and myself together at singular times and places, and made me an actor
in his history whether I would or not. Since his first letter to me, I
had heard from him but once; _of_ him, alas! I had heard too much. He
was in the height of his giddy career, when I passed through London
for the first time since his marriage, and resolved to pay him a
visit. I arrived late in the evening, and I had but a few hours at my
command, for early in the morning I was to start for France by the
Calais packet. When I reached my hotel, I sent my card to the
residence of my friend, who instantly invited me to his too hospitable
roof. There was a gay and brilliant assembly in his house that
evening, and, as usual, Elinor outshone the multitude in beauty and
animation. She received me cordially, and kindly held out her
snow-white hand at my approach, and greeted me with a smile of
fascination that robbed me of whatever displeasure I had brought with
me on account of her proceedings. How could I reproach Sinclair for
submitting to the spell that governed him, when it was impossible for
me--a stranger, and one certainly not prepossessed in her favor--to
resist it?
Sinclair was much altered in appearance. He looked jaded and unhappy.
There was nothing in his countenance harmonizing with the scene around
him. He seldom spoke, and to all my questions he returned evasive
answers, seeking rather to direct his discourse to matters in which
neither of us found a personal interest, than to his own affairs,
which at the time had far more interest for me than my own.
"I am glad you are here to-night, Wilson," said Rupert, as we sat
together. "To-morrow I leave town for a few days, and we should not
have met had you arrived a day later."
"I am off to France myself to-night for a week or more, and----"
As I spoke, I saw the colour in Sinclair's cheek rapidly changing. He
was evidently surprised and chagrined by the intelligence.
"Can I serve you," said I at once, taking advantage of my opportunity,
"by remaining in town?"
"No, no, I thank you. What route do you take?"
"By packet to Calais, and from Calais to Paris by the formidable
diligence. Can I help you at the seat of politeness and art?"
"No, I thank you," replied Sinclair, changing colour again. "You are
aware that my father is in Paris?"
"So I have heard. It is said that his lordship"----
"Do not speak of it," he said, mildly interrupting me. "Whatever may
happen to me, I cannot but think that the blame must rest ultimately
there."
"Do you fear evil, then?" I eagerly inquired.
Mr Crawly came up at this moment, with his lady upon his arm, and
Crawly, junior, lounging in his immediate rear. The latter was an
Adonis in his way--got up with a perfect contempt of expense and all
propriety. Crawly beckoned to Sinclair, who at once quitted my side
and walked over to him, whilst I was left in possession of Mrs Crawly
and the hopeful. I escaped as soon as I could, and seeing no more of
Sinclair, took my departure at a comparatively early hour.
Three nights after this, I was roused from sleep in my bed at the
Hotel Louis Seize, (a comfortable hotel in those days, bordering on
the marketplace in Calais,) by a murmuring sound which at first I
believed to be nothing more than a portion of an unsatisfactory dream
in which I had once again found myself with Rupert and his lady in
London. Satisfying myself that the dream and the sound were distinct,
I was already again midway between the lands of life and death, when
the tones of a voice roused me almost like a cannon-shot from my
couch, and caused me seriously to inquire whether I was sleeping or
waking, dreaming or acting. I could have sworn that the voice I had
heard belonged to Rupert Sinclair. I jumped from my bed, and struck a
light. It was twelve o'clock by my watch. For a few seconds all was as
silent as the grave; then I heard most distinctly a step along the
passage, into which my bed-room conducted--the sound of a door
opening, closing, and immediately a heavy tread in the adjoining room.
Two chairs were then drawn close to a table; upon the latter a
rough-voiced man knocked with his fist, and exclaimed at the same
moment--
"There are the papers, then!"
Surely I had heard that voice before. To whom could it belong? Whilst
I still puzzled my brains to remember, another voice replied. It was
impossible to mistake _that_. Most assuredly it was Rupert Sinclair's.
"I see them!" it said; every syllable bringing fresh perspiration on
my brow.
How came he here? what was his business? and with whom? A thin
partition merely divided my bed-room from that in which the speakers
were. Had I been inclined to close my ears against their words, it
would have been difficult. Anxious, and even eager, to obtain
knowledge of the movements of my friend, I made no scruple of
listening most attentively to every word. Who knew but he was in the
hands of sharpers, and might I not have been providentially sent to
his rescue? At all events I listened, and not a syllable did I suffer
to escape me.
