CHAPTER VII.

More than twelve months had elapsed since the death of Sir Henry, when

the fleet returned to St. Helena. The pleasure experienced by his

officers and crew, on attaining this favourite spot, extended itself to

the bosom of the Captain: the mind of Harland too yielded to its

influence; the stern contraction of his brow gave place to the smile of

satisfaction, and, with a heart unwontedly attuned to cheerfulness, he

accompanied the Captain and Frederick to the Governor's, where a large

party were assembled, not only of the principal inhabitants, but

several officers and passengers belonging to some French vessels bound

for Pondicherry, and which had arrived there the preceding day.

Amongst the passengers, the Marchioness de Valois, her daughters, and a

Mademoiselle de St. Ursule, claimed pre-eminence; the beauty of the

latter, indeed, gained universal admiration, nor could the bosom of

Harland long resist the influence of a softer passion. The Governor's

nephew likewise yielded an unresisting captive to charms unequalled in

the Eastern clime; and, uncontrolled by any authority but that of an

uncle, whose partiality ever extenuated his faults, and exaggerated the

few amiable qualities he possessed to the height of human perfection,

he looked on success as certain wherever he chose to prefer his suit.

Harland observed the freedom of his addresses with an eye of jealousy,

heightened by the diffidence he for the first time experienced of

himself. Humbled, yet indignant, he returned on board, and hastened to

his cabin; whence, in the morning, he was roused by the information,

that they were to pass the day with the Marchioness, with whom the

Captain had been acquainted in England.

Impetuous in every pursuit, this intelligence in an instant dissipated

every mortifying reflection, and he impatiently waited for the hour

which would again present the lovely Louise to his sight.

The sentiments with which she had inspired him, he attempted not to

conceal; his conduct through the day sufficiently evinced them; whilst

the blushing sweetness with which she permitted his assiduities, and the

mildness of her manners, so different from the generality of the French,

but increased the passion he had imbibed.

Though convinced she regarded the Governor's nephew with indifference,

he became still more dissatisfied with that gentleman's behaviour toward

her, which he found would oblige him to a declaration to the Marchioness

sooner than he intended; as he wished to have been previously certified

of Louise's sentiments respecting himself, and to learn from her an

account of her family and connexions, with which he was as yet

unacquainted. He could not, however, in idea yield to the pretensions of

another, and accordingly, a few days after, took the opportunity of

accompanying the Captain to the Marchioness, and, with all the energy of

an unfeigned passion, declared his admiration of Louise, and entreated

her permission to his addresses.

The Marchioness, imagining the declaration to proceed from a

prepossession as easily eradicated as raised, answered--"That Louise is

deserving of your highest admiration, I acknowledge; but her station in

life is beneath what you may with justice aspire to. She is an

orphan--without a name; brought up by charity, and received into my

family, at the request of my daughters, as a companion: and I think,

young gentleman, you must acknowledge I should ill deserve the name of

patroness, if I permitted an acquaintance a few weeks must unavoidably

dissolve.--As a friend of Captain Howard, and a gentleman, I shall ever

be happy to see you in the circle of my acquaintance, but never as the

lover of Louise.

"It is now nineteen years, Captain," continued the Marchioness, "since

Louise was found at the gate of the Convent of St. Ursule: the picture,

as we suppose, of her mother, was tied round her neck with a paper, on

which was written the word--"Louisa!" The Abbess caused a search to be

made after the parents; but, not being able to discover them, received

and reared the infant. My daughters were educated at St. Ursule's, and

attached to Louise from her childhood; at their request, when she was

about sixteen, the Abbess resigned her to my protection."

Ill could the haughty soul of Harland brook this refusal of the

Marchioness, which was beginning to raise a sentiment of indignation in

his breast against that lady, when the entrance of Louise obliterated

every idea but of her; each moment presented new attractions to his

fascinated senses; and he determined to espouse her privately, and leave

the issue to Providence, rather than forego his addresses; as love and

pride whispered--her birth must be reputable, if not noble!

The day succeeding this, he accompanied the Captain and Frederick to a

_fete_ at the Governor's, where the Marchioness and her family were

likewise present: but the pleasure Louise's presence would have created,

was destroyed by the marked attentions of young Ferrand, the Governor's

nephew; and, unable to endure the seeming satisfaction, or even the

presence of his rival, which prevented his conversing freely with

Louise, he entreated to speak with her in private, and, without waiting

for an answer, conducted her into an adjoining room. He there acquainted

her with his application to the Marchioness; her rejection of his suit;

and vehemently urged her to a private marriage.

