RAPHAEL.
I might call him
Something divine, for nothing natural
I ever saw so noble.--SHAKESPEARE.
When she woke up, the sun was streaming in at the unshaded windows, and
by its blaze of light she saw that two of the women had left the room,
and left no one with her except Gentiliska.
The girl was up, and was making what shift she could to wash her face
with the aid of a tin basin, a stone ewer, and a crash towel, all of
which, for want of a wash-stand, were placed upon the bare floor.
When she had finished washing, she carefully emptied the contents of the
basin out of the window, and refilled it again with fresh water for
Sybil. Then, happening to turn around, she discovered that her guest was
awake.
"You rested well," she said, with a smile.
"Yes, for I was worn out. This is the first night in four that I have
laid down, and the second night in eight," answered Sybil.
"My gracious goodness! How could you stand it? You cannot be rested yet.
You had better lie a bed longer."
"No, I would rather get up," said Sybil, rising.
As on a former occasion, the girl attended the lady at her rude toilet,
rendering the assistance of a dressing maid.
Just before they left the room, Gentiliska, chancing to look out of the
window, uttered an exclamation of surprise and delight.
"What is it?" inquired Sybil.
"The captain's son! Oh! a beautiful boy, Mrs. Berners! An angel among
devils! He has been gone so long! And now he has unexpectedly come back
again. Look, Mrs. Berners! Oh! how I do wish somebody would deliver this
boy from this band! would save this pure young soul alive!" exclaimed
Gentiliska, with more feeling than Sybil had ever seen her display.
Following the glance of the girl's eye, the lady looked from the window.
Prepared as she had been by Gentiliska's praise to behold a boy of rare
beauty, she was really startled by the angelic loveliness of the lad
before her.
The charm was not alone in the soft bright golden hair that shone like a
halo around the fair, open forehead, nor in the straight brown
eye-brows, nor the clear blue eyes, nor the sweet serious mouth, nor in
the delicate blooming complexion; it was also in the expression of
earnest candor and trusting love that beamed from every feature of that
beautiful face.
"Yes, indeed; he looks like a seraph. What is his name?" inquired Sybil,
in a burst of admiration.
"It is Raphael."
"'Raphael!' an appropriate name. So might have looked the child-artist
Raphael, in his brightest days on earth. So may seem the love-angel
Raphael, to those who see him in their dreams," said Sybil, gazing, as
if spell-bound, on the beauty of the boy.
"There, he has passed in. Now let us go down to breakfast, where we
shall meet the little darling again. But look here! let me give you one
warning; take no notice of that child in his father's presence. Captain
Inconnu is intensely jealous of his beautiful boy, and visits that black
passion upon the poor lad's head," said Gentiliska, as they went below.
"Jealous of a boy of fourteen? (and the lad cannot be more;) what a
wretch!" cried Sybil, in honest indignation, as she followed her
conductress down stairs.
Breakfast was served in the back parlor, in the same rude style as the
supper of the night before had been.
As Sybil and Gentiliska entered the room, the captain left a group of
men among whom he had been standing, came forward, bade the lady
good-morning, took her hand and led her to a seat--not at the table, but
at the table-cloth, which, lacking a board, was laid as on the evening
previous, upon the bare floor. The captain seated himself beside his
guest, and the other members of the band took their places at the meal.
Sybil noticed that young Raphael was among them. But Captain Inconnu
vouchsafed neither word nor glance to his son, and no other one presumed
to present him to the lady guest.
Yet at that breakfast Sybil made a most innocent conquest. The boy, who
had seen very few young girls in his life, and had never seen so
beautiful a woman as Sybil, at first sight fell purely in love with her,
for the sake of whose sweet face he felt he could die a thousand deaths,
without ever even dreaming of such a reward as to be permitted to kiss
her hand!
What woman does not know at once when a life has been silently laid at
her feet? Sybil surely knew and felt that this fair boy's heart and soul
were hers for life or death. "He loved her with that love which was his
doom."
