Produced by Judith Boss and Charles Keller
THE PURCELL PAPERS.
BY THE LATE
JOSEPH SHERIDAN LE FANU,
AUTHOR OF 'UNCLE SILAS.'
With a Memoir by
ALFRED PERCEVAL GRAVES
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
CONTENTS OF VOL. II.
PASSAGE IN THE SECRET HISTORY OF AN IRISH COUNTESS
THE BRIDAL OF CARRIGVARAH
STRANGE EVENT IN THE LIFE OF SCHALKEN THE PAINTER
SCRAPS OF HIBERNIAN BALLADS
PASSAGE IN THE SECRET HISTORY OF AN IRISH COUNTESS.
Being a Fifth Extract from the Legacy of the late Francis
Purcell, P.P. of Drumcoolagh.
The following paper is written in a female hand, and was no doubt
communicated to my much-regretted friend by the lady whose early history
it serves to illustrate, the Countess D----. She is no more--she long
since died, a childless and a widowed wife, and, as her letter sadly
predicts, none survive to whom the publication of this narrative can
prove 'injurious, or even painful.' Strange! two powerful and wealthy
families, that in which she was born, and that into which she had
married, have ceased to be--they are utterly extinct.
To those who know anything of the history of Irish families, as they
were less than a century ago, the facts which immediately follow will
at once suggest THE NAMES of the principal actors; and to others
their publication would be useless--to us, possibly, if not probably,
injurious. I have, therefore, altered such of the names as might, if
stated, get us into difficulty; others, belonging to minor characters in
the strange story, I have left untouched.
My dear friend,--You have asked me to furnish you with a detail of
the strange events which marked my early history, and I have, without
hesitation, applied myself to the task, knowing that, while I live, a
kind consideration for my feelings will prevent your giving publicity
to the statement; and conscious that, when I am no more, there will not
survive one to whom the narrative can prove injurious, or even painful.
My mother died when I was quite an infant, and of her I have no
recollection, even the faintest. By her death, my education and habits
were left solely to the guidance of my surviving parent; and, as far
as a stern attention to my religious instruction, and an active anxiety
evinced by his procuring for me the best masters to perfect me in those
accomplishments which my station and wealth might seem to require, could
avail, he amply discharged the task.
My father was what is called an oddity, and his treatment of me, though
uniformly kind, flowed less from affection and tenderness than from a
sense of obligation and duty. Indeed, I seldom even spoke to him except
at meal-times, and then his manner was silent and abrupt; his leisure
hours, which were many, were passed either in his study or in solitary
walks; in short, he seemed to take no further interest in my happiness
or improvement than a conscientious regard to the discharge of his own
duty would seem to claim.
Shortly before my birth a circumstance had occurred which had
contributed much to form and to confirm my father's secluded habits--it
was the fact that a suspicion of MURDER had fallen upon his younger
brother, though not sufficiently definite to lead to an indictment, yet
strong enough to ruin him in public opinion.
This disgraceful and dreadful doubt cast upon the family name, my
father felt deeply and bitterly, and not the less so that he himself
was thoroughly convinced of his brother's innocence. The sincerity and
strength of this impression he shortly afterwards proved in a manner
which produced the dark events which follow. Before, however, I enter
upon the statement of them, I ought to relate the circumstances which
had awakened the suspicion; inasmuch as they are in themselves somewhat
curious, and, in their effects, most intimately connected with my
after-history.
My uncle, Sir Arthur T----n, was a gay and extravagant man, and,
among other vices, was ruinously addicted to gaming; this unfortunate
propensity, even after his fortune had suffered so severely as to render
inevitable a reduction in his expenses by no means inconsiderable,
nevertheless continued to actuate him, nearly to the exclusion of all
other pursuits; he was, however, a proud, or rather a vain man,
and could not bear to make the diminution of his income a matter of
gratulation and triumph to those with whom he had hitherto competed, and
the consequence was, that he frequented no longer the expensive haunts
of dissipation, and retired from the gay world, leaving his coterie to
discover his reasons as best they might.
He did not, however, forego his favourite vice, for, though he could not
worship his great divinity in the costly temples where it was formerly
his wont to take his stand, yet he found it very possible to bring about
him a sufficient number of the votaries of chance to answer all his
ends. The consequence was, that Carrickleigh, which was the name of my
uncle's residence, was never without one or more of such visitors as I
have described.
It happened that upon one occasion he was visited by one Hugh Tisdall,
a gentleman of loose habits, but of considerable wealth, and who had, in
early youth, travelled with my uncle upon the Continent; the period of
his visit was winter, and, consequently, the house was nearly deserted
excepting by its regular inmates; it was therefore highly acceptable,
particularly as my uncle was aware that his visitor's tastes accorded
exactly with his own.
