Cold and fresh was the morning air, and the open window invited the
sounds of country life. Who could think of fever with the bright dew
sparkling on the lawn, the lilac buds growing fat enough to claim their
right of shadow, the pleasant ring of the sharpening scythe, and the
swishing sweep of the swathe? From the stable-yard, round the corner,
came the soothing hiss of the grooms, the short stamp of the lively
steed (I fancied I knew my own favourite "Lilla"), and the gruff "Stand
still, mare, wull'e?" Far down the avenue whistled the cowboy,
waddle-footed, on his way to the clover leys, or the milkmaid sung with
the pail on her hip, and the deer came trooping and stooping their horns
along. Was it not one of my own pet robins, who hopped on the
window-sill, peered bravely at himself in the jug, and tried to remember
the last of his winter notes?
But it is cold, Jane, very cold indeed; and we have never been to bed;
and now the mowers have descried us, why do they stop their work, and
shake their heads together so, and keep outside the ranunculus bed, and
agree that the grass beneath our windows does not require cutting? Why,
if they were Papists, they would cross themselves, and that saves many
an oath. But the grass does want cutting, Jane. It cannot have been
cut for a week. I will call to them. No, it might disturb my uncle.
There is no sound from the bed-room yet: all deep and deadly silence. I
will go and see.
There my patient lies, just as when I saw him first, except that I have
arranged the wreck of his hoary locks, and applied a lotion to his
temple on the burning side. And yet, now I look closer, the face is not
quite so livid; or is it the difference between the candle-light and the
morning ray?
Even while I looked, he started up, as if my eyes revived him. He did
not moan or cry; but opened wide his filmy eyes, and gazed feebly and
placidly at me. For a time he did not know me: then a great change
gradually crept through his long faltering gaze. Fearing the effects of
excitement upon him, I tried to divert his attention by another good
dose of yeast. Three times he took it with resignation like a
well-trained child, but his eyes all the time intent on me. Presently
they began to swim and swerve; the effort of the faint blood-tissued
brain and the exertion of swallowing had been too much for his shattered
powers. He fell off again into the comatose state, but with a palpable
difference. The pulse, which had throbbed on the hot side only, could
now be felt most feebly moving in the other wrist, and the tension of
the muscles was relaxed: circulation was being restored and balanced,
and the breathing could now be traced, short as it was and irregular.
I have not time to describe all the symptoms of gradual improvement, and
I have not the medical knowledge needful to do so clearly. Enough that
the six-hour interval was shortened that day by half, that the breathing
became more regular, and a soft perspiration broke through the clogged
and clammy pores. Jane wanted to second this by an additional blanket,
but I feared to allow it in a case of so utter prostration. When the
perspiration was over, then I prescribed the blanket for fear of a chill
reaction.
At every return of consciousness, our patient made an effort to speak,
but I hushed him with my hand on his lips, and he even managed to smile,
when he found that I would be obeyed. In the evening he tried to open
his arms to me, and then tried to push me away, in some faint
recollection of the nature of his disorder. To me the interest was so
intense, and the delight so deep, that if I had lost him now, it would
surely have broken my heart.
At sunset of that day, as nurse and I sat near the dressing-room window,
watching the slant rays flickering on the sward, and the rooks alighting
and swinging over their noisy nests, a black cloud hung for a moment
just above the sun, a black cloud with a vivid edge of gold. It
tempered the light in a peculiar manner, and seemed to throw it
downwards. Peering through my fingers at it, for it was very beautiful,
I saw a whitish mist or vapour steaming and hovering above the disk of
the setting sun, between my eyes and that golden marge. I wondered what
this could be; there was no heat to cause strong evaporation, nor any
mist or dewy haze about, nor was the sun "drawing water." But what I
saw was like that trembling twinkle of the air, which we often observe
on a meadow footpath in the hot forenoon of July. I drew Jane's
attention to it, not expecting any solution, but just for something to
say.
"Dear me, Miss, don't you know what that is? I see it every evening; it
will be twice as plain when the sun goes down, and then it will be quite
white."
"Well, what is it? Why can't you tell me? Is everything here a
secret?"
I was rather irritable, but vexed with myself for being so. Too much
excitement and too little sleep were the causes.
"No, Miss, there's no secret at all about that. Every one knows what
that is. It's only the scum that rises through the grass from the
arched pool that takes all the drains of the house. Some of the arch
fell in they say, and the ground shakes when they mow it; they are
afraid to roll there."
"Is it possible? And you knew it, a practised nurse like you! Did my
uncle know it?"
"I am sure, Miss, I can't tell: most likely not, or he would have had it
mended, he hates things out of repair. But it can't do any harm, with
the mould and the grass above it."
"Can't it indeed? And you can see it rise. Shut all the bedroom
windows in a moment, Jane. I'll shut this."
She thought my wits were wandering, from what I had gone through;
nevertheless she obeyed me.
It happened that I had attended, at Isola's urgent request, one lecture
of the many delivered by Dr. Ross. She forgot what the subject was to
be. It proved to be an unsavoury and "unlady-like" one--Mephitis.
Isola wanted to run away, but I have none of that nonsense about me,
when human life is concerned, and listened with great attention, and
even admiration; for he handled the matter eloquently and well.
"Now, Jane, throw all the doors open, and the lobby window that looks in
the other direction. When do you think it will be possible to move our
poor patient from these rooms? The air here is deadly poison."
"Well I'm sure, Miss! And he couldn't have a nicer nor a more airy
room; and all my things in order too, and so handy, and so many
cupboards!"
"Out of this poison he must go. When can he be moved?"
"Well, Miss, he might be moved to-morrow, if we could only get plenty of
hands, and do it cleverly."
"Surely we can have plenty of hands. There used to be twenty-five
servants here; and I have not heard that my uncle has lessened the
number."
"No, Miss; but save and keep us, we shan't get one of them here."
"Nonsense! I will have them, or they leave the house. Of course I
won't peril their lives. We shall only want two or three; and they may
take a bath of disinfecting stuff, with all their clothes on, before
they come; and they may smoke all the while."
The nurse laughed grimly, and shook her gray head.
"And we will fumigate, Jane, fumigate tremendously. Surely Englishmen
have more self-respect than to be such babies, and you a woman, and I a
girl, shaming them out of face."
"It doesn't matter, Miss; they won't come. I know them well, the lot I
mean that are in the house now."
"Very well, Jane, we'll have Gamekeeper Hiatt, and his eldest son; they
are men I know. And if that is not enough, we'll send to Gloucester for
Thomas Henwood. But why don't you open the lobby door, as I told you?"
"If you please, Miss, I can't. They have fastened it outside."
"Do you mean to say that they have dared to lock us in?"
"Indeed I do, Miss; we have been fastened in since the morning."
"And pray, why did you not tell me?'
"Because I feared to excite you, Miss. I know your temper when you are
wronged, ever since you was that high; and in this fever air, excitement
is sure to kill you. Brutes! But I suppose they don't know it."
"They know it well; at least the master-spirit does. And for that very
reason I will crush my indignation. Since I was that high, Jane, I have
passed through much tribulation, and have dropped my lady-heiress tone.
I can now command myself."
"Then, Miss, I will show you what they sent this morning, round the
handle of the coffee-jug. I was afraid to let you see it before." She
gave me a twist of paper, on which was written as follows:--
"For the safety of the household, Mrs. Fletcher orders that the persons
in the fever-room be allowed no communication with the other servants.
The intercepting door is fastened, because a most sinful un-Christian
act was perpetrated last night. Due supplies will be delivered once
a-day, at 10 A.M. No empty vessels and no correspondence received. Any
attempt to break these rules will be punished by suspension of supplies.
Servants are forbidden to come beneath the sick-room windows. May the
Lord have you in His keeping, in His tender mercy, according to His holy
will. You are requested to read Philippians i. 8-11 inclusive. There
are three holy bibles on the drawers and dressing-tables."
