SCENES AT RAVENSWORTH HALL.
It was about five o'clock in the afternoon of the same day on which the
interview between George Montague Greenwood and the Honourable Gilbert
Vernon took place, that a post-chaise advanced rapidly through
Ravensworth Park, towards the Hall.
In a few minutes it stopped at the principal entrance of the mansion;
and the Honourable Mr. Vernon alighted.
Quentin, who received him, made some inquiry in a respectful tone
concerning his baggage.
"My valet will be here in the evening with my trunks," replied Vernon,
abruptly.
Thus, without committing himself by a positive assertion, he led Quentin
and the other domestics who were present to infer that he had only just
arrived in England, and had left his servant in London to clear his
baggage at the Custom-House.
Quentin bowed as he received that answer, and hastened to conduct Mr.
Vernon to the drawing-room where Lady Ravensworth was seated.
The widow and her brother-in-law now met for the first time.
Vernon saw before him a young and beautiful woman, very pale, and with a
countenance whose expression denoted much suffering—mental rather than
physical. It was true that she had only lately become a mother,—that
little more than a month had elapsed since she had given birth to an
heir to the proud title and broad lands of Ravensworth;—and though the
pallor of her face was the natural consequence of so recent an event,
yet the physical languor which usually follows also, had given place to
a nervousness of manner—a restlessness of body—a rapid wandering of the
eyes—and an occasional firm compression of the lips, which indicated an
uneasy mind.
Alas! upon that woman's soul lay a crime, heavy and oppressive as a
weight of lead! The voice of the murdered Lydia was ever ringing in her
ears;—the countenance of the murdered Lydia was ever staring her in the
face—ghastly, distorted, and livid in appearance;—the form of the
murdered Lydia was ever standing before her! At night the spectre placed
itself between the opening of the curtains, and seemed more
palpable—more horrible—more substantial in the hours of darkness.
No wonder, then, that her mind was restless—that her manner was
nervous—and that her looks were wandering and unsettled!
But let us continue the thread of our narrative, taking it up at the
moment when the Honourable Gilbert Vernon entered the apartment where
Lady Ravensworth rose to receive him.
Extending her hand towards him, she said, "Welcome to this mansion: it
is kind of you to answer so speedily in person the letters which it was
my painful duty to address to you at Beyrout."
These words reassured Vernon on one important point: they proved that
letters _had been_ sent, conveying the intelligence of his brother's
death.
"Accept my gratitude for the cordiality with which you receive me,
sister—for such you will permit me to call you," answered Vernon; "and
believe me——. But, good God! what ails you? what is the matter, Lady
Ravensworth? You are ill—you——"
"That voice—that voice!" shrieked Adeline, staggering towards a chair,
on which she sank helplessly. "Oh! Mr. Vernon——"
Gilbert was astounded at the affrighted manner and strange ejaculations
of his sister-in-law;—but, seeing that she was on the point of fainting,
he snatched from the table a small bottle of powerful scent, and handed
it to her.
She inhaled the perfume, which acted as a slight restorative; but it was
chiefly to the natural vigour of her mind, and to the imperious
necessity in which dread circumstances had placed her of constantly
maintaining as much command over herself as possible, that she was
indebted for her almost immediate recovery from the state into which
sudden surprise and profound alarm had thrown her.
"Perhaps your ladyship is desirous that I should withdraw?" said Vernon.
"There may be something in my countenance—my manner—or my voice that
recalls to your mind painful reminiscences of my lately-departed
brother:—it is natural that you should experience these feelings;—and I
will leave you for the present."
"No, Mr. Vernon—stay!" exclaimed Adeline, in a tone which denoted the
most painful excitement and agitation.
"Compose yourself, then: attempt not to pursue the conversation
immediately," said Gilbert; "for as—with your permission—it is my
intention to become your guest for a few weeks——"
"My guest!" repeated Adeline, with a shudder.
"Really, my dear sister," exclaimed Vernon, somewhat impatiently; "I am
at a loss to understand the meaning of this excitement on your part. It
is _not_ caused by those reminiscences to which I ere now alluded: it
begins to assume the aspect of aversion towards myself. Pardon me if I
speak thus plainly; but if I be indeed hateful to you—if slanderous
tongues have wronged me in your estimation—if even my own brother were
cruel enough to malign me to his wife——"
"Mr. Vernon," interrupted Adeline, with a kind of feverish haste, "your
conjectures will never lead you to discover the true cause of that
agitation which I could not conquer, and which has offended you. The
moment you addressed me, I was seized with a strange surprise—a wild
alarm; and those feelings still influence me to some extent,—for
methinks that I have heard your voice before!"