Louise was concerned at the Marchioness's refusal, but declared she

never would consent to any engagement without her approbation; and

gently chid Harland for the rudeness of his behaviour to Ferrand.

Harland could not conceal his chagrin at this second rejection, and

accused Louise of an unjust preference to his rival; against whom he

vowed the severest vengeance.

The East-Indian, who had equally observed the assiduities of Harland,

and equally felt the influence of jealousy, had followed them

unperceived, and heard the whole of their conversation. He now sprung

from his concealment, and would have commenced hostilities on the spot,

had not the terrified Louise entreated Harland to reconduct her to the

company. Though hurried nearly to madness by the violence of passion,

the voice of Louise recalled him to reason; or rather her request,

trivial as it was, implied, he thought, a preference to him over his

rival, which, by gratifying his wishes, conduced to calm the tumult

raised in his bosom.

Louise, though she had given a denial to his suit, could not behave to

him with indifference: on the contrary, she endeavoured, by many little

attentions, to soften her rejection, and which Harland was too happy at

the moment in receiving, to bestow a thought on the motive whence they

arose.

Amidst the festivity which reigned, young Ferrand was the only one

really unconscious of pleasure. Ungovernable in his passions, he could

as little brook an appearance of slight, as Harland could refusal. A

sentiment of respect and awe he entertained for his uncle, withheld him

from disturbing the mirth of the evening by an open quarrel with the

Lieutenant; he therefore determined on a surer revenge than he was

certain of being able to inflict with his own hand.

It was late when the company separated, and Harland, with the Captain

and Frederick, were returning to the Bay, when they were attacked by

four men, who in a moment struck the Captain to the ground. Harland,

whose courage equalled his passions, immediately drew, as did Frederick,

and endeavoured to guard the Captain, against whose life the ruffians

seemed principally to direct their attention. A sharp conflict ensued,

in which their assailants had evidently the superiority, and they were

nearly overpowered, when a man, wrapped in a large roquelaure, hastily

approached. Frederick apprehended an associate of the ruffians, but was

agreeably undeceived by one of them being instantly levelled with the

dust by the contents of a pistol! The stranger then flew to his side,

and, seizing the Captain's sword, obliged the assassins in their turn to

act on the defensive.

Alarmed by the report of the pistol, the boat's crew, who were waiting

for the Captain, followed the direction of the sound, and arrived at the

moment the ruffians, unable to perpetrate their design, fled; leaving

their companion behind them, severely wounded.

Frederick instantly assisted to raise his uncle; and the sailors,

mistaking the stranger for one of the assassins, as instantly secured

him, and, finding the fort alarmed, took the Captain in their arms and

returned to the boat.

When they arrived on board, proper applications were used to restore the

Captain, who had been rendered senseless by the blow; and who, after

assuring his nephew he was not materially hurt, inquired after the men

who had assaulted them.

Frederick, whose anxiety for his uncle had till that moment precluded

every other idea, immediately recalled to mind the generous stranger;

and, with the warmest praises on his bravery, related the service he had

rendered them. The glow of impatient gratitude for a moment warmed the

cheek of the Captain, as he looked round for this unknown friend: but

not discovering him, he eagerly asked where he was?--and, to his great

surprise, was informed the men had confined him till his pleasure

respecting him should be known.

"Merciful Heaven!" he ejaculated. "What a return!--Frederick--"

Frederick flew out of the cabin, and in a short time re-entered,

conducting the stranger, who held his cloak to his face, as wishing to

be concealed.

The Captain rose, supported by Harland, and, extending his hand,

said--"I know not, Sir, how to offer an apology for the injurious

treatment you have received, from the honest but mistaken zeal of my

men, but, misled by appearance, they could not distinguish whether you

were friend or foe. To the aid you so generously afforded, I am

undoubtedly indebted for the preservation of my life, for which I return

my most sincere thanks. Will you now inform me to whom I am thus

obliged, that I may likewise by my actions prove my gratitude."

The stranger appeared agitated, clasped his hands, then, hastily

advancing to the Captain, sunk at his feet, and, throwing off the

roquelaure, discovered to his astonished senses--Sir Henry Corbet!

With a countenance pale as though oppressed by death, the Captain

regarded him, whilst Sir Henry, seizing his hand, pressed it to his

breast, and exclaimed--"Repay the obligation, then, by restoring me to

that place in your friendship I once possessed, and granting that

protection I still must entreat!"

