Juliet was aroused from this species of patient despondency by the groom
of Mrs Ireton, who broke in upon her with orders to enquire, whether it
were her intention to detain his lady at the castle all night? adding,
that all the rest of the party had been gone some time.
Juliet followed him to the hall, where she was greeted, as usual, with
sharp reproaches, conveyed through ironical compliments.
Upon reaching the portico, she perceived, hastily returned, and
dismounting his horse, Lord Melbury.
He held back, with an air of irresolution, till Mrs Ireton, to whom he
distantly bowed, was seated; and then, suddenly springing forward,
offered his hand to her depressed and neglected dependent.
Blushingly, yet gratefully she accepted his assistance; and having
placed her in the coach, and made a slight compliment to Mrs Ireton, the
carriage drove off; and, the final amazement over, the envenomed taunts
of that lady were indulged in a full scope of unrestrained malignity
during the whole little journey.
Juliet scarcely heard them; new perplexity, though mingled with hope and
pleasure, affected and occupied her. Lord Melbury, in aiding her into
the carriage, had said, 'I am afraid you will lose your shawl;' and,
snatching at it, as if to present its falling, he enveloped a small
packet in the folds which he put into her hands, of which, in her first
confusion, she was scarcely conscious; though she felt it the instant
that he disappeared.
Was it money? Nothing, in her helpless state, could be more welcome; yet
to what construction, even from himself, might not its acceptance be
liable? Nevertheless, with so suspicious and illjudging a witness by her
side, to call him back, might seem accusing him of intentions of which
she sincerely believed him guiltless.
The moment that she could disengage herself from her troublesome
charges, she stole to her chamber, where she read the following words,
written with a pencil upon the cover of a letter.
'How shall I ever endure myself again, should Miss Ellis withdraw
her kind promise of communication, in resentment of an acquiescence
in quitting her, for which already I begin almost to disdain
myself? Yet my consent was granted to two of the purest of her
admirers and well wishers. I could not have been biassed an instant
by those who know not how to appreciate her. Hold, therefore,
amiable Miss Ellis, your condescending promise sacred, though I
make a momentary cession of my claim upon it, to the pleadings of
those who are every way better entitled to judge than I am, of what
will best demonstrate the high and true respect felt for Miss
Ellis, by
'Her most obedient,
'humble servant,
'MELBURY.
'P.S. Aurora had no time to entreat for your permission to lodge
the enclosed trifle in your hands. She is ashamed of its
insignificance; but she has a plan, which I shall unfold when I
have next the honour of seeing you, to solicit, as a mark of your
confidence, becoming, through me, your banker till your affairs are
arranged.
'Pardon this paper. I write on horseback, to catch you flying.'
Soft were the tears of Juliet, and radiant the eyes whence they flowed,
as she perused these words. Nor could she hesitate in accepting the
offering, though the little gold-purse, which contained it, was marked
with the cypher of Lord Melbury. It was presented in the name of his
sister; a sister whom he revered as truly as he loved; such a name,
therefore, sanctioned both the loan and the kindness. And the
intimation, given by the young peer himself, of the equal influence over
his mind possessed by Lady Barbara Frankland, proclaimed and proved the
purity of his regard, and the innocence of his intentions.
An idea now struck her, that bounded to her heart with rapture. Might
not the sum of which she permitted herself to take the disposal, prove
the means of re-union with Gabriella? A very small part of it would
suffice for the journey; and the rest might enable them, when once
together, to make some arrangement for being parted no more.
A plan so soothing could not, even for a moment, present itself to her
imagination, unaccompanied by some effort to put it into execution, and
she instantly wrote a few lines to her beloved friend; stating the
present possibility of their junction, and demanding her opinion, her
consent, and her directions, for the immediate accomplishment of so
delicious a scheme.
Cheered by a hope so dear to her wishes, so promising to her happiness,
Juliet, now, was perfectly contented to continue at Brighthelmstone,
till she should receive an answer to her proposal.
But, before its arrival was yet possible, she was called to a messenger,
who would deliver his commission only to herself.
She descended, not without perturbation, into the hall; where a
countryman told her, that he had been ordered to beg that she would go,
at the usual time, the next morning, to the usual place, to meet her old
friend.
He was then walking off; but Juliet stopt him, to demand whence he came,
and who sent him.
A lady, he answered, who spoke broken English, and who had named five of
the clock in the morning.
'Oh yes! Oh yes!' cried Juliet: 'I will not fail!' whilst a soft murmur
finished with 'Tis herself!--'tis my Gabriella!
What brought her back to Brighthelmstone, now occupied all the thoughts
of her friend. Was it a design to fix her abode where her maternal
enthusiasm might daily be cherished by visiting the grave of her child?
