Each act and fact in human nature, and in human life, is connected by
so many links, with everything around, that the man who sets out to
tell a history, if he would tell it completely, has as many different
threads to follow, as a spider in the middle of his web. If he pursue
one for any length, without deviating, he finds that he has left forty
or fifty other branches on either side, which--each of them more or
less--affect the narrative in the end. He has to come back for each,
to follow each out carefully, or else some of the meshes in the web
will be found broken, when most he wants them. Thus must we return, to
take up the history of Morley Ernstein, at that particular point where
we left off to expatiate upon men's miscalculations of the thoughts of
women, being thence seduced away by very natural inducements, to tell
what was really going on in the mind of sweet Juliet Carr; and thence
again, as speedily to recount her interview with Morley on the
subsequent day.
After having thrown down the newspaper, then, and strode up and down
the room for some time, with indignation and bitterness of heart,
Morley began to consider what was the best course for him to pursue in
order to prevent such impressions, as he feared had been produced,
from becoming permanent in the mind of her he loved. In short, he
acted like any other impetuous man. He first became violently angry at
the apprehension of an evil, and then, after having wasted half an
hour in the whirl of passion, began to do what it would have been
better to do at first, and think of means to remedy what had gone
amiss. He determined, then, as we have seen, to tell Juliet Carr as
much as he could tell of Helen Barham's history, and to explain
frankly and straightforwardly his whole conduct. The only question
was, how was this to be brought about naturally? Juliet Carr would
certainly never demand any account of how or why he had fought the
duel, or who was the lady to whom the newspapers referred. Nay, more,
most probably she would even shrink from the subject altogether, if
such suspicions were excited in her mind as he anticipated.
After some thought, the plan suddenly flashed upon his mind, of
interesting Lady Malcolm, and even Juliet herself, in the situation of
Helen Barham, and thus delivering himself from two difficulties at
once. What politicians love does make of us! As soon as the idea
struck him, he saw the whole benefit of it, and resolved to follow it
out immediately. He would break through all ceremony; he would go to
Lady Malcolm that very night, and with this view he rang the bell, and
asked if he could have his dinner earlier than he had ordered it.
The waiter replied, "Yes, sir;" and, as usual in such cases, the
dinner was half an hour later than ever. Morley ate it, when it did
come, as fast as possible, but he had just concluded when information
was brought him, that a gentleman wished to see him upon business, and
ordering him to be admitted, with a somewhat impatient expression, Mr.
Higgins was ushered in with a deferential air. With that careful
eschewance of all listening ears, which was one point of Mr. Higgins's
prudence, that gentleman remained bowing in silence, till the waiter
was out of the room, after which he approached a little nearer to the
table, saying--
"I have done the matter, sir. I can tell you all about it, now; I set
somebody to pump Nevvy himself, for I could make nothing of Bill, and
I find the lad has done that which shews he prefers hemp to lint any
time, by way of a neck-handkerchief. He'll swing, sir--there's no
helping it. He'll swing--you'll see," and Mr. Higgins stuck his hands
forcibly into his breeches pockets, as the most powerful mode of
asseveration which he could adopt. "I don't like exactly to tell you
what he's done, sir," he continued, "though I'm sure you wouldn't
peach, but still--"
"I know what he has done," answered Morley, calmly; "all I want to
know now is, whose is the name he forged?"
Higgins gazed at him in some surprise, at finding that the young
gentleman had arrived so rapidly at so dangerous a piece of
information.
"Why, sir," he replied, "as you know so much, I might as well tell you
all, but yet, when a lad's neck's in jeopardy--"
"All I seek," said Morley, somewhat impatiently, "is the lad's own
good. If I cannot benefit him I will not hurt him, depend upon it; so
speak out, Mr. Higgins--who is the man?"
"Why, he is a friend of yours, sir," replied Higgins, "that is what
makes me so careful."
"Mr. Hamilton!" said Morley, looking in the man's face with
consternation; for he well knew that the crime of forgery was one
which, in the eyes of the banker, however tender and lenient he was on
other occasions, could only be expiated by death. "Mr. Hamilton! That
is, indeed, unfortunate!"
"No, no, sir," answered Higgins, "both he and Neville knew better than
that. The Colonel, sir--the Colonel's the man. No one would ever
believe that any of Neville's party could have a bill of Mr.
Hamilton's, but as for the Colonel, sir--the Count, some folks call
him--being a little bit upon the turf, and a good deal in the world,
and all that, the thing was likely enough."