"I know, my dear young friend," began the rougher voice--whose but
General Travis's?--"that you are anxious to do what is best for us
all. Your interest, you know, is my daughter's, and my daughter's is,
of course, mine. We are all in one boat."
"Yes, undoubtedly," said Rupert.
"These debts are very large," continued the general.
"Yes," replied Sinclair; "and some of them must be discharged
forthwith. Crawly is impatient and angry, and accuses me of having
used him ill."
"Crawly is a villain," said the general hurriedly; "he has made a
fortune out of you, and now wishes to back out. The interest alone
that he has exacted has been enough to ruin you."
"Your messenger, you say, failed to see my father?"
"Yes. His lordship closed his doors upon him, and took no notice of
his letter, in which he asked that some amicable arrangement might be
made with respect to the property that must evidently come to you."
There succeeded to this a few sentences in an under tone from either
party, which I could not make out.
"Then what is to be done?" murmured Sinclair again in a tone of
entreaty.
"Don't be advised by me, my friend," said the general in a subdued
voice, which I strained my ears to catch; "God forbid that you should
reproach me hereafter for advice which I tender solely with a view to
your peace of mind and comfort. Heaven knows you have had little peace
of late!"
Rupert sighed heavily.
"I have for the last week been turning the matter over and over
seriously. As I said before, I can have no object but your well-doing,
and--naturally--my child's--my child's, Sinclair--your loving, and I
know, beloved wife."
"I believe it," said Rupert.
"Is any one aware of your visit here?"
"Not a creature."
"Crawly?"
"Was with me the very night I started, but he does not suspect. He
believes that I am now in England."
"Now, my dear friend, I don't think I ought to say what"--
As ill luck would have it, I coughed. The general ceased upon the
instant, and opened his door hastily. I blew out my light, and held my
breath.
"What was that?" asked the general in a whisper.
Both listened for a few seconds, and then the general proceeded, still
whispering.
"There was a man in London whom I found in my reverses faithful and
considerate; an honest man in a world of dishonesty and knavery. He is
well to do in life, and he has visited me here. Nay, he is here
now--has been here some days; is in this very hotel."
"What of him?" asked Rupert.
"We are as brothers, and I have entrusted him with the history of your
affairs. He is willing to assist and relieve you; and he can do it,
for he has a mint of money."
"I must borrow no more, sir," eagerly interposed Sinclair. "My
liabilities are even now greater than I can bear. My income will not
pay the interest of the money that has been advanced."
"And therefore comes my friend in the very nick of time to save you. I
agree with you that it would be ridiculous to think of further loans.
Your only plan now is to sell out and out. This you may do
advantageously, relieve yourself of every incumbrance, and retain
sufficient for the future, if you will be but moderately careful, and
invest your capital with caution."
"How do you mean?" inquired my friend.
The general whispered lower than ever, as though ashamed that even the
bare walls should witness his heartless proposition. I gathered his
suggestion from the quick and anxious answer.
"What!" exclaimed Sinclair, "sell my inheritance, part with my
birth-right?"
"No! neither sell nor part with it--but forestall and enjoy it."
I heard no more. There came a gentle knock at the door of the room in
which Rupert and his father-in-law were speaking; the door softly
opened, and another visitor arrived. Sinclair's name was mentioned by
way of introduction; then the stranger's, which escaped me; and
shortly afterwards the whole party quitted the apartment, as it
seemed, maintaining a dead silence--for, listen as eagerly as I would,
not a syllable could I gather. Repose was impossible that night. After
keeping my position for about half an hour, I hastily dressed, and
sallied forth in quest of information. I descended, and inquired of
the first servant whom I could summon, the names of the English
gentlemen who were then staying in the house. My answer was very
unsatisfactory.
"There was Milor Anglais," said the man who was the great referee of
the house in all matters pertaining to the English tongue, "friend of
Mons. le General; the gentleman as come to-morrow; Monsieur Jones who
vos arrive yesterday; Monsieur Smith, his ami, and Monsieur Sir John
Alderman, Esquire, vith his madame and petite famille. There vos none
more."
