Eda Brandon sat in her room alone. Her fair face was somewhat paler
than when first it was presented to the reader's eyes, and the look of
sparkling cheerfulness was no longer there. It had grown very
thoughtful; but yet those who had seen her only four days before, if
they had keen and remarking eyes, would have perceived, when they
looked at her now, that, from some cause, a great alteration had very
recently taken place; that an expression of careless despondency was
gone; that there was, in fact, the light of hope renewed upon her
countenance. During the long pilgrimage she had made with her uncle,
it must not be supposed that Eda had cherished the melancholy which
had fallen upon her, that she had neglected any reasonable opportunity
of diverting her thoughts from the bitter subject of a hopeless
passion. All that was beautiful in nature; all that was fine and
admirable in art; all that was rich in association, or decorated by
memories, she eagerly sought and calmly dwelt upon, feeling that they
were objects which might well give the mind occupation, without
altogether jarring with the sadder tones which rose continually from
the heart. It was only society that she avoided: the society of the
world, which, in reality and truth, is not society at all; for the
mere herding together of a certain number of human beings, with hardly
a thought or feeling in common, deserves a very different name. There
might be, also, a certain portion of apprehension in her thus flying
from the mixed crowd. She had a sort of presentiment that her uncle
would seek to force some match upon her, in the idle expectation of
weaning her heart from a passion which, although it had not lately
been mentioned between them, she felt convinced he must see traces of
each day; and as at every instant she felt that her love for Dudley
could never decay, as she longed to be with him more and more, she was
anxious to avoid anything which could bring on discussions equally
painful to herself and to Sir Arthur. Thus their journey had passed in
visiting many distant scenes, and so far as this could afford
amusement, Eda had gained something by the continual change; but
whenever they stopped, the same dark gloom fell upon her, and it
became the more profound when, at the end of a tour even longer than
had been at first proposed, they returned to take up their residence
at Brandon.
Sir Arthur, with the pertinacity which characterised him, and the
somewhat impenetrable blindness to the character of others, which is
universal, I believe, in vain and self-sufficient men, still pursued
his purposes with regard to Eda; and thinking that the opportunities
of a country residence would be most favourable to his schemes, filled
the house with gentlemen, each of whom, he thought, might be a
suitable match for his fair niece, and who were not at all indifferent
to the advantages of wedding broad lands and well-economised revenues.
There was a middle-aged peer, and a young and wealthy baronet, and a
simple esquire, enormously rich in everything but brains, and a
captain of dragoons, the nephew and presumptive heir to a duke, who,
to say the truth, was the best of the party, for he was a man of
feeling, of character, and of thought, a little enthusiastic, indeed,
in his notions, but whose imagination, in all its flights, soared
heavenward. He was the only one who even caught Eda's ear for more
than a moment, and he did so under somewhat curious circumstances, for
it was neither his abilities, the richness of his fancy, nor the
generous character of his mind, sparkling through his conversation,
which attracted her attention. On the contrary, as she saw from the
first that he sought her society rather eagerly, she was for a time
inclined to withdraw from him more decidedly than from the others,
when one day, shortly after his arrival, he said, almost abruptly,
"Miss Brandon, you are very sad, and I can see that all these people
tease you. I can divine the cause; but do not class me with them, for
if you suppose that I have come here with the same views and purposes,
you are mistaken."
"I do not exactly understand you," said Eda, gravely, "nor can I admit
exactly that my uncle's friends do tease me. I am not fond of much
society, but that is all."
"There is one way of explaining what I mean, Miss Brandon," answered
the other, "which will make you understand me without referring to
other men's views. It is by making you a confidant of that which is,
indeed, a great secret. I am engaged to a lady, whom I love most
sincerely, and have, indeed, been engaged for more than two years. She
is not rich, and I am very poor, and we say nothing about our mutual
understanding, for fear it should give offence to those with whom my
hopes of fortune rest. I have told you this, because I think it will
put your mind at ease, so far as I am concerned, and because I wish
much to speak with you upon another subject, of much interest, which
may occupy more time than we can now command alone. There, I knew how
it would be! Here comes Lord Kingsland, to say his soft nothings."
"Which I certainly shall not wait to hear," replied Eda, with a smile.
