Hargrave no sooner perceived the futility of his design to involve Laura
in a debt of honour, than he laid aside the disguise which had been
assumed to lull her vigilance, and which he had never worn without
difficulty. He condescended, however, to save appearance, by taking
advantage of the idea which Laura had herself suggested to Lady Pelham,
and averred that he had made a powerful effort to recover his
self-possession; but he declared that, having totally failed in his
endeavours to obtain his liberty, he was determined never to renew them,
and would trust to time and accident for removing Laura's prejudice. In
vain did she assure him that no time could produce such a revolution in
her sentiments as would at all avail him; that though his eminent
improvement in worth might secure her esteem, her affections were
alienated beyond recall. The old system was resumed, and with greater
vigour than before, because with less fear of observation and more
frequent opportunities of attack. Every meal, every visit, every public
place, furnished occasions for his indefatigable assiduities, from which
Laura found no refuge beyond the precincts of her own chamber.
Regardless of the vexation which such a report might give her, he chose
to make his suit a subject of the tittle-tattle of the day. By this
manoeuvre, in which he had before found his advantage, he hoped that
several purposes might be served. The publicity of his claim would keep
other pretenders at a distance; it would oblige those who mentioned him
to Laura to speak, if not favourably, at least with decent caution; and
it might possibly at last induce her to listen with less reluctance to
what every one spoke of as natural and probable. Lady Pelham seconded
his intentions, by hints of her niece's engagement, and confidential
complaints to her friends of the _mauvaise honte_ which made Laura
treat with such reserve the man to whom she had long been affianced. The
consequence of their manoeuvring was, that Hargrave's right to persecute
Laura seemed universally acknowledged. The men, at his approach, left
her free to his attendance; the women entertained her with praises of
his person, manners, and equipage; with hints of her situation, too
gentle to warrant direct contradiction; or charges made with conviction
too strong to yield any form of denial.
Lady Pelham, too, resumed her unwearied remonstrances, and teased,
chided, argued, upbraided, entreated, and scolded, through every tedious
hour in which the absence of visitors left Laura at her mercy. Laura had
at one time determined against submitting to such treatment, and had
resolved, that, if it were renewed, she would seek a refuge far from her
persecutors, and from England. But that resolution had been formed when
there appeared no immediate necessity for putting it in practice; and
England contained somewhat to which Laura clung almost unconsciously.
Amidst all her vexations, Mrs De Courcy's letters soothed her ruffled
spirits; and more than once, when she renewed her determination to quit
Lady Pelham, a few lines from Norwood made her pause in its fulfilment,
reminding her that a few months, however unpleasing, would soon steal
away, and that her return to the country would at least bring some
mitigation of her persecutions.
Though Mrs De Courcy wrote often, and confidentially, she never
mentioned Montague further than was necessary to avoid particularity.
She said little of his health, nothing of his spirits or occupations,
and never hinted any knowledge of his rejected love. Laura's inquiries
concerning him were answered with vague politeness; and thus her
interest in the state of his mind was constantly kept awake. Often did
she repeat to herself, that she hoped he would soon learn to consider
her merely as a friend; and that which we have often repeated as truth,
we in time believe to be true.
Laura had been in town about a month, when one of her letters to Norwood
was followed by a longer silence than usual. She wrote again, and still
the answer was delayed. Fearing that illness prevented Mrs De Courcy
from writing, Laura had endured some days of serious anxiety, when a
letter was brought her, addressed in Montague's hand. She hastily tore
it open, and her heart fluttered between pleasure and apprehension, when
she perceived that the whole letter was written by him. It was short and
cautious. He apologized for the liberty he took, by saying, that a
rheumatic affection having prevented his mother from using her pen, she
had employed him as her secretary, fearing to alarm Laura by longer
silence. The letter throughout was that of a kind yet respectful friend.
Not a word betrayed the lover. The expressions of tender interest and
remembrance with which it abounded, were ascribed to Mrs De Courcy, or
at least shared with her, in a manner which prevented any embarrassment
in the reply. Laura hesitated for a moment, whether her answer should be
addressed to Mrs De Courcy, or to Montague; but Montague was her
benefactor, their intimacy was sanctioned by her best friend, and it is
not difficult to imagine how the question was decided. Her answer
produced a reply, which again was replied to in its turn; and thus a
correspondence was established, which, though at first constrained and
formal, was taught by Montague's prudent forbearance, to assume a
character of friendly ease.
This correspondence, which soon formed one of Laura's chief pleasures,
she never affected to conceal from Lady Pelham. On the contrary, she
spoke of it with perfect openness and candour. Unfortunately, however,
it did not meet with her Ladyship's approbation. She judged it highly
unfavourable to her designs in regard to Hargrave. She imagined that, if
not already an affair of love, it was likely soon to become so; and she
believed that, at all events, Laura's intercourse with the De Courcys
would foster those antiquated notions of morality to which Hargrave owed
his ill success. Accordingly, she at first objected to Laura's new
correspondence; then lectured on its impropriety and imprudence; and,
lastly took upon her peremptorily to prohibit its continuance. Those who
are already irritated by oppression, a trifle will at last rouse to
resistance. This was an exercise of authority so far beyond Laura's
expectations, that it awakened her resolution to submit no longer to the
importunity and persecution which she had so long endured, but to depart
immediately for Scotland. Willing, however, to execute her purpose with
as little expence of peace as possible, she did not open her intentions
at the moment of irritation. She waited a day of serenity to propose her
departure.
