that might otherwise have +ensued between the brother and sister. And Camilla, indeed, had no heart +for such a conference. How, when she looked on Arthur's glassy eye, and +listened to his hectic cough, could she talk to him of love and marriage? +As to the automaton, Mrs. Beaufort, Robert made sure of her discretion. + +Arthur listened attentively to his father's communication; and the result +of that interview was the following letter from Arthur to his cousin: + +"I write to you without fear of misconstruction; for I write to you +unknown to all my family, and I am the only one of them who can have no +personal interest in the struggle about to take place between my father +and yourself. Before the law can decide between you, I shall be in my +grave. I write this from the Bed of Death. Philip, I write this--I, who +stood beside a deathbed more sacred to you than mine--I, who received +your mother's last sigh. And with that sigh there was a smile that +lasted when the sigh was gone: for I promised to befriend her children. +Heaven knows how anxiously I sought to fulfil that solemn vow! Feeble +and sick myself, I followed you and your brother with no aim, no prayer, +but this,--to embrace you and say, 'Accept a new brother in me.' I spare +you the humiliation, for it is yours, not mine, of recalling what passed +between us when at last we met. Yet, I still sought to save, at least, +Sidney,--more especially confided to my care by his dying mother. He +mysteriously eluded our search; but we had reason, by a letter received +from some unknown hand, to believe him saved and provided for. Again I +met you at Paris. I saw you were poor. Judging from your associate, I +might with justice think you depraved. Mindful of your declaration never +to accept bounty from a Beaufort, and remembering with natural resentment +the outrage I had before received from you, I judged it vain to seek and +remonstrate with you, but I did not judge it vain to aid. I sent you, +anonymously, what at least would suffice, if absolute poverty had +subjected you to evil courses, to rescue you from them it your heart were +so disposed. Perhaps that sum, trifling as it was, may have smoothed +your path and assisted your career. And why tell you all this now? To +dissuade from asserting rights you conceive to be just?--Heaven forbid! +If justice is with you, so also is the duty due to your mother's name. +But simply for this: that in asserting such rights, you content yourself +with justice, not revenge--that in righting yourself, you do not wrong +others. If the law should decide for you, the arrears you could demand +would leave my father and sister beggars. This may be law--it would not +be justice; for my father solemnly believed himself, and had every +apparent probability in his favour, the true heir of the wealth that +devolved upon him. This is not all. There may be circumstances +connected with the discovery of a certain document that, if authentic, +and I do not presume to question it, may decide the contest so far as it +rests on truth; circumstances which might seem to bear hard upon my +father's good name and faith. I do not know sufficiently of law to say +how far these could be publicly urged, or, if urged, exaggerated and +tortured by an advocate's calumnious ingenuity. But again, I say +justice, and not revenge! And with this I conclude, inclosing to you +these lines, written in your own hand, and leaving you the arbiter of +their value. + "ARTHUR BEAUFORT." + +The lines inclosed were these, a second time placed before the reader + + "I cannot guess who you are. They say that you call yourself a + relation; that must be some mistake. I knew not that my poor mother + had relations so kind. But, whoever you be, you soothed her last + hours--she died in your arms; and if ever-years, long years, hence-- + we should chance to meet, and I can do anything to aid another, my + blood, and my life, and my heart, and my soul, all are slaves to + your will! If you be really of her kindred I commend to you my + brother; he is at ---- with Mr. Morton. If you can serve him, my + mother's soul will watch over you as a guardian angel. As for me, I + ask no help from any one; I go into the world, and will carve out my + own way. So much do I shrink from the thought of charity from + others, that I do not believe I could bless you as I do now, if your + kindness to me did not close with the stone upon my mother's grave. + PHILIP." + + +This letter was sent to the only address of Monsieur de Vaudemont which +the Beauforts knew, viz., his apartments in town, and he did not receive +it the day it was sent. + +Meanwhile Arthur Beaufort's malady continued to gain ground rapidly. +His father, absorbed in his own more selfish fears (though, at the first +sight of Arthur, overcome by the alteration of his appearance), had +ceased to consider his illness fatal. In fact, his affection for Arthur +was rather one of pride than love: long absence had weakened the ties of +early custom. He prized him as an heir rather than treasured him as a +son. It almost seemed that as the Heritage was in danger, so the Heir +became less dear: this was only because he was less thought of. Poor +Mrs. Beaufort, yet but partially acquainted with the terrors of her +husband, still clung to hope for Arthur. Her affection for him brought +out from the depths of her cold and insignificant character qualities +that had never before been apparent. She watched--she nursed--she tended +him. The fine lady was gone; nothing but the mother was left behind. + +With a delicate constitution, and with an easy temper, which yielded to +the influence of companions inferior to himself, except in bodily vigour +and more sturdy will, Arthur Beaufort had been ruined by prosperity. +His talents and acquirements, if not first-rate, at least far above +mediocrity, had only served to refine his tastes, not to strengthen his +mind. His amiable impulses, his charming disposition and sweet temper, +had only served to make him the dupe of the parasites that feasted on the +lavish heir. His heart, frittered away in the usual round of light +intrigues and hollow pleasures, had become too sated and exhausted for +the redeeming blessings of a deep and a noble love. He had so lived for +Pleasure that he had never known Happiness. His frame broke by excesses +in which his better nature never took delight, he came home--to hear of +ruin and to die! + +It was evening in the sick-room. Arthur had risen from the bed to which, +for some days, he had voluntarily taken, and was stretched on the sofa +before the fire. Camilla was leaning over him, keeping in the shade, +that he might not see the tears which she could not suppress. His mother +had been endeavouring to amuse him, as she would have amused herself, by +reading aloud one of the light novels of the hour; novels that paint the +life of the higher classes as one gorgeous holyday. + +"My dear mother," said the patient querulously, "I have no interest in +these false descriptions of the life I have led. I know that life's +worth. Ah! had I been trained to some employment, some profession! had +I--well--it is weak to repine. Mother, tell me, you have seen Mons. de +Vaudemont: is he strong and healthy?" + +"Yes; too much so. He has not your elegance, dear Arthur." + +"And do you admire him, Camilla? Has no other caught your heart or your +fancy?" + +"My dear Arthur," interrupted Mrs. Beaufort, "you forget that Camilla is +scarcely out; and of course a young girl's affections, if she's well +brought up, are regulated by the experience of her parents. It is time +to take the medicine: it certainly agrees with you; you have more colour +to-day, my dear, dear son." + +While Mrs. Beaufort was pouring out the medicine, the door gently opened, +and Mr. Robert Beaufort appeared; behind him there rose a taller and a +statelier form, but one which seemed more bent, more humbled, more +agitated. Beaufort advanced. Camilla looked up and turned pale. The +visitor escaped from Mr. Beaufort's grasp on his arm; he came forward, +trembling, he fell on his knees beside Arthur, and seizing his hand, bent +over, it in silence. But silence so stormy! silence more impressive than +all words his breast heaved, his whole frame shook. Arthur guessed at +once whom he saw, and bent down gently as if to raise his visitor. + +"Oh! Arthur! Arthur!" then cried Philip; "forgive me! My mother's +comforter--my cousin--my brother! Oh! brother, forgive me!" + +And as he half rose, Arthur stretched out his arms, and Philip clasped +him to his breast. + +It is in vain to describe the different feelings that agitated those who +beheld; the selfish congratulations of Robert, mingled with a better and +purer feeling; the stupor of the mother; the emotions that she herself +could not unravel, which rooted Camilla to the spot. + +"You own me, then,--you own me!" cried Philip. "You accept the +brotherhood that my mad passions once rejected! And you, too--you, +Camilla--you who once knelt by my side, under this very roof--do you +remember me now? Oh, Arthur! that letter--that letter!--yes, indeed, +that aid which I ascribed to any one--rather than to you--made the date +of a fairer fortune. I may have owed to that aid the very fate that has +preserved me till now; the very name which I have not discredited. No, +no; do not think you can ask me a favour; you can but claim your due. +Brother! my dear brother!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + "_Warwick_.--Exceeding well! his cares are now all over." + --_Henry IV_. + +The excitement of this interview soon overpowering Arthur, Philip, in +quitting the room with Mr. Beaufort, asked a conference with that +gentleman; and they went into the very parlour from which the rich man +had once threatened to expel the haggard suppliant. Philip glanced round +the room, and the whole scene came again before him. After a pause, he +thus began,-- + +"Mr. Beaufort, let the Past be forgotten. We may have need of mutual +forgiveness, and I, who have so wronged your noble son, am willing to +suppose that I misjudged you. I cannot, it is true, forego this +lawsuit." + +Mr. Beaufort's face fell. + +"I have no right to do so. I am the trustee of my father's honour and my +mother's name: I must vindicate both: I cannot forego this lawsuit. But +when I once bowed myself to enter your house--then only with a hope, +where now I have the certainty of obtaining my heritage--it was with the +resolve to bury in oblivion every sentiment that would transgress the +most temperate justice. Now, I will do more. If the law decide against +me, we are as we were; if with me--listen: I will leave you the lands of +Beaufort, for your life and your son's. I ask but for me and for mine +such a deduction from your wealth as will enable me, should my brother be +yet living, to provide for him; and (if you approve the choice, which out +of all earth I would desire to make) to give whatever belongs to more +refined or graceful existence than I myself care for,--to her whom I +would call my wife. Robert Beaufort, in this room I once asked you to +restore to me the only being I then loved: I am now again your suppliant; +and this time you have it in your power to grant my prayer. Let Arthur +be, in truth, my brother: give me, if I prove myself, as I feel assured, +entitled to hold the name my father bore, give me your daughter as my +wife; give me Camilla, and I will not envy you the lands I am willing for +myself to resign; and if they pass to any children, those children will +be your daughter's!" + +The first impulse of Mr. Beaufort was to grasp the hand held out to him; +to pour forth an incoherent torrent of praise and protestation, of +assurances that he could not hear of such generosity, that what was right +was right, that he should be proud of such a son-in-law, and much more in +the same key. And in the midst of this, it suddenly occurred to Mr. +Beaufort, that if Philip's case were really as good as he said it was, he +could not talk so coolly of resigning the property it would secure him +for the term of a life (Mr. Beaufort thought of his own) so uncommonly +good, to say nothing of Arthur's. At this notion, he thought it best not +to commit himself too far; drew in as artfully as he could, until he +could consult Lord Lilburne and his lawyer; and recollecting also that +he had a great deal to manage with respect to Camilla and her prior +attachment, he began to talk of his distress for Arthur, of the necessity +of waiting a little before Camilla was spoken to, while so agitated about +her brother, of the exceedingly strong case which his lawyer advised him +he possessed--not but what he would