I thank you, gracious lord,
For all your fair endeavours; and entreat
Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe
In your rich wisdom, to excuse, or hide
The liberal opposition of my spirits,
If over-boldly I have borne myself
In the converse of breath.
SHAKSPEARE.
Lord Latimer had much difficulty in obtaining admittance to Oakley.
The servants said that their master had returned home, but had retired
to his library, and given directions that he should not be disturbed.
However, upon Lord Latimer’s insisting that they should take in his
name, this was at length done; and very shortly afterwards he was
ushered into the library--a long, low, gloomy-looking apartment, at one
end of which Oakley was seated, busily engaged in writing. He rose to
receive Lord Latimer, and, motioning him to a chair, said: “I presume,
my lord, that you come on the part of Mr. Fitzalbert--if so, and there
is any thing else to arrange, you will oblige me by communicating with
my friend, Mr. Sandford.”
“You mistake: it is on my own part I come, and it is with yourself that
I wish to communicate.”
“I own you surprise me: perhaps then some other time will answer your
purpose: at present I am engaged on very particular business.”
“It is on that very business that I wish to speak to you.”
“That can hardly be--uninvited by me, unauthorized by the other
party----”
“My character,” said Lord Latimer, avoiding a direct answer, “does not
often lead me to undertake the management of other people’s concerns;
on the contrary, I oftener neglect even my own: but, at the risk of
being reckoned officious, I cannot allow this affair to proceed further
without doing my utmost to prevent it. It is a very foolish business,
Mr. Oakley.”
“Allow me to ask you, my lord, from whom you have derived the account
of this foolish business?”
“From Mr. Fitzalbert.”
“Then you can hardly expect me to agree with you in an opinion of it
which you derive from such a source.”
“You have not lived much in the world, Mr. Oakley; I have; and
nobody who knows me will suspect that if I thought your honour at all
concerned in the prosecution of this affair, I would put any impediment
in the way of it; rather would I do all in my power to bring it as
speedily as possible to its inevitable conclusion: but I cannot think
it necessary that you should bind yourself down to maintain a few hasty
words spoken in a moment of irritation, and probably without very
accurately weighing their import.”
“But this is not exactly the case. Circumstances led me irresistibly
to give my real opinion of Mr. Fitzalbert. It is not often in the
intercourse of society that one is called to do so of any man; but
having chosen to avail myself of an opportunity in this instance, I
certainly shall not retract it. And having said thus much, I think, my
lord, it cannot be unexpected by you, if I ask what has so suddenly
given your lordship an interest in my concerns?”
“I thought you might have guessed the source of that interest, which
undoubtedly must otherwise appear extraordinary. Lady Latimer has a
friend, Mr. Oakley, at present staying with us, on whose account I
hoped to-morrow to have seen you on a different footing, having been
deputed to announce to you the termination of her mourning. If you ask
what it is that brings me here now, it is anxiety for her happiness,
which I would not see wantonly hazarded.”
“That is a part of the subject on which I have endeavoured to avoid
thinking,” said Oakley, after a deep sigh.
“And why so? Were the quarrel unavoidable, I should be the last person
to bring forward this or any other topic which might unman you; but I
cannot endure that rather than own yourself in the wrong, when you most
undoubtedly are so, you should run the risk of rendering her miserable
for life, who has already had sorrows enough.”
Lord Latimer stopped--and there was a long pause of anxious expectation
on his part, and an evident agitation on that of Oakley, who, at
length, in a softened tone inquired: “What then is the course which you
recommend?”
“It is a state of things which appears to me to offer no alternative:
the same line of conduct which, if I was already acting for Fitzalbert,
as I perhaps shall be, I should then deem satisfactory to him, is
the only one which, in sincere goodwill, I should recommend to you
to adopt--to disclaim most distinctly any allusion to him in the
discreditable insinuations you let fall, and to apologize for those
hasty expressions which afterwards gave a colour to such an application
of your words.”
“That is quite out of the question!” Oakley warmly exclaimed; “humble
myself before him?--Never!”
“It is certainly not pleasant to own one’s self in the wrong, but it is
better than to continue so--knowing and not acknowledging it. The fault
originated with you.”
“But I do not consider myself to have been in the wrong. What I said of
Fitzalbert is what I really think.”