In order to procure the means of defraying the expence of her journey,
it was become necessary to remind Lady Pelham of her loan, which
appeared to have escaped her Ladyship's recollection. Laura,
accordingly, one day gently hinted a wish to be repaid. Lady Pelham at
first looked surprised, and affected to have forgotten the whole
transaction; but, upon being very distinctly reminded of the
particulars, she owned that she recollected something of it, and
carelessly promised to settle it soon; adding that she knew Laura had no
use for the money. Laura then frankly announced the purpose to which she
meant to apply it; saying, that, as her aunt was now surrounded by more
agreeable society, she hoped she might, without inconvenience, be
spared, and would therefore relieve Lady Pelham of her charge, by paying
a visit to Mrs Douglas. Rage flamed in Lady Pelham's countenance, while
she burst into a torrent of invective against her niece's ingratitude,
and coldness of heart; and it mingled with triumph as she concluded by
saying,--'Do, Miss; by all means go to your precious Scotland, but find
the means as you best can; for not one penny will I give you for such a
purpose. I have long expected some such fine freak as this, but I
thought I should disappoint it.' Not daunted by this inauspicious
beginning, Laura, taking encouragement from her aunt's known
instability, again and again renewed the subject; but Lady Pelham's
purposes, however easily shaken by accident or caprice, were ever
inflexible to entreaty. 'She possessed,' she said, 'the means of
preventing her niece's folly, and she was determined to employ them.'
Laura burnt with resentment at the injustice of this determination. She
acknowledged no right which Lady Pelham possessed to detain her against
her own consent, and she considered the detention of her lawful property
as little else than fraud. But perceiving that remonstrance was useless,
she judged it most prudent not to embitter, by vain recriminations, an
intercourse from which she could not immediately escape. Without further
complaint or upbraiding, she submitted to her fate; content with
resolving to employ more discreetly the next payment of her annuity, and
with making a just but unavailing appeal to her aunt's generosity, by
asserting the right of defencelessness to protection. Lady Pelham had
not the slightest idea of conceding any thing to this claim. On the
contrary, the certainty that Laura could not withdraw from her power,
encouraged her to use it with less restraint. She invited Hargrave to a
degree of familiarity which he had not before assumed; admitted him at
all hours; sanctioned any freedom which he dared to use with Laura; and
forced or inveigled her into frequent tête-à-têtes with him.
Fretted beyond her patience, Laura's temper more than once failed under
this treatment, and she bitterly reproached Hargrave as the source of
all her vexation. As it was, however, her habitual study to convert
every event of her life to the purposes of virtue, it soon occurred to
her, that, during these compulsory interviews, she might become the
instrument of awakening her unworthy lover to more noble pursuits. Like
a ray of light, the hope of usefulness darted into her soul, shedding a
cheering beam on objects which before were dark and comfortless; and,
with all the enthusiastic warmth of her character, she entered on her
voluntary task; forgetting, in her eagerness to recal a sinner from the
error of his ways, the weariness, disgust, and dread with which she
listened to the ravings of selfish passion. She no longer endeavoured to
avoid him, no longer listened to him with frozen silence or avowed
disdain. During their interviews, she scarcely noticed his
protestations, but employed every interval in urging him, with all the
eloquence of dread, to retreat from the gulf which was yawning to
receive him; in assuring him, with all the solemnity of truth, that the
waters of life would repay him a thousand-fold for the poisoned cup of
pleasure. Truth, spoken by the loveliest lips in the world, confirmed by
the lightnings of a witching eye, kindled at times in Hargrave a
something which he mistook for the love of virtue. He declared his
abhorrence of his former self, asserted the innocence of his present
manner of life, and vowed that, for the future, he should be blameless.
But when Laura rather incautiously urged him to give proof of his
reformation, by renouncing a passion whose least gratifications were
purchased at the expence of justice and humanity, he insisted that she
required more than nature could endure, and vehemently protested that he
would never, but with life, relinquish the hope of possessing her. Her
remonstrances had however one effect, of which she was altogether
unconscious. Hargrave could not estimate the force of those motives
which led her to labour so earnestly for the conversion of a person
wholly indifferent to her; and though she often assured him that her
zeal was disinterested, he cherished a hope that she meant to reward his
improvement. In this hope he relinquished, for a while, the schemes
which he had devised against the unsuspecting Laura, till accident again
decided him against trusting to her free consent for the accomplishment
of his wishes.
Among other exercises of authority to which Lady Pelham was emboldened
by her niece's temporary dependence on her will, she adhered to her
former prohibition of Laura's correspondence with De Courcy. Laura,
unwilling to make it appear a matter of importance, promised that she
would desist; but said that she must first write to Mr De Courcy to
account for her seeming caprice. Lady Pelham consented, and the letter
was written. It spoke of Laura's situation, of her sentiments, of her
regret for Hargrave's strange perseverance, of the dread and vexation to
which he occasionally subjected her. To atone for its being the last, it
was more friendly, more communicative than any she had formerly written.
Laura meant to disguise under a sportive style the effects which
oppression had produced upon her spirits; and the playful melancholy
which ran throughout, gave her expressions an air of artless tenderness.
Lady Pelham passed through the hall as this letter was lying upon the
table, waiting for the servant who was to carry it to the post; she
looked at it. The sheet was completely filled. She wondered what it
could contain. She took it up and examined it, as far as the seal would
permit her. What she saw did but increase her curiosity. It was only
wafered, and therefore easily opened; but then it was so dishonourable
to open a letter. Yet what could the letter be the worse? A girl should
have no secrets from her near relations. Still, to break a seal!--It was
felony by the law. Lady Pelham laid down the letter and walked away,
already proud of having disdained to do a base action; but she heard the
servant coming for his charge; she thought it best to have time to
consider the matter. She could give him the letter at any time--and she
slipped it into her pocket.