rather rest the matter on justice +than law--and that if the law should be with him, he would not the less +(provided he did not force his daughter's inclinations, of which, indeed, +he had no fear) be most happy to bestow her hand on his brother's nephew, +with such a portion as would be most handsome to all parties. + +It often happens to us in this world, that when we come with our heart in +our hands to some person or other,--when we pour out some generous burst +of feeling so enthusiastic and self-sacrificing, that a bystander would +call us fool and Quixote;--it often, I say, happens to us, to find our +warm self suddenly thrown back upon our cold self; to discover that we +are utterly uncomprehended, and that the swine who would have munched up +the acorn does not know what to make of the pearl. That sudden ice which +then freezes over us, that supreme disgust and despair almost of the +whole world, which for the moment we confound with the one worldling-- +they who have felt, may reasonably ascribe to Philip. He listened to Mr. +Beaufort in utter and contemptuous silence, and then replied only,-- + +"Sir, at all events this is a question for law to decide. If it decide +as you think, it is for you to act; if as I think, it is for me. Till +then I will speak to you no more of your daughter, or my intentions. +Meanwhile, all I ask is the liberty to visit your son. I would not be +banished from his sick-room!" + +"My dear nephew!" cried Mr. Beaufort, again alarmed, "consider this house +as your home." + +Philip bowed and retreated to the door, followed obsequiously by his +uncle. + +It chanced that both Lord Lilburne and Mr. Blackwell were of the same +mind as to the course advisable for Mr. Beaufort now to pursue. Lord +Lilburne was not only anxious to exchange a hostile litigation for an +amicable lawsuit, but he was really eager to put the seal of relationship +upon any secret with regard to himself that a man who might inherit +L20,000. a year--a dead shot, and a bold tongue--might think fit to +disclose. This made him more earnest than he otherwise might have been +in advice as to other people's affairs. He spoke to Beaufort as a man of +the world--to Blackwell as a lawyer. + +"Pin the man down to his generosity," said Lilburne, "before he gets the +property. Possession makes a great change in a man's value of money. +After all, you can't enjoy the property when you're dead: he gives it +next to Arthur, who is not married; and if anything happen to Arthur, +poor fellow, why, in devolving on your daughter's husband and children, +it goes in the right line. Pin him down at once: get credit with the +world for the most noble and disinterested conduct, by letting your +counsel state that the instant you discovered the lost document you +wished to throw no obstacle in the way of proving the marriage, and that +the only thing to consider is, if the marriage be proved; if so, you will +be the first to rejoice, &c. &c. You know all that sort of humbug as +well as any man!" + +Mr. Blackwell suggested the same advice, though in different words-- +after taking the opinions of three eminent members of the bar; those +opinions, indeed, were not all alike--one was adverse to Mr. Robert +Beaufort's chance of success, one was doubtful of it, the third +maintained that he had nothing to fear from the action--except, possibly, +the ill-natured construction of the world. Mr. Robert Beaufort disliked +the idea of the world's ill-nature, almost as much as he did that of +losing his property. And when even this last and more encouraging +authority, learning privately from Mr. Blackwell that Arthur's illness +was of a nature to terminate fatally, observed, "that a compromise with a +claimant, who was at all events Mr. Beaufort's nephew, by which Mr. +Beaufort could secure the enjoyment of the estates to himself for life, +and to his son for life also, should not (whatever his probabilities of +legal success) be hastily rejected--unless he had a peculiar affection +for a very distant relation--who, failing Mr. Beaufort's male issue and +Philip's claim, would be heir-at-law, but whose rights would cease if +Arthur liked to cut off the entail," + +Mr. Beaufort at once decided. He had a personal dislike to that distant +heir-at-law; he had a strong desire to retain the esteem of the world; he +had an innate conviction of the justice of Philip's claim; he had a +remorseful recollection of his brother's generous kindness to himself; he +preferred to have for his heir, in case of Arthur's decease, a nephew who +would marry his daughter, than a remote kinsman. And should, after all, +the lawsuit fail to prove Philip's right, he was not sorry to have the +estate in his own power by Arthur's act in cutting off the entail. +Brief; all these reasons decided him. He saw Philip--he spoke to Arthur +--and all the preliminaries, as suggested above, were arranged between +the parties. The entail was cut off, and Arthur secretly prevailed upon +his father, to whom, for the present, the fee-simple thus belonged, to +make a will, by which he bequeathed the estates to Philip, without +reference to the question of his legitimacy. Mr. Beaufort felt his +conscience greatly eased after this action--which, too, he could always +retract if he pleased; and henceforth the lawsuit became but a matter of +form, so far as the property it involved was concerned. + +While these negotiations went on, Arthur continued gradually to decline. +Philip was with him always. The sufferer took a strange liking to this +long-dreaded relation, this man of iron frame and thews. In Philip there +was so much of life, that Arthur almost felt as if in his presence itself +there was an antagonism to death. And Camilla saw thus her cousin, day +by day, hour by hour, in that sick chamber, lending himself, with the +gentle tenderness of a woman, to soften the pang, to arouse the +weariness, to cheer the dejection. Philip never spoke to her of love: in +such a scene that had been impossible. She overcame in their mutual +cares the embarrassment she had before felt in his presence; whatever her +other feelings, she could not, at least, but be grateful to one so tender +to her brother. Three letters of Charles Spencer's had been, in the +afflictions of the house, only answered by a brief line. She now took +the occasion of a momentary and delusive amelioration in Arthur's disease +to write to him more at length. She was carrying, as usual, the letter +to her mother, when Mr. Beaufort met her, and took the letter from her +hand. He looked embarrassed for a moment, and bade her follow him into +his study. It was then that Camilla learned, for the first time, +distinctly, the claims and rights of her cousin; then she learned also at +what price those rights were to be enforced with the least possible +injury to her father. Mr. Beaufort naturally put the case before her in +the strongest point of the dilemma. He was to be ruined--utterly ruined; +a pauper, a beggar, if Camilla did not save him. The master of his fate +demanded his daughter's hand. Habitually subservient to even a whim of +her parents, this intelligence, the entreaty, the command with which it +was accompanied, overwhelmed her. She answered but by tears; and Mr. +Beaufort, assured of her submission, left her, to consider of the tone of +the letter he himself should write to Mr. Spencer. He had sat down to +this very task when he was summoned to Arthur's room. His son was +suddenly taken worse: spasms that threatened immediate danger convulsed +and exhausted him, and when these were allayed, he continued for three +days so feeble that Mr. Beaufort, his eyes now thoroughly opened to the +loss that awaited him, had no thoughts even for worldly interests. + +On the night of the third day, Philip, Robert Beaufort, his wife, his +daughter, were grouped round the death-bed of Arthur. The sufferer had +just wakened from sleep, and he motioned to Philip to raise him. Mr. +Beaufort started, as by the dim light he saw his son in the arms of +Catherine's! and another Chamber of Death seemed, shadow-like, to replace +the one before him. Words, long since uttered, knelled in his ear: +"There shall be a death-bed yet beside which you shall see the spectre of +her, now so calm, rising for retribution from the grave!" His blood +froze, his hair stood erect; he cast a hurried, shrinking glance round +the twilight of the darkened room: and with a feeble cry covered his +white face with his trembling hands! But on Arthur's lips there was a +serene smile; he turned his eyes from Philip to Camilla, and murmured, +"She will repay you!" A pause, and the mother's shriek rang through the +room! Robert Beaufort raised his face from his hands. His son was dead! + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + "_Jul_. And what reward do you propose? + + It must be my love."--_The Double Marriage_. + +While these events, dark, hurried, and stormy, had befallen the family of +his betrothed, Sidney lead continued his calm life by the banks of the +lovely lake. After a few weeks, his confidence in Camilla's fidelity +overbore all his apprehensions and forebodings. Her letters, though +constrained by the inspection to which they were submitted, gave him +inexpressible consolation and delight. He began, however, early to fancy +that there was a change in their tone. The letters seemed to shun the +one subject to which all others were as nought; they turned rather upon +the guests assembled at Beaufort Court; and why I know not,--for there +was nothing in them to authorise jealousy--the brief words devoted to +Monsieur de Vaudemont filled him with uneasy and terrible suspicion. He +gave vent to these feelings, as fully as he dared do, under the knowledge +that his letter would be seen; and Camilla never again even mentioned the +name of Vaudemont. Then there was a long pause; then her brother's +arrival and illness were announced; then, at intervals, but a few hurried +lines; then a complete, long, dreadful silence, and lastly, with a deep +black border and a solemn black seal, came the following letter from Mr. +Beaufort: + +"MY DEAR SIR,--I have the unutterable grief to announce to you and your +worthy uncle the irreparable loss I have sustained in the death of my +only son. It is a month to day since he departed this life. He died, +sir, as a Christian should die--humbly, penitently--exaggerating the few +faults of his short life, but--(and here the writer's hypocrisy, though +so natural to him--was it, that he knew not that he was hypocritical?-- +fairly gave way before the real and human anguish, for which there is no +dictionary!) but I cannot pursue this theme! + +"Slowly now awakening to the duties yet left me to discharge, I cannot +but be sensible of the material difference in the prospects of my +remaining child. Miss Beaufort is now the heiress to an ancient name and +a large fortune. She subscribes with me to the necessity of consulting +those new considerations which so melancholy an event forces upon her +mind. The little fancy--or liking--(the acquaintance was too short for +more) that might naturally spring up between two amiable young persons +thrown together in the country, must be banished from our thoughts. As a +friend, I shall be always happy to hear of your welfare; and should you +ever think of a profession in which I can serve you, you may command my +utmost interest and exertions. I know, my young friend, what you will +feel at first, and how disposed you will be to call me mercenary and +selfish. Heaven knows if that be really my character! But at your age, +impressions are easily effaced; and any experienced friend of the world +will assure you that, in the altered circumstances of the case, I have no +option. All intercourse and correspondence, of course, cease with this +letter,--until, at least, we may all meet, with no sentiments but those +of friendship and esteem. I desire my compliments to your worthy uncle, +in which Mrs. and Miss Beaufort join; and I am sure you will be happy to +hear that my wife and daughter, though still in great affliction, have +suffered less in health than I could have ventured to anticipate. + +"Believe me, dear Sir, +"Yours sincerely, +"ROBERT BEAUFORT. + +"To C. SPENCER, Esq., Jun." + + +When Sidney received this letter, he was with Mr. Spencer, and the latter +read it over the young man's shoulder, on which he leant affectionately. +When they came to the concluding words, Sidney turned round with a vacant +look and a hollow smile. "You see, sir," he said, "you see---" + +"My boy--my son--you bear this as you ought. Contempt will soon +efface--" + +Sidney started to his feet, and his whole countenance was