COLLECTION OF BRITISH AUTHORS.
VOL. 803.
GUY DEVERELL BY J. S. LE FANU.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
* * * * *
GUY DEVERELL.
BY J. S. LE FANU,
AUTHOR OF "UNCLE SILAS," ETC.
_COPYRIGHT EDITION._
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
LEIPZIG BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ
1865.
_The Right of Translation is reserved._
CONTENTS OF VOLUME II.
I. Lady Alice and Varbarriere tête-à-tête in the
Library 1
II. M. Varbarriere orders his Wings 8
III. Monsieur Varbarriere talks with Donica Gwynn 16
IV. A Story of a Magician and a Vampire 26
V. Farewell 37
VI. At the Bell and Horns 44
VII. M. Varbarriere's Plans 51
VIII. Tempest 58
IX. Guy Deverell at Slowton 66
X. Uncle and Nephew 73
XI. In Lady Mary's Boudoir 81
XII. The Guests together 88
XIII. A Visitor in the Library 97
XIV. Pelter opens his Mind 106
XV. The Pipe of Peace 112
XVI. A Rencontre in the Gallery 120
XVII. Old Donnie and Lady Jane 127
XVIII. Alone--Yet not alone 135
XIX. Varbarriere the Tyrant debates with the weaker
Varbarrieres 142
XX. M. Varbarriere decides 150
XXI. At the Green Chamber 158
XXII. In the Green Chamber 167
XXIII. The Morning 174
XXIV. The Doctor's Visit 180
XXV. The Patient interrogated 188
XXVI. General Lennox appears 196
XXVII. Lady Alice Redcliffe makes General Lennox's
Acquaintance 203
XXVIII. The Bishop sees the Patient 211
XXIX. In the Yard of the Marlowe Arms 219
XXX. About Lady Jane 227
XXXI. Lady Jane's Toilet 234
XXXII. The two Doctors consult 239
XXXIII. Varbarriere in the Sick-room 246
XXXIV. Guy Deverell arrives 253
XXXV. I am Thine and Thou art Mine, Body and Soul, for
ever 261
XXXVI. In the Chaise 269
XXXVII. Old Lady Alice talks with Guy 278
XXXVIII. Something more of Lady Jane Lennox 285
XXXIX. The Last 291
GUY DEVERELL.
CHAPTER I.
Lady Alice and Varbarriere tête-à-tête in the Library.
"Well, he told you something, did not he?" persisted Lady Alice.
"In the sense of a distinct disclosure, nothing," said the Bishop,
looking demurely over his horizontal leg on the neatly-shorn grass. "He
did speak to me upon subjects--his wishes, and I have no doubt he
intended to have been much more explicit. In fact, he intimated as much;
but he was overtaken by death--unable to speak when I saw him next
morning."
"He spoke to you, I know, about pulling down or blowing up that green
chamber," said Lady Alice, whose recollections grew a little violent in
proportion to the Bishop's reserve and her own impatience.
"He did not suggest quite such strong measures, but he did regret that
it had ever been built, and made me promise to urge upon his son, as you
once before mentioned you were aware, so soon as he should come of age,
to shut it up."
"And you did urge him?"
"Certainly, Lady Alice," said the Bishop, with dignity. "I viewed it in
the light of a duty, and a very sacred one, to do so."
"He told you the reason, then?" inquired Lady Alice.
"He gave me no reason on earth for his wish; perhaps, had he been spared
for another day, he would have done so; but he expressed himself
strongly indeed, with a kind of horror, and spoke of the Italian who
built, and his father who ordered it, in terms of strong disapprobation,
and wished frequently it had never been erected. Perhaps you would like
to take a little turn. How very pretty the flowers still are!"
"Very. No, thank you, I'll sit a little. And there was something more. I
know perfectly there was, my lord; what was it, pray?" answered the old
lady.
"It was merely something that I took charge of," said the Bishop,
cautiously.
"You need not be so reserved with me, my lord; I'm not, as you very well
know, a talking old woman, by any means. I know something of the matter
already, and have never talked about it; and as the late Lady Marlowe
was my poor daughter by marriage, you may talk to me, I should hope, a
little more freely than to a total stranger."
The Bishop, I fancy, thought there was something in this appeal, and
was, perhaps, amused at the persistency of women, for he smiled sadly
for a second or two on his gaiter, and he said, looking before him with
his head a little on one side--
"You give me credit, my dear Lady Alice, for a great deal more reserve
than I have, at least on this occasion, exercised. I have very little to
disclose, and I am not forbidden by any promise, implied or direct, to
tell you the very little I know."
He paused.
"Well, my lord, _pray_ go on," insisted Lady Alice.
"Yes, on the whole," said the Bishop, thoughtfully, "I prefer telling
you. In the room in which he died, in this house, there is, or was, a
sort of lock-up place."
"That was the room in which Jekyl now sleeps," interrupted Lady Alice.
