Colonel Bramleigh turned over and over, without breaking the seal, a
letter which, bearing the postmark of Rome and in a well-known hand, he
knew came from Lady Augusta.
That second marriage of his had been a great mistake. None of the social
advantages he had calculated on with such certainty had resulted from
it. His wife's distinguished relatives had totally estranged themselves
from her, as though she had made an unbecoming and unworthy alliance;
his own sons and daughters had not concealed their animosity to their
new stepmother; and, in fact, the best compromise the blunder admitted
of was that they should try to see as little as possible of each other;
and as they could not obliterate the compact, they should, as far as in
them lay, endeavor to ignore it.
There are no more painful aids to a memory unwilling to be taxed than a
banker's half-yearly statement; and in the long record which Christmas
had summoned, and which now lay open before Bramleigh's eyes, were
frequent and weighty reminders of Lady Augusta's expensive ways.
He had agreed to allow her a thousand napoleons--about eight hundred
pounds--quarterly, which was, and which she owned was, a most liberal
and sufficient sum to live on alone, and in a city comparatively cheap.
He had, however, added, with a courtesy that the moment of parting might
have suggested, “Whenever your tastes or your comforts are found to be
hampered in any way by the limits I have set down, you will do me the
favor to draw directly on 'the house,' and I will take care that your
checks shall be attended to.”
The smile with which she thanked him was still in his memory. Since
the memorable morning in Berkeley Square when she accepted his offer
of marriage, he had seen nothing so fascinating--nor, let us add, so
fleeting--as this gleam of enchantment. Very few days had sufficed to
show him how much this meteor flash of loveliness had cost him; and now,
as he sat conning over a long line of figures, he bethought him that
the second moment of witchery was very nearly as expensive as the first.
When he made her that courteous offer of extending the limits of her
civil list he had never contemplated how far she could have pushed
his generosity, and now, to his amazement, he discovered that in a
few months she had already drawn for seven thousand pounds, and had
intimated to the house that the first instalment of the purchase money
of a villa would probably be required some time early in May; the
business-like character of this “advice” being, however, sadly
disparaged by her having totally forgotten to say anything as to the
amount of the impending demand.
It was in a very unlucky moment--was there ever a lucky one?--when these
heavy demands presented themselves. Colonel Bramleigh had latterly
taken to what he thought, or at least meant to be, retrenchment. He was
determined, as he said himself, to “take the bull by the horns;” but
the men who perform this feat usually select a very small bull. He had
nibbled, as it were, at the hem of the budget; he had cut down “the
boys'” allowances. “What could Temple want with five hundred a year? Her
Majesty gave him four, and her Majesty certainly never intended to
take his services without fitting remuneration. As to Jack having three
hundred, it was downright absurdity: it was extravagances like these
destroyed the navy; besides, Jack had got his promotion, and his pay
ought to be something handsome.” With regard to Augustus, he only went
so far as certain remonstrances about horse keep and some hints about
the iniquities of a German valet who, it was rumored, had actually
bought a house in Duke Street, St. James's, out of his peculations in
the family.
The girls were not extravagantly provided for, but for example's sake he
reduced their allowance by one-third.
Ireland was not a country for embroidered silks or Genoa velvet. It
would be an admirable lesson to others if they were to see the young
ladies of the great house dressed simply and unpretentiously. “These
things could only be done by people of station. Such examples must
proceed from those whose motives could not be questioned.” He dismissed
the head gardener, and he was actually contemplating the discharge
of the French cook, though he well foresaw the storm of opposition so
strong a measure was sure to evoke. When he came to sum up his reforms
he was shocked to find that the total only reached a little over twelve
hundred pounds, and this in a household of many thousands.