changed. + +"Contempt--yes, for him! But for her--she knows it not--she is no party +to this--I cannot believe it--I will not! I--I----" and he rushed out of +the room. He was absent till nightfall, and when he returned, he +endeavoured to appear calm--but it was in vain. + +The next day brought him a letter from Camilla, written unknown to her +parents,--short, it is true (confirming the sentence of separation +contained in her father's), and imploring him not to reply to it,--but +still so full of gentle and of sorrowful feeling, so evidently worded in +the wish to soften the anguish she inflicted, that it did more than +soothe--it even administered hope. + +Now when Mr. Robert Beaufort had recovered the ordinary tone of his mind +sufficiently to indite the letter Sidney had just read, he had become +fully sensible of the necessity of concluding the marriage between Philip +and Camilla before the publicity of the lawsuit. The action for the +ejectment could not take place before the ensuing March or April. He +would waive the ordinary etiquette of time and mourning to arrange all +before. Indeed, he lived in hourly fear lest Philip should discover that +he had a rival in his brother, and break off the marriage, with its +contingent advantages. The first announcement of such a suit in the +newspapers might reach the Spencers; and if the young man were, as he +doubted not, Sidney Beaufort, would necessarily bring him forward, and +ensure the dreaded explanation. Thus apprehensive and ever scheming, +Robert Beaufort spoke to Philip so much, and with such apparent feeling, +of his wish to gratify, at the earliest possible period, the last wish of +his son, in the union now arranged--he spoke, with such seeming +consideration and good sense, of the avoidance of all scandal and +misinterpretation in the suit itself, which suit a previous marriage +between the claimant and his daughter would show at once to be of so +amicable a nature,--that Philip, ardently in love as he was, could not +but assent to any hastening of his expected happiness compatible with +decorum. As to any previous publicity by way of newspaper comment, he +agreed with Mr. Beaufort in deprecating it. But then came the question, +What name was he to bear in the interval? + +"As to that," said Philip, somewhat proudly, "when, after my mother's +suit in her own behalf, I persuaded her not to bear the name of Beaufort, +though her due--and for my own part, I prized her own modest name, which +under such dark appearances was in reality spotless--as much as the +loftier one which you bear and my father bore;--so I shall not resume the +name the law denies me till the law restores it to me. Law alone can +efface the wrong which law has done me." + +Mr. Beaufort was pleased with this reasoning (erroneous though it was), +and he now hoped that all would be safely arranged. + +That a girl so situated as Camilla, and of a character not energetic or +profound, but submissive, dutiful, and timid, should yield to the +arguments of her father, the desire of her dying brother--that she should +not dare to refuse to become the instrument of peace to a divided family, +the saving sacrifice to her father's endangered fortunes--that, in fine, +when, nearly a month after Arthur's death, her father, leading her into +the room, where Philip waited her footstep with a beating heart, placed +her hand in his--and Philip falling on his knees said, "May I hope to +retain this hand for life?"--she should falter out such words as he might +construe into not reluctant acquiescence; that all this should happen is +so natural that the reader is already prepared for it. But still she +thought with bitter and remorseful feelings of him thus deliberately and +faithlessly renounced. She felt how deeply he had loved her--she knew +how fearful would be his grief. She looked sad and thoughtful; but her +brother's death was sufficient in Philip's eyes to account for that. +The praises and gratitude of her father, to whom she suddenly seemed to +become an object of even greater pride and affection than ever Arthur had +been--the comfort of a generous heart, that takes pleasure in the very +sacrifice it makes--the acquittal of her conscience as to the motives of +her conduct--began, however, to produce their effect. Nor, as she had +lately seen more of Philip, could she be insensible of his attachment--of +his many noble qualities--of the pride which most women might have felt +in his addresses, when his rank was once made clear; and as she had ever +been of a character more regulated by duty than passion, so one who could +have seen what was passing in her mind would have had little fear for +Philip's future happiness in her keeping--little fear but that, when once +married to him, her affections would have gone along with her duties; and +that if the first love were yet recalled, it would be with a sigh due +rather to some romantic recollection than some continued regret. Few of +either sex are ever united to their first love; yet married people jog +on, and call each other "my dear" and "my darling" all the same. It +might be, it is true, that Philip would be scarcely loved with the +intenseness with which he loved; but if Camilla's feelings were capable +of corresponding to the ardent and impassioned ones of that strong and +vehement nature--such feelings were not yet developed in her. The heart +of the woman might still be half concealed in the vale of the virgin +innocence. Philip himself was satisfied--he believed that he was +beloved: for it is the property of love, in a large and noble heart, to +reflect itself, and to see its own image in the eyes on which it looks. +As the Poet gives ideal beauty and excellence to some ordinary child of +Eve, worshipping less the being that is than the being he imagines and +conceives--so Love, which makes us all poets for a while, throws its own +divine light over a heart perhaps really cold; and becomes dazzled into +the joy of a false belief by the very lustre with which it surrounds its +object. + +The more, however, Camilla saw of Philip, the more (gradually overcoming +her former mysterious and superstitious awe of him) she grew familiarised +to his peculiar cast of character and thought, so the more she began to +distrust her father's assertion, that he had insisted on her hand as a +price--a bargain--an equivalent for the sacrifice of a dire revenge. And +with this thought came another. Was she worthy of this man?--was she not +deceiving him? Ought she not to say, at least, that she had known a +previous attachment, however determined she might be to subdue it? Often +the desire for this just and honourable confession trembled on her lips, +and as often was it checked by some chance circumstance or some maiden +fear. Despite their connection, there was not yet between them that +delicious intimacy which ought to accompany the affiance of two hearts +and souls. The gloom of the house; the restraint on the very language of +love imposed by a death so recent and so deplored, accounted in much for +this reserve. And for the rest, Robert Beaufort prudently left them very +few and very brief opportunities to be alone. + +In the meantime, Philip (now persuaded that the Beauforts were ignorant +of his brother's fate) had set Mr. Barlow's activity in search of Sidney; +and his painful anxiety to discover one so dear and so mysteriously lost +was the only cause of uneasiness apparent in the brightening Future. +While these researches, hitherto fruitless, were being made, it so +happened, as London began now to refill, and gossip began now to revive, +that a report got abroad, no one knew how (probably from the servants) +that Monsieur de Vaudemont, a distinguished French officer, was shortly +to lead the daughter and sole heiress of Robert Beaufort, Esq., M.P., to +the hymeneal altar; and that report very quickly found its way into the +London papers: from the London papers it spread to the provincial--it +reached the eyes of Sidney in his now gloomy and despairing solitude. +The day that he read it he disappeared. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + "_Jul_. . . . Good lady, love him! + You have a noble and an honest gentleman. + I ever found him so. + Love him no less than I have done, and serve him, + And Heaven shall bless you--you shall bless my ashes." + BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER: _The Double Marriage_. + +We have been too long absent from Fanny; it is time to return to her. +The delight she experienced when Philip made her understand all the +benefits, the blessings, that her courage, nay, her intellect, had +bestowed upon him, the blushing ecstasy with which she heard (as they +returned to H----, the eventful morning of her deliverance, side by side, +her hand clasped in his, and often pressed to his grateful lips) his +praises, his thanks, his fear for her safety, his joy at regaining her-- +all this amounted to a bliss, which, till then, she could not have +conceived that life was capable of bestowing. And when he left her at +H----, to hurry to his lawyer's with the recovered document, it was but +for an hour. He returned, and did not quit her for several days. And in +that time he became sensible of her astonishing, and, to him, it seemed +miraculous, improvement in all that renders Mind the equal to Mind; +miraculous, for he guessed not the Influence that makes miracles its +commonplace. And now he listened attentively to her when she conversed; +he read with her (though reading was never much in his vocation), his +unfastidious ear was charmed with her voice, when it sang those simple +songs; and his manner (impressed alike by gratitude for the signal +service rendered to him, and by the discovery that Fanny was no longer a +child, whether in mind or years), though not less gentle than before, was +less familiar, less superior, more respectful, and more earnest. It was +a change which raised her in her own self-esteem. Ah, those were rosy +days for Fanny! + +A less sagacious judge of character than Lilburne would have formed +doubts perhaps of the nature of Philip's interest in Fanny. But he +comprehended at once the fraternal interest which a man like Philip might +well take in a creature like Fanny, if commended to his care by a +protector whose doom was so awful as that which had ingulfed the life of +William Gawtrey. Lilburne had some thoughts at first of claiming her, +but as he had no power to compel her residence with him, he did not wish, +on consideration, to come again in contact with Philip upon ground so +full of humbling recollections as that still overshadowed by the images +of Gawtrey and Mary. He contented himself with writing an artful letter +to Simon, stating that from Fanny's residence with Mr. Gawtrey, and from +her likeness to her mother, whom he had only seen as a child, he had +conjectured the relationship she bore to himself; and having obtained +other evidence of that fact (he did not say what or where), he had not +scrupled to remove her to his roof, meaning to explain all to Mr. Simon +Gawtrey the next day. This letter was accompanied by one from a lawyer, +informing Simon Gawtrey that Lord Lilburne would pay L200. a year, in +quarterly payments, to his order; and that he was requested to add, that +when the young lady he had so benevolently reared came of age, or +married, an adequate provision would be made for her. Simon's mind +blazed up at this last intelligence, when read to him, though he neither +comprehended nor sought to know why Lord Lilburne should be so generous, +or what that noble person's letter to himself was intended to convey. +For two days, he seemed restored to vigorous sense; but when he had once +clutched the first payment made in advance, the touch of the money seemed +to numb him back to his lethargy: the excitement of desire died in the +dull sense of possession. + +And just at that time Fanny's happiness came to a close. Philip received +Arthur Beaufort's letter; and now ensued long and frequent absences; and +on his return, for about an hour or so at a time, he spoke of sorrow and +death; and the books were closed and the songs silenced. All fear for +Fanny's safety was, of course, over; all necessity for her work; their +little establishment was increased. She never stirred out without Sarah; +yet she would rather that there had been some danger on her account for +him to guard against, or some trial that his smile might soothe. His +prolonged absences began to prey upon her--the books ceased to interest-- +no study filled up the dreary gap--her step grew listless-her cheek pale +--she was sensible at last that his presence had become necessary to