While the man had been speaking, Morley Ernstein had revolved in his
own mind all the consequences of Lieberg's possessing the power of
life and death over William Barham. He doubted not, for a moment, that
his friend would abandon all thought of proceeding against the
unfortunate young man, at his request; but after what had passed
between them the morning before, his mind could not help entertaining
a fear, that Lieberg might use the hold he had acquired, to the injury
of Helen Barham. He knew that Lieberg would think it doing her no
wrong, to seek to place her in a situation of affluence and ease, at
the expense of what the world in general calls virtue. He could not
help acknowledging, too, that Lieberg's chance of success in such a
pursuit was very much more probable than that of the man Neville.
Strikingly handsome as he was in person, there was a fascination about
his manners, a charm in his eloquence, which Morley himself could not
resist. He felt that it was sometimes dangerous to him, but yet it was
most agreeable; and even he himself, with all his strong good sense,
while talking with Lieberg, lost the clear distinction of what was
right and wrong, or only retained it by a great struggle, which, if he
abandoned for a moment, all his ideas on such subjects became vague
and shadowy, as in that pleasant moment when tired, but not too tired,
we sink into the arms of sleep, scarcely knowing at what point our
waking thoughts desert us. What might be the influence of such a man,
Morley asked, over a young and inexperienced girl like Helen Barham,
when he had the life of her brother in his hands? Morley feared very
much for the result: he had marked, in that poor girl, the traces of
strong and deep feelings; eager and somewhat wild enthusiasms--seeds,
in short, that might be speedily made to shoot up into powerful
passions. Yes, he feared very much for the result! There was nothing
to be done, but to remove her speedily and at once from the scene,
before the attempt to save her brother was made, and his resolution
was taken accordingly.
"There, Mr. Higgins," he said, pushing across a note to that worthy;
"there is what I promised; and now tell me one or two things more
about this business. First of all, how soon is the matter likely to be
discovered?"
"Why, on Saturday, sir," replied Higgins; "I hear it's a promissory
note at a month, and it's up on Saturday. Neville has made the boy
believe that he can and will stop the thing, but he can no more do
that than he can fly. The note is out of his hands long ago. The way
the thing was done was very unfair to the lad, too, I hear. He has a
great art of imitating any writing he sees, and they got him to copy
the Colonel's name, which he had never heard of before, making him
think that it was that of somebody who had been dead a long while.
When he found out the trick, however, and was in so great a fright
that they thought he would go and blab the whole directly, they coaxed
him down by giving him some forty or fifty pounds of the money, which
he went and spent directly with a girl named Sally Cole. Neville, too,
persuaded him that he would take the bill up, though Neville took care
not to be present when William signed the name."
"It is strange," said Morley, "how a set of men, so well known to be
scoundrels as these are, can ever get a forged bill like that into
circulation."
"Oh it is very easily done, sir," replied Higgins, "it goes through
half-a-dozen hands, each of whom make a good thing by it. They sold it
to a man for half the money, or perhaps less; then he sold it to one
of the low regular money-lenders for thirty or forty pounds more. He
again sent it to another, who had a somewhat better name; and then,
when my Lord This-thing or my Lord That-thing comes to him for four or
five thousand pounds, he will give him this bill as part payment.
However, they'll soon get hold of poor Bill, for every one of them
will give him up, and there are plenty ready to turn evidence against
him."
"Then you think there is no chance," said Morley, "of Neville ever
recovering the bill?"
"Not he," answered Higgins; "a thousand to one, sir, it is in the
hands of some banker by this time, and unless one could prig the
clerk's pocket-book, there is no stopping the matter now. The only way
would be, to get Bill out of the way, but I doubt if these fellows
would let him go; for they know very well, that Sir Richard will have
one of them: and as the boy is boots, you see, sir, they think he had
better swing early."
"They may find themselves mistaken," said Morley; "however, I must see
what can be done. Good night, Mr. Higgins."
"I say, sir," said Higgins, with a sly look, before he departed: "Have
you got hold of the young lady yet?"
"You mistake, my good friend," said Morley, sternly; "I have no such
intentions as you suppose."
"Well, sir," said the man, nothing abashed, "you'll easily manage it
if you like. Bill Barham told me he was going to call upon you
to-night between seven and eight; and you could easily bring him to
terms--that I saw very well. No offence, sir, I hope. Good night."
Morley Ernstein remained standing for a moment in thought. "The girl
must be removed," he said, speaking to himself, "and if the youth can
be induced to go and confess all to Lieberg, with an offer of repaying
the money, I doubt not all may yet go well. When Lieberg finds that
Helen Barham is gone, and that even her brother does not know where to
find her, he will of course think that I have seduced her, and taken
her away. Well, let him do so, for the present! If Lady Malcolm helps
me, we will soon convince him of the contrary. In the meantime things
must take their course; I will go to her at once, and see if she will
put herself entirely under my direction, before I speak with Lady
Malcolm."
