I could not stay long with my unhappy cousin, but still I stayed long
enough to make me think it probable that Lord Castleton's carriage
would have left the inn: and when, as I passed the hall, I saw it
standing before the open door, I was seized with fear for Roland; his
emotions might have ended in some physical attack. Nor were those fears
without foundation. I found Fanny kneeling beside the old soldier in
the parlour where we had seen the two women, and bathing his temples,
while Lord Castleton was binding his arm; and the marquis's favourite
valet, who, amongst his other gifts, was something of a surgeon, was
wiping the blade of the penknife that had served instead of a lancet.
Lord Castleton nodded to me, "Don't be uneasy--a little fainting
fit--we have bled him. He is safe now--see, he is recovering."
Roland's eyes, as they opened, turned to me with an anxious, inquiring
look. I smiled upon him as I kissed his forehead, and could, with a
safe conscience, whisper words which neither father nor Christian could
refuse to receive as comfort.
In a few minutes more we had left the house. As Lord Castleton's
carriage only held two, the marquis, having assisted Miss Trevanion and
Roland to enter, quietly mounted the seat behind, and made a sign to
me to come by his side, for there was room for both. (His servant had
taken one of the horses that had brought thither Roland and myself, and
already gone on before.) No conversation took place between us then.
Lord Castleton seemed profoundly affected, and I had no words at my
command.
When we reached the inn at which Lord Castleton had changed horses,
about six miles distant, the marquis insisted on Fanny's taking some
rest for a few hours, for indeed she was thoroughly worn out.
I attended my uncle to his room, but he only answered my assurances of
his son's repentance with a pressure of the hand, and then, gliding
from me, went into the furthest recess of the room, and there knelt
down. When he rose, he was passive and tractable as a child. He
suffered me to assist him to undress; and when he had lain down on
the bed, he turned his face quietly from the light, and, after a few
heavy sighs, sleep seemed mercifully to steal upon him. I listened to
his breathing till it grew low and regular, and then descended to the
sitting-room in which I had left Lord Castleton, for he had asked me in
a whisper to seek him there.
I found the marquis seated by the fire, in a thoughtful and dejected
attitude.
"I am glad you are come," said he, making room for me on the hearth,
"for I assure you I have not felt so mournful for many years; we have
much to explain to each other. Will you begin? they say the sound of
the bell dissipates the thunder-cloud. And there is nothing like the
voice of a frank, honest nature to dispel all the clouds that come upon
us when we think of our own faults and the villany of others. But, I
beg you a thousand pardons--that young man, your relation!--your brave
uncle's son! Is it possible!"
My explanations to Lord Castleton were necessarily brief and imperfect.
The separation between Roland and his son, my ignorance of its cause,
my belief in the death of the latter, my chance acquaintance with the
supposed Vivian; the interest I took in him; the relief it was to the
fears for his fate with which he inspired me, to think he had returned
to the home I ascribed to him; and the circumstances which had induced
my suspicions, justified by the result--all this was soon hurried over.
"But, I beg your pardon," said the marquis, interrupting me, "did you,
in your friendship for one so unlike you, even by your own partial
account, never suspect that you had stumbled upon your lost cousin?"
"Such an idea never could have crossed me."
And here I must observe, that though the reader, at the first
introduction of Vivian, would divine the secret,--the penetration of
a reader is wholly different from that of the actor in events. That
I had chanced on one of those curious coincidences in the romance of
real life, which a reader looks out for and expects in following the
course of narrative, was a supposition forbidden to me by a variety
of causes. There was not the least family resemblance between Vivian
and any of his relations; and, somehow or other, in Roland's son I
had pictured to myself a form and a character wholly different from
Vivian's. To me it would have seemed impossible that my cousin could
have been so little curious to hear any of our joint family affairs;
been so unheedful, or even weary, if I spoke of Roland--never, by a
word or tone, have betrayed a sympathy with his kindred. And my other
conjecture was so probable!--son of the Colonel Vivian whose name he
bore. And that letter, with the postmark of 'Godalming!' and my belief,
too, in my cousin's death; even now I am not surprised that the idea
never occurred to me.
I paused from enumerating these excuses for my dulness, angry with
myself, for I noticed that Lord Castleton's fair brow darkened;--and
he exclaimed, "What deceit he must have gone through before he could
become such a master in the art!"
"That is true, and I cannot deny it," said I. "But his punishment now
is awful; let us hope that repentance may follow the chastisement.
And, though certainly it must have been his own fault that drove him
from his father's home and guidance, yet, so driven, let us make some
allowance for the influence of evil companionship on one so young--for
the suspicions that the knowledge of evil produces, and turns into a
kind of false knowledge of the world. And in this last and worst of all
his actions"--
"Ah, how justify that!"