Both parties seemed determined to avail themselves of their suitability
during the brief stay which Mr. Tisdall had promised; the consequence
was, that they shut themselves up in Sir Arthur's private room for
nearly all the day and the greater part of the night, during the space
of nearly a week, at the end of which the servant having one morning,
as usual, knocked at Mr. Tisdall's bedroom door repeatedly, received no
answer, and, upon attempting to enter, found that it was locked; this
appeared suspicious, and, the inmates of the house having been alarmed,
the door was forced open, and, on proceeding to the bed, they found the
body of its occupant perfectly lifeless, and hanging half-way out, the
head downwards, and near the floor. One deep wound had been inflicted
upon the temple, apparently with some blunt instrument which had
penetrated the brain; and another blow, less effective, probably the
first aimed, had grazed the head, removing some of the scalp, but
leaving the skull untouched. The door had been double-locked upon the
INSIDE, in evidence of which the key still lay where it had been placed
in the lock.
The window, though not secured on the interior, was closed--a
circumstance not a little puzzling, as it afforded the only other mode
of escape from the room; it looked out, too, upon a kind of courtyard,
round which the old buildings stood, formerly accessible by a narrow
doorway and passage lying in the oldest side of the quadrangle, but
which had since been built up, so as to preclude all ingress or egress;
the room was also upon the second story, and the height of the window
considerable. Near the bed were found a pair of razors belonging to the
murdered man, one of them upon the ground, and both of them open. The
weapon which had inflicted the mortal wound was not to be found in
the room, nor were any footsteps or other traces of the murderer
discoverable.
At the suggestion of Sir Arthur himself, a coroner was instantly
summoned to attend, and an inquest was held; nothing, however, in any
degree conclusive was elicited; the walls, ceiling, and floor of
the room were carefully examined, in order to ascertain whether they
contained a trap-door or other concealed mode of entrance--but no such
thing appeared.
Such was the minuteness of investigation employed, that, although the
grate had contained a large fire during the night, they proceeded to
examine even the very chimney, in order to discover whether escape by
it were possible; but this attempt, too, was fruitless, for the chimney,
built in the old fashion, rose in a perfectly perpendicular line from
the hearth to a height of nearly fourteen feet above the roof, affording
in its interior scarcely the possibility of ascent, the flue being
smoothly plastered, and sloping towards the top like an inverted funnel,
promising, too, even if the summit were attained, owing to its great
height, but a precarious descent upon the sharp and steep-ridged roof;
the ashes, too, which lay in the grate, and the soot, as far as it
could be seen, were undisturbed, a circumstance almost conclusive of the
question.
Sir Arthur was of course examined; his evidence was given with clearness
and unreserve, which seemed calculated to silence all suspicion.
He stated that, up to the day and night immediately preceding the
catastrophe, he had lost to a heavy amount, but that, at their last
sitting, he had not only won back his original loss, but upwards of
four thousand pounds in addition; in evidence of which he produced
an acknowledgment of debt to that amount in the handwriting of the
deceased, and bearing the date of the fatal night. He had mentioned
the circumstance to his lady, and in presence of some of the domestics;
which statement was supported by THEIR respective evidence.
One of the jury shrewdly observed, that the circumstance of Mr.
Tisdall's having sustained so heavy a loss might have suggested to some
ill-minded persons accidentally hearing it, the plan of robbing him,
after having murdered him in such a manner as might make it appear that
he had committed suicide; a supposition which was strongly supported
by the razors having been found thus displaced, and removed from their
case. Two persons had probably been engaged in the attempt, one watching
by the sleeping man, and ready to strike him in case of his awakening
suddenly, while the other was procuring the razors and employed in
inflicting the fatal gash, so as to make it appear to have been the act
of the murdered man himself. It was said that while the juror was making
this suggestion Sir Arthur changed colour.
Nothing, however, like legal evidence appeared against him, and the
consequence was that the verdict was found against a person or persons
unknown; and for some time the matter was suffered to rest, until, after
about five months, my father received a letter from a person signing
himself Andrew Collis, and representing himself to be the cousin of the
deceased. This letter stated that Sir Arthur was likely to incur not
merely suspicion, but personal risk, unless he could account for certain
circumstances connected with the recent murder, and contained a copy of
a letter written by the deceased, and bearing date, the day of the week,
and of the month, upon the night of which the deed of blood had been
perpetrated. Tisdall's note ran as follows:
'DEAR COLLIS,
'I have had sharp work with Sir
Arthur; he tried some of his stale tricks, but soon found that _I_ was
Yorkshire too: it would not do--you understand me. We went to the work
like good ones, head, heart and soul; and, in fact, since I came here, I
have lost no time. I am rather fagged, but I am sure to be well paid
for my hardship; I never want sleep so long as I can have the music of a
dice-box, and wherewithal to pay the piper. As I told you, he tried some
of his queer turns, but I foiled him like a man, and, in return, gave
him more than he could relish of the genuine DEAD KNOWLEDGE.
