There were two persons in Brandon House who suffered deeply on the
morning when Dudley was carried away to prison; and each mistakenly
encouraged some degree of self-reproach, such as none but delicate
minds can feel, for having unwittingly and unwillingly placed one they
loved in a dangerous and painful position. Eda Brandon thought, "Had I
not taxed his generosity to forgive, uninquiringly, injuries of which
he knew not the extent, and to go forth to save from disgrace and
danger the very man who had inflicted them, this false charge could
never have been brought."
Edgar Adelon said to himself, "If I had not communicated to him all my
suspicions regarding the conduct of this young reptile lord towards my
sweet Helen, he would not, in a fit of generous indignation, have done
that which has brought him into peril and sorrow. Oh, that I had had
any other friend at hand to consult upon the conduct I should pursue!
Oh, that Helen, telling me all, had justified me in driving forth the
viper from my cousin's house! Oh, that Father Peter had not withheld
the tale of all the insults that she suffered, till it was too late
for me to act, and another had punished the offender as I ought to
have done!"
Such thoughts passed through his mind about two hours after Dudley's
removal from Brandon, and while Eda was still in her own room, to
which she had been carried as soon as the house had resumed its usual
state. Mr. Filmer and Sir Arthur Adelon were closeted in the library;
and the only apparent result of their conversation as yet had been an
order for one of the grooms to ride as fast as possible to Barhampton,
and bring four post-horses to carry the baronet on his way to London.
"What can I do? How can I act?" Edgar Adelon asked himself. "I must
have some one to consult with, and I know not whom. I do not believe
my father loves Dudley in his heart. I have seen him eye him with an
expression of dislike; and I will not trust the priest. Good man as he
is, his policy is always a subtle one. It is a pity that, with those
Italians, amongst whom he lived so long, he acquired that covert and
indirect mode of dealing. His purposes and ends are always right, I do
believe: too right and honest to be sought by crooked means. I must
talk with Eda; she is candour and truth itself, and yet has wit enough
to put all Filmer's arts at fault. I will talk with her;" and with his
usual hasty action, he was going at once to put his purpose in
execution, when he heard his father come out of the library, go up the
stairs, and knock at his cousin's door.
Sir Arthur remained long with his niece; and Edgar, who remained in
the room below for some time, thought he heard his father's voice
sometimes raised higher than usual. At other times, however, it
sounded with a low murmur, as if holding a long and earnest argument.
The young man grew impatient at length, and going forth into the park,
he wandered about for nearly an hour, and when he returned, found Sir
Arthur's post-chariot at the door, ready to bear him away.
"Your father has been waiting for you, Mr. Adelon," said the butler;
"he is in the breakfast-room." And Edgar immediately directed his
steps thither, without asking any questions.
"Why, Edgar, did you not know I was going?" demanded the baronet, as
soon as his son appeared; and then, without waiting for a reply, he
proceeded: "It is necessary for me, my dear boy, to go up to London at
once, to break the sad intelligence of Lord Hadley's death to his poor
mother. In the mean time, I think it will be better for you, more
decent, more proper, to meddle as little as possible with the affairs
of a gentleman charged with having produced his death, at least till
after he has had a fair trial, and is acquitted or found guilty. I
have some other business of importance to transact in London, but I
trust to be down in time to be present at the funeral, if it is to be
performed here. Mr. Filmer will make all the necessary arrangements,
according to the directions he will receive."
Edgar Adelon was, like most young men, somewhat wrong-headed. His
disposition was too firm and generous for him to be spoiled, as it is
usually called; but he had been very much indulged, and usually took
his own way. He never, indeed, showed the least want of respect
towards his father, in word or manner; but he generally followed the
course which suited him best, with less reverence in his actions than
in his deportment. On the present occasion, then, he made no reply,
but remained determined to do everything he could for Dudley,
notwithstanding all opposition. After a few more words from Sir
Arthur, Edgar accompanied his father to the door of the carriage, took
leave of him, and then at once mounted the stairs to Eda's room, and
knocked at the door.
"Go into my little sitting-room, Edgar," said Eda, who knew his step,
"and I will come to you directly. I wish much to speak to you, my dear
cousin."
But Eda kept him some time waiting, and when she came at length, Edgar
saw that tears had been late visitants in her eyes.
"Do not grieve, Eda, dear," said Edgar, taking her hand kindly. "This
will all pass away; but let you and I sit down together, and consult
what can best be done for poor Dudley. He will be acquitted, to a
certainty, I think: nay, I am sure."
