The first moments of leisure that McElvina could obtain from his duties
were employed in writing to the vicar, informing him of the reappearance
of Seymour, under such peculiar circumstances; and requesting his
immediate presence, that our hero's claims to the property of Admiral de
Courcy might be established. As before observed, Rainscourt was not at
the castle, nor was he expected for some days, having accepted an
invitation to join a shooting party some miles distant. A letter was
despatched to him by his daughter, detailing the circumstances of the
shipwreck, stating that the wounded officer was in the castle, and that,
in consequence, until his return, Mrs McElvina would remain as her
companion.
Although the wound that Seymour had received had been pronounced by the
surgeon not to be of a dangerous tendency, still, he did not recover so
rapidly as might have been expected from his youth and excellent
constitution. The fact was, that all his love for Emily, who was
constantly at his side, and could not conceal her regard for him, had
returned with tenfold violence. The same honourable principle which had
before decided him--that of not taking advantage of her prepossession in
his favour, and permitting her to throw away herself and her large
fortune upon one of unknown parentage and penniless condition,--
militated against his passion, and caused such a tumult of contending
feelings, as could not but affect a person in his weak state. A slow
fever came on, which retarded the cure, and even threatened more serious
consequences.
Madame de Stael has truly observed, that love occupies the whole life of
a woman. It is not therefore surprising that women should be more
skilful in detecting the symptoms of it in others. Mrs McElvina, with
the usual penetration of her sex, discovered what was passing in the
mind of Seymour, and communicated her suspicions to her husband. As for
some days the health of our hero rather declined than improved, McElvina
determined to entrust him with the secret of his birth, which, by
removing all difficulties, he imagined would produce a beneficial
effect. But there was one point which McElvina could not conceal from
our hero, which was the melancholy fact of his father having, under an
assumed name, fallen a sacrifice to the offended laws of his country;
and the knowledge of this had so serious an effect upon Seymour, as
almost to neutralise the joy arising from the rest of the communication.
The first question which he asked himself was, whether Emily would or
ought to marry a man whose father had perished by so ignominious a
death; and, now that all other impediments to his making her an offer of
his hand were removed, whether that circumstance alone would not be an
insuperable bar to their union. Agitated by these conflicting doubts
Seymour passed a sleepless night, and on the ensuing morning his fever
had alarmingly increased. This was observed by the surgeon, who stated
that he could not account for it, except by supposing that there was
something heavy on the mind of his patient, which, unless removed, would
retard, if not prevent, recovery.
Susan, who with her husband had imagined that the disclosure which had
taken place would have had a beneficial effect, hastened to the sick
chamber, and soon persuaded our hero to make her a confidant of his
doubts and fears. "There is but one who can satisfy you on that point,
my dear William," replied she; "for although I feel convinced that I can
answer for her, it is not exactly a case of proxy--McElvina will be here
directly, and then I will obtain his permission to disclose the whole to
Emily, and you will have the answer from her own lips."
In the course of the forenoon, Emily was made acquainted with the
eventful history of our hero's birth and parentage--of her no longer
being an heiress--of his ardent love for her, and of the fears that he
entertained upon the subject.
"I am only sorry for one thing," replied Emily, "that he did not ask me
to marry him when I thought that I was an heiress--now, if I accept him,
I am afraid it may be thought--oh, if you knew how I have loved him--how
I have thought of him when far away," cried the sobbing girl, "you would
not--no one would think me capable of interested motives.--I am so glad
the property is his," continued Emily, looking and smiling through her
tears.
"Why, my dear Emily, if you begin to make difficulties, we shall be
worse than ever. There never was a more fortunate occurrence than this
attachment between you and Seymour. It reconciles all difficulties,
puts an end to all Chancery suits, and will shower general happiness,
when some at least must have been made miserable. Come with me--William
is very feverish this morning: you only can do him good."
Mrs McElvina led the agitated girl into the sick chamber, and
whispering to Seymour that Emily knew all, and that all was well, was so
very imprudent as to allow her feelings to overcome her sense of
chaperonism, and left them together.
