Lewis’s recovery was not retarded by his imprudent visit to the Palazzo
Grassini; and Frere had the satisfaction, ere many weeks elapsed, of
perceiving that he was strong enough to render their return to England
practicable. Accordingly, the “Giaour” pictures and the sketch of Annie
and Faust were carefully packed (Lewis having determined to retain them
as mementos of the eventful portion of his career which led to their
execution), old Antonelli received a present of money sufficient to
enable him to carry out the darling wish of his heart--viz., to bestow
upon his son the education of a painter; and Lewis and Frere, having
wound up their affairs in Venice, quitted that city, which, filled with
a rabble of revolutionary demagogues and their dupes, had become no
longer a desirable place of residence. The friends reached England
without any adventures worthy of record; and Rose was compensated for
many a weary hour of anxiety and suspense by her joy in welcoming her
brother, and learning from his lips the unmitigated satisfaction with
which he had heard of her engagement to Richard Frere; and how that
“glorious fellow” had redoubled all his former obligations to him by
his sound advice and tender and judicious nursing. If for a moment Frere
could have regretted the part he had played, the loving smile of warm
approval with which Rose received him would have compensated him for any
far greater expenditure of time and trouble. But Lewis had much to tell,
which gave rise to very different emotions in his auditor; and Rose, as
she grieved for the untimely fate of poor Jane Hardy, and shuddered
at the awful retribution which had overtaken her betrayer, breathed a
silent thanksgiving that her brother had been restrained from any deed
of violence, to which his impetuous disposition, keen sensibilities, and
quick sense of injury might have impelled him. Lewis had also something
to hear as well as to communicate.
Mrs. Arundel, in her spirit of opposition to the artless and bereaved
relict of the late Colonel Brahmin, had carried her flirtation with that
victim of literary ambition, Dackerel Dace, Esq., to such a pitch, that
when the blighted barrister determined to resign his destiny altogether
in favour of matrimony, and made her an offer of his limp hand, flabby
heart, and five thousand a year to give piquancy and flavour to the
tasteless and insipid “trifle” he _tendered_ for her acceptance, that
volatile matron felt that she had committed herself too deeply to
retract, and that, setting off the money against the man, the bargain
after all might not be such a bad one, and so said “Yes.” Rose disliked
the match greatly, and fearing Lewis would do so still more strongly,
ventured upon a mild remonstrance; but when once she had taken a thing
into her head, Mrs. Arundel was very determined, and Rose gained
nothing but an intimation, half earnest, half playful, that as she (Mrs.
Arundel) had not interfered with her daughter when she chose to engage
herself to Ursa Major, she expected the same for_bear_ance (and she
emphasised the vile pun most unmistakably) to be exercised towards her
and her odd fish, by which nickname she irreverently paraphrased the
ichthyological appellation of her “_future_.”
Lewis, as Rose had feared, was both hurt and annoyed at this fresh and
convincing proof of his mother’s volatile and worldly nature, but there
was nothing in the connection to justify his taking measures to break
off the match; Mrs. Arundel was perfectly free to do as she pleased, and
competent to decide her own course in life; so after one conversation
with her on the subject, the nature of which may be gathered from the
result, he left the affair to take its own course. His first step on
reaching London was to seek an interview with his legal adviser; their
conference proving satisfactory, eventuated (to use an affected but
expressive word) in sending for a patent cab, wherein Lewis ensconced
himself, in company with a small lawyer and a large blue bag, and the
trio drove to Park Crescent.