When I had read this, and perceived, by the blasphemy at the end, that
it could proceed from no other than that awful woman, I confess that my
spirit was cowed within me. Not from selfish fear, nor yet from the
taming of passion, but from the lowering thought that I belonged to the
same race of being as the author of such Satanity. Presently, I became
too indignant to speak, or even think. It added, if that were possible,
to my indignation, that I had seen her leave the house, about nine
o'clock that morning, in our best close carriage. She kept the windows
up until she was past the lawn and the light iron gates, beyond the
arcade of roses; then, at the first turn in the avenue, she let down the
glass and gracefully kissed her hand to me. I did not believe, however,
that she was gone back to Cheltenham. With so much at stake in our
house, and depending on her direction, she would surely stop in the
neighbourhood, if only to watch the course of events.
Sooner than I dared to expect, I regained the command of myself; horror
within me was stronger than wrath, and stronger than either became the
resolve to survive and win. "There can be no God," I exclaimed, in my
presumptuous ignorance, "if this scheme of the devil is permitted to
triumph."
First I tried the door, which severed us from the rest of the house. My
uncle's rooms were in the western wing, very near those which my dear
mother had occupied, and not very far from my own. They formed one
floor of the western gable; the three bedroom windows and that of the
dressing-room looked to the west, while the great lobby window, from
which I had seen Mrs. Daldy's departure, looked southward along the
avenue, the curve of which could be seen also from the bedroom windows.
An oaken door, at the end of the main passage, cut off the rooms in this
storey of the gable from all the rest of the house. This door Jane had
left locked from the inside, fearing lest others should lock her in, as
they had threatened to do. But now we found that a strong iron bolt had
been fixed upon the outside, while we were asleep in the morning, and
that we had no chance of forcing it.
Next I asked Jane, whether she thought that the house, now Mrs. Daldy
was gone, would be still in the hands of our enemies. Would not Mrs.
Fletcher at once re-assert her authority? Might not Matilda Jenkins be
expected to fly to the rescue? The nurse, knowing all the politics of
the servants' hall, assured me that there was no hope of either of these
events. Robert, a drunken Wesleyan, turned out of the sect in
Cheltenham, was Mrs. Daldy's lieutenant, and would take all care of
Matilda, to whose good graces he had been making overture. As for Mrs.
Fletcher, she was probably in the same plight as ourselves. From what I
heard about Robert, I began to believe that he had private orders to
disown me at the station, for the double purpose of yielding a tit-bit
of insolence, and warning of my arrival.
However, that mattered very little; but out of those rooms I must get,
either by door or by window; and that, too, without delay. Do they
expect to triumph so easily over Clara Vaughan? And in her father's
house? The windows were about twenty feet from the ground, as nearly as
I could guess, and the rooms beneath were empty. At once I resolved to
attempt an escape that way, and to do so before the moon, which was
southing now, should shine on the western aspect. Good Jane was
terrified at the thought; and then, upon my persisting, implored me to
let her make the attempt, if it must be made at all.
"Now, Jane, no more, if you please. We can't waste time about that.
You have a husband partly dependent upon you, and several children to
think of. For me nobody cares." But I hoped somebody did. "And you
know I am far more active and much lighter than you are. Help me out
with the feather bed."
The little bed in the dressing-room, which she had to sleep on, was
speedily brought to the window, and dropped just underneath it. It fell
upon the grass with a pleasing and quiet flop. Then the two strong
bell-ropes, already cut down and plaited together, were tied round the
bars of the double window sashes, the lower sash being thrown up to the
full extent, the glass pressed quietly out with a pair of wet towels,
and the splinters removed, so as not to cut the rope. The latter still
failed to reach more than half-way to the ground, but I would venture
the drop if I could only descend so far. After winding a linen sheet
around my body and dress, with the end tied round one ankle, so as to
leave me free use of my limbs, I sat upon the window-sill in the broad
shadow, and calculated my chances. Should I begin the descent with
face, or with back, to the wall? Face to the wall I resolved on, for
though I should have to drop backward so, yet what I feared most of all
was having the back of my head crushed against the house. Next to this
I dreaded a sprain of the ankle, but all our family are well-knit and
straight in the joint.
So I launched myself off, beginning as gently as could be, Jane having
firm hold of one hand, until I was well on the voyage. Though not well
versed in calisthenic arts, I got on famously almost as far as the end
of the rope, keeping away from the wall by the over-saling of the
window-sill, and the rapid use of my feet. Then I rested a moment on a
projecting ledge--called, I believe, a "stringing-course"--and away hand
below hand again. But I struck my knuckles terribly against that
stringing-course, and very nearly lost hold from the pain of the blow;
then bending my body forward I gave one good push at the wall, and
shutting both eyes, I believe, let go the rope altogether. Backward I
fell, and rolled over upon the feather bed. I was not even stunned, but
feared for a moment to try if my limbs were sound.
There I sat and stripped off the winding sheet. Presently, up I got,
and, in my triumph, alas! could not help crying "All right, Hurrah!"
like a foolish little child. In a moment I saw that my cry had been
heard, where it should not have been. A rapid flitting of lights along
the lower windows and in the stableyard, and I knew that chase would be
given.
But after leaving my father's house in such a dignified manner, was it
likely that I would give in and be caught? Now, Clara, you could beat
all your nurses in running, off and away like the wind! Away I went
full speed towards the shade of the avenue, while Jane had the wit to
scream out of the window, "Help! Help! Here's the house on fire!"
This made some little diversion; I had a capital start, and it was but
half a mile to the lodge where old Whitehead lived. Once there, I
should care for nobody. I must have escaped very easily, for my feet
seemed as swift as a deer's; but, as my luck would have it, the light
iron gates between the lawn and the park were fastened. What on earth
should I do? I saw men running across the lawn, and, what was worse,
they saw me. In vain I pulled at the gates; they rattled, but would not
yield. Had I owned true presence of mind, I should have walked boldly
up to the men, and dared them to touch me fresh from the fever-room. In
the flurry of the moment I never thought of that, but darted into the
shrubbery, and crouched among thick laurels. Presently I heard them
rush down the main drive and begin the search, with some heavy swearing.
Two of them came to the very clump I was hiding in, and pushed a
pitchfork almost into my side, but the stupid fellows had lanterns,
which blinded them to the moonlight. On they went with grumblings and
growlings, which told me exactly where to shun them. Judging at length,
from the silence, that the search had passed to the right, I slipped
from my tangled lair, and glided away to the left, beyond the shrubbery
spring, where a little gate, as I knew, led to a glade in the park. The
deep ha-ha which I had feared to jump in the dark, because of the loose
stones at the bottom, was here succeeded by a high oak paling, and
probably through that gate had come the murderer of my father.
With a cold shudder at the remembrance, I stole along through the
shadowy places, and had almost reached the little gate, when I saw two
of the searchers coming straight towards me. To the right of me was the
park-paling, on the left a breastwork of sod, which I could not climb
without being clearly seen; to fly was to meet the enemy; should I
yield, and be baffled after all; insulted too, most likely, for I knew
that the men were tipsy?
In my hand was the tightly-wound sheet, used as a rope to confine my
dress. I had folded it short and carried it, on the chance of its
proving useful. In a moment I was under the palings in deep shadow,
with the white sheet thrown around me, falling from my forehead, and
draped artistically over the right arm. Stock still I stood against the
black boards, and two great coils of long black hair flowed down the
winding sheet. The men came up, tired of the chase, and grumbling; and
by their voices I knew them for my good friends Jacob and Bob.
Suddenly, they espied a tall, white figure, of tremendous aspect. They
stopped short, both tongue and foot, and I distinctly heard their teeth
chatter. With a slow and spectral motion, I raised my draped white arm,
and fetched a low, sepulchral moan. Down fell the lantern, and, with a
loud yell, away went the men, as hard as their legs could carry them.
Laughing heartily, I refolded my sheet, and taking the short cut across
the park to the lodge where old Whitehead lived, arrived, without having
met even my old friend "Tulip."
The old man, in hot indignation, drew forth his battered musket--for he
had once been in the militia--and swore that he would march upon the
---- rogues at once. Instead of that I sent him for the two Hiatts, and
the village constable; and soon, without invitation, half the village
attended. With my torn dress tucked up by good Mrs. Whitehead, and a
hat on my head, newly bought for her clean little grandchild, I set
forth again in the moonlight, at the head of a faithful army, to recover
my native home.