“On what grounds do you rest that opinion? Have you any proofs?”
“Proofs?--not perhaps any positive facts--but besides the enormous sums
lost by Germain within a year, of which Fitzalbert has won by much the
largest portion----”
“That will not do,” interrupted Lord Latimer, provoked at Oakley’s
attempting to draw an inference which he thought so monstrous: “you
yourself must perceive at once there is no argument in that.”
“Well, perhaps not. I do not mean to insist upon it; but to come to the
point at once--whether I was thoroughly justified in saying what I did
without some proof which I could bring forward, it is now useless to
discuss. Confirmed and credited or not, my opinion still remains the
same; and to say that I did not mean Mr. Fitzalbert in what I said, is
a falsehood to which I never will stoop, and therefore----”
“One moment--will it alter your opinion, and consequently your conduct,
if I state to you, that having known Fitzalbert all my life as fond of
play and generally successful, I give you my honour I believe him to
be incapable of any thing ungentlemanlike?”
“That is a point which I had rather not discuss with you. It is a test
by which you must excuse me if I decline to try my opinion. It is
sufficient that if I were to attempt to say I did not mean any attack
upon Fitzalbert, my look would belie my words, and I should degrade
myself without being believed. This being the case, I have only to
return you my most sincere thanks for your kind intentions, reminding
you at the same time that there can be no use in pressing the matter
further.”
At this hint Lord Latimer slowly and unwillingly rose to depart,
saying: “I am very sorry, Mr. Oakley, that we part thus: when next we
meet I shall probably be employed by Fitzalbert. I would enter into no
engagement till I had endeavoured to accommodate matters on my own
responsibility. Having failed in this, and feeling that Fitzalbert has
been subjected by you to odious imputations upon his character, which
I utterly disbelieve, I cannot, without gross injustice, refuse to
accompany him. When there, it will be my endeavour to keep the door
open for accommodation to the last moment, hoping that you may see
reason to alter your unfortunate determination; and then I shall accept
that as satisfactory to Fitzalbert, which I beg leave earnestly to
repeat to you as the best advice I can give as a gentleman and a man of
the world.” Oakley shook his head, but parted with Lord Latimer with
more cordiality than an hour before he would have thought it possible
he could have felt towards him.
When Lord Latimer returned to the Club, he communicated to Fitzalbert
his vain attempt to bring Oakley to reason, without, however, dwelling
fully upon the obstinacy he had shown. “Oh!” said Fitzalbert, “I don’t
desire the man’s life; only let him make me an explicit apology before
Sir Gregory Greenford, who was present, and write by the first Lisbon
mail to my friend, the major, who is off for Portugal, to say that he
has done so, and I am satisfied; but he must unsay every word of it, or
by the powers that made him, I shall certainly shoot him!”
Lord Latimer shuddered as he recollected the consummate skill of the
person who said this.
When Oakley was left to himself, it was in vain that he endeavoured to
banish from his mind those considerations which had been pressed upon
his attention by Lord Latimer. His attempts to do so were considerably
impeded by his finding it impossible even to satisfy himself with
his own conduct in the affair. He had been so long accustomed to view
Fitzalbert personally with dislike, and to think of his character
with distrust, that in his own opinion he had set him down as little
better than a sharper. But in vain he now attempted to fix upon any
ostensible grounds for such an imputation--and was he to risk his own
life, and attempt that of his adversary, in the obstinate support of a
mere suspicion? This was a state of things to which he could not look
forward with satisfaction, and yet the alternative was one which he
could never adopt--to be forced to assert that he meant no allusion
to Fitzalbert in those insinuations which he felt that those who had
heard him must still remain convinced could bear no other construction,
and which, had they been in themselves doubtful, had been rendered
more obvious by the angry altercation which followed. And was he
then to submit to be branded in the eyes of the world as one who had
maliciously hazarded groundless accusations, and afterwards wanted
courage to support them?
This last consideration was conclusive; and though he could not
contemplate the situation in which he had placed himself without some
self-reproach, as well as uneasiness, he no longer had any doubts as to
the inevitable course he must pursue.
Neither of the principals passed so restless a night as Lord Latimer.
