through the criminal indulgence of my resentful feelings towards him,
reduced to a state so deplorable, that, if his fond mother could behold
him, the sight would kill her."
Here Philip was interrupted by Lord Robert's trying to articulate
something; but so very faint was the attempt, that it was not till he
had knelt down by his side, and raised his head on his arm, that he
could catch his imperfect accents, or distinguish what he intended to
express. Alas! it was but one word--"_Water!_" and that repeated
incessantly, in tones of agony, which Philip, some years after that
melancholy period, declared that night and day he strove in vain to
forget: and at that moment, when he beheld the parched and blackening
lips from which those sounds proceeded, they pierced his heart with an
anguish no tongue can describe. Fortunately he had a lime in his pocket,
with the juice of which he moistened the sufferer's mouth. Some minutes
elapsed before this appeared to have the least effect; but at length his
Lordship became conscious of the relief, and swallowed with avidity the
cooling fluid; and, opening his languid eyes, he turned them on Philip
with an expression of gratitude which overpaid him for his exertions. It
was evident, however, that he took him for some other person; for,
extending his arms towards him, he called him "Augustus! his beloved
brother!" and besought him in the most pathetic manner, "to remove him
from that horrid place, and to let him have a better bed than the hard
one on which he lay, which he assured him had sadly bruised his body."
"Alas! poor sufferer!" said Philip, "if you knew to whom you were
addressing these tender names and moving petitions for assistance, your
proud spirit would make you reject my aid with scorn, and you would
perish rather than accept it."
"However," continued he, "though I fear my help comes too late, yet you
shall at least die in a more comfortable place than this dreary cave."
So saying, with some exertion of his strength, he raised the sufferer,
who had again relapsed into a state of insensibility, from the ground;
and, taking him in his arms, he proceeded to carry him to the Valley of
Limes.
The touch of his dry and burning hand gave a sensation of pain to
Philip, when it came in contact with his own, and his head dropped in
powerless languor on his shoulder. Philip rested by the spring of water,
and bathed Lord Robert's face and hands in the cool element: this seemed
to revive him a little, and he drank eagerly from a shell of water which
Philip held to his burning lips. Had it not been for this refreshment,
the sufferer must have expired from thirst and exhaustion before they
arrived at the valley. As it was, he appeared to endure so much pain
from his exposure to the heat of the sun, that Philip uttered an
expression of thankfulness when he reached the shelter of the hut, and
laid his helpless burden on the couch of matting within it. But Lord
Robert had swooned from weakness and fatigue, and lay for many hours
without motion or sensation.
Philip now busied himself in procuring a large supply both of water and
limes; and, mixing the juice of the limes in water, continually bathed
the sufferer's hands and temples with this refreshing liquid, watching
anxiously for returning life. The next day Lord Robert opened his eyes,
and expressed his surprise and pleasure at finding his condition so much
improved. But his reason was lost in delirium; he talked incessantly;
and, addressing Philip by the name of his brother, bestowed on him the
most endearing expressions of affection and described to him the
particulars of his illness, and all his dreadful privations, in a manner
pathetically minute.
Philip, deeply interested, and forgetting that he spoke under the
influence of delirium, anxiously exclaimed, "Why did you not return to
the Valley of Limes?"--"Because," replied his Lordship, wholly
unconscious to whom he spoke, "I was ill and alone, and totally unable
to cope with that insolent Harley, who menaced me with his superior
strength."
Philip started at hearing his name so mentioned; and Lord Robert
continued at intervals to speak on this subject, sometimes passionately
blaming himself; and at other times, with all the inconsistency of
delirium, bitterly complaining of Philip.
Philip was greatly surprised and agitated, when, after much unconnected
wandering, Lord Robert said: "You, Augustus, always blamed me about that
Philip Harley, and said you knew him to be an estimable youth, and that
he had been hardly used through a prejudice I had against him; but what
would you have thought, Augustus, had you seen him clench his hand and
threaten your unhappy brother with personal ill-treatment, when he was
too ill to defend himself from his violence?"
Philip blushed deeply when he heard this; for he remembered using this
gesture in the vehemence of his last wrathful address to Lord Robert;
and now that he found how ill he had been at that time, he felt doubly
ashamed of having suffered himself to be so transported by passion.
