ISHMAEL'S ERRAND.
I tell thee, friend, I have not seen
So likely an ambassador of love;
A day in April never came so sweet,
To show that costly summer was at hand.
--_Shakespeare._
Ishmael left Edinboro' by the earliest express train for London,
where he arrived at nightfall.
He took a cab and drove immediately to Morley's Hotel in the Strand,
where Herman Brudenell was stopping.
Carpet-bag in hand, Ishmael was shown into that gentleman's sitting
room.
Mr. Brudenell sat writing at a table, but on hearing Mr. Worth
announced and seeing him enter, he started up, threw down his pen,
and rushed to welcome the traveler.
"My dear, dear boy, a thousand welcomes!" he exclaimed, heartily
shaking Ishmael's hands.
"I am very glad to come and see you again, sir. I hope that you are
quite well?" said Ishmael, cordially responding to this warm
welcome.
"As well as a solitary man can be, my dear boy. How did you leave
our friends? In good health, I trust,"
"Yes; in tolerably good health, considering the circumstances. They
are of course somewhat shaken by the terrible events of the last few
days."
"I should think so. Heaven! what an ordeal to have passed through.
Poor Claudia. How has she borne it all?"
"With the most admirable firmness. Claudia-Lady Vincent, I should
say--has come out of her fiery trial like refined gold," said
Ishmael warmly.
"A fiery trial, indeed. Ishmael, I have read the full account of the
Banff tragedy, as they call it, in all the morning papers; no two of
them agreeing in all particulars. The account in the 'Times' I hold
to be the most reliable; it is at least the fullest--it occupies
nearly two pages of that great paper."
"You are right; the account in the 'Times' is the true one."
"But, bless my life, I am keeping you standing here, carpet-bag in
hand, all this time! Have you engaged your room?"
"No; they say the house is full."
"Not quite! Mine is a double-bedded chamber. You shall share it with
me, if you like. What do you say?"
"Thank you, I should like it very much."
"Come in, then, and have a wash and a change of clothes; after which
we will have supper. What would you like?"
"Anything at all. I know they cannot send up a bad one here."
Mr. Brudenell touched the bell. The waiter speedily answered it.
"Supper directly, James. Four dozen oysters; a roast fowl; baked
potatoes; muffins; a bottle of sherry; and, and, black tea!--that is
your milksop beverage, I believe, Ishmael," added Mr. Brudenell, in
a low voice, turning to his guest.
"That is my milksop beverage," replied Ishmael good-humoredly.
The waiter went away on his errand. And Mr. Brudenell conducted
Ishmael into the adjoining chamber, where the young man found an
opportunity of renovating his toilet. When they returned to the
sitting room they found the supper served and the waiter in
attendance, but it was not until the traveler had done full justice
to this meal, and the service was removed, and the waiter was gone,
and the father and son were alone together, that they entered upon
the confidential topics.
Mr. Brudenell questioned Ishmael minutely upon all the details of
the Banff tragedy. And Ishmael satisfied him in every particular.
One circumstance in these communications was noticeable--Mr.
Brudenell, in all his questionings, never once mentioned the name of
the Countess of Hurstmonceux. And even Ishmael avoided bringing it
into his answers.
When Mr. Brudenell had learned all that he wanted to know, Ishmael
in his turn said:
"I hope, sir, that the business which brought you to England has
been satisfactorily settled?"
Mr. Brudenell sighed heavily.
"It has been settled, not very satisfactorily, but after a fashion,
Ishmael. I never told you exactly what that business was. I intended
to do so; and I will do it now."
Mr. Brudenell paused as if he were embarrassed, and doubtful in what
terms to tell so unpleasant a story. Ishmael settled himself to
attend.
"It was connected with my mother and sisters, Ishmael. They have
been living abroad here for many years, as you have perhaps heard."
"Yes."
"And they have been living far above their means and far above mine.
And consequently debts and difficulties and embarrassments have
come. Again and again I have made large sacrifices and settled all
claims against them. I am sorry to say it of my mother and sisters,
Ishmael; but if the truth must be told, their pride and extravagance
have ruined them and me, so far as financial ruin goes. If that had
been all, it might have been borne. But there was worse to come.
