Five years have passed since Mabel Arden was placed under the care of
Mrs. Sampson; and she was now seventeen years of age. For the last
six months she had quitted school, and remained under the care and
protection of Madame Volney, who, with her daughter Agatha, resided
in a pretty villa in the immediate vicinity of Southampton. Madame
Volney’s income was five hundred a-year, having placed the large sum of
money she had had bequeathed to her in the hands of Mr. Stanmore, who
had invested it for her very advantageously.
The thousand pounds so generously left by Lieutenant O’Loughlin and
our hero for Mabel’s benefit Mr. Stanmore also placed out at interest;
and what the interest lacked in amount to discharge the expense of
her schooling, the solicitor paid himself, so that the little capital
remained untouched, Mr. Stanmore feeling satisfied that Mabel would
in the end be able to establish her rights, and recover interest and
principal out of the Etherton estates; but as to forcing Sir Godfrey to
acknowledge his niece without certain proofs of her birth, &c., was out
of the question.
About two years after the placing of Mabel at school, Sir Godfrey
Etherton became somewhat embarrassed, through the imprudence of his
son-in-law, Lord Coldburgh and Philip Etherton, who were fast friends,
the former having induced his brother-in-law to join him in a security
for fourteen thousand pounds—racing debts—which his lordship declared
were to be paid for out of the proceeds of an estate in Dorsetshire, to
be sold immediately. Unfortunately his lordship’s creditors, thinking
he lived much too fast, brought matters to a close, and laid hands on
all the property, politely requesting Mr. Philip Etherton to take up
the bond for fourteen thousand pounds.
This Mr. Etherton could not do. Lord and Lady Coldburgh, in the end,
were compelled to retire to a mansion his lordship possessed in
Yorkshire and live (starve they styled it), on four hundred a year, the
creditors having allowed them that sum from the property till the whole
of the debts were paid off, which would not be for a term of fourteen
years. Sir Godfrey Etherton had to pay a sum of nine thousand pounds,
it being proved that part of the fourteen thousand pounds included
gambling debts of his son. The baronet felt this severely, being both
a penurious and heartless man, for he was quite satisfied in his mind
that Mabel was his niece; but he was in great hopes that having lost
the contents of the casket, and her mother being, as he believed,
guillotined, he should never hear more of her claims.
The baronet insisted on his son giving up his racing associates
and extravagant mode of life, fixing upon some wealthy heiress, and
winding up his future by marriage. But Mr. Philip Etherton’s career
was destined to be a very short one; the year after, whilst shooting
with a friend, in loading his double-barrelled gun, the loaded barrel,
by some unaccountable accident, went off, and the contents lodged in
the brain of the unfortunate young man, killing him on the spot. This
terrible catastrophe plunged the Etherton family into deep despondency.
Sir Godfrey appeared to feel it as a judgment upon him for his cruelty
and injustice to his orphan niece, and yet he strove in his own mind to
convince himself that he acted from principle; “for why,” he argued,
“should I receive a young girl as my niece simply upon a woman’s word,
who may be, and no doubt is, an impostor?”
The baronet, immediately after the death of his eldest son, removed
Howard Etherton from the navy, and he returned home. Sir Godfrey’s
troubles and anxiety of mind respecting his brother’s wife and child
brought on a heart disease, and in less than five years from Mabel’s
residence in England he was gathered to his fathers, and Howard
Etherton succeeded to the title and estates.
During those five years so eventful to the Etherton family, Mabel
Arden was growing up into an exquisitely lovely and accomplished girl.
The first two years she constantly looked forward to either hearing
from or seeing her never-forgotten mother; but as time passed on, and
no tidings could be gained from France, convulsed as it was to its
centre, and a fierce war raging between the two countries, she began to
despair. As she advanced towards womanhood her feelings for her young
protector she felt, though she scarcely knew how, were undergoing a
great change; the childish love was maturing itself in her young and
most affectionate heart. The mere mention of his name caused the rich
blood to rush to her cheek, and a deep anxiety stole over her when news
arrived of the English fleet, or engagements between any of the French
and English ships. Four years had elapsed since she had seen William
Thornton, as she still called him, though convinced his real name was
Oscar de Bracy, and that they were cousins.
To Mr. Stanmore’s excessive vexation, news reached England of Sir
Oscar de Bracy’s death taking place at the Cape of Good Hope. The
solicitor, fearing that such a catastrophe might occur, had taken the
precaution to send out letters by a Government vessel, detailing all
the circumstances of our hero’s story as related to him by Lieutenant
O’Loughlin, by William Thornton, and Lord Hood’s coxswain; as well as
Madame Volney’s account of the finding of the picture of himself round
the neck of the child. In fact, he omitted no circumstance likely to
convince the most sceptical of the identity of William Thornton’s being
Sir Oscar de Bracy’s son. Whether the baronet received these letters
and documents before his death Mr. Stanmore remained ignorant, and
would remain so, till the frigate that was under Sir Oscar’s orders
should return to England. The lawyer was also aware that the baronet,
as governor of ——, must have accumulated a considerable sum, his large
salary and emoluments, together with a vast amount of prize money,
would constitute a fortune in themselves. The Duchess de Coulancourt,
therefore, in default of heirs direct, would no doubt be entitled to
his property if he died without a will.