The Captain endeavoured to raise and answer him, but, unable to speak,

gave a faint groan, and sunk into the arms of Frederick; who, confounded

and amazed at the apparition, could scarcely credit the evidence of his

senses, or believe the person of his friend to be real.

Sir Henry, equally alarmed at the state of the Captain, assisted to

convey him to his cabin; and, when recovered, joined his entreaties to

the surgeon's, that he would seek the repose he so much required. The

Captain unwillingly yielded to their solicitations; as he wished to

have had an immediate explanation respecting the re-appearance of one

whom he had so long thought dead; but, Sir Henry promising to satisfy

his curiosity on the morrow, retired--having been previously assured

that his request for protection should not a second time be refused.

Accordingly, in the morning, he attended with Frederick; and the

Captain, as soon as he beheld him, gave him his hand, saying with a

smile--"I find, Sir Henry, I must be doubly your debtor: your assistance

last night preserved my life and now to you I must look for those

blessings which can alone render life desirable. To you, my Ellenor, in

her letter, refers me for intelligence: tell me then what fate she has

hitherto experienced; for much I fear fortune may have in every respect

proved unfavourable."

"Of Ellenor and your son, Captain," answered Sir Henry, "I have little

to relate. At the time she left London with her infant, she sought the

protection of my father, who procured her an honourable asylum in the

family of the Reverend Mr. Blond; with his relict I believe she at

present resides. Edward, when I first quitted England, was pursuing his

studies at the University; which he left previously to the report of my

death; and, with his mother and Mrs. Blond, fled--to avoid the unfeeling

hand of oppression; but where to--I know not."

"I feared as much!" sighed the Captain.--"But Heaven," he continued with

a more cheerful accent, "may yet befriend me. I have by a miracle, I

cannot call it less, recovered you from the grave: and from your hand I

still hope to receive my Ellenor. I am, I find, necessary to the

elucidation of the mysteries Mr. Talton formerly mentioned: the

friendship you have shown to my son, independently of the regard I

entertain for yourself, demands from me the readiest assistance: tell

me, then, what course I am to pursue, and doubt not my proving the

friend you wish."

Sir Henry warmly thanked the Captain for the generous offer. "Personal

protection," he continued, "is all I at present request...." He paused a

moment, then again continued--"I last night, Captain Howard, promised to

explain to you the accident by which you were led into the belief of my

death, and, as far as I am at liberty, to relate the particulars of my

conduct. Of the latter, I can say but little; and only entreat you will

not judge or condemn me by appearances.

"Mr. Talton, I presume, has already acquainted you with the marriage of

my parents; of which I am the only offspring: the offspring, indeed, of

indifference! Since reason dawned, I have drunk the bitter draught of

unhappiness: my childhood passed in sorrow; parental hatred still

pursued me--and the events of one night, soon after the death of my

father, I acknowledge, nearly bereft me of reason! To fly from scenes I

had not strength of mind to support, I left my home, and sought relief

in the bosom of friendship; till a mother's tears won me to return, when

again I became the prey of midnight horrors!

"Long I sustained them; till nature sunk beneath their influence, and

nearly resigned me to the grave! Again I resolved to fly.--'Seek my

Edward,' said your Ellenor; 'his generous hand will sustain thee, and

hereafter bear thy character open to the world!' She accordingly wrote,

and, with the assistance of a gypsey, from whom I procured an humble

disguise, I eluded the watchfulness of my mother, and again became an

itinerant.

"I was nearly three weeks, in the weak state of my health, crossing the

kingdom; as I had gained intelligence you were stationed at Yarmouth;

where I was inquiring if any of your crew were on shore, when the

appearance of Mr. Talton nearly annihilated me! Imagining he was in

quest of me, I heeded not the answer to my question; but fled--and

Providence conducted me to your nephew. Not wishing to be known to any

other than the Captain Howard, whom I sought, I assumed the name of my

friend, which shame afterwards withheld me from resigning, or delivering

the letter I had received from Ellenor.--Refused your protection when

discovered by Mr. Talton, and fearing, if persuasion failed, he would

force me to return with him, I had no alternative but to leave the ship.

Scarcely knowing what I did, I gave the letter to one of the men, and,

hastily descending to the boat, was conveyed on shore. I pursued my way

toward Lowestoff, when, recollecting Talton probably would endeavour to

trace me, I changed clothes with a lad I overtook, and, giving him my

watch, he promised secrecy, should any inquiries respecting me be made.