Hiatt easily opened the gate, which had defied my flurried efforts, and
we presented ourselves at the main entrance, a force that would frighten
a castle. It is needless to say that we carried all before us. The
state of siege was rescinded, Mrs. Fletcher and Tilly set free, all the
ringleaders turned away neck and crop, and what was far more important,
my poor uncle removed, without being conscious of it, to a sweet and
wholesome room. The sturdy Gloucestershire yeomen scorned all idea of
danger.
Tired with all my adventures, before I slept that night--still near my
uncle's bed--two reflections came dreamily over my mind.
The first was a piece of vanity. "Ah, Mrs. Daldy, you little know Clara
Vaughan!"
The second was, "Dear me, how Conrad would be astonished at this! And
how strange that his father should thus have saved my uncle's life! For
he must have died, if left in that noisome room."
CLARA VAUGHAN
BOOK IV.
CHAPTER I.
Before that week was over, my uncle could sit up in bed for a short time
every day, being duly propped in a downy nest of pillows. One arm,
however, remained quite impotent, and part of one side rigid and numb.
His recovery was slow and tedious, as might well be expected with one
who had been dragged not from the jaws but the very throat of death.
For a long time also his mind was feeble and dim, a mirror overcast by
the vapours of the body.
To me, who am fond of observing, in my own little childish way, it was
interesting as well as delightful to note how, day by day, the mind and
body, hand in hand, rose stronger. More than all was I taught, and
humbled in my own conceit, by taking heed how tardily came back the
power to guide and control the imagination. That object-glass of the
mind--not achromatic even in first-rate intellects--had long been out of
the focal distance from the lens of reason's eye. Upon it had been
glancing loose distorted images, rendered home imperfectly, if at all,
to the retina of the brain. Herein its state was the very opposite to
that of my own phrenoscope. I have no large imagination; but the images
it presents are vivid, and I see well round them. Every one of them is
not cast, but cut, on my sensorium. Whether I can strike them off in
words--whether my telegraph can print its message--is quite another
question, and beside its purpose. Having rendered home to me the idols
(oftentimes inverted, though distinct) it leaves expression and judgment
to do their best with the copyright.
Now, both in fabric and in mould, my uncle's mind was different.
Naturally his powers were far superior, but he seemed to take no pride
in them. No dark and settled purpose had ever thrown its shadow, and
even its weight, upon them; nor had they felt, so far as I knew, the
rough grasp of adversity. Therefore they were longer in recovering from
the blow, than I think my own would have been.
There were few things, among the many desired by Mrs. Daldy, which she
failed to reconcile with her strong sense of religion. "There is not
one"--I have heard her say--"not one of the things we believe to be for
our good, which we should scruple to lay before the Throne of Grace.
Even the throbbings of that little unregenerate heart"--Clara Vaughan's
to wit, who had kicked her that morning, quite by accident of
course--"even they are known and sifted there"--slight confusion of
metaphor caused by strong conviction of sin--"Infinite mercy knows the
things that be for our edification, and confirmation in the faith. Yes,
backsliding sinner, the want of real heart-felt spiritual life can be
supplied by prayer alone. Is it not so in your experience, Elder?"
"Prayer, my dear Madam, and searching of the heart. Oh the depth of the
wickedness of the unconverted heart!" And he took another glass of
sherry. That night I remember she worked very hard, for her; and the
next day she presented me with markers the size of a gallows, progged
with many holes; on one was done in cross-stitch, "Pray without
ceasing," and upon the other "Wrestle thou in prayer. Gen. xxxii. 24."
Both of these I threw into the fire there before her eyes.
From this it will be clear, that in her devotions she still remembered
me, and doubtless prayed in good Scriptural phraseology for my release
from this wicked world. Dr. Churchyard's last report had raised her
terror to the highest pitch, and instead of wrestling in prayer, she had
run away in high panic, upon hearing that the fever-nurse was seen at
large the night before. "We must use the means of grace," she said to
Mrs. Fletcher, before she locked her in, "and accept the mercies
vouchsafed to us. And it would be sinful, dear Mrs. Fletcher, in me to
neglect such a warning as this."
It was wise, as well as righteous, in her to keep aloof for a time,
while her devices worked their consummation. For the present it appeared
to me that they were failing signally. My uncle was regaining strength
of mind and body; while native air, a sense of triumph, and daily
exercise, kept me in blooming health. My patient, who otherwise could
hardly bear me to leave him for an hour, insisted upon my taking a long
ride every day. Lilla was charmed, and so was I, with the sweet spring
air, and the rich familiar scenery. And how it did make me eat!
Thankful indeed I ought to be, and am, that it pleased God to spare me
that awful and deadly pestilence. But the worst injury done by canting
hypocrites is, that the repulsion they create drives away others from
good. Truly I may say, that for days after being in contact with that
slimy sanctity, I could not say my own prayers, as a little child should
do.
Of that fever there had been three fatal cases in the village, before it
entered our house; and I found that it was spreading rapidly. With my
uncle's authority, I had the drainage surveyed and amended at once; and
so the pest was stayed. Of course we did not neglect our own weak
point; and the crawling noisome smell was no longer perceived in the
room, nor the white vapour on the grass.
And so three weeks went by; no news from London or Devonshire, no
explanation between my uncle and myself, no arrangements as to my
expectations in life. As yet my uncle was too weak to bear any sort of
excitement, and seemed desirous only to be passive in my hands. His
eyes always followed me to every part of the room, and he would even be
propped on the sofa to see me ride down the avenue; and there I always
found him watching for my return. Meanwhile I yearned to be once more
in a certain little room with a north aspect, opposite a cheesemonger's
shop in an obscure street of London. Nightly I dreamed of Giudice, and
daily I dreamed of dear Isola and Conrad. The dog in the stableyard,
who had hitherto owned no especial attractions for me, suddenly found
himself petted, and coaxed, and fed (which he thought much more of) to
the scandal of Mrs. Fletcher, and the great alarm of the grooms, who
would rather not have me there. Moreover, the dog himself, though I
strove to invest him with every chivalrous attribute, was of a low and
ungenial order, adorned with no graces of mind, and little taste, except
for bones and gravy. But perhaps my standard was too high: peradventure
I even commenced with more prejudice than a bulldog's. Be that as it
may--and if I can see round things, I ought to see round myself--every
day fell heavier and heavier from the fair balance of time; and every
night the stars--for there was now no moon--looked wearier in the
heavens, and less inclined for business. How long, how long shall you
go round the pole in your steady pacing way, as if the sky were for
auction, and you were pacing the lots; while I, with more fire in me
than you can strike or steal, am ditched like a glow-worm kicked under a
dock-leaf, and see no polestar at all?
Here is May, the height of May: I am full of life and spirit: the garb
of death, like an April cloud, blows over. Let me see. Last birthday I
was eighteen: I have known more troubles than years, and enjoyed no
youth as yet. Last year I spent in growing, and pining, and starving.
Now the Power, that balances earth and heaven, has filled me with joy
and light.
Neither am I renegade to my life, in opening wide my heart to this flood
of love and happiness. Still am I set upon one strong purpose. Still
am I sworn, and will not repent, that if filial duty demand it, I will
trample love under my feet, and cut the throat of happiness.
During most of this time, I had no idea where the queen of hypocrites
was; though doubtless she knew all that was happening to us. As soon as
he heard of my uncle's surprising rally, Dr. Churchyard came over, and
claimed all the merit for his own last prescription. Brought face to
face with the awkward fact that the medicine had not been procured, he
was not in the least disconcerted, but found that we had misunderstood
him, the prescription to which he referred was the one before the last.
At any rate, he enhanced his own fame immensely, and became
"instrumental under Providence" in killing more people than ever. In
reply to Mrs. Fletcher, for I would not deign to ask him, he stated that
the excellent and devoted Mrs. Daldy had not been seen lately in
Cheltenham. Her son, however, was there, and foremost in the ranks of
Pump-room Lady-killers. Just what he was fit for.