From these self-reproaches he was again roused by Lord Robert's
speaking; but he had wandered to a different subject, and evidently
imagined himself at his own home, for he demanded "ices, peaches, and
strawberries," in a tone of feverish impatience; and Philip was at a
loss how to satisfy these cravings; but when at last Lord Robert
mentioned "grapes," Philip remembered those that were ripening on the
roof of the hut, and hastened to see if any were fit to eat; though his
patient, in a tone of displeasure, called him to return and send a
servant to execute his orders, for he did not choose to be left alone.
This was, however, unavoidable; and in a moment he returned with a rich
cluster, perfectly ripe. Lord Robert eagerly seized them, with an
exclamation of joy; but he was reduced to such a state of weakness, that
he was unable to convey them to his mouth; and resigning the cluster to
Philip, begged him to feed him. Philip obeyed, and attended to all his
whims with the greatest patience. At length, exhausted by the volubility
of delirium, he sank again into a death-like stupor, in which he lay,
without sense or motion, the whole of the night, and till the next day
was far advanced.
Philip, who had continued to bathe his hands and face at intervals,
perceived by the painful motion of his lips that he wanted something to
drink. Philip raised his head, and supported it on his bosom, while he
held to his lips a shell full of the juice of limes and grapes. Lord
Robert drank this delicious beverage eagerly; then opening his eyes,
which Philip thought would never again have unclosed, he looked up in
his face, as if to thank him for the relief; and Philip saw by the
expression of wonder and astonishment in those eyes, so lately fixed and
rayless, that he knew him, and was no longer under the influence of
delirium. A deep crimson mounted to his pallid cheek, as he
said--"Harley, I don't deserve this kindness at _your_ hands:" and with
a deep sigh he again relapsed into insensibility. The sound of his
voice, and the manner in which he pronounced this short sentence,
thrilled to Philip's heart; and he hung over him with a tender interest,
watching the progress of his disorder with the most intense anxiety.
Philip had been little accustomed to witness illness: he had scarcely
ever watched by a sick-bed, with the exception of the illness of his
sister, who had died; but death had laid so gentle a hand on her, that
her decease rather resembled the withering of a flower than the passage
of a mortal to the grave: far different from the terrific advances of a
raging tropical fever, which brought Lord Robert, through stages of
exquisite suffering, nearly to the eve of dissolution.
The sight of these sufferings had extinguished the last spark of
animosity in Philip's bosom; and it was with feelings nearly allied to
those with which he contemplated the death-bed of that beloved sister,
that he awaited the termination of Lord Robert's disorder. That it would
be fatal he doubted not, for he watched in vain for a second interval
of reason; but day after day passed, without the slightest intermission
of suffering; but the fever seemed rather to increase in violence, and
his Lordship's wanderings from reason assumed a more gloomy character,
in which the most unbounded expressions of self-reproach had a principal
share. No longer petulant and impatient, he appeared sunk in the deepest
despondency; and this turn in the disease alarmed Philip more than his
most extravagant fits of raving. It was truly awful to see a
fellow-creature, and, alas! a very erring one, on the brink of eternity,
without a ray of reason being granted him to prepare to meet his great
account. It then occurred to Philip, that many of the faults of which
the unhappy sufferer accused himself, had been occasioned by his own
pertinacity in throwing himself in his way, and provoking him to violent
conduct; by that means setting his fiery temper in a blaze, and causing
his evil passions to be ever uppermost, till they prompted him to commit
those injuries for which he now suffered the most bitter remorse.
"Had I avoided him half as carefully as I sought him," exclaimed Philip,
"he would soon have forgotten an individual so much beneath his own
rank. I am accountable for many of his errors. True, he abused his power
on board the Diomede; but how have I behaved since our residence on this
island?"
Philip pursued these self-accusing reflections as he was kneeling by
Lord Robert's side, and fanning him with the wing of a sea-fowl, which
Neptune had brought him the day before. The weather had been intensely
hot, and attended with thunder and lightning; but as the day declined,
some heavy rain descended, which had the effect of cooling the burning
earth. This salutary change produced an alteration in Lord Robert, who
opening his eyes, gazed round him in indescribable astonishment. At last
he said, "Where am I? How came I here?"