'In short, I have plucked the old baronet as never baronet was plucked
before; I have scarce left him the stump of a quill; I have got
promissory notes in his hand to the amount of--if you like round
numbers, say, thirty thousand pounds, safely deposited in my portable
strong-box, alias double-clasped pocket-book. I leave this ruinous old
rat-hole early on to-morrow, for two reasons--first, I do not want to
play with Sir Arthur deeper than I think his security, that is, his
money, or his money's worth, would warrant; and, secondly, because I am
safer a hundred miles from Sir Arthur than in the house with him. Look
you, my worthy, I tell you this between ourselves--I may be wrong, but,
by G--, I am as sure as that I am now living, that Sir A---- attempted
to poison me last night; so much for old friendship on both sides.
'When I won the last stake, a heavy one enough, my friend leant his
forehead upon his hands, and you'll laugh when I tell you that his
head literally smoked like a hot dumpling. I do not know whether his
agitation was produced by the plan which he had against me, or by his
having lost so heavily--though it must be allowed that he had reason to
be a little funked, whichever way his thoughts went; but he pulled
the bell, and ordered two bottles of champagne. While the fellow was
bringing them he drew out a promissory note to the full amount, which he
signed, and, as the man came in with the bottles and glasses, he desired
him to be off; he filled out a glass for me, and, while he thought my
eyes were off, for I was putting up his note at the time, he dropped
something slyly into it, no doubt to sweeten it; but I saw it all, and,
when he handed it to me, I said, with an emphasis which he might or
might not understand:
'"There is some sediment in this; I'll not drink it."
'"Is there?" said he, and at the same time snatched it from my hand and
threw it into the fire. What do you think of that? have I not a tender
chicken to manage? Win or lose, I will not play beyond five thousand
to-night, and to-morrow sees me safe out of the reach of Sir Arthur's
champagne. So, all things considered, I think you must allow that you
are not the last who have found a knowing boy in
'Yours to command,
'HUGH TISDALL.'
Of the authenticity of this document I never heard my father express a
doubt; and I am satisfied that, owing to his strong conviction in
favour of his brother, he would not have admitted it without sufficient
inquiry, inasmuch as it tended to confirm the suspicions which already
existed to his prejudice.
Now, the only point in this letter which made strongly against my uncle,
was the mention of the 'double-clasped pocket-book' as the receptacle
of the papers likely to involve him, for this pocket-book was not
forthcoming, nor anywhere to be found, nor had any papers referring to
his gaming transactions been found upon the dead man. However, whatever
might have been the original intention of this Collis, neither my uncle
nor my father ever heard more of him; but he published the letter in
Faulkner's newspaper, which was shortly afterwards made the vehicle of
a much more mysterious attack. The passage in that periodical to which
I allude, occurred about four years afterwards, and while the fatal
occurrence was still fresh in public recollection. It commenced by a
rambling preface, stating that 'a CERTAIN PERSON whom CERTAIN persons
thought to be dead, was not so, but living, and in full possession
of his memory, and moreover ready and able to make GREAT delinquents
tremble.' It then went on to describe the murder, without, however,
mentioning names; and in doing so, it entered into minute and
circumstantial particulars of which none but an EYE-WITNESS could
have been possessed, and by implications almost too unequivocal to be
regarded in the light of insinuation, to involve the 'TITLED GAMBLER' in
the guilt of the transaction.
My father at once urged Sir Arthur to proceed against the paper in an
action of libel; but he would not hear of it, nor consent to my father's
taking any legal steps whatever in the matter. My father, however, wrote
in a threatening tone to Faulkner, demanding a surrender of the author
of the obnoxious article. The answer to this application is still in
my possession, and is penned in an apologetic tone: it states that
the manuscript had been handed in, paid for, and inserted as an
advertisement, without sufficient inquiry, or any knowledge as to whom
it referred.
No step, however, was taken to clear my uncle's character in the
judgment of the public; and as he immediately sold a small property, the
application of the proceeds of which was known to none, he was said
to have disposed of it to enable himself to buy off the threatened
information. However the truth might have been, it is certain that no
charges respecting the mysterious murder were afterwards publicly made
against my uncle, and, as far as external disturbances were concerned,
he enjoyed henceforward perfect security and quiet.
A deep and lasting impression, however, had been made upon the public
mind, and Sir Arthur T----n was no longer visited or noticed by the
gentry and aristocracy of the county, whose attention and courtesies
he had hitherto received. He accordingly affected to despise these
enjoyments which he could not procure, and shunned even that society
which he might have commanded.
This is all that I need recapitulate of my uncle's history, and I now
recur to my own. Although my father had never, within my recollection,
visited, or been visited by, my uncle, each being of sedentary,
procrastinating, and secluded habits, and their respective residences
being very far apart--the one lying in the county of Galway, the other
in that of Cork--he was strongly attached to his brother, and evinced
his affection by an active correspondence, and by deeply and proudly
resenting that neglect which had marked Sir Arthur as unfit to mix in
society.
When I was about eighteen years of age, my father, whose health had been
gradually declining, died, leaving me in heart wretched and desolate,
and, owing to his previous seclusion, with few acquaintances, and almost
no friends.
The provisions of his will were curious, and when I had sufficiently
come to myself to listen to or comprehend them, surprised me not a
little: all his vast property was left to me, and to the heirs of my
body, for ever; and, in default of such heirs, it was to go after my
death to my uncle, Sir Arthur, without any entail.