The feelings with which Lewis once again stood within the library of
General Grant’s mansion--that library where he had first been engaged to
act as poor Walter’s tutor--the chamber into which he and Annie had been
shown on the night when he had rescued her from insult in the crush-room
of the opera--the night of the unhappy Mellerton’s suicide--may well
be imagined. Then he had been poor, friendless, in the situation of a
dependant, and made to feel that situation, alike by the open insults
of Lord Bellefield and the frigid courtesy of the General and Miss
Livingstone, his youth, his inexperience, sensitive disposition, and
proud, impassioned nature rendering all these trials doubly galling to
him; while, still more to embitter his lot, came that “sorrow’s crown
of sorrow,” his hopeless attachment to Annie. Now heir to an ancient and
honourable name and an ample fortune, his affection returned by her
he loved, his rival swept from his path without his having to reproach
himself with participation in the act which wrought his downfall, his
mind strengthened, his principles raised, and his faults diminished,
if not eradicated, by the struggle he had undergone, and above all, his
soul fortified by the recollection that, through God’s grace, he
had been enabled, at the turning-point of his career, to sacrifice
everything rather than sin against his Maker’s law, how different was
his position! He received a moderately cordial welcome from General
Grant, which tepid reception was occasioned by a conflict in the mind
of that noble commander, between his strong regard for Lewis, a sense of
the obligations he lay under to him, and an uncomfortable recollection
of his attachment to Annie, together with the moral impossibility of
allowing his daughter to marry a man whose present income consisted
of the savings of an ex-tutorship, and whose prospects embraced
the doubtful gainings of a professional artist; Lewis perceived his
embarrassment, and rightly conjectured its cause, which it was the
object of his visit to remove. But General Grant’s cold imperturbability
had caused him so much annoyance in bygone hours, that a slight spice
of what the French term _esprit malin_ actuated him, and under its
influence he began, after a few desultory remarks--
“It may possibly not have escaped your mind, General, that during a
conversation I had the honour to hold with you before I finally quitted
Broadhurst, I mentioned to you my devoted attachment to Miss Grant.”
The General bowed in token of assent, but the cloud upon his brow grew
darker. Not heeding this, Lewis continued--
“I remember expressing myself somewhat strongly against certain
conventional prejudices relating to inequality of position, which
opposed an effectual bar to the realisation of my wishes. I was young
and inexperienced then--I have since become wiser in the ways of
the world, and am perfectly aware that, in speaking as I did on that
occasion, I alike wasted my words and your valuable time.”
He paused; and the General, who had been considerably puzzled during the
speech to make out what his companion might be aiming at, settled, to
his own satisfaction, that the increased knowledge of human nature to
which Lewis alluded had shown the young man the folly of which he had
been guilty, and that this speech was intended as an apology--nothing
could be more respectful and correct. Accordingly the cloud vanished, as
in his most gracious manner he replied, “Sir, your observations do
you credit. Pray set your mind at rest on this subject; fortunately my
daughter never had the slightest suspicion of your feelings towards
her; and for my own part, I have long ago dismissed the affair from my
recollection; and you may rest assured that in our future intercourse
the subject shall never again be broached between us.”
As the General alluded to his daughter’s happy ignorance of Lewis’s
attachment a slightly ironical smile curled that young gentleman’s
handsome mouth; repressing it instantly, he replied with a calm, almost
_nonchalant_ air, “I scarcely see how that can be accomplished, General
Grant, as the object of my visit here to-day is to make you a formal
proposal for your daughter’s hand!”
If Lewis had suddenly risen from his chair, and with the full power of
his returning strength had hurled that article of furniture at General
Grant’s head, it might have knocked him down more literally than the
foregoing speech, but, figuratively, nothing could have done so. For a
minute or two he appeared utterly unable to frame a reply; then, drawing
himself up to a degree suggestive of a telescopic conformation, he began
in an awful tone of voice, “Sir, you have astonished me--nay, more than
that, sir, you have disappointed me--very greatly disappointed me. I had
hoped better things of you, sir; I had hoped, from the early promise
you evinced, that your judgment and good sense would, when matured and
strengthened by a little more knowledge of the world, have enabled you
to conquer your strangely misplaced attachment--would, in fact, have
saved me from the painful situation in which you have--to which you
have--that is--you would have saved yourself (you must not blame _me_,
sir, if the truth sounds unpalatable) the humiliation of a refusal.”
“Then am I to understand that you unhesitatingly reject my suit?”
inquired Lewis, something of the old stern look coming across his
features.