With this imperfect information, I returned to my couch, not to sleep,
but to form some plan that would save my unhappy friend from the fangs
of the sharks who were about to sacrifice him to their rapacity. He
stood upon the very verge of destruction. There could be no doubt of
it. How to get sight of him--how to warn him of his danger--how to
help him out of the difficulties into which extravagance and
wickedness had brought him? These were some of the questions that
crowded upon my disturbed mind during the whole of the anxious
night--questions that easily came--were less easily dismissed, and
still less easily answered with comfort to myself, or with prospect of
salvation to my friend.
The first individual I saw, upon leaving my apartment on the following
morning, was General Travis himself. He was walking hastily
down-stairs, evidently about to quit the hotel. I called his name. He
started more like the thief "who fears each bush an officer," than the
traveller "who fears each bush a thief," and turned his restless eye
upon me. At first he pretended not to know me--then he bowed, and
continued his way.
"One moment, general," said I, stopping him. "I have a word to say to
you."
"I am somewhat pressed for time this morning--but a moment is easily
spared," replied the general very collectedly. He followed me
up-stairs, and entered my room. I closed the door.
"You have seen my friend lately?" I asked in nervous haste.
"Your friend?" rejoined General Travis. "To whom have I the honour to
speak?"
His effrontery was amusing. I looked at him hard--but his countenance
in no way betrayed him.
"My name is Wilson," said I; "that of my friend, Rupert Sinclair."
"O--h! I remember!" exclaimed the cunning master, with all the
affectation of extreme surprise. "And how did you leave Sinclair--gay,
giddy, and happy as ever?"
I gazed upon the man with a view to shame him into blushing. I was
grievously disappointed. He returned me gaze for gaze, and looked
unconscious innocence itself. I resolved to bring our business to a
crisis without further parley.
"General Travis," I began, "I was last night, I will not say the
unwilling, but certainly the unintentional listener to the plan
propounded by you to my inexperienced friend, your son-in-law, of
whose presence in this town you seem so lamentably ignorant."
The general _did_ change colour now. He was about to speak, when I
stopped him.
"Hear me!" I continued aloud and sternly. "I know the man with whom I
have to deal. It is but fair that we should be on equal terms. I go
this day to London to denounce your conspiracy, and to prevent its
success. Your scheme for beggaring your children, and enriching
yourself, clever as it is, is killed in the bud. Attempt to carry it
out, and the law shall reach you even here."
"My dear Mr"----interposed the general.
"Let us have no argument," I proceeded in the same loud tone; "my
business is to prevent the havoc you would bring about, and rest
assured I will. Make no new attempts upon the credulity of your
victim, and you are safe. Take another step in the nefarious business,
and I solemnly vow to heaven that I will not leave you till I have
exacted a fearful penalty for your crime."
"You really, Mr Wilson, do"----stammered the general, with increasing
awkwardness at every word.
"Where is Mr Sinclair now?" I vehemently asked.
"Gone," replied the general.
"Whither?"
"To England."
"Satisfy me of the truth of this--give me your solemn promise to urge
him no more to the commission of an act which insures his ruin, and I
leave you. Refuse me, and I will expose your designs, and brand you to
the world as the unnatural and cruel destroyer I have found you."
The general manifestly believed me to be in possession of more than I
knew. He fairly quailed beneath my impetuosity and anger. I had
expected resistance and battle. I met with mean capitulation and fear.
He shuffled out apologies--entreated me to believe that he was
actuated only by the sincerest wishes for his children's
welfare--indeed, how could it be otherwise?--and assured me that
although he might have been mistaken in the plans he had formed for Mr
Sinclair's extrication, his motives were unquestioned, and as pure as
could be. Still I might see these things with different eyes, and a
better remedy might suggest itself to me. For his part, he should be
glad to listen to it, and to recommend it to Sinclair's attention. At
all events, he was prepared to engage to proceed no further with the
transaction of which I had obtained knowledge, and all he asked in
return was, that I should not wait upon Lord Railton, and acquaint him
with what had transpired. To communicate the matter to his lordship,
would be to shut out finally and for ever the last hopes of the
unhappy children.
My promise was given, as soon as I learned for certain that Rupert had
set sail for London by the packet that quitted Calais harbour at an
early hour that morning. My own business urged me to proceed forthwith
to Paris, but I could not be easy until I had secured the fulfilment
of General Travis's engagement by another interview with Rupert.
