Buy Frank had arrived in Curzon Street, leaped from the cabriolet,
knocked at the door, which was opened by a strange-looking man in a buff
waistcoat and corduroy smalls. Frank gave a glance at this personage,
pushed him aside, and rushed upstairs. He burst into the drawing-room,--
no Beatrice was there. A thin elderly man, with a manuscript book in his
hands, appeared engaged in examining the furniture, and making an
inventory, with the aid of Madame di Negra's upper servant. The thin man
stared at Frank, and touched the hat which was on his head. The servant,
who was a foreigner, approached Frank, and said, in broken English, that
his lady did not receive,--that she was unwell, and kept her room. Frank
thrust a sovereign into the servant's hand, and begged him to tell Madame
di Negra. that Mr. Hazeldean entreated the honour of an interview. As
soon as the servant vanished on this errand, Frank seized the thin man by
the arm. "What is this?---an execution?"
"Yes, sir."
"For what sum?"
"Fifteen hundred and forty-seven pounds. We are the first in
possession."
"There are others, then?"
"Or else, sir, we should never have taken this step. Most painful to our
feelings, sir; but these foreigners are here to day, and gone to-morrow.
And--"
The servant re-entered. Madame di Negra would see Mr. Hazeldean. Would
he walk upstairs? Frank hastened to obey this summons.
Madame di Negra was in a small room which was fitted up as a boudoir.
Her eyes showed the traces of recent tears, but her face was composed,
and even rigid, in its haughty though mournful expression. Frank,
however, did not pause to notice her countenance, to hear her dignified
salutation. All his timidity was gone. He saw but the woman whom he
loved in distress and humiliation. As the door closed on him, he flung
himself at her feet. He caught at her hand, the skirt of her robe.
"Oh, Madame di Negra!--Beatrice!" he exclaimed, tears in his eyes, and
his voice half-broken by generous emotion; "forgive me, forgive me!
don't see in me a mere acquaintance. By accident I learned, or, rather,
guessed--this--this strange insult to which you are so unworthily
exposed. I am here. Think of me--but as a friend,--the truest friend.
Oh, Beatrice,"--and he bent his head over the hand he held,--" I never
dared say so before, it seems presuming to say it now, but I cannot help
it. I love you,--I love you with my whole heart and soul; to serve you--
if only but to serve you!--I ask nothing else." And a sob went from his
warm, young, foolish heart.
The Italian was deeply moved. Nor was her nature that of the mere sordid
adventuress. So much love and so much confidence! She was not prepared
to betray the one, and entrap the other.
"Rise, rise," she said softly; "I thank you gratefully. But do not
suppose that I--"
"Hush! hush!--you must not refuse me. Hush! don't let your pride
speak."
"No, it is not my pride. You exaggerate what is occurring here. You
forget that I have a brother. I have sent for him. He is the only one I
can apply to. Ah, that is his knock! But I shall never, never forget
that I have found one generous noble heart in this hollow world."
Frank would have replied, but he heard the count's voice on the stairs,
and had only time to rise and withdraw to the window, trying hard to
repress his agitation and compose his countenance. Count di Peschiera
entered,--entered as a very personation of the beauty and magnificence of
careless, luxurious, pampered, egotistical wealth,--his surtout, trimmed
with the costliest sables, flung back from his splendid chest. Amidst
the folds of the glossy satin that enveloped his throat gleamed a
turquoise, of such value as a jeweller might have kept for fifty years
before he could find a customer rich and frivolous enough to buy it. The
very head of his cane was a masterpiece of art, and the man himself, so
elegant despite his strength, and so fresh despite his years!--it is
astonishing how well men wear when they think of no one but themselves!
"Pr-rr!" said the count, not observing Frank behind the draperies of the
window; "Pr-rr--It seems to me that you must have passed a very
unpleasant quarter of an hour. And now--/Dieu me damne, quoi faire/!"
Beatrice pointed to the window, and felt as if she could have sunk into
the earth for shame. But as the count spoke in French, and Frank did not
very readily comprehend that language, the words escaped him, though his
ear was shocked by a certain satirical levity of tone.
Frank came forward. The count held out his hand, and with a rapid change
of voice and manner, said, "One whom my sister admits at such a moment
must be a friend to me."
