Mrs. Hazleton was very consoling. She was with Mrs. Hastings two or
three times in the week, and poor Mrs. Hastings required a
considerable degree of consolation; for the arrest of her husband,
coming so close upon the bitter mortification of loss, and abatement
of dignity, and at the end of a long period of weak health, had made
her seriously ill. She now kept her bed the whole day long, and lay,
making herself worse by that sort of fretful anxiety which was
constitutional with her as well as with many other people. Mrs.
Hazleton's visits were a great comfort to her, and yet, strange to
say, Emily almost always found her more irritable after that lady had
left her.
Poor Emily seemed to shine under the cloud of misfortune. Her
character came out and acted nobly in the midst of disasters. She was
her mother's nurse and constant attendant; she kept her father
informed of every thing that passed--not an opportunity was missed of
sending him a letter; and although she would have made any sacrifice
to be with him in prison, to comfort and support him in the peril and
sorrow of his situation, she was well satisfied that he had not taken
her, when she found the state into which her mother had fallen.
Often, after Mrs. Hazleton had sat for an hour or two with her sick
friend, she would come down and walk upon the terrace for a while with
Emily, and comfort her much in the same way that she did Mrs.
Hastings. She would tell her not to despond about her mother: that
though she was certainly very ill, and in a dangerous state, yet
people had recovered who had been quite as ill as she was. Then she
would talk about lungs, and nerves, and humors, and all kinds of
painful and mortal diseases, as if she had studied medicine all her
life; and she did it, too, with a quiet, dignified gravity which made
it more impressive and alarming. Then again, she would turn to the
situation of Mr. Hastings, and wonder what they would do with him. She
would also bring every bit of news that she could collect, regarding
the case of Sir John Fenwick, especially when the intelligence was
painful and disastrous; but she hinted that, perhaps, after all, they
might not be able to prove any thing against Mr. Hastings, and that
even if they did--although the Government were inclined to be
severe--they might, perhaps, commute his sentence to transportation
for the colonies, or imprisonment in the Tower for five or six years.
It is thus our friends often console us; some of them, from a dark and
gloomy turn of mind, and some of them from the satisfaction many
people feel in meddling with the miseries of others. But it was
neither natural despondency of character, nor any general love of
sorrowful scenes or thoughts, that moved Mrs. Hazleton in the present
instance. She had a peculiar and especial pleasure in the wretchedness
of the Hastings family, and particularly in that of Emily. The
charming lady fancied that if Marlow were free from his engagement
with Emily the next day, and a suitor for her own hand, she would
never think of marrying him. I am not quite sure of that fact, but
that is no business of ours, dear reader, and one thing is certain,
that she would have very willingly sacrificed one half of her whole
fortune, nay more, to have placed an everlasting barrier between Emily
and Marlow.
She was thus walking with her dear Emily, as she called her, one day
on that terrace at the back of the house where the memorable
conversation had taken place between Mr. Hastings and Sir John
Fenwick, and was treating Emily to a minute and particular account of
the death of the latter, when Marlow suddenly arrived from London, and
entered the house by the large glass door in front. He found a servant
in the hall who informed him that Mrs. Hastings was still in bed, and
that Emily was walking on the terrace with Mrs. Hazleton. Marlow
paused, and considered for a moment. "Any thing not dishonorable," he
said to himself, "is justifiable to clear up such a mystery;" and
passing quietly through the house into the dining-room, which had one
window opening as a door upon the terrace, he saw his fair Emily and
her companion pass along towards the other end of the walk without
being himself perceived. He then approached the window, and
calculating the distances nicely, so as to be sure that Mrs. Hazelton
was fully as far distant from himself as she could have been from Sir
John Fenwick and Mr. Hastings on the evening when they walked there
together, he pronounced her name in an ordinary tone, somewhat lower
than that which Mr. Hastings usually employed.
Mrs. Hazleton instantly started, and looked round towards the spot
where Marlow was now emerging from the room.
The lady could not miss an occasion, and the moment she saw him she
exclaimed, "Dear me! there is Mr. Marlow; I am afraid he brings bad
tidings, Emily."
Emily paused not to consider, but with her own wild grace ran forward
and cast herself into his arms.
Fortunately Mrs. Hazleton had no dagger with her. Her face was
benevolent and smiling when she joined them; for the joy there was
upon Emily's countenance forbade any affectation of apprehension. It
said as plainly as possible, "All is well;" but she added the words
too, stretching forth her hand to her supposed friend, and saying,
"Dear Mrs. Hazleton, Charles brings me word that my father is
safe--that the Government have declared they will not prosecute."
"I congratulate you with my whole heart, Emily," replied the lady;
"and I do sincerely hope that ministers may keep their word better in
this instance than they have done in some others."
"There is not the slightest doubt of it, my dear madam," said Marlow;
"for I have the official announcement under the hand of the Secretary
of State."
"I must fly and tell my mother," said Emily, and without waiting for a
reply she darted away.
Mrs. Hazleton took a turn or two up and down the terrace with Marlow,
considering whether it was at all possible for her to be of any
further comfort to her friends at the Court. As she could not stay all
night, however, so as to prevent Emily and Marlow from having any
happy private conversation together, and as she judged that, in their
present joy, they would a good deal forget conventional restraints,
and give way to their lover-like feelings even in her presence, which
would be exceedingly disagreeable to her, she soon re-entered the
house, and ordered her carriage. It must be acknowledged that both
Emily and Marlow were well satisfied to see her depart, and it is not
to be wondered at if they gave themselves up for half an hour to the
pleasure of meeting again.
