The interview between Morley Ernstein and William Barham was to take
place at the hotel in Berkeley-square; and Morley had written to
Lieberg, giving him notice that the young man would be there, and
begging him, if possible, to meet him, as the draft was to be
presented on the ensuing day, so that no time ought to be lost.
Lieberg breakfasted an hour earlier than usual, but it was not with
the object of being in time for the proposed meeting, as mid-day was
the hour appointed; and as soon as he had done breakfast, he got into
his cabriolet to drive to the house of Helen Barham.
When he reached the house, he got out and knocked himself, and his
keen and marking eye at once perceived that it was not Helen's
neat-looking maid who opened the door, but, on the contrary, a person
bearing the look, which is very peculiar, of people that are put in to
keep houses, which would otherwise be vacant.
In reply to his demand for Miss Barham, the woman said, in a short,
quick tone--"She's not here, sir--she's gone."
"Pray, where is she gone to?" demanded Lieberg, in a quiet tone, as if
the tidings did not surprise him in the least.
"I can't tell, sir," answered the woman. "Two ladies called for her,
and took her away with them, but I don't know where, nor who they
were."
"Ladies!" said Lieberg, with some emphasis; but the other replied
immediately, with a toss of her head--"Yes, ladies, every inch of
them; that I'll answer for; and so is she, too, poor thing, though she
is not so rich as some; but as for their being ladies, the servant
called his mistress 'My Lady' twice--that's all I know."
"And pray, who put you in here, to take care of the house?" said
Lieberg.
"Why, the landlord, to be sure," replied the woman; "and he bade me,
too, take great care of all Miss Barham's things, and to dust all
that's in the drawing-room every day."
"So, then," said Lieberg, "Miss Barham has left some things behind
her?"
"Oh, yes, a great many," replied the woman, who seemed not to be in
the most respondent humour in the world; "but really, sir, I cannot
stay answering questions all day. I have told you everything I know
about the young lady, and that is little enough."
"It is so," replied Lieberg; and getting into his vehicle, without
farther comment, he drove away.
As he was still a full hour and a half before his time, he sought for
occupation, and to all appearance gave not a second thought to Helen
Barham's place of residence. It was not so, however, in reality; and
as he drove away, he repeated twice--"This is Ernstein's doing!" But
he had now regained all that self-possession which Helen's beauty had
for a time disturbed; and when--after attending a sale of pictures and
bronzes, at Phillipps's Rooms, for about an hour--he proceeded to
visit Morley Ernstein, his look was as calm and cheerful, his manner
as unembarrassed and graceful, as ever. Not one word passed his lips
in regard to his visit of that morning to the house of Helen Barham,
though there was some meaning in the smile with which he shook hands
with Morley on their meeting. To the call he had made on the preceding
day, however, he referred at once, saying--"Well, Morley, I have seen
this fair object of your benevolence, and must confess that her
beauty, her grace, and her talent too, far exceed what I had expected.
I cannot help thinking you a great fool, begging your pardon for so
saying; but I suppose we shall never think alike upon these matters,
and I shall give up attempting to convert you to my doctrines, for
every man must seek happiness in his own way; and I do not see why a
man's prejudices should not be considered as a part of his property
which it is felony to rob him of, as well as anything else."
"Why, Lieberg," replied Morley, "prejudices, I should think, would be
a sort of property of which, like paving-stones in a man's pocket, it
would be kind to free him as soon as possible. But I rather think the
dispute between you and me would be, as to which of my views are
prejudices--which are principles. I do not mean to claim any
outrageous morality, but in what I am doing now, I am quite sure I am
right."
"I hope you are equally sure that you will be successful," replied
Lieberg; "for my part, I think I shall soon leave the matter in your
hands altogether, for I have some intention, ere the earth, and all it
bears about with it, be a month older, of setting out for the
Continent, and taking, what the people who travel and write books,
call 'an autumn tour,' somewhere."