And what beautiful woman of twenty years old, is not careless and cruel
in her dealings with her boy worshipper of fourteen? She may perceive,
but she never appreciates the pure devotion.
Sybil, the most magnanimous among women, was perfectly incapable of any
other selfish act, under any other circumstances; but yet she coolly
resolved to improve her power over this fair boy, and to use his
devotion for her own purpose of escaping from the band and delivering
herself up to the authorities--never once thinking of the pain and peril
she would bring upon her young votary.
But she was very cautious in her conduct towards him. She kept in mind
the warning that had been given her by Gentiliska, and took care to
bestow neither word nor look upon the lad, while in the company of
Captain Inconnu.
When breakfast was over, all the band dispersed about their various
business, with the exception of Raphael, who, with pencil and portfolio,
strolled about the forsaken grounds, or sat down on fragments of rock to
sketch picturesque points in the scenery, and Captain Inconnu, who
intercepted Sybil as she was going to her room and requested a few
moments' private conversation with her.
Sybil thought it the best policy to grant the Captain's request. So she
permitted him to lead her into the unfurnished front parlor, where for
the want of a chair or a sofa, he put her in the low window seat.
"I had the honor of telling you yesterday, madam, that if you should be
pleased to do so, we would talk further, to-day, upon the subject of
your return to the world," began the rather too courteous captain.
Sybil bowed in silence.
"I am here now, at your orders, for that purpose."
Again Sybil bent her head in acknowledgment of this politeness.
"And first I would inquire," said the captain, with a singular smile,
"whether, after having slept upon the question, as I advised you to do,
you are still in the same mind?"
"Not exactly," replied Sybil, truthfully but evasively; for though she
was still firmly resolved to give herself up to justice, she had changed
her plan of proceeding.
"Ah!" commented the captain, with an expression that proved how much he
had mistaken the lady's meaning--"ah! I thought a night's repose and a
morning's cool reflection would bring you to a more rational
consideration of the question."
Sybil answered his smile, but left him in his error, and presently said
to him:
"Captain, I have a question to ask you."
"Proceed, madam! I am entirely at your commands," said the captain with
a bow.
"Supposing that I had remained in the same mind that I was in yesterday,
and that I still persisted in my purpose of leaving your band, and
giving myself up to take my trial, would you have assisted me, or would
you have hindered me?"
"Mrs. Berners, your purpose was a suicidal one! Your question means
simply this: If you were bent upon self-destruction, would I help you or
hinder you in your determination? Of course there can be but one answer
to such a question. I should employ every power of my mind and body to
prevent you from destroying yourself."
That was all Sybil wanted to know. She felt now that her only hope was
in the boy.
Smilingly she arose and excused herself to the captain, who soon after
left the room.
But not until she knew that he had mounted his horse and ridden away
from the house, did Mrs. Berners begin to put her plan in practice.
She was playing a desperate game, and she knew it. The heaviest stake
was that fair boy's fate.
She knew that the robber captain would never permit her to take what he
chose to term the "suicidal" step of delivering herself up to justice.
She therefore knew that she must act without his knowledge, as well as
without his help.
But she did not know her present locality, or even its bearings in
relation to the county seat, Blackville; and therefore, before she could
set out to seek that place, she must enlist the sympathies and services
of some one who would be able to guide her to that town.
There was no one to be found for such a purpose but Raphael, the
captain's son, and her own adorer. Regardless of all consequences to
him, since it was to save her own honor, she resolved to enlist the boy.
And to effect her purpose, she felt that she must begin at once. So she
walked out upon the neglected and briar-grown grounds, and strolled
around until, "accidentally on purpose," she came upon the boy as he sat
sketching. He started up, confused and blushing, and stood with downcast
eyes, before the goddess of his secret idolatry.
"Please take your seat again, and I will sit beside you," said Sybil, in
a gentle tone.
Raphael was a very perfect little gentleman, and so he bowed and
remained uncovered and standing, until Sybil took her seat. Then, with
another bow, he placed himself beside her.
