THE PARAGRAPH IN THE NEWSPAPER.
Having partaken of a good dinner and imbibed a glass or two of wine, Tom
Rain returned to the perusal of the Sunday newspaper, which he had
brought with him to his old lodgings; for the highwayman loved a
newspaper dearly—especially the police reports and Old Bailey trials.
But as his eye glanced down a column principally devoted to "Fashionable
Intelligence," he was struck with mingled horror and astonishment by the
ensuing announcement:—
"It is rumoured that the young and wealthy Earl of Ellingham will
shortly lead to the hymeneal altar, the beautiful and accomplished
Lady Hatfield. Her ladyship is a peeress in her own right, that
distinction having been conferred upon her in consequence of the
eminent services of her ladyship's deceased father."
Tom Rain was absolutely stupefied by this paragraph:—so stupefied,
indeed, that he sate gazing upon it in a species of vacant
wonderment,—not starting, nor uttering any ejaculation—so that neither
the Jewess nor Charley Watts, who were both in the room, noticed his
emotion.
At length he recovered himself, and read and reread the paragraph until
he could have repeated it by heart.
The shades of evening were gathering fast over this hemisphere; and he
had therefore now a good excuse for going out—for that announcement in
the Sunday paper had produced such an effect upon him that he felt he
could not rest until he had performed a duty—an imperious but most
painful duty!
[Illustration]
Having hastily arranged his toilette in the bed-room up stairs, and put
on a dark upper coat and a large woollen "comforter," he sallied
forth—but not without having previously kissed both the Jewess and
little Charley.
At the nearest coach-stand he entered a hack-vehicle, and ordered the
driver to take him to the residence of Lady Hatfield, in Piccadilly.
But ere the coach arrived quite opposite the front door of the fair
patrician's abode, Rainford alighted, and dismissed the vehicle.
Then he advanced to the house:—but it was with the step of a man who
would rather—oh! a thousand times rather—have fled in any other
direction.
His hand was on the knocker, and he hesitated,—yes, he hesitated; and
that hand trembled.
It must have been some powerful cause that could have made the
gallant—dauntless—almost hair-brained Tom Rain manifest so much emotion.
But at length the summons was given; and a livery-servant opened the
door.
To Rainford's inquiry whether Lady Hatfield were at home, an affirmative
answer was given.
"Say to your mistress," returned the highwayman, "that a person wishes
to speak to her upon very particular business—and do me the favour to
show me to a room where I can see her ladyship alone."
The servant hesitated a moment—for the excited tone in which the request
was made somewhat surprised him. But remembering that it was not his
business to question his lady's visitors, he conducted Rainford into a
parlour where a fire was burning in the grate; and, having lighted the
candles, the domestic retired to deliver to Lady Hatfield the message
which he had received.
The few minutes which elapsed ere the door of that room again opened,
seemed like an age to Tom Rain. He first sate down: then he rose again
and stood before the fire in a state of extraordinary nervousness. In
fact, he appeared perfectly unmanned.
We can conceive the feelings of appalling doubt—hope mingled with
terrific fear—and agonising suspense, that must be experienced by an
individual accused of a capital crime, and awaiting in the dock the
return of the jury in whose hands are his life and death.
Such was the state of Tom Rain during the five mortal minutes that
elapsed ere the door again opened.
At length it _did_ open—and, though he had his back turned towards it,
yet the rustling of silk and a light, airy tread convinced him that the
lady of the house was now in that room.
He turned: the light streamed full upon his countenance—for he had laid
aside his hat and woollen comforter; and Lady Hatfield—for it was
she—uttered a faint scream as her eyes met his.
"Pardon this intrusion—fear me not _now_, my lady!" exclaimed Rainford
hastily: "but grant me five minutes' attention, I implore you—not for
_my_ sake—for _yours_!"
Georgiana had started back, and had become pale as death when she
recognised the highwayman: but even while he was yet speaking, she
recovered herself sufficiently to approach the spot where he was
standing.
Then, without sitting down—but leaning her arm upon the mantelpiece, as
if for support—she said in a hoarse and hollow tone, "My God! what would
you with me?"