"Be composed, my Lord," said Philip, much agitated; for he had long
dreaded the moment when Lord Robert would ask this question, and he had
meditated to address such words to him as would soothe his proud
feelings; but he found that he could not speak; he only regarded his
Lordship with a troubled countenance, dropping the feathers with which,
till now, he had continued to fan him.
"Harley," said Lord Robert, the flush of fever fading to a deadly
paleness as he spoke, "I now comprehend my situation; cease to oppress
me with this unmerited kindness!" Then speaking in a less collected
manner: "No! it must not be! I have injured you too deeply! Go, leave
the oppressor to die alone; I saw _you_ suffering, and did not pity you;
and it is not fit for the merciless to receive mercy!"
He turned away his face, and covered it with his emaciated hands; but
Philip knew, by the convulsive heaving of his bosom, that he was
weeping. Philip, from a feeling of delicacy, withdrew to a little
distance, to avoid the intrusive appearance of watching Lord Robert's
emotions; and he feared to increase his agitation, or offend his proud
spirit, by even offering a word of comfort. Yet his caution was
unnecessary, for the tears Lord Robert shed were not those of humbled
pride, but they were those of a broken and contrite spirit; they were
such tears as would occasion joy in Heaven, for they were those of true
penitence; and Lord Robert was not ashamed of indulging in them, neither
did he seek to conceal their traces from Philip, when he turned his eyes
towards him, and motioned him to approach.
"Harley," said he, "can you forgive me?"
"Ah, my Lord," said Philip, "I have to the full as much reason to ask
your forgiveness. We have both erred, from the indulgence of an
implacable temper; and if you repent of your offences as much as I have
done of my trespasses against you, we may both be, in future, more
acceptable in the eyes of our Heavenly Father, to whom 'hatred, malice,
and all uncharitableness,' are most offensive."
"Harley," said his Lordship, "you are too generous! How could I so
cruelly persecute one capable of such noble conduct!"
"Cease to accuse yourself, my Lord; you are too ill to continue this
agitating conversation," said Philip, observing Lord Robert look very
pale.
"No," returned Lord Robert; "I feel my thoughts begin to grow confused!
This may be the last interval of reason vouchsafed me; and I would
willingly make use of it to assure you that I die at peace with you, and
blessing you; and may your last hours be sweetened by the remembrance of
your generous conduct to your enemy! When I am no more, save a lock of
my hair, and give it to my mother when you return to England, which you
will soon have an opportunity of doing. Tell her, if I wished to live,
it was to see her again, and to confess to my father that I had been
guilty of prejudicing him against you, Harley, by misrepresenting the
reason of our first quarrel, which was the cause of your being pressed.
Tell me, sincerely, can you forgive me for that, Harley?"
"I can--I do!" replied Philip, approaching close to the couch; "and, in
proof that your Lordship exchanges forgiveness with me, give me your
hand." Lord Robert threw himself into his arms, and Philip felt his
tears wet his bosom. Yet at that moment each felt happier than he had
done for months before. But Philip became painfully anxious for the
invalid, the violence of whose emotions brought on a fresh access of
fever. He began again to talk wildly, and Philip strove in vain to
repress his ravings, till at length he sank into a death-like stupor,
scarcely giving any symptom of animation.
Philip now entertained the greatest apprehensions for his Lordship's
life, and was himself surprised at the pain he felt at the idea of
losing him. He had evinced such full and noble contrition for his
errors, that Philip, forgetting all his injuries, wondered how he had
ever borne a hatred so bitter against him. That hatred had, indeed,
changed gradually into an affection so warm, that he was ready to impute
to his own faulty temper the blame of all that had passed. "And, oh!"
said he, as he hung over the couch where Lord Robert lay, apparently
unconscious of his presence, "who could think that I, who now watch so
anxiously every change of his pallid countenance, could once have taken
delight in provoking him to fight with me, and then took a savage
pleasure in aiming my blows at his face, and disfiguring his fine
features with the marks of my violence? Ruffian that I was!"