This brief conversation had taken place the day before, and now Eda
sat with an open letter before her, in the hand-writing of her cousin
Edgar. It was light and cheerful, though not very definite; but there
were two or three words in it which conveyed to Eda's mind more than
the general tone seemed to imply. All he said was, "Do not give way to
melancholy, my sweet cousin. Shake off the gloom which hung upon you
when you departed, for the melancholy is now without cause, and the
gloom is very useless. Storm-clouds last but a day or two, Eda; the
wind is up, and has wafted yours away."
Eda knew that Edgar would not so have written to her had he not had
better hopes in store than he ventured to express; and although she
had shared her uncle's surprise when she first heard that Edgar had
gone to Australia, she had felt what Sir Arthur had not felt: that he
had not taken that journey without a powerful motive.
It was the spring of the year; the days had not lengthened much, and
it was still dark at the dinner hour. Eda had dined in her own room
the day before, but now she prepared to go down with a lighter heart
than she had known for long, long months; and ringing for her maid,
conversed with her from time to time, while she dressed her hair. When
the girl's task was done, she went down to the housekeeper's room, not
without having remarked the change in her mistress; and there she told
her good old fellow-servant, with a shrewd and self-satisfied look.
"Miss Brandon's getting over it, I can tell you, Mrs. Gregson. The
captain's to be the man, I'm sure."
In the mean time, Eda proceeded to the drawing-room with a lightened
heart, and diversified the ceremonious moments which occur while
people are waiting for their meal, by damping, if not extinguishing,
any hopes Sir Arthur's guests might have conceived.
"Really, you look resplendent to-night, Miss Brandon," said the peer,
seating himself beside her. "The country air seems quite to have
refreshed you."
"I trust it may have the same effect upon your lordship in time,"
replied Eda; and a slight smile that came upon the lips of the young
dragoon gave more point than she intended to her words.
Lord Kingsland, however, was not so easily driven from his attack, and
he replied, "Oh! I do not think country air has any effect upon me. I
am so much accustomed to spend the whole spring in London, that the
air of the great city at that season of the year agrees with me by
habit better than that of the country."
"I feel very differently about it," replied Eda. "I should have
thought, from my own experience, that fifty or sixty springs in London
would shrivel any one to a mere mummy."
"Miss Brandon, Miss Brandon!" exclaimed the peer, with a smile, which
he intended to be perfectly courteous and good-humoured, but from
which he could not banish an expression of mortification, "I see the
air must be detrimental to one's looks, at all events, or you would
not pile so many years upon my head."
Eda would fain have apologised and explained, but Lord Kingsland had
enjoyed enough of her conversation for that evening, and he soon after
walked away.
The man of money next approached, dressed in the very height of the
fashion, and began speaking of the beauty and fertility of some parts
of the estate of Brandon, remarking how wide a space it occupied in
the map which hung in the hall.
"It is, indeed, of a goodly length and breadth," replied Eda; "almost
too extensive to be held by one individual. I am sufficient of a
politician to think it would be much better if large properties were
prevented from increasing. Moderate fortunes in the hands of many must
be better for a country than immense fortunes in the hands of a few."
"Very Spartan notions, indeed!" said the young gentleman; "but I dare
say you would not carry them out in practice."
"Undoubtedly," replied Eda, gaily; "I would prevent any man, having a
large estate, from acquiring another by any means."
There was no reply to this bold assertion; and the baronet who
followed seemed likely to call upon himself some as decided an
expression of opinion, when dinner was announced, and the peer
exercised his prerogative of taking Miss Brandon into the dining-room.
The meal passed off tranquilly and stupidly enough, and the pudding
and tart course was being removed, when a dull, heavy sound, like that
of a cannon, made the windows rattle in the sashes. Nobody took any
notice, however, for Mr. Filmer was describing, with powerful
eloquence, one of the ceremonies of the Romish church, the performance
of which he and Sir Arthur had witnessed at St. Peter's. At the
interval of about a minute, however, the same sound was repeated, and
after another interval the report was heard again.
"Those are minute-guns," said Sir Arthur Adelon. "Some ship got upon
the Dog-bank, I dare say, and the wind is blowing very high, too."