her +very life. One day, he came to the house earlier than usual, and with a +much happier and serener expression of countenance than he had worn of +late. + +Simon was dozing in his chair, with his old dog, now scarce vigorous +enough to bark, curled up at his feet. Neither man nor dog was more as a +witness to what was spoken than the leathern chair, or the hearth-rug, on +which they severally reposed. + +There was something which, in actual life, greatly contributed to the +interest of Fanny's strange lot, but which, in narration, I feel I cannot +make sufficiently clear to the reader. And this was her connection and +residence with that old man. Her character forming, as his was +completely gone; here, the blank becoming filled--there, the page fading +to a blank. It was the tatter, total Deathliness-in-Life of Simon, that, +while so impressive to see, renders it impossible to bring him before the +reader in his full force of contrast to the young Psyche. He seldom +spoke--often, not from morning till night; he now seldom stirred. It is +in vain to describe the indescribable: let the reader draw the picture +for himself. And whenever (as I sometimes think he will, after he has +closed this book) he conjures up the idea he attaches to the name of its +heroine, let him see before her, as she glides through the humble room-- +as she listens to the voice of him she loves--as she sits musing by the +window, with the church spire just visible--as day by day the soul +brightens and expands within her--still let the reader see within the +same walls, greyhaired, blind, dull to all feeling, frozen to all life, +that stony image of Time and Death! Perhaps then he may understand why +they who beheld the real and living Fanny blooming under that chill and +mass of shadow, felt that her grace, her simplicity, her charming beauty, +were raised by the contrast, till they grew associated with thoughts and +images, mysterious and profound, belonging not more to the lovely than to +the sublime. + +So there sat the old man; and Philip, though aware of his presence, +speaking as if he were alone with Fanny, after touching on more casual +topics, thus addressed her: + +"My true and my dear friend, it is to you that I shall owe, not only my +rights and fortune, but the vindication of my mother's memory. You have +not only placed flowers upon that gravestone, but it is owing to you, +under Providence, that it will be inscribed at last with the Name which +refutes all calumny. Young and innocent as you now are, my gentle and +beloved benefactress, you cannot as yet know what a blessing it will be +to me to engrave that Name upon that simple stone. Hereafter, when you +yourself are a wife, a mother, you will comprehend the service you have +rendered to the living and the dead!" + +He stopped--struggling with the rush of emotions that overflowed his +heart. Alas, THE DEAD! what service can we render to them?--what availed +it now, either to the dust below, or to the immortality above, that the +fools and knaves of this world should mention the Catherine whose life +was gone, whose ears were deaf, with more or less respect? There is in +calumny that poison that, even when the character throws off the slander, +the heart remains diseased beneath the effect. They say that truth comes +sooner or later; but it seldom comes before the soul, passing from agony +to contempt, has grown callous to men's judgments. Calumniate a human +being in youth--adulate that being in age;--what has been the interval? +Will the adulation atone either for the torture, or the hardness which +the torture leaves at last? And if, as in Catherine's case (a case, how +common!), the truth come too late--if the tomb is closed--if the heart +you have wrung can be wrung no more--why the truth is as valueless as the +epitaph on a forgotten Name! Some such conviction of the hollowness of +his own words, when he spoke of service to the dead, smote upon Philip's +heart, and stopped the flow of his words. + +Fanny, conscious only of his praise, his thanks, and the tender affection +of his voice, stood still silent-her eyes downcast, her breast heaving. + +Philip resumed: + +"And now, Fanny, my honoured sister, I would thank you for more, were it +possible, even than this. I shall owe to you not only name and fortune, +but happiness. It is from the rights to which you have assisted me, and +which will shortly be made clear, that I am able to demand a hand I have +so long coveted--the hand of one as dear to me as you are. In a word, +the time has, this day, been fixed, when I shall have a home to offer to +you and to this old man--when I can present to you a sister who will +prize you as I do: for I love you so dearly--I owe you so much--that even +that home would lose half its smiles if you were not there. Do you +understand me, Fanny? The sister I speak of will be my wife!" + +The poor girl who heard this speech of most cruel tenderness did not +fall, or faint, or evince any outward emotion, except in a deadly +paleness. She seemed like one turned to stone. Her very breath forsook +her for some moments, and then came back with a long deep sigh. She laid +her hand lightly on his arm, and said calmly: + +"Yes--I understand. We once saw a wedding. You are to be married--I +shall see yours!" + +"You shall; and, later, perhaps, I may see your own." + +"I have a brother. Ah! if I could but find him--younger than I am-- +beautiful almost as you!" + +"You will be happy," said Fanny, still calmly. + +"I have long placed my hopes of happiness in such a union! Stay, where +are you going?" + +"To pray for you," said Fanny, with a smile, in which there was something +of the old vacancy, as she walked gently from the room. Philip followed +her with moistened eyes. Her manner might have deceived one more vain. +He soon after quitted the house, and returned to town. + +Three hours after, Sarah found Fanny stretched on the floor of her own +room--so still--so white--that, for some moments, the old woman thought +life was gone. She recovered, however, by degrees; and, after putting +her hands to her eyes, and muttering some moments, seemed much as usual, +except that she was more silent, and that her lips remained colourless, +and her hands cold like stone. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + "_Vec_. Ye see what follows. + _Duke_. O gentle sir! this shape again!"--_The Chances_. + +That evening Sidney Beaufort arrived in London. It is the nature of +solitude to make passions calm on the surface--agitated in the deeps. +Sidney had placed his whole existence in one object. When the letter +arrived that told him to hope no more, he was at first rather sensible of +the terrible and dismal blank--the "void abyss"--to which all his future +was suddenly changed, than roused to vehement and turbulent emotion. But +Camilla's letter had, as we have seen, raised his courage and animated +his heart. To the idea of her faith he still clung with the instinct of +hope in the midst of despair. The tidings that she was absolutely +betrothed to another, and in so short a time since her rejection of him, +let loose from all restraint his darker and more tempestuous passions. +In a state of mind bordering upon frenzy, he hurried to London--to seek +her--to see her; with what intent--what hope, if hope there were--he +himself could scarcely tell. But what man who has loved with fervour and +trust will be contented to receive the sentence of eternal separation +except from the very lips of the one thus worshipped and thus foresworn? + +The day had been intensely cold. Towards evening the snow fell fast and +heavily. Sidney had not, since a child, been before in London; and the +immense City, covered with a wintry and icy mist, through which the +hurrying passengers and the slow-moving vehicles passed, spectre-like, +along the dismal and slippery streets-opened to the stranger no +hospitable arms. He knew not a step of the way--he was pushed to and +fro--his scarce intelligible questions impatiently answered--the snow +covered him--the frost pierced to his veins. At length a man, more +kindly than the rest, seeing that he was a stranger to London, procured +him a hackney-coach, and directed the driver to the distant quarter of +Berkeley Square. The snow balled under the hoofs of the horses--the +groaning vehicle proceeded at the pace of a hearse. At length, and after +a period of such suspense, and such emotion, as Sidney never in after- +life could recall without a shudder, the coach stopped--the benumbed +driver heavily descended--the sound of the knocker knelled loud through +the muffled air--and the light from Mr. Beaufort's hall glared full upon +the dizzy eyes of the visitor. He pushed aside the porter, and sprang +into the hall. Luckily, one of the footmen who had attended Mrs. +Beaufort to the Lakes recognised him; and, in answer to his breathless +inquiry, said,-- + +"Why, indeed, Mr. Spencer, Miss Beaufort is at home--up-stairs in the +drawing-room, with master and mistress, and Monsieur de Vaudemont; but--" + +Sidney waited no more. He bounded up the stairs--he opened the first +door that presented itself to him, and burst, unannounced and unlooked- +for, upon the eyes of the group seated within. He saw not the terrified +start of Mr. Robert Beaufort--he heeded not the faint, nervous +exclamation of the mother--he caught not the dark and wondering glace of +the stranger seated beside Camilla--he saw but Camilla herself, and in a +moment he was at her feet. + +"Camilla, I am here!--I, who love you so--I, who have nothing in the +world but you! I am here--to learn from you, and you alone, if I am +indeed abandoned--if you are indeed to be another's!" + +He had dashed his hat from his brow as he sprang forward; his long fair +hair, damp with the snows, fell disordered over his forehead; his eyes +were fixed, as for life and death, upon the pale face and trembling lips +of Camilla. Robert Beaufort, in great alarm, and well aware of the +fierce temper of Philip, anticipative of some rash and violent impulse, +turned his glance upon his destined son-in-law. But there was no angry +pride in the countenance he there beheld. Philip had risen, but his +frame was bent--his knees knocked together--his lips were parted--his +eyes were staring full upon the face of the kneeling man. + +Suddenly Camilla, sharing her father's fear, herself half rose, and with +an unconscious pathos, stretched one hand, as if to shelter, over +Sidney's head, and looked to Philip. Sidney's eyes followed hers. He +sprang to his feet. + +"What, then, it is true! And this is the man for whom I am abandoned! +But unless you--you, with your own lips, tell me that you love me no +more--that you love another--I will not yield you but with life." + +He stalked sternly and impetuously up to Philip, who recoiled as his +rival advanced. The characters of the two men seemed suddenly changed. +The timid dreamer seemed dilated into the fearless soldier. The soldier +seemed shrinking--quailing-into nameless terror. Sidney grasped that +strong arm, as Philip still retreated, with his slight and delicate +fingers, grasped it with violence and menace; and frowning into the face +from which the swarthy blood was scared away, said, in a hollow whisper: + +"Do you hear me? Do you comprehend me? I say that she shall not be +forced into a marriage at which I yet believe her heart rebels. My claim +is holier than yours. Renounce her, or win her but with my blood." + +Philip did not apparently hear the words thus addressed to him. His +whole senses seemed absorbed in the one sense of sight. He continued to +gaze upon the speaker, till his eye dropped on the hand that yet griped +his arm. And as he thus looked, he uttered an inarticulate cry. He +caught the hand in his own, and pointed to a ring on the finger, but +remained speechless. Mr. Beaufort approached, and began some stammered +words of soothing to Sidney, but Philip motioned him to be silent, and, +at last, as if by a violent effort, gasped forth, not to Sidney, but to +Beaufort,-- + +"His name?--his name?" + +"It is Mr. Spencer--Mr. Charles Spencer," cried Beaufort. "Listen to me, +I will explain all--I--" + +"Hush, hush! cried Philip; and turning to Sidney, he put his hand on his +shoulder, and looking him full in the face, said,-- + +"Have you not known another name? Are you not--yes, it is so--it is--it +is! Follow me--follow!" + +And still retaining his grasp, and leading Sidney, who was now subdued, +awed, and a prey to new and wild suspicions, he moved on gently, stride +by stride--his eyes fixed on that fair face--his lips muttering-till the +closing door shut both forms from the eyes of the three there left. + +It was the adjoining room into which Philip led his rival. It was lit +but by a small reading-lamp, and the bright, steady blaze of the fire; +and by this light they both continued to gaze on each other, as if +spellbound, in complete silence. At last Philip, by an irresistible +impulse, fell upon Sidney's bosom, and, clasping him with convulsive +energy, gasped out: + +"Sidney!