Sad sentence is produced against 'the woman who deliberates:' Lady
Pelham read the letter; and then, in the heat of her resentment at the
manner in which her favourite was mentioned, shewed it to Hargrave. As
he marked the innocent confiding frankness, the unconstrained respect,
the chastened yet avowed regard, with which Laura addressed his rival,
and contrasted them with the timid caution which, even during the reign
of passion, had characterized her intercourse with himself,--contrasted
them too with the mixture of pity, dislike, and dread, which had
succeeded her infatuation, all the pangs of rage and jealousy took hold
on the soul of Hargrave. He would have vented his frenzy by tearing the
letter to atoms, but Lady Pelham snatched it from his quivering grasp,
and dreading detection, sealed and restored it to its first destination.
The first use which he made of his returning powers of self-command, was
to urge Lady Pelham's concurrence in a scheme which he had before
devised, but which had been laid aside in consequence of his ill-founded
hopes. He entreated that her Ladyship would, by an opportune absence,
assist his intention; which was, he said, to alarm Laura with the
horrors of a pretended arrest for an imaginary debt, and to work upon
the gratefulness of her disposition, by himself appearing as her
deliverer from her supposed difficulty. Lady Pelham in vain urged the
futility of this strategem, representing the obstacles to its
accomplishment, and the certainty of early detection. Hargrave continued
to importune, and she yielded.
Yet Hargrave himself was as far as Lady Pelham from expecting any fruits
from the feeble artifice which he had detailed to her. He had little
expectation that Laura could ever be induced to receive any pecuniary
obligation at his hands, and still less that she would consider a loan
which she might almost immediately repay, as a favour important enough
to be rewarded with herself. He even determined that his aid should be
offered in terms which would ensure its rejection. Though he durst not
venture to unfold his whole plan to Lady Pelham, his real intention was
merely to employ the disguise of the law in removing Laura from even the
imperfect protection of her aunt, to a place where she would be utterly
without defence from his power. To the baseness of his purpose he
blinded himself by considering the reparation which he should make in
bestowing wealth and title on his victim; its more than savage brutality
he forgot in anticipation of the gratitude with which Laura, humbled in
her own eyes, and in those of the world, would accept the assiduities
which now she spurned. He little knew the being whom he thus devoted to
destruction! Incited by jealousy and resentment, he now resolved on the
immediate execution of his design; and he did not quit Lady Pelham till
he had obtained her acquiescence in it so far as it was divulged to her.
He then hastened to prepare the instruments of his villainy; and ere he
gave himself time to cool, all was in readiness for the scheme which was
to break the innocent heart that had loved and trusted him in seeming
virtue, and pitied and prayed for him and warned him in guilt. How had
the shades of evil deepened since the time when Hargrave first faltered
between his infant passion and a virtuous purpose! He had turned from
the path which 'shineth more and more unto the perfect day.' On that in
which he trode the night was stealing, slow but sure, which closes at
last in outer darkness.
One morning at breakfast, Lady Pelham, with more than usual civility,
apologized for leaving Laura alone during the rest of the day, saying
that business called her but a few miles out of the town, but that she
would return in the evening. She did not say whither she was going; and
Laura, never imagining that it could at all concern her to know, did not
think of inquiring. Pleasing herself with the prospect of one day of
peace and solitude, she saw her aunt depart, and then sat down to detail
to the friend of her youth her situation, her wishes, and her
intentions. She was interrupted by a servant who came to inform her that
two men below desired to speak with her. Wondering who in that land of
strangers could have business with her, Laura desired that they should
be shewn up stairs. Two coarse robust-looking men, apparently of the
lower rank, entered the room. Laura was unable to divine what could have
procured her a visit from persons of their appearance; yet, with her
native courtesy, she was motioning them to a seat, when one of them
stepped forward; and, laying on her shoulder a stick which he held,
said, in a rough ferocious voice, 'Laura Montreville, I arrest you at
the suit of John Dykes.' Laura was surprised but not alarmed. 'This must
be some mistake,' said she, 'I know no such person as John Dykes.' 'He
knows you though, and that is enough,' answered the man. 'Friend,'
returned Laura, mildly, 'you mistake me for some other person.' 'What,
Miss,' said the other man, advancing, 'do you pretend that you are not
Laura Montreville, daughter of the late Captain William Montreville, of
Glenalbert in Scotland?' Laura, now changing colour, owned that she was
the person so described. 'But,' said she, recovering herself, 'I cannot
be arrested. I do not owe five shillings in the world.' 'Mayhap not,
Miss,' said the man, 'but your father did; and you can be proved to have
intermeddled with his effects as his heiress, which makes you liable for
all his debts. So you'll please pay me the two hundred pounds which he
owed to Mr John Dykes.' 'Two hundred pounds!' exclaimed Laura. 'The
thing is impossible. My father left a list of his debts in his own
hand-writing, and they have all been faithfully discharged by the sale
of his property in Scotland.' The men looked at each other for a moment,
and seemed to hesitate; but the roughest of the two presently answered,
'What nonsense do you tell me of lists? who's to believe all that? I
have a just warrant; so either pay the money or come along.' 'Surely,
friend,' said Laura, who now suspected the people to be mere swindlers,
'you cannot expect that I should pay such a sum without inquiring into
your right to demand it. If your claim be a just one, present it in a
regular account, properly attested, and it shall be paid to-morrow.' 'I
have nothing to do with to-morrow, Miss,' said the man. 'I must do my
business. It's all one to me whether you pay or not. It does not put a
penny in my pocket: only if you do not choose to pay, come along; for we
can't be standing here all day.' 'I cannot procure the money just now,
even though I were willing,' answered Laura, with spirit, 'and I do not
believe you have any right to remove me.' 'Oh, as for the right, Miss,
we'll let you see that. There is our warrant, properly signed and
sealed. You may look at it in my hand, for I don't much like to trust
you with it.'
