The night before the one appointed for my flight with Achille, I sat
down and wrote two letters home--one the usual weekly affair, the other
a tear-bedewed prayer for pardon. In it I detailed the full particulars
of the step which I had taken, pointing out at the same time the
uselessness of attempting pursuit; for long before I could be discovered
I should be the wife of the man who possessed my heart, truly and
thoroughly. Yes; that letter was tear-bedewed, and there was something
very mournful in writing home upon such an occasion. But the die was
cast, and I felt quite relieved when I had placed both letters in their
envelopes; and then, leaving one for enclosure in the letter-bag of the
house, I secured the other in my bosom, and soon after retired to rest.
Yes, I retired to rest, but not to sleep, and rose the next morning pale
and dejected; while how I went through my lessons that day I cannot
think now. However, to keep suspicion entirely at a distance, when
Achille came we took not the slightest notice of one another; and, so
that there should be no miscarriage of our undertaking, not so much as a
single line passed from one to the other. But just as he was going I
gave him one look, to show him that I was worthy of his trust, and, come
what would, I should keep my word.
The time had already been fixed for twelve, so that with a carriage in
waiting we could be driven across the country, twelve miles to the
neighbouring town, where the main line of railway passed--ours at
Allsham being but a branch. There we could catch the night mail as it
whirled through--or rather, as it stopped; and then, conveyed to London,
we could leave by an early train the same morning for Scotland. All
this had been fixed by Achille, and conveyed to me in a note at his last
lesson. And how deliciously romantic it all seemed, and how elated I
felt, in spite of my trepidation! Away to Scotland, to be his--his own.
And then, perhaps in sunny France, live a life like some golden dream,
from which we could look back to the days of slavery at the Cedars. Oh,
it was too much!--the thoughts of it even made me tremble; and as I lay
pretending to be asleep that night, I thought my heart would have burst
with its emotions, as it beat and bounded trying to be free.
Is it always so, that people will talk and do the very opposite to that
which you wish? Upon other nights, when I wished for half an hour's
chat with Clara or Effie, they would be too sleepy to talk; but this
night they seemed to be horribly wakeful, while the noises in the house
went on as if they would never be still. I had been in quite a flutter
for some time, owing to my having somehow mislaid the last note Achille
had sent me. Where it could be I knew not, unless it had slipped down
through my clothes; but that I looked at as impossible, and I lay hoping
that it was still somewhere in my things. Every other letter, after ten
readings, I had carefully destroyed; but this one I dared not burn, for
fear that it should contain instructions that I might forget. Even
though I had carefully learned it by heart, I still fancied that I might
again wish to refer to it. The very thought of its being found put me
in a cold perspiration; but things all grew so quiet at last, that my
courage revived, and feeling now so thoroughly embarked in the
undertaking, I summoned all my strength of mind and waited.
Twelve o'clock, and not a sound to be heard--not even the baying of the
dog, which, in the excitement of the preparations, I had forgotten; and
now it seemed that he would be the only stumbling-block in my way. But
I was prepared to meet every danger; and slipping out of bed, I crept
out of the room to the empty place at the end of the passage, where I
had conveyed what few things I should require, for, of course, I had not
undressed. And now--bonneted, shawled, and gloved, and with my reticule
bag in my hand--I stood listening with beating pulses to the faint
sounds yet to be heard in the house. Now it was the ticking of the
clock, now the chirping of the crickets in the kitchen; while above all,
heavily and loudly, came the beating of the rain upon the skylight,
telling of how bitter a night it was, and I shuddered as I thought of
poor Achille standing in the wet.
Our plans had been well made; and, screwing up my courage, I stepped
along the passage, down to the first floor, and reached the large
staircase window in safety, slided it up, and, to my intense joy, there
was poor, wet Achille standing at the top of a strong step-ladder, ready
to assist me down.
"Enfin, mon ange," he whispered, as I climbed tremblingly upon the sill
as quickly as possible; for I had heard words spoken at the foot of the
stairs, and I knew directly what they meant, as dining-room and
drawing-room doors were thrown open, and lights streamed out. Yes, I
knew what Clara afterwards told me was the case--Miss Furness had picked
up the note, and they were all collected in the hall and passage, ready
to capture me when I descended, little thinking that the window
mentioned meant that upon the first floor.