Was not Castello, too, a mistake? Was not all this princely style
of living, in a county without a neighborhood, totally unvisited by
strangers, a capital blunder? He had often heard of the cheapness of
life in Ireland; and what a myth it was! He might have lived in Norfolk
for what he was spending in Downshire, and though he meant to do great
things for the country, a doubt was beginning to steal over him as to
how they were to be done. He had often insisted that absenteeism was the
bane of Ireland, and yet for the life of him he could not see how his
residence there was to prove a blessing.
Lady Augusta, with her separate establishment, was spending above three
thousand a year. Poor man, he was grumbling to himself over this, when
that precious document from the bank arrived with the astounding news
of her immense extravagance. He laid her letter down again; he had not
temper to read it. It was so sure to be one of those frivolous little
levities which jar so painfully on serious feelings. He knew so well
the half-jestful, excuses she would make for her wastefulness, the
coquettish prettinesses she would deploy in describing her daily life
of mock simplicity, and utter recklessness as to cost, that he muttered,
“Not now,” to himself, as he pushed the letter away. And as he did so
he discovered a letter in the hand of Mr. Sedley, his law agent. He had
himself written a short note to that gentleman, at Jack's request; for
Jack--who, like all sailors, believed in a First Lord, and implicitly
felt that no promotion ever came rightfully--wanted a special
introduction to the great men at Somerset House, a service which Sedley,
who knew every one, could easily render him. This note of Sedley's then,
doubtless, referred to that matter, and though Bramleigh did not feel
any great or warm interest in the question, he broke the envelope to
read it rather as a relief than otherwise. It was at least a new topic,
and it could not be a very exciting one. The letter ran thus:--
“Tuesday, January 15.
“My dear Sir,--
“Hicklay will speak to the First Lord at the earliest convenient
moment, but as Captain Bramleigh has just got his promotion, he does not
see what can be done in addition. I do not suppose your son would like a
dockyard appointment, but a tolerably snug berth will soon be vacant at
Malta, and as Captain B. will be in town to-morrow, I shall wait upon
him early, and learn his wishes in the matter. There is a great talk
to-day of changes in the Cabinet, and some rumor of a dissolution. These
reports and disquieting news from France have brought the funds down
one-sixth. Burrows and Black have failed--the Calcutta house had made
some large tea speculation, it is said, without the knowledge of the
partners here. At all events, the liabilities will exceed a million;
available assets not a hundred thousand. I hope you will not suffer,
or if so, to only a trifling extent, as I know you lately declined the
advances Black so pressed upon you.”
“He's right there,” muttered Bramleigh. “I wouldn't touch those indigo
bonds. When old Grant began to back up the natives, I saw what would
become of the planters. All meddling with the labor market in India is
mere gambling, and whenever a man makes his _coup_ he ought to go off
with his money. What's all this here,” muttered he, “about Talookdars
and Ryots? He ought to know this question cannot interest me.”
“I met Kelson yesterday; he was very close and guarded, but my
impression is that they are doing nothing in the affair of the
'Pretender.' I hinted jocularly something about having a few thousands
by me if he should happen to know of a good investment, and, in the same
careless way, he replied, 'I 'll drop in some morning at the office, and
have a talk with you.' There was a significance in his manner that gave
me to believe he meant a 'transaction.' We shall see. I shall add a few
lines to this after I have seen Captain B. to-morrow. I must now hurry
off to Westminster.”
Bramleigh turned over, and read the following:--
“Wednesday, 16.
“On going to the 'Drummond' this morning to breakfast, by appointment
with your son, I found him dressing, but talking with the occupant of a
room on the opposite side of the sitting-room, where breakfast was
laid for three. Captain B., who seemed in excellent health and spirits,
entered freely on the subject of the shore appointment, and when
I suggested caution in discussing it, told me there was no need of
reserve, that he could say what he pleased before his friend--'whom, by
the way,' said he, 'I am anxious to make known to you. You are the very
man to give him first-rate advice, and if you cannot take up his case
yourself to recommend him to some one of trust and character.' While we
were talking, the stranger entered,--a young man, short, good-looking,
and of good address. 'I want, to present you to Mr. Sedley,' said
Captain B., 'and I'll be shot if I don't forget your name.'