“Most unequivocally and decidedly,” was the concise reply.
“It would have been more courteous, and therefore more in accordance
with General Grant’s usual conduct towards those whom he considers
beneath him in the social scale, to inquire whether any, and if so,
_what_ amelioration might have taken place in my future prospects
to have induced me to hazard so bold a step ere my proposal was thus
unmistakably declined,” observed Lewis in a marked yet respectful tone
of displeasure; “it will, however, make no difference in my intentions,
as when I shall have obtained your answers to a few important questions,
and explained to you my object in making them, it is possible you may
view my conduct in a different light.”
The General, who grew taller and stiffer every moment, merely
acknowledged this speech by an inclination of the head, so slight as to
be scarcely perceptible; and Lewis continued--
“The late Sir Hugh Desborough, Walter’s grandfather, was, I believe,
your intimate friend?”
“Bless my soul, yes, sir; we served together in India, were for six
years in the same regiment, and lived as if we had been brothers. Why do
you ask such extraordinary questions?” exclaimed the General, startled
completely out of his dignity.
“Because, in that case, you are probably well acquainted with the
circumstances of his family history, and can set me right if I state
them incorrectly,” replied Lewis, upon whom the mantle of the General’s
cast-off dignity appeared suddenly to have fallen. “Sir Hugh had two
sons, I believe; the elder married imprudently, quarrelled with his
father, who refused to receive the lady he had espoused, and severing
all family ties, lived abroad under a feigned name, and was believed to
have died without issue. The second son was Walter’s father, and Walter
inherits the baronetcy in default of male issue of the elder son.”
He paused, and the General observed, “You are correct in your facts,
sir, but to what does all this lead?”
“That you will be better able to perceive, sir, when I inform you that
I am prepared to prove, indisputably, and to your full satisfaction,
the following additional particulars. Sir Hugh’s eldest son, Captain
Desborough----”
“Right; he was captain in the ----th Lancers, and threw up his
commission when he chose to live abroad. It was said he entered the
Austrian army, and attained the same rank in that service,” interrupted
the General.
“He did so,” resumed Lewis, who spoke in the same calm, unimpassioned
voice which he had used throughout the interview, though to any one
who knew him well it would have been perceivable that he did so by
the greatest effort; “but those who believed that he died abroad, and
without male issue, were misinformed: he died in England, in the spring
of 18----, and left (besides a daughter) one son, who is still living.”
“Left a son! why he would be heir to the title and estates instead of
Walter. Where is he, sir? who is he?” exclaimed the General impetuously.
Lewis rose, drew himself up to his full height, advanced slowly till
he stood face to face with the General, and then, fixing his piercing
glance upon him, said, “He now stands before you, General Grant, and
asks you whether, when he has established his rights before the eyes of
the world, you will again refuse him your daughter’s hand?”
Reader, the only little bit of mystery in our story (if indeed it has
presented any mystery at all to your acuteness) is now cleared up; and
the interest ended, the sooner the tale itself arrives at a conclusion
the better. But for the satisfaction of the unimaginative, the
strong-minded women and practical men of the world, who cannot rest
assured that two and two make four till they have counted it on their
fingers, we will write a few more last words, winding up the various
threads of this veracious history.
