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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/34540-8.txt b/34540-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a391421 --- /dev/null +++ b/34540-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7494 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of John Marchmont's Legacy, Volume II (of 3), by +Mary E. Braddon + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: John Marchmont's Legacy, Volume II (of 3) + +Author: Mary E. Braddon + +Release Date: December 1, 2010 [EBook #34540] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOHN MARCHMONT'S LEGACY, VOL II *** + + + + +Produced by Clare Graham, using scans from the Internet Archive + + + + +JOHN MARCHMONT'S LEGACY. + + +BY [M.E. Braddon] THE AUTHOR OF +"LADY AUDLEY'S SECRET," +ETC. ETC. ETC. + +IN THREE VOLUMES. + +VOL. II. + + +Published by Tinsley Brothers of London in 1863 (third edition). + + +CONTENTS. + CHAPTER I. MARY'S LETTER. + CHAPTER II. A NEW PROTECTOR. + CHAPTER III. PAUL'S SISTER. + CHAPTER IV. A STOLEN HONEYMOON. + CHAPTER V. SOUNDING THE DEPTHS. + CHAPTER VI. RISEN FROM THE GRAVE. + CHAPTER VII. FACE TO FACE. + CHAPTER VIII. THE PAINTING-ROOM BY THE RIVER. + CHAPTER IX. IN THE DARK. + CHAPTER X. THE PARAGRAPH IN THE NEWSPAPER. + CHAPTER XI. EDWARD ARUNDEL'S DESPAIR. + CHAPTER XII. EDWARD'S VISITORS. + CHAPTER XIII. ONE MORE SACRIFICE. + CHAPTER XIV. THE CHILD'S VOICE IN THE PAVILION BY THE WATER. + + + + + + +JOHN MARCHMONT'S LEGACY. + + +VOLUME II. + + +CHAPTER I. + +MARY'S LETTER. + + +It was past twelve o'clock when Edward Arundel strolled into the +dining-room. The windows were open, and the scent of the mignionette +upon the terrace was blown in upon the warm summer breeze. + +Mrs. Marchmont was sitting at one end of the long table, reading a +newspaper. She looked up as Edward entered the room. She was pale, but +not much paler than usual. The feverish light had faded out of her +eyes, and they looked dim and heavy. + +"Good morning, Livy," the young man said. "Mary is not up yet, I +suppose?" + +"I believe not." + +"Poor little girl! A long rest will do her good after her first ball. +How pretty and fairy-like she looked in her white gauze dress, and with +that circlet of pearls round her hair! Your taste, I suppose, Olivia? +She looked like a snow-drop among all the other gaudy flowers,--the +roses and tiger-lilies, and peonies and dahlias. That eldest Miss +Hickman is handsome, but she's so terribly conscious of her +attractions. That little girl from Swampington with the black ringlets +is rather pretty; and Laura Filmer is a jolly, dashing girl; she looks +you full in the face, and talks to you about hunting with as much gusto +as an old whipper-in. I don't think much of Major Hawley's three tall +sandy-haired daughters; but Fred Hawley's a capital fellow: it's a pity +he's a civilian. In short, my dear Olivia, take it altogether, I think +your ball was a success, and I hope you'll give us another in the +hunting-season." + +Mrs. Marchmont did not condescend to reply to her cousin's meaningless +rattle. She sighed wearily, and began to fill the tea-pot from the +old-fashioned silver urn. Edward loitered in one of the windows, +whistling to a peacock that was stalking solemnly backwards and +forwards upon the stone balustrade. + +"I should like to drive you and Mary down to the seashore, Livy, after +breakfast. Will you go?" + +Mrs. Marchmont shook her head. + +"I am a great deal too tired to think of going out to-day," she said +ungraciously. + +"And I never felt fresher in my life," the young man responded, +laughing; "last night's festivities seem to have revivified me. I wish +Mary would come down," he added, with a yawn; "I could give her another +lesson in billiards, at any rate. Poor little girl, I am afraid she'll +never make a cannon." + +Captain Arundel sat down to his breakfast, and drank the cup of tea +poured out for him by Olivia. Had she been a sinful woman of another +type, she would have put arsenic into the cup perhaps, and so have made +an end of the young officer and of her own folly. As it was, she only +sat by, with her own untasted breakfast before her, and watched him +while he ate a plateful of raised pie, and drank his cup of tea, with +the healthy appetite which generally accompanies youth and a good +conscience. He sprang up from the table directly he had finished his +meal, and cried out impatiently, "What can make Mary so lazy this +morning? she is usually such an early riser." + +Mrs. Marchmont rose as her cousin said this, and a vague feeling of +uneasiness took possession of her mind. She remembered the white face +which had blanched beneath the angry glare of her eyes, the blank look +of despair that had come over Mary's countenance a few hours before. + +"I will go and call her myself," she said. "N--no; I'll send Barbara." +She did not wait to ring the bell, but went into the hall, and called +sharply, "Barbara! Barbara!" + +A woman came out of a passage leading to the housekeeper's room, in +answer to Mrs. Marchmont's call; a woman of about fifty years of age, +dressed in gray stuff, and with a grave inscrutable face, a wooden +countenance that gave no token of its owner's character. Barbara +Simmons might have been the best or the worst of women, a Mrs. Fry or a +Mrs. Brownrigg, for any evidence her face afforded against either +hypothesis. + +"I want you to go up-stairs, Barbara, and call Miss Marchmont," Olivia +said. "Captain Arundel and I have finished breakfast." + +The woman obeyed, and Mrs. Marchmont returned to the dining-room, where +Edward was trying to amuse himself with the "Times" of the previous +day. + +Ten minutes afterwards Barbara Simmons came into the room carrying a +letter on a silver waiter. Had the document been a death-warrant, or a +telegraphic announcement of the landing of the French at Dover, the +well-trained servant would have placed it upon a salver before +presenting it to her mistress. + +"Miss Marchmont is not in her room, ma'am," she said; "the bed has not +been slept on; and I found this letter, addressed to Captain Arundel, +upon the table." + +Olivia's face grew livid; a horrible dread rushed into her mind. Edward +snatched the letter which the servant held towards him. + +"Mary not in her room! What, in Heaven's name, can it mean?" he cried. + +He tore open the letter. The writing was not easily decipherable for +the tears which the orphan girl had shed over it. + +"MY OWN DEAR EDWARD,--I have loved you so dearly and so foolishly, and +you have been so kind to me, that I have quite forgotten how unworthy I +am of your affection. But I am forgetful no longer. Something has +happened which has opened my eyes to my own folly,--I know now that you +did not love me; that I had no claim to your love; no charms or +attractions such as so many other women possess, and for which you +might have loved me. I know this now, dear Edward, and that all my +happiness has been a foolish dream; but do not think that I blame any +one but myself for what has happened. Take my fortune: long ago, when I +was a little girl, I asked my father to let me share it with you. I ask +you now to take it all, dear friend; and I go away for ever from a +house in which I have learnt how little happiness riches can give. Do +not be unhappy about me. I shall pray for you always,--always +remembering your goodness to my dead father; always looking back to the +day upon which you came to see us in our poor lodging. I am very +ignorant of all worldly business, but I hope the law will let me give +you Marchmont Towers, and all my fortune, whatever it may be. Let Mr. +Paulette see this latter part of my letter, and let him fully +understand that I abandon all my rights to you from this day. Good-bye, +dear friend; think of me sometimes, but never think of me sorrowfully. + +"MARY MARCHMONT." + +This was all. This was the letter which the heart-broken girl had +written to her lover. It was in no manner different from the letter she +might have written to him nine years before in Oakley Street. It was as +childish in its ignorance and inexperience; as womanly in its tender +self-abnegation. + +Edward Arundel stared at the simple lines like a man in a dream, +doubtful of his own identity, doubtful of the reality of the world +about him, in his hopeless wonderment. He read the letter line by line +again and again, first in dull stupefaction, and muttering the words +mechanically as he read them, then with the full light of their meaning +dawning gradually upon him. + +Her fortune! He had never loved her! She had discovered her own folly! +What did it all mean? What was the clue to the mystery of this letter, +which had stunned and bewildered him, until the very power of +reflection seemed lost? The dawning of that day had seen their parting, +and the innocent face had been lifted to his, beaming with love and +trust. And now--? The letter dropped from his hand, and fluttered +slowly to the ground. Olivia Marchmont stooped to pick it up. Her +movement aroused the young man from his stupor, and in that moment he +caught the sight of his cousin's livid face. + +He started as if a thunderbolt had burst at his feet. An idea, sudden +as some inspired revelation, rushed into his mind. + +"Read that letter, Olivia Marchmont!" he said. + +The woman obeyed. Slowly and deliberately she read the childish epistle +which Mary had written to her lover. In every line, in every word, the +widow saw the effect of her own deadly work; she saw how deeply the +poison, dropped from her own envenomed tongue, had sunk into the +innocent heart of the girl. + +Edward Arundel watched her with flaming eyes. His tall soldierly frame +trembled in the intensity of his passion. He followed his cousin's eyes +along the lines in Mary Marchmont's letter, waiting till she should +come to the end. Then the tumultuous storm of indignation burst forth, +until Olivia cowered beneath the lightning of her cousin's glance. + +Was this the man she had called frivolous? Was this the boyish +red-coated dandy she had despised? Was this the curled and perfumed +representative of swelldom, whose talk never soared to higher flights +than the description of a day's snipe-shooting, or a run with the +Burleigh fox-hounds? The wicked woman's eyelids drooped over her +averted eyes; she turned away, shrinking from this fearless accuser. + +"This mischief is some of _your_ work, Olivia Marchmont!" Edward +Arundel cried. "It is you who have slandered and traduced me to my dead +friend's daughter! Who else would dare accuse a Dangerfield Arundel of +baseness? who else would be vile enough to call my father's son a liar +and a traitor? It is you who have whispered shameful insinuations into +this poor child's innocent ear! I scarcely need the confirmation of +your ghastly face to tell me this. It is you who have driven Mary +Marchmont from the home in which you should have sheltered and +protected her! You envied her, I suppose,--envied her the thousands +which might have ministered to your wicked pride and ambition;--the +pride which has always held you aloof from those who might have loved +you; the ambition that has made you a soured and discontented woman, +whose gloomy face repels all natural affection. You envied the gentle +girl whom your dead husband committed to your care, and who should have +been most sacred to you. You envied her, and seized the first occasion +upon which you might stab her to the very core of her tender heart. +What other motive could you have had for doing this deadly wrong? None, +so help me Heaven!" + +No other motive! Olivia Marchmont dropped down in a heap on the ground +near her cousin's feet; not kneeling, but grovelling upon the carpeted +floor, writhing convulsively, with her hands twisted one in the other, +and her head falling forward on her breast. She uttered no syllable of +self-justification or denial. The pitiless words rained down upon her +provoked no reply. But in the depths of her heart sounded the echo of +Edward Arundel's words: "The pride which has always held you aloof from +those who might have loved you; . . . a discontented woman, whose +gloomy face repels all natural affection." + +"O God!" she thought, "he might have loved me, then! He _might_ have +loved me, if I could have locked my anguish in my own heart, and smiled +at him and flattered him." + +And then an icy indifference took possession of her. What did it matter +that Edward Arundel repudiated and hated her? He had never loved her. +His careless friendliness had made as wide a gulf between them as his +bitterest hate could ever make. Perhaps, indeed, his new-born hate +would be nearer to love than his indifference had been, for at least he +would think of her now, if he thought ever so bitterly. + +"Listen to me, Olivia Marchmont," the young man said, while the woman +still crouched upon the ground near his feet, self-confessed in the +abandonment of her despair. "Wherever this girl may have gone, driven +hence by your wickedness, I will follow her. My answer to the lie you +have insinuated against me shall be my immediate marriage with my old +friend's orphan child. _He_ knew me well enough to know how far I was +above the baseness of a fortune-hunter, and he wished that I should be +his daughter's husband. I should be a coward and a fool were I to be +for one moment influenced by such a slander as that which you have +whispered in Mary Marchmont's ear. It is not the individual only whom +you traduce. You slander the cloth I wear, the family to which I +belong; and my best justification will be the contempt in which I hold +your infamous insinuations. When you hear that I have squandered Mary +Marchmont's fortune, or cheated the children I pray God she may live to +bear me, it will be time enough for you to tell the world that your +kinsman Edward Dangerfield Arundel is a swindler and a traitor." + +He strode out into the hall, leaving his cousin on the ground; and she +heard his voice outside the dining-room door making inquiries of the +servants. + +They could tell him nothing of Mary's flight. Her bed had not been +slept in; nobody had seen her leave the house; it was most likely, +therefore, that she had stolen away very early, before the servants +were astir. + +Where had she gone? Edward Arundel's heart beat wildly as he asked +himself that question. He remembered how often he had heard of women, +as young and innocent as Mary Marchmont, who had rushed to destroy +themselves in a tumult of agony and despair. How easily this poor +child, who believed that her dream of happiness was for ever broken, +might have crept down through the gloomy wood to the edge of the +sluggish river, to drop into the weedy stream, and hide her sorrow +under the quiet water. He could fancy her, a new Ophelia, pale and pure +as the Danish prince's slighted love, floating past the weird branches +of the willows, borne up for a while by the current, to sink in silence +amongst the shadows farther down the stream. + +He thought of these things in one moment, and in the next dismissed the +thought. Mary's letter breathed the spirit of gentle resignation rather +than of wild despair. "I shall always pray for you; I shall always +remember you," she had written. Her lover remembered how much sorrow +the orphan girl had endured in her brief life. He looked back to her +childish days of poverty and self-denial; her early loss of her mother; +her grief at her father's second marriage; the shock of that beloved +father's death. Her sorrows had followed each other in gloomy +succession, with only narrow intervals of peace between them. She was +accustomed, therefore, to grief. It is the soul untutored by +affliction, the rebellious heart that has never known calamity, which +becomes mad and desperate, and breaks under the first blow. Mary +Marchmont had learned the habit of endurance in the hard school of +sorrow. + +Edward Arundel walked out upon the terrace, and re-read the missing +girl's letter. He was calmer now, and able to face the situation with +all its difficulties and perplexities. He was losing time perhaps in +stopping to deliberate; but it was no use to rush off in reckless +haste, undetermined in which direction he should seek for the lost +mistress of Marchmont Towers. One of the grooms was busy in the stables +saddling Captain Arundel's horse, and in the mean time the young man +went out alone upon the sunny terrace to deliberate upon Mary's letter. + +Complete resignation was expressed in every line of that childish +epistle. The heiress spoke most decisively as to her abandonment of her +fortune and her home. It was clear, then, that she meant to leave +Lincolnshire; for she would know that immediate steps would be taken to +discover her hiding-place, and bring her back to Marchmont Towers. + +Where was she likely to go in her inexperience of the outer world? +where but to those humble relations of her dead mother's, of whom her +father had spoken in his letter to Edward Arundel, and with whom the +young man knew she had kept up an occasional correspondence, sending +them many little gifts out of her pocket-money. These people were small +tenant-farmers, at a place called Marlingford, in Berkshire. Edward +knew their name and the name of the farm. + +"I'll make inquiries at the Kemberling station to begin with," he +thought. "There's a through train from the north that stops at +Kemberling at a little before six. My poor darling may have easily +caught that, if she left the house at five." + +Captain Arundel went back into the hall, and summoned Barbara Simmons. +The woman replied with rather a sulky air to his numerous questions; +but she told him that Miss Marchmont had left her ball-dress upon the +bed, and had put on a gray cashmere dress trimmed with black ribbon, +which she had worn as half-mourning for her father; a black straw +bonnet, with a crape veil, and a silk mantle trimmed with crape. She +had taken with her a small carpet-bag, some linen,--for the +linen-drawer of her wardrobe was open, and the things scattered +confusedly about,--and the little morocco case in which she kept her +pearl ornaments, and the diamond ring left her by her father. + +"Had she any money?" Edward asked. + +"Yes, sir; she was never without money. She spent a good deal amongst +the poor people she visited with my mistress; but I dare say she may +have had between ten and twenty pounds in her purse." + +"She will go to Berkshire," Edward Arundel thought: "the idea of going +to her humble friends would be the first to present itself to her mind. +She will go to her dead mother's sister, and give her all her jewels, +and ask for shelter in the quiet farmhouse. She will act like one of +the heroines in the old-fashioned novels she used to read in Oakley +Street, the simple-minded damsels of those innocent story-books, who +think nothing of resigning a castle and a coronet, and going out into +the world to work for their daily bread in a white satin gown, and with +a string of pearls to bind their dishevelled locks." + +Captain Arundel's horse was brought round to the terrace-steps, as he +stood with Mary's letter in his hand, waiting to hurry away to the +rescue of his sorrowful love. + +"Tell Mrs. Marchmont that I shall not return to the Towers till I bring +her stepdaughter with me," he said to the groom; and then, without +stopping to utter another word, he shook the rein on his horse's neck, +and galloped away along the gravelled drive leading to the great iron +gates of Marchmont Towers. + +Olivia heard his message, which had been spoken in a clear loud voice, +like some knightly defiance, sounding trumpet-like at a castle-gate. +She stood in one of the windows of the dining-room, hidden by the faded +velvet curtain, and watched her cousin ride away, brave and handsome as +any knight-errant of the chivalrous past, and as true as Bayard +himself. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +A NEW PROTECTOR. + + +Captain Arundel's inquiries at the Kemberling station resulted in an +immediate success. A young lady--a young woman, the railway official +called her--dressed in black, wearing a crape veil over her face, and +carrying a small carpet-bag in her hand, had taken a second-class +ticket for London, by the 5.50., a parliamentary train, which stopped +at almost every station on the line, and reached Euston Square at +half-past twelve. + +Edward looked at his watch. It was ten minutes to two o'clock. The +express did not stop at Kemberling; but he would be able to catch it at +Swampington at a quarter past three. Even then, however, he could +scarcely hope to get to Berkshire that night. + +"My darling girl will not discover how foolish her doubts have been +until to-morrow," he thought. "Silly child! has my love so little the +aspect of truth that she _can_ doubt me?" + +He sprang on his horse again, flung a shilling to the railway porter +who had held the bridle, and rode away along the Swampington road. The +clocks in the gray old Norman turrets were striking three as the young +man crossed the bridge, and paid his toll at the little toll-house by +the stone archway. + +The streets were as lonely as usual in the hot July afternoon; and the +long line of sea beyond the dreary marshes was blue in the sunshine. +Captain Arundel passed the two churches, and the low-roofed rectory, +and rode away to the outskirts of the town, where the station glared in +all the brilliancy of new red bricks, and dazzling stuccoed chimneys, +athwart a desert of waste ground. + +The express-train came tearing up to the quiet platform two minutes +after Edward had taken his ticket; and in another minute the clanging +bell pealed out its discordant signal, and the young man was borne, +with a shriek and a whistle, away upon the first stage of his search +for Mary Marchmont. + +It was nearly seven o'clock when he reached Euston Square; and he only +got to the Paddington station in time to hear that the last train for +Marlingford had just started. There was no possibility of his reaching +the little Berkshire village that night. No mail-train stopped within a +reasonable distance of the obscure station. There was no help for it, +therefore, Captain Arundel had nothing to do but to wait for the next +morning. + +He walked slowly away from the station, very much disheartened by this +discovery. + +"I'd better sleep at some hotel up this way," he thought, as he +strolled listlessly in the direction of Oxford Street, "so as to be on +the spot to catch the first train to-morrow morning. What am I to do +with myself all this night, racked with uncertainty about Mary?" + +He remembered that one of his brother officers was staying at the hotel +in Covent Garden where Edward himself stopped, when business detained +him in London for a day or two. + +"Shall I go and see Lucas?" Captain Arundel thought. "He's a good +fellow, and won't bore me with a lot of questions, if he sees I've +something on my mind. There may be some letters for me at E----'s. Poor +little Polly!" + +He could never think of her without something of that pitiful +tenderness which he might have felt for a young and helpless child, +whom it was his duty and privilege to protect and succour. It may be +that there was little of the lover's fiery enthusiasm mingled with the +purer and more tender feelings with which Edward Arundel regarded his +dead friend's orphan daughter; but in place of this there was a +chivalrous devotion, such as woman rarely wins in these degenerate +modern days. + +The young soldier walked through the lamp-lit western streets thinking +of the missing girl; now assuring himself that his instinct had not +deceived him, and that Mary must have gone straight to the Berkshire +farmer's house, and in the next moment seized with a sudden terror that +it might be otherwise: the helpless girl might have gone out into a +world of which she was as ignorant as a child, determined to hide +herself from all who had ever known her. If it should be thus: if, on +going down to Marlingford, he obtained no tidings of his friend's +daughter, what was he to do? Where was he to look for her next? + +He would put advertisements in the papers, calling upon his betrothed +to trust him and return to him. Perhaps Mary Marchmont was, of all +people in this world, the least likely to look into a newspaper; but at +least it would be doing something to do this, and Edward Arundel +determined upon going straight off to Printing-House Square, to draw up +an appeal to the missing girl. + +It was past ten o'clock when Captain Arundel came to this +determination, and he had reached the neighbourhood of Covent Garden +and of the theatres. The staring play-bills adorned almost every +threshold, and fluttered against every door-post; and the young +soldier, going into a tobacconist's to fill his cigar-case, stared +abstractedly at a gaudy blue-and-red announcement of the last dramatic +attraction to be seen at Drury Lane. It was scarcely strange that the +Captain's thoughts wandered back to his boyhood, that shadowy time, far +away behind his later days of Indian warfare and glory, and that he +remembered the December night upon which he had sat with his cousin in +a box at the great patent theatre, watching the consumptive +supernumerary struggling under the weight of his banner. From the box +at Drury Lane to the next morning's breakfast in Oakley Street, was but +a natural transition of thought; but with that recollection of the +humble Lambeth lodging, with the picture of a little girl in a pinafore +sitting demurely at her father's table, and meekly waiting on his +guest, an idea flashed across Edward Arundel's mind, and brought the +hot blood into his face. + +What if Mary had gone to Oakley Street? Was not this even more likely +than that she should seek refuge with her kinsfolk in Berkshire? She +had lived in the Lambeth lodging for years, and had only left that +plebeian shelter for the grandeur of Marchmont Towers. What more +natural than that she should go back to the familiar habitation, dear +to her by reason of a thousand associations with her dead father? What +more likely than that she should turn instinctively, in the hour of her +desolation, to the humble friends whom she had known in her childhood? + +Edward Arundel was almost too impatient to wait while the smart young +damsel behind the tobacconist's counter handed him change for the +half-sovereign which he had just tendered her. He darted out into the +street, and shouted violently to the driver of a passing hansom,--there +are always loitering hansoms in the neighbourhood of Covent +Garden,--who was, after the manner of his kind, looking on any side +rather than that upon which Providence had sent him a fare. + +"Oakley Street, Lambeth," the young man cried. "Double fare if you get +there in ten minutes." + +The tall raw-boned horse rattled off at that peculiar pace common to +his species, making as much noise upon the pavement as if he had been +winning a metropolitan Derby, and at about twenty minutes past nine +drew up, smoking and panting, before the dimly lighted windows of the +Ladies' Wardrobe, where a couple of flaring tallow-candles illuminated +the splendour of a foreground of dirty artificial flowers, frayed satin +shoes, and tarnished gilt combs; a middle distance of blue gauzy +tissue, embroidered with beetles' wings; and a background of greasy +black silk. Edward Arundel flung back the doors of the hansom with a +bang, and leaped out upon the pavement. The proprietress of the Ladies' +Wardrobe was lolling against the door-post, refreshing herself with the +soft evening breezes from the roads of Westminster and Waterloo, and +talking to her neighbour. + +"Bless her pore dear innercent 'art!" the woman was saying; "she's +cried herself to sleep at last. But you never hear any think so pitiful +as she talked to me at fust, sweet love!--and the very picture of my +own poor Eliza Jane, as she looked. You might have said it was Eliza +Jane come back to life, only paler and more sickly like, and not that +beautiful fresh colour, and ringlets curled all round in a crop, as +Eliza Ja--" + +Edward Arundel burst in upon the good woman's talk, which rambled on in +an unintermitting stream, unbroken by much punctuation. + +"Miss Marchmont is here," he said; "I know she is. Thank God, thank +God! Let me see her please, directly. I am Captain Arundel, her +father's friend, and her affianced husband. You remember me, perhaps? I +came here nine years ago to breakfast, one December morning. I can +recollect you perfectly, and I know that you were always good to my +poor friend's daughter. To think that I should find her here! You shall +be well rewarded for your kindness to her. But take me to her; pray +take me to her at once!" + +The proprietress of the wardrobe snatched up one of the candles that +guttered in a brass flat-candlestick upon the counter, and led the way +up the narrow staircase. She was a good lazy creature, and she was so +completely borne down by Edward's excitement, that she could only +mutter disjointed sentences, to the effect that the gentleman had +brought her heart into her mouth, and that her legs felt all of a +jelly; and that her poor knees was a'most giving way under her, and +other incoherent statements concerning the physical effect of the +mental shocks she had that day received. + +She opened the door of that shabby sitting-room upon the first-floor, +in which the crippled eagle brooded over the convex mirror, and stood +aside upon the threshold while Captain Arundel entered the room. A +tallow candle was burning dimly upon the table, and a girlish form lay +upon the narrow horsehair sofa, shrouded by a woollen shawl. + +"She went to sleep about half-an-hour ago, sir," the woman said, in a +whisper; "and she cried herself to sleep, pore lamb, I think. I made +her some tea, and got her a few creases and a French roll, with a bit +of best fresh; but she wouldn't touch nothin', or only a few spoonfuls +of the tea, just to please me. What is it that's drove her away from +her 'ome, sir, and such a good 'ome too? She showed me a diamont ring +as her pore par gave her in his will. He left me twenty pound, pore +gentleman,--which he always acted like a gentleman bred and born; and +Mr. Pollit, the lawyer, sent his clerk along with it and his +compliments,--though I'm sure I never looked for nothink, having always +had my rent faithful to the very minute: and Miss Mary used to bring it +down to me so pretty, and--" + +But the whispering had grown louder by this time, and Mary Marchmont +awoke from her feverish sleep, and lifted her weary head from the hard +horsehair pillow and looked about her, half forgetful of where she was, +and of what had happened within the last eighteen hours of her life. +Her eyes wandered here and there, doubtful as to the reality of what +they looked upon, until the girl saw her lover's figure, tall and +splendid in the humble apartment, a tender half-reproachful smile upon +his face, and his handsome blue eyes beaming with love and truth. She +saw him, and a faint shriek broke from her tremulous lips, as she rose +and fell upon his breast. + +"You love me, then, Edward," she cried; "you do love me!" + +"Yes, my darling, as truly and tenderly as ever woman was loved upon +this earth." + +And then the soldier sat down upon the hard bristly sofa, and with +Mary's head still resting upon his breast, and his strong hand straying +amongst her disordered hair, he reproached her for her foolishness, and +comforted and soothed her; while the proprietress of the apartment +stood, with the brass candlestick in her hand, watching the young +lovers and weeping over their sorrows, as if she had been witnessing a +scene in a play. Their innocent affection was unrestrained by the good +woman's presence; and when Mary had smiled upon her lover, and assured +him that she would never, never, never doubt him again, Captain Arundel +was fain to kiss the soft-hearted landlady in his enthusiasm, and to +promise her the handsomest silk dress that had ever been seen in Oakley +Street, amongst all the faded splendours of silk and satin that +ladies'-maids brought for her consideration. + +"And now my darling, my foolish run-away Polly, what is to be done with +you?" asked the young soldier. "Will you go back to the Towers +to-morrow morning?" + +Mary Marchmont clasped her hands before her face, and began to tremble +violently. + +"Oh, no, no, no!" she cried; "don't ask me to do that, don't ask me to +go back, Edward. I can never go back to that house again, while--" + +She stopped suddenly, looking piteously at her lover. + +"While my cousin Olivia Marchmont lives there," Captain Arundel said +with an angry frown. "God knows it's a bitter thing for me to think +that your troubles should come from any of my kith and kin, Polly. She +has used you very badly, then, this woman? She has been very unkind to +you?" + +"No, no! never before last night. It seems so long ago; but it was only +last night, was it? Until then she was always kind to me. I didn't love +her, you know, though I tried to do so for papa's sake, and out of +gratitude to her for taking such trouble with my education; but one can +be grateful to people without loving them, and I never grew to love +her. But last night--last night--she said such cruel things to me--such +cruel things. O Edward, Edward!" the girl cried suddenly, clasping her +hands and looking imploringly at Captain Arundel, "were the cruel +things she said true? Did I do wrong when I offered to be your wife?" + +How could the young man answer this question except by clasping his +betrothed to his heart? So there was another little love-scene, over +which Mrs. Pimpernel,--the proprietress's name was Pimpernel--wept +fresh tears, murmuring that the Capting was the sweetest young man, +sweeter than Mr. Macready in Claude Melnock; and that the scene +altogether reminded her of that "cutting" episode where the proud +mother went on against the pore young man, and Miss Faucit came out so +beautiful. They are a playgoing population in Oakley Street, and +compassionate and sentimental like all true playgoers. + +"What shall I do with you, Miss Marchmont?" Edward Arundel asked gaily, +when the little love-scene was concluded. "My mother and sister are +away, at a German watering-place, trying some unpronounceable Spa for +the benefit of poor Letty's health. Reginald is with them, and my +father's alone at Dangerfield. So I can't take you down there, as I +might have done if my mother had been at home; I don't much care for +the Mostyns, or you might have stopped in Montague Square. There are no +friendly friars nowadays who will marry Romeo and Juliet at +half-an-hour's notice. You must live a fortnight somewhere, Polly: +where shall it be?" + +"Oh, let me stay here, please," Miss Marchmont pleaded; "I was always +so happy here!" + +"Lord love her precious heart!" exclaimed Mrs. Pimpernel, lifting up +her hands in a rapture of admiration. "To think as she shouldn't have a +bit of pride, after all the money as her pore par come into! To think +as she should wish to stay in her old lodgins, where everythink shall +be done to make her comfortable; and the air back and front is very +'ealthy, though you might not believe it, and the Blind School and +Bedlam hard by, and Kennington Common only a pleasant walk, and +beautiful and open this warm summer weather." + +"Yes, I should like to stop here, please," Mary murmured. Even in the +midst of her agitation, overwhelmed as she was by the emotions of the +present, her thoughts went back to the past, and she remembered how +delightful it would be to go and see the accommodating butcher, and the +greengrocer's daughter, the kind butterman who had called her "little +lady," and the disreputable gray parrot. How delightful it would be to +see these humble friends, now that she was grown up, and had money +wherewith to make them presents in token of her gratitude! + +"Very well, then, Polly," Captain Arundel said, "you'll stay here. And +Mrs.----" + +"Pimpernel," the landlady suggested. + +"Mrs. Pimpernel will take as good care of you as if you were Queen of +England, and the welfare of the nation depended upon your safety. And +I'll stop at my hotel in Covent Garden; and I'll see Richard +Paulette,--he's my lawyer as well as yours, you know, Polly,--and tell +him something of what has happened, and make arrangements for our +immediate marriage." + +"Our marriage!" + +Mary Marchmont echoed her lover's last words, and looked up at him +almost with a bewildered air. She had never thought of an early +marriage with Edward Arundel as the result of her flight from +Lincolnshire. She had a vague notion that she would live in Oakley +Street for years, and that in some remote time the soldier would come +to claim her. + +"Yes, Polly darling, Olivia Marchmont's conduct has made me decide upon +a very bold step. It is evident to me that my cousin hates you; for +what reason, Heaven only knows, since you can have done nothing to +provoke her hate. When your father was a poor man, it was to me he +would have confided you. He changed his mind afterwards, very +naturally, and chose another guardian for his orphan child. If my +cousin had fulfilled this trust, Mary, I would have deferred to her +authority, and would have held myself aloof until your minority was +passed, rather than ask you to marry me without your stepmother's +consent. But Olivia Marchmont has forfeited her right to be consulted +in this matter. She has tortured you and traduced me by her poisonous +slander. If you believe in me, Mary, you will consent to be my wife. My +justification lies in the future. You will not find that I shall sponge +upon your fortune, my dear, or lead an idle life because my wife is a +rich woman." + +Mary Marchmont looked up with shy tenderness at her lover. + +"I would rather the fortune were yours than mine, Edward," she said. "I +will do whatever you wish; I will be guided by you in every thing." + +It was thus that John Marchmont's daughter consented to become the wife +of the man she loved, the man whose image she had associated since her +childhood with all that was good and beautiful in mankind. She knew +none of those pretty stereotyped phrases, by means of which well-bred +young ladies can go through a graceful fencing-match of hesitation and +equivocation, to the anguish of a doubtful and adoring suitor. She had +no notion of that delusive negative, that bewitching feminine "no," +which is proverbially understood to mean "yes." Weary courses of Roman +Emperors, South-Sea Islands, Sidereal Heavens, Tertiary and Old Red +Sandstone, had very ill-prepared this poor little girl for the stern +realities of life. + +"I will be guided by you, dear Edward," she said; "my father wished me +to be your wife; and if I did not love you, it would please me to obey +him." + +It was eleven o'clock when Captain Arundel left Oakley Street. The +hansom had been waiting all the time, and the driver, seeing that his +fare was young, handsome, dashing, and what he called +"milingtary-like," demanded an enormous sum when he landed the soldier +before the portico of the hotel in Covent Garden. + +Edward took a hasty breakfast the next morning, and then hurried off to +Lincoln's-Inn Fields. But here a disappointment awaited him. Richard +Paulette had started for Scotland upon a piscatorial excursion. The +elder Paulette was an octogenarian, who lived in the south of France, +and kept his name in the business as a fiction, by means of which +elderly and obstinate country clients were deluded into the belief that +the solicitor who conducted their affairs was the same legal +practitioner who had done business for their fathers and grandfathers +before them. Mathewson, a grim man, was away amongst the Yorkshire +wolds, superintending the foreclosure of certain mortgages upon a +bankrupt baronet's estate. A confidential clerk, who received clients, +and kept matters straight during the absence of his employers, was very +anxious to be of use to Captain Arundel: but it was not likely that +Edward could sit down and pour his secrets into the bosom of a clerk, +however trustworthy a personage that employé might be. + +The young man's desire had been that his marriage with Mary Marchmont +should take place at least with the knowledge and approbation of her +dead father's lawyer: but he was impatient to assume the only title by +which he might have a right to be the orphan girl's champion and +protector; and he had therefore no inclination to wait until the long +vacation was over, and Messrs. Paulette and Mathewson returned from +their northern wanderings. Again, Mary Marchmont suffered from a +continual dread that her stepmother would discover the secret of her +humble retreat, and would follow her and reassume authority over her. + +"Let me be your wife before I see her again, Edward," the girl pleaded +innocently, when this terror was uppermost in her mind. "She could not +say cruel things to me if I were your wife. I know it is wicked to be +so frightened of her; because she was always good to me until that +night: but I cannot tell you how I tremble at the thought of being +alone with her at Marchmont Towers. I dream sometimes that I am with +her in the gloomy old house, and that we two are alone there, even the +servants all gone, and you far away in India, Edward,--at the other end +of the world." + +It was as much as her lover could do to soothe and reassure the +trembling girl when these thoughts took possession of her. Had he been +less sanguine and impetuous, less careless in the buoyancy of his +spirits, Captain Arundel might have seen that Mary's nerves had been +terribly shaken by the scene between her and Olivia, and all the +anguish which had given rise to her flight from Marchmont Towers. The +girl trembled at every sound. The shutting of a door, the noise of a +cab stopping in the street below, the falling of a book from the table +to the floor, startled her almost as much as if a gunpowder-magazine +had exploded in the neighbourhood. The tears rose to her eyes at the +slightest emotion. Her mind was tortured by vague fears, which she +tried in vain to explain to her lover. Her sleep was broken by dismal +dreams, foreboding visions of shadowy evil. + +For a little more than a fortnight Edward Arundel visited his betrothed +daily in the shabby first-floor in Oakley Street, and sat by her side +while she worked at some fragile scrap of embroidery, and talked gaily +to her of the happy future; to the intense admiration of Mrs. +Pimpernel, who had no greater delight than to assist in the pretty +little sentimental drama that was being enacted on her first-floor. + +Thus it was that, on a cloudy and autumnal August morning, Edward +Arundel and Mary Marchmont were married in a great empty-looking church +in the parish of Lambeth, by an indifferent curate, who shuffled +through the service at railroad speed, and with far less reverence for +the solemn rite than he would have displayed had he known that the +pale-faced girl kneeling before the altar-rails was undisputed mistress +of eleven thousand a-year. Mrs. Pimpernel, the pew-opener, and the +registrar who was in waiting in the vestry, and was beguiled thence to +give away the bride, were the only witnesses to this strange wedding. +It seemed a dreary ceremonial to Mrs. Pimpernel, who had been married +at the same church five-and-twenty years before, in a cinnamon satin +spencer, and a coal-scuttle bonnet, and with a young person in the +dressmaking line in attendance upon her as bridesmaid. + +It _was_ rather a dreary wedding, no doubt. The drizzling rain dripped +ceaselessly in the street without, and there was a smell of damp +plaster in the great empty church. The melancholy street-cries sounded +dismally from the outer world, while the curate was hurrying through +those portentous words which were to unite Edward Arundel and Mary +Marchmont until the final day of earthly separation. The girl clung +shivering to her lover, her husband now, as they went into the vestry +to sign their names in the marriage-register. Throughout the service +she had expected to hear a footstep in the aisle behind her, and Olivia +Marchmont's cruel voice crying out to forbid the marriage. + +"I am your wife now, Edward, am I not?" she said, when she had signed +her name in the register. + +"Yes, my darling, for ever and for ever." + +"And nothing can part us now?" + +"Nothing but death, my dear." + +In the exuberance of his spirits, Edward Arundel spoke of the King of +Terrors as if he had been a mere nobody, whose power to change or mar +the fortunes of mankind was so trifling as to be scarcely worth +mentioning. + +The vehicle in waiting to carry the mistress of Marchmont Towers upon +the first stage of her bridal tour was nothing better than a hack cab. +The driver's garments exhaled stale tobacco-smoke in the moist +atmosphere, and in lieu of the flowers which are wont to bestrew the +bridal path of an heiress, Miss Marchmont trod upon damp and mouldy +straw. But she was happy,--happy, with a fearful apprehension that her +happiness could not be real,--a vague terror of Olivia's power to +torture and oppress her, which even the presence of her lover-husband +could not altogether drive away. She kissed Mrs. Pimpernel, who stood +upon the edge of the pavement, crying bitterly, with the slippery white +lining of a new silk dress, which Edward Arundel had given her for the +wedding, gathered tightly round her. + +"God bless you, my dear!" cried the honest dealer in frayed satins and +tumbled gauzes; "I couldn't take this more to heart if you was my own +Eliza Jane going away with the young man as she was to have married, +and as is now a widower with five children, two in arms, and the +youngest brought up by hand. God bless your pretty face, my dear; and +oh, pray take care of her, Captain Arundel, for she's a tender flower, +sir, and truly needs your care. And it's but a trifle, my own sweet +young missy, for the acceptance of such as you, but it's given from a +full heart, and given humbly." + +The latter part of Mrs. Pimpernel's speech bore relation to a hard +newspaper parcel, which she dropped into Mary's lap. Mrs. Arundel +opened the parcel presently, when she had kissed her humble friend for +the last time, and the cab was driving towards Nine Elms, and found +that Mrs. Pimpernel's wedding-gift was a Scotch shepherdess in china, +with a great deal of gilding about her tartan garments, very red legs, +a hat and feathers, and a curly sheep. Edward put this article of +_virtù_ very carefully away in his carpet-bag; for his bride would not +have the present treated with any show of disrespect. + +"How good of her to give it me!" Mary said; "it used to stand upon the +back-parlour chimney-piece when I was a little girl; and I was so fond +of it. Of course I am not fond of Scotch shepherdesses now, you know, +dear; but how should Mrs. Pimpernel know that? She thought it would +please me to have this one." + +"And you'll put it in the western drawing-room at the Towers, won't +you, Polly?" Captain Arundel asked, laughing. + +"I won't put it anywhere to be made fun of, sir," the young bride +answered, with some touch of wifely dignity; "but I'll take care of it, +and never have it broken or destroyed; and Mrs. Pimpernel shall see it, +when she comes to the Towers,--if I ever go back there," she added, +with a sudden change of manner. + +"_If_ you ever go back there!" cried Edward. "Why, Polly, my dear, +Marchmont Towers is your own house. My cousin Olivia is only there upon +sufferance, and her own good sense will tell her she has no right to +stay there, when she ceases to be your friend and protectress. She is a +proud woman, and her pride will surely never suffer her to remain where +she must feel she can be no longer welcome." + +The young wife's face turned white with terror at her husband's words. + +"But I could never ask her to go, Edward," she said. "I wouldn't turn +her out for the world. She may stay there for ever if she likes. I +never have cared for the place since papa's death; and I couldn't go +back while she is there, I'm so frightened of her, Edward, I'm so +frightened of her." + +The vague apprehension burst forth in this childish cry. Edward Arundel +clasped his wife to his breast, and bent over her, kissing her pale +forehead, and murmuring soothing words, as he might have done to a +child. + +"My dear, my dear," he said, "my darling Mary, this will never do; my +own love, this is so very foolish." + +"I know, I know, Edward; but I can't help it, I can't indeed; I was +frightened of her long ago; frightened of her even the first day I saw +her, the day you took me to the Rectory. I was frightened of her when +papa first told me he meant to marry her; and I am frightened of her +now; even now that I am your wife, Edward, I'm frightened of her +still." + +Captain Arundel kissed away the tears that trembled on his wife's +eyelids; but she had scarcely grown quite composed even when the cab +stopped at the Nine Elms railway station. It was only when she was +seated in the carriage with her husband, and the rain cleared away as +they advanced farther into the heart of the pretty pastoral country, +that the bride's sense of happiness and safety in her husband's +protection, returned to her. But by that time she was able to smile in +his face, and to look forward with delight to a brief sojourn in that +pretty Hampshire village, which Edward had chosen for the scene of his +honeymoon. + +"Only a few days of quiet happiness, Polly," he said; "a few days of +utter forgetfulness of all the world except you; and then I must be a +man of business again, and write to your stepmother and my father and +mother, and Messrs. Paulette and Mathewson, and all the people who +ought to know of our marriage." + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +PAUL'S SISTER. + + +Olivia Marchmont shut herself once more in her desolate chamber, making +no effort to find the runaway mistress of the Towers; indifferent as to +what the slanderous tongues of her neighbours might say of her; +hardened, callous, desperate. + +To her father, and to any one else who questioned her about Mary's +absence,--for the story of the girl's flight was soon whispered abroad, +the servants at the Towers having received no injunctions to keep the +matter secret,--Mrs. Marchmont replied with such an air of cold and +determined reserve as kept the questioners at bay ever afterwards. + +So the Kemberling people, and the Swampington people, and all the +country gentry within reach of Marchmont Towers, had a mystery and a +scandal provided for them, which afforded ample scope for repeated +discussion, and considerably relieved the dull monotony of their lives. +But there were some questioners whom Mrs. Marchmont found it rather +difficult to keep at a distance; there were some intruders who dared to +force themselves upon the gloomy woman's solitude, and who _would_ not +understand that their presence was abhorrent to her. + +These people were a surgeon and his wife, who had newly settled at +Kemberling; the best practice in the village falling into the market by +reason of the death of a steady-going, gray-headed old practitioner, +who for many years had shared with one opponent the responsibility of +watching over the health of the Lincolnshire village. + +It was about three weeks after Mary Marchmont's flight when these +unwelcome guests first came to the Towers. + +Olivia sat alone in her dead husband's study,--the same room in which +she had sat upon the morning of John Marchmont's funeral,--a dark and +gloomy chamber, wainscoted with blackened oak, and lighted only by a +massive stone-framed Tudor window looking out into the quadrangle, and +overshadowed by that cloistered colonnade beneath whose shelter Edward +and Mary had walked upon the morning of the girl's flight. This +wainscoted study was an apartment which most women, having all the +rooms in Marchmont Towers at their disposal, would have been likely to +avoid; but the gloom of the chamber harmonised with that horrible gloom +which had taken possession of Olivia's soul, and the widow turned from +the sunny western front, as she turned from all the sunlight and +gladness in the universe, to come here, where the summer radiance +rarely crept through the diamond-panes of the window, where the shadow +of the cloister shut out the glory of the blue sky. + +She was sitting in this room,--sitting near the open window, in a +high-backed chair of carved and polished oak, with her head resting +against the angle of the embayed window, and her handsome profile +thrown into sharp relief by the dark green-cloth curtain, which hung in +straight folds from the low ceiling to the ground, and made a sombre +background to the widow's figure. Mrs. Marchmont had put away all the +miserable gew-gaws and vanities which she had ordered from London in a +sudden excess of folly or caprice, and had reassumed her mourning-robes +of lustreless black. She had a book in her hand,--some new and popular +fiction, which all Lincolnshire was eager to read; but although her +eyes were fixed upon the pages before her, and her hand mechanically +turned over leaf after leaf at regular intervals of time, the +fashionable romance was only a weary repetition of phrases, a dull +current of words, always intermingled with the images of Edward Arundel +and Mary Marchmont, which arose out of every page to mock the hopeless +reader. + +Olivia flung the book away from her at last, with a smothered cry of +rage. + +"Is there no cure for this disease?" she muttered. "Is there no relief +except madness or death?" + +But in the infidelity which had arisen out of her despair this woman +had grown to doubt if either death or madness could bring her oblivion +of her anguish. She doubted the quiet of the grave; and half-believed +that the torture of jealous rage and slighted love might mingle even +with that silent rest, haunting her in her coffin, shutting her out of +heaven, and following her into a darker world, there to be her torment +everlastingly. There were times when she thought madness must mean +forgetfulness; but there were other moments when she shuddered, +horror-stricken, at the thought that, in the wandering brain of a mad +woman, the image of that grief which had caused the shipwreck of her +senses might still hold its place, distorted and exaggerated,--a +gigantic unreality, ten thousand times more terrible than the truth. +Remembering the dreams which disturbed her broken sleep,--those dreams +which, in their feverish horror, were little better than intervals of +delirium,--it is scarcely strange if Olivia Marchmont thought thus. + +She had not succumbed without many struggles to her sin and despair. +Again and again she had abandoned herself to the devils at watch to +destroy her, and again and again she had tried to extricate her soul +from their dreadful power; but her most passionate endeavours were in +vain. Perhaps it was that she did not strive aright; it was for this +reason, surely, that