Mabel Arden felt acutely, particularly on our hero’s account, this
untoward event of Sir Oscar de Bracy’s death. She knew he would deeply
deplore it, for his most ardent desire was to be acknowledged by his
father. The last letters Mabel and Agatha Volney had received from the
two friends were just previous to the Diamond frigate’s visit to Brest
harbour. William Thornton wrote with all the sincerity and truth of
an affectionate brother; the fondest sister could find no fault with
the tone and tenor of his long and affectionate letter. But there was
nothing of love in it: how could there be? She was scarcely more than
thirteen when they parted, and yet Mabel was in her heart disappointed;
and her cheeks glowed as she detected her feelings.
Agatha Volney, a light-hearted, affectionate, generous girl, loved
her intended husband, Lieutenant O’Loughlin, with true affection,
and looked forward with cheerfulness and hope to his being made a
commander—the time fixed upon for their union.
William Thornton, in his letter, observing that delays were dangerous,
playfully hinted that O’Loughlin’s whiskers were turning into a greyish
tint, and that if Agatha waited ten years longer, they would be of a
uniform colour, and the commandership still in the clouds.
Not long after the receipt of these letters, the inmates of the villa
were startled, and most agreeably surprised, by the entrance of
O’Loughlin himself. Agatha and Mabel were alone in the drawing-room
when he entered; before a word could be said he threw his arm round the
blushing, but delighted Agatha, and kissed her with fond affection,
saying—
“I am entitled to this; I am, by Jove! I have been made commander.”
Then looking around, he perceived the tall and graceful form of Mabel
Arden; he gazed at her for a moment bewildered; her extreme loveliness,
and sweet expressive features, amazed him.
“Impossible!” he exclaimed; “and yet the eyes are those of Miss Arden.”
“Yes,” said Mabel, with her sweet, captivating smile, and extending her
hand to the delighted sailor; “I am Mabel. You cannot have forgotten
the little deserted girl you so generously and nobly protected.”
“Forgot!” exclaimed the sailor, kissing the hand held out to him; “that
would be impossible. St. Patrick, if William were here, he would no
longer say you were—hem—hem——”
Commander O’Loughlin coughed; he was on the point of saying his friend
Thornton thought the beautiful girl before him was plain.
Mabel laughed; and shaking her head, she said playfully—
“Oh, I know that dear William thinks his little sister is plain. What
then? Beauty is not the lot of all.”
“Beauty!” exclaimed O’Loughlin; “by the immortal gods——”
“Take care,” exclaimed Agatha Volney, shaking her finger at her lover,
“how you call upon the immortal gods in speaking of the beauty of any
other fair one, except your liege lady’s; so sit down, quietly and
contentedly, and tell us about yourself and friend, and relate all your
wonderful adventures.”
The delighted O’Loughlin sat down beside his fair betrothed, with Mabel
on the other side, and commenced a recital of the several events that
had occurred since their separation.
Before he had concluded Madame Volney and Mr. Stanmore were announced.
Mr. Stanmore informed his friends of the arrival of the frigate from
the Cape, saying—
“I am happy to tell you she brings all the necessary documents, papers,
&c., that I was so very anxious about. Most fortunately, or rather,
providentially, my letters reached Sir Oscar before his death, and
their contents imparted to his last hours soothing gratification
and consolation, and his life was spared to complete and sign every
necessary paper before proper witnesses. I will show you by-and-by
his letter to me. It seems he was not aware that his sister was alive
and had married a Mr. Granby Arden, and afterwards became Duchess
of Coulancourt, by a second marriage with a French duke, and that
she had a daughter living. He made his will, drawn up by an eminent
solicitor at the Cape, and finally disposed of his immense property,
acknowledging with grateful thanks the goodness of Providence in
permitting him to recognise and acknowledge William Thornton as his son
and heir.”
“I see no difficulty,” continued Mr. Stanmore, “in proving Mr.
Thornton’s right to the name and title of Sir Oscar De Bracy. The
will shall be opened and read in a few days, and I wish you, Commander
O’Loughlin, to be present.”