"Now dis foot--now dat," he hissed through his teeth; and, somehow, I
don't know in what way, he guided me down the ladder, to which I clung
tightly, wet as it was; and, as lights and faces appeared at the open
window, Achille dragged the ladder down, and we were in full flight
across the lawn; where he supported me with one hand, and trailed the
ladder after us with the other.
"Dere goes de confound bell," cried Achille. "No, no," he whispered,
"not yet--don't faint, mon ange."
"But the dog? Where is the dog?" I exclaimed.
"Having one great pound of steaks and two mutton bones," he replied.
And then, with the murmur of voices behind, and the bell ringing loudly,
we hurried through the wet bushes to the wall, where he placed the
ladder, and this time nerving myself, I mounted it boldly, and before I
knew where I was I found myself helped down into a carriage drawn close
up at the side--that is to say, into the cart; for Achille had been so
unfortunate that he could not procure a post-chaise. There, with an
umbrella to protect me from the inclemency of the weather, I sat upon
the hard seat between Achille and the rough man who was the driver.
"That ere was the pleeceman as we passed," growled the latter, directly
after we had started.
"P'raps they shall want him at de house," replied Achille, laughing.
Away onward we tore, for fully an hour and a half, through the dark
night, and through the rain, which would keep coming, blown by the
gusts, right underneath the umbrella, in spite of all _he_ did to
protect me. And in spite of all my efforts and the tender words of
Achille--whispered to me in his own dear tongue--I could not keep from
shivering; for somehow all this did not seem so very nice, and romantic,
and pleasant.
Oh, that night! I shall never forget it, though it all seems whirled up
together in one strange, gloomy dream of rain, and darkness, and wind,
and cold, and a stumbling horse, and a rough, stably-smelling, wet
driver, smoking a strong pipe, and shouting to the horse to "Harm!" Of
wet straw, and Achille without a great coat, and the umbrella so blown
by the wind that it took two hands to hold it, and the points would go
into the driver's eye and make him swear.
Then there was poor Achille, wet and suffering from the cold and waiting
in the rain; and his hands so cramped with holding the umbrella; and the
dreary, miserable station fire so low that it would not warm him. And
after he had dismissed the man, he was too cold to get out his purse;
but fortunately I was able to pay for the two first-class tickets to
London. And then almost directly there was a vision of steam, and
lights, and noise, and the fast train dashed into the wet station, where
the rain kept flying from the wind, which seemed to hunt it along; and
then we were inside one of the dark blue cloth lined carriages, where I
could see by the dim light of the thick, scratchy, bubble lamp that
there were two gentlemen. I felt so ill, and cold, and shivery, I
should not have known how to keep up, if one them, seeing my wet state,
had not kindly passed a little flask of sherry to Achille, who made me
drink some.
How I trembled, and felt that they were looking me through and through;
and I felt sure that I had seen them both before, and that they knew me,
and would go straight off and tell papa; but fortunately they both
seemed sleepy, and curled up in their wrappers in the two corners, after
one of them had insisted upon lending us a great skin thing, which was
nice and warm and comfortable.
But they say that there are a great many hidden things in nature that
yet remain to be explained; and really this must be one of them, this
which I am now about to mention. Something would keep trying the whole
time to make me believe that all this was not very nice, and that I
would much rather have been back at the Cedars, snug in my own bed. It
was, of course, all nonsense--only a weak fancy prompted by my
disordered mind; but still it would keep coming back and back, in spite
of all Achille's whispers and tender words, till at last I really think
I had forgotten all about the "sunny South" in the miseries of the
present.
But I crushed all those thoughts at last, down, down into the dark
depths of oblivion; for I was allowing Achille to hold my cold hand in
his, as I tried to make out what the train kept saying, for as
distinctly as could be in the noise and rattle, and whirl and rush,
there were certain words seeming to be formed, and it sounded to me as
if those words were--"Blind, conceited, foolish girl!--blind, conceited
foolish girl!" over and over again, till I would not listen to them any
longer, as we sped on and on, nearer and nearer to great London.