The warrant was stamped, and imposingly written upon parchment. With the
tautology which Laura had been taught to expect in a law-paper, it rung
changes upon the permission to seize and confine the person of Laura
Montreville, as heiress of William Montreville, debtor to John Dykes of
Pimlico. It was signed as by a magistrate, and marked with the large
seals of office. Laura now no longer doubted; and, turning pale and
faint, asked the men whether they would not stay for an hour while she
sent to Finsbury Square to beg the advice of Mr Derwent, Lady Pelham's
man of business. 'You may send for him to the lock-up house,' said the
savage. 'We have no time to spare.' 'And whither will you take me?'
cried Laura, almost sinking with horror. 'Most likely,' answered the
most gentle of the two ruffians, 'you would not like to be put into the
common prison; and you may have as good accommodations in my house as
might serve a dutchess.'
Spite of her dismay Laura's presence of mind did not entirely forsake
her. She hesitated whether she should not send to beg the assistance of
some of Lady Pelham's acquaintance, or at least their advice in a
situation so new to her. Among them all there was none with whom she had
formed any intimacy; none whom, in her present circumstances of
embarrassment and humiliation, she felt herself inclined to meet. She
shrunk at the thought of the form in which her story might be
represented by the malignant or the misjudging, and she conceived it her
best course to submit quietly to an inconvenience of a few hours
continuance, from which she did not doubt that her aunt's return would
that evening relieve her. Still the idea of being a prisoner; of
committing herself to such attendants; of being an inmate of the abodes
of misery, of degradation, perhaps of vice, filled her with dread and
horror, while, sinking on a couch, she covered her pale face with her
hands, and inwardly commended herself to the care of heaven.
The men, meanwhile, stood whispering apart, and seemed to have forgotten
the haste which they formerly expressed. At last one of them, after
looking from the window into the street, suddenly approached her, and,
rudely seizing her arm, cried, 'Come, Miss, the coach can't wait all
day. It's of no use crying; we're too well used to that, so walk away if
you don't choose to be carried.' Laura dashed the tears from her eyes,
and, faintly trying to disengage her arm, was silently following her
conductor to the door, when it opened and Hargrave entered.
Prepared as he was for a scene of distress, determined as he was to let
no movement of compassion divert his purpose, he could not resist the
quiet anguish which was written in the lovely face of his victim; and
turning with real indignation to her tormentor, he exclaimed, 'Ruffian!
what have you done to her?' But quickly recollecting himself, he threw
his arm familiarly round her, and said, 'My dearest Laura, what is the
meaning of all this? What can these people want with you?' 'Nothing
which can at all concern you Sir,' said Laura, her spirit returning at
the boldness of his address. 'Nay, my dear creature,' said Hargrave, 'I
am sure something terrible has happened. Speak, fellows,' said he,
turning to his emissaries, 'what is your business with Miss
Montreville?' 'No great matter, Sir,' answered the man; 'only we have a
writ against her for two hundred pounds, and she does not choose to pay
it; so we must take her to a little snug place, that's all.' 'To a
prison! You, Laura, to a prison! Heavens! it is not to be thought of.
Leave the room fellows, and let me talk with Miss Montreville.' 'There
is no occasion, Sir,' said Laura. 'I am willing to submit to a short
confinement. My aunt returns this evening, and she will undoubtedly
advance the money. It ought to be much the same to me what room I
inhabit for the few intervening hours.' 'Good heaven! Laura do you
consider what you say? Do you consider the horrors--the disgrace?
Dearest girl, suffer me to settle this affair, and let me for once do
something that may give you pleasure.' Laura's spirit revolted from the
freedom with which this was spoken. Suffering undeserved humiliation,
never had she been more jealous of her claim to respect. 'I am obliged
to you, Sir,' said she, 'but your good offices are unnecessary. Some
little hardship, I find, I must submit to; and I believe the smallest
within my choice is to let these people dispose of me till Lady Pelham's
return.' Hargrave reddened. 'She prefers a prison,' thought he, 'to
owing even the smallest obligation to me. But her pride is near a fall;'
and he smiled with triumphant pity on the stately mien of his victim.
He was, in effect, almost indifferent whether she accepted or rejected
his proffered assistance. If she accepted it, he was determined that it
should be clogged with a condition expressly stated, that he was for the
future to be received with greater favour. If she refused, and he
scarcely doubted that she would, he had only to make the signal, and she
would be hurried, unresisting, to destruction. Yet, recollecting the
despair, the distraction, with which she would too late discover her
misfortune; the bitter upbraidings with which she would meet her
betrayer; the frantic anguish with which she would mourn her disgrace,
if, indeed, she survived it, he was inclined to wish that she would
choose the more quiet way of forwarding his designs, and he again
earnestly entreated her to permit his interference. Laura's strong
dislike to being indebted for any favour to Hargrave, was somewhat
balanced in her mind by the horror of a prison, and by the consideration
that she could immediately repay him by the sale of part of her annuity.