About a year ago my sister Eleanor--who had reached an age when
single women begin to despair of marriage--formed the acquaintance
of a disreputable scoundrel, one Captain Dugald, a younger brother,
I hear, of the present Earl of Hurstmonceux--"
"Captain Dugald! I have heard of him!" exclaimed Ishmael.
"No doubt, most people have. He is rather a notorious character.
Well, my infatuated sister took a fancy to the fellow; misled him
into the belief that she was the mistress of a large fortune; and
played her cards so skillfully that--well, in a word, the handsome
scamp ran off with her, or rather she ran off with him; for she
seems all through to have taken the initiative in her own ruin."
"But I do not understand why she should have run off? She was of
ripe age and her own mistress. Who was there to run from?"
"Her mother, her mother; who could not endure the sight of Captain
Dugald, and who had forbidden him her house."
"Ah!"
"Well, they were married at Liverpool. He took her to the United
States. At my mother's request I followed them there to reclaim my
sister, for report said that the captain had already another wife
when he married Eleanor. This report, however, I have ascertained to
be without foundation. I could not find them in the United States,
and soon gave up the search. Captain Dugald had no love for my
sister. He appears to have treated her brutally from the first hour
that he got her into his power. And when he learned that she had
deceived him,--deceived him in every way, in regard to her fortune,
in regard to her age, in regard to her very beauty, which was but
the effect of skillful dress,--he conceived a disgust for her,
abused her shamefully, and finally abandoned her in poverty, in
sickness, and in debt."
"Poor, unhappy lady; what else could she have expected? She must
have been mad," said Ishmael.
"Mad--madness don't begin to explain it. She must have been
possessed of a devil. When thus left, she sold a few miserable
trinkets of jewelry his cupidity had spared her, and took a steerage
passage in one of our steamers and followed him back to England; but
here lost sight of him, for it seems that he is somewhere on the
Continent. She came to my mother's house in London in the condition
of a beggar, knowing that she was a pauper, and fearing that she was
not a wife. In this state of affairs my mother wrote, summoning me
to her assistance. I came over as you know. I have ascertained that
my sister's marriage is a perfectly legal one; but I have not
succeeded in finding her scoundrel of a husband and bringing him to
book. He is still on the Continent somewhere; hiding from his
creditors, it is said."
"And his unhappy wife?"
"Is on her voyage to America. I have sent them all home, Ishmael.
They must live quietly at Brudenell Hall."
"But now that the Viscount Vincent is dead, and Captain Dugald
becomes the heir presumptive to the earldom of Hurstmonceux, his
prospects are so much improved that I should think he would return
to England without fear of annoyance from his creditors; such gentry
being usually very complaisant to the heirs of rich earldoms."
"I doubt if he will live to inherit the title and estate, Ishmael.
He is nearly eaten up by alcohol. Eleanor, I know, will not live
long. She is in the last stage of consumption. Her repose at
Brudenell Hall may alleviate her sufferings, but cannot save her
life," said Mr. Brudenell sadly. "I have only waited until your
business here should be concluded, Ishmael, in order to return
thither myself. You have nothing more to do. however, but to act for
Judge Merlin in this matter of restitution, and then you will be
ready to go, I presume."
"Yes; I have something else to do, sir. I have to expose a villain,
to vindicate a lady, and to reconcile a long-estranged pair,"
replied Ishmael, in a nervous tone, yet with smiling eyes.
"Why, what have you been doing but just those things? What was Lord
Vincent? What was Claudia? What was your part in that affair? Never,
since the renowned Knight of Mancha, the great Don Quixote, lived
and died, has there been so devoted a squire of dames, so brave a
champion of the wronged, as yourself, Ishmael," said Mr. Brudenell.
"You may laugh, but you shall not laugh me out of my next
enterprise, or 'adventure,' as the illustrious personage you have
quoted would call it. And, by the way, do you know anything of a
fellow-passenger of ours in the late voyage, the German Jew, Ezra
Isaacs?"
"No; why?"
"I need him in the prosecution of this adventure."
"I have not seen him since we parted at Liverpool. I know nothing
whatever about him."
"Well, then, after I have been at the chambers of Messrs. Hudson, I
must go to Scotland Yard, and put the affair in the hands of the
detectives, for have Isaacs hunted up I must."
"Is he the villain you are about to expose?"
"No; but he has been the tool of that villain, and I want him for a
sort of state's evidence against his principal."
