The first paper Mrs Brandon drew from the envelope was one in a bold
lady's-hand, evidently written hastily, and contained but the following
words:
"Dear Max,--I will take him into the waiting-room, where there is a
good view of the platform. I can keep him there, _I think_. But you
must be quick. Recollect, a momentary glance will do. Run by, if you
can, at the very last minute. But pray, pray be careful. _It is
victory or ruin; for he would never forgive either_. Laura.
"P.S. _Burn this_, and every note I send."
Mrs Brandon's face wore a troubled puzzled expression as she glanced at
Ella, whose lips moved.
"I found that in my reticule since I have lain here," she whispered.
"Read on, and you will understand."
Mrs Brandon took out from the envelope another paper, and read, in a
round legal hand:
"Cliff-terrace, Penzance,--18--
"Sir,--I am requested by my patient, Mr Charles Vining, to enclose
the note here contained, one which, at his wish, I have addressed as
you see. He tells me that he is doubtful of its reaching the lady if
sent by post, and desires me to implore you to be its bearer,
delivering it yourself, and adding your persuasions if she should
decline compliance. He would have written more, but the note enclosed
was penned in my brief absence, and I sternly forbade farther
exertion. By way of explanation, I may tell you that my patient came
in here, with two more gentlemen, in a yacht, driven to the bay by
stress of weather. The next night there was a fearful wreck close in
shore, and Mr Vining and one of his friends volunteered, and were out
in the lifeboat. I regret to say that their gallant attempt only
added to the long list of those gone to their account. Two of the
lifeboat's crew were drowned, while your friend was cast upon the
rocks fearfully injured.
"Let me assure you that he has had the best advice the town affords.--
I am, sir, your obedient servant,
"Henry Penellyn, M.R.C.S.
"To Maximilian Bray, Esq.
"P.S. Mr Vining bids me tell you that the above is his last request.
"_I do not read to him the following_: Not a moment is to be lost, for
internal haemorrhage has set in."
Mrs Brandon's breath came thick and fast, as dashing down this letter,
she took up the next.
"My only love,--_Pray_ come to me. I am half-killed.--Ever yours,
"Charles Vining."
"But that is--stop a minute," exclaimed Mrs Brandon, who was terribly
agitated, and she rang the bell. "Bring my desk quickly," she said to
the maid who answered. "Yes," she exclaimed, as she unlocked the desk
and drew out a letter, and compared it carefully. "It is the same hand.
It is his writing!"
"Yes," whispered Ella sadly.
"What does it all mean, then?" exclaimed Mrs Brandon confusedly.
"I cannot tell--I cannot understand," whispered Ella. "I was deceived
and led away, and he must have seen me; but he would not have betrayed
me thus."
"But how to explain it all!" cried Mrs Brandon excitedly. "He is to be
married to Laura Bray--"
"Ah, me! What have I done, what have I said?" cried Mrs Brandon. "My
poor child, I must have been mad to have let my foolish lips utter those
words!" And she gently raised the fainting girl in her arms; for at
those bitter words, Ella had uttered that faint sigh, her face had been
contracted as by a violent spasm, and her eyes had closed.
"It is nothing," sighed Ella, reviving. "If he is only happy!"
"Happy!" cried Mrs Brandon, her breast heaving with passion. "It is
some cruel conspiracy. But tell me--if you can bear to speak--tell me
all."
It was a long recital; for it was told in a faint whisper, and spread
over some time, Ella's strength seeming often to fail her. Twice over
Mrs Brandon would have arrested her, but she begged to be allowed to
proceed.
"It will make me happier," she whispered. And Mrs Brandon could only
bend her head.
Three o'clock had struck by the pendule, whose slow beat seemed to be
numbering off Ella's last minutes, when Mrs Brandon left her in the
charge of the nurse she had summoned, sleeping now calmly, and as if
relieved by confiding her sad little last month's history to another
breast.
It was late; but Mrs Brandon had another duty to perform, one which she
did, with her mind now confused, now seeming to see plainly the whole of
the plot. But there was that letter--those lines in Charley Vining's
hand. But for them, all would have been plain.
At times she was moved by a burning indignation; at others she weakly
wept; but before returning to Ella's bedside, she took a large sheet of
paper, secured to it the three missives she had brought from the
bedside, and then wrote under them:
"Charles Vining,--The victim of a cruel plot--Ella Bedford--was
enticed from the home I had found for her by Maximilian Bray, from
whom she escaped, to crawl, _dying_, to my house, where she now lies,
to breathe her last in peace. As an English gentleman, I ask you,
Have you had any hand in this? If not, explain how a letter should be
sent to her in your handwriting. I can see part; but the rest remains
for you to clear. Emily Brandon."