"Why, I thought," said Morley, "that you were going down to the house
of Lord Medway for the season?"
"He invited me," answered Lieberg; "but I am not in a humour this
year, either for stalking after partridges through a turnip-field, or
for the beastly butchery of a battue. The last time I was at one, I
felt myself like the dog that the man shewed about London some time
ago--'Billy,' you know, that killed a hundred rats in a minute--and I
determined never to go to such barn-door slaughter again. But here
comes this good youth, I suppose," he added, seeing the door open; "do
not tell him at first. We may see some of the workings of the
passions, which is better sport than a battue."
Morley thought that it was as cruel sport, too; but the waiter
announcing that a gentleman desired to speak with him, he directed him
to be shewn in, and the moment after William Barham, with his pale,
dissolute countenance, and his long light hair straggling as usual
over his face, entered the room, but stopped suddenly short, on
beholding Lieberg.
"Good morning, Mr. Barham," said Morley; "this gentleman is a friend
of mine, who has promised me to do what he can to assist you. Take a
seat, and let us talk over this affair."
"William Barham glanced first at Morley, and then at Lieberg, and then
at the door, as if he would fain have made his escape; but finding
that impossible, he sat down, and looked doggedly at the table. Morley
turned to Lieberg, as if to ask him to begin the discussion; but
certainly Lieberg did it in a way that Morley the least expected and
approved.
"I find, Mr. Barham," he said, fixing his dark, piercing, intelligent
eyes upon him, with a gaze that seemed to look into his very heart--"I
find that you have committed a forgery, and are likely to be hanged."
William Barham started up from his seat, and stared at Lieberg and
Morley with eyes full of the wild, wandering expression of terror.
"I have it from the best authority," said Lieberg, still bending upon
him the same eagle glance. "Cousins, the Bow-street officer, who is
watching for you, told me the whole story."
The lad sank down in the chair again, clasped his hands over his eyes,
and sobbed aloud. Still Lieberg held him under his dark, firm gaze,
and Morley, puzzled and surprised, did not know well whether to
interfere, and endeavour to assuage the unnecessary suffering which
his companion was inflicting upon the unhappy young man, or not. A
pause of more than a minute ensued, and even a short pause, under such
circumstances, is long. Perhaps Lieberg himself was in doubt how he
should proceed.
"Is it not so?" he said, at length; and then, as the boy sat silent,
he turned his eyes towards Morley Ernstein with a strange expression,
which Morley did not well understand. There was a degree of unsated
fierceness in it, and yet it seemed to ask--"Shall I rack him
farther?--Will you abhor me, and interpose, if I do?"
Morley made a gesture, as if supplicating him to forbear, and in an
instant the whole expression of Lieberg's countenance changed.
"Hark, young man!" he continued, speaking to young Barham, in a milder
tone--"Do you know who I am?"
"No, sir," replied the unhappy youth; "I never saw you before, that I
know of."
"And yet you have used my name for five hundred pounds!" said Lieberg.
The lad instantly sprang off his seat, and cast himself upon his knees
at Lieberg's feet, exclaiming--"Forgive me--oh, forgive me!"
"I will forgive you," replied Lieberg, "upon one condition, which
is, that you at once quit this country, and go to one of the
Colonies--whichever I and my friend, Sir Morley Ernstein, may
determine. You shall be furnished with money for your passage."
"But how shall I live when I am there?" exclaimed the youth. "I can
but do as I have done here, and get into trouble again."
"There is no fear of that," interposed Morley; "some place or some
occupation shall be found for you, which will put you above want, and
if you behave well, means will be taken to procure your advancement."
"Besides," said Lieberg, "your sister will in all probability be able
to do something for you. At all events, I and my friend, Sir Morley
Ernstein, pledge ourselves that you shall be taken care of, if you
conduct yourself properly. I must have no hesitation--this is your
only chance of escaping the gallows, so choose quickly."