"Ah! I wish you joy of your adventure, Ishmael. It reminds one
forcibly of the windmills," said Mr. Brudenell.
Ishmael laughed good-humoredly.
"I think it will do so, sir, when you find that the objects that you
have been mistaking for giants are only windmills after all," he
said.
"I do not understand you, my dear fellow."
Ishmael took from his breast-pocket the miniature of the Countess of
Hurstmonceux, and opening it and gazing upon it, he said:
"This is the likeness of the injured lady whose honor I have sworn
to vindicate."
"Is it Claudia's?" inquired Mr. Brudenell, stretching his hand for
it.
"No. it is not Lady Vincent's. Pardon me, upon second thoughts, sir.
I wish to tell you this lady's story before I show you her
portrait," answered Ishmael, shutting the case and returning it to
his pocket.
Mr. Brudenell sat back, looking puzzled and attentive.
"This lady was the young and beautiful widow of an aged peer. She
was as pure and noble as she was fair and lovely. She was sought in
marriage by many attractive suitors; but in vain, for she would not
bestow her hand where she could not bestow her heart. Among the most
persevering of these suitors was a profligate fortune-hunter, who,
as the near relative of her late husband, had the entre into her
house--"
"Ah! I think I have heard this story before," said Mr. Brudenell,
with the slightest possible sneer on his handsome lip.
"One side of it, sir, the false side. Hear the other, and the true
one. The beautiful widow repulsed this suitor in disgust, and
peremptorily forbade him the house. Determined not to be baffled, he
resorted to a stratagem that should have sent him to the hulks--that
did, in fact, banish him from all decent society. Are you listening,
sir?"
"With all my soul," said Mr. Brudenell, whose mocking sneer had
disappeared before an earnest interest.
"By tempting the cupidity of a poor kinsman, who was a member of the
young widow's family, he managed to get himself secretly admitted to
her house and concealed in her dressing room, whose front windows
overlooked the street. In the morning this man opened one of these
windows, and stood before it half-dressed, in full view of the
street, brushing his hair for the entertainment of the passers-by.
The glare of light from the open window, shining through the open
door into the adjoining bedchamber of the sleeping beauty, awakened
her. At sight of the sacrilegious intruder, she was so struck with
consternation that she could not speak. He took advantage of his
position and her panic, to press his repugnant suit. He plead that
his ardent passion and her icy coldness had driven him to
desperation and to extremity. He argued that all stratagems were
fair in love. He begged her to forgive him and to marry him, and
warned her that her reputation was irretrievably compromised if she
did not do so."
Ishmael paused, and looked to see what effect this story was having
upon Mr. Brudenell. Herman Brudenell was listening with breathless
interest.
Ishmael continued, speaking earnestly, for his heart was in his
theme:
"But the beautiful and spirited young widow was not one to be
terrified into a measure that her soul abhorred. Her first act, on
recovering the possession of her senses, was to ring the bell and
order the ejectment of the intruder; and despite his attempts at
explanation and remonstrance, this order was promptly obeyed, and
the lady never saw him afterward. Soon after this she left Edinboro'
for the south of England. At Brighton she met with a gentleman who
afterward became her husband. But ah! this gentleman, some time
subsequent to their marriage, received a one-sided account of that
affair in Edinboro'. He was then young, sensitive, and jealous. He
believed all that was told him; he asked no explanation of his young
wife; he silently abandoned her. And she--faithful to the one love
of her life--has lived through all her budding youth and blooming
womanhood in loneliness and seclusion, passing her days in acts of
charity and devotion. Circumstances have lately placed in my power
the means of vindicating this lady's honor, even to the satisfaction
of her unbelieving husband."
Ishmael paused, and looked earnestly into the troubled face of
Herman Brudenell.
"Ishmael," he exclaimed, "of course I have known all along that you
have been speaking of my wife, Lady Hurstmonceux. If you have not
been deceived; if the truth is just what it has been represented to
you to be; if she was indeed innocent of all complicity in that
nocturnal visit; then, Ishmael, I have done her a great, an
unpardonable, an irreparable wrong."
"You have done that lovely lady great wrong indeed, sir; but not an
unpardonable, not an irreparable one. She will be as ready to pardon
as you to offer reparation. And in her lovely humility she will
never know that there has been anything to pardon. Angels are not
implacable, sir. If you doubt my judgment in this matter, look on
her portrait now," said Ishmael, taking her miniature once more from
his coat-pocket, opening it, and laying it before Herman Brudenell.