The doctor entertained a belief, and spread the report in Cheltenham,
that Dorcas was lodged in a humble cot among the haunts of pestilence,
imperilling her life and lavishing her substance to relieve the
fever-stricken. This being more than I could stand, I asked the worthy
doctor--who, after all, was a man of the world--what three wealthy
persons Dorcas had carried with her. At first he feigned not to
understand me, then looked sly, and changed the subject cleverly. Of
course I referred to the well-known fact, that she supported her
grandeur and her son's extravagance by playing an admirable rubber. She
was playing a better one now.
Dr. Churchyard finished by writing another prescription, which, after
his departure, I handed to the husband of Venus, legitimate disposer of
mineral medicines.
CHAPTER II.
London! London! was still the cry of my heart; and was I not summoned
thither by duty long ago? What might become, during all this time, of
the man whom I was bound to watch at every turn, and whom I was now in a
better condition to deal with? My first visit, every morning, was to my
parents' graves, and neither of them would be there but for his ruthless
hand. As I sat there how lonely I felt! how sadly forlorn in the world,
be my lot wealth or poverty, victory or defeat!
One morning as I sat there my spirit was moved by dreams of the night
before, and I vowed, in that bodily but invisible presence, that none,
except one whose name I whispered, should ever kneel on that turf hand
in hand with me.
Borne out of my usual vein by the deed myself had done, I entered the
ancient church, always left open for me, and, kneeling at the
altar-rails, with many a Vaughan supine in prayer, pennons, helms, and
trophies round me, stately dames in marble white, and old crusaders
clutching still the cross--there I made my vow upon the knee-cupped
stones, that if he claimed me not, the race should end with me.
It was a presumptuous and unholy act, with all around me quelled by
time, with ages laid aside in dust, with many a stouter heart and larger
mind than mine, helpless even to superintend the wasting of his
tenement, with all his bygone bliss and woe, stanchest love and
deadliest hate, less eloquent now than the fly whom the spider has
caught in his skull.
Returning across the park, after a warm interview with "Tulip," who
insisted mainly upon having his ears well scratched, I found my uncle in
his snug wheel-chair, waiting near the side-door for me to help and
accompany him forth. This was our best way to take him out, because of
the steps at the front-door. He had not yet been in the open air since
his terrible illness, but, judging by my own experience, I thought that
he pined for the breeze, and, after long council, it was resolved to
trust him forth this day. With all his heart he was longing to be out;
but, instead of expressing impatience, smiled gratefully at me. I now
observed that he had a sweet and winning smile--a gift bestowed not
rarely on faces of a sombre cast.
In return for it I kissed him, and we sailed smoothly out. How he
revelled, to be sure, in the first clear breath from the lips of heaven!
Stretching one poor arm forth--the other he could not move--he tried to
spread himself like a flower to the sun. Then he drew long draughts of
liquid freedom, and was for a time as one intoxicated. In the glorious
crystal bath he seemed to float away from earth. Coming to himself at
length, he looked at me, and said, "Now John may go, if he pleases." A
year ago he would have said, "Go, John," and no more. But illness is a
great refiner. When John was out of sight he allowed free vent to the
tears of joy and gratitude, whereof, in my opinion, he had no call to be
ashamed. I kissed him many times. My warm impassioned nature always
felt for and delighted in any touch like this. Then he placed his
better hand on the cold and rigid one, lifting this with that, and
poured forth silent thanks to the Giver of all things.
"Clara, darling," at length he said, "how can I ever show you a
thousandth part of my gratitude for all the lovingkindness you have
heaped on me? Coals of fire, indeed! and they have warmed my selfish
heart. With loathsome death before your face, in all the pride and
bloom of early youth and richest--"
I will not repeat his words, because it would not become me; but I am
forced by all that has happened to show what his feelings were.
"And all this for me--me who have been your bitterest enemy, who have
turned you out of your father's house, and caused your mother's death!"
Here I stopped him, lest he should be overcome.
"Dear uncle, talk no more of this--never even think of it. The fault
was all my own. You know I would not stop, often as you asked me.
There always was a bar between us, and it was my obstinacy."
"No, it was my pride. Clara, in my better mind I loved you all along.
How could I help admiring your truth and courage and devotion to your
father? Although I own that you were very bitter against me, yet, if I
had only used the proper means, I might have got the better of it. If I
had told you all my story, you would have pitied more even than
condemned me. But my pride forbade, and I made the common mistake of
regarding you as a child, because you were that in years. I forgot to
allow for the forcing powers of grief. Even now, pulled down as I am,
and humbled by the wisdom of Heaven, I cannot tell you my strange
history without the acutest pain."
"Then I am sure, uncle, I will never let you do it."
"Yes, it is my duty, and the sooner done the better. Rescued though I
am, for the present, by your wonderful courage and skill, I feel that
one more blow, even a slight one now, and time for me is ended. But if
it were God's will to cut me off to-morrow, I should die in happiness,
having made my peace, and won your kind forgiveness."
"You shall not tell me now at any rate. And I won't have you talk so,
uncle. Mind, I am head-nurse still. Now come and see how lovely the
ranunculus are getting."
I began to wheel him over the grass and gather flowers (which "he played
with like a child), to change, if possible, the current of his thoughts.
Stupid thing! I took the wrong way to do it.
"Oh, uncle dear! you will laugh at me, and say I am as bad as ever; but
as soon as you get better I want to be off again, kind and good as you
are to me."
He trembled so violently, that I feared the chair would be upset.
"What, Clara, can't you live with me even now? Everything shall be
yours, as it ought to be. I will never meddle with you in any way, but
keep to some lonely corner, and not see you very often. Oh, Clara! dear
Clara! don't go away! You know I am quite helpless, and I can't live
long, and you are all in all to me, and I am so proud of you, darling!
But it is not for myself I care. I cannot tell, much less can you, what
mischief may be done if you leave this house again. That low, crafty
woman will be back again directly--she who made cowards of all the
household, and acted the coward herself, who left me to die in my lonely
bed, while she took all my keys. If her treachery succeeds, I shall rise
from my grave. And I know she will poison me yet, if she gets the
chance, and can make anything by it."
It was the first time he had spoken to me of Mrs. Daldy, and I was
amazed at his bitterness, for I had heard of no quarrel between them.
What on earth did it mean?
"Don't go, Clara!" he implored me, with the cold sweat on his forehead,
and every line in his poor thin face a-quivering. "Don't go, my
darling, blessed Clara! I have had none to love for years and years, and
to love you is so sweet! If you go I must die at once, and, worse than
that, die wretched in the knowledge that you will be robbed."
He fell back in the chair, from which, in his excitement, he had striven
to rise, and for some minutes there he lay insensible. When I had
succeeded in bringing him to himself, he looked at me so piteously, with
so much death in his eyes, that I promised, with a sinking heart, never
to leave him more, except upon absolute necessity, until he should be
well, or need my care no longer.
He even tried to persuade me not to go to London for the things I had
left there, but to send a trusty person to pack and bring them home. To
this, however, I could not yield, feeling, as I did, that, after all my
love for Isola, and all her kindness to me, I was bound to see her and
say farewell; and what harm could there possibly be in so short an
absence? My uncle wished me to bring her down for a good long visit,
but this at such a time could not be thought of. Moreover, lively,
impulsive Idols would have grown very long-faced in a dull sick house,
which ours must be for the present. It was settled at last that I
should go to London the following Monday, stay there one entire day, and
come back the day after with all my trifling chattels. One thing more
my uncle proposed which I would not hear of. It was, that he should
transfer to me, by deed of gift, all the estate, both real and personal,
reserving only a small annuity for himself, and a sum of 10,000*l.* for
some special purpose, which he would disclose to me at leisure. Thus,
he said, he should feel as if justice had been done, and there would be
some security against Mrs. Daldy's schemes. Of the latter I felt no
fear whatever, and thought it the effect of a shaken mind that he
attached so much importance to them. Under no circumstances would I
think, for a moment, of allowing him so to divest himself. Money, to any
amount, I could have, though I wanted very little, seeing that now, once
more, a solemn duty would withdraw me from my long pursuit, and from all
the frivolities which many girls delight in. I begged my uncle to
appoint an honest steward for the estate, and to assign me a moderate
yearly allowance, which would save much trouble. To this he at last
consented, and proposed for me so large a revenue, that, after removing
the last cipher, I had more than I knew how to spend. The first thing I
did was to send the kind farmer the residue of the sum he had lent me,
together with interest at ten per cent., which did not seem excessive,
considering that he had no security.