At the end of that time, however, Marlow drew forth a letter from his
pocket, carefully folded, so that a line or two only was apparent, and
placing it before Emily, inquired if she knew the hand.
"It is mine," said Emily, at first; but the moment after she exclaimed
"No!--it is not; it is Mrs. Hazleton's. I know it by the peculiar way
she forms the _g_ and the _y_.--Stay, let me see, Marlow. She has not
done so always; but that _g_, and that _y_, I am quite certain of. Why
do you ask, Marlow?"
"For reasons of the utmost importance, dear Emily," he answered, "have
you any letters or notes of Mrs. Hazleton's?"
"Yes, there is one which came yesterday," replied Emily; "it is lying
on my table upstairs."
"Bring it--bring it, dearest girl," he said; "I wish very much to see
it."
When he had got, he examined it with a well-pleased smile, and then
said, with a laugh, "I must impound this, my love. I am now on the
right track, and will not leave it till I have arrived at perfect
certainty."
"You are very strange and mysterious to-day, Marlow," said the
beautiful girl, "what does all this mean?"
"It means, my love," replied Marlow, "that I have very dark doubts and
suspicions of Mrs. Hazleton,--and all I have seen and heard to-day
confirms me. Now sit down here by me, dear Emily, and tell me if, to
your knowledge, you have ever given to Mrs. Hazleton cause of
offence."
"Never!" answered Emily, firmly and at once. "Never in my life."
Marlow mused, and then, with his arms round her waist, he continued,
"Bethink yourself, my love. Within the course of the last two or three
years, have you ever seen reason to believe that Mrs. Hazleton's
affection for you is not so great as it appears?--Has it ever
wavered?--Has it ever become doubtful to you from any stray word or
accidental circumstance?"
Emily was silent for a moment, and then replied, thoughtfully,
"Perhaps I did think so, once or twice, when I was staying at her
house, last year."
"Well, then, now, dear Emily," said Marlow, "tell me every thing down
to the most minute circumstance that occurred there."
Emily hesitated. "Perhaps I ought not," she said; "Mrs. Hazleton
showed me, very strongly, that I ought not, except under an absolute
necessity."
"That necessity is now, my love," replied Marlow; "love cannot exist
without confidence, Emily; and I tell you, upon my honor and my faith,
that your happiness, my happiness, and even your father's safety,
depends in a great degree upon your telling me all. Do you believe me,
Emily?"
"Fully," she answered; "and I will tell you all."
Thus seated together, she poured forth the whole tale to her lover's
ears, even to the circumstances which had occurred in her own room,
when Mrs. Hazleton had entered it, walking in her sleep. The whole
conduct of John Ayliffe, now calling himself Sir John Hastings, was
also displayed; and the dark and treacherous schemes which had been
going on, began gradually to evolve themselves to Marlow's mind.
Obscure and indistinct they still were; but the gloomy shadow was
apparent, and he could trace the outline though he could not fill up
the details.
"Base, treacherous woman!" he murmured to himself, and then, pressing
Emily more closely to his heart, he thanked her again and again for
her frankness. "I will never misuse it, my Emily," he said; "and no
one shall ever know what you have told me except your father: to him
it must be absolutely revealed."
"I would have told him myself," said Emily, "if he had ever asked me
any questions on the subject; but as he did not, and seemed very
gloomy just then, I thought it better to follow Mrs. Hazleton's
advice."
"The worst and the basest she could have given you," said Marlow; "I
have had doubts of her for a long time, Emily, but I have no doubts
now; and, moreover, I firmly believe that the whole case of this John
Ayliffe--his claim upon your father's estate and title--is all false
and factitious together, supported by fraud, forgery, and crime. Have
you preserved this young man's letter, or have you destroyed it,
Emily?"
"I kept it," she replied, "thinking that, some time or another, I
might have to show it to my father."
"Then one more mark of confidence, my love," said Marlow; "let me have
that letter. I do not wish to read it; therefore you had better fold
it up and seal it; but it may be necessary as a link in the chain of
evidence which I wish to bring forward for your father's
satisfaction."
"Read it, if you will, Marlow," she answered; "I have told you the
contents, but it may be as well that you should see the words: I will
bring it to you in a moment."
They read the letter over together, and when Marlow had concluded, he
laid his hand upon it, saying, "This is Mrs. Hazleton's composition."
"I'm almost inclined to fancy so, myself," answered Emily.
"He is incapable of writing this," replied her lover; "I have seen his
letters on matters of business, and he cannot write a plain sentence
in English to an end without making some gross mistake. This is Mrs.
Hazleton's doing, and there is some dark design underneath it. Would
to God that visit had never taken place!"
"There has been little happiness in the house since," said Emily,
"except what you and I have known together, Marlow; and that has been
sadly checkered by many a painful circumstance."
"The clouds are breaking, dear one," replied Marlow, rising; "but I
will not pause one moment in my course till all this is made
clear--no, not even for the delight of sitting here by you, my love. I
will go home at once, Emily; mount my horse, and ride over to Hartwell
before it be dark."
"What is your object there?" asked Emily.
"To unravel one part of this mystery," replied her lover. "I will
ascertain, by some means, from whom, or in what way, this young man
obtained sufficient money to commence and carry on a very expensive
suit at law. That he had it not himself, I am certain. That his
chances were not sufficiently good, when first he commenced, to induce
any lawyer to take the risk, I am equally certain. He must have had it
from some one, and my suspicions point to Mrs. Hazleton. Her bankers
are mine, and I will find means to know. So, now, farewell, my love; I
will see you again early to-morrow."
He lingered yet for a moment or two, and then left her.