He could not at all combat his melancholy forebodings as to how
different a day the morrow might prove to those he had left behind at
Wimbledon, from that which they fondly anticipated. His mind always
required some object of interest to occupy it, and during his present
pecuniary difficulties, and his consequent retirement from those gay
scenes whose excitement had always been at his command, his attention
had been much engrossed by the unexpected prospects of Helen, for whom
he felt a sincere regard.
When he received Fitzalbert’s note, guessing the sort of business
on which he was summoned, he had made his own affairs, at that time
naturally requiring much of his attention, an excuse for going to town,
stating that he should not return till the morning.
“And then, mind,” said Lady Latimer, “I shall not forgive you unless
you bring Mr. Oakley back with you.” Helen said nothing; but the
expression of her countenance as Lady Latimer said this, still recurred
to him every time he attempted to compose himself to sleep.
Wimbledon Common had been mentioned between Oakley and Fitzalbert,
as the appointed place of meeting. Heavily the morning dawned which
was to light them on their cheerless way. The air was cold and chill,
and a fog, unusually thick for the time of year, gathered round their
carriages, and almost impeded their progress. Little communication
passed between Oakley and Mr. Sanford. The latter was always rather
afraid of Oakley; and embarrassed at the task he had undertaken, which
he had only accepted from not knowing how to refuse, and which Oakley
would never have asked of him but from accidentally meeting him, and
not knowing how, at such short notice, to procure another second.
Fitzalbert was much more amusing than Lord Latimer, yet the flow of
his fun was not so natural as usual; for, even to the coolest, it
is no exhilarating destination. “The last time I was up at this
unconscionable hour it was just such another foggy morning. I was at
your place then, by the bye--Peatburn. It rather interfered with my
_shooting_ then too.”
Lord Latimer not making any attempt to muster even a smile at this
misplaced pleasantry, Fitzalbert relapsed into silence, and occupied
himself in watching the progress of the fog, which slowly rolled away
as they approached the higher ground to which they were bound. Arrived
there, both parties left their carriages, and proceeded on foot to
a more retired part of the heath. As Fitzalbert strode on before,
Lord Latimer stopped a little for Oakley, who was following with Mr.
Sandford, and once more addressed him. “I wish you would allow me to
think, Mr. Oakley, that you have better considered what I suggested
last night. It is not by any means too late.”
“Any thing that you may have now to communicate to me, my lord, had
better be addressed through my friend, Mr. Sandford; but if he makes
any appeal to me, I should certainly say that I did not come here to
be bullied, and that any interruption, or hesitation, at this moment,
unless on some fresh ground, must certainly have that appearance.”
Lord Latimer looked at Mr. Sandford, but he could see no attempt, on
his part, at any opening for further negociation, and as they had now
reached the ground, he could only hope that, after the first fire, the
renewed attempts he then determined to make at explanation, might be
more successful, as the idea of misconstruction, as to his motives,
which seemed to influence Oakley’s conduct, would then no longer have
the same weight.
Fitzalbert had been led to expect, from what Lord Latimer told him
the evening before, that Oakley, in his cooler moments, would see the
unjustifiable nature of the imputations he had ventured, and he was
therefore more exasperated at the obstinacy with which he appeared now
to defend them.
It was arranged by Lord Latimer, with the concurrence of his coadjutor,
that to avoid premeditation, the parties should not face each other
till a given signal--that they should then immediately level their
pistols and fire.
At the given signal, Oakley turned round, and stretched forth his arm
steadily, but with what accuracy of aim was never known. Fitzalbert,
upon facing his adversary, raised his hand with apparent carelessness,
but, as it proved, with too fatal precision, for almost within the
same second of time in which the instrument of death reached the level
of his unerring eye, Oakley staggered and fell.
All the parties, among whom was a surgeon, who had been brought down on
purpose, hastened to his assistance. As soon as Oakley could speak, the
first person he addressed was Fitzalbert.
“You had better go--I feel you had--but first, before these
gentlemen--you could do no otherwise than you did. The blame was
entirely my own--most heartily do I forgive you.”
It was some time before the medical gentleman thought it safe to
move Oakley at all, as the ball appeared to be in the immediate
neighbourhood of the lungs; but when a litter was procured, as it
was highly important that he should be carried as short a distance
as possible, they attempted to remove him to Lord Latimer’s villa at
Wimbledon.
CHAPTER XV.
Speak, is’t so?