Or, was it for the single indulgence of bathing that melancholy spot
once more with her tears?
It was already night, or Juliet would have sought to anticipate the
meeting, by some enquiry at their former lodgings: the morning, however,
soon arrived, and, nearly with its dawn, she arose, and, by a previous
arrangement made with the gardener, quitted the house, to hasten to the
church-yard upon the hill.
In her way thither, she was seized, from time to time, with something
like an apprehension that she was pursued; for, though no one came in
sight, the stillness of the early morning enabled her to hear,
distinctly, a footstep that now seemed to follow her own, now to stop
till she had proceeded some yards.
It might merely be some workman;--yet would not a workman overtake her,
and pass on? It was more probably some traveller. Nevertheless, she
would not ascend the hill without making some examination; and, casting
a hasty glance behind her, she perceived a tall man, muffled up, whose
air denoted him to be a gentleman; but who instantly hung back.
A thousand anxious doubts were now awakened. Was it possible that she
had been summoned upon any false pretence? Gabriella had not written;
and though that omission had, at first, appeared the natural result of
haste upon her arrival; joined to the difficulty of immediately
procuring writing implements, it left an opening to uncertainty upon
reflection, by no means satisfactory. That she should not personally
have presented herself at the house of Mrs Ireton, could excite no
surprize, for she well knew that Juliet had neither time nor a room at
her own command; and to re-visit the grave of her child had always been
the purpose of Gabriella.
With a slackened and irresolute step, she now went on, till, wistfully
looking towards the church-yard, she descried a female, with arms
uplifted, that seemed inviting her approach. Relieved and delighted, she
then quickened her pace; though, as she advanced, the form retreated,
till, gradually, it was wholly out of sight.
This affected and saddened her. The little grave was on the other side
of the church. It is there, then, only, she cried, there, where our
melancholy meeting took place, that my ever wretched Gabriella will
suffer me to rejoin her!
With an aching heart she proceeded, though no Gabriella came forward to
give her welcome; but when, upon crossing over to the other side of the
church, in full sight of the little grave, no Gabriella was there; and
not a human being was visible, she felt again impressed with a fear of
imposition, and was turning back to hurry home; when she observed, just
mounting the hill, the person by whose pursuit she had already been
startled.
Terrour now began to take possession of her mind. She had surely been
deluded, and she was evidently followed. She had neither time nor
composure for divining why; but she was instantly certain that she could
be no object for premeditated robbery; and the unprincipled Sir Lyell
Sycamore alone occurred to her, as capable of so cruel a stratagem to
enveigle her to a lonely spot. The height of the man was similar: his
face was carefully concealed; but, transient as had been her glance, it
was obvious to her that he was no labourer, nor countryman.
To descend the hill, would be to meet him: to go on yet further, when
not a cottage, perhaps, might be open, would almost seem to expect being
overtaken: yet to remain and await him, was out of all question. She
saw, therefore, no hope of security, but by endeavouring to regain the
street, through a circuitous path, by sudden rapidity of flight.
But, upon gliding, with this design, to the other side of the church,
she was struck with amazement to see that the church-door was ajar; and
to perceive, at the same instant, a passing shadow, reflected through a
window, of some one within the building.
Was this accident? or had it any connection with the tall unknown who
followed her?
Filled with wonder and alarm, though a stranger to every species of
superstition, her feet staggered, and her presence of mind threatened to
play her false; when again a fleeting shadow, of she knew not whom nor
what, gleamed athwart a monument.
Summoning now her utmost force, though shaking with nameless
apprehensions, she crossed, with celerity, a gravestone, to gain what
appeared to be the quickest route for descending; when the sound of a
hasty step, immediately behind her, gave her the fearful intelligence
that escape was impossible.
Nevertheless, though nearly overcome with dread, she was pressing on;
but some one, rushing abruptly past her, and turning short round, stopt
her passage.
Horrour thrilled through her every vein, in the persuasion that she was
the destined victim of deliberate delusion, when the words, 'It is,
indeed, then, you!' uttered in an accent of astonishment, yet with
softness, made her hastily raise her eyes,--and raise them upon
Harleigh.
Bereft of prudence, in the suddenness of her joy; forgetting
self-command, and casting off all guard, all reserve, she rapturously
held out to him her willing hands, exclaiming, 'Oh, Mr Harleigh!--are
you, then, my destined protector?--my guardian angel?'
Speechless from transported surprize, Harleigh pressed to his lips and
to his heart each unresisting hand; while Juliet, whose eyes beamed
lustrous with buoyant felicity, was unconscious of the happiness that
she bestowed, from the absorption of the delight that she experienced.