Though she still resisted his offer, therefore, it was less firmly than
before. Hargrave continued to urge her. 'If,' said he, 'you dislike to
allow me the pleasure of obliging you, this trifling sum may be restored
whenever you please; and if you afterwards think that any little debt
remains, it is in your power to repay it a thousand fold. One kind
smile, one consenting look, were cheaply purchased with a world.' The
hint which concluded this speech seemed to Laura manifestly intended to
prevent her acceptance of the offer which he urged so warmly. 'Are you
not ashamed, Sir,' said she, with a disdainful smile, 'thus to make a
parade of generosity which you do not mean to practise? I know you do
not--cannot expect, that I should poorly stoop to purchase your
assistance.' 'Upon my soul, Laura,' cried Hargrave, seizing her hands,
'I am most earnest, most anxious, that you should yield to me in this
affair; nor will I quit this spot till you have consented--nor till you
have allowed me to look upon your consent as a pledge of your future
favour.' Laura indignantly snatched her hands from his grasp. 'All that
I comprehend of this,' said she, 'is insult, only insult. Leave me, Sir!
It is unworthy even of you to insult the misfortunes of a defenceless
woman.' Hargrave would not be repulsed. He again took her hand and
persevered in his entreaties, not forgetting, however, to insinuate the
conditions. Laura, in silent scorn, turned from him, wondering what
could be the motive of his strange conduct, till it suddenly occurred to
her that the arrest might be a mere plot contrived by Hargrave himself
for the purpose of terrifying her into the acceptance of the conditions
necessary to her escape. This suspicion once formed gained strength by
every circumstance. The improbability of the debt; the time chosen when
Lady Pelham was absent; the opportune arrival of Hargrave; the
submission of the pretended bailiffs to his order; his frequent
repetition of the conditions of his offer, at the same time that he
appeared to wish for its acceptance; all conspired to convince Laura
that she was intended to be made the dupe of a despicable artifice.
Glowing with indignation, she again forced herself from Hargrave. 'Away
with this contemptible mockery,' she cried, 'I will hear no more of it.
While these people choose to guard me in this house, it shall be in an
apartment secure from your intrusion.' Then, before Hargrave could
prevent her, she left him, and shut herself into her own chamber.
Here, at greater liberty to think, a new question occurred to her. In
case of her refusal to accept of Hargrave's terms--in case she actually
preferred intrusting herself to the pretended bailiffs, whither could
they intend to convey her? Laura's blood ran cold at the thought. If
they were indeed the agents of Hargrave, what was there of dreadful that
she had not to fear! Yet she could scarcely believe that persons could
be found to attempt so daring a villany. Would they venture upon an
outrage for which they must answer to the laws! an outrage which Lady
Pelham would certainly feel herself concerned to bring to immediate
detection and punishment. 'Unfortunate chance!' cried Laura, 'that my
aunt should be absent just when she might have saved me. And I know not
even where to seek her.--Why did she not tell me whither she was going?
She who was wont to be so open!--Can this be a part of this cruel snare?
Could she--Oh it is impossible! My fears make me suspicious and unjust.'
Though Laura thus endeavoured to acquit Lady Pelham, her suspicion of
Hargrave's treachery augmented every moment. While she remembered that
her father, though he had spoken to her of his affairs with the most
confidential frankness, had never hinted at such a debt, never named
such a person as his pretended creditor--while she thought of the manner
of Hargrave's interference, the improbability that her own and her
father's name and address, as well as the casualty of Lady Pelham's
absence should be known to mere strangers--the little likelihood that
common swindlers would endeavour to extort money by means so hazardous
and with such small chance of success--her conviction rose to certainty;
and she determined that nothing short of force should place her in the
power of these impostors. Yet how soon might that force be employed!
How feeble was the resistance which she could offer! And who would
venture to aid her in resisting the pretended servants of law!
'Miserable creature that I am!' cried she, wringing her hands in an
agony of grief and terror, 'must I submit to this cruel wrong?--Is there
no one to save me--no friend near?--Yes! yes, I have a friend from whom
no treachery of man can tear me--who can deliver me from their
violence--who can do more--can make their cruelty my passport to life
eternal. Let me not despair then--Let me not be wanting to myself.--With
His blessing the feeblest means are mighty.'
After a moment's consideration Laura rung her bell, and the maid who
usually attended her appeared. 'Catherine,' said Laura, endeavouring to
speak composedly, 'will you oblige me by going to Finsbury Square, to Mr
Derwent, and begging of him to come hither instantly?' 'Bless me,
Madam,' cried the girl, 'you look as if you were just going to faint!
can I get you any thing?' 'No, no, I shall not faint,' said Laura. 'Go
my dear--go quickly--if you would save a wretch from destruction. Stop
not a moment I implore you!--Oh Catherine, more than life depends on
you!' The girl's curiosity was strongly excited by these words, as well
as by the strange visit of the men who were waiting in the lobby. She
would fain have staid to make inquiries, but the imploring anguish of
Laura's look and manner was irresistible, and she hastened out of the
room. Laura then double-locking the door determined that by force only
it should be entered, and throwing herself on a seat, strove to rally
the spirits she was so soon to need. In a few minutes, however,
Catherine returned, and through the key hole informed Laura that she had
been intercepted by the men below stairs, who would not suffer any one
to leave the house. 'All is then as I feared,' cried Laura in a voice of
desperation. 'And thus has he made his cruel plot so sure! Is there no
escape! Oh Catherine! cannot you steal away from them? Is there no means
to save me?' Moved by the voice of anguish, the girl promised to do her
utmost, but confessed that she had little hope of succeeding.