And now, with the utmost anxiety, I looked forward to the time when my
poor uncle should be strong enough to tell me, without risk, that
history of himself which he had distinctly promised me. Surely it must
shed some light on the mystery of my own. This thought, as well as the
sense of duty, reconciled me in some measure to the suspension of my
life-long search. He would have told me everything then and there, in
his warm gratitude for my undertaking; but I durst not let him. He was
already fatigued with so much talking, and when the stimulus of the
fresh air was gone, he suffered a serious relapse.
CHAPTER III.
On the following Monday, my poor uncle being rather better again, I set
off for London, as had been determined, and arrived there late in the
afternoon. It had been proposed to send a servant with me, but I had
been too long accustomed to independence, and also had reasons of my own
for refusing. I was to receive, on the morrow, an account, by
telegraph, of my patient's health and spirits, and promised to give, in
return, some tidings of myself. Mrs. Shelfer had not been apprised of
my coming, because she would have been sure to tell Miss Isola, whom, as
well as her brother, I wished to take by surprise. Dear Isola had often
inquired about my family, but only knew that I was an orphan, much
reduced in the world, poor, and all alone. Much as I loved her, I knew
quite well that she could not keep a secret, and whenever she teased me
about my "iron mask," I retorted upon her that she had first to discover
the secret of her own home.
As we rushed towards the mighty city, what a flush was in my cheeks,
what a flutter in my heart! Whom might I not see even upon the
platform, or, at any rate, in the streets, and, poverty being removed,
what obstacle could there be between us? Not that I intended to resign
myself to affection, and lead a life of softness, until I had discharged
to the utmost my duty to the dead. Yet some sort of pledge might
pass--some surety there might be, that neither of us would feel
thereafter quite alone in the world. But how could I tell that he even
cared about me? Well, I had a strong suspicion. In some things the
eyes are the best detective police. Only I had always been so unlucky.
Was it not too good luck for me ever to be true?
Mrs. Shelfer's door was opened at my knock, not by her own little
bustling self, nor even by shock-headed and sly "Charley," but by a
short stout man of affable self-importance, with a semi-Jewish face, and
a confidential air. He had a pot of porter in one hand and a paper-roll
in the other, a greasy hat on his head, and one leg of his trousers had
lost the lower half. Upon learning my name and object, he took no
notice whatever of me, but put up his paper-roll for a trumpet, and
shouted along the passage, "Balaam, here's a kick! I'm bothered if it's
all lies, after all. Never dreamed the old gal could tell a word of
truth. Had a higher opinion of her. Blowed if the young woman herself
ain't come!"
"Easy there, Balak"--the mouth of the speaker was full--"keep the door,
I tell you. Never gets a bit of time to my victuals. She's up to a
plant, I doubt. Just let me have a squint at her." Out came another
man with a like appearance and air, and a blade-bone in his hand,
whereat he continued to gnaw throughout the interview. It was indeed a
squint with which he favoured me, and neither of them would move for me
to pass.
"Pray what is the meaning of all this?" I asked, in my grandest manner.
"Surely I have not mistaken the house I lived in. This, I believe, is
Mrs. Shelfer's house?"
Instead of answering me, they closed the door enough to put the
slide-chain on, leaving me still outside, where, with boiling
indignation, I heard myself discussed; the cabman looking on with an
experienced grin.
"Well, Balaam, now, and what do you think of that party?"
"Uncommon fine young gal, and doosed mannersome too; but it don't
follow, for all that, that the thing is on the square, you know. Have
she got any luggage, Balak?"
"No, mate. And that looks fishy, now one come to think on it. Stop,
let me have another look."
"No; leave that to me. Slip the chain out, Balak: and keep your foot
behind the door. She can't push us both in without assault and
battery."
To my shame and indignation, I was subjected to another critical
cross-fire from half drunken eyes. I turned my back and stamped in my
vexation; the cabman gave me an approving nod. This little act of mine
was so unmistakably genuine, and displayed such very nice embroidery--I
do like a tasteful petticoat--that the hard heart of Balaam was
softened; at the same moment a brilliant idea stole through his cautious
mind.
"Stop now, Balak, put your foot there. She can't push us both in, I
believe; leastways not without battery and contempt of court. Now what
do you think of this?"--And he whispered to his grimy friend.
"Well, that beats all I ever heer'd on. Let you alone for brains,
Balaam, and me for muscle and pluck!"
"Now, young lady," began Balaam in a diplomatic tone, "me and my mate
here be in a constitution of trust, or else you may take your oath, and
never a pervarication, we never would keep an agreeable young
female"--here he gave me two ogles intended for one--"on the flinty
stones so long; only we can't say if you mean honest, and there be such
a many bad ones going, and we've got a leary file inside. Now listen to
what I say. There's a dog as big as a lion in the room as you calls
yourn; and he do show his teeth, and no mistake. We be afeared to show
our noses there, even at the command of dooty. You can hear him
growling now like all the Strand and Fleet Street; and my mate Balak
here leave half his breeches behind him, saving your presence, Miss, and
lucky to get off so. Now if so be you undertakes, honour bright, to
march straight into that front room, my mate and self have concluded to
let you in."
"Of course I will," said I, smiling at their terrors. So I paid the
cabman, took up my little bag, and ran right up the stairs. Balaam and
Balak feared to come round the corner. "You must unlock the door,
Miss," cried one of them, "we was forced to lock him in."
"Oh Judy, my darling Judy, my own pet love of a Judy." He let me say no
more; his paws were on my shoulders, and I was in a shower-bath of
kisses. In the ecstasy of my joy, I forgot all about the two men and
their mysterious doings, and flung myself down on a chair, while Judy,
out of his mind with delight, even tried to sit on my lap. He whinnied,
and cried, and laughed, and yelled, and could find no vent for his
feelings, until he threw his great head back and told all in a wow-wow,
that must have been heard in Oxford Street. A little familiar knock,
and Mrs. Shelfer appeared, looking rather better than ever.
"Why, dear Mrs. Shelfer, how glad I am to see you! And you look much
younger, I declare!"
"And, Miss, you do look bootiful, bootiful, my good friend! Splendid
things,"--I was dressed a little better, but still in sombre
colours--"splendid, Miss Vaughan, and how you becomes 'em to be sure!
Talk of Miss Idols after that, why it's the Queen to a gipsy! And pray,
Miss, if I may make so bold, what did you give for this? it beats my
sarcenet dress, I do believe."
"Nothing, Mrs. Shelfer, only a little kiss."
"Gracious me, Miss, then you've been and got engaged, and to a lord at
least. I heard you were come into your great fortune at last; more than
all Middlesex they tell me, Regency Park and all! And that poor
straight-legged young man, as come here every day to see Judy, and to
ask for you."
"Now, Mrs. Shelfer, don't talk nonsense,"--my heart was jumping, but I
did not want her to see it. "I only hope you haven't said a word to him
about these foolish reports."
"Me, Miss! Do you think I would now?"
"Yes; I know by your face you have. You can't cheat me, Mrs. Shelfer.
Never mind, if you have not mentioned my name." It never struck me that
Conrad would be frightened at my money.
"No, never, Miss, as I hope to be saved." And she crossed herself,
which I had never seen her do.
"Come, Mrs. Shelfer, now; I've got some pretty little trifles for you in
this bag."
She jumped with pleasure; she was so fond of knick-knacks: then she put
her fingers on her lips and went to the door and listened. Presently
she came back with a mysterious air.
"Pray, Miss, as you are so very kind, excuse my taking the liberty, but
would you mind giving Judy the bag in his paws? no fear of them getting
it there."
"Why, what on earth is the matter? Why didn't you let me in? Who are
those nasty men?"