Ere he set out, he left directions to inform William Barham, if that
praiseworthy young gentleman called, that he was gone to his
sister's house; and in Davis-street he got into a hackney-coach with
the intention of proceeding thither more quickly. That sad and tardy
contrivance for wasting men's time, however, was not at all suited to
the eager spirit of Morley Ernstein, and ere it had rumbled through
more than two or three streets, he made the coachman stop, paid him
his fare, jumped out, and proceeded on foot. On arriving at Helen
Barham's dwelling, he was admitted instantly; for the maid, who had
her own notion of the object of his visits, had heard all about him
from the groom, who had accompanied him at first, and judging that the
arrangement would do very well, took care to be especially civil to
one whom she supposed would be her future master. She even made way
for him to go up the stairs before her, and Morley, who was too eager
to be ceremonious, passed on, and opened the drawing-room door
himself.
Helen Barham had learned to know his knock and his step, however, and
with her pencil in her hand, as she sat working hard at a drawing
before her, she gazed up with a glad and eager look towards the
opening door, to see if her ear had not deceived her. It was by this
time night. There might be a ray or two of daylight still in the sky,
but not enough for her to see her drawing. The windows therefore had
been closed, and the lamp lighted, and as she sat with the rays
falling full upon her face, with her bright eyes raised towards the
opening door, her lips apart and shewing the white teeth, her form
bent forward with expectation, and the fair, delicate hand holding the
pencil suspended over the paper, certainly nothing more lovely could
have presented itself to the eyes of Morley Ernstein. Then came up in
her face the light of joy as she saw him, the beaming of gratitude and
regard, as if to give sunshine to the picture.
It was altogether like a fine Rembrandt, for, both morally and
physically, the full light was all concentrated in that one spot in
the room, and everything else around was dark to the eye, and to the
heart. There she sat, alone--a being, formed to ornament society, to
give happiness to others, to receive happiness from them, to animate,
to cheer, to soothe, to taste, to feel, to enjoy! There she sat,
alone, pursuing solitary and ungrateful labour through the long hours
of the night, with sad thoughts as her only companions, and no voice
of father, of brother, or of husband, to comfort and support her. The
first reflection that crossed the mind of Morley Ernstein, after the
impression of her dazzling beauty subsided, was, how sad and gloomy
must her existence have been for many a long day past! The feelings in
his heart might well have tempted him to take the stricken lamb to his
bosom, to nourish, and to cheer her there, without one evil sensation,
or one thought but for her good; and the reader may well pardon him,
if--although he was guarded by a passion, intense and true, for
another--if, notwithstanding all he could do, there was a tenderness
in his manner, a gentle affection in his tone, that was very dangerous
to poor Helen Barham. She sprang up, she held out her hand to him, she
exclaimed, with a look that told the whole joy of her heart--
"Oh! how glad I am to see you! Do you know, I have found a way of
supporting myself quite well, till I can get some more scholars. Since
I saw you, I have sold two of my drawings to a shop in Pall Mall, and
received two guineas for them. I did not think the things were worth
anything, but merely for my scholars to copy; but as I went past the
windows of a drawing shop, I saw some that did not seem better than
mine, so I resolved to try. The man gave me two guineas at once, and
said he would take as many more as I could bring; so that now, you
see, I am rich."
"I am afraid, my dear Miss Barham," said Morley, with a smile, "that I
have come to destroy all your fine projects; but, do not be alarmed,
it is to substitute others in their place, which, I trust, may not be
disagreeable to you."
The sensation of her position in regard to Morley Ernstein, her total
dependence, as it were, upon him, the power he seemed to have over her
fate, and the right of interfering in it, which he had at once
assumed, never seemed to affect Helen Barham painfully when she was
pouring forth expressions of gratitude for what he had done, or when
showing her thankfulness in word, in look, or in tone. But when he
seemed about to propose any line of conduct, or offer any further
assistance, a vague sensation of apprehension, as it were, a sort of
indistinct consciousness that whatever he asked her, were it right or
wrong, she would do, caused the fluttering blood to come into her
cheek, her heart to beat, and her breathing to grow quick with
expectation.
"What is it you wish me to do?" she asked, in a tone that implied,
"You have but to tell me, and I will do it."