At the same time, the will appointed him my guardian, desiring that
I might be received within his house, and reside with his family, and
under his care, during the term of my minority; and in consideration of
the increased expense consequent upon such an arrangement, a handsome
annuity was allotted to him during the term of my proposed residence.
The object of this last provision I at once understood: my father
desired, by making it the direct, apparent interest of Sir Arthur that I
should die without issue, while at the same time he placed me wholly
in his power, to prove to the world how great and unshaken was his
confidence in his brother's innocence and honour, and also to afford
him an opportunity of showing that this mark of confidence was not
unworthily bestowed.
It was a strange, perhaps an idle scheme; but as I had been always
brought up in the habit of considering my uncle as a deeply-injured man,
and had been taught, almost as a part of my religion, to regard him as
the very soul of honour, I felt no further uneasiness respecting the
arrangement than that likely to result to a timid girl, of secluded
habits, from the immediate prospect of taking up her abode for the first
time in her life among total strangers. Previous to leaving my home,
which I felt I should do with a heavy heart, I received a most tender
and affectionate letter from my uncle, calculated, if anything could do
so, to remove the bitterness of parting from scenes familiar and dear
from my earliest childhood, and in some degree to reconcile me to the
measure.
It was during a fine autumn that I approached the old domain of
Carrickleigh. I shall not soon forget the impression of sadness and
of gloom which all that I saw produced upon my mind; the sunbeams were
falling with a rich and melancholy tint upon the fine old trees, which
stood in lordly groups, casting their long, sweeping shadows over rock
and sward. There was an air of neglect and decay about the spot, which
amounted almost to desolation; the symptoms of this increased in number
as we approached the building itself, near which the ground had been
originally more artificially and carefully cultivated than elsewhere,
and whose neglect consequently more immediately and strikingly betrayed
itself.
As we proceeded, the road wound near the beds of what had been formally
two fish-ponds, which were now nothing more than stagnant swamps,
overgrown with rank weeds, and here and there encroached upon by the
straggling underwood; the avenue itself was much broken, and in many
places the stones were almost concealed by grass and nettles; the loose
stone walls which had here and there intersected the broad park were,
in many places, broken down, so as no longer to answer their original
purpose as fences; piers were now and then to be seen, but the gates
were gone; and, to add to the general air of dilapidation, some huge
trunks were lying scattered through the venerable old trees, either the
work of the winter storms, or perhaps the victims of some extensive but
desultory scheme of denudation, which the projector had not capital or
perseverance to carry into full effect.
After the carriage had travelled a mile of this avenue, we reached the
summit of rather an abrupt eminence, one of the many which added to the
picturesqueness, if not to the convenience of this rude passage. From
the top of this ridge the grey walls of Carrickleigh were visible,
rising at a small distance in front, and darkened by the hoary
wood which crowded around them. It was a quadrangular building of
considerable extent, and the front which lay towards us, and in which
the great entrance was placed, bore unequivocal marks of antiquity; the
time-worn, solemn aspect of the old building, the ruinous and deserted
appearance of the whole place, and the associations which connected
it with a dark page in the history of my family, combined to depress
spirits already predisposed for the reception of sombre and dejecting
impressions.
When the carriage drew up in the grass-grown court yard before the
hall-door, two lazy-looking men, whose appearance well accorded with
that of the place which they tenanted, alarmed by the obstreperous
barking of a great chained dog, ran out from some half-ruinous
out-houses, and took charge of the horses; the hall-door stood open, and
I entered a gloomy and imperfectly lighted apartment, and found no one
within. However, I had not long to wait in this awkward predicament, for
before my luggage had been deposited in the house, indeed, before I
had well removed my cloak and other wraps, so as to enable me to look
around, a young girl ran lightly into the hall, and kissing me heartily,
and somewhat boisterously, exclaimed:
'My dear cousin, my dear Margaret--I am so delighted--so out of breath.
We did not expect you till ten o'clock; my father is somewhere about the
place, he must be close at hand. James--Corney--run out and tell
your master--my brother is seldom at home, at least at any reasonable
hour--you must be so tired--so fatigued--let me show you to your
room--see that Lady Margaret's luggage is all brought up--you must lie
down and rest yourself--Deborah, bring some coffee--up these stairs;
we are so delighted to see you--you cannot think how lonely I have
been--how steep these stairs are, are not they? I am so glad you are
come--I could hardly bring myself to believe that you were really
coming--how good of you, dear Lady Margaret.'
There was real good-nature and delight in my cousin's greeting, and a
kind of constitutional confidence of manner which placed me at once at
ease, and made me feel immediately upon terms of intimacy with her. The
room into which she ushered me, although partaking in the general air of
decay which pervaded the mansion and all about it, had nevertheless been
fitted up with evident attention to comfort, and even with some dingy
attempt at luxury; but what pleased me most was that it opened, by
a second door, upon a lobby which communicated with my fair cousin's
apartment; a circumstance which divested the room, in my eyes, of the
air of solitude and sadness which would otherwise have characterised it,
to a degree almost painful to one so dejected in spirits as I was.