“'I half doubt if you ever knew it,' said the other, laughing; and,
turning to me, added, 'Our friendship is of short date. We met as
travellers, but I have seen enough of life to know that the instinct
that draws men towards each other is no bad guarantee for mutual
liking.' He said this with a slightly foreign accent, but fluently and
easily.
“We now sat down to table, and though not being gifted with that
expansiveness that the stranger spoke of, I soon found myself listening
with pleasure to the conversation of a very shrewd and witty man, who
had seen a good deal of life. Perhaps I may have exhibited some trait of
the pleasure he afforded me--perhaps I may have expressed it in words;
at all events your son marked the effect produced upon me, and in a
tone of half jocular triumph, cried out, 'Eh, Sedley, you 'll stand by
him--won't you? I 've told him if there was a man in England to carry
him through a stiff campaign you were the fellow.' I replied by some
commonplace, and rose soon after to proceed to court. As the foreigner
had also some business at the Hall, I offered him a seat in my cab. As
we went along, he spoke freely of himself and his former life, and gave
me his card, with the name 'Anatole Pracontal'--one of the aliases of
our Pretender. So that here I was for two hours in close confab with the
enemy, to whom I was actually presented by your own son! So overwhelming
was this announcement that I really felt unable to take any course,
and doubted whether I ought not at once to have told him who his
fellow-traveller was. I decided at last for the more cautious line, and
asked him to come and see me at Fulham. We parted excellent friends.
Whether he will keep his appointment or not I am unable to guess. By a
special good fortune--so I certainly must deem it--Captain Bramleigh was
telegraphed for to Portsmouth, and had to leave town at once. So that
any risks from that quarter are avoided. Whether this strange meeting
will turn out well or ill, whether it will be misinterpreted by Kelson
when he comes to hear it,--for it would be hard to believe it all
accident,--and induce him to treat us with distrust and suspicion, or
whether it may conduce to a speedy settlement of everything, is more
than I can yet say.
“I am so far favorably impressed by M. Pracontal's manner and address
that I think he ought not to be one difficult to deal with. What may be
his impression, however, when he learns with whom he has been talking
so freely, is still doubtful to me. He cannot, it is true, mistrust your
son, but he may feel grave doubts about _me_.
“I own I do not expect to see him to-morrow. Kelson will certainly
advise him against such a step, nor do I yet perceive what immediate
good would result from our meeting, beyond the assuring him--as I
certainly should--that all that had occurred was pure chance, and that,
though perfectly familiar with his name and his pretensions, I had not
the vaguest suspicion of his identity till I read his card. It may be
that out of this strange blunder good may come. Let us hope it. I will
write to-morrow.
“Truly yours,
“M. Sedley.”
Colonel Bramleigh re-read every line of the letter carefully; and as he
laid it down with a sigh, he said, “What a complication of troubles on
my hands! At the very moment that I am making engagements to relieve
others, I may not have the means to meet my own difficulties. Sedley
was quite wrong to make any advances to this man; they are sure to be
misinterpreted. Kelson will think we are afraid, and raise his terms
with us accordingly.” Again his eyes fell upon Lady Augusta's letter;
but he had no temper now to encounter all the light gossip and frivolity
it was sure to contain. He placed it in his pocket, and set out to take
a walk. He wanted to think, but he also wanted the spring and energy
which come of brisk exercise. He felt his mind would work more freely
when he was in motion; and in the open air, too, he should escape
from the terrible oppression of being continually confronted by
himself--which he felt while he was in the solitude of his study.
