THE EAVESDROPPER.
As Eveline Mandeville had mentioned the circumstance of having overheard
the conversation between the two worthies, related, in the first chapter,
to no one but her father, it becomes a matter of curiosity to know how
Duffel had come in possession of the secret. A very few words will explain
the matter. Like most persons who feel a consciousness of want of rectitude
of purpose, he felt desirous to learn what other people thought of him,
fearing his evil intentions might possibly manifest themselves in some
manner unnoticed by himself; and as he had most at stake with the
Mandevilles, he was proportionally more interested in the opinions they
might entertain respecting his life and character, than in those of any
others. He accordingly resorted to the mean and cowardly expedient of
eavesdropping, in order to gain a knowledge of the standing he occupied in
the estimation of this family, particularly with regard to the father and
daughter. He would approach the house unobserved and listen at some point,
to overhear the conversations that took place in the family circle!
He was thus occupied during the conference of parent and child, above
referred to, and learned, to his great joy, that in the father he had a
warm advocate, but with equal chagrin that the daughter had no good-will
toward him; a fact, however, that he had more than suspected before; but,
having taken a fancy to her, and the prospect of obtaining with her hand a
good property being a still stronger motive, he had set his heart upon
making her his bride, even though she might detest him as a companion.
But when he heard the revelation made by the daughter to her father, at the
close of their interview, concerning his association with the suspicious
stranger and probable connection with some secret body of villains, and
perceived the marked effect it had upon the latter, he became alarmed for
the success of his schemes, and seeing the conversation was ended, hastened
away, ere he should be discovered, to invent some plan whereby to
counteract the effects likely to produce a permanent feeling against him.
After long and deep thought, during which scheme after scheme was suggested
to his mind, turned over, examined, and abandoned, he finally hit upon an
expedient that suited his purpose exactly, and at once resolved to act upon
it. For this purpose he sought and obtained a private interview with Mr.
Mandeville, as already intimated, in which he began the development of his
plot as follows:
"I have sought this interview with no idle purpose, Mr. Mandeville," he
began. "You are already aware of the deep interest I feel in your daughter,
and how intimately my future happiness is interwoven with her good
opinion. That good opinion, I have the best of evidence to believe, is
being undermined by one to whom you have ever been kind, but who, I am
sure, you would not wish to become your son-in-law, though he has the
audacity--if I may be allowed so strong an expression--to aspire after your
daughter's hand! Having nothing of his own to recommend him, and knowing
that I am in his way, he does not cease to traduce me to your daughter on
every occasion, and I fear the insidious poison of his oily tongue has
already had a serious effect on her mind, which, if not put an end to, will
turn her good opinion of me into dislike or even aversion. Why it was but a
few days ago that he and another fellow, a stranger in these parts, and a
very suspicious-looking chap, had a conference in private, of, to say the
best of it, a very sinister character; and, would you believe it, this
fellow disguised himself so as to appear the very personation of myself?
"I was struck dumb, sir, when these facts were put in my possession by one
of my workmen, who happened to see the villains and overhear a part of
their talk. But the worst of the story remains to be told. Either by chance
or design--and with the facts in the case I leave you to determine
which--these confederates placed themselves near a bower to which your
daughter had resorted but a few minutes previously, so that she, however
unwillingly, must have heard a good portion of what passed between them!
Only think of it! She for whom I would sacrifice all else, beholding me, as
she must suppose, under such criminal aspects!"
This most artfully told tale was not without its effect upon the father. He
believed it: how could he help it when so strongly corroborated by what his
daughter had previously told him? At the conclusion of it, he demanded,
with something of vehemence in his manner:
"Who was the despicable villain that thus dared to plot against the
interest of my family?"
"Ah, there is the difficulty," said Duffel, craftily. "I fear to divulge
names for several reasons. In the first place, I know you cannot but feel
highly indignant, and will desire to punish the criminal as he deserves;
but I have no proof that will stand in law, and--!"
"Will not the testimony of my daughter added to yours be sufficient to
convict the rascal, I'd like to know?"
"You forget that your daughter's testimony would criminate me--that she
must fully believe it was I, and no other, that was in conversation with
the stranger; for I am told that the disguise was perfect, so much so that
it is impossible your daughter should not be deceived."
"I see the difficulty."
"Well, as I was going to say, being unable to substantiate my charges, I
would lay myself liable to prosecution for slander, which must be far from
pleasant, beside giving my adversary a decided advantage over me. In the
next place, my name would be coupled with those of blacklegs and secret
villains, a circumstance far more to be dreaded than the other. But I have
a still higher motive for wishing this affair to be kept quiet--your
daughter's welfare and fair name. Pardon me for being compelled to speak of
her in this connection; it is, I assure you, sorely afflicting to me; but I
shall strive to do my duty, even with the fear of offending before my eyes.