she failed so utterly to arise superior to her +despair; for otherwise that terrible belief attributed to the +Calvinists, that some souls are foredoomed to damnation, would be +exemplified by this woman's experience. She could not forget. She could +not put away the vengeful hatred that raged like an all-devouring fire +in her breast, and she cried in her agony, "There is no cure for this +disease!" + +I think her mistake was in this, that she did not go to the right +Physician. She practised quackery with her soul, as some people do with +their bodies; trying their own remedies, rather than the simple +prescriptions of the Divine Healer of all woes. Self-reliant, and +scornful of the weakness against which her pride revolted, she trusted +to her intellect and her will to lift her out of the moral slough into +which her soul had gone down. She said: + +"I am not a woman to go mad for the love of a boyish face; I am not a +woman to die for a foolish fancy, which the veriest schoolgirl might be +ashamed to confess to her companion. I am not a woman to do this, and I +_will_ cure myself of my folly." + +Mrs. Marchmont made an effort to take up her old life, with its dull +round of ceaseless duty, its perpetual self-denial. If she had been a +Roman Catholic, she would have gone to the nearest convent, and prayed +to be permitted to take such vows as might soonest set a barrier +between herself and the world; she would have spent the long weary days +in perpetual and secret prayer; she would have worn deeper indentations +upon the stones already hollowed by faithful knees. As it was, she made +a routine of penance for herself, after her own fashion: going long +distances on foot to visit her poor, when she might have ridden in her +carriage; courting exposure to rain and foul weather; wearing herself +out with unnecessary fatigue, and returning footsore to her desolate +home, to fall fainting into the strong arms of her grim attendant, +Barbara. + +But this self-appointed penance could not shut Edward Arundel and Mary +Marchmont from the widow's mind. Walking through a fiery furnace their +images would have haunted her still, vivid and palpable even in the +agony of death. The fatigue of the long weary walks made Mrs. Marchmont +wan and pale; the exposure to storm and rain brought on a tiresome, +hacking cough, which worried her by day and disturbed her fitful +slumbers by night. No good whatever seemed to come of her endeavours; +and the devils who rejoiced at her weakness and her failure claimed her +as their own. They claimed her as their own; and they were not without +terrestrial agents, working patiently in their service, and ready to +help in securing their bargain. + +The great clock in the quadrangle had struck the half-hour after three; +the atmosphere of the August afternoon was sultry and oppressive. Mrs. +Marchmont had closed her eyes after flinging aside her book, and had +fallen into a doze: her nights were broken and wakeful, and the hot +stillness of the day had made her drowsy. + +She was aroused from this half-slumber by Barbara Simmons, who came +into the room carrying two cards upon a salver,--the same old-fashioned +and emblazoned salver upon which Paul Marchmont's card had been brought +to the widow nearly three years before. The Abigail stood halfway +between the door and the window by which the widow sat, looking at her +mistress's face with a glance of sharp scrutiny. + +"She's changed since he came back, and changed again since he went +away," the woman thought; "just as she always changed at the Rectory at +his coming and going. Why didn't he take to her, I wonder? He might +have known her fancy for him, if he'd had eyes to watch her face, or +ears to listen to her voice. She's handsomer than the other one, and +cleverer in book-learning; but she keeps 'em off--she seems allers to +keep 'em off." + +I think Olivia Marchmont would have torn the very heart out of this +waiting-woman's breast, had she known the thoughts that held a place in +it: had she known that the servant who attended upon her, and took +wages from her, dared to pluck out her secret, and to speculate upon +her suffering. + +The widow awoke suddenly, and looked up with an impatient frown. She +had not been awakened by the opening of the door, but by that +unpleasant sensation which almost always reveals the presence of a +stranger to a sleeper of nervous temperament. + +"What is it, Barbara?" she asked; and then, as her eyes rested on the +cards, she added, angrily, "Haven't I told you that I would not see any +callers to-day? I am worn out with my cough, and feel too ill to see +any one." + +"Yes, Miss Livy," the woman answered;--she called her mistress by this +name still, now and then, so familiar had it grown to her during the +childhood and youth of the Rector's daughter;--"I didn't forget that, +Miss Livy: I told Richardson you was not to be disturbed. But the lady +and gentleman said, if you saw what was wrote upon the back of one of +the cards, you'd be sure to make an exception in their favour. I think +that was what the lady said. She's a middle-aged lady, very talkative +and pleasant-mannered," added the grim Barbara, in nowise relaxing the +stolid gravity of her own manner as she spoke. + +Olivia snatched the cards from the salver. + +"Why do people worry me so?" she cried, impatiently. "Am I not to be +allowed even five minutes' sleep without being broken in upon by some +intruder or other?" + +Barbara Simmons looked at her mistress's face. Anxiety and sadness +dimly showed themselves in the stolid countenance of the lady's-maid. A +close observer, penetrating below that aspect of wooden solemnity which +was Barbara's normal expression, might have discovered a secret: the +quiet waiting-woman loved her mistress with a jealous and watchful +affection, that took heed of every change in its object. + +Mrs. Marchmont examined the two cards, which bore the names of Mr. and +Mrs. Weston, Kemberling. On the back of the lady's card these words +were written in pencil: + +"Will Mrs. Marchmont be so good as to see Lavinia Weston, Paul +Marchmont's younger sister, and a connection of Mrs. M.'s?" + +Olivia shrugged her shoulders, as she threw down the card. + +"Paul Marchmont! Lavinia Weston!" she muttered; "yes, I remember he +said something about a sister married to a surgeon at Stanfield. Let +these people come to me, Barbara." + +The waiting-woman looked doubtfully at her mistress. + +"You'll maybe smooth your hair, and freshen yourself up a bit, before +ye see the folks, Miss Livy," she said, in a tone of mingled suggestion +and entreaty. "Ye've had a deal of worry lately, and it's made ye look +a little fagged and haggard-like. I'd not like the Kemberling folks to +say as you was ill." + +Mrs. Marchmont turned fiercely upon the Abigail. + +"Let me alone!" she cried. "What is it to you, or to any one, how I +look? What good have my looks done me, that I should worry myself about +them?" she added, under her breath. "Show these people in here, if they +want to see me." + +"They've been shown into the western drawing-room, ma'am;--Richardson +took 'em in there." + +Barbara Simmons fought hard for the preservation of appearances. She +wanted the Rector's daughter to receive these strange people, who had +dared to intrude upon her, in a manner befitting the dignity of John +Marchmont's widow. She glanced furtively at the disorder of the gloomy +chamber. Books and papers were scattered here and there; the hearth and +low fender were littered with heaps of torn letters,--for Olivia +Marchmont had no tenderness for the memorials of the past, and indeed +took a fierce delight in sweeping away the unsanctified records of her +joyless, loveless life. The high-backed oaken chairs had been pushed +out of their places; the green-cloth cover had been drawn half off the +massive table, and hung in trailing folds upon the ground. A book flung +here; a shawl there; a handkerchief in another place; an open +secretaire, with scattered documents and uncovered inkstand,--littered +the room, and bore mute witness of the restlessness of its occupant. It +needed no very subtle psychologist to read aright those separate tokens +of a disordered mind; of a weary spirit which had sought distraction in +a dozen occupations, and had found relief in none. It was some vague +sense of this that caused Barbara Simmons's anxiety. She wished to keep +strangers out of this room, in which her mistress, wan, haggard, and +weary-looking, revealed her secret by so many signs and tokens. But +before Olivia could make any answer to her servant's suggestion, the +door, which Barbara had left ajar, was pushed open by a very gentle +hand, and a sweet voice said, in cheery chirping accents, + +"I am sure I may come in; may I not, Mrs. Marchmont? The impression my +brother Paul's description gave me of you is such a very pleasant one, +that I venture to intrude uninvited, almost forbidden, perhaps." + +The voice and manner of the speaker were so airy and self-possessed, +there was such a world of cheerfulness and amiability in every tone, +that, as Olivia Marchmont rose from her chair, she put her hand to her +head, dazed and confounded, as if by the too boisterous carolling of +some caged bird. What did they mean, these accents of gladness, these +clear and untroubled tones, which sounded shrill, and almost +discordant, in the despairing woman's ears? She stood, pale and worn, +the very picture of all gloom and misery, staring hopelessly at her +visitor; too much abandoned to her grief to remember, in that first +moment, the stern demands of pride. She stood still; revealing, by her +look, her attitude, her silence, her abstraction, a whole history to +the watchful eyes that were looking at her. + +Mrs. Weston lingered on the threshold of the chamber in a pretty +half-fluttering manner; which was charmingly expressive of a struggle +between a modest poor-relation-like diffidence and an earnest desire to +rush into Olivia's arms. The surgeon's wife was a delicate-looking +little woman, with features that seemed a miniature and feminine +reproduction of her brother Paul's, and with very light hair,--hair so +light and pale that, had it turned as white as the artist's in a single +night, very few people would have been likely to take heed of the +change. Lavinia Weston was eminently what is generally called a +_lady-like_ woman. She always conducted herself in that especial and +particular manner which was exactly fitted to the occasion. She +adjusted her behaviour by the nicest shades of colour and hair-breadth +scale of measurement. She had, as it were, made for herself a +homoeopathic system of good manners, and could mete out politeness and +courtesy in the veriest globules, never administering either too much +or too little. To her husband she was a treasure beyond all price; and +if the Lincolnshire surgeon, who was a fat, solemn-faced man, with a +character as level and monotonous as the flats and fens of his native +county, was henpecked, the feminine autocrat held the reins of +government so lightly, that her obedient subject was scarcely aware how +very irresponsible his wife's authority had become. + +As Olivia Marchmont stood confronting the timid hesitating figure of +the intruder, with the width of the chamber between them, Lavinia +Weston, in her crisp muslin-dress and scarf, her neat bonnet and bright +ribbons and primly-adjusted gloves, looked something like an +adventurous canary who had a mind to intrude upon the den of a hungry +lioness. The difference, physical and moral, between the timid bird and +the savage forest-queen could be scarcely wider than that between the +two women. + +But Olivia did not stand for ever embarrassed and silent in her +visitor's presence. Her pride came to her rescue. She turned sternly +upon the polite intruder. + +"Walk in, if you please, Mrs. Weston," she said, "and sit down. I was +denied to you just now because I have been ill, and have ordered my +servants to deny me to every one." + +"But, my dear Mrs. Marchmont," murmured Lavinia Weston in soft, almost +dove-like accents, "if you have been ill, is not your illness another +reason for seeing us, rather than for keeping us away from you? I would +not, of course, say a word which could in any way be calculated to give +offence to your regular medical attendant,--you have a regular medical +attendant, no doubt; from Swampington, I dare say,--but a doctor's wife +may often be useful when a doctor is himself out of place. There are +little nervous ailments--depression of spirits, mental uneasiness--from +which women, and sensitive women, suffer acutely, and which perhaps a +woman's more refined nature alone can thoroughly comprehend. You are +not looking well, my dear Mrs. Marchmont. I left my husband in the +drawing-room, for I was so anxious that our first meeting should take +place without witnesses. Men think women sentimental when they are only +impulsive. Weston is a good simple-hearted creature, but he knows as +much about a woman's mind as he does of an Æolian harp. When the +strings vibrate, he hears the low plaintive notes, but he has no idea +whence the melody comes. It is thus with us, Mrs. Marchmont. These +medical men watch us in the agonies of hysteria; they hear our sighs, +they see our tears, and in their awkwardness and ignorance they +prescribe commonplace remedies out of the pharmacopoeia. No, dear Mrs. +Marchmont, you do not look well. I fear it is the mind, the mind, which +has been over-strained. Is it not so?" + +Mrs. Weston put her head on one side as she asked this question, and +smiled at Olivia with an air of gentle insinuation. If the doctor's +wife wished to plumb the depths of the widow's gloomy soul, she had an +advantage here; for Mrs. Marchmont was thrown off her guard by the +question, which had been perhaps asked hap-hazard, or it may be with a +deeply considered design. Olivia turned fiercely upon the polite +questioner. + +"I have been suffering from nothing but a cold which I caught the other +day," she said; "I am not subject to any fine-ladylike hysteria, I can +assure you, Mrs. Weston." + +The doctor's wife pursed up her lips into a sympathetic smile, not at +all abashed by this rebuff. She had seated herself in one of the +high-backed chairs, with her muslin skirt spread out about her. She +looked a living exemplification of all that is neat and prim and +commonplace, in contrast with the pale, stern-faced woman, standing +rigid and defiant in her long black robes. + +"How very chy-arming!" exclaimed Mrs. Weston. "You are really _not_ +nervous. Dee-ar me; and from what my brother Paul said, I should have +imagined that any one so highly organised must be rather nervous. But I +really fear I am impertinent, and that I presume upon our very slight +relationship. It _is_ a relationship, is it not, although such a very +slight one?" + +"I have never thought of the subject," Mrs. Marchmont replied coldly. +"I suppose, however, that my marriage with your brother's cousin--" + +"And _my_ cousin--" + +"Made a kind of connexion between us. But Mr. Marchmont gave me to +understand that you lived at Stanfield, Mrs. Weston." + +"Until last week, positively until last week," answered the surgeon's +wife. "I see you take very little interest in village gossip, Mrs. +Marchmont, or you would have heard of the change at Kemberling." + +"What change?" + +"My husband's purchase of poor old Mr. Dawnfield's practice. The dear +old man died a month ago,--you heard of his death, of course,--and Mr. +Weston negotiated the purchase with Mrs. Dawnfield in less than a +fortnight. We came here early last week, and already we are making +friends in the neighbourhood. How strange that you should not have +heard of our coming!" + +"I do not see much society," Olivia answered indifferently, "and I hear +nothing of the Kemberling people." + +"Indeed!" cried Mrs. Weston; "and we hear so much of Marchmont Towers +at Kemberling." + +She looked full in the widow's face as she spoke, her stereotyped smile +subsiding into a look of greedy curiosity; a look whose intense +eagerness could not be concealed. + +That look, and the tone in which her last sentence had been spoken, +said as plainly as the plainest words could have done, "I have heard of +Mary Marchmont's flight." + +Olivia understood this; but in the passionate depth of her own madness +she had no power to fathom the meanings or the motives of other people. +She revolted against this Mrs. Weston, and disliked her because the +woman intruded upon her in her desolation; but she never once thought +of Lavinia Weston's interest in Mary's movements; she never once +remembered that the frail life of that orphan girl only stood between +this woman's brother and the rich heritage of Marchmont Towers. + +Blind and forgetful of everything in the hideous egotism of her +despair, what was Olivia Marchmont but a fitting tool, a plastic and +easily-moulded instrument, in the hands of unscrupulous people, whose +hard intellects had never been beaten into confused shapelessness in +the fiery furnace of passion? + +Mrs. Weston had heard of Mary Marchmont's flight; but she had heard +half a dozen different reports of that event, as widely diversified in +their details as if half a dozen heiresses had fled from Marchmont +Towers. Every gossip in the place had a separate story as to the +circumstances which had led to the girl's running away from her home. +The accounts vied with each other in graphic force and minute +elaboration; the conversations that had taken place between Mary and +her stepmother, between Edward Arundel and Mrs. Marchmont, between the +Rector of Swampington and nobody in particular, would have filled a +volume, as related by the gossips of Kemberling; but as everybody +assigned a different cause for the terrible misunderstanding at the +Towers, and a different direction for Mary's flight,--and as the +railway official at the station, who could have thrown some light on +the subject, was a stern and moody man, who had little sympathy with +his kind, and held his tongue persistently,--it was not easy to get +very near the truth. Under these circumstances, then, Mrs. Weston +determined upon seeking information at the fountain-head, and +approaching the cruel stepmother, who, according to some of the +reports, had starved and beaten her dead husband's child. + +"Yes, dear Mrs. Marchmont," said Lavinia Weston, seeing that it was +necessary to come direct to the point if she wished to wring the truth +from Olivia; "yes, we hear of everything at Kemberling; and I need +scarcely tell you, that we heard of the sad trouble which you have had +to endure since your ball--the ball that is spoken of as the most +chy-arming entertainment remembered in the neighbourhood for a long +time. We heard of this sad girl's flight." + +Mrs. Marchmont looked up with a dark frown, but made no answer. + +"Was she--it really is such a very painful question, that I almost +shrink from--but was Miss Marchmont at all--eccentric--a little +mentally deficient? Pray pardon me, if I have given you pain by such a +question; but----" + +Olivia started, and looked sharply at her visitor. "Mentally deficient? +No!" she said. But as she spoke her eyes dilated, her pale cheeks grew +paler, her upper lip quivered with a faint convulsive movement. It +seemed as if some idea presented itself to her with a sudden force that +almost took away her breath. + +"_Not_ mentally deficient!" repeated Lavinia Weston; "dee-ar me! It's a +great comfort to hear that. Of course Paul saw very little of his +cousin, and he was not therefore in a position to judge,--though his +opinions, however rapidly arrived at, are generally so _very_ +accurate;--but he gave me to understand that he thought Miss Marchmont +appeared a little--just a little--weak in her intellect. I am very glad +to find he was mistaken." + +Olivia made no reply to this speech. She had seated herself in her +chair by the window; she looked straight before her into the flagged +quadrangle, with her hands lying idle in her lap. It seemed as if she +were actually unconscious of her visitor's presence, or as if, in her +scornful indifference, she did not even care to affect any interest in +that visitor's conversation. + +Lavinia Weston returned again to the attack. + +"Pray, Mrs. Marchmont, do not think me intrusive or impertinent," she +said pleadingly, "if I ask you to favour me with the true particulars +of this sad event. I am sure you will be good enough to remember that +my brother Paul, my sister, and myself are Mary Marchmont's nearest +relatives on her father's side, and that we have therefore some right +to feel interested in her?" + +By this very polite speech Lavinia Weston plainly reminded the widow of +the insignificance of her own position at Marchmont Towers. In her +ordinary frame of mind Olivia would have resented the ladylike slight, +but to-day she neither heard nor heeded it; she was brooding with a +stupid, unreasonable persistency over the words "mental deficiency," +"weak intellect." She only roused herself by a great effort to answer +Mrs. Weston's question, when that lady had repeated it in very plain +words. + +"I can tell you nothing about Miss Marchmont's flight," she said, +coldly, "except that she chose to run away from her home. I found +reason to object to her conduct upon the night of the ball; and the +next morning she left the house, assigning no reason--to me, at any +rate--for her absurd and improper behaviour." + +"She assigned no reason to _you_, my dear Mrs. Marchmont; but she +assigned a reason to somebody, I infer, from what you say?" + +"Yes; she wrote a letter to my cousin, Captain Arundel." + +"Telling him the reason of her departure?" + +"I don't know--I forget. The letter told nothing clearly; it was wild +and incoherent." + +Mrs. Weston sighed,--a long-drawn, desponding sigh. + +"Wild and incoherent!" she murmured, in a pensive tone. "How grieved +Paul will be to hear of this! He took such an interest in his cousin--a +delicate and fragile-looking young creature, he told me. Yes, he took a +very great interest in her, Mrs. Marchmont, though you may perhaps +scarcely believe me when I say so. He kept himself purposely aloof from +this place; his sensitive nature led him to abstain from even revealing +his interest in Miss Marchmont. His position, you must remember, with +regard to this poor dear girl, is a very delicate--I may say a very +painful--one." + +Olivia remembered nothing of the kind. The value of the Marchmont +estates; the sordid worth of those wide-stretching farms, spreading +far-away into Yorkshire; the pitiful, closely-calculated revenue, which +made Mary a wealthy heiress,--were so far from the dark thoughts of +this woman's desperate heart, that she no more suspected Mrs. Weston of +any mercenary design in coming to the Towers, than of burglarious +intentions with regard to the silver spoons in the plate-room. She only +thought that the surgeon's wife was a tiresome woman, against whose +pertinacious civility her angry spirit chafed and rebelled, until she +was almost driven to order her from the room. + +In this cruel weariness of spirit Mrs. Marchmont gave a short impatient +sigh, which afforded a sufficient hint to such an accomplished +tactician as her visitor. + +"I know I have tired you, my dear Mrs. Marchmont," the doctor's wife +said, rising and arranging her muslin scarf as she spoke, in token of +her immediate departure. "I am so sorry to find you a sufferer from +that nasty hacking cough; but of course you have the best advice,--Mr. +Barlow from Swampington, I think you said?"--Olivia had said nothing of +the kind;--"and I trust the warm weather will prevent the cough taking +any hold of your chest. If I might venture to suggest flannels--so many +young women quite ridicule the idea of flannels--but, as the wife of a +humble provincial practitioner, I have learned their value. Good-bye, +dear Mrs. Marchmont. I may come again, may I not, now that the ice is +broken, and we are so well acquainted with each other? Good-bye." + +Olivia could not refuse to take at least _one_ of the two plump and +tightly-gloved hands which were held out to her with an air of frank +cordiality; but the widow's grasp was loose and nerveless, and, +inasmuch as two consentient parties are required to the shaking of +hands as well as to the getting up of a quarrel, the salutation was not +a very hearty one. + +The surgeon's pony must have been weary of standing before the flight +of shallow steps leading to the western portico, when Mrs. Weston took +her seat by her husband's side in the gig, which had been newly painted +and varnished since the worthy couple's hegira from Stanfield. + +The surgeon was not an ambitious man, nor a designing man; he was +simply stupid and lazy--lazy although, in spite of himself, he led an +active and hard-working life; but there are many square men whose sides +are cruelly tortured by the pressure of the round holes into which they +are ill-advisedly thrust, and if our destinies were meted out to us in +strict accordance with our temperaments, Mr. Weston should have been a +lotus-eater. As it was, he was content to drudge on, mildly complying +with every desire of his wife; doing what she told him, because it was +less trouble to do the hardest work at her bidding than to oppose her. +It would have been surely less painful for Macbeth to have finished +that ugly business of the murder than to have endured my lady's black +contemptuous scowl, and the bitter scorn and contumely concentrated in +those four words, "Give _me_ the daggers." + +Mr. Weston asked one or two commonplace questions about his wife's +interview with John Marchmont's widow; but, slowly apprehending that +Lavinia did not care to discuss the matter, he relapsed into meek +silence, and devoted all his intellectual powers to the task of keeping +the pony out of the deeper ruts in the rugged road between Marchmont +Towers and Kemberling High Street. + +"What is the secret of that woman's life?" thought Lavinia Weston +during that homeward drive. "Has she ill-treated the girl, or is she +plotting in some way or other to get hold of the Marchmont fortune? +Pshaw! that's impossible. And yet she may be making a purse, somehow or +other, out of the estate. Anyhow, there is bad blood between the two +women." + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +A STOLEN HONEYMOON. + + +The village to which Edward Arundel took his bride was within a few +miles of Winchester. The young soldier had become familiar with the +place in his early boyhood, when he had gone to spend a part of one +bright midsummer holiday at the house of a schoolfellow; and had ever +since cherished a friendly remembrance of the winding trout-streams, +the rich verdure of the valleys, and the sheltering hills that shut in +the pleasant little cluster of thatched cottages, the pretty +white-walled villas, and the grey old church. + +But to Mary, whose experiences of town and country were limited to the +dingy purlieus of Oakley Street and the fenny flats of Lincolnshire, +this Hampshire village seemed a rustic paradise, which neither trouble +nor sorrow could ever approach. She had trembled at the thought of +Olivia's coming in Oakley Street; but here she seemed to lose all +terror of her stern stepmother,--here, sheltered and protected by her +young husband's love, she fancied that she might live her life out +happy and secure. + +She told Edward this one sunny morning, as they sat by the young man's +favourite trout-stream. Captain Arundel's fishing-tackle lay idle on +the turf at his side, for he had been beguiled into forgetfulness of a +ponderous trout he had been watching and finessing with for upwards of +an hour, and had flung himself at full length upon the mossy margin of +the water, with his uncovered head lying in Mary's lap. + +The childish bride would have been content to sit for ever thus in that +rural solitude, with her fingers twisted in her husband's chestnut +curls, and her soft eyes keeping timid watch upon his handsome +face,--so candid and unclouded in its careless repose. The undulating +meadow-land lay half-hidden in a golden haze, only broken here and +there by the glitter of the brighter sunlight that lit up the waters of +the wandering streams that intersected the low pastures. The massive +towers of the cathedral, the grey walls of St. Cross, loomed dimly in +the distance; the bubbling plash of a mill-stream sounded like some +monotonous lullaby in the drowsy summer atmosphere. Mary looked from +the face she loved to the fair landscape about her, and a tender +solemnity crept into her mind--a reverent love and admiration for this +beautiful earth, which was almost akin to awe. + +"How pretty this place is, Edward!" she said. "I had no idea there were +such places in all the wide world. Do you know, I think I would rather +be a cottage-girl here than an heiress in Lincolnshire. Edward, if I +ask you a favour, will you grant it?" + +She spoke very earnestly, looking down at her husband's upturned face; +but Captain Arundel only laughed at her question, without even caring +to lift the drowsy eyelids that drooped over his blue eyes. + +"Well, my pet, if you want anything short of the moon, I suppose your +devoted husband is scarcely likely to refuse it. Our honeymoon is not a +fortnight old yet, Polly dear; you wouldn't have me turn tyrant quite +as soon as this. Speak out, Mrs. Arundel, and assert your dignity as a +British matron. What is the favour I am to grant?" + +"I want you to live here always, Edward darling," pleaded the girlish +voice. "Not for a fortnight or a month, but for ever and ever. I have +never been happy at Marchmont Towers. Papa died there, you know, and I +cannot forget that. Perhaps that ought to have made the place sacred to +me, and so it has; but it is sacred like papa's tomb in Kemberling +Church, and it seems like profanation to be happy in it, or to forget +my dead father even for a moment. Don't let us go back there, Edward. +Let my stepmother live there all her life. It would seem selfish and +cruel to turn her out of the house she has so long been mistress of. +Mr. Gormby will go on collecting the rents, you know, and can send us +as much money as we want; and we can take that pretty house we saw to +let on the other side of Milldale,--the house with the rookery, and the +dovecotes, and the sloping lawn leading down to the water. You know you +don't like Lincolnshire, Edward, any more than I do, and there's +scarcely any trout-fishing near the Towers." + +Captain Arundel opened his eyes, and lifted himself out of his +reclining position before he answered his wife. + +"My own precious Polly," he said, smiling fondly at the gentle childish +face turned in such earnestness towards his own; "my runaway little +wife, rich people have their duties to perform as well as poor people; +and I am afraid it would never do for you to hide in this +out-of-the-way Hampshire village, and play absentee from stately +Marchmont and all its dependencies. I love that pretty, infantine, +unworldly spirit of yours, my darling; and I sometimes wish we were two +grown-up babes in the wood, and could wander about gathering wild +flowers, and eating blackberries and hazel-nuts, until the shades of +evening closed in, and the friendly robins came to bury us. Don't fancy +I am tired of our honeymoon, Polly, or that I care for Marchmont Towers +any more than you do; but I fear the non-residence plan would never +answer. The world would call my little wife eccentric, if she ran away +from her grandeur; and Paul Marchmont the artist,--of whom your poor +father had rather a bad opinion, by the way,--would be taking out a +statute of lunacy against you." + +"Paul Marchmont!" repeated Mary. "Did papa dislike Mr. Paul Marchmont?" + +"Well, poor John had a sort of a prejudice against the man, I believe; +but it was only a prejudice, for he freely confessed that he could +assign no reason for it. But whatever Mr. Paul Marchmont may be, you +must live at the Towers, Mary, and be Lady Bountiful-in-chief in your +neighbourhood, and look after your property, and have long interviews +with Mr. Gormby, and become altogether a woman of business; so that +when I go back to India----" + +Mary interrupted him with a little cry: + +"Go back to India!" she exclaimed. "What do you mean, Edward?" + +"I mean, my darling, that my business in life is to fight for my Queen +and country, and not to spunge upon my wife's fortune. You don't +suppose I'm going to lay down my sword at seven-and-twenty years of +age, and retire upon my pension? No, Polly; you remember what Lord +Nelson said on the deck of the _Victory_ at Trafalgar. That saying can +never be so hackneyed as to lose its force. I must do my duty, Polly--I +must do my duty, even if duty and love pull different ways, and I have +to leave my darling, in the service of my country." + +Mary clasped her hands in despair, and looked piteously at her +lover-husband, with the tears streaming down her pale cheeks. + +"O Edward," she cried, "how cruel you are; how very, very cruel you are +to me! What is the use of my fortune if you won't share it with me, if +you won't take it all; for it is yours, my dearest--it is all yours? I +remember the words in the Marriage Service, 'with all my goods I thee +endow.' I have given you Marchmont Towers, Edward; nobody in the world +can take it away from you. You never, never, never could be so cruel as +to leave me! I know how brave and good you are, and I am proud to think +of your noble courage and all the brave deeds you did in India. But you +_have_ fought for your country, Edward; you _have_ done your duty. +Nobody can expect more of you; nobody shall take you from me. O my +darling, my husband, you promised to shelter and defend me while our +lives last! You won't leave me--you won't leave me, will you?" + +Edward Arundel kissed the tears away from his wife's pale face, and +drew her head upon his bosom. + +"My love," he said tenderly, "you cannot tell how much pain it gives me +to hear you talk like this. What can I do? To give up my profession +would be to make myself next kin to a pauper. What would the world say +of me, Mary? Think of that. This runaway marriage would be a dreadful +dishonour to me, if it were followed by a life of lazy dependence on my +wife's fortune. Nobody can dare to slander the soldier who spends the +brightest years of his life in the service of his country. You would +not surely have me be less than true to myself, Mary darling? For my +honour's sake, I must leave you." + +"O no, no, no!" cried the girl, in a low wailing voice. Unselfish and +devoted as she had been in every other crisis of her young life, she +could not be reasonable or self-denying here; she was seized with +despair at the thought of parting with her husband. No, not even for +his honour's sake could she let him go. Better that they should both +die now, in this early noontide of their happiness. + +"Edward, Edward," she sobbed, clinging convulsively about the young +man's neck, "don't leave me--don't leave me!" + +"Will you go with me to India, then, Mary?" + +She lifted her head suddenly, and looked her husband in the face, with +the gladness in her eyes shining through her tears, like an April sun +through a watery sky. + +"I would go to the end of the world with you, my own darling," she +said; "the burning sands and the dreadful jungles would have no terrors +for me, if I were with you, Edward." + +Captain Arundel smiled at her earnestness. + +"I won't take you into the jungle, my love," he answered, playfully; +"or if I do, your palki shall be well guarded, and all ravenous beasts +kept at a respectful distance from my little wife. A great many ladies +go to India with their husbands, Polly, and come back very little the +worse for the climate or the voyage; and except your money, there is no +reason you should not go with me." + +"Oh, never mind my money; let anybody have that." + +"Polly," cried the soldier, very seriously, "we must consult Richard +Paulette as to the future. I don't think I did right in marrying you +during his absence; and I have delayed writing to him too long, Polly. +Those letters must be written this afternoon." + +"The letter to Mr. Paulette and to your father?" + +"Yes; and the letter to my cousin Olivia." + +Mary's face grew sorrowful again, as Captain Arundel said this. + +"_Must_ you tell my stepmother of our marriage?" she said. + +"Most assuredly, my dear. Why should we keep her in ignorance of it? +Your father's will gave her the privilege of advising you, but not the +power to interfere with your choice, whatever that choice might be. You +were your own mistress, Mary, when you married me. What reason have you +to fear my cousin Olivia?" + +"No reason, perhaps," the girl answered, sadly; "but I do fear her. I +know I am very foolish, Edward, and you have reason to despise me,--you +who are so brave. But I could never tell you how I tremble at the +thought of being once more in my stepmother's power. She said cruel +things to me, Edward. Every word she spoke seemed to stab me to the +heart; but it isn't that only. There's something more than that; +something that I can't describe, that I can't understand; something +which tells me that she hates me." + +"Hates you, darling?" + +"Yes, Edward; yes, she hates me. It wasn't always so, you know. She +used to be only cold and reserved, but lately her manner has changed. I +thought that she was ill, perhaps, and that my presence worried her. +People often wish to be alone, I know, when they are ill. O Edward, I +have seen her shrink from me, and shudder if her dress brushed against +mine, as if I had been some horrible creature. What have I done, +Edward, that she should hate me?" + +Captain Arundel knitted his brows, and set himself to work out this +womanly problem, but he could make nothing of it. Yes, what Mary had +said was perfectly true: Olivia hated her. The young man had seen that +upon the morning of the girl's flight from Marchmont Towers; he had +seen vengeful fury and vindictive passion raging in the dark face of +John Marchmont's widow. But what reason could the woman have for her +hatred of this innocent girl? Again and again Olivia's cousin asked +himself this question; and he was so far away from the truth at last, +that he could only answer it by imagining the lowest motive for the +widow's bad feeling. "She envies my poor little girl her fortune and +position," he thought. + +"But you won't leave me alone with my stepmother, will you, Edward?" +Mary said, recurring to her old prayer. "I am not afraid of her, nor of +anybody or anything in the world, while you are with me,--how should I +be?--but I think if I were to be alone with her again, I should die. +She would speak to me again as she spoke upon the night of the ball, +and her bitter taunts would kill me. I _could_ not bear to be in her +power again, Edward." + +"And you shall not, my darling," answered the young man, enfolding the +slender, trembling figure in his strong arms. "My own childish pet, you +shall never be exposed to any woman's insolence or tyranny. You shall +be sheltered and protected, and hedged in on every side by your +husband's love. And when I go to India, you shall sail with me, my +pearl. Mary, look up and smile at me, and let's have no more talk of +cruel stepmothers. How strange it seems to me, Polly dear, that you +should have been so womanly when you were a child, and yet are so +childlike now you are a woman!" + +The mistress of Marchmont Towers looked doubtfully at her husband, as +if she feared her childishness might be displeasing to him. + +"You don't love me any the less because of that, do you, Edward?" she +asked timidly. + +"Because of what, my treasure?" + +"Because I am so--childish?" + +"Polly," cried the young man, "do you think Jupiter liked Hebe any the +less because she was as fresh and innocent as the nectar she served out +to him? If he had, my dear, he'd have sent for Clotho, or Atropos, or +some one or other of the elderly maiden ladies of Hades, to wait upon +him as cupbearer. I wouldn't have you otherwise than you are, Polly, by +so much as one thought." + +The girl looked up at her husband in a rapture of innocent affection. + +"I am too happy, Edward," she said, in a low awe-stricken whisper--"I +am too happy! So much happiness can never last." + +Alas! the orphan girl's experience of this life had early taught her +the lesson which some people learn so late. She had learnt to distrust +the equal blue of a summer sky, the glorious splendour of the blazing +sunlight. She was accustomed to sorrow; but these brief glimpses of +perfect happiness filled her with a dim sense of terror. She felt like +some earthly wanderer who had strayed across the threshold of Paradise. +In the midst of her delight and admiration, she trembled for the moment +in which the ruthless angels, bearing flaming swords, should drive her +from the celestial gates. + +"It can't last, Edward," she murmured. + +"Can't last, Polly!" cried the young man; "why, my dove is transformed +all at once into a raven. We have outlived our troubles, Polly, like +the hero and heroine in one of your novels; and what is to prevent our +living happy ever afterwards, like them? If you remember, my dear, no +sorrows or trials ever fall to the lot of people _after_ marriage. The +persecutions, the separations, the estrangements, are all ante-nuptial. +When once your true novelist gets his hero and heroine up to the +altar-rails in real earnest,--he gets them into the church sometimes, +and then forbids the banns, or brings a former wife, or a rightful +husband, pale and denouncing, from behind a pillar, and drives the +wretched pair out again, to persecute them through three hundred pages +more before he lets them get back again,--but when once the important +words are spoken and the knot tied, the story's done, and the happy +couple get forty or fifty years' wedded bliss, as a set-off against the +miseries they have endured in the troubled course of a twelvemonth's +courtship. That's the sort of thing, isn't it, Polly?" + +The clock of St. Cross, sounding faintly athwart the meadows, struck +three as the young man finished speaking. + +"Three o'clock, Polly!" he cried; "we must go home, my pet. I mean to +be businesslike to-day." + +Upon each day in that happy honeymoon holiday Captain Arundel had made +some such declaration with regard to his intention of being +businesslike; that is to say, setting himself deliberately to the task +of writing those letters which should announce and explain his marriage +to the people who had a right to hear of it. But the soldier had a +dislike to all letter-writing, and a special horror of any epistolary +communication which could come under the denomination of a +business-letter; so the easy summer days slipped by,--the delicious +drowsy noontides, the soft and dreamy twilight, the tender moonlit +nights,--and the Captain put off the task for which he had no fancy, +from after breakfast until after dinner, and from after dinner until +after breakfast; always beguiled away from his open travelling-desk by +a word from Mary, who called him to the window to look at a pretty +child on the village green before the inn, or at the blacksmith's dog, +or the tinker's donkey, or a tired Italian organ-boy who had strayed +into that out-of-the-way nook, or at the smart butcher from Winchester, +who rattled over in a pony-cart twice a week to take orders from the +gentry round about, and to insult and defy the local purveyor, whose +stock-in-trade generally seemed to consist of one leg of mutton and a +dish of pig's fry. + +The young couple walked slowly through the meadows, crossing rustic +wooden bridges that spanned the winding stream, loitering to look down +into the clear water at the fish which Captain Arundel pointed out, but +which Mary could never see;--that young lady always fixing her eyes +upon some long trailing weed afloat in the transparent water, while the +silvery trout indicated by her husband glided quietly away to the sedgy +bottom of the stream. They lingered by the water-mill, beneath whose +shadow some children were fishing; they seized upon every pretext for +lengthening that sunny homeward walk, and only reached the inn as the +village clocks were striking four, at which hour Captain Arundel had +ordered dinner. + +But after the simple little repast, mild and artless in its nature as +the fair young spirit of the bride herself; after the landlord, +sympathetic yet respectful, had in his own person attended upon his two +guests; after the pretty rustic chamber had been cleared of all +evidence of the meal that had been eaten, Edward Arundel began +seriously to consider the business in hand. + +"The letters must be written, Polly," he said, seating himself at a +table near the open window. Trailing branches of jasmine and +honeysuckle made a framework round the diamond-paned casement; the +perfumed blossoms blew into the room with every breath of the warm +August breeze, and hung trembling in the folds of the chintz curtains. +Mr. Arundel's gaze wandered dreamily away through this open window to +the primitive picture without,--the scattered cottages upon the other +side of the green, the cattle standing in the pond, the cackling geese +hurrying homeward across the purple ridge of common, the village +gossips loitering beneath the faded sign that hung before the low white +tavern at the angle of the road. He looked at all these things as he +flung his leathern desk upon the table, and made a great parade of +unlocking and opening it. + +"The letters must be written," he repeated, with a smothered sigh. "Did +you ever notice a peculiar property in stationery, Polly?" + +Mrs. Edward Arundel only opened her brown eyes to their widest extent, +and stared at her husband. + +"No, I see you haven't," said the young man. "How should you, you +fortunate Polly? You've never had to write any business-letters yet, +though you are an heiress. The peculiarity of all stationery, my dear, +is, that it is possessed of an intuitive knowledge of the object for +which it is to be used. If one has to write an unpleasant letter, +Polly, it might go a little smoother, you know; one might round one's +paragraphs, and spell the difficult words--the 'believes' and +'receives,' the 'tills' and 'untils,' and all that sort of +thing--better with a pleasant pen, an easy-going, jolly, soft-nibbed +quill, that would seem to say, 'Cheer up, old fellow! I'll carry you +through it; we'll get to "your very obedient servant" before you know +where you are,' and so on. But, bless your heart, Polly! let a poor +unbusinesslike fellow try to write a business-letter, and everything +goes against him. The pen knows what he's at, and jibs, and stumbles, +and shies about the paper, like a broken-down screw; the ink turns +thick and lumpy; the paper gets as greasy as a London pavement after a +fall of snow, till a poor fellow gives up, and knocks under to the +force of circumstances. You see if my pen doesn't splutter, Polly, the +moment I address Richard Paulette." + +Captain Arundel was very careful in the adjustment of his sheet of +paper, and began his letter with an air of resolution. + +"White Hart Inn, Milldale, near Winchester, +"August 14th. + +"MY DEAR SIR," + +He wrote as much as this with great promptitude, and then, with his +elbow on the table, fell to staring at his pretty young wife and +drumming his fingers on his chin. Mary was sitting opposite her husband +at the open window, working, or making a pretence of being occupied +with some impossible fragment of Berlin wool-work, while she watched +her husband. + +"How pretty you look in that white frock, Polly!" said the soldier; +"you call those things frocks, don't you? And that blue sash, too,--you +ought always to wear white, Mary, like your namesakes abroad who are +_vouée au blanc_ by their faithful mothers, and who are a blessing to +the laundresses for the first seven or fourteen years of their lives. +What shall I say to Paulette? He's such a jolly fellow, there oughtn't +to be much difficulty about the matter. 'My dear sir,' seems absurdly +stiff; 'my dear Paulette,'--that's better,--'I write this to inform you +that your client, Miss Mary March----' What's that, Polly?" + +It was the postman, a youth upon a pony, with the afternoon letters +from London. Captain Arundel flung down his pen and went to the window. +He had some interest in this young man's arrival, as he had left orders +that such letters as were addressed to him at the hotel in Covent +Garden should be forwarded to him at Milldale. + +"I daresay there's a letter from Germany, Polly," he said eagerly. "My +mother and Letitia are capital correspondents; I'll wager anything +there's a letter, and I can answer it in the one I'm going to write +this evening, and that'll be killing two birds with one stone. I'll run +down to the postman, Polly." + +Captain Arundel had good reason to go after his letters, for there +seemed little chance of those missives being brought to him. The +youthful postman was standing in the porch drinking ale out of a +ponderous earthenware mug, and talking to the landlord, when Edward +went down. + +"Any letters for me, Dick?" the Captain asked. He knew the Christian +name of almost every visitor or hanger-on at the little inn, though he +had not stayed there an entire fortnight, and was as popular and +admired as if he had been some free-spoken young squire to whom all the +land round about belonged. + +"'Ees, sir," the young man answered, shuffling off his cap; "there be +two letters for ye." + +He handed the two packets to Captain Arundel, who looked doubtfully at +the address of the uppermost, which, like the other, had been +re-directed by the people at the London hotel. The original address of +this letter was in a handwriting that was strange to him; but it bore +the postmark of the village from which the Dangerfield letters were +sent. + +The back of the inn looked into an orchard, and through an open door +opposite to the porch Edward Arundel saw the low branches of the trees, +and the ripening fruit red and golden in the afternoon sunlight. He +went out into this orchard to read his letters, his mind a little +disturbed by the strange handwriting upon the Dangerfield epistle. + +The letter was from his father's housekeeper, imploring him most +earnestly to go down to the Park without delay. Squire Arundel had been +stricken with paralysis, and was declared to be in imminent danger. +Mrs. and Miss Arundel and Mr. Reginald were away in Germany. The +faithful old servant implored the younger son to lose no time in +hurrying home, if he wished to see his father alive. + +The soldier leaned against the gnarled grey trunk of an old apple-tree, +and stared at this letter with a white awe-stricken face. + +What was he to do? He must go to his father, of course. He must go +without a moment's delay. He must catch the first train that would +carry him westward from Southampton. There could be no question as to +his duty. He must go; he must leave his young wife. + +His heart sank with a sharp thrill of pain, and with perhaps some faint +shuddering sense of an unknown terror, as he thought of this. + +"It was lucky I didn't write the letters," he reflected; "no one will +guess the secret of my darling's retreat. She can stay here till I come +back to her. God knows I shall hurry back the moment my duty sets me +free. These people will take care of her. No one will know where to +look for her. I'm very glad I didn't write to Olivia. We were so happy +this morning! Who could think that sorrow would come between us so +soon?" + +Captain Arundel looked at his watch. It was a quarter to six o'clock, +and he knew that an express left Southampton for the west at eight. +There would be time for him to catch that train with the help of a +sturdy pony belonging to the landlord of the White Hart, which would +rattle him over to the station in an hour and a half. There would be +time for him to catch the train; but, oh! how little time to comfort +his darling--how little time to reconcile his young wife to the +temporary separation! + +He hurried back to the porch, briefly explained to the landlord what +had happened, ordered the pony and gig to be got ready immediately, and +then went very, very slowly upstairs, to the room in which his young +wife sat by the open window waiting for his return. + +Mary looked up at his face as he entered the room, and that one glance +told her of some new sorrow. + +"Edward," she cried, starting up from her chair with a look of terror, +"my stepmother has come." + +Even in his trouble the young man smiled at his foolish wife's +all-absorbing fear of Olivia Marchmont. + +"No, my darling," he said; "I wish to heaven our worst trouble were the +chance of your father's widow breaking in upon us. Something has +happened, Mary; something very sorrowful, very serious for me. My +father is ill, Polly dear, dangerously ill, and I must go to him." + +Mary Arundel drew a long breath. Her face had grown very white, and the +hands that were linked tightly round her husband's arm trembled a +little. + +"I will try to bear it," she said; "I will try to bear it." + +"God bless you, my darling!" the soldier answered fervently, clasping +his young wife to his breast. "I know you will. It will be a very short +parting, Mary dearest. I will come back to you directly I have seen my +father. If he is worse, there will be little need for me to stop at +Dangerfield; if he is better, I can take you back there with me. My own +darling love, it is very bitter for us to be parted thus; but I know +that you will bear it like a heroine. Won't you, Polly?" + +"I will try to bear it, dear." + +She said very little more than this, but clung about her husband, not +with any desperate force, not with any clamorous and tumultuous grief, +but with a half-despondent resignation; as a drowning man, whose +strength is well-nigh exhausted, may cling, in his hopelessness, to a +spar, which he knows he must presently abandon. + +Mary Arundel followed her husband hither and thither while he made his +brief and hurried preparations for the sudden journey; but although she +was powerless to assist him,--for her trembling hands let fall +everything she tried to hold, and there was a mist before her eyes, +which distorted and blotted the outline of every object she looked +at,--she hindered him by no noisy lamentations, she distressed him by +no tears. She suffered, as it was her habit to suffer, quietly and +uncomplainingly. + +The sun was sinking when she went with Edward downstairs to the porch, +before which the landlord's pony and gig were in waiting, in custody of +a smart lad who was to accompany Mr. Arundel to Southampton. There was +no time for any protracted farewell. It was better so, perhaps, Edward +thought. He would be back so soon, that the grief he felt in this +parting--and it may be that his suffering was scarcely less than +Mary's--seemed wasted anguish, to which it would have been sheer +cowardice to give way. But for all this the soldier very nearly broke +down when he saw his childish wife's piteous face, white in the evening +sunlight, turned to him in mute appeal, as if the quivering lips would +fain have entreated him to abandon all and to remain. He lifted the +fragile figure in his arms,--alas! it had never seemed so fragile as +now,--and covered the pale face with passionate kisses and +fast-dropping tears. + +"God bless and defend you, Mary! God keep----" + +He was ashamed of the huskiness of his voice, and putting his wife +suddenly away from him, he sprang into the gig, snatched the reins from +the boy's hand, and drove away at the pony's best speed. The +old-fashioned vehicle disappeared in a cloud of dust; and Mary, looking +after her husband with eyes that were as yet tearless, saw nothing but +glaring light and confusion, and a pastoral landscape that reeled and +heaved like a stormy sea. + +It seemed to her, as she went slowly back to her room, and sat down +amidst the disorder of open portmanteaus and overturned hatboxes, which +the young man had thrown here and there in his hurried selection of the +few things necessary for him to take on his hasty journey--it seemed as +if the greatest calamity of her life had now befallen her. As +hopelessly as she had thought of her father's death, she now thought of +Edward Arundel's departure. She could not see beyond the acute anguish +of this separation. She could not realise to herself that there was no +cause for all this terrible sorrow; that the parting was only a +temporary one; and that her husband would return to her in a few days +at the furthest. Now that she was alone, now that the necessity for +heroism was past, she abandoned herself utterly to the despair that had +held possession of her soul from the moment in which Captain Arundel +had told her of his father's illness. + +The sun went down behind the purple hills that sheltered the western +side of the little village. The tree-tops in the orchard below the open +window of Mrs. Arundel's bedroom grew dim in the grey twilight. Little +by little the sound of voices in the rooms below died away into +stillness. The fresh rosy-cheeked country girl who had waited upon the +young husband and wife, came into the sitting-room with a pair of +wax-candles in old-fashioned silver candlesticks, and lingered in the +room for a little time, expecting to receive some order from the lonely +watcher. But Mary had locked the door of her bedchamber, and sat with +her head upon the sill of the open window, looking out into the dim +orchard. It was only when the stars glimmered in the tranquil sky that +the girl's blank despair gave way before a sudden burst of tears, and +she flung herself down beside the white-curtained bed to pray for her +young husband. She prayed for him in an ecstatic fervour of love and +faith, carried away by the new hopefulness that arose out of her ardent +supplications, and picturing him going triumphant on his course, to +find his father out of danger,--restored to health, perhaps,--and to +return to her before the stars glimmered through the darkness of +another summer's night. She prayed for him, hoping and believing +everything; though at the hour in which she knelt, with the faint +starlight shimmering upon her upturned face and clasped hands, Edward +Arundel was lying, maimed and senseless, in the wretched waiting-room +of a little railway-station in Dorsetshire, watched over by an obscure +country surgeon, while the frightened officials scudded here and there +in search of some vehicle in which the young man might be conveyed to +the nearest town. + +There had been one of those accidents which seem terribly common on +every line of railway, however well managed. A signalman had mistaken +one train for another; a flag had been dropped too soon; and the +down-express had run into a heavy luggage-train blundering up from +Exeter with farm-produce for the London markets. Two men had been +killed, and a great many passengers hurt; some very seriously. Edward +Arundel's case was perhaps one of the most serious amongst these. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +SOUNDING THE DEPTHS. + + +Lavinia Weston spent the evening after her visit to Marchmont Towers at +her writing-desk, which, like everything else appertaining to her, was +a model of neatness and propriety; perfect in its way, although it was +no marvellous specimen of walnut-wood and burnished gold, no elegant +structure of papier-mâché and mother-of-pearl, but simply a +schoolgirl's homely rosewood desk, bought for fifteen shillings or a +guinea. + +Mrs. Weston had administered the evening refreshment of weak tea, stale +bread, and strong butter to her meek husband, and had dismissed him to +the surgery, a sunken and rather cellar-like apartment opening out of +the prim second-best parlour, and approached from the village street by +a side-door. The surgeon was very well content to employ himself with +the preparation of such draughts and boluses as were required by the +ailing inhabitants of Kemberling, while his wife sat at her desk in the +room above him. He left his gallipots and pestle and mortar once or +twice in the course of the evening, to clamber ponderously up the three +or four stairs leading to the sitting-room, and stare through the +keyhole of the door at Mrs. Weston's thoughtful face, and busy hand +gliding softly over the smooth note-paper. He did this in no prying or +suspicious spirit, but out of sheer admiration for his wife. + +"What a mind she has!" he murmured rapturously, as he went back to his +work; "what a mind!" + +The letter which Lavinia Weston wrote that evening was a very long one. +She was one of those women who write long letters upon every convenient +occasion. To-night she covered two sheets of note-paper with her small +neat handwriting. Those two sheets contained a detailed account of the +interview that had taken place that day between the surgeon's wife and +Olivia; and the letter was addressed to the artist, Paul Marchmont. + +Perhaps it was in consequence of the receipt of this letter that Paul +Marchmont arrived at his sister's house at Kemberling two days after +Mrs. Weston's visit to Marchmont Towers. He told the surgeon that he +came to Lincolnshire for a few days' change of air, after a long spell +of very hard work; and George Weston, who looked upon his +brother-in-law as an intellectual demigod, was very well content to +accept any explanation of Mr. Marchmont's visit. + +"Kemberling isn't a very lively place for you, Mr. Paul," he said +apologetically,--he always called his wife's brother Mr. Paul,--"but I +dare say Lavinia will contrive to make you comfortable. She persuaded +me to come here when old Dawnfield died; but I can't say she acted with +her usual tact, for the business ain't as good as my Stanfield +practice; but I don't tell Lavinia so." + +Paul Marchmont smiled. + +"The business will pick up by-and-by, I daresay," he said. "You'll have +the Marchmont Towers family to attend to in good time, I suppose." + +"That's what Lavinia said," answered the surgeon. "'Mrs. John Marchmont +can't refuse to employ a relation,' she says; 'and, as first-cousin to +Mary Marchmont's father, I ought'--meaning herself, you know--'to have +some influence in that quarter.' But then, you see, the very week we +come here the gal goes and runs away; which rather, as one may say, +puts a spoke in our wheel, you know." + +Mr. George Weston rubbed his chin reflectively as he concluded thus. He +was a man given to spending his leisure-hours--when he had any leisure, +which was not very often--in tavern parlours, where the affairs of the +nation were settled and unsettled every evening over sixpenny glasses +of hollands and water; and he regretted his removal from Stanfield, +which had been as the uprooting of all his dearest associations. He was +a solemn man, who never hazarded an opinion lightly,--perhaps because +he never had an opinion to hazard,--and his stolidity won him a good +deal of respect from strangers; but in the hands of his wife he was +meeker than the doves that cooed in the pigeon-house behind his +dwelling, and more plastic than the knob of white wax upon which +industrious Mrs. Weston was wont to rub her thread when engaged in the +mysteries of that elaborate and terrible science which women +paradoxically call _plain_ needlework. + +Paul Marchmont presented himself at the Towers upon the day after his +arrival at Kemberling. His interview with the widow was a very long +one. He had studied every line of his sister's letter; he had weighed +every word that had fallen from Olivia's lips and had been recorded by +Lavinia Weston; and taking the knowledge thus obtained as his +starting-point, he took his dissecting-knife and went to work at an +intellectual autopsy. He anatomised the wretched woman's soul. He made +her tell her secret, and bare her tortured breast before him; now +wringing some hasty word from her impatience, now entrapping her into +some admission,--if only so much as a defiant look, a sudden lowering +of the dark brows, an involuntary compression of the lips. He _made_ +her reveal herself to him. Poor Rosencranz and Guildenstern were sorry +blunderers in that art which is vulgarly called pumping, and were +easily put out by a few quips and quaint retorts from the mad Danish +prince; but Paul Marchmont _would_ have played upon Hamlet more deftly +than ever mortal musician played upon pipe or recorder, and would have +fathomed the remotest depths of that sorrowful and erratic soul. Olivia +writhed under the torture of that polite inquisition, for she knew that +her secrets were being extorted from her; that her pitiful folly--that +folly which she would have denied even to herself, if possible--was +being laid bare in all its weak foolishness. She knew this; but she was +compelled to smile in the face of her bland inquisitor, to respond to +his commonplace expressions of concern about the protracted absence of +the missing girl, and meekly to receive his suggestions respecting the +course it was her duty to take. He had the air of responding to _her_ +suggestions, rather than of himself dictating any particular line of +conduct. He affected to believe that he was only agreeing with some +understood ideas of hers, while he urged his own views upon her. + +"Then we are quite of one mind in this, my dear Mrs. Marchmont," he +said at last; "this unfortunate girl must not be suffered to remain +away from her legitimate home any longer than we can help. It is our +duty to find and bring her back. I need scarcely say that you, being +bound to her by every tie of affection, and having, beyond this, the +strongest claim upon her gratitude for your devoted fulfilment of the +trust confided in you,--one hears of these things, Mrs. Marchmont, in a +country village like Kemberling,--I need scarcely say that you are the +most fitting person to win the poor child back to a sense of her +duty--if she _can_ be won to such a sense." Paul Marchmont added, after +a sudden pause and a thoughtful sigh, "I sometimes fear----" + +He stopped abruptly, waiting until Olivia should question him. + +"You sometimes fear----?" + +"That--that the error into which Miss Marchmont has fallen is the +result of a mental rather than of a moral deficiency." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean this, my dear Mrs. Marchmont," answered the artist, gravely; +"one of the most powerful evidences of the soundness of a man's brain +is his capability of assigning a reasonable motive for every action of +his life. No matter how unreasonable the action in itself may seem, if +the motive for that action can be demonstrated. But the moment a man +acts _without_ motive, we begin to take alarm and to watch him. He is +eccentric; his conduct is no longer amenable to ordinary rule; and we +begin to trace his eccentricities to some weakness or deficiency in his +judgment or intellect. Now, I ask you what motive Mary Marchmont can +have had for running away from this house?" + +Olivia quailed under the piercing scrutiny of the artist's cold grey +eyes, but she did not attempt to reply to his question. + +"The answer is very simple," he continued, after that long scrutiny; +"the girl could have had no cause for flight; while, on the other hand, +every reasonable motive that can be supposed to actuate a woman's +conduct was arrayed against her. She had a happy home, a kind +stepmother. She was within a few years of becoming undisputed mistress +of a very large estate. And yet, immediately after having assisted at a +festive entertainment, to all appearance as gay and happy as the gayest +and happiest there, this girl runs away in the dead of the night, +abandoning the mansion which is her own property, and assigning no +reason whatever for what she does. Can you wonder, then, if I feel +confirmed in an opinion that I formed upon the day on which I heard the +reading of my cousin's will?" + +"What opinion?" + +"That Mary Marchmont is as feeble in mind as she is fragile in body." + +He launched this sentence boldly, and waited for Olivia's reply. He had +discovered the widow's secret. He had fathomed the cause of her jealous +hatred of Mary Marchmont; but even _he_ did not yet understand the +nature of the conflict in the desperate woman's breast. She could not +be wicked all at once. Against every fresh sin she made a fresh +struggle, and she would not accept the lie which the artist tried to +force upon her. + +"I do not think that there is any deficiency in my stepdaughter's +intellect," she said, resolutely. + +She was beginning to understand that Paul Marchmont wanted to ally +himself with her against the orphan heiress, but as yet she did not +understand why he should do so. She was slow to comprehend feelings +that were utterly foreign to her own nature. There was so little of +mercenary baseness in this strange woman's soul, that had the flame of +a candle alone stood between her and the possession of Marchmont +Towers, I doubt if she would have cared to waste a breath upon its +extinction. She had lived away from the world, and out of the world; +and it was difficult for her to comprehend the mean and paltry +wickedness which arise out of the worship of Baal. + +Paul Marchmont recoiled a little before the straight answer which the +widow had given him. + +"You think Miss Marchmont strong-minded, then, perhaps?" he said. + +"No; not strong minded." + +"My dear Mrs. Marchmont, you deal in paradoxes," exclaimed the artist. +"You say that your stepdaughter is neither weak-minded nor +strong-minded?" + +"Weak enough, perhaps, to be easily influenced by other people; weak +enough to believe anything my cousin Edward Arundel might choose to +tell her; but not what is generally called deficient in intellect." + +"You think her perfectly able to take care of herself?" + +"Yes; I think so." + +"And yet this running away looks almost as if----. But I have no wish +to force any unpleasant belief upon you, my dear madam. I think--as you +yourself appear to suggest--that the best thing we can do is to get +this poor girl home again as quickly as possible. It will never do for +the mistress of Marchmont Towers to be wandering about the world with +Mr. Edward Arundel. Pray pardon me, Mrs. Marchmont, if I speak rather +disrespectfully of your cousin; but I really cannot think that the +gentleman has acted very honourably in this business." + +Olivia was silent. She remembered the passionate indignation of the +young soldier, the angry defiance hurled at her, as Edward Arundel +galloped away from the gaunt western façade. She remembered these +things, and involuntarily contrasted them with the smooth blandness of +Paul Marchmont's talk, and the deadly purpose lurking beneath it--of +which deadly purpose some faint suspicion was beginning to dawn upon +her. + +If she could have thought Mary Marchmont mad,--if she could have +thought Edward Arundel base, she would have been glad; for then there +would have been some excuse for her own wickedness. But she could not +think so. She slipped little by little down into the black gulf; now +dragged by her own mad passion; now lured yet further downward by Paul +Marchmont. + +Between this man and eleven thousand a year the life of a fragile girl +was the solitary obstacle. For three years it had been so, and for +three years Paul Marchmont had waited--patiently, as it was his habit +to wait--the hour and the opportunity for action. The hour and +opportunity had come, and this woman, Olivia Marchmont, only stood in +his way. She must become either his enemy or his tool, to be baffled or +to be made useful. He had now sounded the depths of her nature, and he +determined to make her his tool. + +"It shall be my business to discover this poor child's hiding-place," +he said; "when that is found I will communicate with you, and I know +you will not refuse to fulfil the trust confided to you by your late +husband. You will bring your stepdaughter back to this house, and +henceforward protect her from the dangerous influence of Edward +Arundel." + +Olivia looked at the speaker with an expression which seemed like +terror. It was as if she said,-- + +"Are you the devil, that you hold out this temptation to me, and twist +my own passions to serve your purpose?" + +And then she paltered with her conscience. + +"Do you consider that it is my duty to do this?" she asked. + +"My dear Mrs. Marchmont, most decidedly." + +"I will do it, then. I--I--wish to do my duty." + +"And you can perform no greater act of charity than by bringing this +unhappy girl back to a sense of _her_ duty. Remember, that her +reputation, her future happiness, may fall a sacrifice to this foolish +conduct, which, I regret to say, is very generally known in the +neighbourhood. Forgive me if I express my opinion too freely; but I +cannot help thinking, that if Mr. Arundel's intentions had been +strictly honourable, he would have written to you before this, to tell +you that his search for the missing girl had failed; or, in the event +of his finding her, he would have taken the earliest opportunity of +bringing her back to her own home. My poor cousin's somewhat +unprotected position, her wealth, and her inexperience of the world, +place her at the mercy of a fortune-hunter; and Mr. Arundel has himself +to thank if his conduct gives rise to the belief that he wishes to +compromise this girl in the eyes of the scandalous, and thus make sure +of your consent to a marriage which would give him command of my +cousin's fortune." + +Olivia Marchmont's bosom heaved with the stormy beating of her heart. +Was she to sit calmly by and hold her peace while this man slandered +the brave young soldier, the bold, reckless, generous-hearted lad, who +had shone upon her out of the darkness of her life, as the very +incarnation of all that is noble and admirable in mankind? Was she to +sit quietly by and hear a stranger lie away her kinsman's honour, +truth, and manhood? + +Yes, she must do so. This man had offered her a price for her truth and +her soul. He was ready to help her to the revenge she longed for. He +was ready to give her his aid in separating the innocent young lovers, +whose pure affection had poisoned her life, whose happiness was worse +than the worst death to her. She kept silent, therefore, and waited for +Paul to speak again. + +"I will go up to Town to-morrow, and set to work about this business," +the artist said, as he rose to take leave of Mrs. Marchmont. "I do not +believe that I shall have much difficulty in finding the young lady's +hiding-place. My first task shall be to look for Mr. Arundel. You can +perhaps give me the address of some place in London where your cousin +is in the habit of staying?" + +"I can." + +"Thank you; that will very much simplify matters. I shall write you +immediate word of any discovery I make, and will then leave all the +rest to you. My influence over Mary Marchmont as an entire stranger +could be nothing. Yours, on the contrary, must be unbounded. It will be +for you to act upon my letter." + + * * * * * + +Olivia Marchmont waited for two days and nights for the promised +letter. Upon the third morning it came. The artist's epistle was very +brief: + +"MY DEAR MRS. MARCHMONT,--I have made the necessary discovery. Miss +Marchmont is to be found at the White Hart Inn, Milldale, near +Winchester. May I venture to urge your proceeding there in search of +her without delay? + +"Yours very faithfully, + +"PAUL MARCHMONT. + +"_Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square,_ +"_Aug._ 15_th_." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +RISEN FROM THE GRAVE. + + +The rain dripped ceaselessly upon the dreary earth under a grey +November sky,--a dull and lowering sky, that seemed to brood over this +lower world with some menace of coming down to blot out and destroy it. +The express-train, rushing headlong across the wet flats of +Lincolnshire, glared like a meteor in the gray fog; the dismal shriek +of the engine was like the cry of a bird of prey. The few passengers +who had chosen that dreary winter's day for their travels looked +despondently out at the monotonous prospect, seeking in vain to descry +some spot of hope in the joyless prospect; or made futile attempts to +read their newspapers by the dim light of the lamp in the roof of the +carriage. Sulky passengers shuddered savagely as they wrapped +themselves in huge woollen rugs or ponderous coverings made from the +skins of wild beasts. Melancholy passengers drew grotesque and hideous +travelling-caps over their brows, and, coiling themselves in the corner +of their seats, essayed to sleep away the weary hours. Everything upon +this earth seemed dismal and damp, cold and desolate, incongruous and +uncomfortable. + +But there was one first-class passenger in that Lincolnshire express +who made himself especially obnoxious to his fellows by the display of +an amount of restlessness and superabundant energy quite out of keeping +with the lazy despondency of those about him. + +This was a young man with a long tawny beard and a white face,--a very +handsome face, though wan and attenuated, as if with some terrible +sickness, and somewhat disfigured by certain strappings of plaister, +which were bound about a patch of his skull a little above the left +temple. This young man had one side of the carriage to himself; and a +sort of bed had been made up for him with extra cushions, upon which he +lay at full length, when he was still, which was never for very long +together. He was enveloped almost to the chin in voluminous +railway-rugs, but, in spite of these coverings, shuddered every now and +then, as if with cold. He had a pocket-pistol amongst his travelling +paraphernalia, which he applied occasionally to his dry lips. Sometimes +drops of perspiration broke suddenly out upon his forehead, and were +brushed away by a tremulous hand, that was scarcely strong enough to +hold a cambric handkerchief. In short, it was sufficiently obvious to +every one that this young man with the tawny beard had only lately +risen from a sick-bed, and had risen therefrom considerably before the +time at which any prudent medical practitioner would have given him +licence to do so. + +It was evident that he was very, very ill, but that he was, if +anything, more ill at ease in mind than in body; and that some terrible +gnawing anxiety, some restless care, some horrible uncertainty or +perpetual foreboding of trouble, would not allow him to be at peace. It +was as much as the three fellow-passengers who sat opposite to him +could do to bear with his impatience, his restlessness, his short +half-stifled moans, his long weary sighs; the horror of his fidgety +feet shuffled incessantly upon the cushions; the suddenly convulsive +jerks with which he would lift himself upon his elbow to stare fiercely +into the dismal fog outside the carriage window; the groans that were +wrung from him as he flung himself into new and painful positions; the +frightful aspect of physical agony which came over his face as he +looked at his watch,--and he drew out and consulted that ill-used +chronometer, upon an average, once in a quarter of an hour; his +impatient crumpling of the crisp leaves of a new "Bradshaw," which he +turned over ever and anon, as if, by perpetual reference to that +mysterious time-table, he might hasten the advent of the hour at which +he was to reach his destination. He was, altogether, a most aggravating +and exasperating travelling companion; and it was only out of Christian +forbearance with the weakness of his physical state that his irritated +fellow-passengers refrained from uniting themselves against him, and +casting him bodily out of the window of the carriage; as a clown +sometimes flings a venerable but tiresome pantaloon through a square +trap or pitfall, lurking, undreamed of, in the façade of an honest +tradesman's dwelling. + +The three passengers had, in divers manners, expressed their sympathy +with the invalid traveller; but their courtesies had not been responded +to with any evidence of gratitude or heartiness. The young man had +answered his companions in an absent fashion, scarcely deigning to look +at them as he spoke;--speaking altogether with the air of some +sleep-walker, who roams hither and thither absorbed in a dreadful +dream, making a world for himself, and peopling it with horrible images +unknown to those about him. + +Had he been ill?--Yes, very ill. He had had a railway accident, and +then brain-fever. He had been ill for a long time. + +Somebody asked him how long. + +He shuffled about upon the cushions, and groaned aloud at this +question, to the alarm of the man who had asked it. + +"How long?" he cried, in a fierce agony of mental or bodily +uneasiness;--"how long? Two months,--three months,--ever since the 15th +of August." + +Then another passenger, looking at the young man's very evident +sufferings from a commercial point of view, asked him whether he had +had any compensation. + +"Compensation!" cried the invalid. "What compensation?" + +"Compensation from the Railway Company. I hope you've a strong case +against them, for you've evidently been a terrible sufferer." + +It was dreadful to see the way in which the sick man writhed under this +question. + +"Compensation!" he cried. "What compensation can they give me for an +accident that shut me in a living grave for three months, that +separated me from----? You don't know what you're talking about, sir," +he added suddenly; "I can't think of this business patiently; I can't +be reasonable. If they'd hacked _me_ to pieces, I shouldn't have cared. +I've been under a red-hot Indian sun, when we fellows couldn't see the +sky above us for the smoke of the cannons and the flashing of the +sabres about our heads, and I'm not afraid of a little cutting and +smashing more or less; but when I think what others may have suffered +through----I'm almost mad, and----!" + +He couldn't say any more, for the intensity of his passion had shaken +him as a leaf is shaken by a whirlwind; and he fell back upon the +cushions, trembling in every limb, and groaning aloud. His +fellow-passengers looked at each other rather nervously, and two out of +the three entertained serious thoughts of changing carriages when the +express stopped midway between London and Lincoln. + +But they were reassured by-and-by; for the invalid, who was Captain +Edward Arundel, or that pale shadow of the dashing young cavalry +officer which had risen from a sick-bed, relapsed into silence, and +displayed no more alarming symptoms than that perpetual restlessness +and disquietude which is cruelly wearying even to the strongest nerves. +He only spoke once more, and that was when the short day, in which +there had been no actual daylight, was closing in, and the journey +nearly finished, when he startled his companions by crying out +suddenly,-- + +"O my God! will this journey never come to an end? Shall I never be put +out of this horrible suspense?" + +The journey, or at any rate Captain Arundel's share of it, came to an +end almost immediately afterwards, for the train stopped at +Swampington; and while the invalid was staggering feebly to his feet, +eager to scramble out of the carriage, his servant came to the door to +assist and support him. + +"You seem to have borne the journey wonderful, sir," the man said +respectfully, as he tried to rearrange his master's wrappings, and to +do as much as circumstances, and the young man's restless impatience, +would allow of being done for his comfort. + +"I have suffered the tortures of the infernal regions, Morrison," +Captain Arundel ejaculated, in answer to his attendant's congratulatory +address. "Get me a fly directly; I must go to the Towers at once." + +"Not to-night, sir, surely?" the servant remonstrated, in a tone of +alarm. "Your Mar and the doctors said you _must_ rest at Swampington +for a night." + +"I'll rest nowhere till I've been to Marchmont Towers," answered the +young soldier passionately. "If I must walk there,--if I'm to drop down +dead on the road,--I'll go. If the cornfields between this and the +Towers were a blazing prairie or a raging sea, I'd go. Get me a fly, +man; and don't talk to me of my mother or the doctors. I'm going to +look for my wife. Get me a fly." + +This demand for a commonplace hackney vehicle sounded rather like an +anti-climax, after the young man's talk of blazing prairies and raging +seas; but passionate reality has no ridiculous side, and Edward +Arundel's most foolish words were sublime by reason of their +earnestness. + +"Get me a fly, Morrison," he said, grinding his heel upon the platform +in the intensity of his impatience. "Or, stay; we should gain more in +the end if you were to go to the George--it's not ten minutes' walk +from here; one of the porters will take you--the people there know me, +and they'll let you have some vehicle, with a pair of horses and a +clever driver. Tell them it's for an errand of life and death, and that +Captain Arundel will pay them three times their usual price, or six +times, if they wish. Tell them anything, so long as you get what we +want." + +The valet, an old servant of Edward Arundel's father, was carried away +by the young man's mad impetuosity. The vitality of this broken-down +invalid, whose physical weakness contrasted strangely with his mental +energy, bore down upon the grave man-servant like an avalanche, and +carried him whither it would. He was fain to abandon all hope of being +true to the promises which he had given to Mrs. Arundel and the medical +men, and to yield himself to the will of the fiery young soldier. + +He left Edward Arundel sitting upon a chair in the solitary +waiting-room, and hurried after the porter who had volunteered to show +him the way to the George Inn, the most prosperous hotel in +Swampington. + +The valet had good reason to be astonished by his young master's energy +and determination; for Mary Marchmont's husband was as one rescued from +the very jaws of death. For eleven weeks after that terrible concussion +upon the South-Western Railway, Edward Arundel had lain in a state of +coma,--helpless, mindless; all the story of his life blotted away, and +his brain transformed into as blank a page as if he had been an infant +lying on his mother's knees. A fractured skull had been the young +Captain's chief share in those injuries which were dealt out pretty +freely to the travellers in the Exeter mail on the 15th of August; and +the young man had been conveyed to Dangerfield Park, whilst his +father's corpse lay in stately solemnity in one of the chief rooms, +almost as much a corpse as that dead father. + +Mrs. Arundel's troubles had come, as the troubles of rich and +prosperous people often do come, in a sudden avalanche, that threatened +to overwhelm the tender-hearted matron. She had been summoned from +Germany to attend her husband's deathbed; and she was called away from +her faithful watch beside that deathbed, to hear tidings of the +accident that had befallen her younger son. + +Neither the Dorsetshire doctor who attended the stricken traveller upon +his homeward journey, and brought the strong man, helpless as a child, +to claim the same tender devotion that had watched over his infancy, +nor the Devonshire doctors who were summoned to Dangerfield, gave any +hope of their patient's recovery. The sufferer might linger for years, +they said; but his existence would be only a living death, a horrible +blank, which it was a cruelty to wish prolonged. But when a great +London surgeon appeared upon the scene, a new light, a wonderful gleam +of hope, shone in upon the blackness of the mother's despair. + +This great London surgeon, who was a very unassuming and matter-of-fact +little man, and who seemed in a great hurry to earn his fee and run +back to Saville Row by the next express, made a brief examination of +the patient, asked a very few sharp and trenchant questions of the +reverential provincial medical practitioners, and then declared that +the chief cause of Edward Arundel's state lay in the fact that a +portion of the skull was depressed,--a splinter pressed upon the brain. + +The provincial practitioners opened their eyes very wide; and one of +them ventured to mutter something to the effect that he had thought as +much for a long time. The London surgeon further stated, that until the +pressure was removed from the patient's brain, Captain Edward Arundel +would remain in precisely the same state as that into which he had +fallen immediately upon the accident. The splinter could only be +removed by a very critical operation, and this operation must be +deferred until the patient's bodily strength was in some measure +restored. + +The surgeon gave brief but decisive directions to the provincial +medical men as to the treatment of their patient during this +interregnum, and then departed, after promising to return as soon as +Captain Arundel was in a fit state for the operation. This period did +not arrive till the first week in November, when the Devonshire doctors +ventured to declare their patient's shattered frame in a great measure +renovated by their devoted attention, and the tender care of the best +of mothers. + +The great surgeon came. The critical operation was performed, with such +eminent success as to merit a very long description, which afterwards +appeared in the _Lancet_; and slowly, like the gradual lifting of a +curtain, the black shadows passed away from Edward Arundel's mind, and +the memory of the past returned to him. + +It was then that he raved madly about his young wife, perpetually +demanding that she might be summoned to him; continually declaring that +some great misfortune would befall her if she were not brought to his +side, that, even in his feebleness, he might defend and protect her. +His mother mistook his vehemence for the raving of delirium. The +doctors fell into the same error, and treated him for brain-fever. It +was only when the young soldier demonstrated to them that he could, by +making an effort over himself, be as reasonable as they were, that he +convinced them of their mistake. Then he begged to be left alone with +his mother; and, with his feverish hands clasped in hers, asked her the +meaning of her black dress, and the reason why his young wife had not +come to him. He learned that his mother's mourning garments were worn +in memory of his dead father. He learned also, after much bewilderment +and passionate questioning, that no tidings of Mary Marchmont had ever +come to Dangerfield. + +It was then that the young man told his mother the story of his +marriage: how that marriage had been contracted in haste, but with no +real desire for secrecy; how he had, out of mere idleness, put off +writing to his friends until that last fatal night; and how, at the +very moment when the pen was in his hand and the paper spread out +before him, the different claims of a double duty had torn him asunder, +and he had been summoned from the companionship of his bride to the +deathbed of his father. + +Mrs. Arundel tried in vain to set her son's mind at rest upon the +subject of his wife's silence. + +"No, mother!" he cried; "it is useless talking to me. You don't know my +poor darling. She has the courage of a heroine, as well as the +simplicity of a child. There has been some foul play at the bottom of +this; it is treachery that has kept my wife from me. She would have +come here on foot, had she been free to come. I know whose hand is in +this business. Olivia Marchmont has kept my poor girl a prisoner; +Olivia Marchmont has set herself between me and my darling!" + +"But you don't know this, Edward. I'll write to Mr. Paulette; he will +be able to tell us what has happened." + +The young man writhed in a sudden paroxysm of mental agony. + +"Write to Mr. Paulette!" he exclaimed. "No, mother; there shall be no +delay, no waiting for return-posts. That sort of torture would kill me +in a few hours. No, mother; I will go to my wife by the first train +that will take me on my way to Lincolnshire." + +"You will go! You, Edward! in your state!" + +There was a terrible outburst of remonstrance and entreaty on the part +of the poor mother. Mrs. Arundel went down upon her knees before her +son, imploring him not to leave Dangerfield till his strength was +recovered; imploring him to let her telegraph a summons to Richard +Paulette; to let her go herself to Marchmont Towers in search of Mary; +to do anything rather than carry out the one mad purpose that he was +bent on,--the purpose of going himself to look for his wife. + +The mother's tears and prayers were vain; no adamant was ever firmer +than the young soldier. + +"She is my wife, mother," he said; "I have sworn to protect and cherish +her; and I have reason to think she has fallen into merciless hands. If +I die upon the road, I must go to her. It is not a case in which I can +do my duty by proxy. Every moment I delay is a wrong to that poor +helpless girl. Be reasonable, dear mother, I implore you; I should +suffer fifty times more by the torture of suspense if I stayed here, +than I can possibly suffer in a railroad journey from here to +Lincolnshire." + +The soldier's strong will triumphed over every opposition. The +provincial doctors held up their hands, and protested against the +madness of their patient; but without avail. All that either Mrs. +Arundel or the doctors could do, was to make such preparations and +arrangements as would render the weary journey easier; and it was under +the mother's superintendence that the air-cushions, the brandy-flasks, +the hartshorn, sal-volatile, and railway-rugs, had been provided for +the Captain's comfort. + +It was thus that, after a blank interval of three months, Edward +Arundel, like some creature newly risen from the grave, returned to +Swampington, upon his way to Marchmont Towers. + +The delay seemed endless to this restless passenger, sitting in the +empty waiting-room of the quiet Lincolnshire station, though the ostler +and stable-boys at the "George" were bestirring themselves with +good-will, urged on by Mr. Morrison's promises of liberal reward for +their trouble, and though the man who was to drive the carriage lost no +time in arraying himself for the journey. Captain Arundel looked at his +watch three times while he sat in that dreary Swampington waiting-room. +There was a clock over the mantelpiece, but he would not trust to that. + +"Eight o'clock!" he muttered. "It will be ten before I get to the +Towers, if the carriage doesn't come directly." + +He got up, and walked from the waiting-room to the platform, and from +the platform to the door of the station. He was so weak as to be +obliged to support himself with his stick; and even with that help he +tottered and reeled sometimes like a drunken man. But, in his eager +impatience, he was almost unconscious of his own weakness. + +"Will it never come?" he muttered. "Will it never come?" + +At last, after an intolerable delay, as it seemed to the young man, the +carriage-and-pair from the George Inn rattled up to the door of the +station, with Mr. Morrison upon the box, and a postillion loosely +balanced upon one of the long-legged, long-backed, bony grey horses. +Edward Arundel got into the vehicle before his valet could alight to +assist him. + +"Marchmont Towers!" he cried to the postillion; "and a five-pound note +if you get there in less than an hour." + +He flung some money to the officials who had gathered about the door to +witness his departure, and who had eagerly pressed forward to render +him that assistance which, even in his weakness, he disdained. + +These men looked gravely at each other as the carriage dashed off into +the fog, blundering and reeling as it went along the narrow half-made +road, that led from the desert patch of waste ground upon which the +station was built into the high-street of Swampington. + +"Marchmont Towers!" said one of the men, in a tone that seemed to imply +that there was something ominous even in the name of the Lincolnshire +mansion. "What does _he_ want at Marchmont Towers, I wonder?" + +"Why, don't you know who he is, mate?" responded the other man, +contemptuously. + +"No." + +"He's Parson Arundel's nevy,--the young officer that some folks said +ran away with the poor young miss oop at the Towers." + +"My word! is he now? Why, I shouldn't ha' known him." + +"No; he's a'most like the ghost of what he was, poor young chap. I've +heerd as he was in that accident as happened last August on the +Sou'-Western." + +The railway official shrugged his shoulders. + +"It's all a queer story," he said. "I can't make out naught about it; +but I know _I_ shouldn't care to go up to the Towers after dark." + +Marchmont Towers had evidently fallen into rather evil repute amongst +these simple Lincolnshire people. + + * * * * * + +The carriage in which Edward Arundel rode was a superannuated old +chariot, whose uneasy springs rattled and shook the sick man to pieces. +He groaned aloud every now and then from sheer physical agony; and yet +I almost doubt if he knew that he suffered, so superior in its +intensity was the pain of his mind to every bodily torture. Whatever +consciousness he had of his racked and aching limbs was as nothing in +comparison to the racking anguish of suspense, the intolerable agony of +anxiety, which seemed multiplied by every moment. He sat with his face +turned towards the open window of the carriage, looking out steadily +into the night. There was nothing before him but a blank darkness and +thick fog, and a flat country blotted out by the falling rain; but he +strained his eyes until the pupils dilated painfully, in his desire to +recognise some landmark in the hidden prospect. + +"_When_ shall I get there?" he cried aloud, in a paroxysm of rage and +grief. "My own one, my pretty one, my wife, when shall I get to you?" + +He clenched his thin hands until the nails cut into his flesh. He +stamped upon the floor of the carriage. He cursed the rusty, creaking +springs, the slow-footed horses, the pools of water through which the +wretched animals floundered pastern-deep. He cursed the darkness of the +night, the stupidity of the postillion, the length of the +way,--everything, and anything, that kept him back from the end which +he wanted to reach. + +At last the end came. The carriage drew up before the tall iron gates, +behind which stretched, dreary and desolate as some patch of +common-land, that melancholy waste which was called a park. + +A light burned dimly in the lower window of the lodge,--a little spot +that twinkled faintly red and luminous through the darkness and the +rain; but the iron gates were as closely shut as if Marchmont Towers +had been a prison-house. Edward Arundel was in no humour to linger long +for the opening of those gates. He sprang from the carriage, reckless +of the weakness of his cramped limbs, before the valet could descend +from the rickety box-seat, or the postillion could get off his horse, +and shook the wet and rusty iron bars with his own wasted hands. The +gates rattled, but resisted the concussion; they had evidently been +locked for the night. The young man seized an iron ring, dangling at +the end of a chain, which hung beside one of the stone pillars, and +rang a peal that resounded like an alarm-signal through the darkness. A +fierce watchdog far away in the distance howled dismally at the +summons, and the dissonant shriek of a peacock sounded across the flat. + +The door of the lodge was opened about five minutes after the bell had +rung, and an old man peered out into the night, holding a candle shaded +by his feeble hand, and looking suspiciously towards the gate. + +"Who is it?" he said. + +"It is I, Captain Arundel. Open the gate, please." + +The man, who was very old, and whose intellect seemed to have grown as +dim and foggy as the night itself, reflected for a few moments, and +then mumbled,-- + +"Cap'en Arundel! Ay, to be sure, to be sure. Parson Arundel's nevy; ay, +ay." + +He went back into the lodge, to the disgust and aggravation of the +young soldier, who rattled fiercely at the gate once more in his +impatience. But the old man emerged presently, as tranquil as if the +blank November night had been some sunshiny noontide in July, carrying +a lantern and a bunch of keys, one of which he proceeded in a leisurely +manner to apply to the great lock of the gate. + +"Let me in!" cried Edward Arundel. "Man alive! do you think I came down +here to stand all night staring through these iron bars? Is Marchmont +Towers a prison, that you shut your gates as if they were never to be +opened until the Day of Judgment?" + +The old man responded with a feeble, chirpy laugh, an audible grin, +senile and conciliatory. + +"We've no need to keep t' geates open arter dark," he said; "folk +doan't coome to the Toowers arter dark." + +He had succeeded by this time in turning the key in the lock; one of +the gates rolled slowly back upon its rusty hinges, creaking and +groaning as if in hoarse protest against all visitors to the Towers; +and Edward Arundel entered the dreary domain which John Marchmont had +inherited from his kinsman. + +The postillion turned his horses from the highroad without the gates +into the broad drive leading up to the mansion. Far away, across the +wet flats, the broad western front of that gaunt stone dwelling-place +frowned upon the travellers, its black grimness only relieved by two or +three dim red patches, that told of lighted windows and human +habitation. It was rather difficult to associate friendly flesh and +blood with Marchmont Towers on this dark November night. The nervous +traveller would have rather expected to find diabolical denizens +lurking within those black and stony walls; hideous enchantments +beneath that rain-bespattered roof; weird and incarnate horrors +brooding by deserted hearths, and fearful shrieks of souls in perpetual +pain breaking upon the stillness of the night. + +Edward Arundel had no thought of these things. He knew that the place +was darksome and gloomy, and that, in very spite of himself, he had +always been unpleasantly impressed by it; but he knew nothing more. He +only wanted to reach the house without delay, and to ask for the young +wife whom he had parted with upon a balmy August evening three months +before. He wanted this passionately, almost madly; and every moment +made his impatience wilder, his anxiety more intense. It seemed as if +all the journey from Dangerfield Park to Lincolnshire was as nothing +compared to the space that still lay between him and Marchmont Towers. + +"We've done it in double-quick time, sir," the postillion said, +complacently pointing to the steaming sides of his horses. "Master'll +gie it to me for driving the beasts like this." + +Edward Arundel looked at the panting animals. They had brought him +quickly, then, though the way had seemed so long. + +"You shall have a five-pound note, my lad," he said, "if you get me up +to yonder house in five minutes." + +He had his hand upon the door of the carriage, and was leaning against +it for support, while he tried to recover enough strength with which to +clamber into the vehicle, when his eye was caught by some white object +flapping in the rain against the stone pillar of the gate, and made +dimly visible in a flickering patch of light from the lodge-keeper's +lantern. + +"What's that?" he cried, pointing to this white spot upon the +moss-grown stone. + +The old man slowly raised his eyes to the spot towards which the +soldier's finger pointed. + +"That?" he mumbled. "Ay, to be sure, to be sure. Poor young lady! +That's the printed bill as they stook oop. It's the printed bill, to be +sure, to be sure. I'd a'most forgot it. It ain't been much good, +anyhow; and I'd a'most forgot it." + +"The printed bill! the young lady!" gasped Edward Arundel, in a hoarse, +choking voice. + +He snatched the lantern from the lodge-keeper's hand with a force that +sent the old man reeling and tottering several paces backward; and, +rushing to the stone pillar, held the light up above his head, on a +level with the white placard which had attracted his notice. It was +damp and dilapidated at the edges; but that which was printed upon it +was as visible to the soldier as though each commonplace character had +been a fiery sign inscribed upon a blazing scroll. + +This was the announcement which Edward Arundel read upon the gate-post +of Marchmont Towers:-- + +"ONE HUNDRED POUNDS REWARD.--Whereas Miss Mary Marchmont left her home +on Wednesday last, October 17th, and has not since been heard of, this +is to give notice that the above reward will be given to any one who +shall afford such information as will lead to her recovery if she be +alive, or to the discovery of her body if she be dead. The missing +young lady is eighteen years of age, rather below the middle height, of +fair complexion, light-brown hair, and hazel eyes. When she left her +home, she had on a grey silk dress, grey shawl, and straw bonnet. She +was last seen near the river-side upon the afternoon of Wednesday, the +17th instant. +"_Marchmont Towers, October_ 20_th_, 1848." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +FACE TO FACE. + + +It is not easy to imagine a lion-hearted young cavalry officer, whose +soldiership in the Punjaub had won the praises of a Napier and an +Outram, fainting away like a heroine of romance at the coming of evil +tidings; but Edward Arundel, who had risen from a sick-bed to take a +long and fatiguing journey in utter defiance of the doctors, was not +strong enough to bear the dreadful welcome that greeted him upon the +gate-post at Marchmont Towers. + +He staggered, and would have fallen, had not the extended arms of his +father's confidential servant been luckily opened to receive and +support him. But he did not lose his senses. + +"Get me into the carriage, Morrison," he cried. "Get me up to that +house. They've tortured and tormented my wife while I've been lying +like a log on my bed at Dangerfield. For God's sake, get me up there as +quick as you can!" + +Mr. Morrison had read the placard on the gate across his young master's +shoulder. He lifted the Captain into the carriage, shouted to the +postillion to drive on, and took his seat by the young man's side. + +"Begging you pardon, Mr. Edward," he said, gently; "but the young lady +may be found by this time. That bill's been sticking there for upwards +of a month, you see, sir, and it isn't likely but what Miss Marchmont +has been found between that time and this." + +The invalid passed his hand across his forehead, down which the cold +sweat rolled in great beads. + +"Give me some brandy," he whispered; "pour some brandy down my throat, +Morrison, if you've any compassion upon me; I must get strength somehow +for the struggle that lies before me." + +The valet took a wicker-covered flask from his pocket, and put the neck +of it to Edward Arundel's lips. + +"She may be found, Morrison," muttered the young man, after drinking a +long draught of the fiery spirit; he would willingly have drunk living +fire itself, in his desire to obtain unnatural strength in this crisis. +"Yes; you're right there. She may be found. But to think that she +should have been driven away! To think that my poor, helpless, tender +girl should have been driven a second time from the home that is her +own! Yes; her own by every law and every right. Oh, the relentless +devil, the pitiless devil!--what can be the motive of her conduct? Is +it madness, or the infernal cruelty of a fiend incarnate?" + +Mr. Morrison thought that his young master's brain had been disordered +by the shock he had just undergone, and that this wild talk was mere +delirium. + +"Keep your heart up, Mr. Edward," he murmured, soothingly; "you may +rely upon it, the young lady has been found." + +But Edward was in no mind to listen to any mild consolatory remarks +from his valet. He had thrust his head out of the carriage-window, and +his eyes were fixed upon the dimly-lighted casements of the western +drawing-room. + +"The room in which John and Polly and I used to sit together when first +I came from India," he murmured. "How happy we were!--how happy we +were!" + +The carriage stopped before the stone portico, and the young man got +out once more, assisted by his servant. His breath came short and quick +now that he stood upon the threshold. He pushed aside the servant who +opened the familiar door at the summons of the clanging bell, and +strode into the hall. A fire burned on the wide hearth; but the +atmosphere of the great stone-paved chamber was damp and chilly. + +Captain Arundel walked straight to the door of the western +drawing-room. It was there that he had seen lights in the windows; it +was there that he expected to find Olivia Marchmont. + +He was not mistaken. A shaded lamp burnt dimly on a table near the +fire. There was a low invalid-chair beside this table, an open book +upon the floor, and an Indian shawl, one he had sent to his cousin, +flung carelessly upon the pillows. The neglected fire burned low in the +old-fashioned grate, and above the dull-red blaze stood the figure of a +woman, tall, dark, and gloomy of aspect. + +It was Olivia Marchmont, in the mourning-robes that she had worn, with +but one brief intermission, ever since her husband's death. Her profile +was turned towards the door by which Edward Arundel entered the room; +her eyes were bent steadily upon the low heap of burning ashes in the +grate. Even in that doubtful light the young man could see that her +features were sharpened, and that a settled frown had contracted her +straight black brows. + +In her fixed attitude, in her air of deathlike tranquillity, this woman +resembled some sinful vestal sister, set, against her will, to watch a +sacred fire, and brooding moodily over her crimes. + +She did not hear the opening of the door; she had not even heard the +trampling of the horses' hoofs, or the crashing of the wheels upon the +gravel before the house. There were times when her sense of external +things was, as it were, suspended and absorbed in the intensity of her +obstinate despair. + +"Olivia!" said the soldier. + +Mrs. Marchmont looked up at the sound of that accusing voice, for there +was something in Edward Arundel's simple enunciation of her name which +seemed like an accusation or a menace. She looked up, with a great +terror in her face, and stared aghast at her unexpected visitor. Her +white cheeks, her trembling lips, and dilated eyes could not have more +palpably expressed a great and absorbing horror, had the young man +standing quietly before her been a corpse newly risen from its grave. + +"Olivia Marchmont," said Captain Arundel, after a brief pause, "I have +come here to look for my wife." + +The woman pushed her trembling hands across her forehead, brushing the +dead black hair from her temples, and still staring with the same +unutterable horror at the face of her cousin. Several times she tried +to speak; but the broken syllables died away in her throat in hoarse, +inarticulate mutterings. At last, with a great effort, the words came. + +"I--I--never expected to see you," she said; "I heard that you were +very ill; I heard that you----" + +"You heard that I was dying," interrupted Edward Arundel; "or that, if +I lived, I should drag out the rest of my existence in hopeless idiocy. +The doctors thought as much a week ago, when one of them, cleverer than +the rest I suppose, had the courage to perform an operation that +restored me to consciousness. Sense and memory came back to me by +degrees. The thick veil that had shrouded the past was rent asunder; +and the first image that came to me was the image of my young wife, as +I had seen her upon the night of our parting. For more than three +months I had been dead. I was suddenly restored to life. I asked those +about me to give me tidings of my wife. Had she sought me out?