"Oh, I have chosen--I have chosen!" cried the young man, at once. "It
would, of course, be far better for me to go and take my chance there,
than stay here, and be hanged to a certainty."
"That is according to taste," answered Lieberg, who could not refrain
from one of his bitter jests, even at that terrible moment; "however,
if such be your opinion, come to me to-morrow at this same hour, and I
will shew you the note you drew, paid by my banker."
"But," said the boy, gazing earnestly in his face, as if to discover
what was passing in Lieberg's inmost thoughts, yet with a look of
cunning fear also, both lest he should offend and lest he should be
deceived: "but--but--suppose you should change your mind!"
"And hang you after ail!" rejoined Lieberg, with a contemptuous sneer:
"it would be a very pleasant trick, young gentleman, for any of your
present friends--such as Neville and others. But be so good as to
recollect, that I have nothing to gain by hanging you: were I a
surgeon, there might be some object, for I dare say you would make a
very good subject for the anatomist's knife; but I am not a surgeon.
Moreover, remember that if I wanted to send you to the gallows, I
should have nothing to do this moment but to put my hand on your
collar, call in the waiter, and send for an officer."
He took a step forward as he spoke, and the boy, in an agony of
terror, started back, and looked behind him, as if he expected to see
the whole array of Bow-street at the other side of the room.
"Now mark me, my good youth," said Lieberg, "and answer me
straightforwardly; will you, or will you not come, as I have directed
you?"
"I will, upon my honour, sir," replied the boy.
"Your honour!" exclaimed Lieberg; "but I have got a better hold upon
you than your honour. Mark me, my good sir, if you do not come
precisely to the minute, you will find yourself at the new drop before
a month be over. The sessions are coming on, and we will make short
work with you, for I will not be trifled with. Do not suppose, either,
that you can escape, for you ought to know well enough, that every
movement you make is known, and I could have taken you out of your bed
last night, if I had thought right, for I knew quite well where you
were."
"Where?" exclaimed the youth, with a shrewd look; "where?"
"Where you should not have been," replied Lieberg, sternly; "not many
yards from ---- street, in the Strand."
The colour that comes up from agitation, not from shame--for alas, he
was past that point--rose in the boy's countenance, and he only
replied, "I will come--indeed I will."
Morley Ernstein had perceived from the first that Lieberg wished to
conduct the whole business with William Barham himself, and although
he might feel a suspicion, of which he was at the same time ashamed,
regarding his companion's motives; yet he felt not only that he had no
right, but also that it would be imprudent to interfere in a matter
which entirely depended upon Lieberg himself. He had therefore
abstained, as far as possible, from saying anything, but he now added
a caution, which was totally independent of his friend's proceedings.
"If you will take my advice," he said, speaking to William Barham,
"you will, in the meantime, that is to say, before you go to Colonel
Lieberg's, avoid all your recent companions; and going home at once,
remain quietly, without setting your foot beyond the doors till
to-morrow."
Remarking that the boy hesitated, and answered nothing, and knowing
what a hold evil habits have upon the mind, Morley resolved to try
what fear would do, and for that purpose to make use of the
information he had gained from Higgins. "I advise you alone for your
own good," he said, "and to prevent you from missing the only chance
of safety. You know quite well, that there are a number of other
people engaged in this affair. Now those scoundrels will be glad
enough to keep you here, in order to get your neck into the noose,
instead of their own."
"I will peach against them all, if they do!" replied the youth,
vehemently.
"That will not save you," replied Morley; "you are a principal, they
are only accessories."
"I will not go near any of them," exclaimed the boy suddenly--"I will
not go near any of them."
"Well, then, keep your resolution," rejoined Morley, "and you will do
well. I pledge myself for your safety, as well as Colonel Lieberg, if
you go to him to-morrow; but if you fail, I tell you as he has done, I
abandon you from that moment, and will take no farther interest in
you. Do you know where he lives?"