"I do not know, Edgar," answered Eda; "but in the mean time we must do
all we can to help and comfort him; and that is why I wished to speak
with you so much, for I know no one but you who seem to love him
here."
"Oh, yes! there is one other, Eda," answered Edgar, with a smile; "one
who loves him very well, I think."
The colour rose in Eda's cheek, but she raised her eyes to his,
answering at once, "There certainly is, Edgar, and I have just told
your father so. I avow it, Edgar, the more frankly, because it is
necessary, if we really would serve him, to have no concealments from
each other. We have jested and laughed over such things, Edgar; but
now it is necessary that we should speak plainly, both of your
situation and mine."
"First, then, tell me what my father said," answered Edgar. "I promise
you, Eda, dear, I will have no concealments from you now. You are a
sweet, kind, affectionate girl as ever lived, and you have neither
pride nor prejudices which should make me afraid to tell you all my
own feelings. Let me hear what my father answered when you told him of
Dudley's love, and what you said to him again."
"He said much, Edgar, that was very unpleasant," replied Eda; "but do
not let me dwell upon it. He found me firmer than he expected, and he
is now fully aware of my intentions, and moreover, aware that he can
never change them: at least I hope so, for what I said should leave no
doubt. But now to other matters. I think you have a sincere affection
for Dudley: is it not so?"
"I would lay down my life for him," answered Edgar Adelon. "But when I
said that there was another who loved him well too, I did not
altogether mean you, Eda, but I meant Mr. Filmer."
Eda waved her hand and shook her head. "Your religious feelings blind
you, Edgar," she said. "Mr. Filmer does not love him: never has loved
him. There was a peculiar look came into his face the very first
moment he saw Dudley here, which you did not remark, but which I did,
and which I have remarked more than once before, when any one whom he
hates approaches him. It is but for a moment, but it is very distinct;
and moreover, I have seldom seen any one call up that look who has not
somehow fallen into misfortune. Do you remember the farmer Hadyer,
upon your father's estate in Yorkshire, and how, after being in very
prosperous circumstances, he was soon totally ruined? Well, the first
time I saw the poor man come up to speak to your father when Mr.
Filmer was present, that look came into the priest's face."
"Nay, it is you are prejudiced, Eda," replied her cousin. "What
offence could poor Hadyer have given to Father Peter, and how was he
instrumental in his ruin?"
"His wife had been a Catholic, and became a Protestant the year
before," answered Eda. "How his ruin was brought about, I do not know;
but I heard Mr. Filmer dissuade your father from granting what Hadyer
asked, and which seemed to me but just and equitable. He said nothing
in the man's presence; but when he was gone, and he found your father
was inclined to accede, he urged that if your father granted the
remission of half a year's rent to one farmer on account of the flood
which carried away double the value of corn, he would have some such
accidents happening to some of the tenants every year. But all this is
irrelevant; Mr. Filmer loves him not: of that I am quite sure. We must
seek other counsel, Edgar, and find means to prove Dudley's innocence.
There is one, I think, who can supply it, if she will, and you must go
to her and seek it; for, if I am not mistaken," and Eda smiled as she
fixed her eyes upon him, "your voice will be more powerful with her
than that of any other human being."
"You mean dear Helen Clive," replied Edgar. "Eda, you have made your
confession; and mine is soon made. Helen Clive shall be my wife,
whatever obstacles may stand in the way. She, too, would, if she
could, I am sure, show sufficient justification for what Dudley did.
It was an act of righteous vengeance upon as base a man as ever
breathed."
"What do you mean, Edgar?" exclaimed Eda Brandon, gazing at him as he
spoke, with a flushed cheek and flashing eye. "You do not really
believe that Dudley did kill this unhappy young man?"
"I do, Eda," answered her cousin; "but listen to me." And he proceeded
to tell her all he knew--and it was but a part--of Lord Hadley's
conduct to Helen Clive. He spoke, too, of how he had himself, on the
preceding morning, informed Dudley of the facts, acknowledged his own
love for Helen, and asked the advice of his friend as to the course he
ought to pursue.
"He soothed, comforted, calmed me, Eda," continued the young man: "and
in the end, told me to leave the affair in his hands, and he would
take care that my own dear, gentle Helen should be insulted no more.
From the evidence given by the servants, it is clear that Dudley and
the other had a bitter quarrel upon this very theme; that the
wrongdoer was insolent in his wrong, and provoked his monitor more
than patience could endure. Dudley is by nature fiery and impetuous,
Eda, and depend upon it, they met last night; this base peer provoked
his nobler friend, and Dudley struck a blow which, though
unintentionally, punished him as he deserved."