"Oh, it's nothing, Miss; nothing at all to speak of: only they knocks my
sticks so in making the inwentory, and the one they made last time, and
the time before, would do every bit as well. But they charges for it,
every time, the rogues--and they dare to put the chairs down lackered
and American cloth, good, morocco as ever was, and as if Miss Minto--"
"Now, Mrs. Shelfer, tell me in two words what it means. Is it a sale?"
"No, no, Miss, I should hope not; only an execution, and them two men
are the bailiffs; civil tongues enough, and very good judges of porter
and periwinkles. They're the ones as come last time; but I'd sooner have
the old ones, jolly fellows they were, and knew how to wink both eyes.
But that cross-eyed thief--"
"And have they got my things, Mrs. Shelfer?"
"No, Miss; only what few was in the bedroom; they daren't come here for
Judy. It was as much as their lives were worth. If I had known they
was coming, I'd have had him at the front door, but they locked him in
as soon as he got a piece out of the other fellow's leg. Bless me, how
he did holloa!"
"Do you mean to say, Mrs. Shelfer, that they have taken possession of my
things in my bedroom?"
"To be sure, Miss. I said they was yours, and of course they wouldn't
believe me, and the folding door was shut, but Judy would have broken it
down only they put the bedstead again it. Gracious me! I never see a
dog take on so in all my life! He was like a roaring lion."
"I should rather hope so. Giudice, I commend you; and I've a great mind
to let you out, and what is more, I will if they don't give me back my
things. Surely, Mrs. Shelfer, they have no right to my property."
"Well, so I say, Miss; because it isn't for the landlord; but they won't
believe they are yours."
"If they don't believe me pretty soon, Giudice shall convince them. He
is a judge you know, and I've no idea of robbery any more than he has.
But who is doing all this, and why do you seem so unconcerned about it?
I should cry my eyes out, I am sure."
"Bless your pretty heart, Miss; this makes the fifteenth time I've had
them here in the last four years. At first I was terribly put out, and
made myself a figure crying; but now I only think it's company, and they
drink as if they was, that's certain. You must have seen the
inwentories, Miss, round the candles lots of times. Only one thing they
does that don't strike me as wery honourable, though it's law I b'lieve;
they charges me, and wery high too, for eating up my victuals, and they
will have meat four times a day. Why, that Balak, him with his breeches
gone--"
"Who put them in, Mrs. Shelfer, and how much is it for?"
"Oh, it's one of Charley's bills or notes, of course. Quinlan holds it,
him as keeps "the little dust-pan," down Maiden Lane, and Charley says
that all he got for it was ten shillings and a waggon-load of
water-cresses. Now they'll be here directly, Miss, with you to keep the
dog in. Excuse me, Miss, I see you have got one of them new wide things
as go all round and up--capital things, I must have one before they come
again. And could you manage to sit upon the sofa, Miss, and the three
best chairs in your petticoat, with the tea-poy on your lap?"
"What on earth do you mean, Mrs. Shelfer?"
"Why, Miss, they can't lay hold of any article in use, I believe, and
you have got so much room in your things."
"Do you suppose I intend to let them come here, for a moment? Now let
me look at my bedroom. Come, Judy."
"Oh, Miss, they did have such a hunt here for Charley's double-barrel
gun; a regular beauty it is, and that big rogue Quinlan is after it.
They know it all round this neighbourhood, it was made by a famous
maker, Joe something, I b'lieve, and the best he ever made; it was poor
Miss Minto's brother's; and they shan't have it, not one of 'em. I'd
sooner shoot them with it. I keeps it always in the safest place I
knows on, and twice a year I see that it don't get rusty."
"What safe place do you keep it in?"
She put her little mouth up to my ear, and her little hand up to her
mouth, and whispered--
"At the broker's, Miss, in Barbican. He has had it now six years. It's
in for a quarter its value, but that's all the better for me: I have
less to pay for keeping it, and I carries the ticket night and day in my
bosom. And do you know, my good friend, they thought they had got it
just now; they got a key that fitted that box of yours, that you always
locked so carefully, and they made sure that was it; ha, ha, how I
laughed at them when they opened it!"
"What! have they dared to open my mahogany box?" It was the repository
of my precious relics.
"To be sure they did, Miss, and they found such curious things there! A
lovely thing all set with jewels, they said, a baggonet fit for the Duke
of Wellington, and plaster shapes like a cobbler's last, and coloured
paper with queer letters on it, and a piece of long black hair, and a
plan with distances on it--Lor, Miss, what on earth is the matter?
Water! water! You're like death--Balaam! Balak!"
"Stop, Mrs. Shelfer"--I had fallen on the bed--"I would not for ten
thousand pounds have had that box exposed to those low ruffians,
ransacked, and even catalogued. If I can punish them I will; and you
too, you low, miserly, meddling, inquisitive old crone."
She cared for nothing--though afterwards she told me she never saw such
eyes in her life--until I luckily called her an "old crone." At that,
she fell back upon the towel-horse, and sobbed with both hands over her
eyes, as if her heart would break. I had pierced her in the tenderest
point--her age.
I did not feel sorry for her at all for at least two minutes, but let
her cry away. "Serves her right," I thought. Even if she could not
have stopped them from opening that box of mine, at any rate she had no
right to gossip about it, and enjoy it all, as she evidently had done.
Furthermore, I knew well that she had always been on the tingle to learn
the contents of that box, and many a time I had baffled her. Now she
had triumphed thoroughly, and I should not have been female if I had
calmly allowed it. But seeing her great distress (through all of which
she talked, with sobs for affirmations), I began to think what a pity it
was; then to wonder whether she deserved it all; next, to believe that
she had done no harm; lastly, to feel that I had been a brute.
Thereupon I rushed to coax and kiss her, wiped away her tears with my
own lawn handkerchief--the feel of which consoled her, for the edge was
lace--and begged her pardon fifty times in a thousand foolish words.
Finally she was quite set up again by this:
"I tell you, my dear Patty, when I come to your age, when I am five and
thirty"--she was fifty-two at least--"I shall fully deserve to be called
an old woman for this; and much older I shall look, there is no doubt,
than you do."
"Right, my good friend, you are quite right there"--this expression
showed me that she herself was right.--"Why the young man from the
butcher's, he said to me this morning, and beautiful black hair reminded
me of yours, Miss, all stuck together with the fat from off the
kidneys--"
"Come, Mrs. Shelfer, let me see about my box."
"To be sure, to be sure, my dear Miss Vaughan; but what do you think he
said? 'Now, William John,' says I, 'a good steak mind, a tender juicy
steak, for the gentleman visitors here'--Balaam, Miss, and Balak, if you
please,--'does like good juicy meat.' 'Mrs. Shelfer, ma'am,' he says, a
bowing with his tray like that, 'you shall have a steak, ma'am, as fresh
and as juicy as yourself.' Now wasn't that pretty, my good friend?"
"Beautiful, Mrs. Shelfer. But see about my box."
"Surely, surely, Miss Vaughan. But it was very pretty, like a
valentine, don't you think it was now?"
"Where is it?"
"Downstairs, Miss, in my little parlour."
"Then send it up at once, by one of the men."
Presently Balaam came up, looking askance at Judy, and with the mahogany
box under his right arm. He touched his dirty hat, for Mrs. Shelfer had
filled him by this time with the wonders of my wealth, and then he
looked doubtfully, and with sorrow, at his burden.
"Put it here if you please," and I pointed to some chairs, "the dog will
not touch you while I am here. Now what is the amount of this
execution?"
"Debt fifteen pounds, Miss; expenses up to five o'clock, four pound
ten."
"Here is the money. Now give me a receipt."
"No, Miss! You don't mean to pay all!"
"Of course, I do."
"Then, Miss, I beg your pardon, but I can't allow you. I has a duty to
my employer, and I has a duty to the public too, not forgetting Mrs.
Shelfer, and Charley an old friend, and all so handsome in the way of
victuals. And I'm sure she wouldn't wish you to be cheated, Miss. Pay
ten pounds for the debt, Miss, and that's a deal more than it cost them
or they expects to get. 'Twixt you and me, Miss, every stick of this
here furniture is in a dozen bills of sale already; and we comes here
more for practice like, than for anything else."