After such arrangements as I found necessary were completed, we both
went down to the parlour, a large wainscoted room, hung round with grim
old portraits, and, as I was not sorry to see, containing in its ample
grate a large and cheerful fire. Here my cousin had leisure to talk more
at her ease; and from her I learned something of the manners and the
habits of the two remaining members of her family, whom I had not yet
seen.
On my arrival I had known nothing of the family among whom I was come to
reside, except that it consisted of three individuals, my uncle, and his
son and daughter, Lady T----n having been long dead. In addition to
this very scanty stock of information, I shortly learned from my
communicative companion that my uncle was, as I had suspected,
completely retired in his habits, and besides that, having been so far
back as she could well recollect, always rather strict, as reformed
rakes frequently become, he had latterly been growing more gloomily and
sternly religious than heretofore.
Her account of her brother was far less favourable, though she did not
say anything directly to his disadvantage. From all that I could gather
from her, I was led to suppose that he was a specimen of the idle,
coarse-mannered, profligate, low-minded 'squirearchy'--a result which
might naturally have flowed from the circumstance of his being, as it
were, outlawed from society, and driven for companionship to grades
below his own--enjoying, too, the dangerous prerogative of spending much
money.
However, you may easily suppose that I found nothing in my cousin's
communication fully to bear me out in so very decided a conclusion.
I awaited the arrival of my uncle, which was every moment to be
expected, with feelings half of alarm, half of curiosity--a sensation
which I have often since experienced, though to a less degree, when upon
the point of standing for the first time in the presence of one of whom
I have long been in the habit of hearing or thinking with interest.
It was, therefore, with some little perturbation that I heard, first a
slight bustle at the outer door, then a slow step traverse the hall, and
finally witnessed the door open, and my uncle enter the room. He was a
striking-looking man; from peculiarities both of person and of garb, the
whole effect of his appearance amounted to extreme singularity. He was
tall, and when young his figure must have been strikingly elegant; as it
was, however, its effect was marred by a very decided stoop. His dress
was of a sober colour, and in fashion anterior to anything which I could
remember. It was, however, handsome, and by no means carelessly put
on; but what completed the singularity of his appearance was his uncut,
white hair, which hung in long, but not at all neglected curls, even
so far as his shoulders, and which combined with his regularly classic
features, and fine dark eyes, to bestow upon him an air of venerable
dignity and pride, which I have never seen equalled elsewhere. I rose as
he entered, and met him about the middle of the room; he kissed my cheek
and both my hands, saying:
'You are most welcome, dear child, as welcome as the command of this
poor place and all that it contains can make you. I am most rejoiced to
see you--truly rejoiced. I trust that you are not much fatigued--pray
be seated again.' He led me to my chair, and continued: 'I am glad to
perceive you have made acquaintance with Emily already; I see, in your
being thus brought together, the foundation of a lasting friendship.
You are both innocent, and both young. God bless you--God bless you, and
make you all that I could wish.'
He raised his eyes, and remained for a few moments silent, as if
in secret prayer. I felt that it was impossible that this man, with
feelings so quick, so warm, so tender, could be the wretch that public
opinion had represented him to be. I was more than ever convinced of his
innocence.
His manner was, or appeared to me, most fascinating; there was a mingled
kindness and courtesy in it which seemed to speak benevolence itself. It
was a manner which I felt cold art could never have taught; it owed most
of its charm to its appearing to emanate directly from the heart; it
must be a genuine index of the owner's mind. So I thought.
My uncle having given me fully to understand that I was most welcome,
and might command whatever was his own, pressed me to take some
refreshment; and on my refusing, he observed that previously to
bidding me good-night, he had one duty further to perform, one in whose
observance he was convinced I would cheerfully acquiesce.
He then proceeded to read a chapter from the Bible; after which he took
his leave with the same affectionate kindness with which he had greeted
me, having repeated his desire that I should consider everything in his
house as altogether at my disposal. It is needless to say that I was
much pleased with my uncle--it was impossible to avoid being so; and I
could not help saying to myself, if such a man as this is not safe from
the assaults of slander, who is? I felt much happier than I had done
since my father's death, and enjoyed that night the first refreshing
sleep which had visited me since that event.
My curiosity respecting my male cousin did not long remain
unsatisfied--he appeared the next day at dinner. His manners, though not
so coarse as I had expected, were exceedingly disagreeable; there was an
assurance and a forwardness for which I was not prepared; there was less
of the vulgarity of manner, and almost more of that of the mind, than I
had anticipated. I felt quite uncomfortable in his presence; there was
just that confidence in his look and tone which would read encouragement
even in mere toleration; and I felt more disgusted and annoyed at the
coarse and extravagant compliments which he was pleased from time to
time to pay me, than perhaps the extent of the atrocity might fully
have warranted. It was, however, one consolation that he did not often
appear, being much engrossed by pursuits about which I neither knew nor
cared anything; but when he did appear, his attentions, either with
a view to his amusement or to some more serious advantage, were so
obviously and perseveringly directed to me, that young and inexperienced
as I was, even _I_ could not be ignorant of his preference. I felt more
provoked by this odious persecution than I can express, and discouraged
him with so much vigour, that I employed even rudeness to convince him
that his assiduities were unwelcome; but all in vain.