"Lady Hatfield," returned Rainford, in a mournful and even solemn tone,
"forget the _past_—if you can—for a few minutes——"
"Forget the past!" repealed Georgiana hysterically, her whole frame
convulsed with horror. "Oh! terrible man, wherefore have you come
hither? have you not injured me enough? what do you now seek?—_my
life?_"
And, as she uttered these last words, the syllables seemed to hiss
between her set teeth—and her bosom heaved and fell rapidly with
spasmodic palpitation.
"Listen to me, madam—I implore you!" exclaimed Rainford, cruelly
perplexed and deeply touched by the agonising emotions which his
presence occasioned. "I know that the sight of me must be
abhorrent—loathsome to you; but it will be your fault if our interview
is protracted beyond the few minutes which I ask you to grant me."
"Speak, sir—speak quickly!" cried Georgiana hysterically. "But mark me,
sir," she added in a firmer and more resolute tone, while her usually
placid glances seemed to glare with deadly hatred against the
highwayman,—"mark me," she repeated—"if your intention be to coerce me
again to commit a crime for your sake, you will not succeed. But a few
days have elapsed since the stain of perjury—rank, abhorrent perjury—was
fastened on my soul—and to save _you_! Oh! that I could have been so
weak as to yield to your insolent command to swear to that which was
false—atrociously, vilely false, at the bar of justice! And now proceed,
sir, with the business which has brought you hither!"
"Lady Hatfield—I cannot, I dare not explain myself, while you labour
under this dreadful excitement!" said Rainford, himself painfully
excited. "Calm yourself, I implore you—for what I have to say most
nearly concerns your interests."
"_My_ interests!" repeated Georgiana in a sorrowful voice. "But
proceed—go on, sir:—I _will_ be calm."
"I observed in a newspaper of this day's date," continued Rainford,
"that your ladyship is about to become the wife of the Earl of
Ellingham."
Lady Hatfield gazed upon the highwayman in that vacant manner which left
it doubtful whether she were the prey to feelings of surprise—terror—or
despair.
"And if that rumour be true, my lady," added Rainford, after a moment's
pause, "I would have you reflect on the propriety of this matrimonial
connexion."
"My God! he assumes a right to dictate to me!" almost shrieked
Georgiana, as she sank back upon a sofa, clasping her hands together in
the excess of her mental anguish.
"No—my lady—not to dictate!" said Rainford. "I have not a shadow of a
right to do that: it were the height of madness—the height of
presumption—an insolence beyond all parallel on my part—in fact a deed
so monstrously inconsistent with even common sense——"
"That you are surprised I should have entertained the idea?" added
Georgiana, with an irony and bitterness which seemed lent her by
despair.
"My God! I foresaw all the terrors of this interview!" exclaimed
Rainford with feverish impatience.
"Then wherefore did you come?" demanded Georgiana. "Is it to expose
me—to persecute _me_ who have never offended _you_, but who have
suffered so deeply—deeply——"
"Madam, I came to perform a painful duty," interrupted the highwayman;
"and the sooner I accomplish it the better. Oh! you know not—you will
not give me credit for the ineffable pity—the profound commiseration
which I feel for you,—as well as the loathing—the abhorrence—the
shame—the disgust in which I hold myself:—but I cannot recall the past.
Would to God that I could!"
"Then you mean me no harm?" exclaimed Georgiana eagerly.
"Mean you harm, madam!" repeated Rainford enthusiastically: "merciful
heavens! if to mitigate one single pang of the many—many with which your
breast must throb, poor innocent sufferer that you are—a sufferer
through my detestable crime,—if to relieve you of any portion of the
load that weighs upon your mind—were that portion no heavier than a
hair,—if to do this my life would suffice, I would lay it down, madam,
at your feet! Think you that I glory in what I have done? No—no: bad as
I am—criminal as I am—robber, plunderer as I am, and as you know me to
be,—yet I have feelings—aye, and a conscience too! And, often—often, my
lady, when the smile is upon my lip, that conscience is gnawing my
heart's core—for I think of _you_! And all this is true as God's own
justice is true,—true as that you are an innocent and a noble lady, and
that I am a despicable villain!"