Mr. Brudenell slowly raised it, and wistfully gazed upon it.
"Is it a faithful portrait, Ishmael?" he asked.
"So faithful that it is like herself seen through a diminishing
glass."
"She is very, very beautiful--more beautiful even than she was in
her early youth," said Mr. Brudenell, thoughtfully gazing upon the
miniature.
"Yes, I can imagine that she is more beautiful now than she was in
her early youth; more beautiful with the heavenly beauty of the
spirit added to the earthly beauty of the flesh. Look at that
picture, dear sir; fancy those charming features, living, smiling,
speaking, and you will be better able to judge how beautiful is your
wife. Oh, sir! I think that in the times past you never loved that
sweet lady as she deserved to be loved; but if you were to meet her
now, you would love her as you never loved her before."
"If I were to meet her? Why, supposing that I have wronged her as
much as you say, how could I ever venture to present myself before
her?"
"How could you ever venture? Oh, sir! because she loves you. There
are women, sir, who love but once in all their lives, and then love
forever. The Countess of Hurstmonceux is one of these. Sir, since I
have lived in daily companionship with her, I have been led to study
her with affectionate interest. I have read her life as a wondrous
poem. Her soul has been filled with one love. Her heart is the
shrine of one idol. And oh, sir! believe me the future holds no hope
of happiness so sweet to that lovely lady as a reunion with the
husband of her youth."
"Ah, Ishmael! if I could believe this, my own youth would be
restored; I should have a motive to live. You said, just now, that
in the old sad times I had not loved this lady as she deserved to be
loved. No--I married her hastily, impulsively--flattered by her
evident preference for me; and just as I was beginning to know all
her worth and beauty, lo! this fact of the nocturnal sojourn of the
profligate Captain Dugald came to my knowledge--came to my knowledge
with a convincing power, beyond all possibility of questioning. Oh,
you see, I discovered the bare fact, without the explanation of it!
I believed myself the dupe of a clever adventuress, and my love was
nipped in the bud. If I could believe otherwise now,--if I could
believe that she was innocent in that affair, and that she has loved
me all these years, and been true to that love, and is ready and
willing to forgive and forget the long, sorrowful past,--Ishmael,
instead of being the most desolate, I should be the most contented
man alive. I should feel like a shipwrecked sailor, long tossed
about on the stormy sea, arriving safe at home at last!" said Mr.
Brudenell, gazing most longingly upon the picture he held in his
hand.
Ishmael was too wise to interrupt that contemplation by a single
word at this moment.
"The thought that such a woman as this, Ishmael,--so richly endowed
in beauty of form and mind and heart,--should be my loving companion
for life, seems to me too great a hope for mortal man to indulge."
Ishmael did not speak.
"But here is the dilemma, my dear boy! either she did deceive me, or
she did not. If she did deceive me, lovely as she is, I wish never
to see her again. If she did not deceive me, then I have wronged her
so long and so bitterly that she must wish never to see me again!"
sighed Mr. Brudenell, as he mournfully closed the case of the
miniature.
Then Ishmael spoke:
"Oh, sir! I have resolved to vindicate the honor of this lady, and I
will do it. Soon I will have the German Jew, Ezra Isaacs, looked up;
for he it was who, tempted by the false representations of Captain
Dugald, secretly admitted him to her house and concealed him in her
dressing room. And he shall be brought to confess it. Then you will
see, sir, the perfect innocence of the countess. And for the rest,
if you wish to prove her undiminished love; her perfect willingness
to forget the past; her eagerness for a reconciliation--go to her,
prove it all; and, oh, sir, be happier in your sober, middle age
than ever you hoped to be, even in your sanguine youth."
The young man spoke so fervently, so strongly, so earnestly that Mr.
Brudenell seized his hand, and gazing affectionately in his eloquent
face, said:
"What a woman's advocate you are, Ishmael!" "It is because a woman's
spirit has hovered over me, from the beginning of my life, I think."
"Your angel mother's spirit, Ishmael. Ah, brighter, and sweeter and
dearer than all things in my life, is the memory of that pastoral
poem of my boyish love. It is the one oasis in the desert of my
life."