If it be so, you have wound a goodly clue;
If it be not, forswear’t; howe’er, I charge thee,
As heaven shall work in me for mine avail,
To tell me truly.
SHAKSPEARE.
Lady Latimer and Helen had that morning, after breakfast, been talking
over the future prospects of the latter.
“I only hope, my dear Helen,” said Lady Latimer, “that you may be as
happy as you deserve to be. The doubts I have expressed as to some
parts of Mr. Oakley’s character, have only been stated that you might
early correct their evil tendency, not from any desire to take from
the value of your very promising prospects; and now, having said thus
much, for my letter-writing; for before post-time, I trust, one may
announce it as certain.”
Soon after Lady Latimer had retired at one door, Lord Latimer came in
at the other. Helen’s back was turned towards him, and he advanced
hastily to her, evidently mistaking her for Lady Latimer; for, upon
perceiving who it was, he shrunk back with an expression which did not
escape her observation, and immediately conveyed a foreboding of some
evil tidings to her.
“Where is he?--will he not come?” she abruptly enquired; though it was
the first time that the subject of Oakley had escaped her lips to the
ears of Lord Latimer.
In the course of a complicated intercourse with the world,
Lord Latimer had, of course, often been placed in situations of
embarrassment and difficulty, but he had never felt so unequal to any
thing, as to the painful task of having to break to the interesting
orphan-girl before him the sudden overthrow--the utter extinction--of
all her fond hopes and brilliant expectations. He could only stammer
out: “He is, I believe, in the house.”
“Where? Why not here?” she anxiously asked.
“He is hurt--rather--I fear; but, I trust, not very much.”
A servant came in, whose manner was evidently confused and disturbed,
and before Lord Latimer could motion him to silence, he said: “The
doctor, my lord, must see you again immediately.”
Lord Latimer could not but feel partially relieved by this momentary
escape from his difficult duty. He said: “I will return immediately,
Miss Mordaunt, and you shall know all--but compose yourself--I trust
there is still hope,”--and he hastily left the room.
“Hope!” cried Helen, bewildered. “Good God! what has happened?”
The idea that first suggested itself was of a fall from his horse, or
some other accident in coming down; forth at there should have been
a quarrel--a duel--and yet that he should be there, was an idea that
with no apparent probability could have presented itself. A few moments
she waited Lord Latimer’s return in a state of trembling anxiety,
when, no longer able to bear the agonizing suspense, she staggered
to the stairs. At the head of the first flight there was a half-open
door, through which, she fancied she heard Lord Latimer’s voice in low
and earnest conversation. She succeeded in reaching that door. It
opened into a dressing-room, but there was no longer any one in it.
Opposite to that, through which she had entered, there was another door
closed--they must have disappeared through that--and Oakley must be
there. Endeavouring to compose her scattered spirits, she retired to
the open window, gasping for breath, and overcome with apprehension.
Whilst she remained here, half hid by the falling curtains, Lord
Latimer and the surgeon came through from the inner room without seeing
her.
“No hope, my lord, no hope!” said the medical man: “he may linger a few
hours longer; but he is mortally wounded.”
“Poor Helen!” said Lord Latimer, and they passed on.
She made an attempt to stop them, and enquire further, but the words
died away on her lips. She then determined to enter Oakley’s apartment,
and with her own eyes learn the worst; a moment of irresolution and
maiden modesty succeeded. “This is no time for such considerations,”
thought she. Endeavouring to gather strength for this great effort,
she leant, in passing, against the back of an arm-chair, when, with
freezing horror, she perceived that one side of it was wet with blood.
Revolting from thence, her eye wandered unconsciously to the table,
where the pistols had been carelessly thrown, and the whole dreadful
catastrophe rushed at once upon her mind.
When, by the exertion of the most extraordinary self-command, she had
so far recovered as to attempt entering Oakley’s room, she beheld him
stretched on the bed, his eyes half closed, his countenance, which was
naturally pale, but little altered. She glided in so softly, that he
was not at first conscious of her entrance. She dropped gently on her
knees by the side of his bed, and taking his hand in hers, bathed it
with her tears.
“Helen, sweet Helen!” murmured Oakley, and words of comfort were rising
to his lips; but when he looked at the orphan-girl, and recollected
that he was all in all to her, the half-formed phrase of consolation
choked him, as he felt that such attempt would be a mockery to the
desolation of her heart, and he could only feebly and indistinctly
repeat: “Poor--poor Helen!”
