ALARMING ADVENTURE.
Whether the sight of Annie’s tears would have produced any change in
Lewis’s determination, had their _tête-à-tête_ continued uninterrupted,
is a question in regard to which psychologists may arrive at any
conclusion which pleases them; for Walter having literally, or
figuratively, caught his butterfly, rejoined his companions almost
immediately, and under cover of his puerile volubility Annie contrived
to dry her eyes and outwardly regain her composure.
In the course of the following morning Lewis found an opportunity of
making the important communication. General Grant heard him with grave
attention, and when he had concluded, observed--
“This alters the whole aspect of the affair. Any man may commit a fault,
but if he sees his error, and is willing by every means at his command
to atone for it, it behoves all generous-minded persons to forgive him.
I perceive that I have, in this instance, acted hastily, and owe Lord
Bellefield reparation. I shall write to him immediately, and have to
thank you, Mr. Arundel, for affording me this information, which may
give me an opportunity of effecting a reconciliation with one on whom I
had long since decided to bestow my daughter’s hand. Your disinterested,
I may say magnanimous conduct in this matter, entitles you to my fullest
confidence. I shall make it an express stipulation that for the future
Lord Bellefield shall evince all due consideration towards you.”
And this speech, and the haunting memory of Annie’s tears, were Lewis’s
reward for doing his duty.
The result of this communication was that the General wrote a long
letter to Lord Bellefield, using many words to express his meaning,
which might have been advantageously compressed into half the number;
however, it satisfied its composer, who considered it a miracle of
diplomacy and a model of style. Lord Bellefield’s answer was cold and
haughty; his pride had been wounded, and his was not a mind frankly to
forgive an injury of that nature; still he did not reject the General’s
overtures. He was going to travel in Greece (he wrote), but on his
return to England he would see General Grant and refute the calumnies
which had been spread to his disadvantage: he was aware that he had
enemies who might be glad to avail themselves of any opportunity to
vilify his character, but he trusted to the General’s sense of justice
to discourage such attempts. And the contents of this letter were
communicated to Annie by her father, together with a rebuke for having
so easily believed reports to her cousin’s disadvantage, which lecture
somewhat failed in its effect from the unlucky fact that, in this
particular instance, the lecturer’s practice happened to have been
diametrically opposed to his preaching; but the rebuke led to one evil
result--viz., it crushed in the bud a half-formed project which Annie
had conceived of acquainting her father with her growing disinclination
to a union with her cousin, and of imploring him to take no step towards
a renewal of the engagement. Moral courage (save when her feelings were
very strongly excited) was not one of Annie’s attributes, and as the
evil she feared was not a proximate one, she trusted to chance to
postpone it still further, if not to avert it altogether. Thus, being
naturally of a light-hearted, joyous temperament, she ere long recovered
her usual gaiety, and an occasional sigh, or a quarter of an hour’s
unwonted abstraction, alone attested her recollection of this dark speck
on the horizon of her future life.
The return to Broadhurst appeared to produce a soothing effect upon
Lewis also--it gave him an opportunity calmly to review his position;
and a new idea struck him, generalising from which he sketched out a
system different from that which he had hitherto pursued in regard
to Annie Grant. True, he could never hope to call her his--love was
forbidden him--but friendship, warm, ardent friendship--love elevated,
spiritualised, purified from the slightest admixture of passion,--this
he might enjoy safely; it only required a strong effort of will, a
determined, uniform exercise of self-control. To be enslaved by hopeless
love was mere weakness; to crush the sentiment entirely was Quixotic
and uncalled for; but to control and regulate it, to fix limits which it
should not exceed, and thus to convert a curse into a blessing, this was
an effort worthy of a reasonable being, and this he would accomplish. In
order to carry out this design he determined no longer to avoid Annie
as he had done; it was cowardly to fly thus from temptation; besides, it
was evidently useless to do so; imagination supplied the deficiency, and
the evil was but increased. No, he would face the danger and subdue it.
Thus, too, he might be of use to her, for with all his admiration of her
character he read it aright, and saw that there were weak points which
required the aid of principle to strengthen them; that her pursuits were
frivolous, her mind uncultivated, and her existence practically aimless,
because her views of life were confused and indistinct, and her standard
of excellence a visionary one. All this he saw, and seeing, felt that
he could remedy. And while he pondered on these things Annie recalled
an old wish to study German, and asked her father’s permission to be
allowed to do so, if Mr. Arundel could find time to give her lessons;
whereupon the General, having a great respect for any language of which
he was personally ignorant, preferred her request to Lewis, and that
young gentleman was graciously pleased to accede thereunto. Miss
Livingstone of course played duenna, and but for one circumstance would
have performed her character with a degree of cold-blooded virulence
worthy of the most fractious tigress that ever mangled “lovers tender
and true.” This fortunate circumstance was that the lessons, being
usually taken by way of dessert after an early dinner, invariably sent
Minerva to sleep. In vain did she bring out her “poor basket,” in which
receptacle lay hid certain harsh underclothing for infant paupers;
in vain did she attempt sewing the seams of Procustes-like pinafores,
which, solving the problem of the minimum of brown holland capable of
containing a living child, were destined to compress the sturdy bodies
of village urchins; the “_colo calathisve Minervo_” were unable to
resist the attacks of the god Somnus, and ere Annie had stretched
her pretty little mouth by the utterance of a dozen double-bodied
substantives, the lynx-eyes were closed in sleep, and for all practical
purposes Miss Livingstone forfeited every right to the first half of her
patronymic.