--Sidney!--my mother's son!" + +"What!" exclaimed Sidney, struggling from the embrace, and at last +freeing himself; "it is you, then!--you, my own brother! You, who have +been hitherto the thorn in my path, the cloud in my fate! You, who are +now come to make me a wretch for life! I love that woman, and you tear +her from me! You, who subjected my infancy to hardship, and, but for +Providence, might have degraded my youth, by your example, into shame and +guilt!" + +"Forbear!--forbear!" cried Philip, with a voice so shrill in its agony, +that it smote the hearts of those in the adjoining chamber like the +shriek of some despairing soul. They looked at each other, but not one +had the courage to break upon the interview. + +Sidney himself was appalled by the sound. He threw himself on a seat, +and, overcome by passions so new to him, by excitement so strange, hid +his face, and sobbed as a child. + +Philip walked rapidly to and fro the room for some moments; at length he +paused opposite to Sidney, and said, with the deep calmness of a wronged +and goaded spirit: + +"Sidney Beaufort, hear me! When my mother died she confided you to my +care, my love, and my protection. In the last lines that her hand +traced, she bade me think less of myself than of you; to be to you as a +father as well as brother. The hour that I read that letter I fell on my +knees, and vowed that I would fulfil that injunction--that I would +sacrifice my very self, if I could give fortune or happiness to you. And +this not for your sake alone, Sidney; no! but as my mother--our wronged, +our belied, our broken-hearted mother!--O Sidney, Sidney! have you no +tears for her, too?" He passed his hand over his own eyes for a moment, +and resumed: "But as our mother, in that last letter, said to me, 'let my +love pass into your breast for him,' so, Sidney, so, in all that I could +do for you, I fancied that my mother's smile looked down upon me, and +that in serving you it was my mother whom I obeyed. Perhaps, hereafter, +Sidney, when we talk over that period of my earlier life when I worked +for you, when the degradation you speak of (there was no crime in it!)-- +was borne cheerfully for your sake, and yours the holiday though mine the +task--perhaps, hereafter, you will do me more justice. You left me, or +were reft from me, and I gave all the little fortune that my mother had +bequeathed us, to get some tidings from you. I received your letter-- +that bitter letter--and I cared not then that I was a beggar, since I was +alone. You talk of what I have cost you--you talk! and you now ask me +to--to--Merciful Heaven! let me understand you--do you love Camilla? +Does she love you? Speak--speak--explain--what, new agony awaits me?" + +It was then that Sidney, affected and humbled, amidst all his more +selfish sorrows, by his brother's language and manner, related, as +succinctly as he could, the history of his affection for Camilla, the +circumstances of their engagement, and ended by placing before him the +letter he had received from Mr. Beaufort. + +In spite of all his efforts for self-control, Philip's anguish was so +great, so visible, that Sidney, after looking at his working features, +his trembling hands, for a moment, felt all the earlier parts of his +nature melt in a flow of generous sympathy and remorse. He flung himself +on the breast from which he had shrunk before, and cried,-- + +"Brother, brother! forgive me; I see how I have wronged you. If she has +forgotten me, if she love you, take her and be happy!" + +Philip returned his embrace, but without warmth, and then moved away; +and, again, in great disorder, paced the room. His brother only heard +disjointed exclamations that seemed to escape him unawares: "They said +she loved me! Heaven give me strength! Mother--mother! let me fulfil my +vow! Oh, that I had died ere this!" He stopped at last, and the large +dews rolled down his forehead. "Sidney!" said he, "there is a mystery +here that I comprehend not. But my mind now is very confused. If she +loves you--if!--is it possible for a woman to love two? Well, well, I go +to solve the riddle: wait here!" + +He vanished into the next room, and for nearly half an hour Sidney was +alone. He heard through the partition murmured voices; he caught more +clearly the sound of Camilla's sobs. The particulars of that interview +between Philip and Camilla, alone at first (afterwards Mr. Robert +Beaufort was re-admitted), Philip never disclosed, nor could Sidney +himself ever obtain a clear account from Camilla, who could not recall +it, even years after, without great emotion. But at last the door was +opened, and Philip entered, leading Camilla by the hand. His face was +calm, and there was a smile on his lips; a greater dignity than even. +that habitual to him was diffused over his whole person. Camilla was +holding her handkerchief to her eyes and weeping passionately. Mr. +Beaufort followed them with a mortified and slinking air. + +"Sidney," said Philip, "it is past. All is arranged. I yield to your +earlier, and therefore better, claim. Mr. Beaufort consents to your +union. He will tell you, at some fitter time, that our birthright is at +last made clear, and that there is no blot on the name we shall hereafter +bear. Sidney, embrace your bride!" + +Amazed, delighted, and still half incredulous, Sidney seized and kissed +the hand of Camilla; and as he then drew her to his breast, she said, as +she pointed to Philip:-- + +"Oh! if you do love me as you say, see in him the generous, the noble--" +Fresh sobs broke off her speech; but as Sidney sought again to take her +hand, she whispered, with a touching and womanly sentiment, "Ah! respect +him: see!--" and Sidney, looking then at his brother, saw, that though he +still attempted to smile, his lip writhed, and his features were drawn +together, as one whose frame is wrung by torture, but who struggles not +to groan. + +He flew to Philip, who, grasping his hand, held him back, and said,-- + +"I have fulfilled my vow! I have given you up the only blessing my life +has known. Enough, you are happy, and I shall be so too, when God +pleases to soften this blow. And now you must not wonder or blame me, +if, though so lately found, I leave you for a while. Do me one kindness, +--you, Sidney--you, Mr. Beaufort. Let the marriage take place at +H----, in the village church by which my mother sleeps; let it be +delayed till the suit is terminated: by that time I shall hope to meet +you all--to meet you, Camilla, as I ought to meet my brother's wife; till +then, my presence will not sadden your happiness. Do not seek to see me; +do not expect to hear from me. Hist! be silent, all of you; my heart is +yet bruised and sore. O THOU," and here, deepening his voice, he raised +his arms, "Thou who hast preserved my youth from such snares and such +peril, who hast guided my steps from the abyss to which they wandered, +and beneath whose hand I now bow, grateful if chastened, receive this +offering, and bless that union! Fare ye well." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + "Heaven's airs amid the harpstrings dwell; + And we wish they ne'er may fade; + They cease; and the soul is a silent cell, + Where music never played. + Dream follows dream through the long night-hours." + WILSON: _The Past, a poem_. + +The self-command which Philip had obtained for a while deserted him when +he was without the house. His mind felt broken up into chaos; he hurried +on, mechanically, on foot; he passed street upon street, now solitary and +deserted, as the lamps gleamed upon the thick snow. The city was left +behind him. He paused not, till, breathless, and exhausted in spirit if +not in frame, he reached the churchyard where Catherine's dust reposed. +The snow had ceased to fall, but it lay deep over the graves; the +yew-trees, clad in their white shrouds, gleamed ghost-like through the +dimness. Upon the rail that fenced the tomb yet hung a wreath that +Fanny's hand had placed there. But the flowers were hid; it was a wreath +of snow! Through the intervals of the huge and still clouds, there +gleamed a few melancholy stars. The very calm of the holy spot seemed +unutterably sad. The Death of the year overhung the Death of man. And +as Philip bent over the tomb, within and without all was ICE and NIGHT! + +For hours he remained on that spot, alone with his grief and absorbed in +his prayer. Long past midnight Fanny heard his step on the stairs, and +the door of his chamber close with unwonted violence. She heard, too, +for some time, his heavy tread on the floor, till suddenly all was +silent. The next morning, when, at the usual hour, Sarah entered to +unclose the shutters and light the fire, she was startled by wild +exclamations and wilder laughter. The fever had mounted to the brain-- +he was delirious. + +For several weeks Philip Beaufort was in imminent danger; for a +considerable part of that time he was unconscious; and when the peril was +past, his recovery was slow and gradual. It was the only illness to +which his vigorous frame had ever been subjected: and the fever had +perhaps exhausted him more than it might have done one in whose +constitution the disease had encountered less resistance. His brother; +imagining he had gone abroad, was unacquainted with his danger. None +tended his sick-bed save the hireling nurse, the feed physician, and the +unpurchasable heart of the only being to whom the wealth and rank of the +Heir of Beaufort Court were as nothing. Here was reserved for him Fate's +crowning lesson, in the vanity of those human wishes which anchor in gold +and power. For how many years had the exile and the outcast pined +indignantly for his birthright?--Lo! it was won: and with it came the +crushed heart and the smitten frame. As he slowly recovered sense and +reasoning, these thoughts struck him forcibly. He felt as if he were +rightly punished in having disdained, during his earlier youth, the +enjoyments within his reach. Was there nothing in the glorious health +--the unconquerable hope--the heart, if wrung, and chafed, and sorely +tried, free at least from the direst anguish of the passions, +disappointed and jealous love? Though now certain, if spared to the +future, to be rich, powerful, righted in name and honour, might he not +from that sick-bed envy his earlier past? even when with his brother +orphan he wandered through the solitary fields, and felt with what +energies we are gifted when we have something to protect; or when, loving +and beloved, he saw life smile out to him in the eyes of Eugenie; or +when, after that melancholy loss, he wrestled boldly, and breast to +breast with Fortune, in a far land, for honour and independence? There +is something in severe illness, especially if it be in violent contrast +to the usual strength of the body, which has often the most salutary +effect upon the mind; which often, by the affliction of the frame, +roughly wins us from the too morbid pains of the heart! which makes us +feel that, in mere LIFE, enjoyed as the robust enjoy it, God's Great +Principle of Good breathes and moves. We rise thus from the sick-bed +softened and humbled, and more disposed to look around us for such +blessings as we may yet command. + +The return of Philip, his danger, the necessity of exertion, of tending +him, had roused Fanny from a state which might otherwise have been +permanently dangerous to the intellect so lately ripened within her. +With what patience, with what fortitude, with what unutterable thought +and devotion, she fulfilled that best and holiest woman's duty--let the +man whose struggle with life and death has been blessed with the vigil +that wakes and saves, imagine to himself. And in all her anxiety and +terror, she had glimpses of a happiness which it seemed to her almost +criminal to acknowledge. For, even in his delirium, her voice seemed to +have some soothing influence over him, and he was calmer while she was +by. And when at last he was conscious, her face was the first he saw, +and her name the first which his lips uttered. As then he grew gradually +stronger, and the bed was deserted for the sofa, he took more than the +old pleasure in hearing her read to him; which she did with a feeling +that lecturers cannot teach. And once, in a pause from this