The young man replied in the affirmative, and took up his hat as if to
depart, but then looked hesitatingly, first at Morley, and then at
Lieberg, and then at Morley again. At length, however, he said,
addressing the latter--"But I wanted to speak with you, Sir
Morley--can't I have a word with you for a minute?"
Morley caught the quick eye of Lieberg glancing from the boy's face to
his, and he replied at once: "If what you want to say refers to this
business, it must be said to Colonel Lieberg, not to me, for upon him
alone does your fate depend--or, at least, it must be said in his
presence."
"It is not about that at all," answered the youth; "it is something
which nobody has anything to do with, but you and I."
"Let him speak with you--let him speak with you, Morley," said
Lieberg; "I am going to make a call on the other side of the square,
and will be back with you again in ten minutes."
Thus saying, he left the room, and, the young man, after gazing in
Morley's face for a few moments, demanded, abruptly--"Pray, where is
my sister, sir?"
"Your sister is quite safe," replied Morley, in a calm tone, "and
under the protection of those who will take care that no harm happens
to her."
"That is to say, under yours, I suppose," said William Barham, looking
at him with a keen and eager glance; "but I'll tell you what, sir, if
such is the case, I think I have a right to ask, that you should
settle something upon her, that she may not come to poverty too."
Morley grew angry. "You young scoundrel!" he said, "I have a great
inclination to take you up, and throw you out of that window into the
square. You have a right to ask, indeed! You, who would have sold your
sister to a low and vagabond swindler--you, now to talk of having any
right to meddle in her affairs!"
"You are wrong, sir," said the young man, boldly, and with a more
straightforward tone than Morley had seen him yet assume; "you are
wrong, sir; I would not have sold my sister. I would not have taken a
penny for myself. Now that the truth must come out, I will tell you
how it was--a man will do many things to save his life--what is there
that he wont do, indeed?"
"Nothing dishonourable, if he be not a coward," answered Morley.
"Coward, or no coward!" rejoined the young man--"coward, or no coward,
no man likes the gallows, and it was to save myself from that, that I
did what I did; besides, I saw that, some day or another, she would
not have bread to eat. She has been forced to sell almost everything,
even now. Neville offered to settle five hundred a-year upon her, if I
would consent, and to hang me if I didn't. So I had no choice; but I
would not have taken a farthing from him myself, for all the world."
"You are not quite so bad as I thought you," replied Morley; "but,
nevertheless, you are an atrocious scoundrel, and not a bit better for
being a coward too. In regard to your sister, however, if you have
really any feeling for her--and I can hardly think that such is the
case with one who would prey upon her in the way that you have
done--make your mind easy; she is no farther under my protection, than
that I will see she is not subjected either to insult or annoyance.
She is with two ladies who have taken an interest in her; one, a lady
of high rank, and one, a young lady who is very dear to me. They will
provide for and take care of her; but, as to your present demand, I
should be wronging her and myself both, were I to do anything which,
even in the eyes of the world, might cause it to be supposed there
exists any other connexion between myself and her, than interest in
her fate, and sorrow for her misfortunes."
"I suppose--" said the young man; but Morley stopped him at once.
"There is nothing more, sir, to be said upon the subject," he
exclaimed. "I am very likely to be made angry in this matter; and,
therefore, the less you speak, or suppose, the better."
"I was only going to say," replied the young man, "that I suppose, of
course, as you know where she is, you'll have no objection to my
seeing her."
"I certainly do know where she is," answered Morley; "but you will
easily understand that, as she removed from her own house for the
purpose of keeping at a distance from the influence you had so
misused, and from the insulting solicitations which you had permitted
and encouraged, there is not the slightest chance of your being
permitted to see her. It was from yourself and your acquaintances that
she fled; and, therefore, you will know nothing farther about her than
you do know now, till you embark on board a vessel for one of the
colonies. Your sister's address will then be furnished to you; you can
write to her, if your wishes prompt you to do so, and she will answer
you, informing you of her own situation, hopes, and prospects. This is
all I have to say upon the subject, and you must expect nothing more."