We will here merely state the principal points in the will of the
late Sir Oscar De Bracy: excepting a legacy of ten thousand pounds to
his niece, Mabel Arden, five thousand to Mr. Patrick O’Loughlin, and
a thousand each to his two solicitors, and ample donations to four
attached domestics, the whole of his estates and remaining property
were bequeathed to his son, known as William Thornton.
To his will was added a solemn declaration, before four witnesses,
that he felt perfectly satisfied and convinced that the proofs of his
son’s preservation and his identity with William Thornton were most
satisfactorily explained, and most clear as to dates, and that the
picture found round the child’s neck was one he left with Lady De Bracy
a short period before his departure for India.
Captain O’Loughlin was greatly moved by this last mark of Sir Oscar’s
esteem and remembrance, whilst Mabel deeply deplored that one so
kind-hearted and noble should have undergone such trials; and that,
just as his heart became relieved by the joyous intelligence received
of his son’s being still in existence, when life would have been a
boon, the destroyer should have laid his hand on his victim.
“But we are not to murmur,” she said; “it is not upon earth we are to
seek or expect our reward for trials; we must look higher.”
Captain O’Loughlin’s marriage was postponed for twelve months. Neither
he nor Agatha could think of their union taking place till the usual
time for mourning for his generous benefactor had expired.
Three weeks passed calmly and pleasantly with Agatha Volney and her
lover, who by this time had become an excellent French scholar; though
Agatha excelled him in her knowledge of the English language. Mabel
was anxious to hear some news of our hero; for generally the frigates
cruising off the French ports returned at intervals to Plymouth and
Falmouth, or vessels arrived with intelligence of their movements.
One morning Captain O’Loughlin, who was remaining at Southampton, and
generally walked to the villa to breakfast, took a _Times_ newspaper
from his pocket.
“I have not had time to look at the naval intelligence this morning,”
said the Captain, “and I am really anxious——”
“And so am I,” said Mabel, with a slight increase of colour; “there has
been no news of any kind for many days.”
“Ha! be the immortal powers, this is startling!”
“What is it?” exclaimed Mabel, looking pale and frightened at seeing
the evident agitation of Captain O’Loughlin. “Pray do not hide anything
from me, Mr. O’Loughlin. You are reading of some mishap to the Diamond?”
Captain O’Loughlin did look not only anxious, but exceedingly excited;
but having once incautiously spoken out, he thought the best plan would
be to state the facts. So, taking the paper, he read out a rather
startling account of the capture of Sir Sidney Smith, Lieutenant
Thornton, and Midshipman Westly Wright, in an attempt to cut out the
celebrated privateer, Vengeance, from Havre, besides naming several
men, either killed, wounded, or prisoners.
“The Diamond cruised for several days off the coast,” continued the
paper; “and the night after the unfortunate capture of Sir Sidney,
those on board the frigate saw a vessel on fire in-shore; but before
the Diamond could stand in sufficiently to make her out, the vessel
must have been run ashore or consumed.”
“Ha!” exclaimed Captain O’Loughlin, after a brief pause, “here is later
intelligence, headed, ‘Mysterious intelligence respecting the gallant
attempt to cut out the Vengeance from the inner port of Havre.’”
“Two days,” continued the paper, “after the capture of the gallant Sir
Sidney, and his equally high spirited officer, Lieutenant Thornton,
whose name has already been several times before the public for
gallant enterprises and fortunate results, the Diamond frigate seized
a small fishing lugger out of Havre, for the purpose of gaining some
intelligence of Sir Sidney, his officers, and crew.
“The captain of the lugger was very willing to communicate all he knew;
but he said he was mystified himself with respect to the cutting out of
the Vengeance, though he was on the spot the whole time; he knew that
one officer and a young midshipman were landed at Havre, and marched on
with their men to Rouen; he did not know whether there was any other
officer left on board the Vengeance, but certainly only the captain and
midshipman were landed, for he saw them himself.
“‘Late in the evening,’ continued the Frenchman, ‘Captain Gaudet,
the skipper of the Vengeance, his mate, and the crew, came ashore,
excepting four or five of the men left to take care of the privateer
till their return with powder and shot, there being very little on
board. About two hours after their arrival, a gun was fired, which gave
the alarm to Captain Gaudet and his mate, and they at once started in
their boats for their craft, but the vessel was under weigh, and nearly
out of port.
“‘They pursued, and fired into her with muskets, and the fort was
alarmed; but the lugger got clear away, and Captain Gaudet returned,
cursing and swearing at his ill-luck, but giving no explanation that he
heard.
“‘The very next day news arrived in Havre that the Vengeance had run
ashore on Lyon Head Point in a sheet of flame, and was nearly consumed
to the water’s edge, but not a human being was to be seen by the
fishermen, who, as soon as it was daylight, clambered down the cliffs,
where her entire hull was visible when the tide receded.