"Forget it, dear sir; forget it all. Think of your boyhood love as
an angel in heaven, and love her only so. Do this for the sake of
that sweet lady who has a right to your exclusive earthly devotion."
"Oh strange, and passing strange, that Nora's son should advocate
the cause of Nora's rival!" said Herman Brudenell wonderingly.
"Not Nora's rival, sir. An angel in heaven, beaming in the light of
God's smile, can never have a rival--least of all, a rival in a
pilgrim of this earth. For the rest, if Nora's son speaks, it is
because Nora's spirit inspires him," said Ishmael solemnly.
"Your life, indeed, seems to have been angel-guided, and your
counsels angel-inspired, Ishmael; and they shall guide me. Yes,
Nora's son; in this crisis of my fate your hand shall lead me. And I
know that it will lead me into a haven of rest."
Soon after this the father and son retired for the night.
Ishmael, secure in his own happy love and easy in his blameless
conscience, soon fell asleep.
Herman Brudenell lay awake, thinking over all that he had heard;
blaming himself for his share of the sorrowful past, and seeing
always the figure of the beautiful countess in her years of lonely
widowhood. It is something for a solitary and homeless man, like
Herman Brudenell, to discover suddenly that he has for years been
the sole object of a good and beautiful woman's love, and to know
that a home as happy and a wife as lovely as his youthful
imagination ever pictured were now waiting to receive him, if he
would come and take possession.
Early the next morning Ishmael arose, refreshed, from a good night's
rest; but Mr. Brudenell got up, weary, from a sleepless pillow.
It was to be a busy day with Ishmael, so, after a hasty breakfast,
he took a temporary leave of Mr. Brudenell and set out. His first
visit was to the chambers of the Messrs. Hudson, solicitors, Burton
Street, Piccadilly. Where all parties are agreed business must be
promptly dispatched, despite of even the law's proverbial delays.
The Earl of Hurstmonceux and Judge Merlin were quite agreed in this
affair of restitution, and therefore their attorneys could have
little trouble.
As the reader knows, upon the marriage of the Viscount Vincent and
Claudia Merlin, there had been no settlements; therefore the whole
of the bride's fortune became the absolute property of the
bridegroom. Subsequently, Lord Vincent had died intestate; therefore
Claudia as his widow would have been legally entitled to but a
portion of that very fortune she herself had brought to him in
marriage; all the rest falling to the viscount's family, or rather
to its representative, the Earl of Hurstmonceux. It was this legal
injustice that the earl wished to rectify, by making over to Lady
Vincent all his right, title, and interest in the estate left by the
deceased Lord Vincent. This business he had intrusted to his
solicitors, giving them full power to act in his name, and Ishmael,
with the concurrence of Judge Merlin, made it his business to see
that every binding, legal form was observed in the transfer, so that
Lady Vincent should rest undisturbed in her possessions by any
grasping heir that might succeed the Earl of Hurstmonceux.
When this arrangement with the Messrs. Hudson was satisfactorily
completed, Ishmael entered a cab and drove to Scotland Yard. He
succeeded in obtaining an immediate interview with Inspector
Meadows, to whose hands he committed the task of looking up the
German Jew, Ezra Isaacs. Next he drove to Broad Street, to the
agency of a celebrated line of ocean steamers. After looking over
their programme of steamers advertised to sail, and reading the list
of passengers booked for each, he found that he could engage berths
for his whole party in a fine steamer to sail that day fortnight,
from Liverpool for New York. He secured the berths by paying the
passage money down and taking tickets at once. Finally, he re-
entered the cab and drove back to his hotel. He found that Mr.
Brudenell had walked out. That did not surprise Ishmael. Mr.
Brudenell generally did walk out. Like all homeless, solitary, and
unoccupied men, Mr. Brudenell had formed rambling habits; and had he
been a degree or so lower in the social scale, he must have been
classed among the vagrants.
Ishmael sat down in the unoccupied parlor to write to Judge Merlin.