And Tom Rain—the gallant, dashing, almost hair-brained Tom Rain—burst
into tears.
Georgiana gazed upon him in astonishment—in profound astonishment; and
she was softened towards that bold and desperate man who wept on her
account!
"But wherefore have you sought me this evening?" she said, in a milder
and more gentle tone than she had yet used during this remarkable—this
solemnly interesting meeting.
"It is not to demand your pardon, madam," returned Rainford, dashing
away the tears from his manly countenance; "because _that_ you can never
give! It is not to assert any presumed right to dictate to you in
respect to your marriage, because _that_ were adding the most flagrant
cruelty to the most atrocious wrong. But it is to inform your ladyship
that if you contract this marriage with the Earl of Ellingham, you wed
one who is——"
"Who is what?" gasped Georgiana, almost suffocating.
Rainford paused for a few moments: it required these few moments to
enable him to conquer emotions of so terrible a nature that they almost
choked his powers of utterance:—then, bending down until his very lips
touched Georgiana's ear, and his hair mingled with hers, he whispered a
few words in a faint and scarcely audible tone.
But she heard them plainly—oh! far too plainly: and when he withdrew his
face from its proximity to her head, and glanced upon her countenance,
he saw, with feelings awfully shocked, that she sate mute—motionless—the
image of despair.
Alas! she spoke not—she looked neither to the right nor to the left: her
eyes seemed to be fixed upon the face of the highwayman;—and yet she saw
him not—she was gazing on vacancy.
This dreadful state of stupefaction—the paralysis of despair—lasted for
upwards of three minutes,—a perfect age alike to her who endured, and to
him who beheld it.
Then suddenly burst from Lady Hatfield's lips a long—loud—piercing
scream,—a scream so appalling that the very house appeared to shake with
the vibration of the air which was cut by that shriek as by a keen-edged
sword.
"Merciful God! the whole place will be alarmed!" ejaculated the
highwayman. "Compose yourself, madam——"
But vainly did he thus address himself to the unhappy Georgiana: she had
fallen back insensible upon the sofa.
The door opened abruptly; but Tom Rain was rooted to the spot where he
stood gazing on the motionless form of that wretched lady,—stood gazing
too in horrified amazement at the effect which his whispered words had
produced.
The scream to which Lady Hatfield had given vent in the paroxysm of her
ineffable anguish, had reached the ears not only of the domestics in the
kitchen but also of the company in the drawing-room—for there were
guests that evening at Georgiana's residence.
Thus, when the door burst open, a crowd of persons poured in,—Lord
Ellingham, Dr. Lascelles, Sir Ralph Walsingham, three or four ladies,
and all the servants.
Miss Mordaunt, we should observe, was no longer an inmate of Lady
Hatfield's abode—for reasons that will be explained hereafter.
Lord Ellingham was the foremost of the crowd; and the first object that
met his eyes, as he rushed into the room, was his Georgiana stretched
senseless on the sofa. He saw a man standing near, but did not pause to
cast a second glance upon him: the state in which he found his beloved
engrossed all his thoughts.
He raised her in his arms—the ladies produced their smelling-bottles—the
female servants hastened to fetch water, vinegar, and anything else that
struck them as useful under the circumstances—and Dr. Lascelles, who
_had_ recognised Tom Rain, though without appearing to do so,
professionally superintended all the means resorted to for the purpose
of restoring suspended animation,—while the highwayman still looked on
with a kind of mechanical attention.
At length Georgiana opened her eyes slowly; but the moment they caught a
glimpse of Lord Ellingham's countenance, a faint cry escaped her
lips—and she covered her face with her hands as if to shut out some
terrible object from her view.
"Georgiana, dearest—'tis I," murmured Arthur in her ear.
But a dreadful shudder seemed to convulse her entire frame.
"Some one has terrified her—alarmed her!" exclaimed the Earl, colouring
with anger; and as he glanced rapidly around, his eyes met those of the
highwayman.
At that moment Dr. Lascelles desired that Lady Hatfield should be
supported to her own chamber; and this suggestion was immediately
followed by the female friends and servants, the physician accompanying
them.