occupation, +he spoke to her frankly,--he sketched his past history--his last +sacrifice. And Fanny, as she wept, learned that he was no more +another's! + +It has been said that this man, naturally of an active and impatient +temperament, had been little accustomed to seek those resources which are +found in books. But somehow in that sick chamber--it was Fanny's voice-- +the voice of her over whose mind he had once so haughtily lamented, that +taught him how much of aid and solace the Herd of Men derive from the +Everlasting Genius of the Few. + +Gradually, and interval by interval, moment by moment, thus drawn +together, all thought beyond shut out (for, however crushing for the time +the blow that had stricken Philip from health and reason, he was not that +slave to a guilty fancy, that he could voluntarily indulge--that he would +not earnestly seek to shun--all sentiments 'chat yet turned with unholy +yearning towards the betrothed of his brother);--gradually, I say, and +slowly, came those progressive and delicious epochs which mark a +revolution in the affections:--unspeakable gratitude, brotherly +tenderness, the united strength of compassion and respect that he had +felt for Fanny seemed, as he gained health, to mellow into feelings yet +more exquisite and deep. He could no longer delude himself with a vain +and imperious belief that it was a defective mind that his heart +protected; he began again to be sensible to the rare beauty of that +tender face--more lovely, perhaps, for the paleness that had replaced its +bloom. The fancy that he had so imperiously checked before--before he +saw Camilla, returned to him, and neither pride nor honour had now the +right to chase the soft wings away. One evening, fancying himself alone, +he fell into a profound reverie; he awoke with a start, and the +exclamation, "was it true love that I ever felt for Camilla, or a +passion, a frenzy, a delusion?" + +His exclamation was answered by a sound that seemed both of joy and +grief. He looked up, and saw Fanny before him; the light of the moon, +just risen, fell full on her form, but her hands were clasped before her +face; he heard her sob. + +"Fanny, dear Fanny!" he cried, and sought to throw himself from the sofa +to her feet. But she drew herself away, and fled from the chamber silent +as a dream. + +Philip rose, and, for the first time since his illness, walked, but with +feeble steps, to and fro the room. With what different emotions from +those in which last, in fierce and intolerable agony, he had paced that +narrow boundary! Returning health crept through his veins--a serene, a +kindly, a celestial joy circumfused his heart. Had the time yet come +when the old Florimel had melted into snow; when the new and the true +one, with its warm life, its tender beauty, its maiden wealth of love, +had risen before his hopes? He paused before the window; the spot within +seemed so confined, the night without so calm and lovely, that he forgot +his still-clinging malady, and unclosed the casement: the air came soft +and fresh upon his temples, and the church-tower and spire, for the first +time, did not seem to him to rise in gloom against the heavens. Even the +gravestone of Catherine, half in moonlight, half in shadow, appeared to +him to wear a smile. His mother's memory was become linked with the +living Fanny. + +"Thou art vindicated--thy Sidney is happy," he murmured: "to her the +thanks!" + +Fair hopes, and soft thoughts busy within him, he remained at the +casement till the increasing chill warned him of the danger he incurred. + +The next day, when the physician visited him, he found the fever had +returned. For many days, Philip was again in danger--dull, unconscious +even of the step and voice of Fanny. + +He woke at last as from a long and profound sleep; woke so refreshed, so +revived, that he felt at once that some great crisis had been passed, and +that at length he had struggled back to the sunny shores of Life. + +By his bedside sat Liancourt, who, long alarmed at his disappearance, had +at last contrived, with the help of Mr. Barlow, to trace him to Gawtrey's +house, and had for several days taken share in the vigils of poor Fanny. + +While he was yet explaining all this to Philip, and congratulating +him on his evident recovery, the physician entered to confirm the +congratulation. In a few days the invalid was able to quit his room, and +nothing but change of air seemed necessary for his convalescence. It was +then that Liancourt, who had for two days seemed impatient to unburden +himself of some communication, thus addressed him:-- + +"My--My dear friend, I have learned now your story from Barlow, who +called several times during your relapse; and who is the more anxious +about you, as the time for the decision of your case now draws near. The +sooner you quit this house the better." + +"Quit this house! and why? Is there not one in this house to whom I owe +my fortune and my life?" + +"Yes; and for that reason I say, 'Go hence:' it is the only return you +can make her." + +"Pshaw!--speak intelligibly." + +"I will," said Liancourt, gravely. "I have been a watcher with her by +your sick-bed, and I know what you must feel already:--nay, I must +confess that even the old servant has ventured to speak to me. You have +inspired that poor girl with feelings dangerous to her peace." + +"Ha!" cried Philip, with such joy that Liancourt frowned, and said, +"Hitherto I have believed you too honourable to--" + +"So you think she loves me?" interrupted Philip. "Yes; what then? You, +the heir of Beaufort Court, of a rental of L20,000. a year,--of an +historical name,--you cannot marry this poor girl?" + +"Well!--I will consider what you say, and, at all events, I will leave +the house to attend the result of the trial. Let us talk no more on the +subject now." + +Philip had the penetration to perceive that Liancourt, who was greatly +moved by the beauty, the innocence, and the unprotected position of +Fanny, had not confined caution to himself; that with his characteristic +well-meaning bluntness, and with the license of a man somewhat advanced +in years, he had spoken to Fanny herself: for Fanny now seemed to shun +Philip,--her eyes were heavy, her manner was embarrassed. He saw the +change, but it did not grieve him; he hailed the omens which he drew from +it. + +And at last he and Liancourt went. He was absent three weeks, during +which time the formality of the friendly lawsuit was decided in the +plaintiff's favour; and the public were in ecstasies at the noble and +sublime conduct of Mr. Robert Beaufort: who, the moment he had discovered +a document which he might so easily have buried for ever in oblivion, +voluntarily agreed to dispossess himself of estates he had so long +enjoyed, preferring conscience to lucre. Some persons observed that it +was reported that Mr. Philip Beaufort had also been generous--that he had +agreed to give up the estates for his uncle's life, and was only in the +meanwhile to receive a fourth of the revenues. But the universal comment +was, "He could not have done less!" Mr. Robert Beaufort was, as Lord +Lilburne had once observed, a man who was born, made, and reared to be +spoken well of by the world; and it was a comfort to him now, poor man, +to feel that his character was so highly estimated. If Philip should +live to the age of one hundred, he will never become so respectable and +popular a man with the crowd as his worthy uncle. But does it much +matter? Philip returned to H---- the eve before the day fixed for the +marriage of his brother and Camilla. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + From Night, Sunshine and Day arose--HES + +The sun of early May shone cheerfully over the quiet suburb of H----. +In the thoroughfares life was astir. It was the hour of noon--the hour +at which commerce is busy, and streets are full. The old retired trader, +eying wistfully the rolling coach or the oft-pausing omnibus, was +breathing the fresh and scented air in the broadest and most crowded +road, from which, afar in the distance, rose the spires of the +metropolis. The boy let loose from the day-school was hurrying home to +dinner, his satchel on his back: the ballad-singer was sending her +cracked whine through the obscurer alleys, where the baker's boy, with +puddings on his tray, and the smart maid-servant, despatched for porter, +paused to listen. And round the shops where cheap shawls and cottons +tempted the female eye, many a loitering girl detained her impatient +mother, and eyed the tickets and calculated her hard-gained savings for +the Sunday gear. And in the corners of the streets steamed the itinerant +kitchens of the piemen, and rose the sharp cry, "All hot! all hot!" in +the ear of infant and ragged hunger. And amidst them all rolled on some +lazy coach of ancient merchant or withered maiden, unconscious of any +life but that creeping through their own languid veins. And before the +house in which Catherine died, there loitered many stragglers, gossips, +of the hamlet, subscribers to the news-room hard by, to guess, and +speculate, and wonder why, from the church behind, there rose the merry +peal of the marriage-bell! + +At length along the broad road leading from the great city, there were +seen rapidly advancing three carriages of a very different fashion from +those familiar to the suburb. On they came; swiftly they whirled round +the angle that conducted to the church; the hoofs of the gay steeds +ringing cheerily on the ground; the white favours of the servants +gleaming in the sun. Happy is the bride the sun shines on! And when the +carriages had thus vanished, the scattered groups melted into one crowd, +and took their way to the church. They stood idling without in the +burial-ground; many of them round the fence that guarded from their +footsteps Catherine's lonely grave. All in nature was glad, +exhilarating, and yet serene; a genial freshness breathed through the +soft air; not a cloud was to be seen in the smiling azure; even the old +dark yews seemed happy in their everlasting verdure. The bell ceased, +and then even the crowd grew silent; and not a sound was heard in that +solemn spot to whose demesnes are consecrated alike the Birth, the +Marriage, and the Death. + +At length there came forth from the church door the goodly form of a rosy +beadle. Approaching the groups, he whispered the better-dressed and +commanded the ragged, remonstrated with the old and lifted his cane +against the young; and the result of all was, that the churchyard, not +without many a murmur and expostulation, was cleared, and the crowd fell +back in the space behind the gates of the principal entrance, where they +swayed and gaped and chattered round the carriages, which were to bear +away the bridal party. + +Within the church, as the ceremony was now concluded, Philip Beaufort +conducted, hand-in-hand, silently along the aisle, his brother's wife. + +Leaning on his stick, his cold sneer upon his thin lip, Lord Lilburne +limped, step by step, with the pair, though a little apart from them, +glancing from moment to moment at the face of Philip Beaufort, where he +had hoped to read a grief that he could not detect. Lord Lilburne had +carefully refrained from an interview with Philip till that day, and he +now only came to the wedding as a surgeon goes to an hospital, to examine +a disease he had been told would be great and sore: he was disappointed. +Close behind followed Sidney, radiant with joy, and bloom, and beauty; +and his kind guardian, the tears rolling down his eyes, murmured +blessings as he looked upon him. Mrs. Beaufort had declined attending +the ceremony--her nerves were too weak--but, behind, at a longer +interval, came Robert Beaufort, sober, staid, collected as ever to +outward seeming; but a close observer might have seen that his eye had +lost its habitual complacent cunning, that his step was more heavy, his +stoop more joyless. About his air there was a some thing crestfallen. +The consciousness of acres had passed away from his portly presence. +He was no longer a possessor, but a pensioner. The rich man, who had +decided as he pleased on the happiness of others, was a cipher; he had +ceased to have any interest in anything. What to him the marriage of +his daughter now? Her children would not be the heirs of Beaufort. As +Camilla kindly turned round, and through happy tears waited for his +approach, to clasp his hand, he forced a smile, but it was sickly and +piteous. He longed to creep away, and be alone. + +"My father!" said Camilla, in her sweet low voice; and she extricated +herself from Philip, and threw herself on his breast. + +"She is a good child," said Robert Beaufort vacantly, and, turning his +dry eyes to the group, he caught instinctively at his customary +commonplaces;--"and a good child, Mr. Sidney, makes a good wife!" + +The clergyman bowed as if the compliment were addressed to himself: he +was the only man there whom Robert Beaufort could now deceive. + +"My sister," said Philip Beaufort, as once more leaning on his arm, they +paused before the church door, "may Sidney love and prize you as--as I +would have done; and believe me, both of you, I have no regret, no +memory, that wounds me now." + +He dropped the hand, and motioned to her father to load her to the +carriage. Then winding his arm into Sidney's, he said,-- + +"Wait till they are gone: I have one word yet with you. Go on, +gentlemen." + +The clergyman bowed, and walked through the churchyard. But Lilburne, +pausing and surveying Philip Beaufort, said to him, whisperingly,-- + +"And so much for feeling--the folly! So much for generosity--the +delusion! Happy man!" + +"I am thoroughly happy, Lord Lilburne." + +"Are you?