"I am not aware."
"The room at the extreme back of the house. You go through a long
passage on the same level as the hall, and then, at the head of the far
back-stair, into a small room on your left, and through that into the
bed-room, I mean. It was there, I know, his coffin lay, for I saw him in
it."
"As well as I recollect, that must have been the room. I know it lay as
you describe. He gave me some keys that were placed with his purse under
his pillow, and directed me to open the press, and take out a box,
resembling a small oak plate-chest, which I did, and, by his direction,
having unlocked it, I took out a very little trunk-shaped box, covered
with stamped red leather, and he took it from me, and the keys, and that
time said no more."
"Well?"
"In the evening, when I returned, he said he had been thinking about
it, and wished to place it and the key in my care, as his boy was not of
age, and it contained something, the value of which, as I understood,
might be overlooked, and the box mislaid. His direction to me was to
give it to his son, the present Sir Jekyl, on his coming of age, and to
tell him from him that he was to do what was right with it. I know those
were his words, for he was exhausted, and not speaking very distinctly;
and I repeated them carefully after him, and as he said, 'correctly;'
after a short time he added, 'I think I shall tell you more about it
to-morrow;' but, as I told you, he was unable to speak next morning."
"And what did that red box contain?" asked Lady Alice.
"I can't tell. I never unlocked it. I tied it round with a tape and
sealed it, and so it remained."
"Then, Jekyl got it when he came of age?"
"I had him, about that time, at my house. He examined the box, and, when
he had satisfied himself as to its contents, he secured it again with
his own seal, and requested me to keep it for him for some short time
longer."
"Have you got it still in your possession?"
"No. I thought it best to insist at last on his taking it into his own
keeping. I've brought it with me here--and I gave it to him on the day
of my arrival."
"Very heavy, was it?"
"On the contrary, very light."
"H'm! Thank you, my lord; it is very good of you to converse so long
with an old woman such as I."
"On the contrary, Lady Alice, I am much obliged to you. The fact is, I
believe it is better to have mentioned these circumstances. It may,
perhaps, prove important that some member of the family should know
exactly what took place between me and the late Sir Harry Marlowe during
his last illness. You now know everything. I have reminded him, as I
thought it right, of the earnest injunction of his father, first with
respect to that room, the green chamber; and he tells me that he means
to comply with it when his party shall have broken up. And about the
other matter, the small box, I mentioned that he should do what is right
with it. He asked me if I had seen what the box contained; and on my
saying no, he added that he could not tell what his father meant by
telling him to do what was right with it--in fact, that he could do
nothing with it."
"Quite an Italian evening!" exclaimed the Bishop, after a pause, rising,
and offering his arm to Lady Alice.
And so their conference ended.
Next day, contrary to her secluded custom, and for the first time, Lady
Alice glided feebly into the new library of Marlowe, of which all the
guests were free.
Quite empty, except of that silent company in Russia leather and gold,
in vellum, and other fine suits; all so unobtrusive and quiet; all so
obsequiously at her service; all ready to speak their best, their
brightest, and wisest thoughts, or to be silent and neglected, and yet
never affronted; always alert to serve and speak, or lie quiet.
Quite deserted! No, not quite. There, more than half hidden by that
projection and carved oak pilaster, sate Monsieur Varbarriere, in an
easy-chair and a pair of gold spectacles, reading easily his vellum
quarto.
"Pretty room!" exclaimed Lady Alice in soliloquy, so soon as she had
detected the corpulent and grave student.
Monsieur Varbarriere laid down his book with a look of weariness, and
seeing Lady Alice, smiled benignly, and rose and bowed, and his sonorous
bass tones greeted her courteously from the nook in which he stood
framed in oak, like a portrait of a rich and mysterious burgomaster.
"What a pretty room!" repeated the old lady; "I believe we are
_tête-à-tête_."
"Quite so; I have been totally alone; a most agreeable surprise, Lady
Alice. Books are very good company; but even the best won't do always;
and I was beginning to weary of mine."
M. Varbarriere spoke French, so did Lady Alice; in fact, for that
gentleman's convenience, all conversations with him in that house were
conducted in the same courtly language.
Lady Alice looked round the room to satisfy herself that they were
really alone; and having made her commendatory criticisms on the
apartment once more,
"Very pretty," echoed Monsieur Varbarriere; "I admire the oak,
especially in a library, it is so solemn and contemplative. The Bishop
was here to-day, and admired the room very much. An agreeable and good
man the Bishop appears to be."
"Yes; a good man; an excellent man. I had a very interesting
conversation with him yesterday. I may as well tell you, Monsieur
Varbarriere--I know I may rely upon you--I have not come to my time of
life without knowing pretty well, by a kind of instinct, whom I may
trust; and I well know how you sympathise with me about my lost son."
"Profoundly, madame;" and Monsieur Varbarriere, with his broad and brown
hand on his breast, bowed slowly and very deep.