For a moment Laura believed her fate sealed, and almost gave herself up
to despair; but, now convinced of the treachery of Hargrave, and
unwillingly obliged to suspect Lady Pelham's connivance, indignation at
such unexampled baseness and cruelty again roused her fainting spirit.
Again she determined to resist to the uttermost, and if dragged by force
from her place of refuge, to appeal to the humanity of the passengers
in the street. 'Surely,' thought she, 'even common strangers will not
permit such oppression.' The windows of her chamber looked towards the
gardens behind the house; and she now regretted that she had not rather
shut herself up in one of the front apartments, from whence she could
have explained her situation to the passers by. Seeing no other chance
of escape, she resolved on attempting to change her place of refuge, and
was approaching the door to listen whether any one was near, when she
was startled by the rough voice of one of the pretended bailiffs. 'Come
along Miss,' he cried, 'we are quite tired of waiting. Come along.' The
shuddering Laura made no reply. 'Come, come Miss,' cried the man again;
'you have had time enough to make ready.' Laura continued silent, while
the ruffian called to her again and again, shaking the door violently.
He threatened, with shocking oaths, that he would burst it open, and
that she would be punished for resisting the officers of justice. All
was in vain. Laura would not answer a single word. Trembling in every
limb, she listened to his blasphemies and vows of vengeance, till she
had wearied out her persecutor, and her ear was gladdened with the sound
of his departing. He was almost immediately succeeded by his less
ferocious companion, who more civilly begged her to hasten, as their
business would not permit any longer delay. Finding that she would not
answer, he reminded her of the consequences of obstructing the execution
of the law; and threatened, if she continued obstinate, to use force.
Laura sat silent and motionless, using every momentary interval of
quiet, in breathing a hasty prayer for deliverance. The least violent of
the fellows proved the most persevering; yet at last she had the
satisfaction to hear him also retire. Presently a lighter step
approached, and Hargrave called to her. 'Miss Montreville! Laura! Miss
Montreville!' Laura was still silent. He called again, without success.
'Miss Montreville is ill,' cried he aloud, as if to some one at a
distance. 'She is insensible. The door must be forced.' 'No! No!' cried
Laura, determined not to leave him this pretence, 'I am not insensible,
nor ill, if you would leave me in peace.' 'For heaven's sake, then,'
returned he, 'let me speak a few words to you.' 'No,' answered Laura,
'you can say nothing that I wish to hear.' 'I beseech you, I implore
you,' said Hargrave, 'only by one word put it in my power to save you
from these miscreants--say but that one little word, and you are free.'
'Man, man!' cried Laura, vehemently, 'why will you make me abhor you? I
want no freedom but from your persecutions! Begone!' 'Only promise me,'
said Hargrave, lowering his voice, 'only promise me that you will give
up that accursed De Courcy, and I will dismiss these men.' 'Do you curse
him who saved your life! Monster! Leave me! I detest you.' Hargrave
gnawed his lip with passion. 'You shall dearly pay for this obstinacy,'
said he, and fiercely strode away.
In the heat of his wrath, he commanded his coadjutors to force the door;
but the law which makes the home of an Englishman a sacred sanctuary,
extends its precious influence, in some faint degree, to the breasts
even of the dregs of mankind; and these wretches, who would have given
up Laura to any other outrage, hesitated to perpetrate this. They
objected the danger. 'Does your Honour think,' said one of them, 'that
the servants will stand by and allow us to break open the door.' 'I tell
you,' said Hargrave, 'all the men-servants are from home. What do you
fear from a parcel of women?' 'Women can bear witness as well as men,
your Honour; and it might be as much as our necks are worth to be
convicted. But if your Honour could entice her out, we'd soon catch
her.' Hargrave took two or three turns along the lobby, and then
returned to Laura. 'Miss Montreville,' said he, 'my dearest Miss
Montreville, I conjure you to admit me only for a moment. These savages
will wait no longer. They are determined to force your door. Once more I
implore you, before it is too late, let me speak with you. I expect them
every moment.' Laura's breast swelled with indignation at this vile
pretence of kindness. 'Acting under your commands, Sir,' said she, 'I
doubt not that they may even dare this outrage. And let them at their
peril. If the laws of my country cannot protect, they shall avenge me.'
For a moment Hargrave stood confounded at this detection, till anger
replacing shame,--'Very well, Madam,' he cried; 'insult me as you
please, and take the consequences.' He then rejoined his emissaries; and
by bribery and threats endeavoured to prevail upon them to consummate
their violence. The men, unwilling to forfeit the reward of the hazard
and trouble they had already undergone, allured by Hargrave's promises,
and fearing his vengeance, at last agreed to drag their hapless victim
to her doom.
Having taken such instruments as they could find, for the purpose of
forcing the door, they followed Hargrave up stairs, and prepared to
begin their work. At this near prospect of the success of all his
schemes, Hargrave's rage began to cool; and a gleam of tenderness and
humanity reviving in his heart, he shrunk from witnessing the anguish
which he was about to inflict. 'Stop,' said he to his people, who were
approaching the door; 'stay a few moments;' and, putting his hand to his
forehead, he walked about, not wavering in his purpose, but endeavouring
to excuse it to himself. 'It is all the consequence of her own
obstinancy,' said he, suddenly stopping. 'You may go on--No; stay, let
me first get out of this house. Her cries would drive me mad.--Make
haste--lose no time after I am gone. It is better over.'