This letter Mrs Brandon carefully sealed, with its contents, and then
returned to watch by Ella's bedside.
Soon after eight that morning she dispatched the note by a trusty
messenger, to be delivered into no other hands than Charley Vining's--
little wotting the events to take place that day--and into Charley
Vining's hands that letter was placed, as we have seen.
Sir Philip Vining's coachman was the first to recover himself and to go
to his master's assistance, just as, half stunned and confused, Sir
Philip was struggling to his feet.
"Not much hurt, I think!" said Sir Philip. "But where is Mr Bray?"
"There he lies, Sir Philip," said the coachman.
And together they went to raise the unfortunate companion of their ride,
insensible now, and bleeding from a cut on the temple.
"Beg pardon, Sir Philip," said the coachman appealingly. "I've been
with you fifteen years now; I hope you won't turn me off for this job.
I was driving as carefully as I could."
"My good fellow, no; of course not. I was to blame. Thank Heaven there
are some men coming!--Bray, my dear friend, how is it with you?"
Mr Bray looked up on being addressed, and, with a little assistance,
rose to his feet; but he was weak and helpless, seating himself directly
after.
In spite of the serious aspect of affairs, a little examination proved
that, though cut about, and some of the harness injured, the horses were
very little the worse; while, with the exception of the loss of some
paint and a smashed panel, the carriage, on being placed in its normal
position, was found to be quite capable of continuing its journey.
Plenty of help had arrived, and the labourers had worked with a will;
but upon Mr Bray being assisted to his seat, he seemed so ill and
shaken, that Sir Philip gave orders for the carriage to make the best of
its way home.
"But you will come too?" said Mr Bray feebly.
"No," said Sir Philip, frowning angrily; "I shall go forward."
And then, without another word, he strode off in the direction of
Laneton.
Mr Bray was for following him; but the coachman shook his head.
"Master's as good and true-hearted a gentleman as ever breathed, sir.
Here's fifty--ah, with the way them horses are marked, a hundred and
fifty-pounds' worth of damage done in a moment. And does he do what
ninety masters out of a hundred would have done--tell me to leave
to-morrow? Not he, sir. He just claps me on the shoulder, and says it
was his own fault--which it really was, sir, though lots wouldn't have
owned to it. But no, sir; Sir Philip's orders was to take you home, and
disobeying his orders means throwing away a good place."
So, as Sir Philip disappeared down the lane, the carriage was once more
put in motion, and dragged heavily through the muddy rutty by-way back
towards Lexville.
It was a long and dreary ride, performed in a slow and spiritless way,
Mr Bray shrinking back in his seat as they reached and drove through
the town; for, in addition to bodily pain, there was the mental
suffering--the blow at his pride; for it seemed, though he could not
penetrate the mystery, that there was something radically wrong, and
that all prospect of the wedding taking place was at an end.
In spite of his shrinking back, he could not avoid seeing the
curiosity-moved faces at door and window; and, in his heart, he fancied
he could make out what was said respecting pride and its fall, for his
family was not very popular at Lexville; while the state of horses,
carriage, and coachman all tended to make people hurry out to gaze upon
this sequel to the broken-off wedding, the theme now of every gossip in
the place.
"It never rains but it pours," says the old saw; and so it seemed to be
here; for upon Mr Bray alighting at the Elms, stiff and bruised and
giddy, it was to find Laura--now that she was hidden from the public
gaze, where she had held up so bravely, even to taking her place calmly
in the waiting carriage--falling from one violent hysterical fit into
another, shrieking and raving against Max, and crying out that what had
befallen her was a judgment.
Mother, sister, friends, all listened in weeping amazement as they tried
to soothe and minister to her, but in vain; and it was not until the
coming of the family medical man, and a soothing draught had been
administered, that Laura sank back, silent and overcome.
The doctor was still busy, when Sir Philip Vining's carriage drove up
with a fresh patient, one who sadly needed his services; while, as Mr
Bray was lying bandaged, and at length somewhat more at ease, a servant
brought up a telegram.
"News, then, at last, from Charley Vining!" exclaimed Mrs Bray
excitedly, breaking the official envelope.
But Mrs Bray was wrong. The telegram contained news, startling news--
such as made the father forget his own sufferings, and rise again to
prepare for a journey; and upon its being inadvertently conveyed to
Laura some time after, she threw up her hands, shrieked aloud, and then
seemed to shrink, trembling within herself, as if expecting momentarily
that some great blow would fall crushingly upon her.
Volume 3, Chapter XXIV.