Here a gentle pressure from the hand he held in his, convinced him that
Lord Robert was sensible, and had heard this soliloquy. Philip started
and coloured at this idea; and Lord Robert said in a faint voice:--
"If you, my dear Harley, so severely accuse yourself for what was a just
retaliation for my unfeeling arrogance, what must be my feelings of
self-condemnation for my conduct on board the Diomede, on which I cannot
think without agony?"
"Never think of it again, my Lord," said Philip, to whom the appellation
of "dear Harley" had given a sensation of the greatest pleasure; "let me
beg you never again to agitate yourself by a painful remembrance of what
is past: I would endure much to see you well and happy."
After some time, Philip succeeded in soothing his patient into some
degree of composure; and at length he had the satisfaction of seeing him
sink into a profound sleep. Then, being worn out with anxious watching
and fatigue, he threw himself on the ground, and enjoyed a calm and
refreshing slumber. When he awoke, it was about sunrise; and seeing Lord
Robert still asleep, he went out to get a supply of fruit and turtle. On
his return, he found Lord Robert awake and evidently better; for he was
returning the caresses of Neptune, who certainly had deserved his
fondness, for he had been almost as watchful and abstinent, and as
attentive to his master's sufferings, as Philip himself. The patient
extended his hand towards Philip as he entered, who hastened to him and
inquired tenderly, "how long he had been awake, and how he found
himself?"
"Long enough to miss you, and well enough to thank you for your
unwearied kindness," said Lord Robert, with a melancholy smile. Philip
respectfully took the hand that was extended towards him; and, after
expressing his pleasure at seeing him so much recovered, began to busy
himself in procuring him all the comforts in his power. Lord Robert, for
the first time since his illness, was able to raise himself to wash his
hands and face in some water which Philip brought him in a turtle-shell.
After this grateful refreshment, he attempted with his pocket-comb to
disentangle his ruffled and matted hair; but his hands trembled so much
from weakness, that he sank exhausted on the couch. Philip took the comb
from his hands, and with great care and patience succeeded in smoothing
and reducing to their natural order these refractory ringlets. Lord
Robert repeatedly bade him give himself no farther trouble, but take his
knife and cut them off as well as he could. But Philip did not like to
spoil the fine hair which Lord Robert had once been proud of; and had
the Marchioness herself presided at this operation, it could not have
been more tenderly performed than by the hands of this young sailor;
and his patient appeared to derive great benefit from this attention to
his personal comforts, though reduced to a state of infantine weakness.
Lord Robert now rapidly improved in health, and was soon enabled, with
the assistance of Philip's arm, to walk in the Valley of Limes in the
cool of the morning. Notwithstanding this improvement, however, Philip
continued to attend on him with the most assiduous care; and even when
he was in a state of convalescence, still performed for him all those
little offices which he knew Lord Robert had been accustomed to have
done for him by his attendants, though his Lordship did not wish to
consider himself entitled to such services in his present situation.
One morning, Philip arose much earlier than usual. On his return from
the beach with a load of wreck, he was much surprised, not only to see
Lord Robert up and dressed, but employing himself in preparing the
breakfast. Philip threw down his load and ran to him, exclaiming, "Why,
my Lord, did you rise till I was ready to assist you to dress? And,
above all, why do you fatigue yourself by an employment so little
suitable to your rank?"
"Hush! hush! my dear Harley," returned Lord Robert, laying his hand
playfully on Philip's lips. "Not a word about my useless rank now!
Remember _we are equals here_!"
"Alas! my Lord," said Philip dejectedly, "I perceive you have not wholly
forgiven me, or you would not repeat my impertinence."
"Which had much _truth_ in it, though I took it so ill at the time,"
said Lord Robert, laughing. "However, Harley, without wishing to refer
to unpleasant occurrences, or designing to wound your feelings, (which I
should be a most ungrateful, cold-hearted fellow, were I to do,) I must
tell you, that I cannot consent to be attended on with the same
deference as if I were his Britannic Majesty in retirement,--at least,
while I have done nothing to merit such distinction."