Reader, if you are of the gender which uncourteous grammarians are
pleased to designate the worthier, tell me,--in strict confidence, of
course,--did you ever read German with a pair of bright eyes turning
from the crabbed Teutonic characters to look appealingly into your
own optics, while two coral lips, formed for pleasanter purposes than
growling German gutturals, complain of some enigmatical sentence which
has _not_ got a right meaning to it, the said eyes and lips being the
outward symbols of a warm heart and quick intelligence, ready to discern
and feel the grandeur of Schiller, the Shakespeare of the Fatherland, or
thrill to the trumpet blasts of young Korner’s warrior spirit, or trace
the more subtle thinkings of Goethe, that anatomist of the soul of man?
Tell me, did you ever read with so desirable a fellow-student? If you
have done so, and can honestly say you did not think such schooling
delightful, the sooner you close this book the better, for depend upon
it there is little sympathy between us. Lewis at all events had no
cause to be dissatisfied with his pupil, who was equally docile and
intelligent, and in a marvellously short space of time was able to read
and translate with tolerable fluency; while the few German sentences in
which her instructor from time to time saw fit to address her appeared
less like heathen Greek to her at each repetition. As soon as she had
sufficiently mastered the difficulties of those aggravating parts of
speech, the compound separable verbs, and acquired moderate control over
other equally necessary and vicious parts of the grammar, they commenced
translating that most poetical of allegories, La Motte Fouqué’s
“Undine”; and Annie, as they read, took it all at first _au pied de la
lettre_, and imagined, with a degree of shuddering horror, which, as
it was _only_ a tale, was rather pleasant than otherwise, all the
supernatural uncomfortables Huldbrand underwent in the Enchanted
Forest, and admired all the generous impulses of the heroine’s singular
uncle-and-water, Kuhleborn, who, however, she considered would have
been better adapted for family purposes, if he had been rather more of
a man and less of a cataract. Then Undine herself, the capricious,
fascinating, tricksy sprite--the thoughtful, loving, feeling woman--how
Annie sympathised with and adored her! For Huldbrand she felt a species
of contemptuous pity, but Bertalda, oh! she was sure no woman was ever
so heartless, so utterly and wickedly selfish. And then when Lewis
unfolded to her his view of the Allegory (every one is sure to form a
particular theory of his own as to the meaning of “Undine,” and to think
he only has discovered the author’s intention), and Annie learned that
the tale shadowed forth the mighty truths which throng the passage to
eternity, and symbolising the struggle between good and evil, showed
how Principalities and Powers wage throughout all time an undying
warfare--the breast of man their battlefield--her pulses quickened and
her cheek flushed; for she felt for the first time the solemn realities
of existence, and saw dimly how a single life might be a link between
the Ages, and a portion, however insignificant, of the mighty whole.
What wonder then if part of the reverence, the awe, chastened by a deep,
solemn joy, with which she recognised the workings of Infinite power,
and Infinite love, cast their spell around him who had first awakened
these perceptions within her?--what wonder if unconsciously comparing
him with those around her, she grew to believe him a being of another
and a higher nature, and so to hang on his slightest word or look, to
dread his frown, and deem his smile sufficient compensation for hours of
unwonted study?
The German lessons seemed to agree particularly well with Lewis also;
for his eye grew brighter and his step more free, the extreme paleness
of his complexion changed to a manly brown, a slight tinge of colour
imparted a look of health to his cheek, and--unromantic as it may
appear--his appetite increased alarmingly. Would the reader learn the
secret of this improvement? It is soon told. Living in the present,
blinding himself to the truth, he was happy! His system, he told
himself, had succeeded--his theory had been tested, and proved a true
one--resolution had conquered, and the insanity of love had cooled down
to the reasonableness of a delightful friendship.
Lewis was excessively pleased with himself at this result. At length,
then, he had attained that complete and perfect degree of self-control
he had so long endeavoured to acquire; his feelings were reduced to a
due submission to his will; and henceforward his happiness was in his
own hands. And thus basking in this gleam of sunshine, he shut his eyes
to all beyond, and dreamed that he possessed an elixir to dissipate
every cloud, and that henceforward storms would disappear from the
horizon of his destiny and become mere myths, existing only in memory.
And these were some of the earliest results of the German lessons.
About this time a small but unpleasant adventure occurred to poor Annie
which occasioned her a severe fright, and rendered her nervous and
uncomfortable for many days afterwards. She had been on an expedition to
the cottage of a poor neighbour who was suffering from illness; and
as the sick woman lived beyond a walk, Annie had gone on horseback,
attended by an old coachman who had lived in the family many years.