--had she +followed me to Dangerfield? No! They could tell me nothing. They +thought that I was delirious, and tried to soothe me with compassionate +speeches, merciful falsehoods, promising me that I should see my +darling. But I soon read the secret of their scared looks. I saw pity +and wonder mingled in my mother's face, and I entreated her to be +merciful to me, and to tell me the truth. She had compassion upon me, +and told me all she knew, which was very little. She had never heard +from my wife. She had never heard of any marriage between Mary +Marchmont and me. The only communication which she had received from +any of her Lincolnshire relations had been a letter from my uncle +Hubert, in reply to one of hers telling him of my hopeless state. + +"This was the shock that fell upon me when life and memory came back. I +could not bear the imprisonment of a sick-bed. I felt that for the +second time I must go out into the world to look for my darling; and in +defiance of the doctors, in defiance of my poor mother, who thought +that my departure from Dangerfield was a suicide, I am here. It is here +that I come first to seek for my wife. I might have stopped in London +to see Richard Paulette; I might sooner have gained tidings of my +darling. But I came here; I came here without stopping by the way, +because an uncontrollable instinct and an unreasoning impulse tells me +that it is here I ought to seek her. I am here, her husband, her only +true and legitimate defender; and woe be to those who stand between me +and my wife!" + +He had spoken rapidly in his passion; and he stopped, exhausted by his +own vehemence, and sank heavily into a chair near the lamplit table. + +Then for the first time that night Olivia Marchmont plainly saw her +cousin's face, and saw the terrible change that had transformed the +handsome young soldier, since the bright August morning on which he had +gone forth from Marchmont Towers. She saw the traces of a long and +wearisome illness sadly visible in his waxen-hued complexion, his +hollow cheeks, the faded lustre of his eyes, his dry and pallid lips. +She saw all this, the woman whose one great sin had been to love this +man wickedly and madly, in spite of her better self, in spite of her +womanly pride; she saw the change in him that had altered him from a +young Apollo to a shattered and broken invalid. And did any revulsion +of feeling arise in her breast? Did any corresponding transformation in +her own heart bear witness to the baseness of her love? + +No; a thousand times, no! There was no thrill of disgust, how transient +soever; not so much as one passing shudder of painful surprise, one +pang of womanly regret. No! In place of these, a passionate yearning +arose in this woman's haughty soul; a flood of sudden tenderness rushed +across the black darkness of her mind. She fain would have flung +herself upon her knees, in loving self-abasement, at the sick man's +feet. She fain would have cried aloud, amid a tempest of passionate +sobs,-- + +"O my love, my love! you are dearer to me a hundred times by this cruel +change. It was _not_ your bright-blue eyes and waving chestnut +hair,--it was not your handsome face, your brave, soldier-like bearing +that I loved. My love was not so base as that. I inflicted a cruel +outrage upon myself when I thought that I was the weak fool of a +handsome face. Whatever _I_ have been, my love, at least, has been +pure. My love is pure, though I am base. I will never slander that +again, for I know now that it is immortal." + +In the sudden rush of that flood-tide of love and tenderness, all these +thoughts welled into Olivia Marchmont's mind. In all her sin and +desperation she had never been so true a woman as now; she had never, +perhaps, been so near being a good woman. But the tender emotion was +swept out of her breast the next moment by the first words of Edward +Arundel. + +"Why do you not answer my question?" he said. + +She drew herself up in the erect and rigid attitude that had become +almost habitual to her. Every trace of womanly feeling faded out of her +face, as the sunlight disappears behind the sudden darkness of a +thundercloud. + +"What question?" she asked, with icy indifference. + +"The question I have come to Lincolnshire to ask--the question I have +perilled my life, perhaps, to ask," cried the young man. "Where is my +wife?" + +The widow turned upon him with a horrible smile. + +"I never heard that you were married," she said. "Who is your wife?" + +"Mary Marchmont, the mistress of this house." + +Olivia opened her eyes, and looked at him in half-sardonic surprise. + +"Then it was not a fable?" she said. + +"What was not a fable?" + +"The unhappy girl spoke the truth when she said that you had married +her at some out-of-the-way church in Lambeth." + +"The truth! Yes!" cried Edward Arundel. "Who should dare to say that +she spoke other than the truth? Who should dare to disbelieve her?" + +Olivia Marchmont smiled again,--that same strange smile which was +almost too horrible for humanity, and yet had a certain dark and gloomy +grandeur of its own. Satan, the star of the morning, may have so smiled +despairing defiance upon the Archangel Michael. + +"Unfortunately," she said, "no one believed the poor child. Her story +was such a very absurd one, and she could bring forward no shred of +evidence in support of it." + +"O my God!" ejaculated Edward Arundel, clasping his hands above his +head in a paroxysm of rage and despair. "I see it all--I see it all! My +darling has been tortured to death. Woman!" he cried, "are you +possessed by a thousand fiends? Is there no one sentiment of womanly +compassion left in your breast? If there is one spark of womanhood in +your nature, I appeal to that; I ask you what has happened to my wife?" + +"My wife! my wife!" The reiteration of that familiar phrase was to +Olivia Marchmont like the perpetual thrust of a dagger aimed at an open +wound. It struck every time upon the same tortured spot, and inflicted +the same agony. + +"The placard upon the gates of this place can tell you as much as I +can," she said. + +The ghastly whiteness of the soldier's face told her that he had seen +the placard of which she spoke. + +"She has not been found, then?" he said, hoarsely. + +"No." + +"How did she disappear?" + +"As she disappeared upon the morning on which you followed her. She +wandered out of the house, this time leaving no letter, nor message, +nor explanation of any kind whatever. It was in the middle of the day +that she went out; and for some time her absence caused no alarm. But, +after some hours, she was waited for and watched for very anxiously. +Then a search was made." + +"Where?" + +"Wherever she had at any time been in the habit of walking,--in the +park; in the wood; along the narrow path by the water; at Pollard's +farm; at Hester's house at Kemberling,--in every place where it might +be reasonably imagined there was the slightest chance of finding her." + +"And all this was without result?" + +"It was." + +"_Why_ did she leave this place? God help you, Olivia Marchmont, if it +was your cruelty that drove her away!" + +The widow took no notice of the threat implied in these words. Was +there anything upon earth that she feared now? No--nothing. Had she not +endured the worst long ago, in Edward Arundel's contempt? She had no +fear of a battle with this man; or with any other creature in the +world; or with the whole world arrayed and banded together against her, +if need were. Amongst all the torments of those black depths to which +her soul had gone down, there was no such thing as fear. That cowardly +baseness is for the happy and prosperous, who have something to lose. +This woman was by nature dauntless and resolute as the hero of some +classic story; but in her despair she had the desperate and reckless +courage of a starving wolf. The hand of death was upon her; what could +it matter how she died? + +"I am very grateful to you, Edward Arundel," she said, bitterly, "for +the good opinion you have always had of me. The blood of the +Dangerfield Arundels must have had some drop of poison intermingled +with it, I should think, before it could produce so vile a creature as +myself; and yet I have heard people say that my mother was a good +woman." + +The young man writhed impatiently beneath the torture of his cousin's +deliberate speech. Was there to be no end to this unendurable delay? +Even now,--now that he was in this house, face to face with the woman +he had come to question--it seemed as if he _could_ not get tidings of +his wife. + +So, often in his dreams, he had headed a besieging-party against the +Affghans, with the scaling-ladders reared against the wall; he had seen +the dark faces grinning down upon him--all savage glaring eyes and +fierce glistening teeth--and had heard the voices of his men urging him +on to the encounter, but had felt himself paralysed and helpless, with +his sabre weak as a withered reed in his nerveless hand. + +"For God's sake, let there be no quarrelling with phrases between you +and me, Olivia!" he cried. "If you or any other living being have +injured my wife, the reckoning between us shall be no light one. But +there will be time enough to talk of that by-and-by. I stand before +you, newly risen from a grave in which I have lain for more than three +months, as dead to the world, and to every creature I have ever loved +or hated, as if the Funeral Service had been read over my coffin. I +come to demand from you an account of what has happened during that +interval. If you palter or prevaricate with me, I shall know that it is +because you fear to tell me the truth." + +"Fear!" + +"Yes; you have good reason to fear, if you have wronged Mary Arundel. +Why did she leave this house?" + +"Because she was not happy in it, I suppose. She chose to shut herself +up in her own room, and to refuse to be governed, or advised, or +consoled. I tried to do my duty to her; yes," cried Olivia Marchmont, +suddenly raising her voice, as if she had been vehemently +contradicted;--"yes, I did try to do my duty to her. I urged her to +listen to reason; I begged her to abandon her foolish falsehood about a +marriage with you in London." + +"You disbelieved in that marriage?" + +"I did," answered Olivia. + +"You lie!" cried Edward Arundel. "You knew the poor child had spoken +the truth. You knew her--you knew me--well enough to know that I should +not have detained her away from her home an hour, except to make her my +wife--except to give myself the strongest right to love and defend +her." + +"I knew nothing of the kind, Captain Arundel; you and Mary Marchmont +had taken good care to keep your secrets from me. I knew nothing of +your plots, your intentions. _I_ should have considered that one of the +Dangerfield Arundels would have thought his honour sullied by such an +act as a stolen marriage with an heiress, considerably under age, and +nominally in the guardianship of her stepmother. I did, therefore, +disbelieve the story Mary Marchmont told me. Another person, much more +experienced than I, also disbelieved the unhappy girl's account of her +absence." + +"Another person! What other person?" + +"Mr. Marchmont." + +"Mr. Marchmont!" + +"Yes; Paul Marchmont,--my husband's first-cousin." + +A sudden cry of rage and grief broke from Edward Arundel's lips. + +"O my God!" he exclaimed, "there was some foundation for the warning in +John Marchmont's letter, after all. And I laughed at him; I laughed at +my poor friend's fears." + +The widow looked at her kinsman in mute wonder. + +"Has Paul Marchmont been in this house?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"When was he here?" + +"He has been here often; he comes here constantly. He has been living +at Kemberling for the last three months." + +"Why?" + +"For his own pleasure, I suppose," Olivia answered haughtily. "It is no +business of mine to pry into Mr. Marchmont's motives." + +Edward Arundel ground his teeth in an access of ungovernable passion. +It was not against Olivia, but against himself this time that he was +enraged. He hated himself for the arrogant folly, the obstinate +presumption, with which he had ridiculed and slighted John Marchmont's +vague fears of his kinsman Paul. + +"So this man has been here,--is here constantly," he muttered. "Of +course, it is only natural that he should hang about the place. And you +and he are stanch allies, I suppose?" he added, turning upon Olivia. + +"Stanch allies! Why?" + +"Because you both hate my wife." + +"What do you mean?" + +"You both hate her. You, out of a base envy of her wealth; because of +her superior rights, which made you a secondary person in this house, +perhaps,--there is nothing else for which you _could_ hate her. Paul +Marchmont, because she stands between him and a fortune. Heaven help +her! Heaven help my poor, gentle, guileless darling! Surely Heaven must +have had some pity upon her when her husband was not by!" + +The young man dashed the blinding tears from his eyes. They were the +first that he had shed since he had risen from that which many people +had thought his dying-bed, to search for his wife. + +But this was no time for tears or lamentations. Stern determination +took the place of tender pity and sorrowful love. It was a time for +resolution and promptitude. + +"Olivia Marchmont," he said, "there has been some foul play in this +business. My wife has been missing a month; yet when I asked my mother +what had happened at this house during my illness, she could tell me +nothing. Why did you not write to tell her of Mary's flight?" + +"Because Mrs. Arundel has never done me the honour to cultivate any +intimacy between us. My father writes to his sister-in-law sometimes; I +scarcely ever write to my aunt. On the other hand, your mother had +never seen Mary Marchmont, and could not be expected to take any great +interest in her proceedings. There was, therefore, no reason for my +writing a special letter to announce the trouble that had befallen me." + +"You might have written to my mother about my marriage. You might have +applied to her for confirmation of the story which you disbelieved." + +Olivia Marchmont smiled. + +"Should I have received that confirmation?" she said. "No. I saw your +mother's letters to my father. There was no mention in those letters of +any marriage; no mention whatever of Mary Marchmont. This in itself was +enough to confirm my disbelief. Was it reasonable to imagine that you +would have married, and yet have left your mother in total ignorance of +the fact?" + +"O God, help me!" cried Edward Arundel, wringing his hands. "It seems +as if my own folly, my own vile procrastination, have brought this +trouble upon my wife. Olivia Marchmont, have pity upon me. If you hate +this girl, your malice must surely have been satisfied by this time. +She has suffered enough. Pity me, and help me; if you have any human +feeling in your breast. She left this house because her life here had +grown unendurable; because she saw herself doubted, disbelieved, +widowed in the first month of her marriage, utterly desolate and +friendless. Another woman might have borne up against all this misery. +Another woman would have known how to assert herself, and to defend +herself, even in the midst of her sorrow and desolation. But my poor +darling is a child; a baby in ignorance of the world. How should _she_ +protect herself against her enemies? Her only instinct was to run away +from her persecutors,--to hide herself from those whose pretended +doubts flung the horror of dishonour upon her. I can understand all +now; I can understand. Olivia Marchmont, this man Paul has a strong +reason for being a villain. The motives that have induced you to do +wrong must be very small in comparison to his. He plays an infamous +game, I believe; but he plays for a high stake." + +A high stake! Had not _she_ perilled her soul upon the casting of this +die? Had _she_ not flung down her eternal happiness in that fatal game +of hazard? + +"Help me, then, Olivia," said Edward, imploringly; "help me to find my +wife; and atone for all that you have ever done amiss in the past. It +is not too late." + +His voice softened as he spoke. He turned to her, with his hands +clasped, waiting anxiously for her answer. Perhaps this appeal was the +last cry of her good angel, pleading against the devils for her +redemption. But the devils had too long held possession of this woman's +breast. They arose, arrogant and unpitying, and hardened her heart +against that pleading voice. + +"How much he loves her!" thought Olivia Marchmont; "how dearly he loves +her! For her sake he humiliates himself to me." + +Then, with no show of relenting in her voice or manner, she said +deliberately: + +"I can only tell you again what I told you before. The placard you saw +at the park-gates can tell you as much as I can. Mary Marchmont ran +away. She was sought for in every direction, but without success. Mr. +Marchmont, who is a man of the world, and better able to suggest what +is right in such a case as this, advised that Mr. Paulette should be +sent for. He was accordingly communicated with. He came, and instituted +a fresh search. He also caused a bill to be printed and distributed +through the country. Advertisements were inserted in the 'Times' and +other papers. For some reason--I forget what reason--Mary Marchmont's +name did not appear in these advertisements. They were so worded as to +render the publication of the name unnecessary." + +Edward Arundel pushed his hand across his forehead. + +"Richard Paulette has been here?" he murmured, in a low voice. + +He had every confidence in the lawyer; and a deadly chill came over him +at the thought that the cool, hard-headed solicitor had failed to find +the missing girl. + +"Yes; he was here two or three days." + +"And he could do nothing?" + +"Nothing, except what I have told you." + +The young man thrust his hand into his breast to still the cruel +beating of his heart. A sudden terror had taken possession of him,--a +horrible dread that he should never look upon his young wife's face +again. For some minutes there was a dead silence in the room, only +broken once or twice by the falling of some ashes on the hearth. +Captain Arundel sat with his face hidden behind his hand. Olivia still +stood as she had stood when her cousin entered the room, erect and +gloomy, by the old-fashioned chimney-piece. + +"There was something in that placard," the soldier said at last, in a +hoarse, altered voice,--"there was something about my wife having been +seen last by the water-side. Who saw her there?" + +"Mr. Weston, a surgeon of Kemberling,--Paul Marchmont's +brother-in-law." + +"Was she seen by no one else?" + +"Yes; she was seen at about the same time--a little sooner or later, we +don't know which--by one of Farmer Pollard's men." + +"And she has never been seen since?" + +"Never; that is to say, we can hear of no one who has seen her." + +"At what time in the day was she seen by this Mr. Weston?" + +"At dusk; between five and six o'clock." + +Edward Arundel put his hand suddenly to his throat, as if to check some +choking sensation that prevented his speaking. + +"Olivia," he said, "my wife was last seen by the river-side. Does any +one think that, by any unhappy accident, by any terrible fatality, she +lost her way after dark, and fell into the water? or that--O God, that +would be too horrible!--does any one suspect that she drowned herself?" + +"Many things have been said since her disappearance," Olivia Marchmont +answered. "Some people say one thing, some another." + +"And it has been said that she--that she was drowned?" + +"Yes; many people have said so. The river was dragged while Mr. +Paulette was here, and after he went away. The men were at work with +the drags for more than a week." + +"And they found nothing?" + +"Nothing." + +"Was there any other reason for supposing that--that my wife fell into +the river?" + +"Only one reason." + +"What was that?" + +"I will show you," Olivia Marchmont answered. + +She took a bunch of keys from her pocket, and went to an old-fashioned +bureau or cabinet upon the other side of the room. She unlocked the +upper part of this bureau, opened one of the drawers, and took from it +something which she brought to Edward Arundel. + +This something was a little shoe; a little shoe of soft bronzed +leather, stained and discoloured with damp and moss, and trodden down +upon one side, as if the wearer had walked a weary way in it, and had +been unaccustomed to so much walking. + +Edward Arundel remembered, in that brief, childishly-happy honeymoon at +the little village near Winchester, how often he had laughed at his +young wife's propensity for walking about damp meadows in such delicate +little slippers as were better adapted to the requirements of a +ballroom. He remembered the slender foot, so small that he could take +it in his hand; the feeble little foot that had grown tired in long +wanderings by the Hampshire trout-streams, but which had toiled on in +heroic self-abnegation so long as it was the will of the sultan to +pedestrianise. + +"Was this found by the river-side?" he asked, looking piteously at the +slipper which Mrs. Marchmont had put into his hand. + +"Yes; it was found amongst the rushes on the shore, a mile below the +spot at which Mr. Weston saw my step-daughter." + +Edward Arundel put the little shoe into his bosom. + +"I'll not believe it," he cried suddenly; "I'll not believe that my +darling is lost to me. She was too good, far too good, to think of +suicide; and Providence would never suffer my poor lonely child to be +led away to a dreary death upon that dismal river-shore. No, no; she +fled away from this place because she was too wretched here. She went +away to hide herself amongst those whom she could trust, until her +husband came to claim her. I will believe anything in the world except +that she is lost to me. And I will not believe that, I will never +believe that, until I look down at her corpse; until I lay my hand on +her cold breast, and feel that her true heart has ceased beating. As I +went out of this place four months ago to look for her, I will go again +now. My darling, my darling, my innocent pet, my childish bride; I will +go to the very end of the world in search of you." + +The widow ground her teeth as she listened to her kinsman's passionate +words. Why did he for ever goad her to blacker wickedness by this +parade of his love for Mary? Why did he force her to remember every +moment how much cause she had to hate this pale-faced girl? + +Captain Arundel rose, and walked a few paces, leaning on his stick as +he went. + +"You will sleep here to-night, of course?" Olivia Marchmont said. + +"Sleep here!" + +His tone expressed plainly enough that the place was abhorrent to him. + +"Yes; where else should you stay?" + +"I meant to have stopped at the nearest inn." + +"The nearest inn is at Kemberling." + +"That would suit me well enough," the young man answered indifferently; +"I must be in Kemberling early to-morrow, for I must see Paul +Marchmont. I am no nearer the comprehension of my wife's flight by +anything that you have told me. It is to Paul Marchmont that I must +look next. Heaven help him if he tries to keep the truth from me." + +"You will see Mr. Marchmont here as easily as at Kemberling," Olivia +answered; "he comes here every day." + +"What for?" + +"He has built a sort of painting-room down by the river-side, and he +paints there whenever there is light." + +"Indeed!" cried Edward Arundel; "he makes himself at home at Marchmont +Towers, then?" + +"He has a right to do so, I suppose," answered the widow indifferently. +"If Mary Marchmont is dead, this place and all belonging to it is his. +As it is, I am only here on sufferance." + +"He has taken possession, then?" + +"On the contrary, he shrinks from doing so." + +"And, by the Heaven above us, he does wisely," cried Edward Arundel. +"No man shall seize upon that which belongs to my darling. No foul plot +of this artist-traitor shall rob her of her own. God knows how little +value _I_ set upon her wealth; but I will stand between her and those +who try to rob her, until my last gasp. No, Olivia; I'll not stay here; +I'll accept no hospitality from Mr. Marchmont. I suspect him too much." + +He walked to the door; but before he reached it the widow went to one +of the windows, and pushed aside the blind. + +"Look at the rain," she said; "hark at it; don't you hear it, drip, +drip, drip upon the stone? I wouldn't turn a dog out of doors upon such +a night as this; and you--you are so ill--so weak. Edward Arundel, do +you hate me so much that you refuse to share the same shelter with me, +even for a night?" + +There is nothing so difficult of belief to a man, who is not a coxcomb, +as the simple fact that he is beloved by a woman whom he does not love, +and has never wooed by word or deed. But for this, surely Edward +Arundel must, in that sudden burst of tenderness, that one piteous +appeal, have discovered a clue to his cousin's secret. + +He discovered nothing; he guessed nothing. But he was touched by her +tone, even in spite of his utter ignorance of its meaning, and he +replied, in an altered manner, + +"Certainly, Olivia, if you really wish it, I will stay. Heaven knows I +have no desire that you and I should be ill friends. I want your help; +your pity, perhaps. I am quite willing to believe that any cruel things +you said to Mary arose from an outbreak of temper. I cannot think that +you could be base at heart. I will even attribute your disbelief of the +statement made by my poor girl as to our marriage to the narrow +prejudices learnt in a small country town. Let us be friends, Olivia." + +He held out his hand. His cousin laid her cold fingers in his open +palm, and he shuddered as if he had come in contact with a corpse. +There was nothing very cordial in the salutation. The two hands seemed +to drop asunder, lifeless and inert; as if to bear mute witness that +between these two people there was no possibility of sympathy or union. + +But Captain Arundel accepted his cousin's hospitality. Indeed he had +need to do so; for he found that his valet had relied upon his master's +stopping at the Towers, and had sent the carriage back to Swampington. +A tray with cold meat and wine was brought into the drawing-room for +the young soldier's refreshment. He drank a glass of Madeira, and made +some pretence of eating a few mouthfuls, out of courtesy to Olivia; but +he did this almost mechanically. He sat silent and gloomy, brooding +over the terrible shock that he had so newly received; brooding over +the hidden things that had happened in that dreary interval, during +which he had been as powerless to defend his wife from trouble as a +dead man. + +Again and again the cruel thought returned to him, each time with a +fresh agony,--that if he had written to his mother, if he had told her +the story of his marriage, the things which had happened could never +have come to pass. Mary would have been sheltered and protected by a +good and loving woman. This thought, this horrible self-reproach, was +the bitterest thing the young man had to bear. + +"It is too great a punishment," he thought; "I am too cruelly punished +for having forgotten everything in my happiness with my darling." + +The widow sat in her low easy-chair near the fire, with her eyes fixed +upon the burning coals; the grate had been replenished, and the light +of the red blaze shone full upon Olivia Marchmont's haggard face. +Edward Arundel, aroused for a few moments out of his gloomy +abstraction, was surprised at the change which an interval of a few +months had made in his cousin. The gloomy shadow which he had often +seen on her face had become a fixed expression; every line had +deepened, as if by the wear and tear of ten years, rather than by the +progress of a few months. Olivia Marchmont had grown old before her +time. Nor was this the only change. There was a look, undefined and +undefinable, in the large luminous grey eyes, unnaturally luminous now, +which filled Edward Arundel with a vague sense of terror; a terror +which he would not--which he dared not--attempt to analyse. He +remembered Mary's unreasoning fear of her stepmother, and he now +scarcely wondered at that fear. There was something almost weird and +unearthly in the aspect of the woman sitting opposite to him by the +broad hearth: no vestige of colour in her gloomy face, a strange light +burning in her eyes, and her black draperies falling round her in +straight, lustreless folds. + +"I fear you have been ill, Olivia," the young man said, presently. + +Another sentiment had arisen in his breast side by side with that vague +terror,--a fancy that perhaps there was some reason why his cousin +should be pitied. + +"Yes," she answered indifferently; as if no subject of which Captain +Arundel could have spoken would have been of less concern to +her,--"yes, I have been very ill." + +"I am sorry to hear it." + +Olivia looked up at him and smiled. Her smile was the strangest he had +ever seen upon a woman's face. + +"I am very sorry to hear it. What has been the matter with you?" + +"Slow fever, Mr. Weston said." + +"Mr. Weston?" + +"Yes; Mr. Marchmont's brother-in-law. He has succeeded to Mr. +Dawnfield's practice at Kemberling. He attended me, and he attended my +step-daughter." + +"My wife was ill, then?" + +"Yes; she had brain-fever: she recovered from that, but she did not +recover strength. Her low spirits alarmed me, and I considered it only +right--Mr. Marchmont suggested also--that a medical man should be +consulted." + +"And what did this man, this Mr. Weston, say?" + +"Very little; there was nothing the matter with Mary, he said. He gave +her a little medicine, but only in the desire of strengthening her +nervous system. He could give her no medicine that would have any very +good effect upon her spirits, while she chose to keep herself +obstinately apart from every one." + +The young man's head sank upon his breast. The image of his desolate +young wife arose before him; the image of a pale, sorrowful girl, +holding herself apart from her persecutors, abandoned, lonely, +despairing. Why had she remained at Marchmont Towers? Why had she ever +consented to go there, when she had again and again expressed such +terror of her stepmother? Why had she not rather followed her husband +down to Devonshire, and thrown herself upon his relatives for +protection? Was it like this girl to remain quietly here in +Lincolnshire, when the man she loved with such innocent devotion was +lying between life and death in the west? + +"She is such a child," he thought,--"such a child in her ignorance of +the world. I must not reason about her as I would about another woman." + +And then a sudden flush of passionate emotion rose to his face, as a +new thought flashed into his mind. What if this helpless girl had been +detained by force at Marchmont Towers? + +"Olivia," he cried, "whatever baseness this man, Paul Marchmont, may be +capable of, you at least must be superior to any deliberate sin. I have +all my life believed in you, and respected you, as a good woman. Tell +me the truth, then, for pity's sake. Nothing that you can tell me will +fill up the dead blank that the horrible interval since my accident has +made in my life. But you can give me some help. A few words from you +may clear away much of this darkness. How did you find my wife? How did +you induce her to come back to this place? I know that she had an +unreasonable dread of returning here." + +"I found her through the agency of Mr. Marchmont," Olivia answered, +quietly. "I had some difficulty in inducing her to return here; but +after hearing of your accident--" + +"How was the news of that broken to her?" + +"Unfortunately she saw a paper that had happened to be left in her +way." + +"By whom?" + +"By Mr. Marchmont." + +"Where was this?" + +"In Hampshire." + +"Indeed! Then Paul Marchmont went with you to Hampshire?" + +"He did. He was of great service to me in this crisis. After seeing the +paper, my stepdaughter was seized with brain-fever. She was unconscious +when we brought her back to the Towers. She was nursed by my old +servant Barbara, and had the highest medical care. I do not think that +anything more could have been done for her." + +"No," answered Edward Arundel, bitterly; "unless you could have loved +her." + +"We cannot force our affections," the widow said, in a hard voice. + +Another voice in her breast seemed to whisper, "Why do you reproach me +for not having loved this girl? If you had loved _me_, the whole world +would have been different." + +"Olivia Marchmont," said Captain Arundel, "by your own avowal there has +never been any affection for this orphan girl in your heart. It is not +my business to dwell upon the fact, as something almost unnatural under +the peculiar circumstances through which that helpless child was cast +upon your protection. It is needless to try to understand why you have +hardened your heart against my poor wife. Enough that it is so. But I +may still believe that, whatever your feelings may be towards your dead +husband's daughter, you would not be guilty of any deliberate act of +treachery against her. I can afford to believe this of you; but I +cannot believe it of Paul Marchmont. That man is my wife's natural +enemy. If he has been here during my illness, he has been here to plot +against her. When he came here, he came to attempt her destruction. She +stands between him and this estate. Long ago, when I was a careless +schoolboy, my poor friend, John Marchmont, told me that, if ever the +day came upon which Mary's interests should be opposed to the interests +of her cousin, that man would be a dire and bitter enemy; so much the +more terrible because in all appearance her friend. The day came; and +I, to whom the orphan girl had been left as a sacred legacy, was not by +to defend her. But I have risen from a bed that many have thought a bed +of death; and I come to this place with one indomitable resolution +paramount in my breast,--the determination to find my wife, and to +bring condign punishment upon the man who has done her wrong." + +Captain Arundel spoke in a low voice; but his passion was all the more +terrible because of the suppression of those common outward evidences +by which anger ordinarily betrays itself. He relapsed into thoughtful +silence. + +Olivia made no answer to anything that he had said. She sat looking at +him steadily, with an admiring awe in her face. How splendid he +was--this young hero--even in his sickness and feebleness! How +splendid, by reason of the grand courage, the chivalrous devotion, that +shone out of his blue eyes! + +The clock struck eleven while the cousins sat opposite to each +other,--only divided, physically, by the width of the tapestried +hearth-rug; but, oh, how many weary miles asunder in spirit!--and +Edward Arundel rose, startled from his sorrowful reverie. + +"If I were a strong man," he said, "I would see Paul Marchmont +to-night. But I must wait till to-morrow morning. At what time does he +come to his painting-room?"' + +"At eight o'clock, when the mornings are bright; but later when the +weather is dull." + +"At eight o'clock! I pray Heaven the sun may shine early to-morrow! I +pray Heaven I may not have to wait long before I find myself face to +face with that man! Good-night, Olivia." + +He took a candle from a table near the door, and lit it almost +mechanically. He found Mr. Morrison waiting for him, very sleepy and +despondent, in a large bedchamber in which Captain Arundel had never +slept before,--a dreary apartment, decked out with the faded splendours +of the past; a chamber in which the restless sleeper might expect to +see a phantom lady in a ghostly sacque, cowering over the embers, and +spreading her transparent hands above the red light. + +"It isn't particular comfortable, after Dangerfield," the valet +muttered in a melancholy voice; "and all I 'ope, Mr. Edward, is, that +the sheets are not damp. I've been a stirrin' of the fire and puttin' +on fresh coals for the last hour. There's a bed for me in the dressin' +room, within call." + +Captain Arundel scarcely heard what his servant said to him. He was +standing at the door of the spacious chamber, looking out into a long +low-roofed corridor, in which he had just encountered Barbara, Mrs. +Marchmont's confidential attendant,--the wooden-faced, +inscrutable-looking woman, who, according to Olivia, had watched and +ministered to his wife. + +"Was that the tenderest face that looked down upon my darling as she +lay on her sick-bed?" he thought. "I had almost as soon have had a +ghoul to watch by my poor dear's pillow." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE PAINTING-ROOM BY THE RIVER. + + +Edward Arundel lay awake through the best part of that November night, +listening to the ceaseless dripping of the rain upon the terrace, and +thinking of Paul Marchmont. It was of this man that he must demand an +account of his wife. Nothing that Olivia had told him had in any way +lessened this determination. The little slipper found by the water's +edge; the placard flapping on the moss-grown pillar at the entrance to +the park; the story of a possible suicide, or a more probable +accident;--all these things were as nothing beside the young man's +suspicion of Paul Marchmont. He had pooh-poohed John's dread of his +kinsman as weak and unreasonable; and now, with the same unreason, he +was ready to condemn this man, whom he had never seen, as a traitor and +a plotter against his young wife. + +He lay tossing from side to side all that night, weak and feverish, +with great drops of cold perspiration rolling down his pale face, +sometimes falling into a fitful sleep, in whose distorted dreams Paul +Marchmont was for ever present, now one man, now another. There was no +sense of fitness in these dreams; for sometimes Edward Arundel and the +artist were wrestling together with newly-sharpened daggers in their +eager hands, each thirsting for the other's blood; and in the next +moment they were friends, and had been friendly--as it seemed--for +years. + +The young man woke from one of these last dreams, with words of +good-fellowship upon his lips, to find the morning light gleaming +through the narrow openings in the damask window-curtains, and Mr. +Morrison laying out his master's dressing apparatus upon the carved oak +toilette-table. + +Captain Arundel dressed himself as fast as he could, with the +assistance of the valet, and then made his way down the broad +staircase, with the help of his cane, upon which he had need to lean +pretty heavily, for he was as weak as a child. + +"You had better give me the brandy-flask, Morrison," he said. "I am +going out before breakfast. You may as well come with me, by-the-by; +for I doubt if I could walk as far as I want to go, without the help of +your arm." + +In the hall Captain Arundel found one of the servants. The western door +was open, and the man was standing on the threshold looking out at the +morning. The rain had ceased; but the day did not yet promise to be +very bright, for the sun gleamed like a ball of burnished copper +through a pale November mist. + +"Do you know if Mr. Paul Marchmont has gone down to the boat-house?" +Edward asked. + +"Yes, sir," the man answered; "I met him just now in the quadrangle. +He'd been having a cup of coffee with my mistress." + +Edward started. They were friends, then, Paul Marchmont and +Olivia!--friends, but surely not allies! Whatever villany this man +might be capable of committing, Olivia must at least be guiltless of +any deliberate treachery? + +Captain Arundel took his servant's arm and walked out into the +quadrangle, and from the quadrangle to the low-lying woody swamp, where +the stunted trees looked grim and weird-like in their leafless +ugliness. Weak as the young man was, he walked rapidly across the +sloppy ground, which had been almost flooded by the continual rains. He +was borne up by his fierce desire to be face to face with Paul +Marchmont. The savage energy of his mind was stronger than any physical +debility. He dismissed Mr. Morrison as soon as he was within sight of +the boat-house, and went on alone, leaning on his stick, and pausing +now and then to draw breath, angry with himself for his weakness. + +The boat-house, and the pavilion above it, had been patched up by some +country workmen. A handful of plaster here and there, a little new +brickwork, and a mended window-frame bore witness of this. The +ponderous old-fashioned wooden shutters had been repaired, and a good +deal of the work which had been begun in John Marchmont's lifetime had +now, in a certain rough manner, been completed. The place, which had +hitherto appeared likely to fall into utter decay, had been rendered +weather-tight and habitable; the black smoke creeping slowly upward +from the ivy-covered chimney, gave evidence of occupation. Beyond this, +a large wooden shed, with a wide window fronting the north, had been +erected close against the boat-house. This rough shed Edward Arundel at +once understood to be the painting-room which the artist had built for +himself. + +He paused a moment outside the door of this shed. A man's voice--a +tenor voice, rather thin and metallic in quality--was singing a scrap +of Rossini upon the other side of the frail woodwork. + +Edward Arundel knocked with the handle of his stick upon the door. The +voice left off singing, to say "Come in." + +The soldier opened the door, crossed the threshold, and stood face to +face with Paul Marchmont in the bare wooden shed. The painter had +dressed himself for his work. His coat and waistcoat lay upon a chair +near the door. He had put on a canvas jacket, and had drawn a loose +pair of linen trousers over those which belonged to his usual costume. +So far as this paint-besmeared coat and trousers went, nothing could +have been more slovenly than Paul Marchmont's appearance; but some +tincture of foppery exhibited itself in the black velvet smoking-cap, +which contrasted with and set off the silvery whiteness of his hair, as +well as in the delicate curve of his amber moustache. A moustache was +not a very common adornment in the year 1848. It was rather an +eccentricity affected by artists, and permitted as the wild caprice of +irresponsible beings, not amenable to the laws that govern rational and +respectable people. + +Edward Arundel sharply scrutinised the face and figure of the artist. +He cast a rapid glance round the bare whitewashed walls of the shed, +trying to read even in those bare walls some chance clue to the +painter's character. But there was not much to be gleaned from the +details of that almost empty chamber. A dismal, black-looking iron +stove, with a crooked chimney, stood in one corner. A great easel +occupied the centre of the room. A sheet of tin, nailed upon a wooden +shutter, swung backwards and forwards against the northern window, +blown to and fro by the damp wind that crept in through the crevices in +the framework of the roughly-fashioned casement. A heap of canvases +were piled against the walls, and here and there a half-finished +picture--a lurid Turneresque landscape; a black stormy sky; or a rocky +mountain-pass, dyed blood-red by the setting sun--was propped up +against the whitewashed background. Scattered scraps of water-colour, +crayon, old engravings, sketches torn and tumbled, bits of rockwork and +foliage, lay littered about the floor; and on a paint-stained +deal-table of the roughest and plainest fashion were gathered the +colour-tubes and palettes, the brushes and sponges and dirty cloths, +the greasy and sticky tin-cans, which form the paraphernalia of an +artist. Opposite the northern window was the moss-grown stone-staircase +leading up to the pavilion over the boat-house. Mr. Marchmont had built +his painting-room against the side of the pavilion, in such a manner as +to shut in the staircase and doorway which formed the only entrance to +it. His excuse for the awkwardness of this piece of architecture was +the impossibility of otherwise getting the all-desirable northern light +for the illumination of his rough studio. + +This was the chamber in which Edward Arundel found the man from whom he +came to demand an account of his wife's disappearance. The artist was +evidently quite prepared to receive his visitor. He made no pretence of +being taken off his guard, as a meaner pretender might have done. One +of Paul Marchmont's theories was, that as it is only a fool who would +use brass where he could as easily employ gold, so it is only a fool +who tells a lie when he can conveniently tell the truth. + +"Captain Arundel, I believe?" he said, pushing a chair forward for his +visitor. "I am sorry to say I recognise you by your appearance of ill +health. Mrs. Marchmont told me you wanted to see me. Does my meerschaum +annoy you? I'll put it out if it does. No? Then, if you'll allow me, +I'll go on smoking. Some people say tobacco-smoke gives a tone to one's +pictures. If so, mine ought to be Rembrandts in depth of colour." + +Edward Arundel dropped into the chair that had been offered to him. If +he could by any possibility have rejected even this amount of +hospitality from Paul Marchmont, he would have done so; but he was a +great deal too weak to stand, and he knew that his interview with the +artist must be a long one. + +"Mr. Marchmont," he said, "if my cousin Olivia told you that you might +expect to see me here to-day, she most likely told you a great deal +more. Did she tell you that I looked to you to account to me for the +disappearance of my wife?" + +Paul Marchmont shrugged his shoulders, as who should say, "This young +man is an invalid. I must not suffer myself to be aggravated by his +absurdity." Then taking his meerschaum from his lips, he set it down, +and seated himself at a few paces from Edward Arundel on the lowest of +the moss-grown steps leading up to the pavilion. + +"My dear Captain Arundel," he said, very gravely, "your cousin did +repeat to me a great deal of last night's conversation. She told me +that you had spoken of me with a degree of violence, natural enough +perhaps to a hot-tempered young soldier, but in no manner justified by +our relations. When you call upon me to account for the disappearance +of Mary Marchmont, you act about as rationally as if you declared me +answerable for the pulmonary complaint that carried away her father. +If, on the other hand, you call upon me to assist you in the endeavour +to fathom the mystery of her disappearance, you will find me ready and +willing to aid you to the very uttermost. It is to my interest as much +as to yours that this mystery should be cleared up." + +"And in the meantime you take possession of this estate?" + +"No, Captain Arundel. The law would allow me to do so; but I decline to +touch one farthing of the revenue which this estate yields, or to +commit one act of ownership, until the mystery of Mary Marchmont's +disappearance, or of her death, is cleared up." + +"The mystery of her death?" said Edward Arundel; "you believe, then, +that she is dead?" + +"I anticipate nothing; I think nothing," answered the artist; "I only +wait. The mysteries of life are so many and so incomprehensible,--the +stories, which are every day to be read by any man who takes the +trouble to look through a newspaper, are so strange, and savour so much +of the improbabilities of a novel-writer's first wild fiction,--that I +am ready to believe everything and anything. Mary Marchmont struck me, +from the first moment in which I saw her, as sadly deficient in mental +power. Nothing she could do would astonish me. She may be hiding +herself away from us, prompted only by some eccentric fancy of her own. +She may have fallen into the power of designing people. She may have +purposely placed her slipper by the water-side, in order to give the +idea of an accident or a suicide; or she may have dropped it there by +chance, and walked barefoot to the nearest railway-station. She acted +unreasonably before when she ran away from Marchmont Towers; she may +have acted unreasonably again." + +"You do not think, then, that she is dead?" + +"I hesitate to form any opinion; I positively decline to express one." + +Edward Arundel gnawed savagely at the ends of his moustache. This man's +cool imperturbability, which had none of the studied smoothness of +hypocrisy, but which seemed rather the plain candour of a thorough man +of the world, who had no wish to pretend to any sentiment he did not +feel, baffled and infuriated the passionate young soldier. Was it +possible that this man, who met him with such cool self-assertion, who +in no manner avoided any discussion of Mary Marchmont's +disappearance,--was it possible that he could have had any treacherous +and guilty part in that calamity? Olivia's manner looked like guilt; +but Paul Marchmont's seemed the personification of innocence. Not angry +innocence, indignant that its purity should have been suspected; but +the matter-of-fact, commonplace innocence of a man of the world, who is +a great deal too clever to play any hazardous and villanous game. + +"You can perhaps answer me this question, Mr. Marchmont," said Edward +Arundel. "Why was my wife doubted when she told the story of her +marriage?" + +The artist smiled, and rising from his seat upon the stone step, took a +pocket-book from one of the pockets of the coat that he had been +wearing. + +"I _can_ answer that question," he said, selecting a paper from amongst +others in the pocket-book. "This will answer it." + +He handed Edward Arundel the paper, which was a letter folded +lengthways, and indorsed, "From Mrs. Arundel, August 31st." Within this +letter was another paper, indorsed, "Copy of letter to Mrs. Arundel, +August 28th." + +"You had better read the copy first," Mr. Marchmont said, as Edward +looked doubtfully at the inner paper. + +The copy was very brief, and ran thus: + +"Marchmont Towers, August 28, 1848. + +"MADAM,--I have been given to understand that your son, Captain +Arundel, within a fortnight of his sad accident, contracted a secret +marriage with a young lady, whose name I, for several reasons, prefer +to withhold. If you can oblige me by informing me whether there is any +foundation for this statement, you will confer a very great favour upon + +"Your obedient servant, + +"PAUL MARCHMONT." + +The answer to this letter, in the hand of Edward Arundel's mother, was +equally brief: + +"Dangerfield Park, August 31, 1848. + +"SIR,--In reply to your inquiry, I beg to state that there can be no +foundation whatever for the report to which you allude. My son is too +honourable to contract a secret marriage; and although his present +unhappy state renders it impossible for me to receive the assurance +from his own lips, my confidence in his high principles justifies me in +contradicting any such report as that which forms the subject of your +letter. + +"I am, sir, + +"Yours obediently, + +"LETITIA ARUNDEL." + +The soldier stood, mute and confounded, with his mother's letter in his +hand. It seemed as if every creature had been against the helpless girl +whom he had made his wife. Every hand had been lifted to drive her from +the house that was her own; to drive her out upon the world, of which +she was ignorant, a wanderer and an outcast; perhaps to drive her to a +cruel death. + +"You can scarcely wonder if the receipt of that letter confirmed me in +my previous belief that Mary Marchmont's story of a marriage arose out +of the weakness of a brain, never too strong, and at that time very +much enfeebled by the effect of a fever." + +Edward Arundel was silent. He crushed his mother's letter in his hand. +Even his mother--even his mother--that tender and compassionate woman, +whose protection he had so freely promised, ten years before, in the +lobby of Drury Lane, to John Marchmont's motherless child,--even she, +by some hideous fatality, had helped to bring grief and shame upon the +lonely girl. All this story of his young wife's disappearance seemed +enveloped in a wretched obscurity, through whose thick darkness he +could not penetrate. He felt himself encompassed by a web of mystery, +athwart which it was impossible to cut his way to the truth. He asked +question after question, and received answers which seemed freely +given; but the story remained as dark as ever. What did it all mean? +What was the clue to the mystery? Was this man, Paul Marchmont,--busy +amongst his unfinished pictures, and bearing in his every action, in +his every word, the stamp of an easy-going, free-spoken soldier of +fortune,--likely to have been guilty of any dark and subtle villany +against the missing girl? He had disbelieved in the marriage; but he +had had some reason for his doubt of a fact that could not very well be +welcome to him. + +The young man rose from his chair, and stood irresolute, brooding over +these things. + +"Come, Captain Arundel," cried Paul Marchmont, heartily, "believe me, +though I have not much superfluous sentimentality left in my +composition after a pretty long encounter with the world, still I can +truly sympathise with your regret for this poor silly child. I hope, +for your sake, that she still lives, and is foolishly hiding herself +from us all. Perhaps, now you are able to act in the business, there +may be a better chance of finding her. I am old enough to be your +father, and am ready to give you the help of any knowledge of the world +which I may have gathered in the experience of a lifetime. Will you +accept my help?" + +Edward Arundel paused for a moment, with his head still bent, and his +eyes fixed upon the ground. Then suddenly lifting his head, he looked +full in the artist's face as he answered him. + +"No!" he cried. "Your offer may be made in all good faith, and if so, I +thank you for it; but no one loves this missing girl as I love her; no +one has so good a right as I have to protect and shelter her. I will +look for my wife, alone, unaided; except by such help as I pray that +God may give me." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +IN THE DARK. + + +Edward Arundel walked slowly back to the Towers, shaken in body, +perplexed in mind, baffled, disappointed, and most miserable; the young +husband, whose married life had been shut within the compass of a brief +honeymoon, went back to that dark and gloomy mansion within whose +encircling walls Mary had pined and despaired. + +"Why did she stop here?" he thought; "why didn't she come to me? I +thought her first impulse would have brought her to me. I thought my +poor childish love would have set out on foot to seek her husband, if +need were." + +He groped his way feebly and wearily amidst the leafless wood, and +through the rotting vegetation decaying in oozy slime beneath the black +shelter of the naked trees. He groped his way towards the dismal +eastern front of the great stone dwelling-house, his face always turned +towards the blank windows, that stared down at him from the discoloured +walls. + +"Oh, if they could speak!" he exclaimed, almost beside himself in his +perplexity and desperation; "if they could speak! If those cruel walls +could find a voice, and tell me what my darling suffered within their +shadow! If they could tell me why she despaired, and ran away to hide +herself from her husband and protector! _If_ they could speak!" + +He ground his teeth in a passion of sorrowful rage. + +"I should gain as much by questioning yonder stone wall as by talking +to my cousin, Olivia Marchmont," he thought, presently. "Why is that +woman so venomous a creature in her hatred of my innocent wife? Why is +it that, whether I threaten, or whether I appeal, I can gain nothing +from her--nothing? She baffles me as completely by her measured +answers, which seem to reply to my questions, and which yet tell me +nothing, as if she were a brazen image set up by the dark ignorance of +a heathen people, and dumb in the absence of an impostor-priest. She +baffles me, question her how I will. And Paul Marchmont, again,--what +have I learned from him? Am I a fool, that people can prevaricate and +lie to me like this? Has my brain no sense, and my arm no strength, +that I cannot wring the truth from the false throats of these +wretches?" + +The young man gnashed his teeth again in the violence of his rage. + +Yes, it was like a dream; it was like nothing but a dream. In dreams he +had often felt this terrible sense of impotence wrestling with a mad +desire to achieve something or other. But never before in his waking +hours had the young soldier experienced such a sensation. + +He stopped, irresolute, almost bewildered, looking back at the +boat-house, a black spot far away down by the sedgy brink of the slow +river, and then again turning his face towards the monotonous lines of +windows in the eastern frontage of Marchmont Towers. + +"I let that man play with me to-day," he thought; "but our reckoning is +to come. We have not done with each other yet." + +He walked on towards the low archway leading into the quadrangle. + +The room which had been John Marchmont's study, and which his widow had +been wont to occupy since his death, looked into this quadrangle. +Edward Arundel saw his cousin's dark head bending over a book, or a +desk perhaps, behind the window. + +"Let her beware of me, if she has done any wrong to my wife!" he +thought. "To which of these people am I to look for an account of my +poor lost girl? To which of these two am I to look! Heaven guide me to +find the guilty one; and Heaven have mercy upon that wretched creature +when the hour of reckoning comes; for I will have none." + +Olivia Marchmont, looking through the window, saw her kinsman's face +while this thought was in his mind. The expression which she saw there +was so terrible, so merciless, so sublime in its grand and vengeful +beauty, that her own face blanched even to a paler hue than that which +had lately become habitual to it. + +"Am I afraid of him?" she thought, as she pressed her forehead against +the cold glass, and by a physical effort restrained the convulsive +trembling that had suddenly shaken her frame. "Am I afraid of him? No; +what injury can he inflict upon me worse than that which he has done me +from the very first? If he could drag me to a scaffold, and deliver me +with his own hands into the grasp of the hangman, he would do me no +deeper wrong than he has done me from the hour of my earliest +remembrance of him. He could inflict no new pangs, no sharper tortures, +than I have been accustomed to suffer at his hands. He does not love +me. He has never loved me. He never will love me. _That_ is my wrong; +and it is for that I take my revenge!" + +She lifted her head, which had rested in a sullen attitude against the +glass, and looked at the soldier's figure slowly advancing towards the +western side of the house. + +Then, with a smile,--the same horrible smile which Edward Arundel had +seen light up her face on the previous night,--she muttered between her +set teeth:-- + +"Shall I be sorry because this vengeance has fallen across my pathway? +Shall I repent, and try to undo what I have done? Shall I thrust myself +between others and Mr. Edward Arundel? Shall _I_ make myself the ally +and champion of this gallant soldier, who seldom speaks to me except to +insult and upbraid me? Shall _I_ take justice into my hands, and +interfere for my kinsman's benefit? No; he has chosen to threaten me; +he has chosen to believe vile things of me. From the first his +indifference has been next kin to insolence. Let him take care of +himself." + +Edward Arundel took no heed of the grey eyes that watched him with such +a vengeful light in their fixed gaze. He was still thinking of his +missing wife, still feeling, to a degree that was intolerably painful, +that miserable dream-like sense of helplessness and prostration. + +"What am I to do?" he thought. "Shall I be for ever going backwards and +forwards between my Cousin Olivia and Paul Marchmont; for ever +questioning them, first one and then the other, and never getting any +nearer to the truth?" + +He asked himself this question, because the extreme anguish, the +intense anxiety, which he had endured, seemed to have magnified the +smallest events, and to have multiplied a hundred-fold the lapse of +time. It seemed as if he had already spent half a lifetime in his +search after John Marchmont's lost daughter. + +"O my friend, my friend!" he thought, as some faint link of +association, some memory thrust upon him by the aspect of the place in +which he was, brought back the simple-minded tutor who had taught him +mathematics eighteen years before,--"my poor friend, if this girl had +not been my love and my wife, surely the memory of your trust in me +would be enough to make me a desperate and merciless avenger of her +wrongs." + +He went into the hall, and from the hall to the tenantless western +drawing-room,--a dreary chamber, with its grim and faded splendour, its +stiff, old-fashioned furniture; a chamber which, unadorned by the +presence of youth and innocence, had the aspect of belonging to a day +that was gone, and people that were dead. So might have looked one of +those sealed-up chambers in the buried cities of Italy, when the doors +were opened, and eager living eyes first looked in upon the habitations +of the dead. + +Edward Arundel walked up and down the empty drawing-room. There were +the ivory chessmen that he had brought from India, under a glass shade +on an inlaid table in a window. How often he and Mary had played +together in that very window; and how she had always lost her pawns, +and left bishops and knights undefended, while trying to execute +impossible manoeuvres with her queen! The young man paced slowly +backwards and forwards across the old-fashioned bordered carpet, trying +to think what he should do. He must form some plan of action in his own +mind, he thought. There was foul work somewhere, he most implicitly +believed; and it was for him to discover the motive of the treachery, +and the person of the traitor. + +Paul Marchmont! Paul Marchmont! + +His mind always travelled back to this point. Paul Marchmont was Mary's +natural enemy. Paul Marchmont was therefore surely the man to be +suspected, the man to be found out and defeated. + +And yet, if there was any truth in appearances, it was Olivia who was +most inimical to the missing girl; it was Olivia whom Mary had feared; +it was Olivia who had driven John Marchmont's orphan-child from her +home once, and who might, by the same power to tyrannise and torture a +weak and yielding nature, have so banished her again. + +Or these two, Paul and Olivia, might both hate the defenceless girl, +and might have between them plotted a wrong against her. + +"Who will tell me the truth about my lost darling?" cried Edward +Arundel. "Who will help me to look for my missing love?" + +His lost darling; his missing love. It was thus that the young man +spoke of his wife. That dark thought which had been suggested to him by +the words of Olivia, by the mute evidence of the little bronze slipper +picked up near the river-brink, had never taken root, or held even a +temporary place in his breast. He would not--nay, more, he could +not--think that his wife was dead. In all his confused and miserable +dreams that dreary November night, no dream had ever shown him _that_. +No image of death had mingled itself with the distorted shadows that +had tormented his sleep. No still white face had looked up at him +through a veil of murky waters. No moaning sob of a rushing stream had +mixed its dismal sound with the many voices of his slumbers. No; he +feared all manner of unknown sorrows; he looked vaguely forward to a +sea of difficulty, to be waded across in blindness and bewilderment +before he could clasp his rescued wife in his arms; but he never +thought that she was dead. + +Presently the idea came to him that it was outside Marchmont +Towers,--away, beyond the walls of this grim, enchanted castle, where +evil spirits seemed to hold possession,--that he should seek for the +clue to his wife's hiding-place. + +"There is Hester, that girl who was fond of Mary," he thought; "she may +be able to tell me something, perhaps. I will go to her." + +He went out into the hall to look for his servant, the faithful +Morrison, who had been eating a very substantial breakfast with the +domestics of the Towers--"the sauce to meat" being a prolonged +discussion of the facts connected with Mary Marchmont's disappearance +and her relations with Edward Arundel--and who came, radiant and greasy +from the enjoyment of hot buttered cakes and Lincolnshire bacon, at the +sound of his master's voice. + +"I want you to get me some vehicle, and a lad who will drive me a few +miles, Morrison," the young soldier said; "or you can drive me +yourself, perhaps?" + +"Certainly, Master Edward; I have driven your pa often, when we was +travellin' together. I'll go and see if there's a phee-aton or a shay +that will suit you, sir; something that goes easy on its springs." + +"Get anything," muttered Captain Arundel, "so long as you can get it +without loss of time." + +All fuss and anxiety upon the subject of his health worried the young +man. He felt his head dizzied with weakness and excitement; his +arm--that muscular right arm, which had done him good service two years +before in an encounter with a tigress--was weaker than the jewel-bound +wrist of a woman. But he chafed against anything like consideration of +his weakness; he rebelled against anything that seemed likely to hinder +him in that one object upon which all the powers of his mind were bent. + +Mr. Morrison went away with some show of briskness, but dropped into a +very leisurely pace as soon as he was fairly out of his master's sight. +He went straight to the stables, where he had a pleasant gossip with +the grooms and hangers-on, and amused himself further by inspecting +every bit of horseflesh in the Marchmont stables, prior to selecting a +quiet grey cob which he felt himself capable of driving, and an +old-fashioned gig with a yellow body and black and yellow wheels, +bearing a strong resemblance to a monstrous wooden wasp. + +While the faithful attendant to whom Mrs. Arundel had delegated the +care of her son was thus employed, the soldier stood in the stone hall, +looking out at the dreary wintry landscape, and pining to hurry away +across the dismal swamps to the village in which he hoped to hear +tidings of her he sought. He was lounging in a deep oaken window-seat, +looking hopelessly at that barren prospect, that monotonous expanse of +flat morass and leaden sky, when he heard a footstep behind him; and +turning round saw Olivia's confidential servant, Barbara Simmons, the +woman who had watched by his wife's sick-bed,--the woman whom he had +compared to a ghoule. + +She was walking slowly across the hall towards Olivia's room, whither a +bell had just summoned her. Mrs. Marchmont had lately grown fretful and +capricious, and did not care to be waited upon by any one except this +woman, who had known her from her childhood, and was no stranger to her +darkest moods. + +Edward Arundel had determined to appeal to every living creature who +was likely to know anything of his wife's disappearance, and he +snatched the first opportunity of questioning this woman. + +"Stop, Mrs. Simmons," he said, moving away from the window; "I want to +speak to you; I want to talk to you about my wife." + +The woman turned to him with a blank face, whose expressionless stare +might mean either genuine surprise or an obstinate determination not to +understand anything that might be said to her. + +"Your wife, Captain Arundel!" she said, in cold measured tones, but +with an accent of astonishment. + +"Yes; my wife. Mary Marchmont, my lawfully-wedded wife. Look here, +woman," cried Edward Arundel; "if you cannot accept the word of a +soldier, and an honourable man, you can perhaps believe the evidence of +your eyes." + +He took a morocco memorandum-book from his breast-pocket. It was full +of letters, cards, bank-notes, and miscellaneous scraps of paper +carelessly stuffed into it, and amongst them Captain Arundel found the +certificate of his marriage, which he had put away at random upon his +wedding morning, and which had lain unheeded in his pocket-book ever +since. + +"Look here," he cried, spreading the document before the +waiting-woman's eyes, and pointing, with a shaking hand, to the lines. +"You believe that, I suppose?" + +"O yes, sir," Barbara Simmons answered, after deliberately reading the +certificate. "I have no reason to disbelieve it; no wish to disbelieve +it." + +"No; I suppose not," muttered Edward Arundel, "unless you too are +leagued with Paul Marchmont." + +The woman did not flinch at this hinted accusation, but answered the +young man in that slow and emotionless manner which no change of +circumstance seemed to have power to alter. + +"I am leagued with no one, sir," she said, coldly. "I serve no one +except my mistress, Miss Olivia--I mean Mrs. Marchmont." + +The study-bell rang for the second time while she was speaking. + +"I must go to my mistress now, sir," she said. "You heard her ringing +for me." + +"Go, then, and let me see you as you come back. I tell you I must and +will speak to you. Everybody in this house tries to avoid me. It seems +as if I was not to get a straight answer from any one of you. But I +_will_ know all that is to be known about my lost wife. Do you hear, +woman? I will know!" + +"I will come back to you directly, sir," Barbara Simmons answered +quietly. + +The leaden calmness of this woman's manner irritated Edward Arundel +beyond all power of expression. Before his cousin Olivia's gloomy +coldness he had been flung back upon himself as before an iceberg; but +every now and then some sudden glow of fiery emotion had shot up amid +that frigid mass, lurid and blazing, and the iceberg had been +transformed into an angry and passionate woman, who might, in that +moment of fierce emotion, betray the dark secrets of her soul. But +_this_ woman's manner presented a passive barrier, athwart which the +young soldier was as powerless to penetrate as he would have been to +walk through a block of solid stone. + +Olivia was like some black and stony castle, whose barred windows bade +defiance to the besieger, but behind whose narrow casements transient +flashes of light gleamed fitfully upon the watchers without, hinting at +the mysteries that were hidden within the citadel. + +Barbara Simmons resembled a blank stone wall, grimly confronting the +eager traveller, and giving no indication whatever of the unknown +country on the other side. + +She came back almost immediately, after being only a few moments in +Olivia's room,--certainly not long enough to consult with her mistress +as to what she was to say or to leave unsaid,--and presented herself +before Captain Arundel. + +"If you have any questions to ask, sir, about Miss Marchmont--about +your wife--I shall be happy to answer them," she said. + +"I have a hundred questions to ask," exclaimed the young man; "but +first answer me this one plainly and truthfully--Where do you think my +wife has gone? What do you think has become of her?" + +The woman was silent for a few moments, and then answered very +gravely,-- + +"I would rather not say what I think, sir." + +"Why not?" + +"Because I might say that which would make you unhappy." + +"Can anything be more miserable to me than the prevarication which I +meet with on every side?" cried Edward Arundel. "If you or any one else +will be straightforward with me--remembering that I come to this place +like a man who has risen from the grave, depending wholly on the word +of others for the knowledge of that which is more vital to me than +anything upon this earth--that person will be the best friend I have +found since I rose from my sick-bed to come hither. You can have had no +motive--if you are not in Paul Marchmont's pay--for being cruel to my +poor girl. Tell me the truth, then; speak, and speak fearlessly." + +"I have no reason to fear, sir," answered Barbara Simmons, lifting her +faded eyes to the young man's eager face, with a gaze that seemed to +say, "I have done no wrong, and I do not shrink from justifying +myself." "I have no reason to fear, sir; I was piously brought up, and +have done my best always to do my duty in the state of life in which +Providence has been pleased to place me. I have not had a particularly +happy life, sir; for thirty years ago I lost all that made me happy, in +them that loved me, and had a claim to love me. I have attached myself +to my mistress; but it isn't for me to expect a lady like her would +stoop to make me more to her or nearer to her than I have a right to be +as a servant." + +There was no accent of hypocrisy or cant in any one of these +deliberately-spoken words. It seemed as if in this speech the woman had +told the history of her life; a brief, unvarnished history of a barren +life, out of which all love and sunlight had been early swept away, +leaving behind a desolate blank, that was not destined to be filled up +by any affection from the young mistress so long and patiently served. + +"I am faithful to my mistress, sir," Barbara Simmons added, presently; +"and I try my best to do my duty to her. I owe no duty to any one +else." + +"You owe a duty to humanity," answered Edward Arundel. "Woman, do you +think duty is a thing to be measured by line and rule? Christ came to +save the lost sheep of the children of Israel; but was He less pitiful +to the Canaanitish woman when she carried her sorrows to His feet? You +and your mistress have made hard precepts for yourselves, and have +tried to live by them. You try to circumscribe the area of your +Christian charity, and to do good within given limits. The traveller +who fell among thieves would have died of his wounds, for any help he +might have had from you, if he had lain beyond your radius. Have you +yet to learn that Christianity is cosmopolitan, illimitable, +inexhaustible, subject to no laws of time or space? The duty you owe to +your mistress is a duty that she buys and pays for--a matter of sordid +barter, to be settled when you take your wages; the duty you owe to +every miserable creature in your pathway is a sacred debt, to be +accounted for to God." + +As the young soldier spoke thus, carried away by his passionate +agitation, suddenly eloquent by reason of the intensity of his feeling, +a change came over Barbara's face. There was no very palpable evidence +of emotion in that stolid countenance; but across the wooden blankness +of the woman's face flitted a transient shadow, which was like the +shadow of fear. + +"I tried to do my duty to Miss Marchmont as well as to my mistress," +she said. "I waited on her faithfully while she was ill. I sat up with +her six nights running; I didn't take my clothes off for a week. There +are folks in the house who can tell you as much." + +"God knows I am grateful to you, and will reward you for any pity you +may have shown my poor darling," the young man answered, in a more +subdued tone; "only, if you pity me, and wish to help me, speak out, +and speak plainly. What do you think has become of my lost girl?" + +"I cannot tell you, sir. As God looks down upon me and judges me, I +declare to you that I know no more than you know. But I think----" + +"You think what?" + +"That you will never see Miss Marchmont again." + +Edward Arundel started as violently as if, of all sentences, this was +the last he had expected to hear pronounced. His sanguine temperament, +fresh in its vigorous and untainted youth, could not grasp the thought +of despair. He could be mad with passionate anger against the obstacles +that separated him from his wife; but he could not believe those +obstacles to be insurmountable. He could not doubt the power of his own +devotion and courage to bring him back his lost love. + +"Never--see her--again!" + +He repeated these words as if they had belonged to a strange language, +and he were trying to make out their meaning. + +"You think," he gasped hoarsely, after a long pause,--"you +think--that--she is--dead?" + +"I think that she went out of this house in a desperate state of mind. +She was seen--not by me, for I should have thought it my duty to stop +her if I had seen her so--she was seen by one of the servants crying +and sobbing awfully as she went away upon that last afternoon." + +"And she was never seen again?" + +"Never by me." + +"And--you--you think she went out of this house with the intention +of--of--destroying herself?" + +The words died away in a hoarse whisper, and it was by the motion of +his white lips that Barbara Simmons perceived what the young man meant. + +"I do, sir." + +"Have you any--particular reason for thinking so?" + +"No reason beyond what I have told you, sir." + +Edward Arundel bent his head, and walked away to hide his blanched +face. He tried instinctively to conceal this mental suffering, as he +had sometimes hidden physical torture in an Indian hospital, prompted +by the involuntary impulse of a brave man. But though the woman's words +had come upon him like a thunderbolt, he had no belief in the opinion +they expressed. No; his young spirit wrestled against and rejected the +awful conclusion. Other people might think what they chose; but he knew +better than they. His wife was _not_ dead. His life had been so smooth, +so happy, so prosperous, so unclouded and successful, that it was +scarcely strange he should be sceptical of calamity,--that his mind +should be incapable of grasping the idea of a catastrophe so terrible +as Mary's suicide. + +"She was intrusted to me by her father," he thought. "She gave her +faith to me before God's altar. She _cannot_ have perished body and +soul; she _cannot_ have gone down to destruction for want of my arm +outstretched to save her. God is too good to permit such misery." + +The young soldier's piety was of the simplest and most unquestioning +order, and involved an implicit belief that a right cause must always +be ultimately victorious. With the same blind faith in which he had +often muttered a hurried prayer before plunging in amidst the mad havoc +of an Indian battle-field, confident that the justice of Heaven would +never permit heathenish Affghans to triumph over Christian British +gentlemen, he now believed that, in the darkest hour of Mary +Marchmont's life, God's arm had held her back from the dread +horror--the unatonable offence--of self-destruction. + +"I thank you for having spoken frankly to me," he said to Barbara +Simmons; "I believe that you have spoken in good faith. But I do not +think my darling is for ever lost to me. I anticipate trouble and +anxiety, disappointment, defeat for a time,--for a long time, perhaps; +but I _know_ that I shall find her in the end. The business of my life +henceforth is to look for her." + +Barbara's dull eyes held earnest watch upon the young man's countenance +as he spoke. Anxiety and even fear were in that gaze, palpable to those +who knew how to read the faint indications of the woman's stolid face. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE PARAGRAPH IN THE NEWSPAPER. + + +Mr. Morrison brought the gig and pony to the western porch while +Captain Arundel was talking to his cousin's servant, and presently the +invalid was being driven across the flat between the Towers and the +high-road to Kemberling. + +Mary's old favourite, Farmer Pollard's daughter, came out of a low +rustic shop as the gig drew up before her husband's door. This +good-natured, tender-hearted Hester, advanced to matronly dignity under +the name of Mrs. Jobson, carried a baby in her arms, and wore a white +dimity hood, that made a penthouse over her simple rosy face. But at +the sight of Captain Arundel nearly all the rosy colour disappeared +from the country-woman's plump cheeks, and she stared aghast at the +unlooked-for visitor, almost ready to believe that, if anything so +substantial as a pony and gig could belong to the spiritual world, it +was the phantom only of the soldier that she looked upon. + +"O sir!" she said; "O Captain Arundel, is it really you?" + +Edward alighted before Hester could recover from the surprise +occasioned by his appearance. + +"Yes, Mrs. Jobson," he said. "May I come into your house? I wish to +speak to you." + +Hester curtseyed, and stood aside to allow her visitor to pass her. Her +manner was coldly respectful, and she looked at the young officer with +a grave, reproachful face, which was strange to him. She ushered her +guest into a parlour at the back of the shop; a prim apartment, +splendid with varnished mahogany, shell-work boxes--bought during +Hester's honeymoon-trip to a Lincolnshire watering-place--and +voluminous achievements in the way of crochet-work; a gorgeous and +Sabbath-day chamber, looking across a stand of geraniums into a garden +that was orderly and trimly kept even in this dull November weather. + +Mrs. Jobson drew forward an uneasy easy-chair, covered with horsehair, +and veiled by a crochet-work representation of a peacock embowered +among roses. She offered this luxurious seat to Captain Arundel, who, +in his weakness, was well content to sit down upon the slippery +cushions. + +"I have come here to ask you to help me in my search for my wife, +Hester," Edward Arundel said, in a scarcely audible voice. + +It is not given to the bravest mind to be utterly independent and +defiant of the body; and the soldier was beginning to feel that he had +very nearly run the length of his tether, and must soon submit himself +to be prostrated by sheer physical weakness. + +"Your wife!" cried Hester eagerly. "O sir, is that true?" + +"Is what true?" + +"That poor Miss Mary was your lawful wedded wife?" + +"She was," replied Edward Arundel sternly, "my true and lawful wife. +What else should she have been, Mrs. Jobson?" + +The farmer's daughter burst into tears. + +"O sir," she said, sobbing violently as she spoke,--"O sir, the things +that was said against that poor dear in this place and all about the +Towers! The things that was said! It makes my heart bleed to think of +them; it makes my heart ready to break when I think what my poor sweet +young lady must have suffered. And it set me against you, sir; and I +thought you was a bad and cruel-hearted man!" + +"What did they say?" cried Edward. "What did they dare to say against +her or against me?" + +"They said that you had enticed her away from her home, sir, and +that--that--there had been no marriage; and that you had deluded that +poor innocent dear to run away with you; and that you'd deserted her +afterwards, and the railway accident had come upon you as a punishment +like; and that Mrs. Marchmont had found poor Miss Mary all alone at a +country inn, and had brought her back to the Towers." + +"But what if people did say this?" exclaimed Captain Arundel. "You +could have contradicted their foul slanders; you could have spoken in +defence of my poor helpless girl." + +"Me, sir!" + +"Yes. You must have heard the truth from my wife's own lips." + +Hester Jobson burst into a new flood of tears as Edward Arundel said +this. + +"O no, sir," she sobbed; "that was the most cruel thing of all. I never +could get to see Miss Mary; they wouldn't let me see her." + +"Who wouldn't let you?" + +"Mrs. Marchmont and Mr. Paul Marchmont. I was laid up, sir, when the +report first spread about that Miss Mary had come home. Things was kept +very secret, and it was said that Mrs. Marchmont was dreadfully cut up +by the disgrace that had come upon her stepdaughter. My baby was born +about that time, sir; but as soon as ever I could get about, I went up +to the Towers, in the hope of seeing my poor dear miss. But Mrs. +Simmons, Mrs. Marchmont's own maid, told me that Miss Mary was ill, +very ill, and that no one was allowed to see her except those that +waited upon her and that she was used to. And I begged and prayed that +I might be allowed to see her, sir, with the tears in my eyes; for my +heart bled for her, poor darling dear, when I thought of the cruel +things that was said against her, and thought that, with all her riches +and her learning, folks could dare to talk of her as they wouldn't dare +talk of a poor man's wife like me. And I went again and again, sir; but +it was no good; and, the last time I went, Mrs. Marchmont came out into +the hall to me, and told me that I was intrusive and impertinent, and +that it was me, and such as me, as had set all manner of scandal afloat +about her stepdaughter. But I went again, sir, even after that; and I +saw Mr. Paul Marchmont, and he was very kind to me, and frank and +free-spoken,--almost like you, sir; and he told me that Mrs. Marchmont +was rather stern and unforgiving towards the poor young lady,--he spoke +very kind and pitiful of poor Miss Mary,--and that he would stand my +friend, and he'd contrive that I should see my poor dear as soon as +ever she picked up her spirits a bit, and was more fit to see me; and I +was to come again in a week's time, he said." + +"Well; and when you went----?" + +"When I went, sir," sobbed the carpenter's wife, "it was the 18th of +October, and Miss Mary had run away upon the day before, and every body +at the Towers was being sent right and left to look for her. I saw Mrs. +Marchmont for a minute that afternoon; and she was as white as a sheet, +and all of a tremble from head to foot, and she walked about the place +as if she was out of her mind like." + +"Guilt," thought the young soldier; "guilt of some sort. God only knows +what that guilt has been!" + +He covered his face with his hands, and waited to hear what more Hester +Jobson had to tell him. There was no need of questioning here--no +reservation or prevarication. With almost as tender regret as he +himself could have felt, the carpenter's wife told him all that she +knew of the sad story of Mary's disappearance. + +"Nobody took much notice of me, sir, in the confusion of the place," +Mrs. Jobson continued; "and there is a parlour-maid at the Towers +called Susan Rose, that had been a schoolfellow with me ten years +before, and I got her to tell me all about it. And she said that poor +dear Miss Mary had been weak and ailing ever since she had recovered +from the brain-fever, and that she had shut herself up in her room, and +had seen no one except Mrs. Marchmont, and Mr. Paul, and Barbara +Simmons; but on the 17th Mrs. Marchmont sent for her, asking her to +come to the study. And the poor young lady went; and then Susan Rose +thinks that there was high words between Mrs. Marchmont and her +stepdaughter; for as Susan was crossing the hall poor Miss came out of +the study, and her face was all smothered in tears, and she cried out, +as she came into the hall, 'I can't bear it any longer. My life is too +miserable; my fate is too wretched!' And then she ran upstairs, and +Susan Rose followed up to her room and listened outside the door; and +she heard the poor dear sobbing and crying out again and again, 'O +papa, papa! If you knew what I suffer! O papa, papa, papa!'--so +pitiful, that if Susan Rose had dared she would have gone in to try and +comfort her; but Miss Mary had always been very reserved to all the +servants, and Susan didn't dare intrude upon her. It was late that +evening when my poor young lady was missed, and the servants sent out +to look for her." + +"And you, Hester,--you knew my wife better than any of these +people,--where do you think she went?" + +Hester Jobson looked piteously at the questioner. + +"O sir!" she cried; "O Captain Arundel, don't ask me; pray, pray don't +ask me." + +"You think like these other people,--you think that she went away to +destroy herself?" + +"O sir, what can I think, what can I think except that? She was last +seen down by the water-side, and one of her shoes was picked up amongst +the rushes; and for all there's been such a search made after her, and +a reward offered, and advertisements in the papers, and everything done +that mortal could do to find her, there's been no news of her, +sir,--not a trace to tell of her being living; not a creature to come +forward and speak to her being seen by them after that day. What can I +think, sir, what can I think, except--" + +"Except that she threw herself into the river behind Marchmont Towers." + +"I've tried to think different, sir; I've tried to hope I should see +that poor sweet lamb again; but I can't, I can't. I've worn mourning +for these three last Sundays, sir; for I seemed to feel as if it was a +sin and a disrespectfulness towards her to wear colours, and sit in the +church where I have seen her so often, looking so meek and beautiful, +Sunday after Sunday." + +Edward Arundel bowed his head upon his hands and wept silently. This +woman's belief in Mary's death afflicted him more than he dared confess +to himself. He had defied Olivia and Paul Marchmont, as enemies, who +tried to force a false conviction upon him; but he could neither doubt +nor defy this honest, warm-hearted creature, who wept aloud over the +memory of his wife's sorrows. He could not doubt her sincerity; but he +still refused to accept the belief which on every side was pressed upon +him. He still refused to think that his wife was dead. + +"The river was dragged for more than a week," he said, presently, "and +my wife's body was never found." + +Hester Jobson shook her head mournfully. + +"That's a poor sign, sir," she answered; "the river's full of holes, +I've heard say. My husband had a fellow-'prentice who drowned himself +in that river seven year ago, and _his_ body was never found." + +Edward Arundel rose and walked towards the door. + +"I do not believe that my wife is dead," he cried. He held out his hand +to the carpenter's wife. "God bless you!" he said. "I thank you from my +heart for your tender feeling towards my lost girl." + +He went out to the gig, in which Mr. Morrison waited for him, rather +tired of his morning's work. + +"There is an inn a little way farther along the street, Morrison," +Captain Arundel said. "I shall stop there." + +The man stared at his master. + +"And not go back to Marchmont Towers, Mr. Edward?" + +"No." + +Edward Arundel had held Nature in abeyance for more than +four-and-twenty hours, and this outraged Nature now took her revenge by +flinging the young man prostrate and powerless upon his bed at the +simple Kemberling hostelry, and holding him prisoner there for three +dreary days; three miserable days, with long, dark interminable +evenings, during which the invalid had no better employment than to lie +brooding over his sorrows, while Mr. Morrison read the "Times" +newspaper in a monotonous and droning voice, for his sick master's +entertainment. + +How that helpless and prostrate prisoner, bound hand and foot in the +stern grasp of retaliative Nature, loathed the leading-articles, the +foreign correspondence, in the leviathan journal! How he sickened at +the fiery English of Printing-House Square, as expounded by Mr. +Morrison! The sound of the valet's voice was like the unbroken flow of +a dull river. The great names that surged up every now and then upon +that sluggish tide of oratory made no impression upon the sick man's +mind. What was it to him if the glory of England were in danger, the +freedom of a mighty people wavering in the balance? What was it to him +if famine-stricken Ireland were perishing, and the far-away Indian +possessions menaced by contumacious and treacherous Sikhs? What was it +to him if the heavens were shrivelled like a blazing scroll, and the +earth reeling on its shaken foundations? What had he to do with any +catastrophe except that which had fallen upon his innocent young wife? + +"O my broken trust!" he muttered sometimes, to the alarm of the +confidential servant; "O my broken trust!" + +But during the three days in which Captain Arundel lay in the best +chamber at the Black Bull--the chief inn of Kemberling, and a very +splendid place of public entertainment long ago, when all the +northward-bound coaches had passed through that quiet Lincolnshire +village--he was not without a medical attendant to give him some feeble +help in the way of drugs and doctor's stuff, in the battle which he was +fighting with offended Nature. I don't know but that the help, however +well intended, may have gone rather to strengthen the hand of the +enemy; for in those days--the year '48 is very long ago when we take +the measure of time by science--country practitioners were apt to place +themselves upon the side of the disease rather than of the patient, and +to assist grim Death in his siege, by lending the professional aid of +purgatives and phlebotomy. + +On this principle Mr. George Weston, the surgeon of Kemberling, and the +submissive and well-tutored husband of Paul Marchmont's sister, would +fain have set to work with the prostrate soldier, on the plea that the +patient's skin was hot and dry, and his white lips parched with fever. +But Captain Arundel protested vehemently against any such treatment. + +"You shall not take an ounce of blood out of my veins," he said, "or +give me one drop of medicine that will weaken me. What I want is +strength; strength to get up and leave this intolerable room, and go +about the business that I have to do. As to fever," he added +scornfully, "as long as I have to lie here and am hindered from going +about the business of my life, every drop of my blood will boil with a +fever that all the drugs in Apothecaries' Hall would have no power to +subdue. Give me something to strengthen me. Patch me up somehow or +other, Mr. Weston, if you can. But I warn you that, if you keep me long +here, I shall leave this place either a corpse or a madman." + +The surgeon, drinking tea with his wife and brother-in-law half an hour +afterwards, related the conversation that had taken place between +himself and his patient, breaking up his narrative with a great many "I +said's" and "said he's," and with a good deal of rambling commentary +upon the text. + +Lavinia Weston looked at her brother while the surgeon told his story. + +"He is very desperate about his wife, then, this dashing young +captain?" Mr. Marchmont said, presently. + +"Awful," answered the surgeon; "regular awful. I never saw anything +like it. Really it was enough to cut a man up to hear him go on so. He +asked me all sorts of questions about the time when she was ill and I +attended upon her, and what did she say to me, and did she seem very +unhappy, and all that sort of thing. Upon my word, you know, Mr. +Paul,--of course I am very glad to think of your coming into the +fortune, and I'm very much obliged to you for the kind promises you've +made to me and Lavinia; but I almost felt as if I could have wished the +poor young lady hadn't drowned herself." + +Mrs. Weston shrugged her shoulders, and looked at her brother. + +"_Imbecile!_" she muttered. + +She was accustomed to talk to her brother very freely in rather +school-girl French before her husband, to whom that language was as the +most recondite of tongues, and who heartily admired her for superior +knowledge. + +He sat staring at her now, and eating bread-and-butter with a simple +relish, which in itself was enough to mark him out as a man to be +trampled upon. + + * * * * * + +On the fourth day after his interview with Hester, Edward Arundel was +strong enough to leave his chamber at the Black Bull. + +"I shall go to London by to-night's mail, Morrison," he said to his +servant; "but before I leave Lincolnshire, I must pay another visit to +Marchmont Towers. You can stop here, and pack my portmanteau while I +go." + +A rumbling old fly--looked upon as a splendid equipage by the +inhabitants of Kemberling--was furnished for Captain Arundel's +accommodation by the proprietor of the Black Bull; and once more the +soldier approached that ill-omened dwelling-place which had been the +home of his wife. + +He was ushered without any delay to the study in which Olivia spent the +greater part of her time. + +The dusky afternoon was already closing in. A low fire burned in the +old-fashioned grate, and one lighted wax-candle stood upon an open +davenport, before which the widow sat amid a confusion of torn papers, +cast upon the ground about her. + +The open drawers of the davenport, the littered scraps of paper and +loosely-tied documents, thrust, without any show of order, into the +different compartments of the desk, bore testimony to that state of +mental distraction which had been common to Olivia Marchmont for some +time past. She herself, the gloomy tenant of the Towers, sat with her +elbow resting on her desk, looking hopelessly and absently at the +confusion before her. + +"I am very tired," she said, with a sigh, as she motioned her cousin to +a chair. "I have been trying to sort my papers, and to look for bills +that have to be paid, and receipts. They come to me about everything. I +am very tired." + +Her manner was changed from that stern defiance with which she had last +confronted her kinsman to an air of almost piteous feebleness. She +rested her head on her hand, repeating, in a low voice, + +"Yes, I am very tired." + +Edward Arundel looked earnestly at her faded face, so faded from that +which he remembered it in its proud young beauty, that, in spite of his +doubt of this woman, he could scarcely refrain from some touch of pity +for her. + +"You are ill, Olivia," he said. + +"Yes, I am ill; I am worn out; I am tired of my life. Why does not God +have pity upon me, and take the bitter burden away? I have carried it +too long." + +She said this not so much to her cousin as to herself. She was like Job +in his despair, and cried aloud to the Supreme Himself in a gloomy +protest against her anguish. + +"Olivia," said Edward Arundel very earnestly, "what is it that makes +you unhappy? Is the burden that you carry a burden on your conscience? +Is the black shadow upon your life a guilty secret? Is the cause of +your unhappiness that which I suspect it to be? Is it that, in some +hour of passion, you consented to league yourself with Paul Marchmont +against my poor innocent girl? For pity's sake, speak, and undo what +you have done. You cannot have been guilty of a crime. There has been +some foul play, some conspiracy, some suppression; and my darling has +been lured away by the machinations of this man. But he could not have +got her into his power without your help. You hated her,--Heaven alone +knows for what reason,--and in an evil hour you helped him, and now you +are sorry for what you have done. But it is not too late, Olivia; +Olivia, it is surely not too late. Speak, speak, woman, and undo what +you have done. As you hope for mercy and forgiveness from God, undo +what you have done. I will exact no atonement from you. Paul Marchmont, +this smooth traitor, this frank man of the world, who defied me with a +smile,--he only shall be called upon to answer for the wrong done +against my darling. Speak, Olivia, for pity's sake," cried the young +man, casting himself upon his knees at his cousin's feet. "You are of +my own blood; you must have some spark of regard for me; have +compassion upon me, then, or have compassion upon your own guilty soul, +which must perish everlastingly if you withhold the truth. Have pity, +Olivia, and speak!" + +The widow had risen to her feet, recoiling from the soldier as he knelt +before her, and looking at him with an awful light in the eyes that +alone gave life to her corpse-like face. + +Suddenly she flung her arms up above her head, stretching her wasted +hands towards the ceiling. + +"By the God who has renounced and abandoned me," she cried, "I have no +more knowledge than you have of Mary Marchmont's fate. From the hour in +which she left this house, upon the 17th of October, until this present +moment, I have neither seen her nor heard of her. If I have lied to +you, Edward Arundel," she added, dropping her extended arms, and +turning quietly to her cousin,--"if I have lied to you in saying this, +may the tortures which I suffer be doubled to me,--if in the infinite +of suffering there is any anguish worse than that I now endure." + +Edward Arundel paused for a little while, brooding over this strange +reply to his appeal. Could he disbelieve his cousin? + +It is common to some people to make forcible and impious asseverations +of an untruth shamelessly, in the very face of an insulted Heaven. But +Olivia Marchmont was a woman who, in the very darkest hour of her +despair, knew no wavering from her faith in the God she had offended. + +"I cannot refuse to believe you, Olivia," Captain Arundel said +presently. "I do believe in your solemn protestations, and I no longer +look for help from you in my search for my lost love. I absolve you +from all suspicion of being aware of her fate _after_ she left this +house. But so long as she remained beneath this roof she was in your +care, and I hold you responsible for the ills that may have then +befallen her. You, Olivia, must have had some hand in driving that +unhappy girl away from her home." + +The widow had resumed her seat by the open davenport. She sat with her +head bent, her brows contracted, her mouth fixed and rigid, her left +hand trifling absently with the scattered papers before her. + +"You accused me of this once before, when Mary Marchmont left this +house," she said sullenly. + +"And you were guilty then," answered Edward. + +"I cannot hold myself answerable for the actions of others. Mary +Marchmont left this time, as she left before, of her own free will." + +"Driven away by your cruel words." + +"She must have been very weak," answered Olivia, with a sneer, "if a +few harsh words were enough to drive her away from her own house." + +"You deny, then, that you were guilty of causing this poor deluded +child's flight from this house?" + +Olivia Marchmont sat for some moments in moody silence; then suddenly +raising her head, she looked her cousin full in the face. + +"I do," she exclaimed; "if any one except herself is guilty of an act +which was her own, I am not that person." + +"I understand," said Edward Arundel; "it was Paul Marchmont's hand that +drove her out upon the dreary world. It was Paul Marchmont's brain that +plotted against her. You were only a minor instrument; a willing tool, +in the hands of a subtle villain. But he shall answer; he shall +answer!" + +The soldier spoke the last words between his clenched teeth. Then with +his chin upon his breast, he sat thinking over what he had just heard. + +"How was it?" he muttered; "how was it? He is too consummate a villain +to use violence. His manner the other morning told me that the law was +on his side. He had done nothing to put himself into my power, and he +defied me. How was it, then? By what means did he drive my darling to +her despairing flight?" + +As Captain Arundel sat thinking of these things, his cousin's idle +fingers still trifled with the papers on the desk; while, with her chin +resting on her other hand, and her eyes fixed upon the wall before her, +she stared blankly at the reflection of the flame of the candle on the +polished oaken panel. Her idle fingers, following no design, strayed +here and there among the scattered papers, until a few that lay nearest +the edge of the desk slid off the smooth morocco, and fluttered to the +ground. + +Edward Arundel, as absent-minded as his cousin, stooped involuntarily +to pick up the papers. The uppermost of those that had fallen was a +slip cut from a country newspaper, to which was pinned an open letter, +a few lines only. The paragraph in the newspaper slip was marked by +double ink-lines, drawn round it by a neat penman. Again almost +involuntarily, Edward Arundel looked at this marked paragraph. It was +very brief: + +"We regret to be called upon to state that another of the sufferers in +the accident which occurred last August on the South-Western Railway +has expired from injuries received upon that occasion. Captain Arundel, +of the H.E.I.C.S., died on Friday night at Dangerfield Park, Devon, the +seat of his elder brother." + +The letter was almost as brief as the paragraph: + +"Kemberling, October 17th. + +"MY DEAR MRS. MARCHMONT,--The enclosed has just come to hand. Let us +hope it is not true. But, in case of the worst, it should be shown to +Miss Marchmont _immediately_. Better that she should hear the news from +you than from a stranger. + +"Yours sincerely, + +"PAUL MARCHMONT." + +"I understand everything now," said Edward Arundel, laying these two +papers before his cousin; "it was with this printed lie that you and +Paul Marchmont drove my wife to despair--perhaps to death. My darling, +my darling," cried the young man, in a burst of uncontrollable agony, +"I refused to believe that you were dead; I refused to believe that you +were lost to me. I can believe it now; I can believe it now." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +EDWARD ARUNDEL'S DESPAIR. + + +Yes; Edward Arundel could believe the worst now. He could believe now +that his young wife, on hearing tidings of his death, had rushed madly +to her own destruction; too desolate, too utterly unfriended and +miserable, to live under the burden of her sorrows. + +Mary had talked to her husband in the happy, loving confidence of her +bright honeymoon; she had talked to him of her father's death, and the +horrible grief she had felt; the heart-sickness, the eager yearning to +be carried to the same grave, to rest in the same silent sleep. + +"I think I tried to throw myself from the window upon the night before +papa's funeral," she had said; "but I fainted away. I know it was very +wicked of me. But I was mad. My wretchedness had driven me mad." + +He remembered this. Might not this girl, this helpless child, in the +first desperation of her grief, have hurried down to that dismal river, +to hide her sorrows for ever under its slow and murky tide? + +Henceforward it was with a new feeling that Edward Arundel looked for +his missing wife. The young and hopeful spirit which had wrestled +against conviction, which had stubbornly preserved its own sanguine +fancies against the gloomy forebodings of others, had broken down +before the evidence of that false paragraph in the country newspaper. +That paragraph was the key to the sad mystery of Mary Arundel's +disappearance. Her husband could understand now why she ran away, why +she despaired; and how, in that desperation and despair, she might have +hastily ended her short life. + +It was with altered feelings, therefore, that he went forth to look for +her. He was no longer passionate and impatient, for he no longer +believed that his young wife lived to yearn for his coming, and to +suffer for the want of his protection; he no longer thought of her as a +lonely and helpless wanderer driven from her rightful home, and in her +childish ignorance straying farther and farther away from him who had +the right to succour and to comfort her. No; he thought of her now with +sullen despair at his heart; he thought of her now in utter +hopelessness; he thought of her with a bitter and agonising regret, +which we only feel for the dead. + +But this grief was not the only feeling that held possession of the +young soldier's breast. Stronger even than his sorrow was his eager +yearning for vengeance, his savage desire for retaliation. + +"I look upon Paul Marchmont as the murderer of my wife," he said to +Olivia, on that November evening on which he saw the paragraph in the +newspaper; "I look upon that man as the deliberate destroyer of a +helpless girl; and he shall answer to me for her life. He shall answer +to me for every pang she suffered, for every tear she shed. God have +mercy upon her poor erring soul, and help me to my vengeance upon her +destroyer." + +He lifted his eyes to heaven as he spoke, and a solemn shadow +overspread his pale face, like a dark cloud upon a winter landscape. + +I have said that Edward Arundel no longer felt a frantic impatience to +discover his wife's fate. The sorrowful conviction which at last had +forced itself upon him left no room for impatience. The pale face he +had loved was lying hidden somewhere beneath those dismal waters. He +had no doubt of that. There was no need of any other solution to the +mystery of his wife's disappearance. That which he had to seek for was +the evidence of Paul Marchmont's guilt. + +The outspoken young soldier, whose nature was as transparent as the +stainless soul of a child, had to enter into the lists with a man who +was so different from himself, that it was almost difficult to believe +the two individuals belonged to the same species. + +Captain Arundel went back to London, and betook himself forthwith to +the office of Messrs. Paulette, Paulette, and Mathewson. He had the +idea, common to many of his class, that all lawyers, whatever claims +they might have to respectability, are in a manner past-masters in +every villanous art; and, as such, the proper people to deal with a +villain. + +"Richard Paulette will be able to help me," thought the young man; +"Richard Paulette saw through Paul Marchmont, I dare say." + +But Richard Paulette had very little to say about the matter. He had +known Edward Arundel's father, and he had known the young soldier from +his early boyhood, and he seemed deeply grieved to witness his client's +distress; but he had nothing to say against Paul Marchmont. + +"I cannot see what right you have to suspect Mr. Marchmont of any +guilty share in your wife's disappearance," he said. "Do not think I +defend him because he is our client. You know that we are rich enough, +and honourable enough, to refuse the business of any man whom we +thought a villain. When I was in Lincolnshire, Mr. Marchmont did +everything that a man could do to testify his anxiety to find his +cousin." + +"Oh, yes," Edward Arundel answered bitterly; "that is only consistent +with the man's diabolical artifice; _that_ was a part of his scheme. He +wished to testify that anxiety, and he wanted you as a witness to his +conscientious search after my--poor--lost girl." His voice and manner +changed for a moment as he spoke of Mary. + +Richard Paulette shook his head. + +"Prejudice, prejudice, my dear Arundel," he said; "this is all +prejudice upon your part, I assure you. Mr. Marchmont behaved with +perfect honesty and candour. 