CAPTAIN COURLAND'S RETURN AND HIS WIFE'S ANXIETY.
The man of cunning had proved himself more than a match for his
pursuers. He had got the start of them, and was now out of their reach.
So the squire and Mr. Morley, accompanied by Josiah, prepared to retrace
their steps, angry and crestfallen at having been thus outwitted. They
walked on in silence until, on rounding a rock, they met Lieutenant
Fowler and one of his men, who were evidently out on duty. Fowler seemed
quite taken by surprise, and scarcely knew what to do; but he
instinctively touched his cap to the squire, and, shaking Morley by the
hand, was about to pass on. The squire, however, was too much engrossed
with the matter in hand to remember his late treatment of the
lieutenant, or the cause of it, and Morley was ignorant of the whole
matter. So they both greeted Fowler heartily, and told him the whole
affair, and pointed out the vessel which was bearing away their crafty
deceiver. Fowler put his glass to his eye, and scanned the horizon after
having looked attentively at the vessel.
"She'll be back again" said he, "before long; there's a storm rising."
"No! no!" replied the squire; "that fellow will not return to this coast
again if he can by any possibility keep away; they'll probably reach the
Scilly Islands before the storm comes on."
"We shall see," said the lieutenant; "my men shall keep a good watch,
however, all night. Good day gentlemen." And he touched his cap again,
and was moving off.
"Where are you going in such a hurry, my dear fellow?" said Morley, "I
haven't seen you for an age. Come! I'm going up to your station to have
a serious chat with you."
"Go on, then; I shall be home soon; but I must go round to see what the
other men are about, whom I sent, some time ago, to watch a suspicious
looking craft, round the next headland. Go up to my cabin, there's a
good fellow; for I want to have a serious chat with you too." So saying,
he walked on, having seen that the squire had got on his stilts again
after the first impulse had subsided; for he had walked on without
taking any further notice of Fowler.
Mr. Morley, true to his appointment, declined the squire's pressing
invitation to dine with him at Pendrea-house, and proceeded towards
Tol-pedn-Penwith station, where he had not been very long before his
friend returned. After dinner, Fowler confided to him his secret, and
the manner in which he had been treated by the squire. Morley at first
treated it as a joke, saying, "Faint heart never won fair lady;" but on
reflection he thought there must be some mistake, and that a mutual
explanation would set all things right, which he undertook to perform.
But he was so anxious about his brother that he could not settle his
mind to anything until he had found him or ascertained his fate. He had
evidently been at Cooper's house,--that was pretty certain, from what
the old woman had said,--and it was also certain that he was not there
now, for they had searched everywhere, nor was he at the Land's-End, nor
St. Just; nor had any trace of him been seen in that neighbourhood by
anyone, and the boy had not been seen either, for some time. Mr.
Morley's only conjecture now was, that he had probably escaped from
Cooper's cellar, and had returned to Ashley Hall, thinking that, as
Josiah had seen Miss Freeman there, Alrina might be there also,
concealed somewhere; and he no doubt thought that he would there also
have the advice and assistance of his brother and Josiah whom he had
left there; for Mr. Morley knew that neither of his letters had reached
him, because he found them both lying at the Penzance post-office. He
therefore determined at once to return to Ashley Hall. The more he
thought of it, the more was he confirmed in this belief, and he also
felt certain, that, having escaped through the underground cellar, and
no trace of him having been discovered in the neighbourhood, his brother
had, to avoid pursuit and suspicion, gone on board some vessel, bound to
Bristol, and proceeded thither by water.
Mr. Morley wished to see Miss Pendray once more before he left; but his
sense of duty prevailed over love, and he determined to start at once,
that very night, and to leave nothing untried until he found his
brother--dead or alive. He would have gone to Pendrea-house, just to see
her for a moment, and take leave of her, but he was afraid to trust
himself. She would have kept him on and on, he feared, until the chance
of finding his brother might be gone. He knew her powers of fascination,
and he would not trust himself to them. He would come back to love and
pleasure with greater satisfaction after he had performed his duty.