"Justify it!--good heavens! justify it!--no. I only say this, strange
as it may seem, that I believe his affection for Miss Trevanion was for
herself: so he says, from the depth of an anguish in which the most
insincere of men would cease to feign. But no more of this,--she is
saved, thank Heaven!"
"And you believe," said Lord Castleton musingly, "that he spoke the
truth, when he thought that I--." The marquis stopped, coloured
slightly, and then went on. "But no; Lady Ellinor and Trevanion,
whatever might have been in their thoughts, would never have so forgot
their dignity as to take him, a youth--almost a stranger--nay, take any
one into their confidence on such a subject."
"It was but by broken gasps, incoherent, disconnected words, that
Vivian,--I mean my cousin,--gave me any explanation of this. But Lady
N----, at whose house he was staying, appears to have entertained such
a notion, or at least led my cousin to think so."
"Ah! that is possible," said Lord Castleton, with a look of relief.
"Lady N---- and I were boy and girl together; we correspond; she has
written to me suggesting that----. Ah! I see,--an indiscreet woman.
Hum! this comes of lady correspondents!"
Lord Castleton had recourse to the Beaudesert mixture; and then, as if
eager to change the subject, began his own explanation. On receiving my
letter, he saw even more cause to suspect a snare than I had done, for
he had that morning received a letter from Trevanion, not mentioning a
word about his illness; and on turning to the newspaper, and seeing a
paragraph headed, "Sudden and alarming illness of Mr Trevanion," the
marquis had suspected some party manoeuvre or unfeeling hoax, since the
mail that had brought the letter would have travelled as quickly as
any messenger who had given the information to the newspaper. He had,
however, immediately sent down to the office of the journal to inquire
on what authority the paragraph had been inserted, while he despatched
another messenger to St James's Square. The reply from the office
was, that the message had been brought by a servant in Mr Trevanion's
livery, but was not admitted as news until it had been ascertained by
inquiries at the minister's house that Lady Ellinor had received the
same intelligence, and actually left town in consequence.
"I was extremely sorry for poor Lady Ellinor's uneasiness," said Lord
Castleton, "and extremely puzzled, but I still thought there could be
no real ground for alarm when your letter reached me. And when you
there stated your conviction that Mr Gower was mixed up in this fable,
and that it concealed some snare upon Fanny, I saw the thing at a
glance. The road to Lord N----'s, till within the last stage or two,
would be the road to Scotland. And a hardy and unscrupulous adventurer,
with the assistance of Miss Trevanion's servants, might thus entrap
her to Scotland itself, and there work on her fears; or, if he had
hope in her affections, win her consent to a Scotch marriage. You may
be sure, therefore, that I was on the road as soon as possible. But
as your messenger came all the way from the city, and not so quick
perhaps as he might have come; and then as there was the carriage to
see to, and the horses to send for, I found myself more than an hour
and a half behind you. Fortunately, however, I made good ground, and
should probably have overtaken you half-way, but that, on passing
between a ditch and waggon, the carriage was upset, and that somewhat
delayed me. On arriving at the town where the road branched off to
Lord N----'s, I was rejoiced to learn you had taken what I was sure
would prove the right direction, and finally I gained the clue to
that villanous inn by the report of the postboys who had taken Miss
Trevanion's carriage there, and met you on the road. On reaching the
inn, I found two fellows conferring outside the door. They sprang in
as we drove up, but not before my servant Summers--a quick fellow,
you know, who has travelled with me from Norway to Nubia--had quitted
his seat, and got into the house, into which I followed him with a
step, you dog, as active as your own! Egad! I was twenty-one then! Two
fellows had already knocked down poor Summers, and showed plenty of
fight. Do you know," said the marquis, interrupting himself with an air
of seriocomic humiliation--"do you know that I actually--no, you never
will believe it--mind 'tis a secret--actually broke my cane over one
fellow's shoulders?--look!" (and the marquis held up the fragment of
the lamented weapon.) "And I half suspect, but I can't say positively,
that I had even the necessity to demean myself by a blow with the naked
hand--clenched too!--quite Eton again--upon my honour it was. Ha, ha!"
And the marquis, whose magnificent proportions, in the full vigour of
man's strongest, if not his most combative, age, would have made him a
formidable antagonist, even to a couple of prize-fighters, supposing
he had retained a little of Eton skill in such encounters--laughed
with the glee of a schoolboy, whether at the thought of his prowess,
or his sense of the contrast between so rude a recourse to primitive
warfare, and his own indolent habits, and almost feminine good temper.