--Then, it was neither feeling nor generosity; and we were taken +in! Good day." With that he limped slowly to the gate. + +Philip answered not the sarcasm even by a look. For at that moment a +loud shout was set up by the mob without--they had caught a glimpse of +the bride. + +"Come, Sidney, this way." he said; "I must not detain you long." + +Arm in arm they passed out of the church, and turned to the spot hard by, +where the flowers smiled up to them from the stone on their mother's +grave. + +The old inscription had been effaced, and the name of CATHERINE BEAUFORT +was placed upon the stone. "Brother," said Philip, "do not forget this +grave: years hence, when children play around your own hearth. Observe, +the name of Catherine Beaufort is fresher on the stone than the dates of +birth and death--the name was only inscribed there to-day--your wedding- +day. Brother, by this grave we are now indeed united." + +"Oh, Philip!" cried Sidney, in deep emotion, clasping the hand stretched +out to him; "I feel, I feel how noble, how great you are--that you have +sacrificed more than I dreamed of--" + +"Hush!" said Philip, with a smile. "No talk of this. I am happier than +you deem me. Go back now--she waits you." + +"And you?--leave you!--alone!" + +"Not alone," said Philip, pointing to the grave. + +Scarce had he spoken when, from the gate, came the shrill, clear voice of +Lord Lilburne,-- + +"We wait for Mr. Sidney Beaufort." + +Sidney passed his hand over his eyes, wrung the hand of his brother once +more, and in a moment was by Camilla's side. + +Another shout--the whirl of the wheels--the trampling of feet--the +distant hum and murmur--and all was still. The clerk returned to lock +up the church--he did not observe where Philip stood in the shadow of the +wall--and went home to talk of the gay wedding, and inquire at what hour +the funeral of the young woman; his next-door neighbour, would take place +the next day. + +It might be a quarter of an hour after Philip was thus left--nor had he +moved from the spot--when he felt his sleeve pulled gently. He turned +round and saw before him the wistful face of Fanny! + +"So you would not come to the wedding?" said he. + +"No. But I fancied you might be here alone--and sad." + +"And you will not even wear the dress I gave you?" + +"Another time. Tell me, are you unhappy?" + +"Unhappy, Fanny! No; look around. The very burial-ground has a smile. +See the laburnums clustering over the wall, listen to the birds on the +dark yews above, and yonder see even the butterfly has settled upon her +grave! + +"I am not unhappy." As he thus spoke he looked at her earnestly, and +taking both her hands in his, drew her gently towards him, and continued: +"Fanny, do you remember, that, leaning over that gate, I once spoke to +you of the happiness of marriage where two hearts are united? Nay, +Fanny, nay, I must go on. It was here in this spot,--it was here that +I first saw you on my return to England. I came to seek the dead, and +I have thought since, it was my mother's guardian spirit that drew me +hither to find you--the living! And often afterwards, Fanny, you would +come with me here, when, blinded and dull as I was, I came to brood and +to repine, insensible of the treasures even then perhaps within my reach. +But, best as it was: the ordeal through which I have passed has made me +more grateful for the prize I now dare to hope for. On this grave your +hand daily renewed the flowers. By this grave, the link between the Time +and the Eternity, whose lessons we have read together, will you consent +to record our vows? Fanny, dearest, fairest, tenderest, best, I love +you, and at last as alone you should be loved!--I woo you as my wife! +Mine, not for a season, but for ever--for ever, even when these graves +are open, and the World shrivels like a scroll. Do you understand me?-- +do you heed me?--or have I dreamed that that--" + +He stopped short--a dismay seized him at her silence. Had he been +mistaken in his divine belief!--the fear was momentary: for Fanny, who +had recoiled as he spoke, now placing her hands to her temples, gazing on +him, breathlessly and with lips apart, as if, indeed, with great effort +and struggle her modest spirit conceived the possibility of the happiness +that broke upon it, advanced timidly, her face suffused in blushes; and, +looking into his eyes, as if she would read into his very soul, said, +with an accent, the intenseness of which showed that her whole fate hung +on his answer,-- + +"But this is pity?--they have told you that I--in short, you are +generous--you--you--Oh, deceive me not! Do you love her still?--Can you +--do you love the humble, foolish Fanny?" + +"As God shall judge me, sweet one, I am sincere! I have survived a +passion--never so deep, so tender, so entire as that I now feel for you! +And, oh, Fanny, hear this true confession. It was you--you to whom my +heart turned before I saw Camilla!--against that impulse I struggled in +the blindness of a haughty error!" + +Fanny uttered a low and suppressed cry of delight and rapture. Philip +passionately continued,-- + +"Fanny, make blessed the life you have saved. Fate destined us for each +other. Fate for me has ripened your sweet mind. Fate for you has +softened this rugged heart. We may have yet much to bear and much to +learn. We will console and teach each other!" + +He drew her to his breast as he spoke--drew her trembling, blushing, +confused, but no more reluctant; and there, by the GRAVE that had been +so memorable a scene in their common history, were murmured those vows in +which all this world knows of human happiness is treasured and recorded-- +love that takes the sting from grief, and faith that gives eternity to +love. All silent, yet all serene around them! Above, the heaven,--at +their feet, the grave:--For the love, the grave!--for the faith, the +heaven! + + + + +CHAPTER THE LAST. + + "A labore reclinat otium."--HORAT. + + [Leisure unbends itself from labour.] + +I feel that there is some justice in the affection the general reader +entertains for the old-fashioned and now somewhat obsolete custom, of +giving to him, at the close of a work, the latest news of those who +sought his acquaintance through its progress. + +The weak but well-meaning Smith, no more oppressed by the evil +influence of his brother, has continued to pass his days in comfort and +respectability on the income settled on him by Philip Beaufort. Mr. and +Mrs. Roger Morton still live, and have just resigned their business to +their eldest son; retiring themselves to a small villa adjoining the town +in which they had made their fortune. Mrs. Morton is very apt, when she +goes out to tea, to talk of her dear deceased sister-in-law, the late +Mrs. Beaufort, and of her own remarkable kindness to her nephew when a +little boy. She observes that, in fact, the young men owe everything to +Mr. Roger and herself; and, indeed, though Sidney was never of a grateful +disposition, and has not been near her since, yet the elder brother, the +Mr. Beaufort, always evinces his respect to them by the yearly present of +a fat buck. She then comments on the ups and downs of life; and observes +that it is a pity her son Tom preferred the medical profession to the +church. Their cousin, Mr. Beaufort, has two livings. To all this Mr. +Roger says nothing, except an occasional "Thank Heaven, I want no man's +help! I am as well to do as my neighbours. But that's neither here nor +there." + +There are some readers--they who do not thoroughly consider the truths of +this life--who will yet ask, "But how is Lord Lilburne punished?" +Punished?--ay, and indeed, how? The world, and not the poet, must answer +that question. Crime is punished from without. If Vice is punished, it +must be from within. The Lilburnes of this hollow world are not to be +pelted with the soft roses of poetical justice. They who ask why he is +not punished may be the first to doff the hat to the equipage in which my +lord lolls through the streets! The only offence he habitually committed +of a nature to bring the penalties of detection, he renounced the moment +he perceived there was clanger of discovery! he gambled no more after +Philip's hint. He was one of those, some years after, most bitter upon +a certain nobleman charged with unfair play--one of those who took the +accusation as proved; and whose authority settled all disputes thereon. + +But, if no thunderbolt falls on Lord Lilburne's head--if he is fated +still to eat, and drink, and to die on his bed, he may yet taste the +ashes of the Dead Sea fruit which his hands have culled. He is grown +old. His infirmities increase upon him; his sole resources of pleasure +--the senses--are dried up. For him there is no longer savour in the +viands, or sparkle in the wine,--man delights him not, nor woman neither. +He is alone with Old Age, and in the sight of Death. + +With the exception of Simon, who died in his chair not many days after +Sidney's marriage, Robert Beaufort is the only one among the more +important agents left at the last scene of this history who has passed +from our mortal stage. + +After the marriage of his daughter he for some time moped and drooped. +But Philip learned from Mr. Blackwell of the will that Robert had made +previously to the lawsuit; and by which, had the lawsuit failed, his +rights would yet have been preserved to him. Deeply moved by a +generosity he could not have expected from his uncle, and not pausing +to inquire too closely how far it was to be traced to the influence of +Arthur, Philip so warmly expressed his gratitude, and so surrounded Mr. +Beaufort with affectionate attentions, that the poor man began to recover +his self-respect,--began even to regard the nephew he had so long +dreaded, as a son,--to forgive him for not marrying Camilla. And, +perhaps, to his astonishment, an act in his life for which the customs of +the world (that never favour natural ties not previously sanctioned by +the legal) would have rather censured than praised, became his +consolation; and the memory he was most proud to recall. He gradually +recovered his spirits; he was very fond of looking over that will: he +carefully preserved it: he even flattered himself that it was necessary +to preserve Philip from all possible litigation hereafter; for if the +estates were not legally Philip's, why, then, they were his to dispose of +as he pleased. He was never more happy than when his successor was by +his side; and was certainly a more cheerful and, I doubt not, a better +man--during the few years in which he survived the law-suit--than ever he +had been before. He died--still member for the county, and still quoted +as a pattern to county members--in Philip's arms; and on his lips there +was a smile that even Lilburne would have called sincere. + +Mrs. Beaufort, after her husband's death, established herself in London; +and could never be persuaded to visit Beaufort Court. She took a +companion, who more than replaced, in her eyes, the absence of Camilla. + +And Camilla-Spencer-Sidney. They live still by the gentle Lake, happy in +their own serene joys and graceful leisure; shunning alike ambition and +its trials, action and its sharp vicissitudes; envying no one, covetous +of nothing; making around them, in the working world, something of the +old pastoral and golden holiday. If Camilla had at one time wavered in +her allegiance to Sidney, her good and simple heart has long since been +entirely regained by his devotion; and, as might be expected from her +disposition, she loved him better after marriage than before. + +Philip had gone through severer trials than