"You have been sketching. Will you permit me to look at your sketches?"
inquired the lady.
With a deferential bend of the head, the boy placed his specimens in her
hand.
They were really very fine, and Sybil could praise them with sincerity
as well as with excess.
"You are an enthusiast in art," she said.
"_Until to-day_," replied Raphael, with a meaning glance. "Until to-day,
my one sole aspiration in life was to become an artist-painter!"
"And why until to-day? How has to-day changed your purpose?" softly
inquired Sybil.
The boy dropped his eyes, blushed, and shivered, and at length replied:
"Because to-day I have a loftier aspiration!"
"A loftier aspiration than for excellence in art there cannot be," said
Sybil, gravely.
The lad could not and did not contradict her. But she understood as well
as if he had explained, that his "loftier aspiration" was to serve and
to please herself.
She carefully examined his sketches, and praised his natural genius. And
he listened to her commendations in breathless delight.
At length he ventured to ask her:
"Do you, madam, who so much appreciate my poor attempts, do you also
sketch from nature?"
"Ah, no," answered Sybil, with a heavy sigh; "since my captivity here, I
have lost all interest in my own work! My only aspiration is for
freedom!"
Raphael looked up at the lady, amazement now taking the place of the
deep deference of his expression.
"You seem surprised," said Sybil, with a smile.
"I am very much astonished," replied the lad. And his eloquent and
ever-changing countenance said, as plainly as if he had spoken, "I knew
the captain was an evil man, but I did not know that he was a base one."
"Were you not aware that I am a captive of this band?" next inquired
Sybil.
"No, madam; I thought that you had been rescued by our men from the
officers of the law. I thought that you were in refuge with us, from a
false and fatal charge."
"Your thoughts were partly correct. I was rescued from the bailiffs by
Captain Inconnu's band. And I do suffer under a false charge. But,
Raphael, what think you? Do you not think that a false charge should be
bravely met, answered, and put down? Would not you, if you were falsely
charged with any criminal act, bravely go forward to answer it in your
innocence, rather than run away from it as if you were guilty?"
"Oh, indeed I would!" answered the youth, earnestly.
"I knew it. Your face assures me that you would neither commit a
dishonorable act, nor rest one moment under a dishonoring charge."
The lad thrilled and glowed under the lovely lady's praise, and felt
that he must do all he could to merit it. He could find no words good
enough to reply to her, but he lifted his cap and bowed deeply.
"You understand me, Raphael! But I will confide still further in you. I
will tell you that when that terrible tragedy was enacted at Black Hall,
and I was so deeply compromised by circumstances in the crime, I wished
to stay and face out the false charge; but I yielded to the persuasions
of those who loved me more than life, and sometimes I think more than
honor! And I fled with my husband. Since that first flight, Raphael, I
have led the hiding and hunted life of an outlaw and a criminal!
Raphael, my cheeks burn when I think of it! Raphael, I am a Berners! I
can live this life no longer! Come what will of it, I wish to give
myself up to justice! Better to die a martyr's death than live an
outlaw's life!"
"Oh, madam--!"
It was all the boy could bring out in words. But he clasped his hands,
and gazed on her with an infinite compassion, deference, and devotion in
his clear, candid, earnest blue eyes.
Sybil felt that she had gone a step too far in talking of her "martyr's
death" to this sensitive young soul. So she hastened to add:
"But I have no fear of such a fatal consummation. The charge against me
is so preposterous that, on being fairly met, it must disappear. And
now, my young friend, I must tell you that I do thank Captain Inconnu
and his men for rescuing me from the bailiffs, since it prevented me
from suffering the ignominy of being forced to go to trial, and will
give me the opportunity of going by my own free will. But I do _not_
thank them for detaining me here to the detriment of my honor, when I
wish to secure that honor by frankly giving myself up to justice. I am
sure you comprehend me, Raphael?"
"I do, madam; but still I cannot conceive why the captain should oppose
your wish to go to trial."