He told the judge of the satisfactory completion of his business
with the solicitors of the Earl of Hurstmonceux; and that he had the
documents effecting the restitution of Lady Vincent's property in
his own safe-keeping; that he did not like to trust them to the
mail, but would bring them in person when. he should return to
Edinboro', which would be as soon as a little affair that he had in
hand could be arranged; and he hinted that Mr. Brudenell would
probably accompany him to Scotland. Finally, he informed the judge
that he had engaged passages for their party in the ocean mail
steamer "Columbus," to sail on Saturday, the 15th, from Liverpool
for New York. He ended with sending affectionate respects to Lady
Vincent and the Countess of Hurstmonceux. Being anxious to catch the
afternoon mail at the last moment, Ishmael did not intrust the
delivery of this letter to the waiters of the hotel, but took his
hat and hurried out to post it himself. By paying the extra penny
exacted for late letters he got it into the mail and then walked
back to the hotel.
Mr. Brudenell had returned, and at the moment of Ishmael's entrance
he was in solemn consultation with the waiter about the dinner.
After dinner that day Ishmael went out to visit the tower of London,
to him the most interesting of all the ancient buildings in that
ancient city. At night he went with Mr. Brudenell to the old classic
Drury Lane Theater to see Kean in "Richard III." After that
intellectual festival they returned to Morley's to supper and to
bed. On Sunday morning they attended divine service at St. Paul's.
The next morning, Ishmael, with Mr. Brudenell, paid a visit to
Westminster Abbey, where the tombs of the ancient kings and warriors
engaged their attention nearly the whole day. It was late in the
afternoon when they returned to Morley's, where the first thing
Ishmael heard was that a person was waiting for him in the parlor.
Mr. Brudenell went directly to his chamber to change his dress, but
Ishmael repaired to the parlor, where he expected to see someone
from Scotland Yard.
He found the German Jew sitting there.
"Why, Isaacs? Is this you, already? I am very glad to see you! Mr.
Meadows sent you, I suppose?" said Ishmael, advancing and shaking
hands with his visitor.
"Mishter Meators? Who is he? No, Mishter Meators tit not zend me
here; no one tit; I gome myzelf. I saw your name in te list of
arrivals at dish house, bublished in tish morningsh babers. Ant I
zaid--dish is te name of von drue shentlemans; ant I'll gall to see
him; and here I am," replied the Jew, cordially returning Ishmael's
shake of the hand.
"Thank you, Isaacs, for your good opinion of me. Sit down. I have
been very anxious to see you, to speak to you on a subject that I
must broach at once, lest we should be interrupted before we have
discussed it," said Ishmael, who was desirous of bringing Isaacs to
confession before the entrance of Mr. Brudenell.
"Sbeak ten!" said the Jew, settling himself in the big armchair.
"Isaacs, you had a beautiful kinswoman of whom you used to speak to
me on our voyage; but you never told me her name," said Ishmael
gravely, seating himself near the Jew.
"Titn't I, verily? Vell, her name vas Berenice, daughter of Zillah;
Zillah vas mine moder's shister, and vas very fair to look upon. She
marriet mit a rish Lonton Shew, and tiet leafing von fair daughter
Berenice, mine kinsvoman, who marriet mit an English lort; very olt,
very boor, put very mush in love mit my kinsvoman. He marriet her
pecause zhe was fair to look upon and very rish; her fader made her
marry him pecause he was a lort; he zoon tied and left her a witow,
ant zhe never marriet again; zhe left te country and vas away many
years ant I have nod zeen her zince. My fair kinswoman! Zhe hat a
great wrong done her!" said the Jew, dropping his chin upon his
chest and falling into sad and penitential reverie.
"Yes, Isaacs," said Ishmael, rising and laying his hand solemnly on
the breast of the Jew. "Yes, Isaacs, she had a great wrong done her,
a greater wrong than even you can imagine; a wrong so great in its
devastating effects upon her life that you cannot even estimate its
enormity! But, Isaacs, you can do something to right this wrong!"
"I! Fader Abraham, what can I?" exclaimed the Jew, impressed and
frightened by the earnestness of Ishmael's words.
"You can make a full disclosure of the circumstances under which the
miscreant Dromlie Dugald obtained access to Lady Hurstmonceux's
private apartments."
The Jew gazed up in the young man's face, as though he was unable to
withdraw his eyes; he seemed to be held spellbound by the powerful
magnetism of Ishmael's spirit.
"Isaacs," continued the young man, "whatever may be the nature of
these disclosures, I promise you that you shall be held free of
consequences-I promise you; and you know the value of my promise."
The Jew did not answer and did not remove his eyes from the earnest,
eloquent face of Ishmael.