I supposed that my note had been found, but I felt that it must have
been too late to do us any harm; for I knew that the telegraph clerk
left Allsham Station at eight o'clock, through Mrs Blunt once wanting
to send a message to one of the girls' parents when she was ill, and
they could not have it until the next morning, which was not so soon as
they could get a letter. So I felt quite at rest upon that score; while
now, thanks to the sherry and the skin rug, I began to get rid of the
miserable shivering that had made me feel so wretched.
Only to think of it!--on and on, towards London, where papa and mamma
were lying calmly asleep. The thoughts of them, and their peace, and
unconsciousness of what was happening, made me recall the letter I had
written, and draw it from its hiding-place to hand to Achille to see
that it was posted. But before I passed it over to him, I felt that I
could not send it as it was. I must insert one tender word, one more
kind sentence. So, taking out my pencil, I screwed up the point, and
then, with very little difficulty, raised the lappel of the envelope--
for really our gummed envelopes are so very insecure--while I knew that
we must stop at some hotel in London where I could obtain wax or a fresh
envelope. So I took out the note, and prepared to write upon the palm
of my hand; but seeing what I meant to do, Achille lent me his hat, upon
the crown for desk, I laid my note as, by the light of the dim lamp, I
began to trace in pencil a second--let me see; no, I remember it was a
fourth--loving, prayerful postscript.
Tiresome light! How terribly it began to dance about! I thought that
part of the line must be much out of repair, for the carriage wobbled
excessively. My eyes, too, were dim as the light, and I had to try
again and again to read the postscript which met my frightened gaze:
"Mrs Fortesquieu de Blount desires her best respects and compliments,
and--"
"Qu'est ce que c'est, mon ange?" murmured Achille, as I dropped the
fatal letter, and nearly swooned away; for--oh, how could I have been so
foolish!--I had marked the envelopes so as not to make any mistake, and
yet had put in the wrong letters, sending word home that I had eloped,
and giving them ample notice of my intentions.
I caught the letter up again, and tried to pass it off as nothing--only
a sudden pang, for I dare not tell Achille; but who can imagine my agony
as we sped on for the rest of our journey? For we could not converse,
on account of the other passengers, and my brain was in a whirl.
All at once the train began to slacken, and, in the comparative quiet, I
hoped and thought possible a dozen things: the letter might have
miscarried, or been sent wrong; it might have been lost; papa and mamma
might have been out--plenty of things might have happened in my favour;
and then we drew up at another dismal station, whose bleared lights we
could see through the rain spotted windows. Here the tickets were
collected, and I felt sure that the ticket collector looked suspiciously
at both Achille and me; while, as we waited, I could hear them clanking
in the milk tins into the great wild beast cage upon wheels that they
have upon the night trains of that and, I suppose, all railways. At
last, just as we were about to start, the door opened again, and a wet
man jumped in, and sat there staring at us all the rest of the way.
London at last, in the darkness and misery of the early morning! It was
of no use to try and keep them back, the tears would come, and even the
reassuring pressure of Achille's hand was of no avail to cheer me; for,
oh! it did look so very, very, very miserable in the dark, cheerless,
wet time, and I hardly knew how to stand.
"This way, sir," said a man who appeared to be one of the guards, for he
was dressed just like one. "Cab all ready, sir."
"Merci," replied Achille; and I clung to his arm as we followed the
civil guard under the long row of dismal hanging lamps, some alight and
some out, past the hissing engine, with its bright light, and warm,
ruddy, glowing fire; and at that moment I did so wish that I was a
happy, careless engine driver, warming myself in the cheery heat--
anything but what I then was; for I was dreadfully unhappy, and, I am
afraid, even a little disappointed that my fears had no suite, so
strange a contradiction is a woman's heart. However, on we went to
where another man was waiting by a cab, and as soon as we approached he
opened the door.
Weak, faint, and miserable, I hurried in, and leaned back trembling in a
corner, expecting Achille the next moment would be at my side; but, to
my horror, I saw a slight scuffle take place, and Achille dragged off.