“If M. Pracontal measure us by the standard of Master Jack,” muttered
he, bitterly, “he will opine that the conflict ought not to be a tough
one. What fools these sailors are when you take them off their own
element; and what a little bit of a world is the quarter-deck of a
frigate! Providence has not blessed me with brilliant sons; that is
certain. It was through Temple we have come to know Lord Culduff; and
I protest I anticipate little of either profit or pleasure from the
acquaintanceship. As for Augustus, he is only so much shrewder than
the others, that he is more cautious; his selfishness is immensely
preservative.” This was not, it must be owned, a flattering estimate
that he made of his sons; but he was a man to tell hard truths to
himself; and to tell them roughly and roundly too, like one who, when
he had to meet a difficulty in life, would rather confront it in its
boldest shape.
So essentially realistic was the man's mind, that, till he had actually
under his eyes these few lines describing Pracontal's look and manner,
he had never been able to convince himself that this pretender was an
actual _bona fide_ creature. Up to this, the claim had been a vague
menace, and no more, a tradition that ended in a threat! There was the
whole of it! Kelson had written to Sedley, and Sedley to Kelson. There
had been a half-amicable contest, a sort of round with the gloves, in
which these two crafty men appeared rather like great moralists than
cunning lawyers. Had they been peacemakers by Act of Parliament, they
could not have urged more strenuously the advantages of amity and
kindliness; how severely they censured the contentious spirit which
drove men into litigation! and how beautifully they showed the Christian
benefit of an arbitration “under the court,” the costs to be equitably
divided!
Throughout the whole drama, however, M. Pracontal had never figured as
an active character of the piece; and for all that Bramleigh could see,
the machinery might work to the end, and the catastrophe be announced,
not only without ever producing him, but actually without his having
ever existed. If from time to time he might chance to read in the public
papers of a suspicious foreigner, a “Frenchman or Italian of fashionable
appearance,” having done this, that, or t'other, he would ask himself at
once, “I wonder could that be _my_ man? Is that the adventurer who wants
to replace me here?” As time, however, rolled on, and nothing came out
of this claim more palpable than a dropping letter from Sedley, to say
he had submitted such a point to counsel, or he thought that the enemy
seemed disposed to come to terms, Bramleigh actually began to regard the
whole subject as a man might the danger of a storm, which, breaking afar
off, might probably waste all its fury before it reached him.
Now, however, these feelings of vague, undefined doubt were to give way
to a very palpable terror. His own son had seen Pracontal, and sat at
table with him. Pracontal was a good-looking, well-mannered fellow,
with, doubtless, all the readiness and the aplomb of a clever foreigner;
not a creature of mean appearance and poverty-struck aspect, whose very
person would disparage his pretensions, but a man with the bearing of
the world and the habits of society.
So sudden and so complete was this revulsion, and so positively did it
depict before him an actual conflict, that he could only think of how
to deal with Pracontal personally, by what steps it might be safest
to approach him, and how to treat a man whose changeful fortunes must
doubtless have made him expert in difficulties, and at the same time a
not unlikely dupe to well-devised and well-applied flatteries.
To have invited him frankly to Castello--to have assumed that it was a
case in which a generous spirit might deal far more successfully than
all the cavils and cranks of the law, was Bramleigh's first thought; but
to do this with effect, he must confide the whole story of the peril to
some at least of the family; and this, for many reasons, he could not
stoop to. Bramleigh certainly attached no actual weight to this man's
claim; he did not in his heart believe that there was any foundation for
his pretension; but Sedley had told him that there was case enough to
go to a jury, and a jury meant exposure, publicity, comment, and very
unpleasant comment too, when party hatred should contribute its venom
to the discussion. If, then, he shrunk from imparting this story to his
sons and daughters, how long could he count on secrecy?--only till next
assizes perhaps. At the first notice of trial the whole mischief
would be out, and the matter be a world-wide scandal. Sedley advised
a compromise, but the time was very unpropitious for this. It was
downright impossible to get money at the moment. Every one was bent on
“realizing,” in presence of all the crashes and bankruptcies around.