This had gone on for nearly a twelve-month, to my infinite annoyance,
when one day as I was sitting at some needle-work with my companion
Emily, as was my habit, in the parlour, the door opened, and my cousin
Edward entered the room. There was something, I thought, odd in his
manner--a kind of struggle between shame and impudence--a kind of flurry
and ambiguity which made him appear, if possible, more than ordinarily
disagreeable.
'Your servant, ladies,' he said, seating himself at the same time;
'sorry to spoil your tete-a-tete, but never mind, I'll only take Emily's
place for a minute or two; and then we part for a while, fair cousin.
Emily, my father wants you in the corner turret. No shilly-shally; he's
in a hurry.' She hesitated. 'Be off--tramp, march!' he exclaimed, in a
tone which the poor girl dared not disobey.
She left the room, and Edward followed her to the door. He stood there
for a minute or two, as if reflecting what he should say, perhaps
satisfying himself that no one was within hearing in the hall.
At length he turned about, having closed the door, as if carelessly,
with his foot; and advancing slowly, as if in deep thought, he took his
seat at the side of the table opposite to mine.
There was a brief interval of silence, after which he said:
'I imagine that you have a shrewd suspicion of the object of my early
visit; but I suppose I must go into particulars. Must I?'
'I have no conception,' I replied, 'what your object may be.'
'Well, well,' said he, becoming more at his ease as he proceeded,
'it may be told in a few words. You know that it is totally
impossible--quite out of the question--that an offhand young fellow like
me, and a good-looking girl like yourself, could meet continually, as
you and I have done, without an attachment--a liking growing up on one
side or other; in short, I think I have let you know as plain as if I
spoke it, that I have been in love with you almost from the first time I
saw you.'
He paused; but I was too much horrified to speak. He interpreted my
silence favourably.
'I can tell you,' he continued, 'I'm reckoned rather hard to please, and
very hard to HIT. I can't say when I was taken with a girl before; so
you see fortune reserved me----'
Here the odious wretch wound his arm round my waist. The action at
once restored me to utterance, and with the most indignant vehemence I
released myself from his hold, and at the same time said:
'I have not been insensible, sir, of your most disagreeable
attentions--they have long been a source of much annoyance to me; and
you must be aware that I have marked my disapprobation--my disgust--as
unequivocally as I possibly could, without actual indelicacy.'
I paused, almost out of breath from the rapidity with which I had
spoken; and without giving him time to renew the conversation, I hastily
quitted the room, leaving him in a paroxysm of rage and mortification.
As I ascended the stairs, I heard him open the parlour-door with
violence, and take two or three rapid strides in the direction in which
I was moving. I was now much frightened, and ran the whole way until I
reached my room; and having locked the door, I listened breathlessly,
but heard no sound. This relieved me for the present; but so much had
I been overcome by the agitation and annoyance attendant upon the scene
which I had just gone through, that when my cousin Emily knocked at my
door, I was weeping in strong hysterics.
You will readily conceive my distress, when you reflect upon my
strong dislike to my cousin Edward, combined with my youth and extreme
inexperience. Any proposal of such a nature must have agitated me; but
that it should have come from the man whom of all others I most loathed
and abhorred, and to whom I had, as clearly as manner could do it,
expressed the state of my feelings, was almost too overwhelming to be
borne. It was a calamity, too, in which I could not claim the sympathy
of my cousin Emily, which had always been extended to me in my minor
grievances. Still I hoped that it might not be unattended with good; for
I thought that one inevitable and most welcome consequence would result
from this painful eclaircissment, in the discontinuance of my cousin's
odious persecution.
When I arose next morning, it was with the fervent hope that I might
never again behold the face, or even hear the name, of my cousin Edward;
but such a consummation, though devoutly to be wished, was hardly likely
to occur. The painful impressions of yesterday were too vivid to be at
once erased; and I could not help feeling some dim foreboding of coming
annoyance and evil.
To expect on my cousin's part anything like delicacy or consideration
for me, was out of the question. I saw that he had set his heart upon
my property, and that he was not likely easily to forego such an
acquisition--possessing what might have been considered opportunities
and facilities almost to compel my compliance.
I now keenly felt the unreasonableness of my father's conduct in placing
me to reside with a family of all whose members, with one exception,
he was wholly ignorant, and I bitterly felt the helplessness of my
situation. I determined, however, in case of my cousin's persevering in
his addresses, to lay all the particulars before my uncle, although
he had never in kindness or intimacy gone a step beyond our first
interview, and to throw myself upon his hospitality and his sense of
honour for protection against a repetition of such scenes.