"Ah! my Lord," said Philip, "if you knew the pleasure which the
performance of these little services affords me, you would not wish to
deprive me of it: and, indeed, nothing but your absolute prohibition
shall prevent me from continuing them."
"You are a noble-minded fellow, Harley; but it is not for me to talk of
prohibiting or commanding _here_, where I am your superior in
nothing----"
"Again, my Lord!" said Philip, turning away.
"Where," answered his Lordship, "I am your inferior in everything, and
am so much in love with your just way of thinking, and noble
independence, that I would willingly imitate both; and, my dear Philip,
you must not take it ill, if I refuse to live by your labours while I
have hands of my own. Tell me, Harley, will you accept such an awkward
fellow as I have proved myself to be, for your pupil?"
"I cannot refuse you anything," said Philip; "but while you are so
debilitated from your long illness, you neither must nor shall do
anything to fatigue yourself."
So saying, he proceeded to serve up the turtle which Lord Robert had
stewed for breakfast; reproaching him, as he did so, for demeaning
himself by performing the office of a cook.
Lord Robert, laughing, told him that it encouraged him not a little in
his design of becoming useful, to observe that his last attempt of that
kind had succeeded so much better than his first. "But," continued he,
"perseverance overcomes all difficulties; and before long, I may become
as good a carpenter as I have this morning proved myself a cook."
Philip shook his head, and looked grave.
"So you doubt my abilities," continued Lord Robert, who would not
understand him; "now that is mortifying, Harley! But I forgive you,
considering that the circumstance of the three-legged stool could not
have impressed you with a very favourable opinion of my genius in such
matters."
"Let me entreat your Lordship never to allude to my conduct in that
affair again," said Philip.
"Now, on the contrary," returned Lord Robert gaily, "I have serious
thoughts of fetching the aforesaid stool from under the tree where I so
petulantly flung it; and of soliciting you to lend me that rule and saw,
which I so rudely refused when you would have permitted me to make use
of them to correct my blunders; which was very generous on your part,
considering how awkwardly I handled my only tool, and how easily I might
have injured yours."
Philip was astonished at the ease and frankness with which Lord Robert
spoke of these circumstances, but again implored him not to allude to
the past.
"Had you told me anything but the _truth_," replied Lord Robert,
"perhaps I might be excused if I repeated your remarks with displeasure.
But the lesson was too salutary to be forgotten. In common with many of
high birth, I have been too much accustomed to the language of flattery,
instead of that of truth and justice; till, forgetting the relative
obligations of society, and never checking the defects of my temper, I
was led to commit outrages on every one who did not yield a blind
submission to my whims. You, Harley, have opened my eyes to my faults;
and it will, in future, be my constant study to correct them, convinced,
as I now am, of the folly of trusting to rank and riches alone for
influence and consideration among my fellow-creatures."
The day after this conversation, Lord Robert was well enough to
accompany Philip to the beach, to seek for turtles' eggs. In this search
they wandered to a different part of the island, and Lord Robert
discovered, at a little distance, something dark and large heaving
among the surf; he called Philip's attention to it, who soon got it on
shore; and they found it to be a chest belonging to some of the
unfortunate crew of the Diomede: it was heavy, but Philip soon carried
it to the hut.
"What do you think it contains?" said Lord Robert, as Philip was forcing
the lid.
"Tools, I hope," said Philip; "for the chest is weighty." And as he
spoke, he used so powerful an effort that the lid gave way to his force.
"Not tools, but books!" exclaimed Lord Robert, highly delighted at the
sight which presented itself on Philip's removing the lid. Philip,
however, was disappointed.
"Tools would have been of unspeakable service," said he, almost vexed at
the joy Lord Robert expressed at the sight of the books.
"But these will be of infinitely more service," replied Lord Robert,
taking one of the books and turning to the title-page; but his lip
quivered as he read the name there written, which was "Lucius Cary."
"Alas! poor Cary!" said he, in an altered tone of voice; "was it _your_
chest that we thought ourselves so fortunate in finding, and that we
opened with such glee?"
Philip, deeply affected, softly closed the lid: for they both were in
too melancholy a mood to continue to examine the contents of the chest;
nor was it till several days had passed that they assumed firmness
enough to open it again.