None would lend on the best securities, and men were selling out at
ruinous loss to meet pressing engagements. For the very first time in
his life, Bramleigh felt what it was to want for ready money. He had
every imaginable kind of wealth. Houses and lands, stocks, shares,
ships, costly deposits and mortgages,--everything in short but gold; and
yet it was gold alone could meet the emergency. How foolish it was of
him to involve himself in Lord Culduflf's difficulties at such a crisis;
had he not troubles enough of his own? Would that essenced and enamelled
old dandy have stained his boots to have served _him?_ That was a very
unpleasant query, which would cross his mind, and never obtain anything
like a satisfactory reply. Would not his calculation probably be that
Bramleigh was amply recompensed for all he could do by the honor of
being deemed the friend of a noble lord, so highly placed, and so much
thought of in the world?
As for Lady Augusta's extravagance, it was simply insufferable. He had
been most liberal to her because he would not permit that whatever might
be the nature of the differences that separated them, money in any shape
should enter. There must be nothing sordid or mean in the tone of any
discussion between them. She might prefer Italy to Ireland; sunshine to
rain, a society of idle, leisure-loving, indolent, soft-voiced men, to
association with sterner, severer, and more energetic natures. She might
affect to think climate all essential to her, and the society of her
sister a positive necessity. All these he might submit to, but he
was neither prepared to be ruined by her wastefulness, nor maintain a
controversy as to the sum she should spend.
“If we come to figures, it must be a fight,” muttered he, “and an
ignoble fight too; and it is to that we are now approaching.”
“I think I can guess what is before me here,” said he, with a grim
smile, as he tore open the letter and prepared to read it. Now, though
on this occasion his guess was not exactly correct, nor did the epistle
contain the graceful little nothings by which her ladyship was wont
to chronicle her daily life, we forbear to give it _in extenso_ to our
readers; first of all, because it opened with a very long and intricate.
explanation of motives which was no explanation at all, and then
proceeded by an equally prolix narrative to announce a determination
which was only to be final on approval. In two words, Lady Augusta was
desirous of changing her religion; but before becoming a Catholic, she
wished to know if Colonel Bramleigh would make a full and irrevocable
settlement on her of her present allowance, giving her entire power over
its ultimate disposal, for she hinted that the sum might be
capitalized; the recompense for such splendid generosity being the noble
consciousness of a very grand action, and his own liberty. To the latter
she adverted with becoming delicacy, slyly hinting that in the church to
which he belonged there might probably be no very strenuous objections
made, should he desire to contract new ties, and once more re-enter the
bonds of matrimony.
The expression which burst aloud from Bramleigh as he finished the
letter, conveyed all that he felt on the subject.
“What outrageous effrontery! The first part of this precious document
is written by a priest, and the second by an attorney. It begins by
informing me that I am a heretic, and politely asks me to add to that
distinction the honor of being a beggar. What a woman! I have done, I
suppose, a great many foolish things in life, but I shall not cap them
so far, I promise you, Lady Augusta, by an endowment of the Catholic
Church. No, my Lady, you shall give the new faith you are about to adopt
the most signal proof of your sincerity, by renouncing all worldliness
at the threshold; and as the nuns cut off their silken tresses, you
shall rid yourself of that wealth which we are told is such a barrier
against heaven. Far be it from me,” said he with a sardonic bitterness,
“who have done so little for your happiness here, to peril your welfare
hereafter.”
“I will answer this at once,” said he. “It shall not remain one post
without its reply.”
He arose to return to the house; but in his pre-occupation he continued
to walk till he reached the brow of the cliff from which the roof of the
curate's cottage was seen about a mile off.. The peaceful stillness of
the scene, where not a leaf moved, and where the sea washed lazily along
the low strand with a sweeping motion that gave no sound, calmed and
soothed him. Was it not to taste that sweet sense of repose that he had
quitted the busy life of cities and come to this lone, sequestered
spot? Was not this very moment, as he now felt it, the realization of a
long-cherished desire? Had the world anything better in all its
prizes, he asked himself, than the peaceful enjoyment of an uncheckered
existence? “Shall I not try to carry out what once I had planned to
myself, and live my life as I intended?”