The young man frowned upon him fiercely as he spoke; and after looking
at him with a bitter and a disappointed glance, for a moment or two,
he said--"God give you as hard a measure!"
"I hope he may give me just the same," replied Morley; "for I can call
him to witness that I am acting as I judge best for the happiness both
of yourself and her."
"Ay," said the young man, thoughtfully, "I may, some time or another,
have the means of paying you this;" and without more ado, he quitted
the room.
"He is a determined young villain!" was Morley's comment, as Helen's
brother left him. "How strange it is that we sometimes see the gifts,
both of mind and person, so unequally apportioned in the same family!
Beauty, and talent, and virtue in one member of it, and vice,
stupidity, and deformity in another. Who, even in look, would take
that youth for Helen's brother?"
He had not long to consider the matter farther, for Lieberg soon came
back, full of schemes of pleasure and amusement. He had a thousand
things for Morley to see; he had a thousand things for Morley to do;
and it was with difficulty that his friend, upon the excuse of other
business, freed himself from him for an hour or two, in order that he
might, as he had promised, convey to Helen Barham tidings of what had
passed in regard to her brother. Perhaps it might have been a truer
way of putting the matter, if we had said: in order to avail himself
of the excuse he had made for visiting Juliet Carr. He promised,
however, to join Lieberg in the park within two hours, and, certainly,
those two hours were amongst the sweetest that ever he knew in life.
He found Juliet Carr sitting with Lady Malcolm; Helen was in her own
room; and after the elder lady had remained some short time, she rose,
discreetly saying that she would send Miss Barham to hear what tidings
he had brought. Juliet begged Lady Malcolm to let her go; and, I
believe, that if one could have seen into her bosom, her heart would
have been found beating terribly as she made the proposal. Lady
Malcolm, however, replied--"I am going up for another pair of gloves,
Juliet, and therefore I will tell her as I go."
Juliet and Morley were left alone. Strange to say, however, they both
remained silent for several minutes. There was much that Morley
desired to say, but yet the thought that Helen might come down every
moment made him pause and hesitate, and lose even the time that he
had. Juliet, on her part, divined something of what was passing in his
breast, and she was afraid of speaking first, for she knew, whatever
topic she chose, her voice would tremble so as to shew that her
thoughts were busy with agitating subjects.
I do believe that seldom, if ever, has a declaration of love been made
in this world without being managed in the most awkward way that it is
possible to conceive. Indeed, though it may seem a contradiction in
terms to say that imperfection is a part of perfection, yet I do
believe that awkwardness is necessary to a proper declaration; for it
is scarcely possible to believe two persons to be very much in love
with each other, without being greatly agitated at that moment, and,
consequently, not sufficiently master of their own thoughts to act
with calmness and propriety.
Morley, however, at length discovered that the pause must not last any
longer; and, as it was quite out of the question at that moment to
talk of any indifferent subject, he went round the table, seated
himself on the sofa by the side of Juliet, took her right hand, which
lay idle in her lap, and pressing his lips upon it, added the small
word "Juliet."
Juliet answered nothing, but sat with her beautiful eyes bent down,
the colour glowing in her cheeks, her lip quivering, her bosom
panting. Morley was beloved, and he felt it. "Juliet," he
repeated--"Juliet, dear girl, after what I see, need I ask you any
questions?"
"Oh, no, no!" murmured Juliet, turning her head slowly round, still
bent so that he could scarcely see her glowing face for the rich hair
that clustered over it; and, leaning her forehead and her eyes upon
his shoulder, she repeated--"oh, no, no!"
The doors of Lady Malcolm's house were such as doors should always be,
and opened noiselessly. Juliet's face was hid upon Morley's
shoulder--her hand was clasped in his--his eyes were bent in
tenderness upon her--his arm was thrown around her--when the door
opened without their seeing it--closed again softly the moment after;
and they remained alone for near an hour.
Alas! poor Helen Barham!