He never spoke more: and when Lord Latimer, a few minutes afterwards,
entered the apartment, having, in vain, sought Helen elsewhere, he
found her senseless on the dead body of her lover; and when returning
consciousness brought a knowledge of the events that had blasted
her happiness for ever, the distraction that followed, rendered her
recovery from that death-like swoon, a thing which it was doubtful
whether her friends durst rejoice at.
CHAPTER XVI.
CONCLUSION.
Our revels now are ended; these our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air.
SHAKSPEARE.
By Oakley’s will, which bore the date of the evening before the duel,
and in framing which, he had been engaged when visited by Lord Latimer,
his immense property was divided between Helen and Germain. To Miss
Mordaunt, was left Rockington Castle, (where his interview with her
father had taken place,) and all his other detached property of every
description. To Germain he bequeathed, with many kind expressions of
regard, the fine estate of Goldsborough Park and its appendages.
After a time, Helen retired to Rockington Castle, where she soon found
ample employment of a tranquil nature, best suited to the state of her
feelings, in restoring the deserted dwellings, which now disfigured
that property, to their former cheerful condition; and it was not long
before she felt to a certain degree consoled, in the active exercise of
that Christian charity and universal benevolence, which brought with it
its own reward, in the striking contrast it furnished to the withering
influence of her father’s misanthropy.
Fitzalbert had hurried abroad the very morning of the duel, and
returned, after a time, much changed in character and sobered in
spirits, by the sad remembrance which, in spite of every effort to
suppress it, would rise again every day, almost every hour,--that he
had deprived a fellow-creature of life.
Lady Flamborough remarked, even during the very first days when people
were still talking of the duel, that, in spite of all his foibles,
Germain had always been her favourite. Need it be added, that she had
been the first to learn the settlement of the Goldsborough Park estate?
Fortune seemed at this time to favour all her ladyship’s schemes;
for Sir Gregory at length made up his mighty mind to propose to Lady
Caroline. It need hardly be added that he obtained the lady, though he
did not at the same time obtain her fortune of ten thousand pounds,
which he was obliged to transfer to his new brother-in-law, Lord
Latimer. For though his lordship had been obliged to sell off all
his stud, yet, in other hands, the yearling colt, against which Sir
Gregory had so rashly not only hazarded an opinion, but betted ten
thousand pounds, won the produce stakes in a canter--and this windfall
was very welcome to Lord Latimer, who was at the time economising
abroad.
Mr. and Lady Jane Germain retired to Goldsborough Park for the
honeymoon, and afterwards passed much of their time at that delightful
place. If there was any drawback to Germain’s enjoyment of it, it
certainly arose from the unfortunate propinquity of Wilcox House. He
was but too often in the habit of seeing in the person of the idol of
his boyish fancy, the mistress of that mansion, a perpetual memento of
the fallibility of human taste. However, he managed so far to outlive
his feelings on this subject, as to go very satisfactorily through the
duties of neighbourhood; and at the annual dinner there, to which he
and Lady Jane were always invited, he regularly availed himself, as a
signal for their departure, of the moment when Mrs. Wilcox (no longer
able, even in honour of her guests, to resist her daily afternoon doze)
was stretched at full length on the identical _fauteuil_ which she had
purchased at Lady Latimer’s sale.
The political changes which have lately occurred, have made Lady
Boreton acquiesce very readily in Germain’s continuing a member for the
county, as there no longer exists any substantial difference between
them.
In domestic affairs, if Germain has not yet learned to think for
himself, he at least allows Lady Jane the exclusive privilege of
thinking for him--a custom in which he is countenanced by many more
worthy men than would choose to acknowledge it: and by whatever
private arrangement such a happy result is produced, it is undoubtedly
to be desired, that those who are to pass their lives together, should
somehow concur in the suitable and timely alternate application of
those two most important monosyllables--
YES AND NO.
FINIS.
LONDON:
IBOTSON AND PALMER, PRINTERS, SAVOY STREET, STRAND.
Transcriber note
Spelling and punctuation errors have been corrected.
Italics have been enclosed in underscores.
Small capitals have been capitalised.