He sat down on the brow of the crag and looked out over the sea. A
gentle, but not unpleasant sadness was creeping over him. It was one of
those moments--every man has had them--in which the vanity of life and
the frivolity of all its ambitions present themselves to the mind far
more forcibly than ever they appear when urged from the pulpit. There
is no pathos, no bad taste, no inflated description in the workings
of reflectiveness. When we come to compute with ourselves what we
have gained by our worldly successes, and to make a total of all our
triumphs, we arrive at a truer insight into the nothingness of what
we are contending for than we ever attain through the teaching of our
professional moralists.
Colonel Bramleigh had made considerable progress along this peaceful
track since he sat down there. Could he only be sure to accept the
truths he had been repeating to himself without any wavering or
uncertainty; could he have resolution enough to conform his life to
these convictions--throw over all ambitions, and be satisfied with
mere happiness--was this prize not within his reach? Temple and Marion,
perhaps, might resist; but he was certain the others would agree
with him. While he thus pondered, he heard the low murmur of voices,
apparently near him; he listened, and perceived that some persons were
talking as they mounted the zigzag path which led up from the bottom
of the gorge, and which had to cross and re-cross continually before it
gained the summit. A thick hedge of laurel and arbutus fenced the path
on either side so completely as to shut out all view of those who were
walking along it, and who had to pass and re-pass quite close to where
Bramleigh was sitting.
To his intense astonishment it was in French they spoke: and a certain
sense of terror came over him as to what this might portend. Were these
spies of the enemy, and was the mine about to be sprung beneath him? One
was a female voice, a clear, distinct voice--which he thought he knew
well, and oh, what inexpressible relief to his anxiety was it when
he recognized it to be Julia L'Estrange's. She spoke volubly, almost
flippantly, and, as it seemed to Bramleigh, in a tone of half sarcastic
raillery, against which her companion appeared to protest, as he more
than once repeated the word “sérieuse” in a tone almost reproachful.
“If I am to be serious, my Lord,” said she, in a more collected tone,
“I had better get back to English. Let me tell you then, in a language
which admits of little misconception, that I have forborne to treat
your Lordship's proposal with gravity, partly out of respect for myself,
partly out of deference to you.”
“Deference to me? What do you mean? what can you mean?”
“I mean, my Lord, that all the flattery of being the object of your
Lordship's choice could not obliterate my sense of a disparity, just
as great between us in years as in condition. I was nineteen my last
birthday, Lord Culduff;” and she said this with a pouting air of
offended dignity.
“A peeress of nineteen would be a great success at a drawing-room,”
said he, with a tone of pompous deliberation.
“Pray, my Lord, let us quit a theme we cannot agree upon. With all
your Lordship's delicacy, you have not been able to conceal the vast
sacrifices it has cost you to make me your present proposal I have no
such tact. I have not even the shadow of it; and I could never hope to
hide what it would cost me to become _grande dame_.”
“A proposal of marriage; an actual proposal,” muttered Bramleigh, as he
arose to move away. “I heard it with my own ears; and heard her refuse
it, besides.”
An hour later, when he mounted the steps of the chief entrance, he met
Marion, who came towards him with an open letter. “This is from poor
Lord Culduff,” said she; “he has been stopping these last three days at
the L'Estranges', and what between boredom and bad cookery, he could n't
hold out any longer. He begs he may be permitted to come back here; he
says, 'Put me below the salt, if you like,--anywhere, only let it be
beneath your roof, and within the circle of your fascinating society.'
Shall I say Come, papa?”
“I suppose we must,” muttered Bramleigh, sulkily, and passed on to his
room.