And she fixed her eyes in a penetrating manner upon his countenance.
"It may be," answered Vernon, quailing not beneath that look—for he had
so desperate a part to play at Ravensworth Hall, that he knew how much
depended upon a self-command and a collectedness of ideas that might
avert suspicion,—"it may be, sister, that some years ago—ere I left
England—we met in those circles in which we both move by right of birth
and social position; and, although I do not remember that I ever had the
pleasure of seeing you until now, still such a meeting may have
occurred, and your mind may have retained certain impressions——"
"No, Mr. Vernon," again interrupted Adeline; "that surmise—even if
correct—will not account for the cause of my agitation. To speak
candidly, my impression was—and still _is_,—and yet," she added,
suddenly recollecting herself, "if that impression should be indeed
erroneous, I should insult you—insult you grossly by explaining it——"
"Proceed, dear sister," said Vernon, gaining additional assurance, in
proportion as Lady Ravensworth hesitated. "State to me candidly the
impression which you received; and I will as candidly answer you."
"Yes—I _will_ tell you the reason of that excitement which nearly
overcame me," cried Adeline, whose suspicions were robbed of much of
their strength by the calm and apparently open manner of her
brother-in-law.
"And believe me when I declare that I shall readily pardon you, however
injurious to myself may be the impression my voice has unfortunately
made upon you. I can make ample allowances for one who has lately lost a
beloved husband, and whose anxieties have been increased by the duties
of maternity," added Gilbert.
"In one word, then, Mr. Vernon," continued Adeline, "it struck me that
on a certain evening—in the month of February—I heard your voice,—yes,
your voice in conversation with another person, in a ruined cottage
which stands on the verge of the Ravensworth estate."
And, as she spoke, she again studied his countenance with the most
earnest attention.
Desperate was the effort which the guilty man exerted over the painful
excitement of feeling which this declaration produced within him:—in a
moment he recalled to mind all the particulars of his meeting with the
Resurrection Man at the ruined lodge; and he also remembered that he had
lost on the same occasion the scrap of paper on which was written the
address of his terrible agent in crime. But he _did_ succeed in
maintaining a calm exterior:—steadily he met the searching glance fixed
upon him;—and though his heart beat with fearful emotions, not a muscle
of his countenance betrayed the agitation that raged within his breast.
"My dear sister," said Vernon, in a cool and collected tone, "you are
labouring under a most extraordinary delusion. Think you that there is
not another voice in the world like mine? Believe me, had I been in this
country at the time to which you allude, I should have only felt too
much rejoiced to have paid my respects to you at an earlier period than
the present."
Adeline listened to the deep tones of that voice which now rolled upon
her ear like a perpetuation of the echoes of the one which she had heard
in the ruins;—and she was still staggered at the resemblance! She also
remembered that, in spite of the darkness of the night, she had on that
occasion caught a glimpse of the tall and somewhat stout form which had
passed near her, and which she knew not to have been that of the
Resurrection Man, whom she had since seen:—and she was bewildered more
and more.
But the calmness with which Vernon denied the circumstance of being in
England at that time,—the steady, honest manner with which he declared
that she was labouring under a delusion in identifying his voice with
the one she had heard in the ruined lodge,—and the absence of any motive
which she could conjecture for his maintaining his presence in this
country (even were he really here at the period alluded to) so
profoundly secret,—these arguments staggered her still more than even
her contrary suspicions.
On his side, Vernon was congratulating himself on the evident
embarrassment of his sister-in-law; and he felt convinced that the sound
of his voice alone—and nothing that had passed between him and Tidkins
in the ruined cottage—had produced an impression upon her.
"You will then forgive me for a momentary suspicion that was injurious
to you?" said Adeline, after a short pause, and now adopting the only
course open to her in the matter.
"I have come to England to form your acquaintance—your friendship,—to
see if I can be of service to you in the position in which my brother's
death and the birth of a son have placed you,—to aid you in the
settlement of any affairs which may require the interference of a
relative," answered Vernon; "for these purposes have I come—and not to
vex you by taking umbrage at impressions which, however painful to me,
are pardonable on the side of one in your situation."