"It is enough that he does oppose it," replied Sybil, who could not tell
this lad that his father, being the real criminal, was unwilling that
she should suffer for his crime.
"You are certain, madam, that he would do so?" inquired the boy
dubiously.
"I am quite certain; for I put the question to him this morning."
"Lady, what would you like to do first?"
"To escape from this place, go to Blackville, give myself up to the
judge, and demand to be cleared from this foul charge by a public
trial."
"But are you sure that such a trial would result in your complete
vindication, and restoration to your home and happiness?"
"As sure as innocence can be of acquittal!"
The boy suddenly got up and knelt at her feet.
"Lady, what would you have me to do? Command me, for life or for death."
"Thanks, dear young friend, you are a true knight."
"But what would you have me to do?"
"Help me to escape from this place, escort me to Blackville, and attend
me to the judge's house."
"I will do so! When shall we start?"
"Let me see--how far is Blackville from this place?"
"About five miles."
"And how is the road?"
"As bad as a road can be."
"Could we reach the village on foot?"
"Better on foot than in a carriage, or on horseback; because the foot
way is shorter. By the road it is five miles; by a foot-path that I
know, which is almost a bee-line, it is not more than half that
distance."
"We will go on foot, then," said Sybil, rising.
"When?" inquired the lad, following her example.
"Now. We will set out at once! No one notices our position now. If we
were to return to the house, we might be observed and watched."
"I am ready," said the boy, closing his portfolio, and hiding it under a
flat piece of rock, where he thought it would be equally safe from
trespassers and from the elements.
"Let us go," said Sybil.
"This way then, madam," replied the lad, leading the way to the woods.
"I have another reason for haste," Sybil explained as they went on. "I
know that the court is now in session at Blackville, and that the judge
has rooms at the hotel. I know also that the court takes a recess at one
o'clock. It is now eleven; if we make moderate haste, we can reach the
village in time to find the judge and secure an immediate interview. Do
you not think so?"
"Oh yes, madam, certainly."
"Does this path become more difficult as we descend?" inquired Sybil, as
they threaded their way along an obscure, disused foot-path, leading
down the narrow thickly wooded valley.
"Oh, no, madam, not more difficult, but much less so. It is a very, very
gradual descent down to the outlet of the valley. By the way, did you
ever observe, Mrs. Berners, how much all these long, narrow, tortuous
vales between the spurs of the mountains, and leading down to the great
valley, resemble the beds of water-courses emptying into some great
river?" inquired the boy artist, looking with interest into the face of
his companion.
"Oh yes, and many geologists declare them to have been really such,"
replied Sybil.
In such discourse as this, they beguiled the hour and a half that they
spent in walking down this hidden valley to its opening near the
ferry-house, on the Black river, opposite to Blackville.
Here, while waiting for the boat, which was on the other side, Sybil
drew her thick black veil closely over her face, and whispered to her
companion:
"I would not, upon any account, be recognized until I get before the
judge. So I will keep my face covered, and my lips closed. You must make
all the necessary inquiries, and do all the talking."
"I will do anything on earth to serve you, lady," replied the lad,
lifting his hat.
"And now here it comes," whispered Sybil, as the ferry-boat touched the
shore.
He handed her in, and placed her on a comfortable seat.
After that Sybil never removed her veil or opened her lips. But the boy
talked a little with the ferry-man until they reached the opposite
shore.
They landed, and went immediately up to the hotel.
"Is Judge Ruthven in?" inquired the lad.
"Yes, sir," answered the waiter.
"Is he disengaged?"
"I will see, sir. He has just finished luncheon," answered the man.
"Tell him that a lady wishes to speak to him on important business,"
said the boy.
The waiter left the room, and after an absence of five minutes returned
to say that the judge would see the lady, and that he, the waiter, would
show her up.
"This may be my last hour of freedom in this world!" murmured Sybil to
herself, as, preceded by the waiter and attended by her escort, she went
up stairs.
The door of a private parlor was thrown open, and Sybil Berners entered
and stood before her judge.