"I saw a very fine large bark just coming round the point," said Lord
Kingsland, "while I was taking a stroll upon the downs this evening.
Probably it is her guns we hear, for there was no other vessel in
sight."
"She must have passed the Dog, then, far," said Mr. Filmer, "and has
probably run upon the spit beyond Beach-rock. The wind sets thence, so
that we should hear the guns as clearly as we do now."
"More likely she has gone bump upon the shore," said Sir Arthur, "or
the low reefs which lie two or three hundred yards out. She would try
to hug the land as close as possible, to get into the bay, and avoid
the fury of the gale."
While these words were spoken on all parts, several more guns were
distinctly heard; and Eda, rising, with her face very pale, as the
first dishes of the dessert were set upon the table, retired, saying,
"I will send out some of the servants, my dear uncle. They may,
perhaps, give the fishermen some help in case of need."
"They will never arrive in time, my love," replied Sir Arthur, "if the
ship has got ashore. It must be fully twelve miles up to the spit, or
more; but do as you like."
"I will certainly send, if you have no objection," replied Eda. "The
men may aid to save a human life, and a walk or ride of twelve miles
is nothing in comparison."
Retiring into the drawing-room, Eda immediately rang the bell, and
ordered as many of the servants as could be spared, to get upon
horseback, and ride on as fast as possible in the direction from which
the sound of the guns seemed to proceed. Her orders were clear, calm,
and distinct, although her pale face and her trembling hand seemed to
show that she was greatly agitated. "Call all the country people as
you go," she said; "and tell them to hurry down to give assistance
with whatever their experience of the coast may lead them to think is
necessary. I know," she continued, "that the salvation of human life
is not rewarded by the law or by government, while enormous rewards
follow the saving of property; but tell the men that I will give ten
guineas for every life that is saved by their exertions."
"Ten guineas, ma'am?" said the butler, to whom she spoke. "That is a
great deal."
"Ten guineas, or more," replied Eda, in a firm tone, "if it be
necessary to quicken their efforts. Now, make haste." And lifting her
eyes to the door, she perceived that the young captain of dragoons was
standing just upon the nearer side of the threshold. She coloured a
little as she saw him, for real enthusiasts have generally a certain
degree of shyness with them; but as soon as she had ceased speaking
the officer advanced, saying, "I will go with the men, Miss Brandon.
They need somebody to lead and to direct, and I am not unaccustomed to
such transactions. Hark! the guns seem to have ceased, but that is no
sign that the poor souls are out of danger, and I will set out
directly."
"I will not thank you, Captain M----," said Eda Brandon, "for I have
no personal interest in these poor people; but your own heart will
thank you, and God will bless you for your readiness on this
occasion."
He left her and departed; and Eda sat in solitude, with her head
resting on her hand, for nearly half an hour, with feelings which it
would be very difficult to describe, for they were sensations for
which no reasonable cause could be assigned; phantom fears, which
seemed to rise out of the depth of night, unevoked by anything more
tangible than themselves. At length she was joined by the rest of the
party, and strove to maintain a tranquil and equal demeanour, although
the utter indifference she saw around her to the fate of a number of
human beings perishing, perhaps, within a few miles, rather tended to
increase than to diminish the agitation which she felt. Mr. Filmer sat
down to play at chess with the younger baronet, and beat him most
signally, giving him a piece. Sir Arthur and Lord Kingsland played at
piquet; and she was left to the tender mercies of the rich young
commoner, who entertained her with an account of graperies and
pine-pits, gave her a lecture upon the horticultural gardens, and was
even deviating into some account of stock and piggeries, when Eda
herself turned the conversation. Eleven o'clock arrived, and nobody,
appeared, but Eda made no movement to go. The chessmen were by this
time discarded; three games of piquet had been played, and Sir Arthur
had rung for wine and water, when Captain M---- entered with a calm
and easy air, and walking up at once to Eda, without taking the least
notice of any one else, he said, in a low tone, "There is some one in
the library who will be glad to see you, and whom you will be glad to
see. Do not agitate yourself," he continued, seeing that she trembled
very much, "all is safe."
But before I proceed to relate what followed, I must notice the events
which had taken place between the time at which Captain M---- set out
on his expedition and that at which he returned.