_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_
_London, Dover Street_
It shall not be!--She shall not escape me thus!--I will not endure this
insufferable, this contemptible recantation of my wrongs! Fear is
beneath me, and what have I to hope? I have made misery certain! I have
paid the price of destruction, and will hug it to my heart! I know how
often I have prevaricated, and have loitered with revenge; but I have
not lost the flame: it burns still, and never shall expire!
The night at Brompton, though a night of storms and evil augury, was
heaven to the one I have just passed. Sleep and rest have forsaken me.
'Tis long since I closed my eyes; I know not indeed when; but last
night I did not attempt it. I traversed my room, opened my windows,
shut them again, listened to the discontented monotony of the watchman
without hearing him, thought over my never-forgotten injuries, my
vengeance, and all the desolation that is to follow, and having ended
began again!
There were shrieks and cries of murder in the street, about midnight;
and this was the only music by which I remember to have been roused.
But it was momentary. My reveries returned, and scenes of horror rose,
more swarming, dun, and ghastly!
My waking dreams are eternal--Well, so I would have them!
They prolong revenge!--I would have him by the throat for
ages!--Him!--Henley!--Would--grapple with him; would stab and be
stabbed; not in the fictions of a torturing fancy, but arm to arm,
steel to steel, poison to poison! Ay, did I not know he would refuse
my fair challenge, hero though he be and cased in innocence, I would
instantly fly to let him loose upon me, that I might turn and tear him!
Why that were delectable!--And can it not be?... Can no sufferings
move, no wrongs provoke, no taunts stir him to resentment? Is he God,
or is he man? To me he is demon, legion, and has possessed me wholly!
Liar that I am! How came I to forget the beauteous sorceress with whom
I found him leagued? I have heard them called angels of light; but I
have known them only fiends! They goad me with their virtues, mock at
my phrensy, defy my rage; and though surrounded by rape, destruction,
and despair, sleep and smile, while I wake and howl!
Injury and insult are busy with me! This sister of mine is in town at
Sir Arthur's. As she has made the journey I may expect a visit from her
soon: but she shall find no admission here. I want no more tormentors!
As I foreboded, she has just been, and has behaved in character. She
would take no denial from the valet; he was but an infant to the
Amazon; she would herself see if I were at home, and in she came. The
fellow does not want cunning, and he ran up stairs before her, and
called out aloud, purposely for me to hear--'You may see, madam, if you
please; the door is locked, and my master has taken the key with him.'
He knew I was determined not to see her, and while he designedly made
all the clatter he could, and placed himself before the entrance, I
took the means he had devised. She came, turned him aside, examined the
door, pushed violently against it, and I believe would willingly have
broken it open; but finding her good intentions, I set my shoulder to
the panel, taking care not to impede the light through the keyhole,
which my valet tells me was inspected by her. She ruminated a few
seconds and then went away; incredulous and high in indignation.
Well!--I sought for warfare, and it has found me. My former encounters
it seems were but the skirmishes of a partisan: this is a deadly and
decisive battle!
It is now five o'clock, and I have had a stirring morning. So much the
better; action is relief. A message came to me from Lord Fitz-Allen,
desiring to speak with me. I had an inclination not to have gone; but
reflecting further I determined to obey his summons.
However, when I sent up my name, I desired to know if my sister were
there; and was answered in the negative. I then made my bow to his
lordship, taking care to inform him that my sister behaved with great
impropriety, and that I was resolved not to see her, lest I too should
forget that respect due to my family and myself which she had violated.
The peer began with circumlocutory hints concerning the elopement--'An
unaccountable affair!--No tidings had yet arrived!--Surmises
and rumours of a very strange and dishonourable nature were
whispered!--Mischief, rape, nay even murder were dreaded!'
I refused to interpret any of these insinuations as applicable to
myself. At last his lordship, after many efforts, said he had a favour
to beg of me, which he hoped I should not think unreasonable. I desired
him to inform me what this favour was; and put some firmness in my
manner, that his lordship might see I was not in a temper to suffer an
insult.
He answered, for his own part, he had no doubts: he knew my family, and
had always affirmed I could not act unworthy of the gentleman. But, for
the peace of mind of Sir Arthur and the other relations of the young
lady, he would esteem it an obligation done to him, if I would declare,
upon my honour, that I knew nothing of her elopement; of the place she
has been conveyed to, or where she is at present.
I then retorted upon his lordship, that the preface to this request
entirely precluded compliance; that those who whispered and spread
surmises, and rumours, must be answerable for the consequences of their
own officiousness; and that with respect to myself, I should certainly,
under such circumstances, refuse to answer to interrogatories.
My tone was not very conciliatory, and his lordship knew not whether to
be angry or pleased. But while he was pondering I thought proper to
make my exit; and leave him to settle the contest between his pride and
his puerility as well as he was able.
At my return I found a letter from my sister, which I will neither
answer nor open. I have my fill of fury, and want no more!
Damnation on their insolence! They have been making application to the
office at Bow-Street! A request has just been sent me, a very soft and
civil one it is true, from the sitting magistrate, that I would do him
the honour to come and speak a word with him, on an affair that
concerned a very great and respectable family. I returned for answer
that I was engaged, and that I should notice no such messages: but that
if any man, great or small, had to complain of me, the law understood
its duty, and that I should be readily found at all times.
Whether this be the motion of my superb and zealous sister, or of the
arrogant peer, is more than I can divine. But I shall know some day,
and shall then perhaps strike a balance.
I have no doubt that emissaries and scouts are abroad, and that I am
watched. I was this evening to have met Mac Fane at the Shakespeare;
but I will not go. Yet as it is pay night, the hungry scoundrel must
not be disappointed. I will therefore write a note to him, and invite
him to come and sup with me. He will be an agreeable companion! But
even his company is better, at this moment, than solitude.
I will not let my servant carry the note directly to him; for if they
have their spies in the field, that might be dangerous. He shall take
it to the Mount coffee-house, and there get a chairman to convey it
in safety. I will tell Mac Fane likewise to come through the shop
door; for I am only in lodgings; and to step immediately out of a
hackney-coach. I laugh at their counterplots, and wish I had nothing
more to disturb me than the fear of being detected by any exertion of
their cunning, even though my kind sister be appointed their commander
in chief.