My intention then was to have proceeded to Harwich; whence I thought it

probable I might find some vessel going to the Continent: but, late in

the evening, I was met by some smugglers. Without ceremony, they

demanded who I was, and where I was going? I answered these questions to

their satisfaction; when, judging by my garb I should suit their

service, they, without farther interrogation, informed me I must go with

them. As my life was fully in their power, I thought it most prudent to

assent with an appearance of good-will, and therefore readily

accompanied them on board a cutter they had lying a little distance from

the shore. Our sails were immediately set, and we passed before the wind

with such rapidity as soon freed me from my fears of Talton. We

proceeded to the coast of Holland, where with some difficulty I escaped

from my companions, and got on board a trading vessel belonging to

Cardigan; and, wishing to see your Ellenor and Mrs. Blond, immediately

on my arrival there set out for Caermarthen, which I reached in the

evening.

"Fearful of passing near the hall, lest any of the servants should

discover me, I went by the village; but, my precaution was useless: an

old man, who had formerly been in the service of my grandfather,

accidentally followed, and knew me notwithstanding my disguise; and,

misled by the report of my death, declared to some of his neighbours he

had seen my spectre! As I was hastening to the humble dwelling of Mrs.

Blond, I was stopped by the appearance of Mallet, my mother's steward;

and, knowing the consequence which must ensue if I were seen by him, I

fled to the cottage of old Owen for shelter. Owen had that instant

entered, and was relating his tale to his wife, when my re-appearance

and voice convinced him of his mistake. He acquainted me with the tale

which was circulated of my death, and regretted the freedom with which

he had mentioned seeing me that evening: for Owen well knew the

circumstances which had driven me from my home; and, as Mr. Talton was

returned, advised me instantly to fly Caermarthen; promising, if any

notice should be taken of what he had uttered, to conduct himself in

such a manner as should effectually screen me from danger. I thanked

him, and, finding Mallet was gone, hastened to the residence of your

Ellenor. But, alas! Captain, it was deserted; she had left her ancient

asylum, with Mrs. Blond, but a few days before! This intelligence I

learned from a servant who was left in the house, and who likewise told

me some particulars, that"--

Sir Henry paused--hesitated!

"I was obliged to enter the walls of Corbet Hall--what passed, I may

hereafter relate; though, would to Heaven it could be for ever blotted

from my remembrance!

"Spiritless and truly forlorn, every hope destroyed, I retraced my

steps to Cardigan; and engaged as a common sailor, in a merchantman

trading to Havre-de-Grace; but not liking the Captain, I left him on our

arrival there, and led a wandering life: till I entered on board a

vessel at L'Orient bound for Pondicherry; which arrived at this island

with others a few days since.

"The restraint imposed on me by the presence of my messmates, was too

severe to support continually: beside the anguish which preyed on my

mind, my heart was with you; I wished to eradicate those sentiments you

entertained from the misrepresentations of Talton, and regain that place

in your friendship I once enjoyed.

"To indulge these wishes, and enjoy the freedom of reflection, I last

night sought for solitude; when the clashing of swords drew me to your

assistance. I first distinguished the voice of Frederick, which brought

with it the idea that Mr. Talton (as he once mentioned an intention of

visiting the Indies) might be with you: as the most probable means of

concealment, I therefore determined on silence; trusting that in the

hurry of their attendance on you, I might unobserved satisfy my

suspicions, and, if they were just, escape again to shore."

"Yet, tell me," said the Captain, "on what account you so anxiously

wish to avoid Mr. Talton? or why my Ellenor so precipitately fled from

Lieutenant Booyers's, on hearing of his arrival in the village? He

hinted that she was involved in pecuniary difficulties; to which

Talton's name was annexed. Is she answerable to him for any money?"

Sir Henry answered in the negative, and begged to know what he

particularly alluded to, as he had not mentioned the immediate cause of

her flight. The Captain related what had passed at Lieutenant Booyers',

and the idea he entertained, that Mr. Talton, notwithstanding his

assertion to the contrary, had proved an enemy to his Ellenor.

Sir Henry gave a sigh to the sorrows of poor Booyers; who, he said,

would prove a real protector to Ellenor till it pleased Heaven to

conduct them to her. "But, alas!" he continued, "the cloud which

envelopes me, likewise extends its pernicious influence to her."

The Mysterious Wanderer, Vol. I · 第 7 / 8 章