In short, I paid 10*l.* for the debt, and 4*l.* for the expenses:
whereupon Balaam looked at me with a most impressive and confidential
glance.
"Now, Miss, you won't think me rude; but you have come down so handsome,
I can tell you something as you may like to know. I've seed the very
moral of that sword of yours before."
"Are you certain? Pray where was it?" I trembled with excitement.
"It was in a place in Somers-town, Miss; where I made a levy, some eight
year agone."
"What was the name of the people?"
"Dallyhorse, or Jellycorse, or something of the sort. Foreigners they
was, and they had only just come to this country. But I can tell you
the name more shipshape from the books. Ah, the very moral of it; only
there warn't no serpent."
"Do you know what has become of them?"
"No that I don't, and don't want to come across them again. A mean set
of mongrel parlywoos; I got starved amost. But I did hear they was
riding the high horse now, and something about court."
"Are you quite sure that the weapon was exactly like this? Look at this
again."
"Miss, I can take my oath it was the fellow pea, all but the little
snake, and he ain't a fixture, I don't believe. I would have sworn it
was the very same, only you tells me not. I noticed it most particular;
for I never see one like it, though I have had a sight of foreign
weapons in my hands ere now. And the gent had got it put away so; we
come across it only through a cat as happened to be confined--"
"And what became of it? Did your employer have it?"
"Not he, Miss. When the gent found we had got it, he was put out and no
mistake; though he sham not. Away he goes and gets the money somehow,
and has us all away in no time."
"How many were there in the family?"
"Well, let me see. They was only living in lodgings, and had but half
the house. There was Dallyhorse himself, and a queer-looking lady, and
some children, I don't know how many children, for they kept them out of
the way; and a nice young woman as did the cooking for them, and
precious little it was."
"What was his profession? And who was his creditor?'
"I don't know. They called him an artist I think, but he look to me
more like a sailor. It was a boarding-house bill, as I was on him for.
Rum-tempered fellow. I thought he would have stuck me when I got his
sword thing. A tallish man he was, slight build, and active, and such
black eyes."
"Now, Balaam, if you can trace that man, and find out where he is living
now, I will give you two hundred pounds. Here's ten pounds for you as
an earnest."
Balaam was so amazed, that he almost looked straight at me.
"Please, Miss, may I tell Balak? I shan't be happy if I doesn't. We
always works together, and it wouldn't be on the square like."
"Was he with you then? And can he keep a secret?"
"Yes, Miss, he was with me, and I'd trust him with a gallows secret. I
can't do no good without him."
"Then, certainly you may tell him; but not while in this house. Here is
my country address, that you may know who you act for. Keep clear of
the Police. Keep the whole matter to yourselves. In two days, I leave
London; if you discover nothing in that time, write to me here, and I
will take good care to have the letters forwarded. Do nothing, but find
out that one thing, and when I have verified it, I will pay you the two
hundred pounds."
"Would you mind, Miss, putting it on paper?"
"Yes: for many reasons, I will not write it down. But you are at liberty
to inquire who I am, and whether I am likely to disgrace my word."
After taking his address, "Balaam Levison, Dove Court, Chancery Lane," I
allowed him to depart, and heard him pause on every stair, to ponder
this strange matter.
Presently Mr. Shelfer came home, and was delighted to see the bailiffs;
and the pleasure being mutual, and my cash burning to be quenched, a
most hilarious evening was the natural result. My health was drunk, as
I could hear too plainly, to unfathomable depths: and comic songs from
three loud organs, provided with patent nasal stops, with even Patty's
treble pipe audible in the chorus, broke from time to time the tenour of
my sad and lonely thoughts.
CHAPTER IV.
The bailiff's discovery, and the pursuit commenced thereon, appeared to
me so important, that in reply to the message received the next
morning--that my uncle was much the same, and longing for my return--I
sent word that my journey was put off until the day after the morrow.
This allowed me one day more for tidings from my new scouts, as to the
success of their efforts. I was very sorry to disappoint my poor sick
uncle, but it seemed still worse to run away all in the dark.
The next thing I did was to arrange with Mrs. Shelfer about the money I
had paid for her. It was not the money I cared for, but I had other
views. Although she was politely thankful, I perceived that she thought
it a very bad job indeed, and a most romantic transaction. Thirty per
cent. was the very largest dividend she had ever intended to pay. But
the plan which I proposed was so much for her benefit, while it suited
me, who otherwise must have lost the money, that it almost recovered her
from the shock of having paid a debt. The plan was simply this, that
she should reserve my rooms for me, airing and cleaning them duly, and
always keeping the bed in a fit state to be slept on at an hour's
notice. My previous rent had been twelve shillings a week, the utmost I
could afford out of my narrow income; attendance, and linen, and other
troubles being now dispensed with, I thought it fair to allow her ten
shillings off her debt to me, for every week I should so retain the
rooms. The 4*l.* for the expenses of the execution I forgave her
altogether; inasmuch as I had paid without consulting her. Directly my
payment should be exhausted, to wit in twenty weeks, I would send her a
further sum, if I still required the rooms.
She was delighted with this arrangement, which in fact enabled her to
have her "sticks" all to herself, to pet them and talk to them every
day, and even to clean them, if such a freak of destruction ever should
enter her brain. She could use the sitting-room for her own pleasure
and pride, as much as ever she chose, so long as it always was ready for
me; and already visions were passing before her mind's eye, of letting
the parlour downstairs with the onion-room for its dormitory. To me the
arrangement was very convenient, as affording a fixed and familiar
resort in London, and a pivot of ready communication. Nor was it a small
consolation to feel that I still retained a stronghold in the
neighbourhood of dear friends.
All this being comfortably settled, Giudice and I went forth to pay our
visit in Lucas Street. The whole of that street we found so utterly
changed in appearance by a vigorous onset of painters, grainers, and
decorators, that it was not easy to know the house we were in quest of.
Even the numbers on the doors, which had been illegible, or very nearly
so, had now been re-arranged and painted over again upon the fashionable
and very sensible mode of marking odd numerals on one side, and even
ones on the other. Finding myself in a difficulty, and the houses all
alike as the central peas of a pod, I trusted to Judy's delicate nose,
and rang the bell of the door at which he halted. Then he drew back,
and trembled, and crouched upon the pavement, to wait for my return. As
I heard the tinkle, my heart began to flutter: who could tell what new
phase of my life might begin with that little pull? After some delay,
poor old Cora came, looking as weird and woebegone as ever--fierce would
have been that look to any one but me. I knew that I held her by my
magic gordit, like the slave of the lamp. After imploring in some
mumbled words (which I interpreted only by knowledge of her desire)
gracious leave to kiss that potent charm, she led me into the
breakfast-parlour, where I found sweet Isola in a passionate flood of
tears.
At sight of me, her beautiful smile broke through them, and her quick
deep sobs spent themselves in kisses.
"Oh, I am so gug-gug-glad, my own dear Cla-Cla-Clara; and I won't
cuc-cuc-cry one bit more, the moment I can stop."
She put her arms around me, and her head upon my breast, as if I had
been, at the very least, her brother.
"My pretty dear, what is it all about?"
I had never seen her look so lovely as now, her violet eyes brimming
with liquid brightness, the velvet of her cheeks deepened to rich
carmine, and the only thing that sweet face ever wanted, the expression
of earnest feeling, now radiant through the whole.
"Why, dear, I ought not to tell you; but I must tell somebody, or my
heart will break."
Here she pressed her little hand on that pure unfissured casket, where
sorrow was as yet an undreamed-of robber.
"You know, dear, it's all about papa and my darling Conny. The only
trouble I ever have, but a very great one, big enough and too big for
two little folk of my size. Half an hour ago, I went in suddenly to get
a book upon the politico-economical science, the very one papa is
lecturing about so beautifully; and I did not even know that Conny was
in the house. There papa was, white as death with passion; and Conrad
with his eyes like coals of sparkling fire; and what do you suppose my
papa called his own son Conny?"