Sidney. But, had their +earlier fates been reversed, and that spirit, in youth so haughty and +self-willed, been lapped in ease and luxury, would Philip now be a better +or a happier man? Perhaps, too, for a less tranquil existence than his +brother, Philip yet may be reserved; but, in proportion to the uses of +our destiny, do we repose or toil: he who never knows pain knows but the +half of pleasure. The lot of whatever is most noble on the earth below +falls not amidst the rosy Gardels of the Epicurean. We may envy the man +who enjoys and rests; but the smile of Heaven settles rather on the front +of him who labours and aspires. + +And did Philip ever regret the circumstances that had given him Fanny for +the partner of his life? To some who take their notions of the Ideal +from the conventional rules of romance, rather than from their own +perceptions of what is true, this narrative would have been more pleasing +had Philip never loved but Fanny. But all that had led to that love had +only served to render it more enduring and concentred. Man's strongest +and worthiest affection is his last--is the one that unites and embodies +all his past dreams of what is excellent--the one from which Hope springs +out the brighter from former disappointments--the one in which the +MEMORIES are the most tender and the most abundant--the one which, +replacing all others, nothing hereafter can replace. + + . . . . . . + +And now ere the scene closes, and the audience, whom perhaps the actors +may have interested for a while, disperse, to forget amidst the pursuits +of actual life the Shadows that have amused an hour, or beguiled a care, +let the curtain fall on one happy picture:-- + +It is some years after the marriage of Philip and Fanny. It is a summer +morning. In a small old-fashioned room at Beaufort Court, with its +casements open to the gardens, stood Philip, having just entered; and +near the window sat Fanny, his boy by her side. She was at the mother's +hardest task--the first lessons to the first-born child; and as the boy +looked up at her sweet earnest face with a smile of intelligence on his +own, you might have seen at a glance how well understood were the teacher +and the pupil. Yes: whatever might have been wanting in the Virgin to +the full development of mind, the cares of the mother had supplied. When +a being was born to lean on her alone--dependent on her providence for +life--then hour after hour, step after step, in the progress of infant +destinies, had the reason of the mother grown in the child's growth, +adapting itself to each want that it must foresee, and taking its +perfectness and completion from the breath of the New Love! + +The child caught sight of Philip and rushed to embrace him. + +"See!" whispered Fanny, as she also hung upon him, and strange +recollections of her own mysterious childhood crowded upon her,--"See," +whispered she, with a blush half of shame and half of pride, "the poor +idiot girl is the teacher of your child!" + +"And," answered Philip, "whether for child or mother, what teacher is +like Love?" + +Thus saying, he took the boy into his arms; and, as he bent over those +rosy cheeks, Fanny saw, from the movement of his lips and the moisture in +his eyes, that he blessed God. He looked upon the mother's face, he +glanced round on the flowers and foliage of the luxurious summer, and +again he blessed God: And without and within, it was Light and MORNING! + +THE END. + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, NIGHT AND MORNING, *** +By Edward Bulwer Lytton + +**** This file should be named b195w10.txt or b195w10.zip **** + +Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, b195w11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, b195w10a.txt + +This eBook was produced by David Widger [widger@cecomet.net] + +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. Thus, we usually do not +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +We are now trying to release all our eBooks one year in advance +of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. +Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections, +even years after the official publication date. + +Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg eBooks is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. + +Most people start at our Web sites at: +http://gutenberg.net or +http://promo.net/pg + +These Web sites include award-winning information about Project +Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new +eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!). + + +Those of you who want to download any eBook before announcement +can get to them as follows, and just download by date. This is +also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the +indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an +announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter. + +http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext03 or +ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext03 + +Or /etext02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90 + +Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want, +as it appears in our Newsletters. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours +to get any eBook selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. Our +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If the value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour in 2002 as we release over 100 new text +files per month: 1240 more eBooks in 2001 for a total of 4000+ +We are already on our way to trying for 2000 more eBooks in 2002 +If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total +will reach over half a trillion eBooks given away by year's end. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away 1 Trillion eBooks! +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users. + +Here is the briefest record of our progress (* means estimated): + +eBooks Year Month + + 1 1971 July + 10 1991 January + 100 1994 January + 1000 1997 August + 1500 1998 October + 2000 1999 December + 2500 2000 December + 3000 2001 November + 4000 2001 October/November + 6000 2002 December* + 9000 2003 November* +10000 2004 January* + + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created +to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +As of February, 2002, contributions are being solicited from people +and organizations in: Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut, +Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Illinois, +Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts, +Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New +Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, +Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South +Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West +Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming. + +We have filed in all 50 states now, but these are the only ones +that have responded. + +As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list +will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states. +Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state. + +In answer to various questions we have received on this: + +We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally +request donations in all 50 states. If your state is not listed and +you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have, +just ask. + +While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are +not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting +donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to +donate. + +International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about +how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made +deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are +ways. + +Donations by check or money order may be sent to: + +Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +PMB 113 +1739 University Ave. +Oxford, MS 38655-4109 + +Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment +method other than by check or money order. + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by +the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN +[Employee Identification Number] 64-622154. Donations are +tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law. As fund-raising +requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be +made and fund-raising will begin in the additional states. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +You can get up to date donation information online at: + +http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html + + +*** + +If you can't reach Project Gutenberg, +you can always email directly to: + +Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> + +Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message. + +We would prefer to send you information by email. + + +**The Legal Small Print** + + +(Three Pages) + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this eBook, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you may distribute copies of this eBook if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS EBOOK +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +eBook, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this eBook by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this eBook on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM EBOOKS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBooks, +is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart +through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project"). +Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this eBook +under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market +any commercial products without permission. + +To create these eBooks, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's eBooks and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other eBook medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may +receive this eBook from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook) disclaims +all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this eBook within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS EBOOK IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE EBOOK OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation, +and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated +with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm +texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including +legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the +following that you do or cause: [1] distribution of this eBook, +[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the eBook, +or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this eBook electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + eBook or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this eBook in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word + processing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The eBook, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The eBook may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the eBook (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + eBook in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the eBook refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the + gross profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation" + the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were + legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent + periodic) tax return. Please contact us beforehand to + let us know your plans and to work out the details. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of +public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed +in machine readable form. + +The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time, +public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses. +Money should be paid to the: +"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or +software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at: +hart@pobox.com + +[Portions of this eBook's header and trailer may be reprinted only +when distributed free of all fees. Copyright (C) 2001, 2002 by +Michael S. Hart. Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be +used in any sales of Project Gutenberg eBooks or other materials be +they hardware or software or any other related product without +express permission.] + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* diff --git a/old/b195w10.zip b/old/b195w10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d921b2b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/b195w10.zip |