"So you see, Isaacs, that your disclosures, while they will deliver
the countess from the suspicions under which her happiness has
drooped for so many years, can do you no injury And now, Isaacs, I
ask you, as man speaking to man, a question that I adjure you to
answer, as you shall answer at that great day of account, when quick
and dead shall stand before the bar of God, and the secret of all
hearts shall be revealed--did you admit Dromlie Dugald to the
private apartments of the Countess of Hurstmonceux, without the
knowledge or the consent of her ladyship?"
"Cot forgive me, I tit!" exclaimed the Jew, in a low terrified
voice.
"That will do, Isaacs," said Ishmael, ringing the bell.
A waiter came.
"Is there an unoccupied sitting room that I can have the use of for
a short time?" inquired Ishmael.
"Yes, sir."
"Show me to it immediately, then."
The waiter led the way, and Ishmael, beckoning the Israelite to
accompany him, followed to a comfortable little parlor, warmed by a
bright little fire, such as they kept always ready for chance
guests.
"Writing materials, James," said Ishmael.
The man went for them; and while he was gone, Ishmael said:
"We might have been interrupted in the other room, Isaacs; that is
the reason why I have brought you here."
When the waiter had returned with the writing materials, and
arranged them on the table, and again had withdrawn from the room,
Ishmael drew a chair to the table, seated himself, took a pen, and
said:
"Now Isaacs, sit down near me, and relate, as faithfully as you can,
all the circumstances attending the concealment of Dromlie Dugald in
Lady Hurstmonceux's apartments."
The Jew, as if acting under the spell of a powerful spirit, did as
he was ordered. He drew a chair to the table, seated himself
opposite Ishmael, and--to use a common phrase--"made a clean breast
of it."
I will not attempt to give his confession in detail. I will only
give the epitome of it. He acknowledged that he had been bribed by
Captain Dugald to favor his (the captain's) addresses to the
beautiful young widow. But he solemnly declared that he had supposed
himself to be acting as much for the lady's good as for his own
interest, when he took the captain's money and admitted him freely
to the house of his kinswoman, where he himself was staying, a
temporary guest, and where he received her suitor as his visitor.
Farther, he more solemnly declared that on that fatal evening when
he secretly admitted the captain to the house, and guided him to the
boudoir of the countess, he had not the remotest suspicion of the
nefarious purpose of the suitor. He thought Dugald merely wished
for an opportunity for pressing his suit. He had no idea that the
unscrupulous villain designed to conceal himself in the closet of
the dressing room, and so pass the night in Lady Hurstmonceux's
apartments, and show himself in the morning in dishabille at her
open window, for the benefit of all the passengers through the
street.
He affirmed that when in the morning he heard of this infamous abuse
of confidence on the part of his patron, he had not had courage to
meet his kinswoman at breakfast, but had decamped from the house in
great haste, and had never seen the countess since that eventful
day.
He said that he had heard how much she had suffered from the affair,
at least for a short time; and that afterwards he had heard she had
left the country; that he had since supposed the whole circumstance
had been forgotten, and he did not even now understand how his
disclosures should serve her, since no one now remembered the
escapade of Captain Dugald.
As Isaacs spoke, Ishmael took down the statement in writing. When it
was finished he turned to the Jew and said:
"You are mistaken in one thing--nay, indeed, in two things, Isaacs!
The first is, in the supposition that your disclosures cannot now
serve the countess, since the world has long ago done her full
justice. It is true that the world has done her full justice, for
there is no lady living more highly esteemed than is the Countess of
Hurstmonceux. So if the world were only in question, Isaacs, I need
never have troubled you to speak. But there is an individual in
question; and this brings me to your second mistake in the matter;
namely, in the supposition that the countess never married again.
She did marry again; hut, a few months subsequent to her marriage,
her husband heard the story of Captain Dugald's adventure, as it was
then circulated and believed; and he thought himself the dupe of a
cunning adventuress, and estranged himself from his wife from that
day until this."
"Fader Abraham!" exclaimed the Jew, raising both his hands in
consternation.
"Providence has lately put me in possession of all the facts in this
case, and has enabled me to pave the way for a reconciliation
between the long-severed pair--supposing that you will have the
moral courage to do your kinswoman justice."
"Fader Abraham, I vill do her shustice! I vill do her more as
shustice. I vill tell te whole truth. I vill tell more as te whole
truth, and shwear to it. I vill do anyding. I vould do anyding alt
te time, if I had known it," said the Jew earnestly.
