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THE MYSTERIOUS WANDERER.
A NOVEL:
BY SOPHIA REEVE.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
Dedicated, by Permission,
_TO THE RIGHT HON. LADY ELIZABETH SPENCER._
VOL. II.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, BY C. PILSBURY, ANGEL-COURT,
SNOW-HILL;
AND SOLD BY RICHARDSON AND SON, ROYAL-EXCHANGE;
J. HIGHLEY, FLEET-STREET; AND DIDIER AND TEBBETT
ST. JAMES'S-STREET.
1807.
THE MYSTERIOUS WANDERER.
CHAPTER I.
Sir Henry entertained not the least doubt of its being Ferrand who had
taken Louise; nor, from his general character, but that he would
endeavour to retain her, though in open defiance to the Governor's
command. That he was devoid of principle or honour, he had given an
indubitable proof, in his intended assassination of Harland; nor would
the affair, Sir Henry apprehended, yet end without an effusion of blood.
The courage of Sir Henry was cool but constant: an injury offered to
himself, the benevolence of his disposition would induce him rather to
pardon than resent; but this outrage to a sister he sincerely loved
affected him more keenly; and he determined, should Ferrand prove the
aggressor, to hazard, or even lose his life, to effect her liberation.
With his mind absorbed in a labyrinth of conjectures, and plans for his
procedure, he arrived at the Governor's country residence, and, on
inquiring for Ferrand, was shown into a library.
The East-Indian received him with a constrained civility; which,
however, ceased on learning the purport of his visit: and, in answer to
Sir Henry's demand, if his sister were there? he haughtily replied, he
was not answerable to any one for his conduct, nor would he be
questioned like a school-boy, or dictated to!
"It is not my intention, Sir," said Sir Henry loftily, "to dictate to
you; for my question, if you refuse to answer it, your servants, I doubt
not, will give the information I want: if not, I shall proceed to the
executive part of my commission."
Ferrand bit his lip, and, stamping with passion, exclaimed, "What
farther insults am I to receive? I have been rejected by a proud menial;
my love contemned; insulted by a rival; reproved for my just vengeance,
and treated as a prisoner!--and now--on what authority is the finger of
suspicion pointed at me? Search the fleet; you may, perhaps, find her
with some of her gallant countrymen!"
As he uttered the last sentence, he flung from the room, leaving Sir
Henry to proceed as he should think proper. Sir Henry was not long in
determining: he summoned the attendants, and, showing the Governor's
order, demanded to be admitted into every apartment. But Louise was not
to be found; and Sir Henry at last was persuaded she was not in the
power of Ferrand. The suspicion too that she might have been torn away
by some of the French officers who daily visited the Marchioness, added
to his perplexity. Had Ferrand, he thought, been guilty, he would rather
have braved the action; but, on the contrary, he appeared wholly
actuated by rage at his restriction.
Uncertain how to act, or where to proceed to recover Louise, he returned
to the Marchioness's, where the impatient Harland had unwillingly
remained. His countenance told the success of his commission; and
scarcely could his tongue confirm it, ere Harland exclaimed--"I knew
it--I knew it! Fool that I was to yield to the command of an interested
dotard, and idly lose the moments which may have teemed with danger to
her. But I will find her, though hell and earth combine to hide her from
me!"
He rushed out of the house, followed by Sir Henry, who asked which way
he proposed to direct his course?--"The island is before me," answered
Harland distractedly, "nor will I leave a single spot unsearched!"
Sir Henry mentioned the suspicion to which Ferrand had given rise, and
proposed requesting of the Governor that an inquiry might be made
through the fleets. Harland eagerly agreed to the measure; to which the
Governor as readily consented. Commissioners were accordingly deputed to
the several vessels, whilst Harland and Sir Henry, after vainly
searching the town, directed their course to the surrounding
plantations: but disappointment still attended them; the lovely fugitive
was no where to be discovered, though the most liberal rewards were
offered to those who could give intelligence respecting her.
For four days they continued their search, scarcely allowing themselves
the rest and refreshment nature required, when, to add to their
distress, they were informed the fleet was ready to sail, and only
waited for a favourable wind.
"God of Heaven prevent it!" exclaimed Harland, "for if Louise be not
found, I can sooner forfeit my commission, my honour, nay my life, than
lose her! What can be done, Sir Henry? Which way can we go?"