He took the faithful Josiah with him; and so hasty was their departure,
that poor Josiah had not time to return to St. Just, to take leave of
Alice Ann, and so they did not know of the change that had taken place
in the abode of the mistress and maid.
So sure did Mr. Morley feel, now, that Frederick had returned to Ashley
Hall by water, that he did not make any inquiry on the road, but rode
night and day, hiring fresh horses at every stage, until they reached
the hall. Why he was so confident of finding his brother there he could
scarcely tell; but as that was the only hope he seemed to have, and the
only probable place to which he thought he could have gone, he seized it
as the "forlorn hope," as it were, and brooded on it, so that it became
fixed in his mind, and he would not allow any other thought to supersede
it. How great was his disappointment, then, when he arrived at the hall,
to find that his brother had not been seen there, nor had anything been
heard of or from him, since he left it some weeks before. It was like a
death stroke. He could scarcely believe it. He could not bring his mind
back to the thought that his brother was lost. He searched everywhere.
Mrs. Courland and Julia were alarmed also when they heard how matters
stood, and even the poor dumb girl was alarmed and agitated; for she saw
there was something amiss, but she didn't know what it was, and no one
had the time or the inclination to tell her; so she wandered about the
house, unheeded.
Captain Courland had returned, and had now given up the sea, having
realized a handsome fortune, and looked forward to spending the
remainder of his life in peace and happiness, with his beautiful wife,
and her niece, Julia Morley, whom they had adopted as their own, and
whom they were both very fond of. The first day of his arrival was a
very happy one to him. He revelled in the society of his wife and niece,
and nothing occurred to mar his happiness. Flora was kept out of the way
in Mrs. Courland's private apartments, where she had first been
introduced to the house. These rooms had been fitted up expressly for
her. Here she had every amusement she could enjoy, and she liked being
here alone, and would frequently spend whole days there, and in the
little garden adjoining, planting, and watching, and cultivating the
flowers, of which, as we have said before, she was passionately fond. A
slight hint from Mrs. Courland that there was company in the house, was
quite enough to keep her in her apartments the whole day; for she did
not like mixing with strangers. She always seemed to have a dread, lest
she should meet with someone she had seen before, and who she feared
would take her away and beat her.
Mrs. Courland knew whom she meant, but to the others this was a mystery.
Mrs. Courland still dreaded the introduction of this poor girl to her
husband, although she knew his kind heart would compassionate a poor
helpless creature thrown upon her charity, as she had represented it, as
much as the other members of the family had done. But she did not feel
the same repugnance at deceiving them, as she did at deceiving her
husband. She had already deceived him by keeping this secret from him.
And now, by the introduction of this poor girl into his house, the
secret might be disclosed at some unlucky moment. She at first decided
on introducing her at once on his return, and telling him the story she
had framed; but her courage failed her, and she thought she would put it
off until his return from London, where he was going the day after his
arrival, to arrange his business with the principal shareholders of his
ship. He was detained there some days, and had not returned when Mr.
Morley and Josiah arrived, although he was hourly expected. All was
confusion throughout the house at the intelligence brought by Mr.
Morley, that his brother Frederick could nowhere be found. He was a
general favourite there, and all the household turned out for this
hopeless search, leaving poor Flora a wanderer through the house.