Having accomplished her mission, she had ridden about a quarter of
a mile on her return when she discovered that she had left her
handkerchief behind, and directing the servant to ride back and fetch
it, she proceeded at a foot’s pace in a homeward direction. The road she
was following wound round the base of a hill thickly covered with trees
and underwood, the spreading branches of the oaks meeting across the
lane and making a species of twilight even at midday.
As Annie Grant was passing under one of the thickest of these trees, a
tall, gaunt figure sprang from behind its knotted trunk and seized the
bridle of her pony. Gazing in alarm at her assailant, Annie perceived
him to be a man of unusual stature; his features were pale and
emaciated, and an unshorn, grizzly beard added to the ferocity of their
expression; his clothes, which were torn and soiled, hung loosely about
him, while the long bony fingers which clutched her bridle-rein, the
sunken cheeks, and hollow, glaring eye-balls, gave evidence that his
herculean proportions had been reduced almost to a skeleton leanness by
disease or want. Annie had, however, little time to make observations,
for, accosting her with an oath, the ruffian demanded her purse. Drawing
it forth, she held it to him with a trembling hand. He seized it eagerly
and examined its contents, his eyes glittering as he observed the
sparkle of gold. Hastily concealing it about his person, he next
demanded her watch, which Annie, after a hopeless glance in the
direction from which she expected the appearance of the servant, also
relinquished. Having secured his plunder the fellow paused, apparently
reflecting whether by detaining her longer he could gain any further
advantage; as he did so the sound of a horse rapidly advancing struck
his ear, and immediately afterwards a turn in the road enabled him to
perceive the figure of a servant on horseback, the sunshine glancing
from his bright livery buttons. The moment this object met his view
he started, and shading his eyes with his hand, gazed fixedly at the
approaching horseman. Having thus satisfied himself as to the man’s
identity, he exclaimed with an oath, “It is the old bloodhound’s livery,
and the girl must be his daughter. Oh, what a chance I have thrown away!
Yes,” he continued, turning fiercely upon poor Annie and threatening her
with his clenched fist, “if I had guessed you were the daughter of that
-------- old Grant, you should not have got off so easy, I promise you.”
He paused as a new idea struck him, and his face assumed an expression
of diabolical revenge; placing his hand in his breast he drew forth a
pistol, cocked it, and muttering, “There is time yet,” levelled it at
his trembling victim. With a faint scream Annie dropped the reins, and
clasping her hands in an agony of fear, murmured a petition for mercy.
The ruffian stood for a moment irresolute; but, desperate as he
was, some touch of humanity yet lingered in his breast, a softening
recollection came across him, and muttering, “I can’t do it, she looks
like poor Jane,” he uncocked and replaced the pistol.
At this moment the servant, having heard Annie’s scream, came up at a
gallop, and the robber, uttering a fearful imprecation, sprang back into
the wood and disappeared among the trees.
It was some minutes before Annie, who was on the verge of fainting, was
able to give a coherent account of the adventure which had befallen
her. As soon, however, as she had in some degree recovered from the
effects of her terror, she desired the servant to ride close beside her,
and urging her pony into a rapid canter, made the best of her way home.
Here she found matters in a state of unusual bustle and confusion. The
General had received information that Hardy the poacher had broken out
of H---------- gaol, effected his escape unperceived, and was
supposed to be concealed somewhere in the neighbourhood of Broadhurst.
Accordingly he was marshalling all the available males of his
establishment, preparatory to setting out on an expedition to search
for, and if possible to apprehend the escaped felon.
Great was his horror and indignation when he learned the danger to which
his daughter had been exposed, and ascertained from the description
she gave of her assailant that the man who had robbed her, and even
threatened her life, was none other than the ruffian Hardy.
The preparations which he had already made he now considered
insufficient for ensuring the success of the expedition; he accordingly
despatched a mounted groom to procure the assistance of a couple of
policemen, and sending for Lewis, begged him to lead a party to search
the country in one direction, while he proceeded with a second division
of the household forces in another. As the young tutor heard of the
alarm to which Annie had been subjected, his cheeks flushed and his
compressed lips quivered. He said little, however, but returning to
his room, placed a brace of small pistols in the breast of his coat,
attached spurs to the heels of his boots, then mounting a horse which
was in readiness for him, rode off. The tenants were roused, the
gamekeepers summoned, the policemen arrived. General Grant remained
absent till nearly ten o’clock at night, and his daughter became alarmed
to the last degree for his safety. At length he returned; their search
had been unsuccessful, but Mr. Arundel and some of the men would remain
on the watch all night, and he would resume the pursuit next morning.
For three days and nights Lewis never entered a house, and was scarcely
out of the saddle; the fourth day the police received a report from
the authorities at Liverpool, stating that an individual in some degree
corresponding to the description of Hardy had taken his passage in a
vessel bound for the United States, and that the wind being favourable,
the ship had sailed before they had been able to search her; and with
this unsatisfactory report the family at Broadhurst were forced to
content themselves.