"Thank you, Isaacs, I only want the simple truth; more than that
would do us harm instead of good. This is the simple truth, I hope,
that I have taken down from your lips?"
"Yesh, tat ish te zimple truth!"
"I will read the whole statement to you, Isaacs, and then you will
be able to see whether I have taken down your words correctly," said
Ishmael. And he took up the manuscript and read it carefully
through, pausing frequently to give the Jew an opportunity of
correcting him, if necessary.
"Dat ish all right," said Isaacs, when the reading was finished.
"Now sign it, Isaacs."
The Jew affixed his signature.
"Now, Isaacs that is all I want of you for the present; but should
you be required to make oath to the truth of this, I suppose that
you will be found ready to do so."
"Fader Abraham! yes, I vill do anyding at all, or anyding else, to
serve mine kinswoman," said the Jew, rising.
"Thank you, Isaacs. Now tell me where I shall find you, in case you
shall be wanted?"
"I am lotging mit mine frient, Samuel Phineas, Butter Lane,
Burrough."
"I will remember. Thank you, Isaacs. You have done your kinswoman
and her friends good service. She will be grateful to you. I have no
doubt she will send for you. Would you like to come to her?"
"Mit all my feet. Vere ish she?"
"At her country-seat, Cameron Court, near Edinboro'."
"I ton't know id."
"No, you don't know it. It is a comparatively recent purchase of her
ladyship, I believe," said Ishmael, rising to accompany the Jew from
the room.
As they went out they rang the bell, to warn the waiter that they
had evacuated the apartment. In the hall Isaacs bade him good-
afternoon, and Ishmael turned into the sitting room occupied in
common by himself and Mr. Brudenell. He found the table laid for
dinner and Mr. Brudenell walking impatiently up and down the floor.
"Ah, you are there! I was afraid you would be late, and the fish and
the soup would be spoiled, but here you are in the very nick of
time," he said, as he touched the bell. "Dinner immediately," he
continued, addressing himself to the waiter, who answered his
summons. But it was not until after dinner was over, and the cloth
removed, and Mr. Brudenell had finished his bottle of claret and
smoked out his principe, that Ishmael told him of his interview with
Isaacs, and laid the written statement of the Jew before him. Mr.
Brudenell read it carefully through, with the deepest interest. When
he had finished it, he slowly folded it up and placed it in his
breast pocket, dropped his head upon his chest, and remained in deep
thought and perfect silence.
After the lapse of a few moments Ishmael spoke:
"If you think it needful, sir, Isaacs is ready to go before a
magistrate and make oath to the truth of that statement."
"It is not needful, Ishmael; I have not the least doubt of its
perfect truth. It is not of that I am thinking; but--of my wife. How
will she receive me? One thing is certain, that having deeply
injured her, I must go to her and acknowledge the wrong and ask her
forgiveness. But, oh, Ishmael, what atonement will that be for years
of cruel injustice and abandonment? None, none! No, I feel that I
can make her no atonement," said Mr. Brudenell bitterly.
"No, sir; you can make her no atonement, but--you can make her
happy. And that is all she will need," said Ishmael gravely and
sweetly.
"If I thought I could, Ishmael, I would hasten to her at once. In
any case, however, I must go to her, acknowledge the wrong I have
done her and ask for pardon. But, ah! how will she receive me?"
"Only go and see for yourself, sir, I implore you," said Ishmael
earnestly.
"When do you return to Scotland, Ishmael?"
"When you are ready to accompany me, sir; I am waiting only for
you," answered Ishmael, smiling.
"Then we will go by the early express train to-morrow morning," said
Mr. Brudenell.
"Very well, sir; I shall be ready," smiled Ishmael.
Mr. Brudenell rang for tea. And when it was set on the table he
ordered the waiter to call him at five o'clock the next morning, to
have his bill ready, and get a fly to the door to take them to the
Great Northern Railroad Station in time to meet the six o'clock
express train for Edinboro'.
After tea the two gentlemen remained conversing some little time
longer, and then retired to their bed-chamber, where, being without
the help and hindrance of a valet, they packed their own
portmanteaus. And then they went to bed early in order to secure a
long and good night's rest, preparatory to their proposed journey of
the next morning.