“‘I sailed two hours after this intelligence arrived,’ continued the
captain of the fishing lugger; ‘therefore am quite unable to explain
the mystery of the transaction.’ He also stated that Sir Sidney and his
men had captured the Vengeance, but that wind and tide were against
their taking her out; that they defended her in the most gallant
manner, against overwhelming odds, for boats full of soldiers were sent
out against them, besides an armed lugger.”
“Good gracious!” exclaimed Mabel, her face very pale, and her voice
trembling with emotion. “Can you understand, Captain O’Loughlin, what
could have become of Lieutenant Thornton?”
“It is certainly very singular, and not very easily explained,” said
Captain O’Loughlin. “Still, it appears to me that someway or another
William Thornton must have taken the Vengeance to sea; who else could,
for he was not taken ashore with Sir Sidney and the others, and there
was no officer even wounded, except Midshipman Beecroft? How the
Vengeance caught fire it is impossible for me to say, but if William
was in her he has got ashore, and I should not be surprised but that
with his knowledge of the French language he may manage to get safe
out of the country. I wish to God I had been in the Diamond; I should
have been tempted to run in to their rescue, even if I had lost the
frigate in the attempt. But do not, I beg you, Mabel, take this so
much to heart; I have every confidence in the gallantry and ingenuity
of my friend; he will, if he is in France, work his way out of it.
I wish I was with him. I am more vexed than I can tell you. I hoped
when appointed to a ship to have had him for my first lieutenant; his
interest with Lord Hood, and his own gallantry, would have made him a
commander in six months.”
“But with his fortune and rank,” said Mabel, seriously, “why should he
continue in the navy?”
“My dear Mabel,” said Agatha Volney, “neither rank nor wealth would
have the least effect on Sir Oscar de Bracy, for I think we ought
to give him the name he is entitled to; rank or fortune would weigh
nothing in the balance with honour and glory. The navy is his pride and
delight.”
“Be St. Patrick, you are right, Agatha!” said Captain O’Loughlin. “If
you were to ask him which he would give up, wealth or profession, be
the powers of war, he would say without hesitation, wealth, my beauty!”
“And pray, Mr., or rather Captain O’Loughlin,” said Agatha, “if you
were asked which you would give up, your profession or Miss Agatha
Volney, I suppose it would be—‘Be the powers of war, you, my beauty!’”
“Ah, you little deceiver!” said the Captain. “You know deuced well
which way the vane would turn. Now, if my gallant young friend were
once fairly caught in Cupid’s meshes, to the deuce with the profession,
when that wicked deceiver hoists his flag.”
“And do you pretend to tell me, most redoubtable Commander,” said
Agatha, demurely, “that you were never in love before, and you in your
twenty-seventh year?”
“Faith, I can’t say that, fair Agatha,” said the Captain, with a
smile. “You know I was six years a middy, and a mid is perpetually in
love—that is, when he gets ashore, and sees a petticoat fluttering in
the wind. But I must be off to London to-night; try and console Mabel,
she looks very unhappy (our heroine had retired, leaving the lovers
together); upon my conscience I’m afraid her little heart is beating
with something more than cousinly love for my handsome friend.”
“And why should you say afraid?” asked Agatha. “Is there a lovelier
girl in Great Britain than Mabel? When we spent a month at my sister’s,
she was the admiration of all the visitors, and at the Great Election
Ball at Exeter she created universal admiration. She could if she
pleased have had the choice of two coronets.”
“I know that,” said Captain O’Loughlin; “and I say with you that a more
beautiful or more amiable maiden there is not to be found; but you see,
William—that is, Sir Oscar—I shall hail him under his right name; but
as I was saying, Sir Oscar is one of the handsomest men you probably
ever saw; the women are all in love with him. Whenever we get ashore,
and mix in society, he cuts us all out, and you see he’s rather, I
must confess, a leetle volatile—black, brown, and fair—and when I talk
to him of Mabel he says, ‘I dare say she is a very nice amiable girl;
but it’s preposterous to fancy myself in love with a little thing of
thirteen. I love her with all my heart as a sister.’”
“I think, Master O’Loughlin,” said Agatha, with a smile, and shaking
her finger at the captain, who immediately got possession of it, “I
think you have been a rather giddy pair in the Cupid line; but I tell
you what, I should like Sir Oscar to see our dear Mabel without knowing
who she was; I would venture my hand, which, by-the-by, you are
squeezing very hard—recollect my fingers are not ropes!”
“No, faith, nor those ruby lips marlin spikes!”
“Come,” interrupted Agatha, jumping up with cheeks like a peony; “it is
time you should go to London. I am afraid you will make but a very bad
commander.”
“When I strike my colours to you, my sweet girl,” said the gallant
Captain, gaily, “my commandership ceases; from that time I obey, not
command.”