Accordingly, I returned to England. My task with Sinclair was an easy
one. He had already had the good sense to discover that to part with
all that he had in the world for a sum that must be dissipated in a
few years at the most, would be an act of madness which no amount of
pressing difficulty could warrant. Moreover, the sum of money that was
offered by the gentleman whose honesty and generosity had been so
highly lauded by the general, had been so shamefully small, that
Rupert retreated with horror from the abyss towards which he had so
incautiously advanced. I received a full assurance from the harassed
man that he would suffer any extremity rather than listen again to
similar propositions, and then I recommenced my journey with an easier
conscience. So far, a tremendous blow had been averted. But what would
happen next--what scheme the general would next suggest--what measures
the very critical condition of Sinclair's affairs would make
absolutely necessary--it was impossible to guess--to foresee, or to
think of without deep anxiety and great alarm.
Six months elapsed, and Rupert Sinclair was still rapidly descending.
With increased and increasing liabilities, there was more profuseness
and greater recklessness. No one knew better than Rupert himself the
folly and even sinfulness of his mode of life, yet any body would have
found it easier than himself to put a stop to it. He was absorbed in
the existence of his wife. As I have already said, her life was
his--her wishes, her thoughts, and aims. She could not desire, and he
not gratify; she could not ask to be a queen amidst the throng in
which she moved, and he not place her on the throne at any sacrifice,
however costly; at any risk, however desperate. This was the secret of
his misery. And then from day to day, he lived bankrupt-like, on hope.
Something would happen. He had faith in the love of his mother, in the
natural goodness of a father's heart. Time would heal the wound that
had been inflicted; and incline them to look with commiseration on
youthful errors easy to repair.
A glimmering of promise stole forth at this crisis of the history. The
critical position of the ministry for the time being, had brought Lord
Railton and his wife back to England; and I resolved, in my eagerness
to serve my unhappy pupil, to see her ladyship, and to make an
attempt at reconciliation, even if it should be repulsed with the
insult I had met with at her husband's hands. I could not suffer
Sinclair to sink, so long as one effort might save him. I had heard
that, cold and selfish as Lady Railton was, love for her child had
been a redeeming point in her character from the moment of his birth.
Feeling surely was not dead within her! Could I but gain an interview,
would it not be easy to recall in her heart natural emotions, which,
though deadened, might never be entirely hushed, and to extract
sympathy from a bosom already inclined to pity by love? The attempt
was a bold one--but the prize, in the event of success, was not small;
and surely worth a venture. I took courage, and was not wholly
disappointed.
His lordship, I had heard upon inquiry, was generally absent from home
during the forenoon. One morning, at ten o'clock precisely, I
presented myself at Grosvenor Square, and sent my card to her
ladyship. I was admitted at once. In an elegantly furnished boudoir,
surrounded by all the luxuries that money could furnish, or the
pampered sense demand, I beheld Lady Railton, for the first time since
the marriage of her son. She sat behind an open screen, through which
she spoke to me, with her eyes bent to the table on which her arms
rested. She had been writing at the moment of my announcement; and
though excited by my presence, her countenance betrayed more
satisfaction than displeasure at my visit. A visible change had taken
place in her. She was much thinner than when I saw her last; her eyes
were sunken, and her cheek was very pale; she was evidently suffering
from the shock which I had occasioned her, for her thin lips were
tightly pressed together, and quivering at the corners. I felt deep
pity for the slave of fashion; but gathered courage also from the
pleasing exhibition of sensibility in one whom God had made a mother
to save her from heartlessness.
"Shut the door, Mr Wilson," said Lady Railton in an under tone, "and
pray be seated."
I complied with her request.
"You have been somewhat tardy, methinks, in finding your way hither,"
proceeded her ladyship.
I informed her of my visit to Lord Railton, and its disagreeable
termination. She had not heard of it.
"Lord Railton," she continued, "has requested me to hold no
intercourse with my son, and his lordship's requests have ever been
commands to me. I have not disobeyed him. But I have looked for you. I
made no promise to deny admittance to you. You were his friend. When
did you see him?"
"Very lately, madam," I answered.
"He is in great difficulty and trouble--is he not?"
I shook my head.
Kind nature pleaded for poor Rupert. The mother attempted to
speak--once--twice: her lips trembled: she could not: a flood of tears
saved her from choking.
