THE OATH.
Dr. Lascelles was at home, and immediately granted an audience to the
Earl of Ellingham.
Popular physicians are potentates in their way, and access to them, save
on matters of professional business, is frequently difficult.
But the doctor had taken a greater fancy to the young nobleman than he
was ever known to entertain for any of his acquaintances; and he
therefore received him as one who did not encroach on his very valuable
time.
"Well," said the physician, as the Earl made his appearance in the
professional reception-room, "something new about Lady Hatfield, I'll be
bound?"
"You are right, my dear doctor," answered the lover: "and I am the
happiest of men."
"I am charmed to hear it," said Lascelles, casting a glance of
curiosity, not unmingled with surprise, towards the Earl.
"Yes, doctor," cried the latter, his handsome countenance irradiated
with the lustre of complete felicity, "the beautiful Georgiana has
consented to become my wife."
"Your wife!" ejaculated the physician.
"And wherefore not?" asked the Earl, astonished at the tone and manner
of his friend. "Do you think that I will allow what must be considered a
misfortune to stand in the way of my happiness?"
"Certainly—if you can rise superior to a prejudice which influences the
generality of the world," said the physician, thrown off his guard by
Lord Ellingham's last observation. "I do not see——"
"Ah! then you also know all?" ejaculated the Earl. "But let us not dwell
on this topic. Suffice it that I have heard from Sir Ralph Walsingham
enough to convince me that his niece is to be commiserated in a certain
respect; and I have had a full explanation with her on the subject. In a
few weeks she will be Lady Ellingham; and it shall be my duty—as it will
also prove my delight—to make her so completely happy that she shall
forget the incident which has had so powerful an effect upon her mind."
"I sincerely wish you all possible felicity, my dear Earl," said the
doctor, shaking the young nobleman warmly by the hand.
"A thousand thanks, doctor," exclaimed Arthur, cordially returning the
pressure. "But how became you acquainted with that incident in
Georgiana's life which has exercised such influence over her? I thought
you told me yesterday that she had not entered into any explanations
with you?"
"Neither had she—nor has she, my dear lord," observed the physician, who
seemed slightly surprised, if not puzzled, by the observations of his
young friend. "But—as you yourself ere now said—let us not dwell on that
topic;—it is of too delicate a nature."
"It _is_ delicate, my dear doctor," responded the Earl. "But as I am my
own master, and labour not under the necessity of consulting my
relatives as to those proceedings which are connected with my interest
or happiness——"
"Oh! certainly," said the doctor. "You love Lady Hatfield—and she loves
you in return. It is quite natural. I have known many such cases—more,
perhaps, than you could imagine."
"I do not doubt you," replied the Earl. "But I will not longer intrude
on your valuable time," he added, smiling; "for I know that you are not
in the habit of receiving visits of a merely friendly nature at this
period of the day."
"To you only am I accessible on such terms," replied the physician.
The Earl then took his leave, and was about to return home, when he
bethought himself of the strange communication he had received from Mr.
Gordon, the diamond-merchant; and, as the weather was fine and frosty,
he determined to walk as far as the residence of Mr. de Medina in Great
Ormond Street.
On his arrival at that gentleman's house, he found the servant standing
at the front-door in the act of receiving some articles from a
tradesman's boy; and this trivial fact is only recorded, inasmuch as it
explains the reason how Lord Ellingham ascended to the drawing-room
without being duly announced. He considered himself to be on terms of
sufficient intimacy with Mr. de Medina to take such a liberty; and when
the domestic made a movement to conduct him up stairs, Arthur desired
him in a condescending manner not to take the trouble, as he knew the
way.
Accordingly, the Earl proceeded to the drawing-room, where he did not,
however, find Mr. de Medina and his daughter, although, from the
statement of the servant, he had expected to meet them there.
The floor was spread with a thick, rich Turkey carpet, on which his
footsteps fell noiselessly. He was about to seat himself, when voices in
the adjoining apartment, which was only separated from the drawing-room
by folding-doors, met his ears.
"Esther," said Mr. de Medina, speaking in an earnest and solemn tone,
"this is the third anniversary of that dreadful day which——"
"Oh! do not refer more than is necessary to that sad event, dear
father!" exclaimed the Jewess, in an imploring voice.