"Chance, or rather Providence, George," answered Sir Henry dejectedly,
"must direct us. Though the unfortunate girl I am afraid is too well
secreted to be discovered by any means we can use."
"Drive me not mad, Sir Henry, by the supposition," said Harland; "rather
encourage me with hopes, though delusive ones, than tear my heart by
such a truth."
"Alas, Harland," answered Sir Henry, "I would encourage hope in you, but
it is dead in my own bosom. Louise, I am afraid, is irrecoverably lost."
"I must not, will not lose her," cried the frantic Harland. "Ferrand,
the villain Ferrand, too surely has her in his power! But I will
instantly go to the grove, despite of his uncle's prohibition, and force
the truth from him."
He turned into a path which conducted to the Governor's seat, and Sir
Henry, after a moment's hesitation, followed him. "I will go with you,
Harland," he said; "if Louise be secreted at the Grove, my assistance
may be requisite; and the Governor, in that respect, I doubt not, will
pardon our transgressing the bounds he has prescribed. If she be not, my
presence will be equally necessary, as your passion may otherwise hurry
you into too great excesses."
They were here interrupted by the appearance of a skirmish in an
adjoining enclosure; and, on their nearer approach, beheld an old negro
defending himself with a stake against four others who were armed. The
odds were too great to demand a moment's hesitation how to act: they
hastened to his rescue, and, after a slight contest, compelled their
opponents to retreat. Sir Henry then directed his attention to the old
man, who had fallen to the ground apparently lifeless.
"The poor wretch, I believe, is dying," said Harland, as he assisted Sir
Henry to raise him, "and here no assistance can be had." Sir Henry
supported him against his knee. The negro faintly opened his eyes, and
regarded them with a wild surprise, which, as recollection returned,
gradually settled to a look of stern ferocity.
"How can we remove him?" said Sir Henry, "To leave him thus is
impossible."
"To take him with us is equally impossible," answered Harland,
impatiently, "and the day, Corbet, wears apace."
"Yet cannot I leave him to perish," said Sir Henry. "Try, my good
fellow, if you can walk or stand."
"Let me die where I am," answered the negro sullenly.
"Leave him--leave him, Sir Henry," exclaimed Harland; "Louise is of more
consequence than a worthless runaway slave, for such I am certain he is;
and to her, I think, a brother's hand ought to be extended."
"And shall be, Harland," said Sir Henry, with emotion. "Yet, as a man,
is this slave my brother, and to him shall my hand be extended also. I
feel the weight of his afflictions, the misery of his life passed in
slavery; and, with him, could curse the hand that first forged chains
for a fellow-creature!--A few minutes, and he may be better; and we will
then prosecute our search for my unfortunate Louise."
During this speech the old negro had raised himself from the knee of Sir
Henry, and grasped his arm, with that anxious confidence the unhappy
only can feel when relieved by the hand of benevolence; each word struck
as a chord on his heart, and told him he was supported by a
friend.--"Seek you Louise de St. Ursule?" he hesitatingly asked. The
quick ear of Harland caught the sound, and, springing toward him, he
demanded if he knew aught of Louise? "I do," answered the slave, with
reserve, "and if this European seek her, will direct him to her."
"Tell me this instant," said Harland; "on your life I charge you!"
"You may take it, if you please," said the negro coolly, "and afterward
find her if you can. I am a slave, and, as you said, a runaway! If I
discover the European woman to you, in return, perhaps, you would
deliver me to a merciless master, to expire beneath the whip."
Harland deserved not the supposition; cruelty formed no part of his
character, though truly the child of pride. Unused to entreat, he had
demanded the information he would not have regretted half his fortune to
have obtained. The answer of the slave stung him to the heart; and,
though Louise was at stake, he would have retorted with the wildest
acrimony, had not Sir Henry prevented him, by saying to the slave--"If
you be the means of restoring Louise to us, I promise to procure your
pardon, if the interest of the Governor can effect it; and your liberty,
if your owner will dispose of you."
The slave half rose, looked wistfully in the face of Sir Henry: the name
of liberty sounded sweetly on his ear, and made his heart beat with
unwonted velocity. Yet a momentary doubt shot across his brain. Mankind
had ever been his enemy; could he then give credit to the flattering
promise?--The countenance of Sir Henry beamed with philanthropy and
truth; suspicion vanished; and, rising from the ground, he cried--"I
will believe you.--Pursue the path you are in, and I will conduct you to
her."