'Precious, for ever precious moment!' cried Harleigh, when the power of
utterance returned; 'Here, on this spot, where first the tortures of the
most deadly suspense give way to the most exquisite hopes,--'
The countenance of Juliet now again underwent a change the most sudden;
its brilliancy was overclouded; its smiles vanished; its joy died away;
not, indeed, to return to its look of horrour and affright, but to
convey an expression of the deepest shame and regret; and, with cheeks
tingling with burning blushes, she strove to regain her hands; to
recover her composure; and to account to him, by relating what had been
her dread, and her mistake, for her flattering reception.
But she strove in vain: her efforts to disengage herself had no more
that frozen severity which Harleigh had not dared resist; and though her
earnestness and distress shewed their sincerity, her varying blushes,
her inability to find words, and her uncontroulable emotion,
demonstrated, to his quick perception, that to govern her own
conflicting feelings, at this critical moment, was as difficult as to
resume over his accustomed dominion.
'Here on this spot,' he continued, 'this blessed, sacred, hallowed spot!
clear, and eternally dismiss, every torturing doubt by which I have so
long been martyrized! Here let all baneful mystery, all heart-wounding
distrust, be for ever exiled; and here--'
A faint, but earnest, 'Oh no! no! no!' now quivered from the lips of
Juliet; but Harleigh would not be silenced.
'And here, where you have condescended to call me your protector,--your
destined protector!--a title which gives me claims that never while I
live shall be relinquished!--claims which not even yourself, now, can
have power to recall--'
'Hear me! hear me!--' interrupted, but vainly, the pleading Juliet;
Harleigh, uncontrouled, went on.
'Initiate me, without delay, in the duties of my office. Against whom,
and against what may I be your protector? You have called me, too, your
guardian-angel; Oh suffer me to call you mine! Consent to that sweet
reciprocation, which blends felicity with every care of life! which
animates our virtues by our happiness! which secures the performance of
every duty, by making every duty an enjoyment!'
A frequent 'Alas! alas!' was all that Juliet could gain time to utter,
from the rapid energy with which Harleigh overpowered all attempt at
remonstrance.
'Why, why,' he then cried, with redoubled vivacity; 'Why not exile now,
and repudiate for ever, that terrible rigour of reserve that has so long
been at war with your humanity?--Listen to your softer self! It will
plead, it will surely plead for gentler measures!'
'Oh no, no, no!' reiterated the agitated Juliet, with a vehemence that
would have startled, if not discouraged him, had not another incautious
'Alas! alas!' stole its way into the midst of her tremulous negatives;
and revealed that her heart, her wishes, her feelings, bore no part in
the refusals which her tongue pronounced.
This was not a circumstance to escape Harleigh, who, indescribably
touched, fervently exclaimed, 'And what, now, shall sunder us? Pardon my
presumption if I say us! What is the power,--the earthly power,--while
yet I live, and breathe, and feel, that can now compel me to give up the
rights with which, from this decisive moment, I hold myself invested?
No! our destinies are indissolubly united!--All procrastination,--all
concealment must be over! They would now be literally distracting. Why,
then, that start?--Why that look?--Can you regret having shewn a little
feeling?--a trait of sensibility?--O put a period to this unequalled,
unexampled mystery! I am yours! faithfully, honourably yours! Yours to
the end of my mortal existence; yours, by my most sacred hopes, far, far
longer!--You weep?--not from grief, I trust,--I hope,--not from grief
flow those touching tears? Open to me your situation,--your heart! Here,
on this sacred, and henceforth happiest spot, where first you have
accorded me a ray of hope, let our mutual vows be plighted to all
eternity!'
Juliet, whose whole soul seemed dissolved in poignant yet tender
distress, cast up to heaven, as if imploring for aid, her irresistibly
streaming eyes; when, caught by some shadowy motion to turn them towards
the church, she fancied that she beheld again the female, whose
appearance and vanishing had been forgotten from the excess of her own
emotions.
Startled, she looked more earnestly, and then clearly perceived, though
half hidden behind a monument, a form in white; whose dress appeared to
be made in the shape, and of the materials, used for our mortal
covering, a shroud. A veil of the same stuff fell over the face of the
figure, of which the hands hung down strait at each lank side.
Struck with awe and consternation, Juliet involuntarily ceased her
struggles for freedom; and Harleigh, who saw her strangely moved,
pursuing the direction of her eyes, discerned the object by which they
had been caught; who now, slowly raising her right hand, waved to them
to follow; while, with her left, she pointed to the church, and,
uttering a wild shriek, flitted out of sight.