In his interview with General Grant, Lewis had only stated that which he
was fully prepared to prove; and when the lawyer and his blue bag (not
that lawyers ever do carry blue bags anywhere but in farces at the minor
theatres, or those still more “unreal mockeries,” the pages of modern
novels) were called in to assist at the conference, the following facts
were elicited:--
The packet of letters which Lewis found amongst Hardy’s papers, and
which gave him the first intimation that he, and not poor Walter, was
heir to the title and estates of Desborough, had been written by Captain
Arundel, or, as his name really was, Desborough, to his younger brother,
Walter Desborough (the father of the poor idiot, who was in fact first
cousin to Lewis); the object with which these letters were written
being to bring about a reconciliation between Sir Hugh and his eldest
son--Walter Desborough having undertaken the office of mediator. In
order to do this, it was first of all necessary to disabuse Sir Hugh’s
mind of an idea that Captain Desborough’s marriage was not valid and
that the children were illegitimate; for this purpose the wedding
certificate was enclosed (proving that he had been married in his
own name and by a properly constituted authority), together with
certificates of the baptism of Rose and of Lewis. The letters also
contained an account of his having taken the name of Arundel, and his
reasons for so doing; in fact, without going into minutiae, the papers
afforded complete evidence legally to establish the identity of Captain
Desborough and Captain Arundel, and to render Lewis’s claim to the
baronetcy indisputable. To account for their having been found among
Hardy’s papers, it must be borne in mind that Walter Desborough was
the scoundrel who first roused the evil nature in that misguided man
by eloping with his wife. Hardy, be it remembered, followed the guilty
pair, and assaulted the betrayer of his honour to such good effect as
to confine him to his bed for months; his companion in crime returned
to her father’s house, and died shortly after giving birth to the
unfortunate Miles.
When she returned to her father, she brought with her a writing-case,
in which were letters she had received from her seducer previous to
her elopement; in this desk, for convenience of travelling, Walter
Desborough had placed papers of his own, and amongst others, the
letters, etc., which he had shortly before received from his brother.
Long ere he recovered from the effects of Hardy’s chastisement he had
forgotten where he had placed these papers, and Hardy never discovering
them (he left his home and enlisted as a soldier on his release from
the imprisonment the assault entailed upon him), the letters were to all
intents and purposes lost, till by a chapter of accidents they fell
into the hands of Lewis. The shock which led to Captain Arundel’s (or
Desborough, as he should rightly have been called) sudden death was
caused by reading an account of his father, Sir Hugh’s demise, in the
newspaper. The clue Messrs. Jones & Levi had gained was from a shopman
in the public library in which Captain Arundel had been sitting when he
first became aware of his father’s decease, who gathered, from an
involuntary exclamation he made at the moment, that Sir Hugh
Desborough’s death was the subject which had so much excited him; this
shopman had been a clerk of Messrs. Jones & Levi, and learning in their
employ that knowledge was sometimes money as well as power, sold them
for a couple of sovereigns the information he had acquired, giving at
the same time an account of the strange death of Captain Arundel; hence
their subsequent application to Lewis.
The evidence being so clear and full, Lewis had little difficulty in
establishing his claim, more especially as General Grant, convinced of
its justice, did not attempt to resist it on Walter’s behalf. The poor
fellow himself could not be made to comprehend his change of fortune;
but he did comprehend, to his inexpressible delight, that for some
reason or other he was always to live with his dear Mr. Arundel,
who, when months had gone by and arrangements made which he neither
understood nor heeded, took him to a grand house of his own, where Faust
was waiting to receive them in a great state of boisterous tail-wagging
affection; and when Faust, having licked them all over, and having made
them damp, dusty, and rumpled in the excess of his love, had quite done
with them and gone back to a large bone on the drawing-room rug, and
Lewis placing his arm round Walter’s neck, had whispered to him that he
was never to go away any more, and that he hoped before very long Annie
would come and live with them, Walter felt sure he had never known
what it was to be quite happy till then, which fact he afterwards
communicated to Faust in the strictest confidence.
Lewis’s assertion in regard to Annie was not based on mere conjecture;
for General Grant--albeit he felt that, in the interview we have
lately recorded between himself and Lewis, he had been decidedly
out-generalled--did not again reject his late tutor’s proposal for
his daughter’s hand. On the contrary, with the usual self-knowledge of
worldly elderly people (that is, of those who, nine times out of ten,
dictate the actions, and influence for weal or woe the future of the
young and generous-hearted), the moment he became convinced that Lewis
was about to inherit a baronetcy and an income little short of £10,000 a
year, he contrived to persuade himself that when his first surprise had
been passed, and he had become aware how deeply his daughter’s happiness
was involved, he should certainly have allowed her to unite herself
with Sir Lewis Desborough under his former phase of a precarious
portrait-painter. But if we had been Sir Lewis, we should have felt
heartily glad we had not been forced to rely on such a very “forlorn
hope.”