"Don't tell me, if it's anything bad. I can't bear it, Isola."
"Oh, I knew you were fond of him, and I am so glad!"
This she said in such an artless way--as if Conrad and I were two dolls
which she meant to put in one doll's house--that instead of colouring, I
actually laughed.
"Oh, but I must tell you, Clara: it's right for you to know; one of the
leading principles of political economy--"
"Don't talk to me of that stuff."
"Well, I won't; because I see that you don't understand it. But he
actually called him--and his voice came from a depth, like an Artesian
well--he called our darling Conny--"
"What?" And in my passion, I flung off her hand, and stood up.
"A low bastard, a renegade hound, a scandal to his country--and then he
even said Rimbecco."
She pronounced the last word almost with a scream, as an insult beyond
forgiveness. What it meant I did not ask, I had heard enough already.
"I must leave this house. Where is your brother Conrad?"
"Gone, I believe, to inquire for you. Nothing but that composes him. I
wish he would never come here. And he was ordered not to. But it is
about some business. Oh, he never will come again." And she began to
cry at the thought of the very thing she had wished for.
"Neither will I come again. Where is your father now?"
"Up at his lumbering cabinet, where he always consoles himself, whenever
he is put out. But if you are going, dear child, do let me come with
you. I shall cry till I die here, all by myself: and Pappy never cares
about me, when he is in his black dudgeon."
In a few minutes we left the rude unpleasant house, and even Judy seemed
relieved to get away from the door. By the time we reached Mrs.
Shelfer's, Idols was in capital spirits again, and pressed me for some
account of the wonderful wealth, and the grand house she had heard of.
No doubt this rumour had found its way through Ann Maples.
"And the great Lord--what's his name, dear Donna? I wouldn't believe a
word of it; though I'm sure you are a deal too good for all the house of
peers. But Conny did; and wasn't he in a way? But he ought to be very
glad you know--wish you every blessing, as they say in the plays; and a
peer is the very highest blessing to an Englishwoman. But one thing I
am quite resolved on: Judy belongs to me now, don't you, lovely Judy?"
"No," said the judicious, "I belong to Clara."
"Though Conny pretends, since he was left at your place, that he belongs
to him. Now I will give him to you; and so will Conny too. You can
afford to keep him now, and I can't, he does eat such a lot; and he does
not care a pin for me, but he loves you with all his heart."
"How do you know he does?" I was not attending much, but thinking of
some one else.
"Why, can't you see that he does, how he wags his tail every time you
even look at him? But I hope poor Conny is here. I should think he
would stop, when he finds _darling Clara_ come back."
I had jumped to that hope long ago, before we even left Lucas Street,
and that had something to do with my walking so fast.
No, he was not there, he had not been there to-day. It was my turn now
to cry; what might he not have done, after that fearful insult, and from
his own father too?
The tears, which I confided to no one except the wooden-legged
blackbird--for Giudice would have made such a fuss about them--were
still upon my cheeks, when I heard the well-known step--not half so
elastic as usual. I fled into my bedroom, and pushed the boxes about,
to make a goodly noise, and to account for the colour in my face. Then
out I came at the side-door, and ran downstairs perversely, though I
knew that Conrad and Isola were in my sitting-room.
But this first-rate manoeuvre only outwitted its author, for Isola ran
down after me, and sent me upstairs alone. All my little nonsense
vanished the moment I looked in Conrad's face. His healthy brown
complexion was faded to an opal white; beneath his eyes such dark blue
rims, that I thought he had spectacles on; and on either cheek a round
red spot was burning. So shocked I was, that when he took my hand, I
turned my face away and smothered down a sob. I felt that I had no
right to be so fresh and blooming. Nor was it only in health that the
contrast between us lay. I was dressed with unusual care, having
fidgeted all the morning, and with my utmost taste. Poor Conrad was in
his working clothes, full of marble dust, tumbled, threadbare, and even
in need of mending; his hair swept anyhow, and his hands not over-lately
washed. Yet, for all that, he was as clearly a gentleman, as I was a
lady.
Not so would he have been arrayed, I fancy, had he thought to see neat
Clara. And yet, who knows? "I trust that you will excuse me," he began
to say, "but such things have happened lately--you will not account me
rude--I had no sense at all of this great pleasure."
"I fear you have not been very happy." I knew not what to say, or how
to keep my voice clear.
"Yes," he replied, "as happy as I deserve. It serves me aright for
esteeming so much of myself, before that I do anything. But I will win
my way"--and his own proud glance flashed out--"and we shall see how
many will scorn me then."
"No one in the world can scorn you," I said very softly, and my voice
thrilled through him.
"Ah, you are always kind and gentle:"--am I though, thought I--"but I
will no more fatigue you with my different lot in life. I am told that
some great nobleman has won you for his own. Perhaps you will give me
an order."
His throat was swelling with these bitter words, and he looked at his
dusty clothes. Somewhat rude I thought him, but I knew not half his
troubles.
"Whoever told you that, has made a great mistake. I am engaged to no
one. Your sister knows me better." And I turned away to the window.
For a minute he said nothing; but I could hear his heart beat.
Stedfastly I looked at the cheesemonger's shop. Oh for a flower, or
something on the balcony!
Presently he came round the corner of the sofa. Without being rude, I
could not help turning round.
His face was much, much, brighter, and his eyes more kind.
"Have I said any harm--I would not for the world--I knew not it was
harm."
"No harm," I said, "to think so ill of me! To believe, for a single
moment, that because I am not so poor, I would go and forsake--at least,
I mean, forget--any one I cared for!"
"Can I ever hope, if I serve you all my life, that you will ever care
for me?"
"Don't you know I do?" And I burst into my violent flood.
When I came to myself, both his arms were round me, and I was looking up
at his poor sick face, my hair quite full of marble chips, and he was
telling me with glad tears in his eyes, which he never took from mine,
how he cared for nothing now, not for all the world, not for glory or
fur shame, so long as I only loved him.
"With all my heart and soul," I whispered, "him and no one else
whatever, whether in life or death."
All the folly we went through I am not going to repeat, though I
remember well every atom of it. Let the wise their wisdom keep, we are
babes and sucklings. Neither of us had ever loved before, or ever meant
to love again, except of course each other, and that should be for ever.
"One thing I must tell you, my own sweet love, and yet I fear to do it.
But you are not like other girls. There is no one like you, nor has
there ever been. I think you will not scorn me for another's fault."
"Of course I won't, my own pet Conny. What is this awful thing?"
"I am an illegitimate son."
One moment I sprang from him; the next I despised myself. But in spite
of all my troubles, there still lurked in my heart the narrow pride of
birth. Down to the earth it fell beneath the foot of true love, and I
kissed away from his eyes the mingled reproach and sorrow, assuring him
that at least he should have a legitimate wife.
To make amends, I leaned upon him one moment, and put my hand on his
shoulder, and let him play awhile with the dark shower of my hair.
"Darling Conny, you have told me yours, now you shall hear my secret.
Only promise me you will give tit for tat. You say you loved me ever
since you saw me first; then you must have loved your Clara when you
saved her life."
"What do you mean, my Clara? Those low ruffians in the Park were not
going to kill you."
"No, dearest; I don't mean that at all. But there's a kiss for that, I
have owed it you ever since. But what I mean no kisses can repay; no,
nor a life of love. You saved a life worth fifty of my own."
Some dark alarm was growing in his eyes, on which I gazed with vague
increasing terror.
"Why, dearest, it is nothing. Only your own Clara is not Clara Valence;
you must call her 'Clara Vaughan.'"
With actual violence he thrust me from his arms, and stood staring at
me, while I trembled from head to foot; his face was one scarlet flame.
"And pray, Sir, what harm have I done? Am I to suppose that
you"--special emphasis meant for illegitimacy--"that you are ashamed of
my father and me?"
"Yes, I am. Accursed low licentious race! If you knew what you have
done, you would tear your heart out rather than give it to me."
"Thank you--I feel obliged--my heart indeed--to a bastard. Take back
your ring if you please; kindly restore me mine. May I trouble you for
room enough to go by?"