My cousin's conduct may appear to have been an inadequate cause for
such serious uneasiness; but my alarm was caused neither by his acts
nor words, but entirely by his manner, which was strange and even
intimidating to excess. At the beginning of the yesterday's interview
there was a sort of bullying swagger in his air, which towards the
end gave place to the brutal vehemence of an undisguised ruffian--a
transition which had tempted me into a belief that he might seek even
forcibly to extort from me a consent to his wishes, or by means still
more horrible, of which I scarcely dared to trust myself to think, to
possess himself of my property.
I was early next day summoned to attend my uncle in his private
room, which lay in a corner turret of the old building; and thither I
accordingly went, wondering all the way what this unusual measure might
prelude. When I entered the room, he did not rise in his usual courteous
way to greet me, but simply pointed to a chair opposite to his own. This
boded nothing agreeable. I sat down, however, silently waiting until he
should open the conversation.
'Lady Margaret,' at length he said, in a tone of greater sternness than
I thought him capable of using, 'I have hitherto spoken to you as a
friend, but I have not forgotten that I am also your guardian, and that
my authority as such gives me a right to control your conduct. I shall
put a question to you, and I expect and will demand a plain, direct
answer. Have I rightly been informed that you have contemptuously
rejected the suit and hand of my son Edward?'
I stammered forth with a good deal of trepidation:
'I believe--that is, I have, sir, rejected my cousin's proposals; and
my coldness and discouragement might have convinced him that I had
determined to do so.'
'Madam,' replied he, with suppressed, but, as it appeared to me,
intense anger, 'I have lived long enough to know that COLDNESS and
discouragement, and such terms, form the common cant of a worthless
coquette. You know to the full, as well as I, that COLDNESS AND
DISCOURAGEMENT may be so exhibited as to convince their object that
he is neither distasteful or indifferent to the person who wears this
manner. You know, too, none better, that an affected neglect, when
skilfully managed, is amongst the most formidable of the engines which
artful beauty can employ. I tell you, madam, that having, without one
word spoken in discouragement, permitted my son's most marked attentions
for a twelvemonth or more, you have no right to dismiss him with no
further explanation than demurely telling him that you had always looked
coldly upon him; and neither your wealth nor your LADYSHIP' (there was
an emphasis of scorn on the word, which would have become Sir Giles
Overreach himself) 'can warrant you in treating with contempt the
affectionate regard of an honest heart.'
I was too much shocked at this undisguised attempt to bully me into
an acquiescence in the interested and unprincipled plan for their own
aggrandisement, which I now perceived my uncle and his son to have
deliberately entered into, at once to find strength or collectedness
to frame an answer to what he had said. At length I replied, with some
firmness:
'In all that you have just now said, sir, you have grossly misstated my
conduct and motives. Your information must have been most incorrect as
far as it regards my conduct towards my cousin; my manner towards him
could have conveyed nothing but dislike; and if anything could have
added to the strong aversion which I have long felt towards him, it
would be his attempting thus to trick and frighten me into a marriage
which he knows to be revolting to me, and which is sought by him only as
a means for securing to himself whatever property is mine.'
As I said this, I fixed my eyes upon those of my uncle, but he was too
old in the world's ways to falter beneath the gaze of more searching
eyes than mine; he simply said:
'Are you acquainted with the provisions of your father's will?'
I answered in the affirmative; and he continued:
'Then you must be aware that if my son Edward were--which God
forbid--the unprincipled, reckless man you pretend to think him'--(here
he spoke very slowly, as if he intended that every word which escaped
him should be registered in my memory, while at the same time the
expression of his countenance underwent a gradual but horrible change,
and the eyes which he fixed upon me became so darkly vivid, that
I almost lost sight of everything else)--'if he were what you have
described him, think you, girl, he could find no briefer means than
wedding contracts to gain his ends? 'twas but to gripe your slender neck
until the breath had stopped, and lands, and lakes, and all were his.'
I stood staring at him for many minutes after he had ceased to speak,
fascinated by the terrible serpent-like gaze, until he continued with a
welcome change of countenance:
'I will not speak again to you upon this--topic until one month has
passed. You shall have time to consider the relative advantages of the
two courses which are open to you. I should be sorry to hurry you to
a decision. I am satisfied with having stated my feelings upon the
subject, and pointed out to you the path of duty. Remember this day
month--not one word sooner.'
He then rose, and I left the room, much agitated and exhausted.
This interview, all the circumstances attending it, but most
particularly the formidable expression of my uncle's countenance while
he talked, though hypothetically, of murder, combined to arouse all my
worst suspicions of him. I dreaded to look upon the face that had so
recently worn the appalling livery of guilt and malignity. I regarded it
with the mingled fear and loathing with which one looks upon an object
which has tortured them in a nightmare.
In a few days after the interview, the particulars of which I have just
related, I found a note upon my toilet-table, and on opening it I read
as follows:
'MY DEAR LADY MARGARET,
'You will be perhaps surprised to
see a strange face in your room to-day. I have dismissed your Irish
maid, and secured a French one to wait upon you--a step rendered
necessary by my proposing shortly to visit the Continent, with all my
family.