"You forget your late accident," said Sir Henry; "let me assist you."
"I am, I believe," said the old man, "more capable of walking than you.
Slavery has inured me to fatigue. Neither am I materially hurt. I was
exhausted when you came to my assistance, and stunned by the last blow I
received. But your timely interposition saved my life, and freely now
shall you command it."
He conducted them, by private paths, to a plantation near Ferrand Grove;
in which, after some time, he pointed out a small cottage, so concealed
by the foliage that it might have escaped the eyes of a casual
observer.--"I can proceed no farther," he said, "without danger of being
seen and retaken, which would inevitably bring me to a merciless death.
There is the cottage I yester-evening fled from; and there is Louise de
St. Ursule confined."
Harland heard no more, but rushed through a gateway which opened to the
cottage. The soft voice of Louise, broken by a plaintive sob, reached
his ear; and, a moment after, that of Ferrand, speaking in a threatening
tone. With a resistless force, the maddened effort of the moment, he
burst the door, and the next instant brought him to the presence of
Louise and his rival.
Ferrand started at the unexpected apparition, but drew his sword,
perceiving the point of Harland's already at his breast; whilst Louise,
with a scream of mingled joy and terror, attempted to throw herself into
the protecting arms of her lover; but was withheld by one of Ferrand's
attendants, who, recalling to mind his master's assailant, endeavoured
to force her to the interior part of the cottage. In this he was
prevented by Sir Henry, who had followed Harland, and who now sprung to
the rescue of his sister. A few minutes would have decided the conflict
in favour of the adventurers, but the domestics, alarmed by the tumult
and the screams of Louise, hastened to the assistance of their master.
They were, therefore, obliged to act on the defensive; and, to add to
their distress, Louise, after vainly struggling for emancipation, sunk
senseless at the feet of Ferrand. Another moment and she had been torn
from their sight; when Ferrand, thrown off his guard by her fall,
received a wound from Harland: he staggered--and the servant, who was
raising the fair cause of the contention, extended his arm to save his
master. It was a moment granted by fortune. Quick as lightning Sir Henry
tore her from him, and, defended by Harland, conveyed her out of the
cottage. By the time they had passed the gate, Ferrand, however, was
sufficiently recovered to order the servants, who had officiously
attended to him, to pursue them, and force Louise back. They hastened to
execute his commands, but the narrowness of the path prevented their
passing to impede the flight of the fugitives. The sword of Harland was
opposed to those who first presented themselves; but fearing they would
force their way through the underwood, and thus surround them, he
hastily bade Sir Henry--save Louise! Sir Henry, accordingly, after an
anxious but vain look for the old negro, and desiring the Lieutenant to
follow him, entered the nearly trackless path by which they had been
conducted to the cottage.
Louise soon revived; and, after a few incoherent exclamations of joy,
and thankfulness at her deliverance, anxiously inquired after Harland.
"I hope in a few minutes he will join us," answered Sir Henry. But
scarcely were the words pronounced when they heard a violent tumult, and
immediately after distinguished the voice of Ferrand, commanding his
people to pursue Louise. His anxiety for George was instantly absorbed
in apprehension for the safety of his sister, and, supporting her on his
arm, they again fled.
Night soon concealed them from farther danger, and the hapless Harland
retook possession of their imaginations. The timid Louise, with tearful
eyes, endeavoured to pierce through the gloom, or entreated Sir Henry to
stop and listen if perchance his distant footfall, or voice, could be
heard. But all was silent--and busy fancy quickly portrayed him as
sinking beneath the vengeance of his furious rival. Sir Henry's thoughts
did not present a more cheerful picture; he entertained not a doubt but
Ferrand had overpowered the Lieutenant; and an idea of assassination
presented itself to his imagination, which the ferocious character of
the East-Indian but too justly authorised. Could he have left Louise, he
would instantly have retraced his way to the cottage, but no friendly
roof presented itself which might have afforded shelter for the lovely
maid; he had therefore no alternative but to proceed, though every nerve
trembling with anxiety to return and aid the unfortunate Lieutenant.
It was nearly the hour of midnight when they arrived at the
Marchioness's, where Louise had again the satisfaction of being folded
to the bosom of her generous benefactress. An inquiry after Harland
followed the embrace. The tears of Louise informed her some accident had
happened; and, on her applying to Sir Henry for an explanation, he gave
a concise relation of the evening's adventures; at the same time
declaring his intention of instantly returning. The Marchioness could
not oppose his determination, but applied herself to console Louise, who
appeared nearly overpowered by her emotions.