Morley paused for a moment before he answered. There was something in
the whole circumstances of the moment, and especially in the
extraordinary difference between the manner with which Helen Barham
now received him, and that with which she had first met him some days
before, which affected him strangely. Was there again a struggle in
his heart? Was there again temptation? Was there again the voice of
the earthly spirit prompting him to rush impetuously to the
gratification of every impulse without fear or thought of the
consequences to himself and others? Reader, we will not pry-into his
heart too closely; we will not look for that which it might be painful
to find. If Morley Ernstein was tempted, he overcame the temptation;
nor did it reach such a point, that the better spirit was called to
fight vehemently against the adversary.
He paused for a moment, and his heart beat quick--but that was all;
and he then explained to Helen that he had discovered the person whose
name her brother had so criminally used--that he was a friend of his
own--and that he believed, beyond all doubt, he should have the means
of inducing him to stop all proceedings against the offender. In the
next place, he told her, that he still thought it absolutely
necessary, both on her own and her brother's account, that she should,
immediately remove from her present abode, into the country. He
informed her that it was his intention, if possible, to induce William
Barham to go abroad to one of the British Colonies, where employment
of an honourable kind would be found for him; but, at the same time,
he showed her, that if her brother was still suffered to entertain any
hopes of concealing the forgery, by playing into the hands of the man
Neville, he might be kept lingering on in England till it was too late
to save him, and at all events might never be disentangled from the
evil companions to whom he had devoted himself. At the same time he
urged that the only way to make him abandon every attempt to carry out
his infamous bargain with Neville, was to place her beyond his reach
altogether, and not even to let him know where she was.
She listened for a moment in silence, with her eyes bent down, and
evidently full of thought, and then looked up in his face, with
something like a tear upon her eyelashes. "You have been so kind and
good," she said, in a faltering voice, "and have shewn yourself so
generous, that I scarcely ought to ask you any questions, but only, I
am afraid--that is to say, having no friend who has yet expressed a
willingness to receive me, I think people might judge it strange, if I
were to go anywhere with you alone--I mean, under your care--without
my own brother knowing it. But I see you are smiling--I have mistaken
you. But, oh, no! indeed I have not doubted you--I am sure, Sir Morley
Ernstein, you would not wrong me in any way;" and she gave him her
hand.
"Not for the world," he replied. "I smiled at myself, Miss Barham--my
mind being fully occupied with my own plans for you. I forgot to tell
you one half of them, which ought to have been told you at first. My
friend, Mr. Hamilton's illness has embarrassed me; but there is an
excellent lady, an old friend of my mother's, to whom I intend to
apply for assistance, which I know she will give, for she is not a
little of an enthusiast herself in all that is good, and is ever eager
to help misfortune. I will apply to her, and to a young lady who is
now with her, an old friend of mine, and I feel perfectly certain--or
at least very certain--that they will not refuse to give me every sort
of aid in carrying my plans for you into execution. I will go to them
early to-morrow, and doubt not soon to bring you back good news from
them. But let us consider the worst, my dear Miss Barham: suppose I
were to find Lady Malcolm and Miss Carr either not disposed, or not
able to afford or ensure you a safe asylum, I still believe that it
would be absolutely necessary for you, at any risk, and whatever the
world may say, to quit this place, and separate yourself from your
brother for a time. There are occasions on which we must brave the
world's opinion, when we know that we are doing what is right, when
our purposes and views are high and pure, and when, by obeying the
cold dictates of society, we should incur still greater dangers, or
fall into real errors."
Was the doctrine that he preached a perilous one? Perhaps it might be
so--at least, as far as human happiness is concerned; for the laws and
customs of the world are exactly like the military code of Great
Britain, which strictly forbids a man to fight a duel, and disgraces
him if he refuses.
Helen Barham again looked up in his face, and replied, at once--"I
will do anything that you please. Tell me what I ought to do! I am
sure, as I said before, you will not tell me wrong; and I am sure,
also, that when I am away, however criminal you may think him, you
will do the best for my poor brother William."
Morley gave her every assurance. There was much, however, to be
thought of--much to be spoken of, between them; and he remained nearly
two hours longer with her, in that sort of conversation which, of all
others, perhaps was the most dangerous--dangerous, indeed, to her,
poor girl! They had to speak of all the subjects most interesting to
her--of everything which touched her heart, or her feelings, which
awoke memories of the past, hopes of the future, which aroused dreams,
expectations, wishes, sensations, many of them still living, many of
them gone, and sounding upon the ear of memory like a death-bell in
the midst of the night. She had to talk of all these things with a
man, young, handsome, graceful, captivating, full of varied powers and
rich imagination--her only friend, her preserver, her benefactor.
Alas! for poor Helen Barham!