Besides the motive which he owned, Hargrave was impelled to depart by
the dread of meeting Laura's upbraiding eye, and by the shame of
appearing even to the servants, who were so soon to know his baseness,
an inactive spectator of Laura's distress. He hastened from the house,
and the men proceeded in their work. With dread and horror did Laura
listen to their attempts. Pale, breathless, her hands clenched in
terror, she fixed her strained eyes upon the door, which every moment
seemed yielding; then flying to the window, surveyed in despair the
height, which made escape an act of suicide; then again turning to the
door, tried with her feeble strength to aid its resistance. In vain! It
yielded, and the shock threw Laura upon the ground. The ruffians raised
her, more dead then alive, and were seizing her lily arms to lead her
away; but, with all her native majesty, she motioned them from her. 'You
need not touch me,' said she, 'you see I can resist no further.' With
the composure of despair, she followed them to the hall, where, her
strength failing, she sunk upon a seat. The servants now in pity and
amazement approaching her, she addressed herself to one of them. 'Will
you go with me, my good friend,' said she, 'that you may return and tell
Lady Pelham where to find her niece's corpse!' The girl consented with
tears in her eyes; but one of the fellows cried, 'No; no; she may run
after the coach if she likes, but she don't go within side.' 'Why not?'
said the other, with a brutal leer. 'They may both get home again
together. They'll be free enough soon.' Laura shuddered. 'Where wandered
my senses,' said she, 'when I thought of subjecting any creature to the
chance of a fate like mine! Stay here, my dear, and tell Lady Pelham,
that I charge her, by all her hopes here and hereafter, to seek me
before she sleeps. Let her seek me wherever there is wickedness and
wo--and there, living or dead, I shall be found.' 'Let's have done with
all this nonsense,' said one of the men. 'John, make the coach draw up
close to the door.' The fellow went to do as he was desired; while the
other with a handkerchief prepared to stifle the cries of Laura, in
case she should attempt to move the pity of passengers in the street.
Laura heard the carriage stop, she heard the step let down, and the
sound was like her death knell.
The man hurried her through the hall. He opened the street door--and
Catherine entered with Mr Derwent. Laura, raising her bowed-down head,
uttered a cry of joy. 'I am safe!' she cried, and sunk into the arms of
Catherine.
Mr Derwent immediately directed his servants to seize the fellow who had
held Laura, the other having made his escape upon seeing the arrival of
her deliverers. Laura, soon recovering, told her tale to Mr Derwent, who
ordering the man to be searched, examined the warrant, and declared it
to be false. The danger attending forgery, however, had been avoided,
for there was no magistrate of the same name with that which appeared in
the signature. Hargrave's villany thus fully detected, Laura wished to
dismiss his agent; but Mr Derwent would not permit such atrocity to go
unpunished, and gave up the wretch to the arm of law. He then quitted
Laura, leaving his servant to attend her till Lady Pelham's return and,
worn out with the emotion she had undergone, she threw herself on a bed
to seek some rest.
Early in the evening Lady Pelham returned, and immediately inquired for
her niece. The servants, always attentive and often uncharitable
spectators of the actions of their superiors, had before observed the
encouragement which their mistress gave to Hargrave, and less unwilling
to suspect than Laura, were convinced of Lady Pelham's connivance in his
purpose. None of them therefore choosing to announce the failure of a
scheme in which they believed her so deeply implicated, her questions
produced no information except that Miss Montreville was gone indisposed
to bed. The habitual awe with which the good sense and discernment of
Laura had inspired Lady Pelham, was at present augmented almost to fear
by the consciousness of duplicity. She shrunk from encountering the
glance of quiet scrutiny, the plain direct question which left no room
for prevarication, no choice between simple truth and absolute
falsehood. But curiosity to know the success of the plot, and still more
a desire to discover how far she was suspected of abetting it, prevailed
over her fears; and having before studied the part she was to play, she
entered Laura's apartment.
She found her already risen and prepared to receive her. 'My dear
child,' said her Ladyship in one of her kindest tones, 'I am told you
have been ill. What is the matter?' 'My illness is nothing, Madam,'
answered Laura, 'but I have been alarmed in your absence by the most
daring, the most unprincipled outrage!' 'Outrage, my dear!' cried Lady
Pelham in a voice of the utmost surprise; 'What outrage?' Laura then,
commanding by a powerful effort the imagination which swelled her heart,
related her injuries without comment; pausing at times to observe how
her aunt was affected by the recital. Lady Pelham was all amazement;
which, though chiefly pretended, was partly real. She was surprised at
the lengths to which Hargrave had gone, and even suspected his whole
design, though she was far from intending to discover her sentiments to
her niece. 'This is the most extraordinary thing I ever heard of!' cried
she when Laura had ended. 'What can have been the meaning of this trick?