The guard-like man jumped in, shut the door after him, and pulled up the
glass; while at the same moment the horrid wet cab jangled off, and the
creature lowered the front window and gave some instructions to the
driver.
"Oh, stop, stop!" I cried, in agony, as I jumped up. "There is some
mistake. Where is Monsieur Achille--the gentleman who was with me?"
"That clinches what didn't want no clinching, my dear," said the horrid
wretch, shouting at me, for the cab made so much noise--"that clinches
it, my dear. I hadn't a doubt before; and as to now, why, it's right as
right, and there's no mistake. Now sit down, my dear. I shan't hurt
you, so don't be frightened; and it's of no use for you to try and jump
out, because I don't mean to let you. There now, see what you've done--
you've broke the window! Not very surprising, though, for they always
makes cab windows of the thinnest glass they can get hold of for the
benefit of their fares. Make a handsome thing out of the profits, some
owners do, being mostly broken by noisy swells who can pay up. Helps
the shoeing bill, you know, my dear. Now, do sit still. What a
struggling little bird it is!"
I was horrified and mad; for the wretch had caught me in his arms as I
started from my seat and beat at the window till it fell shattered to
pieces; but in spite of my struggles he held me down upon the seat by
his side.
"It's all right, my dear Miss Laura Bozerne. And you needn't be in the
least bit afraid of me; for I'm an old married man, sent by some one you
know very well, working under the advice of my wife, and I'm to be
depended upon. So sit still, my little dove, you're saved out of the
hawk's claws this time."
What could I do but sink back with a hysterical sob, my mind in a state
of chaos? I really, I'm sure, did not know then whether I was pleased
or sorry, though I had felt it incumbent upon me to struggle a little at
first. I'm sure my brains were all anyhow, as I wondered who the man
was by my side, and where he was taking me. Had Achille betrayed me and
fled? Oh, no--impossible! Papa must have taken steps to stop us; and
this wretch by my side was, I felt sure, a detective.
Up and down street after street, all dark, dismal, and deserted, as I
could see when the wretch rubbed the steaming glass with his sleeve.
The lamps were all burning; and here and there we passed a policeman,
and, every time the light shone upon their wet capes, fresh tears gushed
from my eyes as I thought of Achille and his probable fate. Then, too,
I thought again of where they were bearing me. Was I to be imprisoned--
taken before a magistrate? Oh, it was horrible! and the long, jangling
ride seemed as though it would never end.
"Now, that's what I call sensible, my dear," said the wretch, all at
once--shouting so that I'm sure the driver could almost have heard.
"Some people, you see, never do know when they're took, but keep on
fighting agen it when there's no more chance of getting away than
flying. That's right, take it coolly, and a good cry will do you no end
of good, I dare say."
Then, finding me quiet and resigned, my captor appeared to take but
little more notice of me, only turning his head my way from time to time
as we passed a lamp. I would have given anything to have known where we
were going; but, of course, under the circumstances, I could not summon
courage enough to ask; but at last I seemed to recognise places that we
passed, first one and then another becoming familiar, till it seemed
almost like returning home from a ball. And--yes--no--yes--no--yes, it
was our own house before which we had driven up, and the driver was
ringing furiously at the bell!
Oh, yes, it was all plain enough now. I had been entrapped and brought
home, and I knew that I had betrayed myself by my own folly.
"Oh, Achille, Achille!" I murmured.
"He's all right, miss, I dare say," said my captor, who certainly
possessed a preternatural sharpness of hearing; "and I should think that
we had better sit here in the dry till the door opens, though I dare say
that won't be long, for they expex us."
And he was right; for, with swimming eyes, I saw the flash of light,
while I could not help blessing the darkness of the cold, winterly morn,
which hid me from the gaze of the vulgar. The people on either side
were doubtless asleep, and there was no one visible but a policeman, who
helped to carry me over the wet pavement into the hall, where, trembling
and dizzy, I stood for a moment before papa in his dressing-gown, and
then really and truly I fainted dead away.