Sir Henry advanced to her, and tenderly taking her hand--"Indulge not
this immoderate grief, my dear girl, which can only add to our present
distress. Summon your fortitude. George may be wounded--he may be
overpowered; or, which is most probable, he may have missed his way in
the plantations. I yesterday, my dear girl, despaired of ever beholding
you again; yet, when least expected, Providence conducted us to you.
Hope, then, for the best. I will proceed, with the utmost expedition, to
his assistance, if he need it: and if our fears are prophetic--but you
must not indulge the idea.--Harland shall live, and live to bless my
Louise!"
The enthusiasm with which Sir Henry pronounced the last sentence,
imparted a hope to the heart of Louise, he dared not himself indulge.
She faintly smiled through her tears: Sir Henry again repeated--"Hope
for the best!" and was hastening out of the room, when a loud peal at
the outward door arrested his steps, and, the minute after, Harland,
with breathless impatience, rushed into the room, followed by the old
Negro.
"My dearest, loveliest girl!" he exclaimed, clasping the delighted
Louise to his bosom; "am I again so blessed as to behold you?--Nor will
I part from you again, my Louise, till the Church's sanction has placed
it beyond the power of aught but death to separate us!"
"But you are wounded, Harland," said the Marchioness anxiously; "let me
procure you some assistance."
Harland, indeed, had forgotten his wounds, and the joy Louise at first
experienced on seeing him, prevented her observing his pallid
countenance, or the blood which had stained his clothes. She now with
trembling lips joined in the Marchioness's request, that a surgeon might
be sent for. Harland complied,--"though the hurts I have received," he
continued, "are not such as to require a moment's consideration. But the
dastardly villain, Sir Henry, who inflicted them, shall yet feel the
power of my arm!"
The last words were uttered with a vehemence which declared Ferrand not
only the man alluded to, but that he had been guilty of some atrocity
they were as yet unacquainted with.
"Ah, Harland!" sighed Louise, "if you have any regard for my peace,
resign all thoughts of revenge, in which perhaps yourself, not Ferrand,
might become the victim!"
"In every other circumstance of my life," said Harland, "Louise shall be
my monitor; but I cannot tamely pass by the injuries I have received. To
Sir Henry I am indebted for your preservation--to yonder slave for my
own!--Not two hours since he saved me from the assassin's hand!"
The countenance of Louise assumed a paler hue at this relation.--"Yonder
slave!" she faintly repeated.--"It is the villain who forced me to the
cottage of Ferrand."
The old slave, who had hitherto remained near the door, now
advanced:--"I am, it is true, Madam," he said, "the man who, by the
commands of an imperious master, took you from your friends: yet am I
not deserving the name of villain! The slave--but not the man, was
guilty of the action!--By preserving you from dishonour, I incurred the
usage which drove me a naked fugitive from my ancient home. These
Europeans saved me from a cruel death, and promised the richest reward a
wretched slave could receive, if I would conduct them to you. I did
more--and let the action prove a Negro's soul to be susceptible of
gratitude!"
Louise blushed her recantation of the sentiments she had entertained
respecting the slave. "You have raised my curiosity," said the
Marchioness, "to the highest degree: but as I am certain my Louise, and
you, my young friends, are greatly in need of repose; I will repress it
till the morning, when I shall expect to have it gratified by an ample
relation of every incident."
Louise thankfully acceded to the Marchioness's proposal of retiring, and
again took possession of her former apartment; whither one of the
Marchioness's daughters accompanied her, that no farther attempt might
be made, without the knowledge of the family or the means of assistance.
Harland likewise, after a surgeon had attended him, retired, as did Sir
Henry, to the apartments which had been prepared for them, and where
repose, the sweetest they had long experienced, rewarded them for the
toils and anxieties of the day.
It was late in the morning when they assembled at the breakfast-table;
where the Captain and Frederick, having been previously informed of the
successful termination of Sir Henry and Harland's search, attended them.