Could it be Elinor? Each felt at the same instant the same terrible
apprehension. Harleigh sprang after her; Juliet, almost petrified with
affright, was immovable.
The fugitive entered the church, and darted towards the altar; where she
threw her left hand over a tablet of white stone, cut in the shape of a
coffin, with the action of embracing it; yet in a position to leave
evident the following inscription:
'This Stone
Is destined by herself to be the last kind covering
of all that remains of
ELINOR JODDREL:
Who, sick of Life, of Love, and of Despair,
Dies to moulder, and be forgotten.'
Casting off her veil when she perceived Harleigh, 'Here! Harleigh,
here!' she cried, in a tone authoritative, though tremulous, ''tis here
you must reciprocate your vows! Here is the spot! Here stands the altar
for the happy;--here, the tomb for the hopeless!'
Suspicious of some sinister purpose, Harleigh was at her side with the
swiftness of lightening; but not till her fingers were upon the trigger
of a pistol, which she had pointed to her temple; though in time, by
attaining her arm, and forcibly giving it a new direction, to make her
fire the deadly weapon in the air.
Her own design, nevertheless, seconded by the loud din of a pistol, so
close to her ear, and let off by her own hand, operated upon her
deranged imagination with a belief that her purpose was fulfilled; and
she sunk upon the ground, uttering, with a deep groan, 'Oh Harleigh!
bless the dying Elinor,--and be happy!--'
Harleigh, terrified and shocked, though thankfully perceiving her
mistake, dropped down at her side, and supported her head; while
congratulating eyes stole a glance at Juliet; who, at the sound of the
pistol, had hastened, aghast, to the spot; but who now, dreading to be
seen, retreated.
'Oh Elinor!' he then cried, 'what direful infatuation of wrong is
this!--What have you done with your nobler, better self?--How have you
thus warped your reason and your religion alike, to an equal and
terrible defiance of here and hereafter?'
Recovering, at these interrogatories, to conscious failure, and
conscious existence, she hastily arose, indignantly spurned at the
tablet, looked around for Juliet with every mark of irritation, and,
casting a glance of suffering, yet investigating shame at Harleigh,
''Tis again, then,' she cried, 'abortive!--and, a third time, I am food,
for fools,--when I meant to be food only for worms!'
She then peremptorily demanded Juliet; who, affrighted, was absconding,
till shrieks rather than calls forced her forward.
With an exaltation so violent that it seemed incipient frenzy, Elinor
hailed her. 'Approach, Ellis, approach!' she cried. 'Oh chosen of the
chosen! Oh born to shew, and prove the perfectibility of earthly
happiness, and the falsehood and sophistry of the ignorance and
superstition that deny it! Approach! and let me sanction your nuptial
contract! I here solemnly give you back your promise. I renounce all tie
over your actions, your engagements, your choice. Approach, then, that I
may join your hands, while I quaff my last draught of tender poison from
the grateful eyes of Harleigh, whose happiness,--my own donation!--will
cast a glory upon my exit!'
Juliet stood motionless, pale, almost livid, and appearing nearly as
unable to think as to speak. But the feelings of Harleigh were as much
too actively alive, as hers seemed morbid. Agitation beat in every
pulse, flowed in every vein, throbbed even visibly in his heart, which
bounded with tumultuous triumph, that Juliet, now, was liberated from
all adverse engagements: and though he sought, and meant, to turn his
eyes, with tender pity, upon Elinor, they stole involuntarily,
impulsively, glances of exstatic felicity at the mute and appalled
Juliet.
The watchful Elinor discerned the distraction, which he imagined to be
as impenetrable as it was irresistible. Shame, mingled with despondence,
superseded her exaltation; and disdainfully, and even wrathfully, she
disengaged herself from his hold; but, suspicious of some new violence,
he hovered over her with extended arms; and presently caught a glimpse
of a second pistol, placed behind the tablet, and, as nearly as
possible, out of sight. Her intention could not be doubted; but,
forcibly anticipating her movement, he seized the destined instrument of
death, and, flying to the porch, fired it also into the air.
Elinor now was confounded; she reddened with confusion, trembled with
ire, and seemed nearly fainting with excess of emotion; but, after
holding her hands a minute or two crossed over her face, she forced a
smile, and said, 'Harleigh, our tragi-comedy has a long last act! But
you can never, now, believe me dead, till you see me buried. That, next,
must follow!' And abruptly she was rushing out of the church, when she
was encountered, in the porch, by her foreign servant, accompanied by
the whole house of Mrs Maple.
Juliet, satisified that this victim to her own passions and delusions,
would now fall into proper hands, eagerly glided past them all; and,
finding the streets no longer empty, fled back to the mansion of Mrs
Ireton.