I am aware that I now have a fair opportunity of inserting a most
interesting conversation, full of _ohs_ and _ahs, dears_ and _sweets_,
etcetera, which would be much relished by all misses of seventeen, or
thereabouts; but as I do not write novels for them, and the young couple
have no secrets to which the reader is not already a party, I shall
leave them to imagine the explanation, with all its concomitant
retrospections and anticipations, softened with tears and sweetened with
kisses; and, as the plot now thickens, change the scene to the
dressing-room of Rainscourt, who had now just risen, at his usual hour,
viz., between two and three in the afternoon. His French valet is in
attendance shaving him, and dressing his hair, and communicating what
little intelligence he has been enabled to collect for his master's
amusement.
"Monsieur has not seen the young officer who was wounded?"
"No; I wonder why they brought him up here. What sort of a person is
he?"
"_C'est un joli garcon, Monsieur, avec l'air bien distingue_.--I carried
in the water this morning when his wound was dressed, for I had the
curiosity to see him--_C'est un diable de blessure_--and the young
officer has a very singular mark on his right shoulder, like--_comment
l'appelez-vous?--pied du corbeau_."
Rainscourt started under the operation of the razor: he remembered the
mark of the grandchild, so minutely described by the vicar.
"_Pardon, Monsieur, ce n'est pas ma faute_," said the valet, applying a
napkin to stanch the blood which flowed from his master's cheek.
"It was not," replied Rainscourt, recovering himself; "I had a slight
spasm."
The operation was continued, and fortunately had just been finished when
the valet resumed,--"_Et rappelez-vous Monsieur le Vicaire de ---. Il
est arrive hier au soir_, on a visit to Mr McElvina."
"The devil he is?" replied Rainscourt, springing from his chair, at the
corroborating incident to his previous ground of alarm.
The astonished countenance of the valet restored the master to his
senses. "Bring me my coffee--I am nervous this morning."
But Rainscourt had not long to endure suspense. He had barely finished
his toilet, when he was informed that the vicar, McElvina, and some
other gentlemen, were below, and wished to speak to him. Rainscourt,
anxious to know the worst, descended to the library, where he found the
parties before mentioned, accompanied by Debriseau and a legal
gentleman. We shall not enter into details. To the dismay of
Rainscourt, the identity of our hero was established beyond all doubt,
and he felt convinced that eventually he should be forced to surrender
up the property. His indignation was chiefly levelled at McElvina, whom
he considered as the occasion of the whole, not only from having rescued
our hero from the wreck, but because it was by his assertions,
corroborated by Debriseau, that the chain of evidence was clearly
substantiated. McElvina, who, from long acquaintance, had a feeling
towards Rainscourt which his conduct did not deserve, waited only for
his acknowledgment of our hero's claim to communicate the circumstance
of the attachment between the young people, which would have barred all
further proceedings, and have settled it in an amicable arrangement.
"Well, gentlemen," observed Rainscourt, "if you can satisfactorily prove
in a court of justice all you have now stated, I shall of course bow to
its decision; but you must excuse me if, out of regard to my daughter, I
resist, until the assertions can be substantiated on oath. You cannot
expect otherwise."
"We do not expect otherwise, Mr Rainscourt," replied McElvina,--"but we
think it will not be necessary that it should go into court."
"Mr McElvina," interrupted Rainscourt, angrily,--"I wish no
observations from you. After your intimacy with the family,
particularly with my daughter, who, by your means, will probably forfeit
all her prospects, I consider your conduct base and treacherous. You'll
excuse my ringing the bell for the servant to show you the door."
McElvina turned pale with rage. "Then, sir, you shall have no
suggestions from me. Come, gentlemen, we will retire," continued
McElvina, now determined that Rainscourt should be left in ignorance for
the present; and the parties quitted the room, little contemplating that
such direful consequences would ensue from this trifling altercation.