'Your faithful guardian,
'ARTHUR T----N.'
On inquiry, I found that my faithful attendant was actually gone, and
far on her way to the town of Galway; and in her stead there appeared
a tall, raw-boned, ill-looking, elderly Frenchwoman, whose sullen and
presuming manners seemed to imply that her vocation had never before
been that of a lady's-maid. I could not help regarding her as a creature
of my uncle's, and therefore to be dreaded, even had she been in no
other way suspicious.
Days and weeks passed away without any, even a momentary doubt upon my
part, as to the course to be pursued by me. The allotted period had
at length elapsed; the day arrived on which I was to communicate my
decision to my uncle. Although my resolution had never for a moment
wavered, I could not shake of the dread of the approaching colloquy; and
my heart sunk within me as I heard the expected summons.
I had not seen my cousin Edward since the occurrence of the grand
eclaircissment; he must have studiously avoided me--I suppose from
policy, it could not have been from delicacy. I was prepared for a
terrific burst of fury from my uncle, as soon as I should make known my
determination; and I not unreasonably feared that some act of violence
or of intimidation would next be resorted to.
Filled with these dreary forebodings, I fearfully opened the study door,
and the next minute I stood in my uncle's presence. He received me
with a politeness which I dreaded, as arguing a favourable anticipation
respecting the answer which I was to give; and after some slight delay,
he began by saying:
'It will be a relief to both of us, I believe, to bring this
conversation as soon as possible to an issue. You will excuse me,
then, my dear niece, for speaking with an abruptness which, under other
circumstances, would be unpardonable. You have, I am certain, given
the subject of our last interview fair and serious consideration; and I
trust that you are now prepared with candour to lay your answer before
me. A few words will suffice--we perfectly understand one another.'
He paused, and I, though feeling that I stood upon a mine which might in
an instant explode, nevertheless answered with perfect composure:
'I must now, sir, make the same reply which I did upon the last
occasion, and I reiterate the declaration which I then made, that I
never can nor will, while life and reason remain, consent to a union
with my cousin Edward.'
This announcement wrought no apparent change in Sir Arthur, except that
he became deadly, almost lividly pale. He seemed lost in dark thought
for a minute, and then with a slight effort said:
'You have answered me honestly and directly; and you say your resolution
is unchangeable. Well, would it had been otherwise--would it had been
otherwise--but be it as it is--I am satisfied.'
He gave me his hand--it was cold and damp as death; under an assumed
calmness, it was evident that he was fearfully agitated. He continued
to hold my hand with an almost painful pressure, while, as if
unconsciously, seeming to forget my presence, he muttered:
'Strange, strange, strange, indeed! fatuity, helpless fatuity!' there
was here a long pause. 'Madness INDEED to strain a cable that is rotten
to the very heart--it must break--and then--all goes.'
There was again a pause of some minutes, after which, suddenly changing
his voice and manner to one of wakeful alacrity, he exclaimed:
'Margaret, my son Edward shall plague you no more. He leaves this
country on to-morrow for France--he shall speak no more upon this
subject--never, never more--whatever events depended upon your answer
must now take their own course; but, as for this fruitless proposal, it
has been tried enough; it can be repeated no more.'
At these words he coldly suffered my hand to drop, as if to express
his total abandonment of all his projected schemes of alliance; and
certainly the action, with the accompanying words, produced upon my mind
a more solemn and depressing effect than I believed possible to have
been caused by the course which I had determined to pursue; it struck
upon my heart with an awe and heaviness which WILL accompany the
accomplishment of an important and irrevocable act, even though no doubt
or scruple remains to make it possible that the agent should wish it
undone.
'Well,' said my uncle, after a little time, 'we now cease to speak upon
this topic, never to resume it again. Remember you shall have no farther
uneasiness from Edward; he leaves Ireland for France on to-morrow; this
will be a relief to you. May I depend upon your HONOUR that no word
touching the subject of this interview shall ever escape you?'
I gave him the desired assurance; he said:
'It is well--I am satisfied--we have nothing more, I believe, to say
upon either side, and my presence must be a restraint upon you, I shall
therefore bid you farewell.'
I then left the apartment, scarcely knowing what to think of the strange
interview which had just taken place.
On the next day my uncle took occasion to tell me that Edward had
actually sailed, if his intention had not been interfered with by
adverse circumstances; and two days subsequently he actually produced a
letter from his son, written, as it said, ON BOARD, and despatched while
the ship was getting under weigh. This was a great satisfaction to me,
and as being likely to prove so, it was no doubt communicated to me by
Sir Arthur.
During all this trying period, I had found infinite consolation in the
society and sympathy of my dear cousin Emily. I never in after-life
formed a friendship so close, so fervent, and upon which, in all its
progress, I could look back with feelings of such unalloyed pleasure,
upon whose termination I must ever dwell with so deep, yet so
unembittered regret. In cheerful converse with her I soon recovered
my spirits considerably, and passed my time agreeably enough, although
still in the strictest seclusion.