What can have incited the people?' 'Colonel Hargrave, Madam,' said Laura
without hesitation. 'Impossible, my dear! Hargrave can be no further
concerned in it, than so far as taking advantage of the accident to
extort the promise of a little kindness from you. He would never have
ventured to send the men into my house on such an errand.' 'One of them
confessed to Mr Derwent, before the whole family, that Colonel Hargrave
was his employer.' 'Astonishing!' cried Lady Pelham. 'And what do you
suppose to have been Hargrave's intention?' 'I doubt not, Madam,'
returned Laura, commanding her voice, though resentment flashed from her
eyes, 'I doubt not that his intentions were yet more base and inhuman
than the means he employed. But whatever they were, I am certain he
would never have dared to entertain them, had it not been for the
encouragement which your Ladyship has thought proper to give him.' 'I,
child!' cried Lady Pelham, truth in her colour contradicting the
falsehood of her tongue, 'Surely you do not think that I would encourage
him in such a plot!' 'No, Madam,' answered Laura, 'I hope and believe
that you are incapable of consenting to such wickedness. I allude only
to the general countenance which you have always shewn to Colonel
Hargrave.' Lady Pelham could implicitly rely upon Laura's word; and
finding that she was herself unsuspected, she had leisure to attempt
palliating the offence of her _protegé_. 'That countenance,' returned
she, 'shall be completely withdrawn for the future, if Hargrave does not
explain this strange frolic to my satisfaction.' 'Frolic, Madam!' cried
Laura indignantly. 'If that name belongs to crimes which would disgrace
barbarians, then call this a frolic!' 'Come, my dear girl,' said Lady
Pelham, coaxingly throwing her arm round Laura, 'you are too much, and
I must own, according to present appearances, justly irritated, to talk
of this affair coolly tonight. To-morrow we shall converse about it. Now
let's go to tea.' 'No, Madam,' said Laura with spirit, for she saw
through her aunt's intention of glossing over Hargrave's villany--'I
will never again expose myself to the chance of meeting a wretch whose
crimes are my abhorrence. I will not leave this room till I quit it for
ever. Madam, you have often called me firm. Now I will prove to you that
I am so. Give me the means to go hence in a manner becoming your niece,
or my own limbs shall bear me to Scotland, and on the charity of my
fellow-creatures will I rely for support.' 'I protest, my love,' cried
Lady Pelham, 'you are absolutely in a passion, I never saw you so angry
till now.' 'Your Ladyship never saw me have such reason for anger,'
replied Laura. 'I own I am angry, yet I know that my determination is
right, and I assure you it will outlive the heat with which it is
expressed.'
Had Laura's purpose been more placidly announced it would have roused
Lady Pelham to fury; but even those who have least command over their
tempers have generalship enough to perceive the advantage of the attack;
and the passion of a virago has commonly a patriarchal submission for
its elder-born brother. Lady Pelham saw that Laura was in no humour for
trifling; she knew that her resolutions were not easily shaken; and she
quitted her upon pretence of fatigue, but in reality that she might
consider how to divert her from the purpose which she had announced so
peremptorily.
Laura was every day becoming more necessary to her aunt, and to think of
parting with her was seriously disagreeable. Besides, Laura's departure
would effectually blast the hopes of Hargrave; and what would then
become of all Lady Pelham's prospects of borrowing consequence from the
lovely young Countess of Lincourt? Never wanting in invention, Lady
Pelham thought of a hundred projects for preventing her niece's journey
to Scotland. Her choice was fixed by a circumstance which she could not
exclude from her consideration. The story of Hargrave's seditious plot
was likely soon to be made public. It was known to Mr Derwent, and to
all her own household. Her conscience whispered that her connivance
would be suspected. Mr Derwent might be discreet; but what was to be
expected from the discretion of servants? The story would spread from
the footmen to the waiting-maids, and from these to their ladies, till
it would meet her at every turn. Nor had her imprudent consent left her
the power of disclaiming all concern in it, by forbidding Hargrave her
house, since he would probably revenge himself by disclosing her share
in the strategem. Lady Pelham saw no better success of palliating these
evils, than by dismissing her establishment and returning immediately to
Walbourne; and she hoped, at the same time, that it might not be
impossible to prevail on Laura to change the direction of her journey.
For this purpose she began by beseeching her niece to lay aside thoughts
of retiring to Scotland; and was beginning to recount all the
disadvantages of such a proceeding; but Laura would listen to no
remonstrance on the subject; declaring that, if after what had happened,
she remained in a place where she was liable to such outrage, she should
be herself accountable for whatever evil might be the consequence. Lady
Pelham then proposed an immediate removal to Walbourne, artfully
insinuating that, if any cause of complaint should there arise, Laura
would be near the advice and assistance of her friends at Norwood, and
of Mrs Bolingbroke. Laura was not without some wishes that pointed
towards Walbourne; but she remembered the importunities which she had
there endured, and she firmly resisted giving occasion to their renewal.
Lady Pelham had then recourse to tender upbraidings. 'Was it possible
that Laura, the only hope and comfort of her age, would quit her now,
when she had so endeared herself to the widowed heart, reft of all other
treasure--now when increasing infirmity required her aid--now when the
eye which was so soon to close, was fixed on her as on its last earthly
treasure! Would Laura thus cruelly punish her for a crime in which she
had no share; a crime which she was willing to resent to the utmost of
her niece's wishes!' Lady Pelham talked herself into tears, and few
hearts of nineteen are hard enough to resist the tears of age. Laura
consented to accompany her aunt to Walbourne, provided that she should
never be importuned on the subject of Hargrave, nor even obliged to see
him. These conditions Lady Pelham solemnly promised to fulfil, and, well
pleased, prepared for her journey. Hargrave, however, waited on her
before her departure, and excused himself so well on the score of his
passion, his despair, and his eager desire to be allied to Lady Pelham,
that, after a gentle reprimand, he was again received into favour,
informed of the promises which had been made against him, and warned not
be discouraged if their performance could not immediately be dispensed
with. Of this visit Laura knew nothing; for she adhered to her
resolution of keeping her apartment, nor ever crossed its threshold,
till, on the third day after her perilous adventure, the carriage was at
the door which conveyed her to Walbourne.