Eda mused sadly for a moment; but she then replied, "No, Edgar, no!
Your father told me that Dudley solemnly denied the act. Were it as
you say, he would not have done so. Impetuous he may be; but most
decided in right and truth he is, and always has been. He would have
told the tale of what had happened as it did happen; the act and the
motive would have stood forth clear together, and he would have left
the rest to fate. But besides, I know he did not do it. He went out at
my request, on business, which nothing, I am sure, would have turned
him from. The dinner was somewhat late, the hour named fast
approaching, and I could see his anxiety to go. He would not, I know,
have gone ten steps out of his way at that moment on any account
whatever. No, Edgar, he did not do it; and Helen, perhaps, may help us
to the proofs, for she must know who the men were that Dudley was to
meet near Mead's farm. There were others about, too, I am sure, and by
their testimony we may perhaps show, step by step, every yard of the
way that Dudley took. Go to her, Edgar--go to her at once. Why do you
shake your head?"
"Because, dear Eda, Helen is no longer within reach," replied Edgar
Adelon; "she embarked last night with her father, who was implicated
in this mad rising and attempt upon Barhampton."
Eda sat speechless with surprise and consternation, Her hope of
proving Dudley's innocence had been based entirely upon the
information which could be given by Helen Clive; and now to find that
she was gone, and evidently to a distance, too, seemed to strike her
with despair. From her uncle, and from the servants, she had gleaned a
very accurate idea of all the evidence which had been given before the
coroner's jury; and she had seen, from the first, the difficulties of
her lover's situation, with far more alarm than he himself had felt;
but her mind was quick and intelligent, and turned, after a temporary
pause of consternation, to consider what was best next to be done.
"Fear not, Eda, dear," continued Edgar, seeing the expression of alarm
upon her face; "I must soon hear where Helen is. She has promised to
write to me whenever she arrives in France, and to let me know where
she is to be found. At all events, the priest must know."
"Stay, stay, Edgar!" said Eda. "Helen's evidence would be too late. My
uncle tells me the assizes will be held in ten days, and you must
trust Mr. Filmer in nothing, Edgar. You think I am prejudiced, but it
is not so. I know him, my dear cousin. But there is another way. If we
could but find a person named Norries, he might assist us."
"Why, that was the very leader of these men," said Edgar, somewhat
sharply. "I heard him myself harangue them two nights ago on the
little green before the old priory, and he used my father's name in a
false and shameless manner."
"Alas! in too true a manner, Edgar," answered Eda. "I must tell you
all now, Edgar, for Dudley must not be sacrificed. His object in going
out that night, was to save my uncle from participating in acts that
may bring ruin on his head. Whether he succeeded in persuading him to
desist or not, I do not know, for I did not dare to ask your father;
but be assured, Edgar, that up to eight o'clock last night, it was Sir
Arthur's intention to be present with, if not to lead, the people who
attacked Barhampton. It was I who urged Dudley to go."
"But what could he do?" demanded Edgar. "You know my father in such
circumstances attends to no advice."
"True," answered Eda; "but Dudley had a power over him, Edgar." And
she proceeded to explain all that she herself knew of the dark
transactions in which Sir Arthur Adelon had been engaged in former
years. She put it gently and kindly, not as an accusation, but as an
unfortunate fact; and she told how generously Dudley had promised at
once, when he heard the means Norries had employed to urge her uncle
forward on so fatal a course, that he would assure Sir Arthur, on his
word of honour, to destroy the papers spoken of, without even looking
at them.
Edgar's check at first flushed, and then turned pale, and in the end,
he covered his eyes with his hands, and remained buried in thought.
"Helen told me," continued Eda, willing to lead his mind away from the
more painful part of the subject, "that whoever I sent to seek my
uncle would find some men waiting near the place called Mead's farm.
There were watches, she told, along the whole line of road, and some
of them surely saw Dudley pass. At all events, Norries can give
information, if any one; and the only difficulty will be to find him."
"I will find him," cried Edgar Adelon, starting up; "but then," he
added, "perhaps he may have left the country too. I will seek him,
however, let him be where he will, and find him if it be in human
power to do so, for Dudley shall not suffer for his noble and generous
devotion."
"But let us consider, Edgar, how Norries can best be heard of," said
Eda; but Edgar waved his hand with that bright, happy thing, the smile
of youthful confidence, upon his face, and answered, "I will find him,
dear girl, I will find him. I know several of the men who were with
him. I recognised their faces at the priory; but I will about it at
once, for there is no time to be lost."