Mutual compliments and congratulations passed, and after breakfast the
Marchioness reminded them of the last night's arrangement, and Louise
began her relation, as follows:
"I had not, my dear Madam, retired many minutes to my apartment, on the
night I was forced away, when Rachel, (who has chiefly attended on me
since our arrival in St. Helena) after apologizing for the liberty she
was going to take, with a well-counterfeited appearance of concern,
began to relate a tale of a distressed family, highly deserving, she
said, of compassion and relief, who wished to apply for your
beneficence, but wanted a friend to speak for them: and, knowing my
influence, she had given her word, she said, to ask my assistance.
"I inquired more particularly into the nature of their distress; and she
so insensibly engaged my attention by her interesting but artful tale,
that the time passed unheeded till long after the usual hour of repose.
I was first recalled to a sense of my improper conduct, by a light
footstep on the outside of my apartment. Unsuspicious of danger, I was
hastening to see who it was, and to apologize, if by my heedlessness I
had disturbed any part of the family; when two men entered the room, and
before I could call for help, Rachel threw a handkerchief over my head,
which she tied so securely across my mouth, that the power of speech was
entirely prevented. My struggles were equally inefficacious: my hands
and feet were bound, and I was then carried silently down the stairs,
and conveyed to the cottage of Ferrand; where freeing me from my bonds,
they left me to reflections painful in the highest degree. The idea that
they designed to murder me, which had taken possession of my mind on our
first entrance into the plantation, then gave place to fears far better
founded, and I dreaded the moment which would bring Ferrand to my sight.
"An old female soon attended, to show me to a chamber: I endeavoured to
interest her in my favour, and to prevail on her to aid me in returning
to my friends. But she heard me with indifference, spoke in praise of
Ferrand, who, she said, would visit me in the evening, and, advising me
to seek repose, again left me. Thankful, and somewhat easier by hearing
Ferrand was not under the same roof with me, I determined to take
advantage of the respite allowed, and if possible effect my escape. I
hastened to the window--it was secured by strong iron bars, and the door
had been locked and bolted on the outside by my female gaoler.
Disappointed in the faint hope I entertained of liberty, I yielded to a
momentary despair, and, bursting into tears, threw myself on the bed.
Reflection, however, soon showed me the inutility of my grief: many
hours were to pass before Ferrand would come to the cottage; I therefore
endeavoured to calm my agitation, that I might, if possible, meet him
with firmness and resolution. Then again I dreaded the uncontrolled
licence of his passions, or that Harland or my brother, learning who had
taken me away, might be involved in a quarrel, which would terminate in
the loss of their lives.
"It was noon when my attendant entered with refreshments; and a smile, I
thought truly demoniacal, played on her features as she again launched
out in praise of her master, and the happy life I might lead if I were
but compliant with his wishes. I listened to her in silence, as my
spirits were too dejected to permit my answering her; and she left me, I
believe highly satisfied with her own eloquence. The afternoon passed
comfortless; evening arrived; and I was forced from reflections on a
more deserving lover, to the presence of Ferrand. He accosted me with an
exultation and assurance that implied he thought the conquest over me
completely gained, by the success of his stratagem: he did not,
therefore, patiently listen to my reproaches and animadversions on his
conduct; but, after a violent paroxysm of passion, reminded me he was
then the master of my fate. He was willing, he said, to join his destiny
with mine by a lawful union; but, if I rejected his offer, I must answer
to myself for any measures he might pursue. I could not conceal the
terror occasioned by this declaration; the courage I at first exerted
forsook me, and tears and entreaties were my only defence. The next day,
and the next, passed with little variation; Ferrand sometimes strove to
soothe, but more often to terrify me to compliance. The third evening a
violent bustle in the lower rooms raised my hopes that my brother and
Harland had gained intelligence of my prison, and were come to my
deliverance. With a throbbing heart I listened to catch the welcome
sound of their voices; but the tumult gradually ceased; all became
quiet; and I was obliged to resign myself to a state rendered more
horrid by the short-lived but sanguine hope I had indulged of
liberation.
"I did not see Ferrand again till late the next day; when he informed me
the fleets had sailed, and that Harland and my friends had left the
island. I cannot attempt to describe the agony of mind I endured on
receiving this intelligence. He renewed his offer of immediate marriage,
but I turned from him with horror. My sorrow renewed his anger; he
repeated his threats--declared he would grant me only till the morning
to determine whether I would accept his honourable proposal, or submit
to a state of infamy; and was proceeding in his invectives, when the
door was burst from its hinges, and the entrance of my Harland and Sir
Henry proved the falsity of Ferrand's report, and changed my sorrow to
joy."