While the search was going on, Captain Courland returned from London,
and, finding none of the servants in their accustomed places, he walked
into the breakfast-room, where he saw a young lady standing at the
window, with her back towards him as he entered, looking intently into
the garden below. At first he thought it was his niece Julia, and he
asked her what had occurred in the house to make such a scarcity of
servants, and where her aunt was; but, to his great surprise, she took
no notice of him,--so he went up close to her and tapped her on the
shoulder, when she turned suddenly round, and gave a peculiar,
disagreeable scream, and ran out of the room. He thought this very
extraordinary. He could not imagine who the young lady could be, who
seemed so much at home in his house, and who treated him with such rude
contempt. He sought his wife for an explanation. On his mentioning the
circumstance to her, she seemed taken quite by surprise, and hesitated,
and looked confused while she told him her tale. He thought it very
strange that she had not mentioned this circumstance to him in any of
her letters, and he asked her rather harshly why she had not mentioned
it when he was home for a day and a night, on his first arrival from
sea. He spoke more harshly to her than he had ever done before, perhaps
without intending to do so; but the consciousness that she had done
wrong, and the fear lest her secret should yet be discovered by him,
overcame her, so that, instead of explaining the reason, which she might
easily have done, she burst into tears, which pained him, and made him
think there was something more in this affair than he had yet heard;
but, in the goodness of his heart and his devoted affection and love for
his wife, he never suspected for a moment that she had done any wrong,
or was concealing anything from him of a serious nature; while she,
poor, timid, guilty creature, read his thoughts by her own, and fancied
that her husband was looking into her heart, and reading there her
guilty secret.
Had she possessed the moral courage to tell the truth in the beginning,
when they were first married, all would have been well. But she had
retained the secret in her own breast so long, and thereby deceived her
husband, that the telling of it now would be like the confession of a
twofold guilt. And if she had not the courage to tell her secret, when
it was but a little secret after all, how could she tell it now, when
years of deception had been added to it. And so, by this little
accidental discovery of nothing, as it were, her courage deserted her,
and the resolution she had formed of explaining the way in which the
poor dumb girl became an adopted inmate of his house, was told in a way
to create suspicion rather than allay it.
As his wife had adopted this poor creature, Captain Courland tacitly
consented; for, although he felt that there was something that he could
not understand in the matter, he had the heart of a true British sailor,
and would not willingly wound the feelings of a woman if he could avoid
it, especially in such a trifle as this; and more especially as the
offender, if such she could be deemed, was his beautiful wife, to whom
he was attached with the most ardent and devoted affection. After a time
he became quite attached to the poor dumb girl: she amused him, and he
would spend hours in her private room, while she taught him to talk
with his fingers; and she was interested in her task, and would laugh
such a hearty, ringing laugh when he made a mistake, that the jovial
captain would throw himself back in his chair, and laugh, too, till his
sides shook;--and then he could burst out with a nautical phrase in her
society with impunity, which, when he attempted unwittingly in the
presence of his wife or niece, caused a gentle reprimand, and he was
obliged to "knock under," as he expressed it.
Mr. Morley and the captain were old friends. They had met often in
India; and no one was more concerned than Captain Courland at the loss
of Mr. Morley's brother. Many days were spent in scouring the country in
endeavouring to find some trace of him, but, alas! without effect. Nor
could they gain any intelligence of the strange woman whom Josiah had
seen, at a distance, and who, he verily believed, was Miss Freeman.
All their efforts having proved fruitless, Mr. Morley determined to
retrace his steps back to Cornwall once more; and Captain Courland,
feeling a deep interest in the discovery of his friend's brother,
proposed to his wife that they should accompany their friend there, and
help him in the search. This was the very thing Mrs. Courland wished--to
get away from the hall and its now unpleasant associations, and, above
all, to leave the object of her fear and guilt behind her. She believed
that Flora would be quite happy in the undisturbed possession of her
favourite rooms, and she could depend on her being taken care of by the
servants, for they all liked and pitied her. This would be a great
relief to her mind; and then she could give to her husband her undivided
attention, without the constant dread of discovery. But when the time of
departure arrived, to her great surprise and annoyance, Captain Courland
made arrangements for taking Flora in the travelling carriage with them,
and was quite angry at his wife's even hinting that Flora would be far
happier at the hall. The captain had become so attached to her, that she
seemed necessary now to his amusement and occupation. So she accompanied
them.