"Mr. Hazeldean," said Beatrice, with meaning, "would indeed have nobly
pressed on me the offer of an aid which I need no more, since you, my
brother, are here."
"Certainly," said the count, with his superb air of grand seigneur; "I
will go down and clear your house of this impertinent canaille. But I
thought your affairs were with Baron Levy. He should be here."
"I expect him every moment. Adieu! Mr. Hazeldean." Beatrice extended
her hand to her young lover with a frankness which was not without a
certain pathetic and cordial dignity. Restrained from further words by
the count's presence, Frank bowed over the fair hand in silence, and
retired. He was on the stairs when he was joined by Peschiera.
"Mr. Hazeldean," said the latter, in a low tone, "will you come into the
drawing-room?"
Frank obeyed. The man employed in his examination of the furniture was
still at his task: but at a short whisper from the count he withdrew.
"My dear sir," said Peschiera, "I am so unacquainted with your English
laws, and your mode of settling embarrassments of this degrading nature,
and you have evidently showed so kind a sympathy in my sister's distress,
that I venture to ask you to stay here, and aid me in consulting with
Baron Levy."
Frank was just expressing his unfeigned pleasure to be of the slightest
use, when Levy's knock resounded at the streetdoor, and in another moment
the baron entered.
"Ouf!" said Levy, wiping his brows, and sinking into a chair as if he had
been engaged in toils the most exhausting,--"ouf! this is a very sad
business,--very; and nothing, my dear count, nothing but ready money can
save us here."
"You know my affairs, Levy," replied Peschiera, mournfully shaking his
head, "and that though in a few months, or it may be weeks, I could
discharge with ease my sister's debts, whatever their amount, yet at this
moment, and in a strange land, I have not the power to do so. The money
I brought with me is nearly exhausted. Can you not advance the requisite
sum?"
"Impossible!--Mr. Hazeldean is aware of the distress under which I labour
myself."
"In that case," said the count, "all we can do to-day is to remove my
sister, and let the execution proceed. Meanwhile I will go among my
friends, and see what I can borrow from them."
"Alas!" said Levy, rising and looking out of the window--"alas!--we
cannot remove the marchesa,--the worst is to come. Look!--you see those
three men; they have a writ against her person: the moment she sets her
foot out of these doors she will be arrested."
[At that date the law of /mesne process/ existed still.]
"Arrested!" exclaimed Peschiera and Frank in a breath. "I have done my
best to prevent this disgrace, but in vain," said the baron, looking very
wretched. "You see these English tradespeople fancy they have no hold
upon foreigners. But we can get bail; she must not go to prison--"
"Prison!" echoed Frank. He hastened to Levy and drew him aside. The
count seemed paralyzed by shame and grief. Throwing himself back on the
sofa, he covered his face with his hands.
"My sister!" groaned the count--"daughter to a Peschiera, widow to a Di
Negra!" There was something affecting in the proud woe of this grand
patrician.
"What is the sum?" whispered Frank, anxious that the poor count should
not overhear him; and indeed the count seemed too stunned and overwhelmed
to hear anything less loud than a clap of thunder!
"We may settle all liabilities for L5,000. Nothing to Peschiera, who is
enormously rich. /Entre nous/, I doubt his assurance that he is without
ready money. It may be so, but--"
"Five thousand pounds! How can I raise such a sum?"
"You, my dear Hazeldean? What are you talking about? To be sure you
could raise twice as much with a stroke of your pen, and throw your own
debts into the bargain. But--to be so generous to an acquaintance!"
"Acquaintance!--Madame di Negra! the height of my ambition is to claim
her as my wife!"
"And these debts don't startle you?"
"If a man loves," answered Frank, simply, "he feels it most when the
woman he loves is in affliction. And," he added, after a pause, "though
these debts are faults, kindness at this moment may give me the power to
cure forever both her faults and my own. I can raise this money by a
stroke of the pen! How?"
"On the Casino property."
Frank drew back.
"No other way?"
"Of course not. But I know your scruples; let us see if they can be
conciliated. You would marry Madame di Negra; she will have L20,000 on
her wedding-day. Why not arrange that, out of this sum, your
anticipative charge on the Casino property be paid at once? Thus, in
truth, it will be but for a few weeks that the charge will exist. The
bond will remain locked in my desk; it can never come to your father's
know ledge, nor wound his feelings. And when you marry (if you will but
be prudent in the mean while), you will not owe a debt in the world."