As already shown, your daughter's evidence, either publicly or privately
given, must lay upon me the weight of crime; in addition to this, I must
now undertake the formidable task of informing you that my enemy, who I
have already told you has an eye to your daughter's hand, is regarded by
her with favor. Do not be startled; I am but telling you the plain truth,
which, unless a stop can be put to the plotting now on foot, you will but
too soon find out to your sorrow. This fellow, who desires to rival me in
the affections of your daughter, has been pouring into her ear tales of
every sort to prejudice her against me--and I fear with but too much
success. Lately, she avoids me whenever it is convenient to do so, while
she often walks out with my--no, he is too contemptible to be called a
rival.
"You now see the state of the case; you see on what a slippery place I
stand, and how much need there is of being wary and cautious where and how
I step. My fair name is in danger of being tarnished; my prospects for life
blighted; my hopes destroyed and myself suspected of being the associate
of villains. And all this has been so artfully contrived, I find myself in
the meshes of the net woven to entrap me, ere I had become aware of any
designs being formed against me, or that I had enemies who were endeavoring
to compass my ruin; and, worse than all, when these overwhelming truths are
made manifest to me, and my very soul burns to extricate myself from the
difficulties that surround me, and fasten the crime where it belongs, and
crush the miscreant with his own guilt, I am tied. So encircled am I, that
every attempt I might make to escape the toils of the cowardly foe who has
laid his plans so deep and darkly, will only add to the horrors of my
situation. Pardon me, then, for withholding the name of him who is striving
to rum me; but oh, if possible, save your daughter from his grasp!"
"How can I without knowing his name? Eveline has much company and many
admirers; but of all the number, I can fix upon no one to suspect."
"There it is again! My God! what am I to do?"--and with these words, Duffel
paced up and down in the greatest apparent distress.
"You surely can trust _me_ with his name?" suggested Mr. Mandeville.
"True, I can trust you with anything, only that I fear your indignation
will betray me."
"Never fear; for once I will keep cool at all hazards."
"I make one solemn condition: you must never, under any circumstances,
reveal the name of your informant to either your daughter or my enemy."
"Why this restriction?"
"I have already explained why as far as _he_ is concerned."
"But Eveline?"
"Oh, I have a different reason for desiring her to be kept ignorant of my
connection with her friend's exposure,"--and as he said this, the fellow
actually blushed and seemed much embarrassed.
"I do not understand you."
"Well, you see this friend of hers--I must again ask pardon for associating
her name with his so frequently, be reassured I do it with pain--as I have
already remarked, has ingratiated himself into her good opinion, and
knowing me to be in the way of the accomplishment of his wishes, he has
prejudiced her against me, and done so in such a manner as to induce the
belief in her mind that I am his bitterest enemy, and would use any means
to do him an injury or blacken his character. Hence, if she were to know
that anything came through me, she would at once set it down as false and
slanderous, which would drive her farther from me and nearer to the other,
thereby hastening the very calamity we would avert."
"I see you are right, having given more attention to the subject than I
have. I will never mention your name in connection with this matter, to
either my daughter or any other, without your permission."
"Thank you. Leaving all after action on your part to be as your judgment
shall dictate, I have nothing more left me to do in this trying interview,
than to reveal the name of the intriguer--it is Charles Hadley."
"_Charles Hadley!_" exclaimed the father in astonishment.
"It is none other than he."
"I could hardly have believed it of him."
"Nor I. Such depth of depravity is truly inconceivable to an honorable
mind."
"I remember now, he has been somewhat familiar with Eveline; but I had no
idea the beggarly dog would dare think of marrying her. I must see to this
immediately."
"Remember to be cautious for my sake."
"Don't fear on that ground."
Thus the interview ended, Duffel having accomplished more by it than he had
expected. The more Mr. Mandeville thought on the subject, the more
thoroughly he became convinced of Hadley's guilt. Did not Duffel's
statement correspond precisely with that of his daughter? and how could it
be so without being true? It was an impossibility. The more he reflected,
the deeper became his conviction of the guilt of Hadley and of the
existence of a plot to defame Duffel. Another idea suggested itself: "Was
his daughter an intentional or an unintentional party to these
transactions? Might not her dislike of Duffel and her preference for Hadley
induce her to seek for some means to accomplish the disgrace of the
former?" While he was weighing this supposition in the balance of his mind,
he chanced to see his daughter walking with Hadley, and their manner of
conversation and the evident good-will existing between them, led him, in
his bewildered state, to conclude that Eveline was not as free from
implication as she might be. After harboring this thought for a day or two
longer, he charged her with the crime of confederating to injure Duffel, as
already related. Had he known that Duffel's story was made so fitly apt,
simply because he had basely eavesdropped and sacrilegiously listened to
the sanctitude of a conversation at the domestic hearth, how different
would have been the result!