"Heaven knows, my child," responded her sire, "that—if you feel as I
do——"
"I do—I do, dearest father!" cried Esther.
"Yes:—but not all the degradation—the infamy—the shame——"
"All—all, father,—even as acutely as yourself!" she said, in a voice
denoting the most intense anguish.
"And yet, undutiful girl that you are," exclaimed Mr. de Medina, "you
persist in seeing that lost—abandoned——"
The sudden rattling of a carriage in the street drowned the remainder of
this sentence.
"Oh! my dearest father, forgive me!" cried Esther in a tone of the most
earnest appeal. "You cannot imagine the extent of my love—my boundless
love—for that unfortunate——"
"Unfortunate!" repeated Mr. de Medina angrily: "no—no! Say that most
wretched—guilty—criminal——"
"My God! use not such harsh terms!" almost shrieked the beautiful
Jewess; and the Earl of Ellingham could judge by the sound that she fell
upon her knees as she spoke.
"Yes—Esther—on your knees implore my forgiveness for your oft-repeated
disobedience!" exclaimed Mr. de Medina. "Consider, undutiful—ungrateful
girl—of the position—the scandalous, disgraceful position in which you
were placed a few days ago. That ring which was sold to the
diamond-merchant——"
"Pardon me, dearest father—oh! pardon me!" cried the young lady, her
voice becoming wildly hysterical.
Again a vehicle rolled along the street; and of the Jew's reply all that
the Earl could distinguish were the words——"those diamonds, Esther—the
theft of those diamonds! Oh! my God—I shall yet go mad with the dreadful
thought!"
"Oh! this is cruel—most cruel, after all I have suffered!" cried Esther.
"Wherefore revive those terrible reproaches now? Say—speak, father—what
do you require of me? wherefore this conversation?"
"Again I must remind you," answered Mr. de Medina solemnly, "that this
is the third anniversary of that day——"
"I know it—I know it? Oh! how can I ever forget it?" said Esther in a
tone of the most painful emotion.
"And now," continued Mr. de Medina, apparently but little moved by his
daughter's grief,—"now must you swear, Esther—upon that book which
contains the principles of our creed—that you will never, under any
circumstances——"
Mr. de Medina here sank his voice to so low a tone, that the Earl could
only catch a few disjointed phrases, such as these—"renew your connexion
with——acknowledge that——such infamy and disgrace——honoured
name——family——seduced my daughter——robbed her of her purity——although
the world may not suspect——degradation on yourself——discard you for
ever——Thomas Rainford——"
"I swear!" said Esther, in a tone which led the Earl to imagine that she
took the proscribed oath with a dreadful shudder.
"And now rise," exclaimed Mr. de Medina. "It is over."
These words suddenly awoke the Earl to a consciousness of his position:
and his face became scarlet as the thought flashed upon his mind that he
had been playing the part of an eaves-dropper. He despised himself for
having listened to the dialogue between Mr. de Medina and his daughter:
but his attention had been so completely rivetted to this
strange—mysterious—and exciting conversation, that he had unwittingly
remained a hearer. An invisible spell had nailed him as it were to the
spot—had forced him to linger and drink in that discourse which, alas!
appeared to speak so eloquently to the discredit of her whose character
he had so warmly defended two hours before!
And now, suddenly awaking—as we said—to a sense of his position, he
perceived that a subterfuge could alone save him from the imputation of
being an eaves-dropper: and to that subterfuge was this really
noble-minded peer compelled to stoop.
Hastily stepping to the drawing-room door, he opened it and closed it
again with unusual violence, so that the sound might fall upon the ears
of Mr. de Medina and Esther, and induce them to believe that he had only
just entered the room.
The stratagem succeeded; for Mr. de Medina immediately made his
appearance from the inner apartment, and welcomed the Earl with his
wonted calmness of manner.
In reply to Arthur's polite inquiries relative to Miss de Medina, the
father replied that his daughter was somewhat indisposed, and hoped the
Earl would excuse her absence.
A quarter of an hour passed in conversation of no particular interest to
the reader; and Lord Ellingham then took his leave.