"He is well?" she asked at length.
"Well," I answered, "but for his trials--which are severe indeed."
"What can be done?" inquired Lady Railton.
"To bring him peace of mind--to repair the mischief that has
happened--to secure prudence for the future--to save him from utter
ruin, I know no remedy save reconciliation with his parents."
Lady Railton sighed deeply, and exclaimed--
"Impossible!"
"Indeed!" said I, as if surprised.
"Lord Railton is inexorable. He has listened to my appeals unmoved: he
will listen to them no longer. Unhappy Rupert!"
"Unhappy indeed!" said I.
"His wife is very fair, they say?"
"Lovely, madam!"
"But wilful and extravagant?"
"Wayward, perhaps, but young. Oh Lady Railton, do not revenge too
harshly upon a spoiled child of nature and the world, the sins of the
world's committing. Mrs Sinclair has a warm and affectionate heart;
she is devoted to her husband. Your ladyship's friendship and advice
would at once render her all you could hope to find in the wife of
your son. Permit me to say that the absence of your countenance has
alone been sufficient to"----
"Alas! you urge in vain. I dare not see them!"
"It is a hard saying, madam," I rejoined: "may you not live to repent
it!"
Lady Railton rose from her seat, came from behind the screen, and
paced her small chamber with perturbation. She suddenly stopped before
a cabinet--a drawer of which she unlocked, and produced from it a
pocket-book.
"Take this, Mr Wilson," she said in a hurried and faltering voice. "I
dare not see him--must not correspond with him. I am his mother, and I
feel bitterly, most bitterly for him. But I am Lord Railton's wife,
and I know my duty. He has disgraced us--irreparably, irrecoverably.
You cannot understand how deep the stain is which our name has
suffered; you cannot calculate the wrong inflicted on my husband.
Reconciliation is hopeless!"
"And this pocket-book, madam?" I coldly asked.
"Contains an order on my banker for three thousand pounds--all that I
have been able to hoard up for my unhappy boy since he deserted us.
The sum, I know, is trifling, compared with his exigencies. But what
can I do? His own conduct has rendered me helpless."
Poor Lady Railton, to do her justice, suffered much from the struggle
between maternal feeling and her mistaken sense of duty. Her eyes
filled with tears again, and she sat before me sobbing bitterly.
"Let me entreat your ladyship," I exclaimed with animation, "to make
one effort for the redemption of the children whom you may lose for
ever by the stern course you now adopt. Your influence with Lord
Railton is naturally and deservedly very great. I cannot bring myself
to believe that he will be insensible to your appeals, if you will but
urge them with the earnestness and tenderness which so well become
you. I an satisfied that the difficulties of Mr Sinclair would cease
at once, and his happiness as well as your own be secured, if he could
find parents and advisers in those to whom he has a right to look for
advice and aid. Whatever his extravagance may have been, whatever his
youthful follies, I do implore your ladyship to bear in mind, that not
he alone is answerable for them, but they also in part who deserted
him in the hour of his greatest need. You may save him now--when I
next meet your ladyship, the time will have passed away."
"Spare me this anguish," said her ladyship with assumed calmness. "I
repeat--it is impossible. The hour may come when it shall be permitted
me to satisfy the promptings of my heart. Till that hour arrives, it
is but torture to be reminded of my inability and weakness."
"Pardon me, Lady Railton--I have done."
I was about to rise, when her ladyship checked me.
"In that pocket-book, Mr Wilson," she continued, "you will find a
correspondence respecting the sale of Sinclair's commission."
"His commission!" said I with surprise, for I had not heard of his
desire to sell out before.
"Yes. He now awaits a purchaser of his commission to be gazetted out.
I have prevented the sale hitherto. Assure him--not from me, but from
yourself, that however slender is the hope now of his father's
ultimate forgiveness, he cuts it off entirely by that act. Let the
commission be withdrawn at once from the Horse-guards; the draft that
accompanies the correspondence will make up to him the sum he loses.
"Am I to present it as a gift from your ladyship?"
"No--yes--as you will; but let him not write or communicate with me in
any way. I have engaged to hold no intercourse with him, and I cannot
disobey the injunctions of Lord Railton." I rose; her ladyship gave me
her hand with an expression of good will, and then suffered me to
depart without another word.