Composing himself, however, with the quick recollection how little I
could share his hilarity, he resumed gravely, "It took us some time--I
don't say to defeat our foes, but to bind them, which I thought a
necessary precaution;--one fellow, Trevanion's servant, all the while
stunning me with quotations from Shakspeare. I then gently laid hold
of a gown, the bearer of which had been long trying to scratch me;
but being luckily a small woman, had not succeeded in reaching to
my eyes. But the gown escaped, and fluttered off to the kitchen. I
followed, and there I found Miss Trevanion's Jezebel of a maid. She
was terribly frightened, and affected to be extremely penitent. I own
to you that I don't care what a man says in the way of slander, but
a woman's tongue against another woman--especially if that tongue be
in the mouth of a lady's lady--I think it always worth silencing; I
therefore consented to pardon this woman on condition she would find
her way here before morning. No scandal shall come from her. Thus you
see some minutes elapsed before I joined you; but I minded that the
less, as I heard you and the Captain were already in the room with Miss
Trevanion; and not, alas! dreaming of your connexion with the culprit,
I was wondering what could have delayed you so long,--afraid, I own
it, to find that Miss Trevanion's heart might have been seduced by
that--hem--hem!--handsome--young--hem--hem!--There's no fear of that?"
added Lord Castleton, anxiously, as he bent his bright eyes upon mine.
I felt myself colour as I answered firmly, "It is just to Miss
Trevanion to add that the unhappy man owned, in her presence and
in mine, that he had never had the slightest encouragement for his
attempt--never one cause to believe that she approved the affection,
which I try to think blinded and maddened himself."
"I believe you; for I think"--Lord Castleton paused uneasily, again
looked at me, rose, and walked about the room with evident agitation;
then, as if he had come to some resolution, he returned to the hearth
and stood facing me.
"My dear young friend," said he, with his irresistible kindly
frankness, "this is an occasion that excuses all things between us,
even my impertinence. Your conduct from first to last has been such,
that I wish, from the bottom of my heart, that I had a daughter to
offer you, and that you felt for her as I believe you feel for Miss
Trevanion. These are not mere words; do not look down as if ashamed.
All the marquisates in the world would never give me the pride I should
feel, if I could see in my life one steady self-sacrifice to duty and
honour, equal to that which I have witnessed in you."
"Oh, my lord! my lord!"
"Hear me out. That you love Fanny Trevanion, I know; that she may have
innocently, timidly, half unconsciously, returned that affection, I
think probable. But--"
"I know what you would say; spare me--I know it all."
"No! it is a thing impossible; and, if Lady Ellinor could consent,
there would be such a life-long regret on her part, such a weight of
obligation on yours, that--no, I repeat, it is impossible! But let us
both think of this poor girl. I know her better than you can--have
known her from a child; know all her virtues--they are charming; all
her faults--they expose her to danger. These parents of hers--with
their genius, and ambition--may do very well to rule England, and
influence the world; but to guide the fate of that child--no!" Lord
Castleton stopped, for he was affected. I felt my old jealousy return,
but it was no longer bitter.
"I say nothing," continued the marquis, "of this position, in which,
without fault of hers, Miss Trevanion is placed: Lady Ellinor's
knowledge of the world, and woman's wit, will see how all that can be
best put right. Still it is awkward, and demands much consideration.
But, putting this aside altogether, if you do firmly believe that Miss
Trevanion is lost to you, can you bear to think that she is to be
flung as a mere cipher into the account of the worldly greatness of
an aspiring politician--married to some minister, too busy to watch
over her; or some duke, who looks to pay off his mortgages with her
fortune--minister or duke only regarded as a prop to Trevanion's power
against a counter cabal, or as giving his section a preponderance in
the Cabinet? Be assured such is her most likely destiny, or rather the
beginning of a destiny yet more mournful. Now, I tell you this, that he
who marries Fanny Trevanion should have little other object, for the
first few years of marriage, than to correct her failings and develop
her virtues. Believe one who, alas! has too dearly bought his knowledge
of women--hers is a character to be formed. Well, then, if this prize
be lost to you, would it be an irreparable grief to your generous
affection to think that it has fallen to the lot of one who at least
knows his responsibilities, and who will redeem his own life, hitherto
wasted, by the steadfast endeavour to fulfil them? Can you take this
hand still, and press it, even though it be a rival's?"
"My lord! This from you to me, is an honour that--"
"You will not take my hand? Then believe me, it is not I that will give
that grief to your heart."
Touched, penetrated, melted by this generosity in a man of such lofty
claims, to one of my age and fortunes, I pressed that noble hand,
half raising it to my lips--an action of respect that would have
misbecome neither; but he gently withdrew the hand, in the instinct of
his natural modesty. I had then no heart to speak further on such a
subject, but, faltering out that I would go and see my uncle, I took up
the light, and ascended the stairs. I crept noiselessly into Roland's
room, and shading the light, saw that, though he slept, his face was
very troubled. And then I thought, "What are my young griefs to his?"
and--sitting beside the bed, communed with my own heart and was still!