When he found himself once more in the open street, he could scarcely
believe that he was not the sport of some wild and delusive dream. Had
he heard aright? or had his ears beguiled him? Was it true that all
those reproaches had been levelled by an angry father at the head of a
daughter who did not attempt to deny her guilt, but who was compelled to
implore that outraged parent's forgiveness? Had he not prescribed to her
an oath which seemed to imply, in plain terms,—although the Earl had
caught but detached portions,—that Esther had been seduced—robbed of her
purity,—and that the villain was one Thomas Rainford? Had not that oath
been administered for the purpose of binding her to break off her
connexion with this Thomas Rainford? And did not Mr. de Medina assure
her that, though the world might not suspect it, yet she had not the
less brought degradation on herself? In fine—did not the angry father
threaten to discard her for ever, unless she swore to obey his
injunctions?
In what other way could the blanks in the terms of the oath—as Ellingham
had gathered them by means of the few but significant disjointed
passages thereof,—in what other way could those blanks be filled up than
in the manner above detailed?
"It is too apparent!" thought the Earl within himself: "and Esther is an
abandoned—lost—degraded girl! And yet how deceptive is her
appearance—how delusive her demeanour! Purity seems to be expressed in
every glance:—innocence characterises every word she utters! Merciful
heavens! what must I think of the female sex after such a discovery as
this? And yet, let me not judge harshly of the whole, because _one_ is
frail. My own Georgiana is quite different from that artful hypocrite,
Esther de Medina. Georgiana conceals not a tainted soul beneath a chaste
exterior: she is purity in mind as well as in appearance. And, after
all, Esther _did_ steal the diamonds: her father upbraided her with the
theft! He even alluded to the ring which she sold to Mr. Gordon. Yes—it
is indeed too apparent: she is utterly depraved! But that name of
_Thomas Rainford_—surely I have heard it before?"
The Earl strove to recollect himself.
"Oh! I remember now!" he thought at the expiration of a few moments: "it
was Thomas Rainford who was accused of robbing my Georgiana on the
highway! How strange is this coincidence! And yet it was _not_ that man
who plundered her—for she proved his innocence of at least this
imputation. But it was doubtless Rainford who sent me the letter
desiring me to appear in the defence of Esther; and it must also have
been he who restored the diamonds to the merchant! That Esther stole
those diamonds is clear—for her father accused her of it. At least such
is the inference that must be drawn from his words. But that Gordon was
wrong as to the day, or the hour of the day on which the theft was
committed, is also clear; inasmuch as Esther was at Finchley at the time
stated! Still Gordon was so positive—and, when he appeared to prosecute
the Jewess at the police-office, so short a time had elapsed—only a few
hours, indeed—since the act was perpetrated, that it is difficult to
believe how he could have mistaken the date! There is a mystery yet
attending on this affair;—but that its elucidation would establish
Esther's innocence, cannot for a moment be believed!"
Such was the train of thought into which the Earl of Ellingham was
naturally led by the dialogue he had overheard between the Jew and his
daughter.
He was sincerely grieved to be forced to come to the conviction that
Esther de Medina was a lost and ruined girl, instead of the pure and
artless being he had previously believed her to be. Although his
affections were undividedly Georgiana's, yet he had entertained a
sentiment of friendship for the Jewess; and he was pained and shocked to
think that he had ever experienced any interest—even the slightest—in a
female so utterly unworthy his notice. For the father he still felt
respect, which was also now blended with profound commiseration; for he
beheld in him an honest and honourable man, who was cursed with a
daughter characterised by bad passions and evil propensities.
The Earl was well aware that Mr. de Medina was a very rich man: he could
not therefore suppose that necessity had induced Esther either to
dispose of the ring or to steal the jewels. What, then, could he
conclude? That she required funds to support a worthless, abandoned, and
lost man—her paramour! Hence the sale of the ring—hence the theft of the
diamonds.
Arthur now remembered his promise to Mr. Gordon to make him acquainted
with any particulars which he might discover relative to that business.
But how could he fulfil his pledge? He shrank from the contemplation of
the circumstance which had made him acquainted with Esther's guilt: he
felt annoyed and vexed with himself for having allowed his curiosity so
far to dominate his honourable principles as to render him an
eaves-dropper. He would not therefore aggravate his offence by imparting
its results to another; and, with an endeavour to banish the subject
from his memory and turn his attention to more pleasurable topics, he
hastily pursued his way homeward.