Rose, no longer Arundel, did not enjoy the name of Desborough many
weeks, for although she had particularly desired to be married on the
same day as Lewis and Annie, she yet yielded the point when Ursa Major,
hearing that General Grant would not allow his daughter’s wedding to
take place till a year after the death of Lord Bellefield, grew so
outrageous that Rose was forced to marry him out of the way, in order to
prevent him from snapping and growling at every one that came near
him. But this was Richard Frere’s last bearish episode; for constant
association with Rose softened his little asperity of temper, which,
having arisen solely from the unloved and unloving existence he had been
forced by circumstances to lead, disappeared in the sunshine of a happy
home.
Lord Ashford did not long survive the loss of his eldest son, and
Charley Leicester, the portionless younger brother, with “a good set
of teeth and nothing to eat,” is now a highly respectable peer of the
realm, with a rent-roll to be computed by tens of thousands. Happy in
the affection of his wife and children (for “Tarley” has already had two
successors to dispute the chance of being “spoiled by papa, only that
mamma won’t let him”), Charles, Lord Ashford, has but one trouble in
life, though that unfortunately appears likely to prove an increasing
one--viz., that those confounded fellows, Schneider & Shears, _won’t_
make his waistcoats to fit him as they used to do, they are all too
tight round the waist--and Schneider & Shears bear the blame meekly,
having only last week discharged an injudicious foreman, who had been
rash enough to declare that their excellent customer, Lord Ashford, was
growing stout. For a short time the Countess Portici resided with her
brother and sister-in-law, Alessandro having obligingly got himself
knocked on the head in the cause of liberty, the reversion of this
popular watchword being about the only legacy he bequeathed to his
young, interesting, and not particularly disconsolate widow, who, having
sown her romance, replaced the handsome Italian by a rich old French
nobleman, Le Marquis de Carosse-Tranquille, irreverently translated by
Bracy, who is still a bachelor and makes more puns than ever, into
“My Lord Slow Coach”--a title which the mental incapacities of that
venerable foreigner rendered unpleasantly appropriate.
The mighty Marmaduke de Grandeville purchased with his wife’s money a
large estate in --------shire, which had belonged to his family some
five hundred years before; he has since instituted a set of regulations
for his tenantry, formed on the model of the feudal system, and if he be
not prematurely suffocated by his own greatness, bids fair to “add a new
lustre to the noble name which--ar--ahem!” etc., etc.
Mrs. Arundel carried out her design of marrying her “blighted
barrister,” and by her liveliness of disposition has done more towards
removing the mildew from his mind than could have been expected. As,
however, in accordance with her taste, they live chiefly abroad, Lewis
and Annie see but little of them.
Miss Livingstone, as she increased in years, grew harsher, stififer, and
more frozen than ever, until one bitter winter’s day, happening to catch
a slight additional cold, her temperature sank below the point at which
animal life could be maintained, and becoming rather stififer and colder
than usual, the first half of her patronymic ceased to be any longer
appropriate--her last word was a cross one.
General Grant lived to a good old age, improving, under the influence of
certain bright-eyed little Desboroughs, into a very amiable grandpapa.
The fate of Miles Hardy still remains a mystery; that he did not die
of the wounds received in the death-struggle with Lord Bellefield was
ascertained; but whether he perished in the Italian revolution, in which
he was known to take an active part, or, as was rumoured, escaped in
safety to America, the few who are interested in him have failed to
learn.
Annie and Lewis, after their stormy transit along that portion of the
_RAILROAD OF LIFE_ in which we have accompanied them, were at length
happily united; their future fortunes yet lie hid amid the uncut leaves
of the great book of Fate; but one thing we may safely predict--viz.,
that whatever trials may be in store for them, they will find in their
mutual affection a source of constant joy and consolation, of which the
lonely-hearted are unhappily ignorant.