Here the count suddenly started up.
"Mr. Hazeldean, I asked you to stay and aid us by your counsel; I see now
that counsel is unavailing. This blow on our House must fall! I thank
you, Sir,--I thank you. Farewell. Levy, come with me to my poor sister,
and prepare her for the worst."
"Count," said Frank, "hear me. My acquaintance with you is but slight,
but I have long known and--and esteemed your sister. Baron Levy has
suggested a mode in which I can have the honour and the happiness of
removing this temporary but painful embarrassment. I can advance the
money."
"No, no!" exclaimed Peschiera. "How can you suppose that I will hear of
such a proposition? Your youth and benevolence mislead and blind you.
Impossible, sir,--impossible! Why, even if I had no pride, no delicacy
of my own, my sister's fair fame--"
"Would suffer indeed," interrupted Levy, "if she were under such
obligation to any one but her affianced husband. Nor, whatever my regard
for you, Count, could I suffer my client, Mr. Hazeldean, to make this
advance upon any less valid security than that of the fortune to which
Madame di Negra is entitled."
"Ha!--is this indeed so? You are a suitor for my sister's hand, Mr.
Hazeldean?"
"But not at this moment,--not to owe her hand to the compulsion of
gratitude," answered gentleman Frank. "Gratitude! And you do not know
her heart, then? Do not know--" the count interrupted himself, and went
on after a pause. "Mr. Hazeldean, I need not say that we rank among the
first Houses in Europe. My pride led me formerly into the error of
disposing of my sister's hand to one whom she did not love, merely
because in rank he was her equal. I will not again commit such an error,
nor would Beatrice again obey me if I sought to constrain her. Where she
marries, there she will love. If, indeed, she accepts you, as I believe
she will, it will be from affection solely. If she does, I cannot
scruple to accept this loan,--a loan from a brother-inlaw--loan to me,
and not charged against her fortune! That, sir," turning to Levy, with
his grand air, "you will take care to arrange. If she do not accept you,
Mr. Hazeldean, the loan, I repeat, is not to be thought of. Pardon me,
if I leave you. This, one way or other, must be decided at once." The
count inclined his head with much stateliness, and then quitted the room.
His step was heard ascending the stairs.
"If," said Levy, in the tone of a mere man of business--"if the count pay
the debts, and the lady's fortune be only charged with your own, after
all, it will not be a bad marriage in the world's eye, nor ought it to be
in a father's. Trust me, we shall get Mr. Hazeldean's consent, and
cheerfully too."
Frank did not listen; he could only listen to his love, to his heart
beating loud with hope and with fear.
Levy sat down before the table, and drew up a long list of figures in a
very neat hand,--a list of figures on two accounts, which the post-obit
on the Casino was destined to efface.
After a lapse of time, which to Frank seemed interminable, the count
re-appeared. He took Frank aside, with a gesture to Levy, who rose, and
retired into the drawing-room.
"My dear young friend," said Peschiera, "as I suspected, my sister's
heart is wholly yours. Stop; hear me out. But, unluckily, I informed
her of your generous proposal; it was most unguarded, most ill-judged in
me, and that has well-nigh spoiled all; she has so much pride and spirit;
so great a fear that you may think yourself betrayed into an imprudence
which you may hereafter regret, that I am sure she will tell you that she
does not love you, she cannot accept you, and so forth. Lovers like you
are not easily deceived. Don't go by her words; but you shall see her
yourself and judge. Come."
Followed mechanically by Frank, the count ascended the stairs, and threw
open the door of Beatrice's room. The marchesa's back was turned; but
Frank could see that she was weeping.
"I have brought my friend to plead for himself," said the count, in
French; "and take my advice, sister, and do not throw away all prospect
of real and solid happiness for a vain scruple. Heed me!" He retired,
and left Frank alone with Beatrice.
Then the marchesa, as if by a violent effort, so sudden was her movement,
and so wild her look, turned her face to her wooer, and came up to him,
where he stood.