[Illustration]
"Then let us banish from our conversation the disagreeable topic which
has hitherto engrossed it," exclaimed Adeline. "It is my duty to give
you some information in respect to certain matters; and the family
solicitor will, when you may choose to call upon him, enter into more
elaborate details. You are aware that your poor brother died ere his
child was born. But so far back as last November his lordship made a
will the provisions of which were so prudentially arranged as to apply
to the welfare of either male or female progeny, whichever might be
accorded by Providence. Two distinguished noblemen are now my son's
guardians, under that will, and consequently the trustees of the
entailed estate."
Vernon bit his lip with vexation.
"In reference to his personal property," continued Adeline, "my lamented
husband has left me sole executrix."
A dark cloud passed over the countenance of the brother-in-law.
"But, by a special clause in his will," added Lady Ravensworth, who did
not observe those manifestations of feeling on the part of Gilbert
Vernon, "your deceased brother has ensured in your behalf double the
amount of that pension which has hitherto been paid to you."
"Thus my brother deemed me unworthy to be the guardian of his child;—he
also considered it prudent to exclude me from any share in the duty of
carrying his wishes into effect;—and he has provided me with a pittance
of one thousand pounds a-year."
In spite of the necessity of maintaining the most complete self-command
over himself, in order to carry out his plans successfully, Gilbert
Vernon could not avoid those bitter observations which showed how deeply
he was galled at the total want of confidence displayed in respect to
him by his deceased brother.
Adeline felt that the point was a delicate one, and made no reply.
Fortunately for them both, each being much embarrassed by the present
topic of discourse, a servant now entered to announce that dinner was
served up.
Gilbert Vernon and Lady Ravensworth accordingly repaired to the
dining-room.
We may here observe that Lord Dunstable and Mr. Graham had left the
mansion some weeks previously, the young nobleman having recovered from
the wound which he had received in the duel.
When dinner was over, Vernon and his sister-in-law returned to the
drawing-room, where coffee was served up. Adeline directed that the
infant heir—then scarcely more than a month old—should be brought in,
Gilbert having hypocritically expressed a desire to see his newly-born
nephew. The request was granted:—the nurse made her appearance with the
babe; and Vernon passed upon it the usual flattering encomiums which are
so welcome to a mother's ears.
But there was no falsehood in those praises,—however insincere might be
the manner in which they were uttered:—for the infant was a remarkably
fine one, and appeared sweetly interesting as it slept in the nurse's
arms.
Vernon flattered the mother's vanity so adroitly, by distant but by no
means unintelligible allusions to her own good looks, as he spoke of the
child, that she began to consider him a far more agreeable man than she
had at first supposed he could possibly prove to be.
Shortly after the nurse had retired with the child, Quentin entered the
drawing-room, and, addressing himself to Vernon, said, "Your valet has
just arrived, sir, with your baggage."
"If her ladyship will permit me," returned Gilbert, "I will withdraw for
a few moments to give my servant some instructions."
"I am about to retire to my own chamber, Mr. Vernon," observed Adeline,
"and shall leave you in undisturbed possession of this apartment. Your
valet can therefore wait upon you here."
Quentin withdrew for the purpose of sending Mr. Vernon's domestic to the
drawing-room; and Lady Ravensworth, having remained for a few moments to
finish her coffee, also retired.
On the landing she heard hasty steps approaching and almost immediately
afterwards Quentin appeared, followed by the Honourable Gilbert Vernon's
valet.
They passed Lady Ravensworth as she was about to ascend the stairs
leading from the brilliantly lighted landing to the floor above.
But—O horror!—was it possible?—did her eyes deceive her?—was she the
sport of a terrible illusion?
No:—a second glance at the countenance of the false valet was sufficient
to confirm the appalling suspicion which the first look in that
direction had suddenly excited within her.
For _his_ was a countenance which, once seen—if only for a moment—could
never be forgotten;—and in spite of the new suit of complete black which
he wore,—in spite of the care that had been bestowed upon his person,—in
spite of the pains which a Globe Town barber had devoted to his usually
matted hair—it was impossible not to recognise in this individual so
disguised, the instrument of Adeline's own crime—the terrible
Resurrection Man!