"Oh," she said, clasping her hands, "is this true? You would save me
from disgrace, from a prison--and what can I give you in return? My
love! No, no. I will not deceive you. Young, fair, noble as you are,
I do not love you as you should be loved. Go; leave this house; you do
not know my brother. Go, go--while I have still strength, still virtue
enough to reject whatever may protect me from him! whatever--may---Oh,
go, go."
"You do not love me?" said Frank. "Well, I don't wonder at it; you are
so brilliant, so superior to me. I will abandon hope,--I will leave you,
as you command me. But at least I will not part with my privilege to
serve you. As for the rest, shame on me if I could be mean enough to
boast of love, and enforce a suit, at such a moment."
Frank turned his face and stole away softly. He did not arrest his steps
at the drawing-room; he went into the parlour, wrote a brief line to Levy
charging him quietly to dismiss the execution, and to come to Frank's
rooms with the necessary deeds; and, above all, to say nothing to the
count. Then he went out of the house and walked back to his lodgings.
That evening Levy came to him, and accounts were gone into, and papers
signed; and the next morning Madame di Negra was free from debt; and
there was a great claim on the reversion of the Casino estates; and at
the noon of that next day, Randal was closeted with Beatrice; and before
the night came a note from Madame di Negra, hurried, blurred with tears,
summoning Frank to Curzon Street. And when he entered the marchesa's
drawing-room, Peschiera was seated beside his sister; and rising at
Frank's entrance, said, "My dear brother-in-law!" and placed Frank's hand
in Beatrice's.
"You accept--you accept me--and of your own free will and choice?"
And Beatrice answered, "Bear with me a little, and I will try to repay
you with all my--all my--" She stopped short, and sobbed aloud.
"I never thought her capable of such acute feelings, such strong
attachment," whispered the count.
Frank heard, and his face was radiant. By degrees Madame di Negra
recovered composure, and she listened with what her young lover deemed a
tender interest, but what, in fact, was mournful and humbled resignation,
to his joyous talk of the future. To him the hours passed by, brief and
bright, like a flash of sunlight. And his dreams when he retired to rest
were so golden! But when he awoke the next morning, he said to himself,
"What--what will they say at the Hall?" At that same hour Beatrice,
burying her face on her pillow, turned from the loathsome day, and could
have prayed for death. At that same hour, Giulio Franzini, Count di
Peschiera, dismissing some gaunt, haggard Italians, with whom he had been
in close conference, sallied forth to reconnoitre the house that
contained Violante. At that same hour, Baron Levy was seated before his
desk, casting up a deadly array of figures, headed, "Account with the
Right Hon. Audley Egerton, M. P., Dr. and Cr."--title-deeds strewed
around him, and Frank Hazeldean's post-obit peeping out fresh from the
elder parchments. At that same hour, Audley Egerton had just concluded a
letter from the chairman of his committee in the city he represented,
which letter informed him that he had not a chance of being re-elected.
And the lines of his face were as composed is usual, and his foot rested
as firm on the grim iron box; but his hand was pressed to his heart, and
his eye was on the clock, and his voice muttered, "Dr. F--should be
here!" And that hour Harley L'Estrange, who the previous night had
charmed courtly crowds with his gay humour, was pacing to and fro the
room in his hotel with restless strides and many a heavy sigh; and
Leonard was standing by the fountain in his garden, and watching the
wintry sunbeams that sparkled athwart the spray; and Violante was leaning
on Helen's shoulder, and trying archly, yet innocently, to lead Helen to
talk of Leonard; and Helen was gazing steadfastly on the floor, and
answering but by monosyllables; and Randal Leslie was walking down to his
office for the last time, and reading, as he passed across the Green
Park, a letter from home, from his sister; and then, suddenly crumpling
the letter in his thin pale hand, he looked up, beheld in the distance
the spires of the great national Abbey; and recalling the words of our
hero Nelson, he muttered, "Victory and Westminster, but not the Abbey!"
And Randal Leslie felt that, within the last few days, he had made a vast
stride in his ambition,--his grasp on the old Leslie lands, Frank
Hazeldean betrothed, and possibly disinherited; and Dick Avenel, in the
background, opening against the hated Lansmere interest that same seat in
parliament which had first welcomed into public life Randal's ruined
patron.
"But some must laugh, and some must weep;
Thus runs the world away!"