'I won't tell you that I'm sorry to +inherit this fortune,' he said, 'because if I did you wouldn't believe +me--what man in his senses _could_ believe that a poor devil of a +landscape painter would regret coming into eleven thousand a year?--but +I am very sorry for this poor little girl's unhappy fate.' And I +believe," added Mr. Paulette, decisively, "that the man was heartily +sorry." + +Edward Arundel groaned aloud. + +"O God! this is too terrible," he muttered. "Everybody will believe in +this man rather than in me. How am I to be avenged upon the wretch who +caused my darling's death?" + +He talked for a long time to the lawyer, but with no result. Richard +Paulette considered the young man's hatred of Paul Marchmont only a +natural consequence of his grief for Mary's death. + +"I can't wonder that you are prejudiced against Mr. Marchmont," he +said; "it's natural; it's only natural; but, believe me, you are wrong. +Nothing could be more straightforward, and even delicate, than his +conduct. He refuses to take possession of the estate, or to touch a +farthing of the rents. 'No,' he said, when I suggested to him that he +had a right to enter in possession,--'no; we will not shut the door +against hope. My cousin may be hiding herself somewhere; she may return +by-and-by. Let us wait a twelvemonth. If at the end of that time, she +does not return, and if in the interim we receive no tidings from her, +no evidence of her existence, we may reasonably conclude that she is +dead; and I may fairly consider myself the rightful owner of Marchmont +Towers. In the mean time, you will act as if you were still Mary +Marchmont's agent, holding all moneys as in trust for her, but to be +delivered up to me at the expiration of a year from the day on which +she disappeared.' I do not think anything could be more straightforward +than that," added Richard Paulette, in conclusion. + +"No," Edward answered, with a sigh; "it _seems_ very straightforward. +But the man who could strike at a helpless girl by means of a lying +paragraph in a newspaper--" + +"Mr. Marchmont may have believed in that paragraph." + +Edward Arundel rose, with a gesture of impatience. + +"I came to you for help, Mr. Paulette," he said; "but I see you don't +mean to help me. Good day." + +He left the office before the lawyer could remonstrate with him. He +walked away, with passionate anger against all the world raging in his +breast. + +"Why, what a smooth-spoken, false-tongued world it is!" he thought. +"Let a man succeed in the vilest scheme, and no living creature will +care to ask by what foul means he may have won his success. What +weapons can I use against this Paul Marchmont, who twists truth and +honesty to his own ends, and masks his basest treachery under an +appearance of candour?" + +From Lincoln's Inn Fields Captain Arundel drove over Waterloo Bridge to +Oakley Street. He went to Mrs. Pimpernel's establishment, without any +hope of the glad surprise that had met him there a few months before. +He believed implicitly that his wife was dead, and wherever he went in +search of her he went in utter hopelessness, only prompted by the +desire to leave no part of his duty undone. + +The honest-hearted dealer in cast-off apparel wept bitterly when she +heard how sadly the Captain's honeymoon had ended. She would have been +content to detain the young soldier all day, while she bemoaned the +misfortunes that had come upon him; and now, for the first time, Edward +heard of dismal forebodings, and horrible dreams, and unaccountable +presentiments of evil, with which this honest woman had been afflicted +on and before his wedding-day, and of which she had made special +mention at the time to divers friends and acquaintances. + +"I never shall forget how shivery-like I felt as the cab drove off, +with that pore dear a-lookin' and smilin' at me out of the winder. I +says to Mrs. Polson, as her husband is in the shoemakin' line, two +doors further down,--I says, 'I do hope Capting Harungdell's lady will +get safe to the end of her journey.' I felt the cold shivers a-creepin' +up my back just azackly like I did a fortnight before my pore Jane +died, and I couldn't get it off my mind as somethink was goin' to +happen." + +From London Captain Arundel went to Winchester, much to the disgust of +his valet, who was accustomed to a luxuriously idle life at Dangerfield +Park, and who did not by any means relish this desultory wandering from +place to place. Perhaps there was some faint ray of hope in the young +man's mind, as he drew near to that little village-inn beneath whose +shelter he had been so happy with his childish bride. If she had _not_ +committed suicide; if she had indeed wandered away, to try and bear her +sorrows in gentle Christian resignation; if she had sought some retreat +where she might be safe from her tormentors,--would not every instinct +of her loving heart have led her here?--here, amid these low meadows +and winding streams, guarded and surrounded by the pleasant shelter of +grassy hill-tops, crowned by waving trees?--here, where she had been so +happy with the husband of her choice? + +But, alas! that newly-born hope, which had made the soldier's heart +beat and his cheek flush, was as delusive as many other hopes that lure +men and women onward in their weary wanderings upon this earth. The +landlord of the White Hart Inn answered Edward Arundel's question with +stolid indifference. + +No; the young lady had gone away with her ma, and a gentleman who came +with her ma. She had cried a deal, poor thing, and had seemed very much +cut up. (It was from the chamber-maid Edward heard this.) But her ma +and the gentleman had seemed in a great hurry to take her away. The +gentleman said that a village inn wasn't the place for her, and he said +he was very much shocked to find her there; and he had a fly got ready, +and took the two ladies away in it to the George, at Winchester, and +they were to go from there to London; and the young lady was crying +when she went away, and was as pale as death, poor dear. + +This was all that Captain Arundel gained by his journey to Milldale. He +went across country to the farming people near Reading, his wife's poor +relations. But they had heard nothing of her. They had wondered, +indeed, at having no letters from her, for she had been very kind to +them. They were terribly distressed when they were told of her +disappearance. + +This was the forlorn hope. It was all over now. Edward Arundel could no +longer struggle against the cruel truth. He could do nothing now but +avenge his wife's sorrows. He went down to Devonshire, saw his mother, +and told her the sad story of Mary's flight. But he could not rest at +Dangerfield, though Mrs. Arundel implored him to stay long enough to +recruit his shattered health. He hurried back to London, made +arrangements with his agent for being bought out of his regiment by his +brother officers, and then, turning his back upon the career that had +been far dearer to him than his life, he went down to Lincolnshire once +more, in the dreary winter weather, to watch and wait patiently, if +need were, for the day of retribution. + +There was a detached cottage, a lonely place enough, between Kemberling +and Marchmont Towers, that had been to let for a long time, being very +much out of repair, and by no means inviting in appearance. Edward +Arundel took this cottage. All necessary repairs and alterations were +executed under the direction of Mr. Morrison, who was to remain +permanently in the young man's service. Captain Arundel had a couple of +horses brought down to his new stable, and hired a country lad, who was +to act as groom under the eye of the factotum. Mr. Morrison and this +lad, with one female servant, formed Edward's establishment. + +Paul Marchmont lifted his auburn eyebrows when he heard of the new +tenant of Kemberling Retreat. The lonely cottage had been christened +Kemberling Retreat by a sentimental tenant; who had ultimately +levanted, leaving his rent three quarters in arrear. The artist +exhibited a gentlemanly surprise at this new vagary of Edward +Arundel's, and publicly expressed his pity for the foolish young man. + +"I am so sorry that the poor fellow should sacrifice himself to a +romantic grief for my unfortunate cousin," Mr. Marchmont said, in the +parlour of the Black Bull, where he condescended to drop in now and +then with his brother-in-law, and to make himself popular amongst the +magnates of Kemberling, and the tenant-farmers, who looked to him as +their future, if not their actual, landlord. "I am really sorry for the +poor lad. He's a handsome, high-spirited fellow, and I'm sorry he's +been so weak as to ruin his prospects in the Company's service. Yes; I +am heartily sorry for him." + +Mr. Marchmont discussed the matter very lightly in the parlour of the +Black Bull, but he kept silence as he walked home with the surgeon; and +Mr. George Weston, looking askance at his brother-in-law's face, saw +that something was wrong, and thought it advisable to hold his peace. + +Paul Marchmont sat up late that night talking to Lavinia after the +surgeon had gone to bed. The brother and sister conversed in subdued +murmurs as they stood close together before the expiring fire, and the +faces of both were very grave, indeed, almost apprehensive. + +"He must be terribly in earnest," Paul Marchmont said, "or he would +never have sacrificed his position. He has planted himself here, close +upon us, with a determination of watching us. We shall have to be very +careful." + + * * * * * + +It was early in the new year that Edward Arundel completed all his +arrangements, and took possession of Kemberling Retreat. He knew that, +in retiring from the East India Company's service, he had sacrificed +the prospect of a brilliant and glorious career, under some of the +finest soldiers who ever fought for their country. But he had made this +sacrifice willingly--as an offering to the memory of his lost love; as +an atonement for his broken trust. For it was one of his most bitter +miseries to remember that his own want of prudence had been the first +cause of all Mary's sorrows. Had he confided in his mother,--had he +induced her to return from Germany to be present at his marriage, and +to accept the orphan girl as a daughter,--Mary need never again have +fallen into the power of Olivia Marchmont. His own imprudence, his own +rashness, had flung this poor child, helpless and friendless, into the +hands of the very man against whom John Marchmont had written a solemn +warning,--a warning that it should have been Edward's duty to remember. +But who could have calculated upon the railway accident; and who could +have foreseen a separation in the first blush of the honeymoon? Edward +Arundel had trusted in his own power to protect his bride from every +ill that might assail her. In the pride of his youth and strength he +had forgotten that he was not immortal, and the last idea that could +have entered his mind was the thought that he should be stricken down +by a sudden calamity, and rendered even more helpless than the girl he +had sworn to shield and succour. + +The bleak winter crept slowly past, and the shrill March winds were +loud amidst the leafless trees in the wood behind Marchmont Towers. +This wood was open to any foot-passenger who might choose to wander +that way; and Edward Arundel often walked upon the bank of the slow +river, and past the boat-house, beneath whose shadow he had wooed his +young wife in the bright summer that was gone. The place had a mournful +attraction for the young man, by reason of the memory of the past, and +a different and far keener fascination in the fact of Paul Marchmont's +frequent occupation of his roughly-built painting-room. + +In a purposeless and unsettled frame of mind, Edward Arundel kept watch +upon the man he hated, scarcely knowing why he watched, or for what he +hoped, but with a vague belief that something would be discovered; that +some accident might come to pass which would enable him to say to Paul +Marchmont, + +"It was by your treachery my wife perished; and it is you who must +answer to me for her death." + +Edward Arundel had seen nothing of his cousin Olivia during that dismal +winter. He had held himself aloof from the Towers,--that is to say, he +had never presented himself there as a guest, though he had been often +on horseback and on foot in the wood by the river. He had not seen +Olivia, but he had heard of her through his valet, Mr. Morrison, who +insisted on repeating the gossip of Kemberling for the benefit of his +listless and indifferent master. + +"They do say as Mr. Paul Marchmont is going to marry Mrs. John +Marchmont, sir," Mr. Morrison said, delighted at the importance of his +information. "They say as Mr. Paul is always up at the Towers visitin' +Mrs. John, and that she takes his advice about everything as she does, +and that she's quite wrapped up in him like." + +Edward Arundel looked at his attendant with unmitigated surprise. + +"My cousin Olivia marry Paul Marchmont!" he exclaimed. "You should be +wiser than to listen to such foolish gossip, Morrison. You know what +country people are, and you know they can't keep their tongues quiet." + +Mr. Morrison took this reproach as a compliment to his superior +intelligence. + +"It ain't oftentimes as I listens to their talk, sir," he said; "but if +I've heard this said once, I've heard it twenty times; and I've heard +it at the Black Bull, too, Mr. Edward, where Mr. Marchmont fre_quents_ +sometimes with his sister's husband; and the landlord told me as it had +been spoken of once before his face, and he didn't deny it." + +Edward Arundel pondered gravely over this gossip of the Kemberling +people. It was not so very improbable, perhaps, after all. Olivia only +held Marchmont Towers on sufferance. It might be that, rather than be +turned out of her stately home, she would accept the hand of its +rightful owner. She would marry Paul Marchmont, perhaps, as she had +married his brother,--for the sake of a fortune and a position. She had +grudged Mary her wealth, and now she sought to become a sharer in that +wealth. + +"Oh, the villany, the villany!" cried the soldier. "It is all one base +fabric of treachery and wrong. A marriage between these two will be +only a part of the scheme. Between them they have driven my darling to +her death, and they will now divide the profits of their guilty work." + +The young man determined to discover whether there had been any +foundation for the Kemberling gossip. He had not seen his cousin since +the day of his discovery of the paragraph in the newspaper, and he went +forthwith to the Towers, bent on asking Olivia the straight question as +to the truth of the reports that had reached his ears. + +He walked over to the dreary mansion. He had regained his strength by +this time, and he had recovered his good looks; but something of the +brightness of his youth was gone; something of the golden glory of his +beauty had faded. He was no longer the young Apollo, fresh and radiant +with the divinity of the skies. He had suffered; and suffering had left +its traces on his countenance. That smiling hopefulness, that supreme +confidence in a bright future, which is the virginity of beauty, had +perished beneath the withering influence of affliction. + +Mrs. Marchmont was not to be seen at the Towers. She had gone down to +the boat-house with Mr. Paul Marchmont and Mrs. Weston, the servant +said. + +"I will see them together," Edward Arundel thought. "I will see if my +cousin dares to tell me that she means to marry this man." + +He walked through the wood to the lonely building by the river. The +March winds were blowing among the leafless trees, ruffling the black +pools of water that the rain had left in every hollow; the smoke from +the chimney of Paul Marchmont's painting-room struggled hopelessly +against the wind, and was beaten back upon the roof from which it tried +to rise. Everything succumbed before that pitiless north-easter. + +Edward Arundel knocked at the door of the wooden edifice erected by his +foe. He scarcely waited for the answer to his summons, but lifted the +latch, and walked across the threshold, uninvited, unwelcome. + +There were four people in the painting-room. Two or three seemed to +have been talking together when Edward knocked at the door; but the +speakers had stopped simultaneously and abruptly, and there was a dead +silence when he entered. + +Olivia Marchmont was standing under the broad northern window; the +artist was sitting upon one of the steps leading up to the pavilion; +and a few paces from him, in an old cane-chair near the easel, sat +George Weston, the surgeon, with his wife leaning over the back of his +chair. It was at this man that Edward Arundel looked longest, riveted +by the strange expression of his face. The traces of intense agitation +have a peculiar force when seen in a usually stolid countenance. Your +mobile faces are apt to give an exaggerated record of emotion. We grow +accustomed to their changeful expression, their vivid betrayal of every +passing sensation. But this man's was one of those faces which are only +changed from their apathetic stillness by some moral earthquake, whose +shock arouses the most impenetrable dullard from his stupid +imperturbability. Such a shock had lately affected George Weston, the +quiet surgeon of Kemberling, the submissive husband of Paul Marchmont's +sister. His face was as white as death; a slow trembling shook his +ponderous frame; with one of his big fat hands he pulled a cotton +handkerchief from his pocket, and tremulously wiped the perspiration +from his bald forehead. His wife bent over him, and whispered a few +words in his ear; but he shook his head with a piteous gesture, as if +to testify his inability to comprehend her. It was impossible for a man +to betray more obvious signs of violent agitation than this man +betrayed. + +"It's no use, Lavinia," he murmured hopelessly, as his wife whispered +to him for the second time; "it's no use, my dear; I can't get over +it." + +Mrs. Weston cast one rapid, half-despairing, half-appealing glance at +her brother, and in the next moment recovered herself, by an effort +only such as great women, or wicked women, are capable of. + +"Oh, you men!" she cried, in her liveliest voice; "oh, you men! What +big silly babies, what nervous creatures you are! Come, George, I won't +have you giving way to this foolish nonsense, just because an extra +glass or so of Mrs. Marchmont's very fine old port has happened to +disagree with you. You must not think we are a drunkard, Mr. Arundel," +added the lady, turning playfully to Edward, and patting her husband's +clumsy shoulder as she spoke; "we are only a poor village surgeon, with +a limited income, and a very weak head, and quite unaccustomed to old +light port. Come, Mr. George Weston, walk out into the open air, sir, +and let us see if the March wind will bring you back your senses." + +And without another word Lavinia Weston hustled her husband, who walked +like a man in a dream, out of the painting-room, and closed the door +behind her. + +Paul Marchmont laughed as the door shut upon his brother-in-law. + +"Poor George!" he said, carelessly; "I thought he helped himself to the +port a little too liberally. He never could stand a glass of wine; and +he's the most stupid creature when he is drunk." + +Excellent as all this by-play was, Edward Arundel was not deceived by +it. + +"The man was not drunk," he thought; "he was frightened. What could +have happened to throw him into that state? What mystery are these +people hiding amongst themselves; and what should _he_ have to do with +it?" + +"Good evening, Captain Arundel," Paul Marchmont said. "I congratulate +you on the change in your appearance since you were last in this place. +You seem to have quite recovered the effects of that terrible railway +accident." + +Edward Arundel drew himself up stiffly as the artist spoke to him. + +"We cannot meet except as enemies, Mr. Marchmont," he said. "My cousin +has no doubt told you what I said of you when I discovered the lying +paragraph which you caused to be shown to my wife." + +"I only did what any one else would have done under the circumstances," +Paul Marchmont answered quietly. "I was deceived by a penny-a-liner's +false report. How should I know the effect that report would have upon +my unhappy cousin?" + +"I cannot discuss this matter with you," cried Edward Arundel, his +voice tremulous with passion; "I am almost mad when I think of it. I am +not safe; I dare not trust myself. I look upon you as the deliberate +assassin of a helpless girl; but so skilful an assassin, that nothing +less than the vengeance of God can touch you. I cry aloud to Him night +and day, in the hope that He will hear me and avenge my wife's death. I +cannot look to any earthly law for help: but I trust in God; I put my +trust in God." + +There are very few positive and consistent atheists in this world. Mr. +Paul Marchmont was a philosopher of the infidel school, a student of +Voltaire and the brotherhood of the Encyclopedia, and a believer in +those liberal days before the Reign of Terror, when Frenchmen, in +coffee-houses, discussed the Supreme under the soubriquet of Mons. +l'Etre; but he grew a little paler as Edward Arundel, with kindling +eyes and uplifted hand, declared his faith in a Divine Avenger. + +The sceptical artist may have thought, + +"What if there should be some reality in the creed so many weak fools +confide in? What if there _is_ a God who cannot abide iniquity?" + +"I came here to look for you, Olivia," Edward Arundel said presently. +"I want to ask you a question. Will you come into the wood with me?" + +"Yes, if you wish it," Mrs. Marchmont answered quietly. + +The cousins went out of the painting-room together, leaving Paul +Marchmont alone. They walked on for a few yards in silence. + +"What is the question you came here to ask me?" Olivia asked abruptly. + +"The Kemberling people have raised a report about you which I should +fancy would be scarcely agreeable to yourself," answered Edward. "You +would hardly wish to benefit by Mary's death, would you, Olivia?" + +He looked at her searchingly as he spoke. Her face was at all times so +expressive of hidden cares, of cruel mental tortures, that there was +little room in her countenance for any new emotion. Her cousin looked +in vain for any change in it now. + +"Benefit by her death!" she exclaimed. "How should I benefit by her +death?" + +"By marrying the man who inherits this estate. They say you are going +to marry Paul Marchmont." + +Olivia looked at him with an expression of surprise. + +"Do they say that of me?" she asked. "Do people say that?" + +"They do. Is it true, Olivia?" + +The widow turned upon him almost fiercely. + +"What does it matter to you whether it is true or not? What do you care +whom I marry, or what becomes of me?" + +"I care this much," Edward Arundel answered, "that I would not have +your reputation lied away by the gossips of Kemberling. I should +despise you if you married this man. But if you do not mean to marry +him, you have no right to encourage his visits; you are trifling with +your own good name. You should leave this place, and by that means give +the lie to any false reports that have arisen about you." + +"Leave this place!" cried Olivia Marchmont, with a bitter laugh. "Leave +this place! O my God, if I could; if I could go away and bury myself +somewhere at the other end of the world, and forget,--and forget!" She +said this as if to herself; as if it had been a cry of despair wrung +from her in despite of herself; then, turning to Edward Arundel, she +added, in a quieter voice, "I can never leave this place till I leave +it in my coffin. I am a prisoner here for life." + +She turned from him, and walked slowly away, with her face towards the +dying sunlight in the low western sky. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +EDWARD'S VISITORS. + + +Perhaps no greater sacrifice had ever been made by an English gentleman +than that which Edward Arundel willingly offered up as an atonement for +his broken trust, as a tribute to his lost wife. Brave, ardent, +generous, and sanguine, this young soldier saw before him a brilliant +career in the profession which he loved. He saw glory and distinction +beckoning to him from afar, and turned his back upon those shining +sirens. He gave up all, in the vague hope of, sooner or later, avenging +Mary's wrongs upon Paul Marchmont. + +He made no boast, even to himself, of that which he had done. Again and +again memory brought back to him the day upon which he breakfasted in +Oakley Street, and walked across Waterloo Bridge with the Drury Lane +supernumerary. Every word that John Marchmont had spoken; every look of +the meek and trusting eyes, the pale and thoughtful face; every +pressure of the thin hand which had grasped his in grateful affection, +in friendly confidence,--came back to Edward Arundel after an interval +of nearly ten years, and brought with it a bitter sense of +self-reproach. + +"He trusted his daughter to me," the young man thought. "Those last +words in the poor fellow's letter are always in my mind: 'The only +bequest which I can leave to the only friend I have is the legacy of a +child's helplessness.' And I have slighted his solemn warning: and I +have been false to my trust." + +In his scrupulous sense of honour, the soldier reproached himself as +bitterly for that imprudence, out of which so much evil had arisen, as +another man might have done after a wilful betrayal of his trust. He +could not forgive himself. He was for ever and ever repeating in his +own mind that one brief phase which is the universal chorus of erring +men's regret: "If I had acted differently, if I had done otherwise, +this or that would not have come to pass." We are perpetually wandering +amid the hopeless deviations of a maze, finding pitfalls and +precipices, quicksands and morasses, at every turn in the painful way; +and we look back at the end of our journey to discover a straight and +pleasant roadway by which, had we been wise enough to choose it, we +might have travelled safely and comfortably to our destination. + +But Wisdom waits for us at the goal instead of accompanying us upon our +journey. She is a divinity whom we meet very late in life; when we are +too near the end of our troublesome march to derive much profit from +her counsels. We can only retail them to our juniors, who, not getting +them from the fountain-head, have very small appreciation of their +value. + +The young captain of East Indian cavalry suffered very cruelly from the +sacrifice which he had made. Day after day, day after day, the slow, +dreary, changeless, eventless, and unbroken life dragged itself out; +and nothing happened to bring him any nearer to the purpose of this +monotonous existence; no promise of even ultimate success rewarded his +heroic self-devotion. Afar, he heard of the rush and clamour of war, of +dangers and terror, of conquest and glory. His own regiment was in the +thick of the strife, his brothers in arms were doing wonders. Every +mail brought some new record of triumph and glory. + +The soldier's heart sickened as he read the story of each new +encounter; his heart sickened with that terrible yearning,--that +yearning which seems physically palpable in its perpetual pain; the +yearning with which a child at a hard school, lying broad awake in the +long, gloomy, rush-lit bedchamber in the dead of the silent night, +remembers the soft resting-place of his mother's bosom; the yearning +with which a faithful husband far away from home sighs for the presence +of the wife he loves. Even with such a heart-sickness as this Edward +Arundel pined to be amongst the familiar faces yonder in the East,--to +hear the triumphant yell of his men as they swarmed after him through +the breach in an Affghan wall,--to see the dark heathens blanch under +the terror of Christian swords. + +He read the records of the war again and again, again and again, till +every scene arose before him,--a picture, flaming and lurid, grandly +beautiful, horribly sublime. The very words of those newspaper reports +seemed to blaze upon the paper on which they were written, so palpable +were the images which they evoked in the soldier's mind. He was frantic +in his eager impatience for the arrival of every mail, for the coming +of every new record of that Indian warfare. He was like a devourer of +romances, who reads a thrilling story link by link, and who is +impatient for every new chapter of the fiction. His dreams were of +nothing but battle and victory, danger, triumph, and death; and he +often woke in the morning exhausted by the excitement of those +visionary struggles, those phantom terrors. + +His sabre hung over the chimney-piece in his simple bedchamber. He took +it down sometimes, and drew it from the sheath. He could have almost +wept aloud over that idle sword. He raised his arm, and the weapon +vibrated with a whirring noise as he swept the glittering steel in a +wide circle through the empty air. An infidel's head should have been +swept from his vile carcass in that rapid circle of the keen-edged +blade. The soldier's arm was as strong as ever, his wrist as supple, +his muscular force unwasted by mental suffering. Thank Heaven for that! +But after that brief thanksgiving his arm dropped inertly, and the idle +sword fell out of his relaxing grasp. + +"I seem a craven to myself," he cried; "I have no right to be here--I +have no right to be here while those other fellows are fighting for +their lives out yonder. O God, have mercy upon me! My brain gets dazed +sometimes; and I begin to wonder whether I am most bound to remain here +and watch Paul Marchmont, or to go yonder and fight for my country and +my Queen." + +There were many phases in this mental fever. At one time the young man +was seized with a savage jealousy of the officer who had succeeded to +his captaincy. He watched this man's name, and every record of his +movements, and was constantly taking objection to his conduct. He was +grudgingly envious of this particular officer's triumphs, however +small. He could not feel generously towards this happy successor, in +the bitterness of his own enforced idleness. + +"What opportunities this man has!" he thought; "_I_ never had such +chances." + +It is almost impossible for me to faithfully describe the tortures +which this monotonous existence inflicted upon the impetuous young man. +It is the speciality of a soldier's career that it unfits most men for +any other life. They cannot throw off the old habitudes. They cannot +turn from the noisy stir of war to the tame quiet of every-day life; +and even when they fancy themselves wearied and worn out, and willingly +retire from service, their souls are stirred by every sound of the +distant contest, as the war-steed is aroused by the blast of a trumpet. +But Edward Arundel's career had been cut suddenly short at the very +hour in which it was brightest with the promise of future glory. It was +as if a torrent rushing madly down a mountain-side had been dammed up, +and its waters bidden to stagnate upon a level plain. The rebellious +waters boiled and foamed in a sullen fury. The soldier could not submit +himself contentedly to his fate. He might strip off his uniform, and +accept sordid coin as the price of the epaulettes he had won so dearly; +but he was at heart a soldier still. When he received the sum which had +been raised amongst his juniors as the price of his captaincy, it +seemed to him almost as if he had sold his brother's blood. + +It was summer-time now. Ten months had elapsed since his marriage with +Mary Marchmont, and no new light had been thrown upon the disappearance +of his young wife. No one could feel a moment's doubt as to her fate. +She had perished in that lonely river which flowed behind Marchmont +Towers, and far away down to the sea. + +The artist had kept his word, and had as yet taken no step towards +entering into possession of the estate which he inherited by his +cousin's death. But Mr. Paul Marchmont spent a great deal of time at +the Towers, and a great deal more time in the painting-room by the +river-side, sometimes accompanied by his sister, sometimes alone. + +The Kemberling gossips had grown by no means less talkative upon the +subject of Olivia and the new owner of Marchmont Towers. On the +contrary, the voices that discussed Mrs. Marchmont's conduct were a +great deal more numerous than heretofore; in other words, John +Marchmont's widow was "talked about." Everything is said in this +phrase. It was scarcely that people said bad things of her; it was +rather that they talked more about her than any woman can suffer to be +talked of with safety to her fair fame. They began by saying that she +was going to marry Paul Marchmont; they went on to wonder _whether_ she +was going to marry him; then they wondered _why_ she didn't marry him. +From this they changed the venue, and began to wonder whether Paul +Marchmont meant to marry her,--there was an essential difference in +this new wonderment,--and next, why Paul Marchmont didn't marry her. +And by this time Olivia's reputation was overshadowed by a terrible +cloud, which had arisen no bigger than a man's hand, in the first +conjecturings of a few ignorant villagers. + +People made it their business first to wonder about Mrs. Marchmont, and +then to set up their own theories about her; to which theories they +clung with a stupid persistence, forgetting, as people generally do +forget, that there might be some hidden clue, some secret key, to the +widow's conduct, for want of which the cleverest reasoning respecting +her was only so much groping in the dark. + +Edward Arundel heard of the cloud which shadowed his cousin's name. Her +father heard of it, and went to remonstrate with her, imploring her to +come to him at Swampington, and to leave Marchmont Towers to the new +lord of the mansion. But she only answered him with gloomy, obstinate +reiteration, and almost in the same terms as she had answered Edward +Arundel; declaring that she would stay at the Towers till her death; +that she would never leave the place till she was carried thence in her +coffin. + +Hubert Arundel, always afraid of his daughter, was more than ever +afraid of her now; and he was as powerless to contend against her +sullen determination as he would have been to float up the stream of a +rushing river. + +So Olivia was talked about. She had scared away all visitors, after the +ball at the Towers, by the strangeness of her manner and the settled +gloom in her face; and she lived unvisited and alone in the gaunt stony +mansion; and people said that Paul Marchmont was almost perpetually +with her, and that she went to meet him in the painting-room by the +river. + +Edward Arundel sickened of his wearisome life, and no one helped him to +endure his sufferings. His mother wrote to him imploring him to resign +himself to the loss of his young wife, to return to Dangerfield, to +begin a new existence, and to blot out the memory of the past. + +"You have done all that the most devoted affection could prompt you to +do," Mrs. Arundel wrote. "Come back to me, my dearest boy. I gave you +up to the service of your country because it was my duty to resign you +then. But I cannot afford to lose you now; I cannot bear to see you +sacrificing yourself to a chimera. Return to me; and let me see you +make a new and happier choice. Let me see my son the father of little +children who will gather round my knees when I grow old and feeble." + +"A new and happier choice!" Edward Arundel repeated the words with a +melancholy bitterness. "No, my poor lost girl; no, my blighted wife; I +will not be false to you. The smiles of happy women can have no +sunlight for me while I cherish the memory of the sad eyes that watched +me when I drove away from Milldale, the sweet sorrowful face that I was +never to look upon again." + +The dull empty days succeeded each other, and _did_ resemble each +other, with a wearisome similitude that well-nigh exhausted the +patience of the impetuous young man. His fiery nature chafed against +this miserable delay. It was so hard to have to wait for his vengeance. +Sometimes he could scarcely refrain from planting himself somewhere in +Paul Marchmont's way, with the idea of a hand-to-hand struggle in which +either he or his enemy must perish. + +Once he wrote the artist a desperate letter, denouncing him as an +arch-plotter and villain; calling upon him, if his evil nature was +redeemed by one spark of manliness, to fight as men had been in the +habit of fighting only a few years before, with a hundred times less +reason than these two men had for their quarrel. + +"I have called you a villain and traitor; in India we fellows would +kill each other for smaller words than those," wrote the soldier. "But +I have no wish to take any advantage of my military experience. I may +be a better shot than you. Let us have only one pistol, and draw lots +for it. Let us fire at each other across a dinner-table. Let us do +anything; so that we bring this miserable business to an end." + +Mr. Marchmont read this letter slowly and thoughtfully, more than once; +smiling as he read. + +"He's getting tired," thought the artist. "Poor young man, I thought he +would be the first to grow tired of this sort of work." + +He wrote Edward Arundel a long letter; a friendly but rather facetious +letter; such as he might have written to a child who had asked him to +jump over the moon. He ridiculed the idea of a duel, as something +utterly Quixotic and absurd. + +"I am fifteen years older than you, my dear Mr. Arundel," he wrote, +"and a great deal too old to have any inclination to fight with +windmills; or to represent the windmill which a high-spirited young +Quixote may choose to mistake for a villanous knight, and run his hot +head against in that delusion. I am not offended with you for calling +me bad names, and I take your anger merely as a kind of romantic manner +you have of showing your love for my poor cousin. We are not enemies, +and we never shall be enemies; for I will never suffer myself to be so +foolish as to get into a passion with a brave and generous-hearted +young soldier, whose only error is an unfortunate hallucination with +regard to + +"Your very humble servant, + +"PAUL MARCHMONT." + +Edward ground his teeth with savage fury as he read this letter. + +"Is there no making this man answer for his infamy?" he muttered. "Is +there no way of making him suffer?" + + * * * * * + +June was nearly over, and the year was wearing round to the anniversary +of Edward's wedding-day, the anniversaries of those bright days which +the young bride and bridegroom had loitered away by the trout-streams +in the Hampshire meadows, when some most unlooked-for visitors made +their appearance at Kemberling Retreat. + +The cottage lay back behind a pleasant garden, and was hidden from the +dusty high road by a hedge of lilacs and laburnums which grew within +the wooden fence. It was Edward's habit, in this hot summer-time, to +spend a great deal of his time in the garden; walking up and down the +neglected paths, with a cigar in his mouth; or lolling in an easy chair +on the lawn reading the papers. Perhaps the garden was almost prettier, +by reason of the long neglect which it had suffered, than it would have +been if kept in the trimmest order by the industrious hands of a +skilful gardener. Everything grew in a wild and wanton luxuriance, that +was very beautiful in this summer-time, when the earth was gorgeous +with all manner of blossoms. Trailing branches from the espaliered +apple-trees hung across the pathways, intermingled with roses that had +run wild; and made "bits" that a landscape-painter might have delighted +to copy. Even the weeds, which a gardener would have looked upon with +horror, were beautiful. The wild convolvulus flung its tendrils into +fantastic wreaths about the bushes of sweetbrier; the honeysuckle, +untutored by the pruning-knife, mixed its tall branches with seringa +and clematis; the jasmine that crept about the house had mounted to the +very chimney-pots, and strayed in through the open windows; even the +stable-roof was half hidden by hardy monthly roses that had clambered +up to the thatch. But the young soldier took very little interest in +this disorderly garden. He pined to be far away in the thick jungle, or +on the burning plain. He hated the quiet and repose of an existence +which seemed little better than the living death of a cloister. + +The sun was low in the west at the close of a long midsummer day, when +Mr. Arundel strolled up and down the neglected pathways, backwards and +forwards amid the long tangled grass of the lawn, smoking a cigar, and +brooding over his sorrows. + +He was beginning to despair. He had defied Paul Marchmont, and no good +had come of his defiance. He had watched him, and there had been no +result of his watching. Day after day he had wandered down to the +lonely pathway by the river side; again and again he had reconnoitered +the boat-house, only to hear Paul Marchmont's treble voice singing +scraps out of modern operas as he worked at his easel; or on one or two +occasions to see Mr. George Weston, the surgeon, or Lavinia his wife, +emerge from the artist's painting-room. + +Upon one of these occasions Edward Arundel had accosted the surgeon of +Kemberling, and had tried to enter into conversation with him. But Mr. +Weston had exhibited such utterly hopeless stupidity, mingled with a +very evident terror of his brother-in-law's foe, that Edward had been +fain to abandon all hope of any assistance from this quarter. + +"I'm sure I'm very sorry for you, Mr. Arundel," the surgeon said, +looking, not at Edward, but about and around him, in a hopeless, +wandering manner, like some hunted animal that looks far and near for a +means of escape from his pursuer,--"I'm very sorry for you--and for all +your trouble--and I was when I attended you at the Black Bull--and you +were the first patient I ever had there--and it led to my having many +more--as I may say--though that's neither here nor there. And I'm very +sorry for you, and for the poor young woman too--particularly for the +poor young woman--and I always tell Paul so--and--and Paul--" + +And at this juncture Mr. Weston stopped abruptly, as if appalled by the +hopeless entanglement of his own ideas, and with a brief "Good evening, +Mr. Arundel," shot off in the direction of the Towers, leaving Edward +at a loss to understand his manner. + +So, on this midsummer evening, the soldier walked up and down the +neglected grass-plat, thinking of the men who had been his comrades, +and of the career which he had abandoned for the love of his lost wife. + +He was aroused from his gloomy reverie by the sound of a fresh girlish +voice calling to him by his name. + +"Edward! Edward!" + +Who could there be in Lincolnshire with the right to call to him thus +by his Christian name? He was not long left in doubt. While he was +asking himself the question, the same feminine voice cried out again. + +"Edward! Edward! Will you come and open the gate for me, please? Or do +you mean to keep me out here for ever?" + +This time Mr. Arundel had no difficulty in recognising the familiar +tones of his sister Letitia, whom he had believed, until that moment, +to be safe under the maternal wing at Dangerfield. And lo, here she +was, on horseback at his own gate; with a cavalier hat and feathers +overshadowing her girlish face; and with another young Amazon on a +thorough-bred chestnut, and an elderly groom on a thorough-bred bay, in +the background. + +Edward Arundel, utterly confounded by the advent of such visitors, +flung away his cigar, and went to the low wooden gate beyond which his +sister's steed was pawing the dusty road, impatient of this stupid +delay, and eager to be cantering stablewards through the scented summer +air. + +"Why, Letitia!" cried the young man, "what, in mercy's name, has +brought you here?" + +Miss Arundel laughed aloud at her brother's look of surprise. + +"You didn't know I was in Lincolnshire, did you?" she asked; and then +answered her own question in the same breath: "Of course you didn't, +because I wouldn't let mamma tell you I was coming; for I wanted to +surprise you, you know. And I think I have surprised you, haven't I? I +never saw such a scared-looking creature in all my life. If I were a +ghost coming here in the gloaming, you couldn't look more frightened +than you did just now. I only came the day before yesterday--and I'm +staying at Major Lawford's, twelve miles away from here--and this is +Miss Lawford, who was at school with me at Bath. You've heard me talk +of Belinda Lawford, my dearest, dearest friend? Miss Lawford, my +brother; my brother, Miss Lawford. Are you going to open the gate and +let us in, or do you mean to keep your citadel closed upon us +altogether, Mr. Edward Arundel?" + +At this juncture the young lady in the background drew a little nearer +to her friend, and murmured a remonstrance to the effect that it was +very late, and that they were expected home before dark; but Miss +Arundel refused to hear the voice of wisdom. + +"Why, we've only an hour's ride back," she cried; "and if it should be +dark, which I don't think it will be, for it's scarcely dark all night +through at this time of year, we've got Hoskins with us, and Hoskins +will take care of us. Won't you, Hoskins?" demanded the young lady, +turning to the elderly groom. + +Of course Hoskins declared that he was ready to achieve all that man +could do or dare in the defence of his liege ladies, or something +pretty nearly to that effect; but delivered in a vile Lincolnshire +patois, not easily rendered in printer's ink. + +Miss Arundel waited for no further discussion, but gave her hand to her +brother, and vaulted lightly from her saddle. + +Then, of course, Edward Arundel offered his services to his sister's +companion, and then for the first time he looked in Belinda Lawford's +face, and even in that one first glance saw that she was a good and +beautiful creature, and that her hair, of which she had a great +quantity, was of the colour of her horse's chestnut coat; that her eyes +were the bluest he had ever seen, and that her cheeks were like the +neglected roses in his garden. He held out his hand to her. She took it +with a frank smile, and dismounted, and came in amongst the grass-grown +pathways, amid the confusion of trailing branches and bright +garden-flowers growing wild. + + * * * * * + +In that moment began the second volume of Edward Arundel's life. The +first volume had begun upon the Christmas night on which the boy of +seventeen went to see the pantomime at Drury Lane Theatre. The old +story had been a long, sad story, fall of tenderness and pathos, but +with a cruel and dismal ending. The new story began to-night, in this +fading western sunshine, in this atmosphere of balmy perfume, amidst +these dew-laden garden-flowers growing wild. + + * * * * * + +But, as I think I observed before at the outset of this story, we are +rarely ourselves aware of the commencement of any new section in our +lives. It is only after the fact that we recognise the awful importance +which actions, in themselves most trivial, assume by reason of their +consequences; and when the action, in itself so unimportant, in its +consequences so fatal, has been in any way a deviation from the right, +how bitterly we reproach ourselves for that false step! + +"I am so _glad_ to see you, Edward!" Miss Arundel exclaimed, as she +looked about her, criticising her brother's domain; "but you don't seem +a bit glad to see me, you poor gloomy old dear. And how much better you +look than you did when you left Dangerfield! only a little careworn, +you know, still. And to think of your coming and burying yourself here, +away from all the people who love you, you silly old darling! And +Belinda knows the story, and she's so sorry for you. Ain't you, Linda? +I call her Linda for short, and because it's prettier than _Be_-linda," +added the young lady aside to her brother, and with a contemptuous +emphasis upon the first syllable of her friend's name. + +Miss Lawford, thus abruptly appealed to, blushed, and said nothing. + +If Edward Arundel had been told that any other young lady was +acquainted with the sad story of his married life, I think he would +have been inclined to revolt against the very idea of her pity. But +although he had only looked once at Belinda Lawford, that one look +seemed to have told him a great deal. He felt instinctively that she +was as good as she was beautiful, and that her pity must be a most +genuine and tender emotion, not to be despised by the proudest man upon +earth. + +The two ladies seated themselves upon a dilapidated rustic bench amid +the long grass, and Mr. Arundel sat in the low basket-chair in which he +was wont to lounge a great deal of his time away. + +"Why don't you have a gardener, Ned?" Letitia Arundel asked, after +looking rather contemptuously at the flowery luxuriance around her. + +Her brother shrugged his shoulders with a despondent gesture. + +"Why should I take any care of the place?" he said. "I only took it +because it was near the spot where--where my poor girl--where I wanted +to be. I have no object in beautifying it. I wish to Heaven I could +leave it, and go back to India." + +He turned his face eastward as he spoke, and the two girls saw that +half-eager, half-despairing yearning that was always visible in his +face when he looked to the east. It was over yonder, the scene of +strife, the red field of glory, only separated from him by a patch of +purple ocean and a strip of yellow sand. It was yonder. He could almost +feel the hot blast of the burning air. He could almost hear the shouts +of victory. And he was a prisoner here, bound by a sacred duty,--by a +duty which he owed to the dead. + +"Major Lawford--Major Lawford is Belinda's papa; 33rd Foot--Major +Lawford knew that we were coming here, and he begged me to ask you to +dinner; but I said you wouldn't come, for I knew you had shut yourself +out of all society--though the Major's the dearest creature, and the +Grange is a most delightful place to stay at. I was down here in the +midsummer holidays once, you know, while you were in India. But I give +the message as the Major gave it to me; and you are to come to dinner +whenever you like." + +Edward Arundel murmured a few polite words of refusal. No; he saw no +society; he was in Lincolnshire to achieve a certain object; he should +remain there no longer than was necessary in order for him to do so. + +"And you don't even say that you're glad to see me!" exclaimed Miss +Arundel, with an offended air, "though it's six months since you were +last at Dangerfield! Upon my word, you're a nice brother for an +unfortunate girl to waste her affections upon!" + +Edward smiled faintly at his sister's complaint. + +"I am very glad to see you, Letitia," he said; "very, very glad." + +And indeed the young hermit could not but confess to himself that those +two innocent young faces seemed to bring light and brightness with +them, and to shed a certain transitory glimmer of sunshine upon the +horrible gloom of his life. Mr. Morrison had come out to offer his duty +to the young lady--whom he had been intimate with from a very early +period of her existence, and had carried upon his shoulder some fifteen +years before--under the pretence of bringing wine for the visitors; and +the stable-lad had been sent to a distant corner of the garden to +search for strawberries for their refreshment. Even the solitary +maid-servant had crept into the parlour fronting the lawn, and had +shrouded herself behind the window-curtains, whence she could peep out +at the two Amazons, and gladden her eyes with the sight of something +that was happy and beautiful. + +But the young ladies would not stop to drink any wine, though Mr. +Morrison informed Letitia that the sherry was from the Dangerfield +cellar, and had been sent to Master Edward by his ma; nor to eat any +strawberries, though the stable-boy, who made the air odorous with the +scent of hay and oats, brought a little heap of freshly-gathered fruit +piled upon a cabbage-leaf, and surmounted by a rampant caterpillar of +the woolly species. They could not stay any longer, they both declared, +lest there should be terror at Lawford Grange because of their absence. +So they went back to the gate, escorted by Edward and his confidential +servant; and after Letitia had given her brother a kiss, which +resounded almost like the report of a pistol through the still evening +air, the two ladies mounted their horses, and cantered away in the +twilight. + +"I shall come and see you again, Ned," Miss Arundel cried, as she shook +the reins upon her horse's neck; "and so will Belinda--won't you, +Belinda?" + +Miss Lawford's reply, if she spoke at all, was quite inaudible amidst +the clattering of the horses' hoofs upon the hard highroad. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +ONE MORE SACRIFICE. + + +Letitia Arundel kept her word, and came very often to Kemberling +Retreat; sometimes on horseback, sometimes in a little pony-carriage; +sometimes accompanied by Belinda Lawford, sometimes accompanied by a +younger sister of Belinda's, as chestnut-haired and blue-eyed as +Belinda herself, but at the school-room and bread-and-butter period of +life, and not particularly interesting. Major Lawford came one day with +his daughter and her friend, and Edward and the half-pay officer walked +together up and down the grass-plat, smoking and talking of the Indian +war, while the two girls roamed about the garden amidst the roses and +butterflies, tearing the skirts of their riding-habits every now and +then amongst the briers and gooseberry-bushes. It was scarcely strange +after this visit that Edward Arundel should consent to accept Major +Lawford's invitation to name a day for dining at the Grange; he could +not, with a very good grace, have refused. And yet--and yet--it seemed +to him almost a treason against his lost love, his poor pensive +Mary,--whose face, with the very look it had worn upon that last day, +was ever present with him,--to mix with happy people who had never +known sorrow. But he went to the Grange nevertheless, and grew more and +more friendly with the Major, and walked in the gardens--which were +very large and old-fashioned, but most beautifully kept--with his +sister and Belinda Lawford; with Belinda Lawford, who knew his story +and was sorry for him. He always remembered _that_ as he looked at her +bright face, whose varying expression gave perpetual evidence of a +compassionate and sympathetic nature. + +"If my poor darling had had this girl for a friend," he thought +sometimes, "how much happier she might have been!" + +I dare say there have been many lovelier women in this world than +Belinda Lawford; many women whose faces, considered artistically, came +nearer perfection; many noses more exquisitely chiselled, and scores of +mouths bearing a closer affinity to Cupid's bow; but I doubt if any +face was ever more pleasant to look upon than the face of this blooming +English maiden. She had a beauty that is sometimes wanting in perfect +faces, and, lacking which, the most splendid loveliness will pall at +last upon eyes that have grown weary of admiring; she had a charm for +want of which the most rigidly classical profiles, the most exquisitely +statuesque faces, have seemed colder and harder than the marble it was +their highest merit to resemble. She had the beauty of goodness, and to +admire her was to do homage to the purest and brightest attributes of +womanhood. It was not only that her pretty little nose was straight and +well-shaped, that her lips were rosy red, that her eyes were bluer than +the summer heavens, and her chestnut hair tinged with the golden light +of a setting sun; above and beyond such commonplace beauties as these, +the beauties of tenderness, truth, faith, earnestness, hope and +charity, were enthroned upon her broad white brow, and crowned her +queen by right divine of womanly perfection. A loving and devoted +daughter, an affectionate sister, a true and faithful friend, an +untiring benefactress to the poor, a gentle mistress, a well-bred +Christian lady; in every duty and in every position she bore out and +sustained the impression which her beauty made on the minds of those +who looked upon her. She was only nineteen years of age, and no sorrow +had ever altered the brightness of her nature. She lived a happy life +with a father who was proud of her, and with a mother who resembled her +in almost every attribute. She led a happy but a busy life, and did her +duty to the poor about her as scrupulously as even Olivia had done in +the old days at Swampington Rectory; but in such a genial and cheerful +spirit as to win, not cold thankfulness, but heartfelt love and +devotion from all who partook of her benefits. + +Upon the Egyptian darkness of Edward Arundel's life this girl arose as +a star, and by-and-by all the horizon brightened under her influence. +The soldier had been very little in the society of women. His mother, +his sister Letitia, his cousin Olivia, and John Marchmont's gentle +daughter were the only women whom he had ever known in the familiar +freedom of domestic intercourse; and he trusted himself in the presence +of this beautiful and noble-minded girl in utter ignorance of any +danger to his own peace of mind. He suffered himself to be happy at +Lawford Grange; and in those quiet hours which he spent there he put +away his old life, and forgot the stern purpose that alone held him a +prisoner in England. + +But when he went back to his lonely dwelling-place, he reproached +himself bitterly for that which he considered a treason against his +love. + +"What right have I to be happy amongst these people?" he thought; "what +right have I to take life easily, even for an hour, while my darling +lies in her unhallowed grave, and the man who drove her to her death +remains unpunished? I will never go to Lawford Grange again." + +It seemed, however, as if everybody, except Belinda, was in a plot +against this idle soldier; for sometimes Letitia coaxed him to ride +back with her after one of her visits to Kemberling Retreat, and very +often the Major himself insisted, in a hearty military fashion, upon +the young man's taking the empty seat in his dog-cart, to be driven +over to the Grange. Edward Arundel had never once mentioned Mary's name +to any member of this hospitable and friendly family. They were very +good to him, and were prepared, he knew, to sympathise with him; but he +could not bring himself to talk of his lost wife. The thought of that +rash and desperate act which had ended her short life was too cruel to +him. He would not speak of her, because he would have had to plead +excuses for that one guilty act; and her image to him was so stainless +and pure, that he could not bear to plead for her as for a sinner who +had need of men's pity, rather than a claim to their reverence. + +"Her life had been so sinless," he cried sometimes; "and to think that +it should have ended in sin! If I could forgive Paul Marchmont for all +the rest--if I could forgive him for my loss of her, I would never +forgive him for that." + +The young widower kept silence, therefore, upon the subject which +occupied so large a share of his thoughts, which was every day and +every night the theme of his most earnest prayers; and Mary's name was +never spoken in his presence at Lawford Grange. + +But in Edward Arundel's absence the two girls sometimes talked of the +sad story. + +"Do you really think, Letitia, that your brother's wife committed +suicide?" Belinda asked her friend. + +"Oh, as for that, there can't be any doubt about it, dear," answered +Miss Arundel, who was of a lively, not to say a flippant, disposition, +and had no very great reverence for solemn things; "the poor dear +creature drowned herself. I think she must have been a little wrong in +her head. I don't say so to Edward, you know; at least, I did say so +once when he was at Dangerfield, and he flew into an awful passion, and +called me hard-hearted and cruel, and all sorts of shocking things; so, +of course, I have never said so since. But really, the poor dear +thing's goings-on were so eccentric: first she ran away from her +stepmother and went and hid herself in a horrid lodging; and then she +married Edward at a nasty church in Lambeth, without so much as a +wedding-dress, or a creature to give her away, or a cake, or cards, or +anything Christian-like; and then she ran away again; and as her father +had been a super--what's its name?--a man who carries banners in +pantomimes, and all that--I dare say she'd seen Mr. Macready as Hamlet, +and had Ophelia's death in her head when she ran down to the river-side +and drowned herself. I'm sure it's a very sad story; and, of course, +I'm awfully sorry for Edward." + +The young lady said no more than this; but Belinda brooded over the +story of that early marriage,--the stolen honeymoon, the sudden +parting. How dearly they must have loved each other, the young bride +and bridegroom, absorbed in their own happiness, and forgetful of all +the outer world! She pictured Edward Arundel's face as it must have +been before care and sorrow had blotted out the brightest attribute of +his beauty. She thought of him, and pitied him, with such tender +sympathy, that by-and-by the thought of this young man's sorrow seemed +to shut almost every idea out of her mind. She went about all her +duties still, cheerfully and pleasantly, as it was her nature to do +everything; but the zest with which she had performed every loving +office--every act of sweet benevolence, seemed lost to her now. + +Remember that she was a simple country damsel, leading a quiet life, +whose peaceful course was almost as calm and eventless as the existence +of a cloister; a life so quiet that a decently-written romance from the +Swampington book-club was a thing to be looked forward to with +impatience, to read with breathless excitement, and to brood upon +afterwards for months. Was it strange, then, that this romance in real +life--this sweet story of love and devotion, with its sad climax,--this +story, the scene of which lay within a few miles of her home, the hero +of which was her father's constant guest,--was it strange that this +story, whose saddest charm was its truth, should make a strong +impression upon the mind of an innocent and unworldly woman, and that +day by day and hour by hour she should, all unconsciously to herself, +feel a stronger interest in the hero of the tale? + +She was interested in him. Alas! the truth must be set down, even if it +has to be in the plain old commonplace words. _She fell in love with +him_. But love in this innocent and womanly nature was so different a +sentiment to that which had raged in Olivia's stormy breast, that even +she who felt it was unconscious of its gradual birth. It was not "an +Adam at its birth," by-the-by. It did not leap, Minerva-like, from the +brain; for I believe that love is born of the brain oftener than of the +heart, being a strange compound of ideality, benevolence, and +veneration. It came rather like the gradual dawning of a summer's +day,--first a little patch of light far away in the east, very faint +and feeble; then a slow widening of the rosy brightness; and at last a +great blaze of splendour over all the width of the vast heavens. And +then Miss Lawford grew more reserved in her intercourse with her +friend's brother. Her frank good-nature gave place to a timid, +shrinking bashfulness, that made her ten times more fascinating than +she had been before. She was so very young, and had mixed so little +with the world, that she had yet to learn the comedy of life. She had +yet to learn to smile when she was sorry, or to look sorrowful when she +was pleased, as prudence might dictate--to blush at will, or to grow +pale when it was politic to sport the lily tint. She was a natural, +artless, spontaneous creature; and she was utterly powerless to conceal +her emotions, or to pretend a sentiment she did not feel. She blushed +rosy red when Edward Arundel spoke to her suddenly. She betrayed +herself by a hundred signs; mutely confessing her love almost as +artlessly as Mary had revealed her affection a twelvemonth before. But +if Edward saw this, he gave no sign of having made the discovery. His +voice, perhaps, grew a little lower and softer in its tone when he +spoke to Belinda; but there was a sad cadence in that low voice, which +was too mournful for the accent of a lover. Sometimes, when his eyes +rested for a moment on the girl's blushing face, a shadow would darken +his own, and a faint quiver of emotion stir his lower lip; but it is +impossible to say what this emotion may have been. Belinda hoped +nothing, expected nothing. I repeat, that she was unconscious of the +nature of her own feeling; and she had never for a moment thought of +Edward otherwise than as a man who would go to his grave faithful to +that sad love-story which had blighted the promise of his youth. She +never thought of him otherwise than as Mary's constant mourner; she +never hoped that time would alter his feelings or wear out his +constancy; yet she loved him, notwithstanding. + +All through July and August the young man visited at the Grange, and at +the beginning of September Letitia Arundel went back to Dangerfield. +But even then Edward was still a frequent guest at Major Lawford's; for +his enthusiasm upon all military matters had made him a favourite with +the old officer. But towards the end of September Mr. Arundel's visits +suddenly were restricted to an occasional call upon the Major; he left +off dining at the Grange; his evening rambles in the gardens with Mrs. +Lawford and her blooming daughters--Belinda had no less than four +blue-eyed sisters, all more or less resembling herself--ceased +altogether, to the wonderment of every one in the old-fashioned +country-house. + +Edward Arundel shut out the new light which had dawned upon his life, +and withdrew into the darkness. He went back to the stagnant monotony, +the hopeless despondency, the bitter regret of his old existence. + +"While my sister was at the Grange, I had an excuse for going there," +he said to himself sternly. "I have no excuse now." + +But the old monotonous life was somehow or other a great deal more +difficult to bear than it had been before. Nothing seemed to interest +the young man now. Even the records of Indian victories were "flat, +stale, and unprofitable." He wondered as he remembered with what eager +impatience he had once pined for the coming of the newspapers, with +what frantic haste he had devoured every syllable of the Indian news. +All his old feelings seemed to have gone away, leaving nothing in his +mind but a blank waste, a weary sickness of life and all belonging to +it. Leaving nothing else--positively nothing? "No!" he answered, in +reply to these mute questionings of his own spirit,--"no," he repeated +doggedly, "nothing." + +It was strange to find what a blank was left in his life by reason of +his abandonment of the Grange. It seemed as if he had suddenly retired +from an existence full of pleasure and delight into the gloomy solitude +of La Trappe. And yet what was it that he had lost, after all? A quiet +dinner at a country-house, and an evening spent half in the leafy +silence of an old-fashioned garden, half in a pleasant drawing-room +amongst a group of well-bred girls, and only enlivened by simple +English ballads, or pensive melodies by Mendelssohn. It was not much to +forego, surely. And yet Edward Arundel felt, in sacrificing these new +acquaintances at the Grange to the stern purpose of his life, almost as +if he had resigned a second captaincy for Mary's sake. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +THE CHILD'S VOICE IN THE PAVILION BY THE WATER. + + +The year wore slowly on. Letitia Arundel wrote very long letters to her +friend and confidante, Belinda Lawford, and in each letter demanded +particular intelligence of her brother's doings. Had he been to the +Grange? how had he looked? what had he talked about? &c., &c. But to +these questions Miss Lawford could only return one monotonous reply: +Mr. Arundel had not been to the Grange; or Mr. Arundel had called on +papa one morning, but had only stayed a quarter of an hour, and had not +been seen by any female member of the family. + +The year wore slowly on. Edward endured his self-appointed solitude, +and waited, waited, with a vengeful hatred for ever brooding in his +breast, for the day of retribution. The year wore on, and the +anniversary of the day upon which Mary ran away from the Towers, the +17th of October, came at last. + +Paul Marchmont had declared his intention of taking possession of the +Towers upon the day following this. The twelvemonth's probation which +he had imposed upon himself had expired; every voice was loud in praise +of his conscientious and honourable conduct. He had grown very popular +during his residence at Kemberling. Tenant farmers looked forward to +halcyon days under his dominion; to leases renewed on favourable terms; +to repairs liberally executed; to everything that is delightful between +landlord and tenant. Edward Arundel heard all this through his faithful +servitor, Mr. Morrison, and chafed bitterly at the news. This traitor +was to be happy and prosperous, and to have the good word of honest +men; while Mary lay in her unhallowed grave, and people shrugged their +shoulders, half compassionately, half contemptuously, as they spoke of +the mad heiress who had committed suicide. + +Mr. Morrison brought his master tidings of all Paul Marchmont's doings +about this time. He was to take possession of the Towers on the 19th. +He had already made several alterations in the arrangement of the +different rooms. He had ordered new furniture from +Swampington,--another man would have ordered it from London; but Mr. +Marchmont was bent upon being popular, and did not despise even the +good opinion of a local tradesman,--and by several other acts, +insignificant enough in themselves, had asserted his ownership of the +mansion which had been the airy castle of Mary Marchmont's day-dreams +ten years before. + +The coming-in of the new master of Marchmont Towers was to be, take it +altogether, a very grand affair. The Chorley-Castle foxhounds were to +meet at eleven o'clock, upon the great grass-flat, or lawn, as it was +popularly called, before the western front. The county gentry from far +and near had been invited to a hunting breakfast. Open house was to be +kept all day for rich and poor. Every male inhabitant of the district +who could muster anything in the way of a mount was likely to join the +friendly gathering. Poor Reynard is decidedly England's most powerful +leveller. All differences of rank and station, all distinctions which +Mammon raises in every other quarter, melt away before the friendly +contact of the hunting-field. The man who rides best is the best man; +and the young butcher who makes light of sunk fences, and skims, +bird-like, over bullfinches and timber, may hold his own with the dandy +heir to half the country-side. The cook at Marchmont Towers had enough +to do to prepare for this great day. It was the first meet of the +season, and in itself a solemn festival. Paul Marchmont knew this; and +though the Cockney artist of Fitzroy Square knew about as much of +fox-hunting as he did of the source of the Nile, he seized upon the +opportunity of making himself popular, and determined to give such a +hunting-breakfast as had never been given within the walls of Marchmont +Towers since the time of a certain rackety Hugh Marchmont, who had +drunk himself to death early in the reign of George III. He spent the +morning of the 17th in the steward's room, looking through the +cellar-book with the old butler, selecting the wines that were to be +drunk the following day, and planning the arrangements for the mass of +visitors, who were to be entertained in the great stone entrance-hall, +in the kitchens, in the housekeeper's room, in the servants' hall, in +almost every chamber that afforded accommodation for a guest. + +"You will take care that people get placed according to their rank," +Paul said to the grey-haired servant. "You know everybody about here, I +dare say, and will be able to manage so that we may give no offence." + +The gentry were to breakfast in the long dining-room and in the western +drawing-room. Sparkling hocks and Burgundies, fragrant Moselles, +champagnes of choicest brand and rarest bouquet, were to flow like +water for the benefit of the country gentlemen who should come to do +honour to Paul Marchmont's installation. Great cases of comestibles had +been sent by rail from Fortnum and Mason's; and the science of the cook +at the Towers had been taxed to the utmost, in the struggles which she +made to prove herself equal to the occasion. Twenty-one casks of ale, +every cask containing twenty-one gallons, had been brewed long ago, at +the birth of Arthur Marchmont, and had been laid in the cellar ever +since, waiting for the majority of the young heir who was never to come +of age. This very ale, with a certain sense of triumph, Paul Marchmont +ordered to be brought forth for the refreshment of the commoners. + +"Poor young Arthur!" he thought, after he had given this order. "I saw +him once when he was a pretty boy with fair ringlets, dressed in a suit +of black velvet. His father brought him to my studio one day, when he +came to patronise me and buy a picture of me,--out of sheer charity, of +course, for he cared as much for pictures as I care for foxhounds. _I_ +was a poor relation then, and never thought to see the inside of +Marchmont Towers. It was a lucky September morning that swept that +bright-faced boy out of my pathway, and left only sickly John Marchmont +and his daughter between me and fortune." + +Yes; Mr. Paul Marchmont's year of probation was past. He had asserted +himself to Messrs. Paulette, Paulette, and Mathewson, and before the +face of all Lincolnshire, in the character of an honourable and +high-minded man; slow to seize upon the fortune that had fallen to him, +conscientious, punctilious, generous, and unselfish. He had done all +this; and now the trial was over, and the day of triumph had come. + +There has been a race of villains of late years very popular with the +novel-writer and the dramatist, but not, I think, quite indigenous to +this honest British soil; a race of pale-faced, dark-eyed, and +all-accomplished scoundrels, whose chiefest attribute is +imperturbability. The imperturbable villain has been guilty of every +iniquity in the black catalogue of crimes; but he has never been guilty +of an emotion. He wins a million of money at _trente et quarante_, to +the terror and astonishment of all Homburg; and by not so much as one +twinkle of his eye or one quiver of his lip does that imperturbable +creature betray a sentiment of satisfaction. Ruin or glory, shame or +triumph, defeat, disgrace, or death,--all are alike to the callous +ruffian of the Anglo-Gallic novel. He smiles, and murders while he +smiles, and smiles while he murders. He kills his adversary, unfairly, +in a duel, and wipes his sword on a cambric handkerchief; and withal he +is so elegant, so fascinating, and so handsome, that the young hero of +the novel has a very poor chance against him; and the reader can +scarcely help being sorry when retribution comes with the last chapter, +and some crushing catastrophe annihilates the well-bred scoundrel. + +Paul Marchmont was not this sort of man. He was a hypocrite when it was +essential to his own safety to practice hypocrisy; but he did not +accept life as a drama, in which he was for ever to be acting a part. +Life would scarcely be worth the having to any man upon such terms. It +is all very well to wear heavy plate armour, and a casque that weighs +fourteen pounds or so, when we go into the thick of the fight. But to +wear the armour always, to live in it, to sleep in it, to carry the +ponderous protection about us for ever and ever! Safety would be too +dear if purchased by such a sacrifice of all personal ease. Paul +Marchmont, therefore, being a selfish and self-indulgent man, only wore +his armour of hypocrisy occasionally, and when it was vitally necessary +for his preservation. He had imposed upon himself a penance, and acted +a part in holding back for a year from the enjoyment of a splendid +fortune; and he had made this one great sacrifice in order to give the +lie to Edward Arundel's vague accusations, which might have had an +awkward effect upon the minds of other people, had the artist grasped +too eagerly at his missing cousin's wealth. Paul Marchmont had made +this sacrifice; but he did not intend to act a part all his life. He +meant to enjoy himself, and to get the fullest possible benefit out of +his good fortune. He meant to do this; and upon the 17th of October he +made no effort to restrain his spirits, but laughed and talked joyously +with whoever came in his way, winning golden opinions from all sorts of +men; for happiness is contagious, and everybody likes happy people. + +Forty years of poverty is a long apprenticeship to the very hardest of +masters,--an apprenticeship calculated to give the keenest possible +zest to newly-acquired wealth. Paul Marchmont rejoiced in his wealth +with an almost delirious sense of delight. It was his at last. At last! +He had waited, and waited patiently; and at last, while his powers of +enjoyment were still in their zenith, it had come. How often he had +dreamed of this; how often he had dreamed of that which was to take +place to-morrow! How often in his dreams he had seen the stone-built +mansion, and heard the voices of the crowd doing him honour. He had +felt all the pride and delight of possession, to awake suddenly in the +midst of his triumph, and gnash his teeth at the remembrance of his +poverty. And now the poverty was a thing to be dreamt about, and the +wealth was his. He had always been a good son and a kind brother; and +his mother and sister were to arrive upon the eve of his installation, +and were to witness his triumph. The rooms that had been altered were +those chosen by Paul for his mother and maiden sister, and the new +furniture had been ordered for their comfort. It was one of his many +pleasures upon this day to inspect these apartments, to see that all +his directions had been faithfully carried out, and to speculate upon +the effect which these spacious and luxurious chambers would have upon +the minds of Mrs. Marchmont and her daughter, newly come from shabby +lodgings in Charlotte Street. + +"My poor mother!" thought the artist, as he looked round the pretty +sitting-room. This sitting-room opened into a noble bedchamber, beyond +which there was a dressing-room. "My poor mother!" he thought; "she has +suffered a long time, and she has been patient. She has never ceased to +believe in me; and she will see now that there was some reason for that +belief. I told her long ago, when our fortunes were at the lowest ebb, +when I was painting landscapes for the furniture-brokers at a pound +a-piece,--I told her I was meant for something better than a +tradesman's hack; and I have proved it--I have proved it." + +He walked about the room, arranging the furniture with his own hands; +walking a few paces backwards now and then to contemplate such and such +an effect from an artistic point of view; flinging the rich stuff of +the curtains into graceful folds; admiring and examining everything, +always with a smile on his face. He seemed thoroughly happy. If he had +done any wrong; if by any act of treachery he had hastened Mary +Arundel's death, no recollection of that foul work arose in his breast +to disturb the pleasant current of his thoughts. Selfish and +self-indulgent, only attached to those who were necessary to his own +happiness, his thoughts rarely wandered beyond the narrow circle of his +own cares or his own pleasures. He was thoroughly selfish. He could +have sat at a Lord Mayor's feast with a famine-stricken population +clamouring at the door of the banquet-chamber. He believed in himself +as his mother and sister had believed; and he considered that he had a +right to be happy and prosperous, whosoever suffered sorrow or +adversity. + +Upon this 17th of October Olivia Marchmont sat in the little study +looking out upon the quadrangle, while the household was busied with +the preparations for the festival of the following day. She was to +remain at Marchmont Towers as a guest of the new master of the mansion. +She would be protected from all scandal, Paul had said, by the presence +of his mother and sister. She could retain the apartments she had been +accustomed to occupy; she could pursue her old mode of life. He himself +was not likely to be very much at the Towers. He was going to travel +and to enjoy life now that he was a rich man. + +These were the arguments which Mr. Marchmont used when openly +discussing the widow's residence in his house. But in a private +conversation between Olivia and himself he had only said a very few +words upon the subject. + +"You _must_ remain," he said; and Olivia submitted, obeying him with a +sullen indifference that was almost like the mechanical submission of +an irresponsible being. + +John Marchmont's widow seemed entirely under the dominion of the new +master of the Towers. It was as if the stormy passions which had arisen +out of a slighted love had worn out this woman's mind, and had left her +helpless to stand against the force of Paul Marchmont's keen and +vigorous intellect. A remarkable change had come over Olivia's +character. A dull apathy had succeeded that fiery energy of soul which +had enfeebled and well-nigh worn out her body. There were no outbursts +of passion now. She bore the miserable monotony of her life +uncomplainingly. Day after day, week after week, month after month, +idle and apathetic, she sat in her lonely room, or wandered slowly in +the grounds about the Towers. She very rarely went beyond those +grounds. She was seldom seen now in her old pew at Kemberling Church; +and when her father went to her and remonstrated with her for her +non-attendance, she told him sullenly that she was too ill to go. She +_was_ ill. George Weston attended her constantly; but he found it very +difficult to administer to such a sickness as hers, and he could only +shake his head despondently when he felt her feeble pulse, or listened +to the slow beating of her heart. Sometimes she would shut herself up +in her room for a month at a time, and see no one but her faithful +servant Barbara, and Mr. Weston--whom, in her utter indifference, she +seemed to regard as a kind of domestic animal, whose going or coming +were alike unimportant. + +This stolid, silent Barbara waited upon her mistress with untiring +patience. She bore with every change of Olivia's gloomy temper; she was +a perpetual shield and protection to her. Even upon this day of +preparation and disorder Mrs. Simmons kept guard over the passage +leading to the study, and took care that no one intruded upon her +mistress. At about four o'clock all Paul Marchmont's orders had been +given, and the new master of the house dined for the first time by +himself at the head of the long carved-oak dining-table, waited upon in +solemn state by the old butler. His mother and sister were to arrive by +a train that would reach Swampington at ten o'clock, and one of the +carriages from the Towers was to meet them at the station. The artist +had leisure in the meantime for any other business he might have to +transact. + +He ate his dinner slowly, thinking deeply all the time. He did not stop +to drink any wine after dinner; but, as soon as the cloth was removed, +rose from the table, and went straight to Olivia's room. + +"I am going down to the painting-room," he said. "Will you come there +presently? I want very much to say a few words to you." + +Olivia was sitting near the window, with her hands lying idle in her +lap. She rarely opened a book now, rarely wrote a letter, or occupied +herself in any manner. She scarcely raised her eyes as she answered +him. + +"Yes," she said; "I will come." + +"Don't be long, then. It will be dark very soon. I am not going down +there to paint; I am going to fetch a landscape that I want to hang in +my mother's room, and to say a few words about--" + +He closed the door without stopping to finish the sentence, and went +out into the quadrangle. + +Ten minutes afterwards Olivia Marchmont rose, and taking a heavy +woollen shawl from a chair near her, wrapped it loosely about her head +and shoulders. + +"I am his slave and his prisoner," she muttered to herself. "I must do +as he bids me." + +A cold wind was blowing in the quadrangle, and the stone pavement was +wet with a drizzling rain. The sun had just gone down, and the dull +autumn sky was darkening. The fallen leaves in the wood were sodden +with damp, and rotted slowly on the swampy ground. + +Olivia took her way mechanically along the narrow pathway leading to +the river. Half-way between Marchmont Towers and the boat-house she +came suddenly upon the figure of a man walking towards her through the +dusk. This man was Edward Arundel. + +The two cousins had not met since the March evening upon which Edward +had gone to seek the widow in Paul Marchmont's painting-room. Olivia's +pale face grew whiter as she recognised the soldier. + +"I was coming to the house to speak to you, Mrs. Marchmont," Edward +said sternly. "I am lucky in meeting you here, for I don't want any one +to overhear what I've got to say." + +He had turned in the direction in which Olivia had been walking; but +she made a dead stop, and stood looking at him. + +"You were going to the boat-house," he said. "I will go there with +you." + +She looked at him for a moment, as if doubtful what to do, and then +said, + +"Very well. You can say what you have to say to me, and then leave me. +There is no sympathy between us, there is no regard between us; we are +only antagonists." + +"I hope not, Olivia. I hope there is some spark of regard still, in +spite of all. I separate you in my own mind from Paul Marchmont. I pity +you; for I believe you to be his tool." + +"Is this what you have to say to me?" + +"No; I came here, as your kinsman, to ask you what you mean to do now +that Paul Marchmont has taken possession of the Towers?" + +"I mean to stay there." + +"In spite of the gossip that your remaining will give rise to amongst +these country-people!" + +"In spite of everything. Mr. Marchmont wishes me to stay. It suits me +to stay. What does it matter what people say of me? What do I care for +any one's opinion--now?" + +"Olivia," cried the young man, "are you mad?" + +"Perhaps I am," she answered, coldly. + +"Why is it that you shut yourself from the sympathy of those who have a +right to care for you? What is the mystery of your life?" + +His cousin laughed bitterly. + +"Would you like to know, Edward Arundel?" she said. "You _shall_ know, +perhaps, some day. You have despised me all my life; you will despise +me more then." + +They had reached Paul Marchmont's painting-room by this time. Olivia +opened the door and walked in, followed by Edward. Paul was not there. +There was a picture covered with green-baize upon the easel, and the +artist's hat stood upon the table amidst the litter of brushes and +palettes; but the room was empty. The door at the top of the stone +steps leading to the pavilion was ajar. + +"Have you anything more to say to me?" Olivia asked, turning upon her +cousin as if she would have demanded why he had followed her. + +"Only this: I want to know your determination; whether you will be +advised by me--and by your father,--I saw my uncle Hubert this morning, +and his opinion exactly coincides with mine,--or whether you mean +obstinately to take your own course in defiance of everybody?" + +"I do," Olivia answered. "I shall take my own course. I defy everybody. +I have not been gifted with the power of winning people's affection. +Other women possess that power, and trifle with it, and turn it to bad +account. I have prayed, Edward Arundel,--yes, I have prayed upon my +knees to the God who made me, that He would give me some poor measure +of that gift which Nature has lavished upon other women; but He would +not hear me, He would not hear me! I was not made to be loved. Why, +then, should I make myself a slave for the sake of winning people's +esteem? If they have despised me, I can despise them." + +"Who has despised you, Olivia?" Edward asked, perplexed by his cousin's +manner. + +"YOU HAVE!" she cried, with flashing eyes; "you have! From first to +last--from first to last!" She turned away from him impatiently. "Go," +she said; "why should we keep up a mockery of friendliness and +cousinship? We are nothing to each other." + +Edward walked towards the door; but he paused upon the threshold, with +his hat in his hand, undecided as to what he ought to do. + +As he stood thus, perplexed and irresolute, a cry, the feeble cry of a +child, sounded within the pavilion. + +The young man started, and looked at his cousin. Even in the dusk he +could see that her face had suddenly grown livid. + +"There is a child in that place," he said pointing to the door at the +top of the steps. + +The cry was repeated as he spoke,--the low, complaining wail of a +child. There was no other voice to be heard,--no mother's voice +soothing a helpless little one. The cry of the child was followed by a +dead silence. + +"There is a child in that pavilion," Edward Arundel repeated. + +"There is," Olivia answered. + +"Whose child?" + +"What does it matter to you?" + +"Whose child?" + +"I cannot tell you, Edward Arundel." + +The soldier strode towards the steps, but before he could reach them, +Olivia flung herself across his pathway. + +"I will see whose child is hidden in that place," he said. "Scandalous +things have been said of you, Olivia. I will know the reason of your +visits to this place." + +She clung about his knees, and hindered him from moving; half kneeling, +half crouching on the lowest of the stone steps, she blocked his +pathway, and prevented him from reaching the door of the pavilion. It +had been ajar a few minutes ago; it was shut now. But Edward had not +noticed this. + +"No, no, no!" shrieked Olivia; "you shall trample me to death before +you enter that place. You shall walk over my corpse before you cross +that threshold." + +The young man struggled with her for a few moments; then he suddenly +flung her from him; not violently, but with a contemptuous gesture. + +"You are a wicked woman, Olivia Marchmont," he said; "and it matters +very little to me what you do, or what becomes of you. I know now the +secret of the mystery between you and Paul Marchmont. I can guess your +motive for perpetually haunting this place." + +He left the solitary building by the river, and walked slowly back +through the wood. + +His mind--predisposed to think ill of Olivia by the dark rumours he had +heard through his servant, and which had had a certain amount of +influence upon him, as all scandals have, however baseless--could +imagine only one solution to the mystery of a child's presence in the +lonely building by the river. Outraged and indignant at the discovery +he had made, he turned his back upon Marchmont Towers. + +"I will stay in this hateful place no longer," he thought, as he went +back to his solitary home; "but before I leave Lincolnshire the whole +county shall know what I think of Paul Marchmont." + + + + +END OF VOL. II. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of John Marchmont's Legacy, Volume II (of +3), by Mary E. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: John Marchmont's Legacy, Volume II (of 3) + +Author: Mary E. Braddon + +Release Date: December 1, 2010 [EBook #34540] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOHN MARCHMONT'S LEGACY, VOL II *** + + + + +Produced by Clare Graham, using scans from the Internet Archive + + + + +JOHN MARCHMONT'S LEGACY. + + +BY [M.E. Braddon] THE AUTHOR OF +"LADY AUDLEY'S SECRET," +ETC. ETC. ETC. + +IN THREE VOLUMES. + +VOL. II. + + +Published by Tinsley Brothers of London in 1863 (third edition). + + +CONTENTS. + CHAPTER I. MARY'S LETTER. + CHAPTER II. A NEW PROTECTOR. + CHAPTER III. PAUL'S SISTER. + CHAPTER IV. A STOLEN HONEYMOON. + CHAPTER V. SOUNDING THE DEPTHS. + CHAPTER VI. RISEN FROM THE GRAVE. + CHAPTER VII. FACE TO FACE. + CHAPTER VIII. THE PAINTING-ROOM BY THE RIVER. + CHAPTER IX. IN THE DARK. + CHAPTER X. THE PARAGRAPH IN THE NEWSPAPER. + CHAPTER XI. EDWARD ARUNDEL'S DESPAIR. + CHAPTER XII. EDWARD'S VISITORS. + CHAPTER XIII. ONE MORE SACRIFICE. + CHAPTER XIV. THE CHILD'S VOICE IN THE PAVILION BY THE WATER. + + + + + + +JOHN MARCHMONT'S LEGACY. + + +VOLUME II. + + +CHAPTER I. + +MARY'S LETTER. + + +It was past twelve o'clock when Edward Arundel strolled into the +dining-room. The windows were open, and the scent of the mignionette +upon the terrace was blown in upon the warm summer breeze. + +Mrs. Marchmont was sitting at one end of the long table, reading a +newspaper. She looked up as Edward entered the room. She was pale, but +not much paler than usual. The feverish light had faded out of her +eyes, and they looked dim and heavy. + +"Good morning, Livy," the young man said. "Mary is not up yet, I +suppose?" + +"I believe not." + +"Poor little girl! A long rest will do her good after her first ball. +How pretty and fairy-like she looked in her white gauze dress, and with +that circlet of pearls round her hair! Your taste, I suppose, Olivia? +She looked like a snow-drop among all the other gaudy flowers,--the +roses and tiger-lilies, and peonies and dahlias. That eldest Miss +Hickman is handsome, but she's so terribly conscious of her +attractions. That little girl from Swampington with the black ringlets +is rather pretty; and Laura Filmer is a jolly, dashing girl; she looks +you full in the face, and talks to you about hunting with as much gusto +as an old whipper-in. I don't think much of Major Hawley's three tall +sandy-haired daughters; but Fred Hawley's a capital fellow: it's a pity +he's a civilian. In short, my dear Olivia, take it altogether, I think +your ball was a success, and I hope you'll give us another in the +hunting-season." + +Mrs. Marchmont did not condescend to reply to her cousin's meaningless +rattle. She sighed wearily, and began to fill the tea-pot from the +old-fashioned silver urn. Edward loitered in one of the windows, +whistling to a peacock that was stalking solemnly backwards and +forwards upon the stone balustrade. + +"I should like to drive you and Mary down to the seashore, Livy, after +breakfast. Will you go?" + +Mrs. Marchmont shook her head. + +"I am a great deal too tired to think of going out to-day," she said +ungraciously. + +"And I never felt fresher in my life," the young man responded, +laughing; "last night's festivities seem to have revivified me. I wish +Mary would come down," he added, with a yawn; "I could give her another +lesson in billiards, at any rate. Poor little girl, I am afraid she'll +never make a cannon." + +Captain Arundel sat down to his breakfast, and drank the cup of tea +poured out for him by Olivia. Had she been a sinful woman of another +type, she would have put arsenic into the cup perhaps, and so have made +an end of the young officer and of her own folly. As it was, she only +sat by, with her own untasted breakfast before her, and watched him +while he ate a plateful of raised pie, and drank his cup of tea, with +the healthy appetite which generally accompanies youth and a good +conscience. He sprang up from the table directly he had finished his +meal, and cried out impatiently, "What can make Mary so lazy this +morning? she is usually such an early riser." + +Mrs. Marchmont rose as her cousin said this, and a vague feeling of +uneasiness took possession of her mind. She remembered the white face +which had blanched beneath the angry glare of her eyes, the blank look +of despair that had come over Mary's countenance a few hours before. + +"I will go and call her myself," she said. "N--no; I'll send Barbara." +She did not wait to ring the bell, but went into the hall, and called +sharply, "Barbara! Barbara!" + +A woman came out of a passage leading to the housekeeper's room, in +answer to Mrs. Marchmont's call; a woman of about fifty years of age, +dressed in gray stuff, and with a grave inscrutable face, a wooden +countenance that gave no token of its owner's character. Barbara +Simmons might have been the best or the worst of women, a Mrs. Fry or a +Mrs. Brownrigg, for any evidence her face afforded against either +hypothesis. + +"I want you to go up-stairs, Barbara, and call Miss Marchmont," Olivia +said. "Captain Arundel and I have finished breakfast." + +The woman obeyed, and Mrs. Marchmont returned to the dining-room, where +Edward was trying to amuse himself with the "Times" of the previous +day. + +Ten minutes afterwards Barbara Simmons came into the room carrying a +letter on a silver waiter. Had the document been a death-warrant, or a +telegraphic announcement of the landing of the French at Dover, the +well-trained servant would have placed it upon a salver before +presenting it to her mistress. + +"Miss Marchmont is not in her room, ma'am," she said; "the bed has not +been slept on; and I found this letter, addressed to Captain Arundel, +upon the table." + +Olivia's face grew livid; a horrible dread rushed into her mind. Edward +snatched the letter which the servant held towards him. + +"Mary not in her room! What, in Heaven's name, can it mean?" he cried. + +He tore open the letter. The writing was not easily decipherable for +the tears which the orphan girl had shed over it. + +"MY OWN DEAR EDWARD,--I have loved you so dearly and so foolishly, and +you have been so kind to me, that I have quite forgotten how unworthy I +am of your affection. But I am forgetful no longer. Something has +happened which has opened my eyes to my own folly,--I know now that you +did not love me; that I had no claim to your love; no charms or +attractions such as so many other women possess, and for which you +might have loved me. I know this now, dear Edward, and that all my +happiness has been a foolish dream; but do not think that I blame any +one but myself for what has happened. Take my fortune: long ago, when I +was a little girl, I asked my father to let me share it with you. I ask +you now to take it all, dear friend; and I go away for ever from a +house in which I have learnt how little happiness riches can give. Do +not be unhappy about me. I shall pray for you always,--always +remembering your goodness to my dead father; always looking back to the +day upon which you came to see us in our poor lodging. I am very +ignorant of all worldly business, but I hope the law will let me give +you Marchmont Towers, and all my fortune, whatever it may be. Let Mr. +Paulette see this latter part of my letter, and let him fully +understand that I abandon all my rights to you from this day. Good-bye, +dear friend; think of me sometimes, but never think of me sorrowfully. + +"MARY MARCHMONT." + +This was all. This was the letter which the heart-broken girl had +written to her lover. It was in no manner different from the letter she +might have written to him nine years before in Oakley Street. It was as +childish in its ignorance and inexperience; as womanly in its tender +self-abnegation. + +Edward Arundel stared at the simple lines like a man in a dream, +doubtful of his own identity, doubtful of the reality of the world +about him, in his hopeless wonderment. He read the letter line by line +again and again, first in dull stupefaction, and muttering the words +mechanically as he read them, then with the full light of their meaning +dawning gradually upon him. + +Her fortune! He had never loved her! She had discovered her own folly! +What did it all mean? What was the clue to the mystery of this letter, +which had stunned and bewildered him, until the very power of +reflection seemed lost? The dawning of that day had seen their parting, +and the innocent face had been lifted to his, beaming with love and +trust. And now--? The letter dropped from his hand, and fluttered +slowly to the ground. Olivia Marchmont stooped to pick it up. Her +movement aroused the young man from his stupor, and in that moment he +caught the sight of his cousin's livid face. + +He started as if a thunderbolt had burst at his feet. An idea, sudden +as some inspired revelation, rushed into his mind. + +"Read that letter, Olivia Marchmont!" he said. + +The woman obeyed. Slowly and deliberately she read the childish epistle +which Mary had written to her lover. In every line, in every word, the +widow saw the effect of her own deadly work; she saw how deeply the +poison, dropped from her own envenomed tongue, had sunk into the +innocent heart of the girl. + +Edward Arundel watched her with flaming eyes. His tall soldierly frame +trembled in the intensity of his passion. He followed his cousin's eyes +along the lines in Mary Marchmont's letter, waiting till she should +come to the end. Then the tumultuous storm of indignation burst forth, +until Olivia cowered beneath the lightning of her cousin's glance. + +Was this the man she had called frivolous? Was this the boyish +red-coated dandy she had despised? Was this the curled and perfumed +representative of swelldom, whose talk never soared to higher flights +than the description of a day's snipe-shooting, or a run with the +Burleigh fox-hounds? The wicked woman's eyelids drooped over her +averted eyes; she turned away, shrinking from this fearless accuser. + +"This mischief is some of _your_ work, Olivia Marchmont!" Edward +Arundel cried. "It is you who have slandered and traduced me to my dead +friend's daughter! Who else would dare accuse a Dangerfield Arundel of +baseness? who else would be vile enough to call my father's son a liar +and a traitor? It is you who have whispered shameful insinuations into +this poor child's innocent ear! I scarcely need the confirmation of +your ghastly face to tell me this. It is you who have driven Mary +Marchmont from the home in which you should have sheltered and +protected her! You envied her, I suppose,--envied her the thousands +which might have ministered to your wicked pride and ambition;--the +pride which has always held you aloof from those who might have loved +you; the ambition that has made you a soured and discontented woman, +whose gloomy face repels all natural affection. You envied the gentle +girl whom your dead husband committed to your care, and who should have +been most sacred to you. You envied her, and seized the first occasion +upon which you might stab her to the very core of her tender heart. +What other motive could you have had for doing this deadly wrong? None, +so help me Heaven!" + +No other motive! Olivia Marchmont dropped down in a heap on the ground +near her cousin's feet; not kneeling, but grovelling upon the carpeted +floor, writhing convulsively, with her hands twisted one in the other, +and her head falling forward on her breast. She uttered no syllable of +self-justification or denial. The pitiless words rained down upon her +provoked no reply. But in the depths of her heart sounded the echo of +Edward Arundel's words: "The pride which has always held you aloof from +those who might have loved you; . . . a discontented woman, whose +gloomy face repels all natural affection." + +"O God!" she thought, "he might have loved me, then! He _might_ have +loved me, if I could have locked my anguish in my own heart, and smiled +at him and flattered him." + +And then an icy indifference took possession of her. What did it matter +that Edward Arundel repudiated and hated her? He had never loved her. +His careless friendliness had made as wide a gulf between them as his +bitterest hate could ever make. Perhaps, indeed, his new-born hate +would be nearer to love than his indifference had been, for at least he +would think of her now, if he thought ever so bitterly. + +"Listen to me, Olivia Marchmont," the young man said, while the woman +still crouched upon the ground near his feet, self-confessed in the +abandonment of her despair. "Wherever this girl may have gone, driven +hence by your wickedness, I will follow her. My answer to the lie you +have insinuated against me shall be my immediate marriage with my old +friend's orphan child. _He_ knew me well enough to know how far I was +above the baseness of a fortune-hunter, and he wished that I should be +his daughter's husband. I should be a coward and a fool were I to be +for one moment influenced by such a slander as that which you have +whispered in Mary Marchmont's ear. It is not the individual only whom +you traduce. You slander the cloth I wear, the family to which I +belong; and my best justification will be the contempt in which I hold +your infamous insinuations. When you hear that I have squandered Mary +Marchmont's fortune, or cheated the children I pray God she may live to +bear me, it will be time enough for you to tell the world that your +kinsman Edward Dangerfield Arundel is a swindler and a traitor." + +He strode out into the hall, leaving his cousin on the ground; and she +heard his voice outside the dining-room door making inquiries of the +servants. + +They could tell him nothing of Mary's flight. Her bed had not been +slept in; nobody had seen her leave the house; it was most likely, +therefore, that she had stolen away very early, before the servants +were astir. + +Where had she gone? Edward Arundel's heart beat wildly as he asked +himself that question. He remembered how often he had heard of women, +as young and innocent as Mary Marchmont, who had rushed to destroy +themselves in a tumult of agony and despair. How easily this poor +child, who believed that her dream of happiness was for ever broken, +might have crept down through the gloomy wood to the edge of the +sluggish river, to drop into the weedy stream, and hide her sorrow +under the quiet water. He could fancy her, a new Ophelia, pale and pure +as the Danish prince's slighted love, floating past the weird branches +of the willows, borne up for a while by the current, to sink in silence +amongst the shadows farther down the stream. + +He thought of these things in one moment, and in the next dismissed the +thought. Mary's letter breathed the spirit of gentle resignation rather +than of wild despair. "I shall always pray for you; I shall always +remember you," she had written. Her lover remembered how much sorrow +the orphan girl had endured in her brief life. He looked back to her +childish days of poverty and self-denial; her early loss of her mother; +her grief at her father's second marriage; the shock of that beloved +father's death. Her sorrows had followed each other in gloomy +succession, with only narrow intervals of peace between them. She was +accustomed, therefore, to grief. It is the soul untutored by +affliction, the rebellious heart that has never known calamity, which +becomes mad and desperate, and breaks under the first blow. Mary +Marchmont had learned the habit of endurance in the hard school of +sorrow. + +Edward Arundel walked out upon the terrace, and re-read the missing +girl's letter. He was calmer now, and able to face the situation with +all its difficulties and perplexities. He was losing time perhaps in +stopping to deliberate; but it was no use to rush off in reckless +haste, undetermined in which direction he should seek for the lost +mistress of Marchmont Towers. One of the grooms was busy in the stables +saddling Captain Arundel's horse, and in the mean time the young man +went out alone upon the sunny terrace to deliberate upon Mary's letter. + +Complete resignation was expressed in every line of that childish +epistle. The heiress spoke most decisively as to her abandonment of her +fortune and her home. It was clear, then, that she meant to leave +Lincolnshire; for she would know that immediate steps would be taken to +discover her hiding-place, and bring her back to Marchmont Towers. + +Where was she likely to go in her inexperience of the outer world? +where but to those humble relations of her dead mother's, of whom her +father had spoken in his letter to Edward Arundel, and with whom the +young man knew she had kept up an occasional correspondence, sending +them many little gifts out of her pocket-money. These people were small +tenant-farmers, at a place called Marlingford, in Berkshire. Edward +knew their name and the name of the farm. + +"I'll make inquiries at the Kemberling station to begin with," he +thought. "There's a through train from the north that stops at +Kemberling at a little before six. My poor darling may have easily +caught that, if she left the house at five." + +Captain Arundel went back into the hall, and summoned Barbara Simmons. +The woman replied with rather a sulky air to his numerous questions; +but she told him that Miss Marchmont had left her ball-dress upon the +bed, and had put on a gray cashmere dress trimmed with black ribbon, +which she had worn as half-mourning for her father; a black straw +bonnet, with a crape veil, and a silk mantle trimmed with crape. She +had taken with her a small carpet-bag, some linen,--for the +linen-drawer of her wardrobe was open, and the things scattered +confusedly about,--and the little morocco case in which she kept her +pearl ornaments, and the diamond ring left her by her father. + +"Had she any money?" Edward asked. + +"Yes, sir; she was never without money. She spent a good deal amongst +the poor people she visited with my mistress; but I dare say she may +have had between ten and twenty pounds in her purse." + +"She will go to Berkshire," Edward Arundel thought: "the idea of going +to her humble friends would be the first to present itself to her mind. +She will go to her dead mother's sister, and give her all her jewels, +and ask for shelter in the quiet farmhouse. She will act like one of +the heroines in the old-fashioned novels she used to read in Oakley +Street, the simple-minded damsels of those innocent story-books, who +think nothing of resigning a castle and a coronet, and going out into +the world to work for their daily bread in a white satin gown, and with +a string of pearls to bind their dishevelled locks." + +Captain Arundel's horse was brought round to the terrace-steps, as he +stood with Mary's letter in his hand, waiting to hurry away to the +rescue of his sorrowful love. + +"Tell Mrs. Marchmont that I shall not return to the Towers till I bring +her stepdaughter with me," he said to the groom; and then, without +stopping to utter another word, he shook the rein on his horse's neck, +and galloped away along the gravelled drive leading to the great iron +gates of Marchmont Towers. + +Olivia heard his message, which had been spoken in a clear loud voice, +like some knightly defiance, sounding trumpet-like at a castle-gate. +She stood in one of the windows of the dining-room, hidden by the faded +velvet curtain, and watched her cousin ride away, brave and handsome as +any knight-errant of the chivalrous past, and as true as Bayard +himself. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +A NEW PROTECTOR. + + +Captain Arundel's inquiries at the Kemberling station resulted in an +immediate success. A young lady--a young woman, the railway official +called her--dressed in black, wearing a crape veil over her face, and +carrying a small carpet-bag in her hand, had taken a second-class +ticket for London, by the 5.50., a parliamentary train, which stopped +at almost every station on the line, and reached Euston Square at +half-past twelve. + +Edward looked at his watch. It was ten minutes to two o'clock. The +express did not stop at Kemberling; but he would be able to catch it at +Swampington at a quarter past three. Even then, however, he could +scarcely hope to get to Berkshire that night. + +"My darling girl will not discover how foolish her doubts have been +until to-morrow," he thought. "Silly child! has my love so little the +aspect of truth that she _can_ doubt me?" + +He sprang on his horse again, flung a shilling to the railway porter +who had held the bridle, and rode away along the Swampington road. The +clocks in the gray old Norman turrets were striking three as the young +man crossed the bridge, and paid his toll at the little toll-house by +the stone archway. + +The streets were as lonely as usual in the hot July afternoon; and the +long line of sea beyond the dreary marshes was blue in the sunshine. +Captain Arundel passed the two churches, and the low-roofed rectory, +and rode away to the outskirts of the town, where the station glared in +all the brilliancy of new red bricks, and dazzling stuccoed chimneys, +athwart a desert of waste ground. + +The express-train came tearing up to the quiet platform two minutes +after Edward had taken his ticket; and in another minute the clanging +bell pealed out its discordant signal, and the young man was borne, +with a shriek and a whistle, away upon the first stage of his search +for Mary Marchmont. + +It was nearly seven o'clock when he reached Euston Square; and he only +got to the Paddington station in time to hear that the last train for +Marlingford had just started. There was no possibility of his reaching +the little Berkshire village that night. No mail-train stopped within a +reasonable distance of the obscure station. There was no help for it, +therefore, Captain Arundel had nothing to do but to wait for the next +morning. + +He walked slowly away from the station, very much disheartened by this +discovery. + +"I'd better sleep at some hotel up this way," he thought, as he +strolled listlessly in the direction of Oxford Street, "so as to be on +the spot to catch the first train to-morrow morning. What am I to do +with myself all this night, racked with uncertainty about Mary?" + +He remembered that one of his brother officers was staying at the hotel +in Covent Garden where Edward himself stopped, when business detained +him in London for a day or two. + +"Shall I go and see Lucas?" Captain Arundel thought. "He's a good +fellow, and won't bore me with a lot of questions, if he sees I've +something on my mind. There may be some letters for me at E----'s. Poor +little Polly!" + +He could never think of her without something of that pitiful +tenderness which he might have felt for a young and helpless child, +whom it was his duty and privilege to protect and succour. It may be +that there was little of the lover's fiery enthusiasm mingled with the +purer and more tender feelings with which Edward Arundel regarded his +dead friend's orphan daughter; but in place of this there was a +chivalrous devotion, such as woman rarely wins in these degenerate +modern days. + +The young soldier walked through the lamp-lit western streets thinking +of the missing girl; now assuring himself that his instinct had not +deceived him, and that Mary must have gone straight to the Berkshire +farmer's house, and in the next moment seized with a sudden terror that +it might be otherwise: the helpless girl might have gone out into a +world of which she was as ignorant as a child, determined to hide +herself from all who had ever known her. If it should be thus: if, on +going down to Marlingford, he obtained no tidings of his friend's +daughter, what was he to do? Where was he to look for her next? + +He would put advertisements in the papers, calling upon his betrothed +to trust him and return to him. Perhaps Mary Marchmont was, of all +people in this world, the least likely to look into a newspaper; but at +least it would be doing something to do this, and Edward Arundel +determined upon going straight off to Printing-House Square, to draw up +an appeal to the missing girl. + +It was past ten o'clock when Captain Arundel came to this +determination, and he had reached the neighbourhood of Covent Garden +and of the theatres. The staring play-bills adorned almost every +threshold, and fluttered against every door-post; and the young +soldier, going into a tobacconist's to fill his cigar-case, stared +abstractedly at a gaudy blue-and-red announcement of the last dramatic +attraction to be seen at Drury Lane. It was scarcely strange that the +Captain's thoughts wandered back to his boyhood, that shadowy time, far +away behind his later days of Indian warfare and glory, and that he +remembered the December night upon which he had sat with his cousin in +a box at the great patent theatre, watching the consumptive +supernumerary struggling under the weight of his banner. From the box +at Drury Lane to the next morning's breakfast in Oakley Street, was but +a natural transition of thought; but with that recollection of the +humble Lambeth lodging, with the picture of a little girl in a pinafore +sitting demurely at her father's table, and meekly waiting on his +guest, an idea flashed across Edward Arundel's mind, and brought the +hot blood into his face. + +What if Mary had gone to Oakley Street? Was not this even more likely +than that she should seek refuge with her kinsfolk in Berkshire? She +had lived in the Lambeth lodging for years, and had only left that +plebeian shelter for the grandeur of Marchmont Towers. What more +natural than that she should go back to the familiar habitation, dear +to her by reason of a thousand associations with her dead father? What +more likely than that she should turn instinctively, in the hour of her +desolation, to the humble friends whom she had known in her childhood? + +Edward Arundel was almost too impatient to wait while the smart young +damsel behind the tobacconist's counter handed him change for the +half-sovereign which he had just tendered her. He darted out into the +street, and shouted violently to the driver of a passing hansom,--there +are always loitering hansoms in the neighbourhood of Covent +Garden,--who was, after the manner of his kind, looking on any side +rather than that upon which Providence had sent him a fare. + +"Oakley Street, Lambeth," the young man cried. "Double fare if you get +there in ten minutes." + +The tall raw-boned horse rattled off at that peculiar pace common to +his species, making as much noise upon the pavement as if he had been +winning a metropolitan Derby, and at about twenty minutes past nine +drew up, smoking and panting, before the dimly lighted windows of the +Ladies' Wardrobe, where a couple of flaring tallow-candles illuminated +the splendour of a foreground of dirty artificial flowers, frayed satin +shoes, and tarnished gilt combs; a middle distance of blue gauzy +tissue, embroidered with beetles' wings; and a background of greasy +black silk. Edward Arundel flung back the doors of the hansom with a +bang, and leaped out upon the pavement. The proprietress of the Ladies' +Wardrobe was lolling against the door-post, refreshing herself with the +soft evening breezes from the roads of Westminster and Waterloo, and +talking to her neighbour. + +"Bless her pore dear innercent 'art!" the woman was saying; "she's +cried herself to sleep at last. But you never hear any think so pitiful +as she talked to me at fust, sweet love!--and the very picture of my +own poor Eliza Jane, as she looked. You might have said it was Eliza +Jane come back to life, only paler and more sickly like, and not that +beautiful fresh colour, and ringlets curled all round in a crop, as +Eliza Ja--" + +Edward Arundel burst in upon the good woman's talk, which rambled on in +an unintermitting stream, unbroken by much punctuation. + +"Miss Marchmont is here," he said; "I know she is. Thank God, thank +God! Let me see her please, directly. I am Captain Arundel, her +father's friend, and her affianced husband. You remember me, perhaps? I +came here nine years ago to breakfast, one December morning. I can +recollect you perfectly, and I know that you were always good to my +poor friend's daughter. To think that I should find her here! You shall +be well rewarded for your kindness to her. But take me to her; pray +take me to her at once!" + +The proprietress of the wardrobe snatched up one of the candles that +guttered in a brass flat-candlestick upon the counter, and led the way +up the narrow staircase. She was a good lazy creature, and she was so +completely borne down by Edward's excitement, that she could only +mutter disjointed sentences, to the effect that the gentleman had +brought her heart into her mouth, and that her legs felt all of a +jelly; and that her poor knees was a'most giving way under her, and +other incoherent statements concerning the physical effect of the +mental shocks she had that day received. + +She opened the door of that shabby sitting-room upon the first-floor, +in which the crippled eagle brooded over the convex mirror, and stood +aside upon the threshold while Captain Arundel entered the room. A +tallow candle was burning dimly upon the table, and a girlish form lay +upon the narrow horsehair sofa, shrouded by a woollen shawl. + +"She went to sleep about half-an-hour ago, sir," the woman said, in a +whisper; "and she cried herself to sleep, pore lamb, I think. I made +her some tea, and got her a few creases and a French roll, with a bit +of best fresh; but she wouldn't touch nothin', or only a few spoonfuls +of the tea, just to please me. What is it that's drove her away from +her 'ome, sir, and such a good 'ome too? She showed me a diamont ring +as her pore par gave her in his will. He left me twenty pound, pore +gentleman,--which he always acted like a gentleman bred and born; and +Mr. Pollit, the lawyer, sent his clerk along with it and his +compliments,--though I'm sure I never looked for nothink, having always +had my rent faithful to the very minute: and Miss Mary used to bring it +down to me so pretty, and--" + +But the whispering had grown louder by this time, and Mary Marchmont +awoke from her feverish sleep, and lifted her weary head from the hard +horsehair pillow and looked about her, half forgetful of where she was, +and of what had happened within the last eighteen hours of her life. +Her eyes wandered here and there, doubtful as to the reality of what +they looked upon, until the girl saw her lover's figure, tall and +splendid in the humble apartment, a tender half-reproachful smile upon +his face, and his handsome blue eyes beaming with love and truth. She +saw him, and a faint shriek broke from her tremulous lips, as she rose +and fell upon his breast. + +"You love me, then, Edward," she cried; "you do love me!" + +"Yes, my darling, as truly and tenderly as ever woman was loved upon +this earth." + +And then the soldier sat down upon the hard bristly sofa, and with +Mary's head still resting upon his breast, and his strong hand straying +amongst her disordered hair, he reproached her for her foolishness, and +comforted and soothed her; while the proprietress of the apartment +stood, with the brass candlestick in her hand, watching the young +lovers and weeping over their sorrows, as if she had been witnessing a +scene in a play. Their innocent affection was unrestrained by the good +woman's presence; and when Mary had smiled upon her lover, and assured +him that she would never, never, never doubt him again, Captain Arundel +was fain to kiss the soft-hearted landlady in his enthusiasm, and to +promise her the handsomest silk dress that had ever been seen in Oakley +Street, amongst all the faded splendours of silk and satin that +ladies'-maids brought for her consideration. + +"And now my darling, my foolish run-away Polly, what is to be done with +you?" asked the young soldier. "Will you go back to the Towers +to-morrow morning?" + +Mary Marchmont clasped her hands before her face, and began to tremble +violently. + +"Oh, no, no, no!" she cried; "don't ask me to do that, don't ask me to +go back, Edward. I can never go back to that house again, while--" + +She stopped suddenly, looking piteously at her lover. + +"While my cousin Olivia Marchmont lives there," Captain Arundel said +with an angry frown. "God knows it's a bitter thing for me to think +that your troubles should come from any of my kith and kin, Polly. She +has used you very badly, then, this woman? She has been very unkind to +you?" + +"No, no! never before last night. It seems so long ago; but it was only +last night, was it? Until then she was always kind to me. I didn't love +her, you know, though I tried to do so for papa's sake, and out of +gratitude to her for taking such trouble with my education; but one can +be grateful to people without loving them, and I never grew to love +her. But last night--last night--she said such cruel things to me--such +cruel things. O Edward, Edward!" the girl cried suddenly, clasping her +hands and looking imploringly at Captain Arundel, "were the cruel +things she said true? Did I do wrong when I offered to be your wife?" + +How could the young man answer this question except by clasping his +betrothed to his heart? So there was another little love-scene, over +which Mrs. Pimpernel,--the proprietress's name was Pimpernel--wept +fresh tears, murmuring that the Capting was the sweetest young man, +sweeter than Mr. Macready in Claude Melnock; and that the scene +altogether reminded her of that "cutting" episode where the proud +mother went on against the pore young man, and Miss Faucit came out so +beautiful. They are a playgoing population in Oakley Street, and +compassionate and sentimental like all true playgoers. + +"What shall I do with you, Miss Marchmont?" Edward Arundel asked gaily, +when the little love-scene was concluded. "My mother and sister are +away, at a German watering-place, trying some unpronounceable Spa for +the benefit of poor Letty's health. Reginald is with them, and my +father's alone at Dangerfield. So I can't take you down there, as I +might have done if my mother had been at home; I don't much care for +the Mostyns, or you might have stopped in Montague Square. There are no +friendly friars nowadays who will marry Romeo and Juliet at +half-an-hour's notice. You must live a fortnight somewhere, Polly: +where shall it be?" + +"Oh, let me stay here, please," Miss Marchmont pleaded; "I was always +so happy here!" + +"Lord love her precious heart!" exclaimed Mrs. Pimpernel, lifting up +her hands in a rapture of admiration. "To think as she shouldn't have a +bit of pride, after all the money as her pore par come into! To think +as she should wish to stay in her old lodgins, where everythink shall +be done to make her comfortable; and the air back and front is very +'ealthy, though you might not believe it, and the Blind School and +Bedlam hard by, and Kennington Common only a pleasant walk, and +beautiful and open this warm summer weather." + +"Yes, I should like to stop here, please," Mary murmured. Even in the +midst of her agitation, overwhelmed as she was by the emotions of the +present, her thoughts went back to the past, and she remembered how +delightful it would be to go and see the accommodating butcher, and the +greengrocer's daughter, the kind butterman who had called her "little +lady," and the disreputable gray parrot. How delightful it would be to +see these humble friends, now that she was grown up, and had money +wherewith to make them presents in token of her gratitude! + +"Very well, then, Polly," Captain Arundel said, "you'll stay here. And +Mrs.----" + +"Pimpernel," the landlady suggested. + +"Mrs. Pimpernel will take as good care of you as if you were Queen of +England, and the welfare of the nation depended upon your safety. And +I'll stop at my hotel in Covent Garden; and I'll see Richard +Paulette,--he's my lawyer as well as yours, you know, Polly,--and tell +him something of what has happened, and make arrangements for our +immediate marriage." + +"Our marriage!" + +Mary Marchmont echoed her lover's last words, and looked up at him +almost with a bewildered air. She had never thought of an early +marriage with Edward Arundel as the result of her flight from +Lincolnshire. She had a vague notion that she would live in Oakley +Street for years, and that in some remote time the soldier would come +to claim her. + +"Yes, Polly darling, Olivia Marchmont's conduct has made me decide upon +a very bold step. It is evident to me that my cousin hates you; for +what reason, Heaven only knows, since you can have done nothing to +provoke her hate. When your father was a poor man, it was to me he +would have confided you. He changed his mind afterwards, very +naturally, and chose another guardian for his orphan child. If my +cousin had fulfilled this trust, Mary, I would have deferred to her +authority, and would have held myself aloof until your minority was +passed, rather than ask you to marry me without your stepmother's +consent. But Olivia Marchmont has forfeited her right to be consulted +in this matter. She has tortured you and traduced me by her poisonous +slander. If you believe in me, Mary, you will consent to be my wife. My +justification lies in the future. You will not find that I shall sponge +upon your fortune, my dear, or lead an idle life because my wife is a +rich woman." + +Mary Marchmont looked up with shy tenderness at her lover. + +"I would rather the fortune were yours than mine, Edward," she said. "I +will do whatever you wish; I will be guided by you in every thing." + +It was thus that John Marchmont's daughter consented to become the wife +of the man she loved, the man whose image she had associated since her +childhood with all that was good and beautiful in mankind. She knew +none of those pretty stereotyped phrases, by means of which well-bred +young ladies can go through a graceful fencing-match of hesitation and +equivocation, to the anguish of a doubtful and adoring suitor. She had +no notion of that delusive negative, that bewitching feminine "no," +which is proverbially understood to mean "yes." Weary courses of Roman +Emperors, South-Sea Islands, Sidereal Heavens, Tertiary and Old Red +Sandstone, had very ill-prepared this poor little girl for the stern +realities of life. + +"I will be guided by you, dear Edward," she said; "my father wished me +to be your wife; and if I did not love you, it would please me to obey +him." + +It was eleven o'clock when Captain Arundel left Oakley Street. The +hansom had been waiting all the time, and the driver, seeing that his +fare was young, handsome, dashing, and what he called +"milingtary-like," demanded an enormous sum when he landed the soldier +before the portico of the hotel in Covent Garden. + +Edward took a hasty breakfast the next morning, and then hurried off to +Lincoln's-Inn Fields. But here a disappointment awaited him. Richard +Paulette had started for Scotland upon a piscatorial excursion. The +elder Paulette was an octogenarian, who lived in the south of France, +and kept his name in the business as a fiction, by means of which +elderly and obstinate country clients were deluded into the belief that +the solicitor who conducted their affairs was the same legal +practitioner who had done business for their fathers and grandfathers +before them. Mathewson, a grim man, was away amongst the Yorkshire +wolds, superintending the foreclosure of certain mortgages upon a +bankrupt baronet's estate. A confidential clerk, who received clients, +and kept matters straight during the absence of his employers, was very +anxious to be of use to Captain Arundel: but it was not likely that +Edward could sit down and pour his secrets into the bosom of a clerk, +however trustworthy a personage that employe might be. + +The young man's desire had been that his marriage with Mary Marchmont +should take place at least with the knowledge and approbation of her +dead father's lawyer: but he was impatient to assume the only title by +which he might have a right to be the orphan girl's champion and +protector; and he had therefore no inclination to wait until the long +vacation was over, and Messrs. Paulette and Mathewson returned from +their northern wanderings. Again, Mary Marchmont suffered from a +continual dread that her stepmother would discover the secret of her +humble retreat, and would follow her and reassume authority over her. + +"Let me be your wife before I see her again, Edward," the girl pleaded +innocently, when this terror was uppermost in her mind. "She could not +say cruel things to me if I were your wife. I know it is wicked to be +so frightened of her; because she was always good to me until that +night: but I cannot tell you how I tremble at the thought of being +alone with her at Marchmont Towers. I dream sometimes that I am with +her in the gloomy old house, and that we two are alone there, even the +servants all gone, and you far away in India, Edward,--at the other end +of the world." + +It was as much as her lover could do to soothe and reassure the +trembling girl when these thoughts took possession of her. Had he been +less sanguine and impetuous, less careless in the buoyancy of his +spirits, Captain Arundel might have seen that Mary's nerves had been +terribly shaken by the scene between her and Olivia, and all the +anguish which had given rise to her flight from Marchmont Towers. The +girl trembled at every sound. The shutting of a door, the noise of a +cab stopping in the street below, the falling of a book from the table +to the floor, startled her almost as much as if a gunpowder-magazine +had exploded in the neighbourhood. The tears rose to her eyes at the +slightest emotion. Her mind was tortured by vague fears, which she +tried in vain to explain to her lover. Her sleep was broken by dismal +dreams, foreboding visions of shadowy evil. + +For a little more than a fortnight Edward Arundel visited his betrothed +daily in the shabby first-floor in Oakley Street, and sat by her side +while she worked at some fragile scrap of embroidery, and talked gaily +to her of the happy future; to the intense admiration of Mrs. +Pimpernel, who had no greater delight than to assist in the pretty +little sentimental drama that was being enacted on her first-floor. + +Thus it was that, on a cloudy and autumnal August morning, Edward +Arundel and Mary Marchmont were married in a great empty-looking church +in the parish of Lambeth, by an indifferent curate, who shuffled +through the service at railroad speed, and with far less reverence for +the solemn rite than he would have displayed had he known that the +pale-faced girl kneeling before the altar-rails was undisputed mistress +of eleven thousand a-year. Mrs. Pimpernel, the pew-opener, and the +registrar who was in waiting in the vestry, and was beguiled thence to +give away the bride, were the only witnesses to this strange wedding. +It seemed a dreary ceremonial to Mrs. Pimpernel, who had been married +at the same church five-and-twenty years before, in a cinnamon satin +spencer, and a coal-scuttle bonnet, and with a young person in the +dressmaking line in attendance upon her as bridesmaid. + +It _was_ rather a dreary wedding, no doubt. The drizzling rain dripped +ceaselessly in the street without, and there was a smell of damp +plaster in the great empty church. The melancholy street-cries sounded +dismally from the outer world, while the curate was hurrying through +those portentous words which were to unite Edward Arundel and Mary +Marchmont until the final day of earthly separation. The girl clung +shivering to her lover, her husband now, as they went into the vestry +to sign their names in the marriage-register. Throughout the service +she had expected to hear a footstep in the aisle behind her, and Olivia +Marchmont's cruel voice crying out to forbid the marriage. + +"I am your wife now, Edward, am I not?" she said, when she had signed +her name in the register. + +"Yes, my darling, for ever and for ever." + +"And nothing can part us now?" + +"Nothing but death, my dear." + +In the exuberance of his spirits, Edward Arundel spoke of the King of +Terrors as if he had been a mere nobody, whose power to change or mar +the fortunes of mankind was so trifling as to be scarcely worth +mentioning. + +The vehicle in waiting to carry the mistress of Marchmont Towers upon +the first stage of her bridal tour was nothing better than a hack cab. +The driver's garments exhaled stale tobacco-smoke in the moist +atmosphere, and in lieu of the flowers which are wont to bestrew the +bridal path of an heiress, Miss Marchmont trod upon damp and mouldy +straw. But she was happy,--happy, with a fearful apprehension that her +happiness could not be real,--a vague terror of Olivia's power to +torture and oppress her, which even the presence of her lover-husband +could not altogether drive away. She kissed Mrs. Pimpernel, who stood +upon the edge of the pavement, crying bitterly, with the slippery white +lining of a new silk dress, which Edward Arundel had given her for the +wedding, gathered tightly round her. + +"God bless you, my dear!" cried the honest dealer in frayed satins and +tumbled gauzes; "I couldn't take this more to heart if you was my own +Eliza Jane going away with the young man as she was to have married, +and as is now a widower with five children, two in arms, and the +youngest brought up by hand. God bless your pretty face, my dear; and +oh, pray take care of her, Captain Arundel, for she's a tender flower, +sir, and truly needs your care. And it's but a trifle, my own sweet +young missy, for the acceptance of such as you, but it's given from a +full heart, and given humbly." + +The latter part of Mrs. Pimpernel's speech bore relation to a hard +newspaper parcel, which she dropped into Mary's lap. Mrs. Arundel +opened the parcel presently, when she had kissed her humble friend for +the last time, and the cab was driving towards Nine Elms, and found +that Mrs. Pimpernel's wedding-gift was a Scotch shepherdess in china, +with a great deal of gilding about her tartan garments, very red legs, +a hat and feathers, and a curly sheep. Edward put this article of +_virtu_ very carefully away in his carpet-bag; for his bride would not +have the present treated with any show of disrespect. + +"How good of her to give it me!" Mary said; "it used to stand upon the +back-parlour chimney-piece when I was a little girl; and I was so fond +of it. Of course I am not fond of Scotch shepherdesses now, you know, +dear; but how should Mrs. Pimpernel know that? She thought it would +please me to have this one." + +"And you'll put it in the western drawing-room at the Towers, won't +you, Polly?" Captain Arundel asked, laughing. + +"I won't put it anywhere to be made fun of, sir," the young bride +answered, with some touch of wifely dignity; "but I'll take care of it, +and never have it broken or destroyed; and Mrs. Pimpernel shall see it, +when she comes to the Towers,--if I ever go back there," she added, +with a sudden change of manner. + +"_If_ you ever go back there!" cried Edward. "Why, Polly, my dear, +Marchmont Towers is your own house. My cousin Olivia is only there upon +sufferance, and her own good sense will tell her she has no right to +stay there, when she ceases to be your friend and protectress. She is a +proud woman, and her pride will surely never suffer her to remain where +she must feel she can be no longer welcome." + +The young wife's face turned white with terror at her husband's words. + +"But I could never ask her to go, Edward," she said. "I wouldn't turn +her out for the world. She may stay there for ever if she likes. I +never have cared for the place since papa's death; and I couldn't go +back while she is there, I'm so frightened of her, Edward, I'm so +frightened of her." + +The vague apprehension burst forth in this childish cry. Edward Arundel +clasped his wife to his breast, and bent over her, kissing her pale +forehead, and murmuring soothing words, as he might have done to a +child. + +"My dear, my dear," he said, "my darling Mary, this will never do; my +own love, this is so very foolish." + +"I know, I know, Edward; but I can't help it, I can't indeed; I was +frightened of her long ago; frightened of her even the first day I saw +her, the day you took me to the Rectory. I was frightened of her when +papa first told me he meant to marry her; and I am frightened of her +now; even now that I am your wife, Edward, I'm frightened of her +still." + +Captain Arundel kissed away the tears that trembled on his wife's +eyelids; but she had scarcely grown quite composed even when the cab +stopped at the Nine Elms railway station. It was only when she was +seated in the carriage with her husband, and the rain cleared away as +they advanced farther into the heart of the pretty pastoral country, +that the bride's sense of happiness and safety in her husband's +protection, returned to her. But by that time she was able to smile in +his face, and to look forward with delight to a brief sojourn in that +pretty Hampshire village, which Edward had chosen for the scene of his +honeymoon. + +"Only a few days of quiet happiness, Polly," he said; "a few days of +utter forgetfulness of all the world except you; and then I must be a +man of business again, and write to your stepmother and my father and +mother, and Messrs. Paulette and Mathewson, and all the people who +ought to know of our marriage." + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +PAUL'S SISTER. + + +Olivia Marchmont shut herself once more in her desolate chamber, making +no effort to find the runaway mistress of the Towers; indifferent as to +what the slanderous tongues of her neighbours might say of her; +hardened, callous, desperate. + +To her father, and to any one else who questioned her about Mary's +absence,--for the story of the girl's flight was soon whispered abroad, +the servants at the Towers having received no injunctions to keep the +matter secret,--Mrs. Marchmont replied with such an air of cold and +determined reserve as kept the questioners at bay ever afterwards. + +So the Kemberling people, and the Swampington people, and all the +country gentry within reach of Marchmont Towers, had a mystery and a +scandal provided for them, which afforded ample scope for repeated +discussion, and considerably relieved the dull monotony of their lives. +But there were some questioners whom Mrs. Marchmont found it rather +difficult to keep at a distance; there were some intruders who dared to +force themselves upon the gloomy woman's solitude, and who _would_ not +understand that their presence was abhorrent to her. + +These people were a surgeon and his wife, who had newly settled at +Kemberling; the best practice in the village falling into the market by +reason of the death of a steady-going, gray-headed old practitioner, +who for many years had shared with one opponent the responsibility of +watching over the health of the Lincolnshire village. + +It was about three weeks after Mary Marchmont's flight when these +unwelcome guests first came to the Towers. + +Olivia sat alone in her dead husband's study,--the same room in which +she had sat upon the morning of John Marchmont's funeral,--a dark and +gloomy chamber, wainscoted with blackened oak, and lighted only by a +massive stone-framed Tudor window looking out into the quadrangle, and +overshadowed by that cloistered colonnade beneath whose shelter Edward +and Mary had walked upon the morning of the girl's flight. This +wainscoted study was an apartment which most women, having all the +rooms in Marchmont Towers at their disposal, would have been likely to +avoid; but the gloom of the chamber harmonised with that horrible gloom +which had taken possession of Olivia's soul, and the widow turned from +the sunny western front, as she turned from all the sunlight and +gladness in the universe, to come here, where the summer radiance +rarely crept through the diamond-panes of the window, where the shadow +of the cloister shut out the glory of the blue sky. + +She was sitting in this room,--sitting near the open window, in a +high-backed chair of carved and polished oak, with her head resting +against the angle of the embayed window, and her handsome profile +thrown into sharp relief by the dark green-cloth curtain, which hung in +straight folds from the low ceiling to the ground, and made a sombre +background to the widow's figure. Mrs. Marchmont had put away all the +miserable gew-gaws and vanities which she had ordered from London in a +sudden excess of folly or caprice, and had reassumed her mourning-robes +of lustreless black. She had a book in her hand,--some new and popular +fiction, which all Lincolnshire was eager to read; but although her +eyes were fixed upon the pages before her, and her hand mechanically +turned over leaf after leaf at regular intervals of time, the +fashionable romance was only a weary repetition of phrases, a dull +current of words, always intermingled with the images of Edward Arundel +and Mary Marchmont, which arose out of every page to mock the hopeless +reader. + +Olivia flung the book away from her at last, with a smothered cry of +rage. + +"Is there no cure for this disease?" she muttered. "Is there no relief +except madness or death?" + +But in the infidelity which had arisen out of her despair this woman +had grown to doubt if either death or madness could bring her oblivion +of her anguish. She doubted the quiet of the grave; and half-believed +that the torture of jealous rage and slighted love might mingle even +with that silent rest, haunting her in her coffin, shutting her out of +heaven, and following her into a darker world, there to be her torment +everlastingly. There were times when she thought madness must mean +forgetfulness; but there were other moments when she shuddered, +horror-stricken, at the thought that, in the wandering brain of a mad +woman, the image of that grief which had caused the shipwreck of her +senses might still hold its place, distorted and exaggerated,--a +gigantic unreality, ten thousand times more terrible than the truth. +Remembering the dreams which disturbed her broken sleep,--those dreams +which, in their feverish horror, were little better than intervals of +delirium,--it is scarcely strange if Olivia Marchmont thought thus. + +She had not succumbed without many struggles to her sin and despair. +Again and again she had abandoned herself to the devils at watch to +destroy her, and again and again she had tried to extricate her soul +from their dreadful power; but her most passionate endeavours were in +vain. Perhaps it was that she did not strive aright; it was for this +reason, surely, that she failed so utterly to arise superior to her +despair; for otherwise that terrible belief attributed to the +Calvinists, that some souls are foredoomed to damnation, would be +exemplified by this woman's experience. She could not forget. She could +not put away the vengeful hatred that raged like an all-devouring fire +in her breast, and she cried in her agony, "There is no cure for this +disease!" + +I think her mistake was in this, that she did not go to the right +Physician. She practised quackery with her soul, as some people do with +their bodies; trying their own remedies, rather than the simple +prescriptions of the Divine Healer of all woes. Self-reliant, and +scornful of the weakness against which her pride revolted, she trusted +to her intellect and her will to lift her out of the moral slough into +which her soul had gone down. She said: + +"I am not a woman to go mad for the love of a boyish face; I am not a +woman to die for a foolish fancy, which the veriest schoolgirl might be +ashamed to confess to her companion. I am not a woman to do this, and I +_will_ cure myself of my folly." + +Mrs. Marchmont made an effort to take up her old life, with its dull +round of ceaseless duty, its perpetual self-denial. If she had been a +Roman Catholic, she would have gone to the nearest convent, and prayed +to be permitted to take such vows as might soonest set a barrier +between herself and the world; she would have spent the long weary days +in perpetual and secret prayer; she would have worn deeper indentations +upon the stones already hollowed by faithful knees. As it was, she made +a routine of penance for herself, after her own fashion: going long +distances on foot to visit her poor, when she might have ridden in her +carriage; courting exposure to rain and foul weather; wearing herself +out with unnecessary fatigue, and returning footsore to her desolate +home, to fall fainting into the strong arms of her grim attendant, +Barbara. + +But this self-appointed penance could not shut Edward Arundel and Mary +Marchmont from the widow's mind. Walking through a fiery furnace their +images would have haunted her still, vivid and palpable even in the +agony of death. The fatigue of the long weary walks made Mrs. Marchmont +wan and pale; the exposure to storm and rain brought on a tiresome, +hacking cough, which worried her by day and disturbed her fitful +slumbers by night. No good whatever seemed to come of her endeavours; +and the devils who rejoiced at her weakness and her failure claimed her +as their own. They claimed her as their own; and they were not without +terrestrial agents, working patiently in their service, and ready to +help in securing their bargain. + +The great clock in the quadrangle had struck the half-hour after three; +the atmosphere of the August afternoon was sultry and oppressive. Mrs. +Marchmont had closed her eyes after flinging aside her book, and had +fallen into a doze: her nights were broken and wakeful, and the hot +stillness of the day had made her drowsy. + +She was aroused from this half-slumber by Barbara Simmons, who came +into the room carrying two cards upon a salver,--the same old-fashioned +and emblazoned salver upon which Paul Marchmont's card had been brought +to the widow nearly three years before. The Abigail stood halfway +between the door and the window by which the widow sat, looking at her +mistress's face with a glance of sharp scrutiny. + +"She's changed since he came back, and changed again since he went +away," the woman thought; "just as she always changed at the Rectory at +his coming and going. Why didn't he take to her, I wonder? He might +have known her fancy for him, if he'd had eyes to watch her face, or +ears to listen to her voice. She's handsomer than the other one, and +cleverer in book-learning; but she keeps 'em off--she seems allers to +keep 'em off." + +I think Olivia Marchmont would have torn the very heart out of this +waiting-woman's breast, had she known the thoughts that held a place in +it: had she known that the servant who attended upon her, and took +wages from her, dared to pluck out her secret, and to speculate upon +her suffering. + +The widow awoke suddenly, and looked up with an impatient frown. She +had not been awakened by the opening of the door, but by that +unpleasant sensation which almost always reveals the presence of a +stranger to a sleeper of nervous temperament. + +"What is it, Barbara?" she asked; and then, as her eyes rested on the +cards, she added, angrily, "Haven't I told you that I would not see any +callers to-day? I am worn out with my cough, and feel too ill to see +any one." + +"Yes, Miss Livy," the woman answered;--she called her mistress by this +name still, now and then, so familiar had it grown to her during the +childhood and youth of the Rector's daughter;--"I didn't forget that, +Miss Livy: I told Richardson you was not to be disturbed. But the lady +and gentleman said, if you saw what was wrote upon the back of one of +the cards, you'd be sure to make an exception in their favour. I think +that was what the lady said. She's a middle-aged lady, very talkative +and pleasant-mannered," added the grim Barbara, in nowise relaxing the +stolid gravity of her own manner as she spoke. + +Olivia snatched the cards from the salver. + +"Why do people worry me so?" she cried, impatiently. "Am I not to be +allowed even five minutes' sleep without being broken in upon by some +intruder or other?" + +Barbara Simmons looked at her mistress's face. Anxiety and sadness +dimly showed themselves in the stolid countenance of the lady's-maid. A +close observer, penetrating below that aspect of wooden solemnity which +was Barbara's normal expression, might have discovered a secret: the +quiet waiting-woman loved her mistress with a jealous and watchful +affection, that took heed of every change in its object. + +Mrs. Marchmont examined the two cards, which bore the names of Mr. and +Mrs. Weston, Kemberling. On the back of the lady's card these words +were written in pencil: + +"Will Mrs. Marchmont be so good as to see Lavinia Weston, Paul +Marchmont's younger sister, and a connection of Mrs. M.'s?" + +Olivia shrugged her shoulders, as she threw down the card. + +"Paul Marchmont! Lavinia Weston!" she muttered; "yes, I remember he +said something about a sister married to a surgeon at Stanfield. Let +these people come to me, Barbara." + +The waiting-woman looked doubtfully at her mistress. + +"You'll maybe smooth your hair, and freshen yourself up a bit, before +ye see the folks, Miss Livy," she said, in a tone of mingled suggestion +and entreaty. "Ye've had a deal of worry lately, and it's made ye look +a little fagged and haggard-like. I'd not like the Kemberling folks to +say as you was ill." + +Mrs. Marchmont turned fiercely upon the Abigail. + +"Let me alone!" she cried. "What is it to you, or to any one, how I +look? What good have my looks done me, that I should worry myself about +them?" she added, under her breath. "Show these people in here, if they +want to see me." + +"They've been shown into the western drawing-room, ma'am;--Richardson +took 'em in there." + +Barbara Simmons fought hard for the preservation of appearances. She +wanted the Rector's daughter to receive these strange people, who had +dared to intrude upon her, in a manner befitting the dignity of John +Marchmont's widow. She glanced furtively at the disorder of the gloomy +chamber. Books and papers were scattered here and there; the hearth and +low fender were littered with heaps of torn letters,--for Olivia +Marchmont had no tenderness for the memorials of the past, and indeed +took a fierce delight in sweeping away the unsanctified records of her +joyless, loveless life. The high-backed oaken chairs had been pushed +out of their places; the green-cloth cover had been drawn half off the +massive table, and hung in trailing folds upon the ground. A book flung +here; a shawl there; a handkerchief in another place; an open +secretaire, with scattered documents and uncovered inkstand,--littered +the room, and bore mute witness of the restlessness of its occupant. It +needed no very subtle psychologist to read aright those separate tokens +of a disordered mind; of a weary spirit which had sought distraction in +a dozen occupations, and had found relief in none. It was some vague +sense of this that caused Barbara Simmons's anxiety. She wished to keep +strangers out of this room, in which her mistress, wan, haggard, and +weary-looking, revealed her secret by so many signs and tokens. But +before Olivia could make any answer to her servant's suggestion, the +door, which Barbara had left ajar, was pushed open by a very gentle +hand, and a sweet voice said, in cheery chirping accents, + +"I am sure I may come in; may I not, Mrs. Marchmont? The impression my +brother Paul's description gave me of you is such a very pleasant one, +that I venture to intrude uninvited, almost forbidden, perhaps." + +The voice and manner of the speaker were so airy and self-possessed, +there was such a world of cheerfulness and amiability in every tone, +that, as Olivia Marchmont rose from her chair, she put her hand to her +head, dazed and confounded, as if by the too boisterous carolling of +some caged bird. What did they mean, these accents of gladness, these +clear and untroubled tones, which sounded shrill, and almost +discordant, in the despairing woman's ears? She stood, pale and worn, +the very picture of all gloom and misery, staring hopelessly at her +visitor; too much abandoned to her grief to remember, in that first +moment, the stern demands of pride. She stood still; revealing, by her +look, her attitude, her silence, her abstraction, a whole history to +the watchful eyes that were looking at her. + +Mrs. Weston lingered on the threshold of the chamber in a pretty +half-fluttering manner; which was charmingly expressive of a struggle +between a modest poor-relation-like diffidence and an earnest desire to +rush into Olivia's arms. The surgeon's wife was a delicate-looking +little woman, with features that seemed a miniature and feminine +reproduction of her brother Paul's, and with very light hair,--hair so +light and pale that, had it turned as white as the artist's in a single +night, very few people would have been likely to take heed of the +change. Lavinia Weston was eminently what is generally called a +_lady-like_ woman. She always conducted herself in that especial and +particular manner which was exactly fitted to the occasion. She +adjusted her behaviour by the nicest shades of colour and hair-breadth +scale of measurement. She had, as it were, made for herself a +homoeopathic system of good manners, and could mete out politeness and +courtesy in the veriest globules, never administering either too much +or too little. To her husband she was a treasure beyond all price; and +if the Lincolnshire surgeon, who was a fat, solemn-faced man, with a +character as level and monotonous as the flats and fens of his native +county, was henpecked, the feminine autocrat held the reins of +government so lightly, that her obedient subject was scarcely aware how +very irresponsible his wife's authority had become. + +As Olivia Marchmont stood confronting the timid hesitating figure of +the intruder, with the width of the chamber between them, Lavinia +Weston, in her crisp muslin-dress and scarf, her neat bonnet and bright +ribbons and primly-adjusted gloves, looked something like an +adventurous canary who had a mind to intrude upon the den of a hungry +lioness. The difference, physical and moral, between the timid bird and +the savage forest-queen could be scarcely wider than that between the +two women. + +But Olivia did not stand for ever embarrassed and silent in her +visitor's presence. Her pride came to her rescue. She turned sternly +upon the polite intruder. + +"Walk in, if you please, Mrs. Weston," she said, "and sit down. I was +denied to you just now because I have been ill, and have ordered my +servants to deny me to every one." + +"But, my dear Mrs. Marchmont," murmured Lavinia Weston in soft, almost +dove-like accents, "if you have been ill, is not your illness another +reason for seeing us, rather than for keeping us away from you? I would +not, of course, say a word which could in any way be calculated to give +offence to your regular medical attendant,--you have a regular medical +attendant, no doubt; from Swampington, I dare say,--but a doctor's wife +may often be useful when a doctor is himself out of place. There are +little nervous ailments--depression of spirits, mental uneasiness--from +which women, and sensitive women, suffer acutely, and which perhaps a +woman's more refined nature alone can thoroughly comprehend. You are +not looking well, my dear Mrs. Marchmont. I left my husband in the +drawing-room, for I was so anxious that our first meeting should take +place without witnesses. Men think women sentimental when they are only +impulsive. Weston is a good simple-hearted creature, but he knows as +much about a woman's mind as he does of an AEolian harp. When the +strings vibrate, he hears the low plaintive notes, but he has no idea +whence the melody comes. It is thus with us, Mrs. Marchmont. These +medical men watch us in the agonies of hysteria; they hear our sighs, +they see our tears, and in their awkwardness and ignorance they +prescribe commonplace remedies out of the pharmacopoeia. No, dear Mrs. +Marchmont, you do not look well. I fear it is the mind, the mind, which +has been over-strained. Is it not so?" + +Mrs. Weston put her head on one side as she asked this question, and +smiled at Olivia with an air of gentle insinuation. If the doctor's +wife wished to plumb the depths of the widow's gloomy soul, she had an +advantage here; for Mrs. Marchmont was thrown off her guard by the +question, which had been perhaps asked hap-hazard, or it may be with a +deeply considered design. Olivia turned fiercely upon the polite +questioner. + +"I have been suffering from nothing but a cold which I caught the other +day," she said; "I am not subject to any fine-ladylike hysteria, I can +assure you, Mrs. Weston." + +The doctor's wife pursed up her lips into a sympathetic smile, not at +all abashed by this rebuff. She had seated herself in one of the +high-backed chairs, with her muslin skirt spread out about her. She +looked a living exemplification of all that is neat and prim and +commonplace, in contrast with the pale, stern-faced woman, standing +rigid and defiant in her long black robes. + +"How very chy-arming!" exclaimed Mrs. Weston. "You are really _not_ +nervous. Dee-ar me; and from what my brother Paul said, I should have +imagined that any one so highly organised must be rather nervous. But I +really fear I am impertinent, and that I presume upon our very slight +relationship. It _is_ a relationship, is it not, although such a very +slight one?" + +"I have never thought of the subject," Mrs. Marchmont replied coldly. +"I suppose, however, that my marriage with your brother's cousin--" + +"And _my_ cousin--" + +"Made a kind of connexion between us. But Mr. Marchmont gave me to +understand that you lived at Stanfield, Mrs. Weston." + +"Until last week, positively until last week," answered the surgeon's +wife. "I see you take very little interest in village gossip, Mrs. +Marchmont, or you would have heard of the change at Kemberling." + +"What change?" + +"My husband's purchase of poor old Mr. Dawnfield's practice. The dear +old man died a month ago,--you heard of his death, of course,--and Mr. +Weston negotiated the purchase with Mrs. Dawnfield in less than a +fortnight. We came here early last week, and already we are making +friends in the neighbourhood. How strange that you should not have +heard of our coming!" + +"I do not see much society," Olivia answered indifferently, "and I hear +nothing of the Kemberling people." + +"Indeed!" cried Mrs. Weston; "and we hear so much of Marchmont Towers +at Kemberling." + +She looked full in the widow's face as she spoke, her stereotyped smile +subsiding into a look of greedy curiosity; a look whose intense +eagerness could not be concealed. + +That look, and the tone in which her last sentence had been spoken, +said as plainly as the plainest words could have done, "I have heard of +Mary Marchmont's flight." + +Olivia understood this; but in the passionate depth of her own madness +she had no power to fathom the meanings or the motives of other people. +She revolted against this Mrs. Weston, and disliked her because the +woman intruded upon her in her desolation; but she never once thought +of Lavinia Weston's interest in Mary's movements; she never once +remembered that the frail life of that orphan girl only stood between +this woman's brother and the rich heritage of Marchmont Towers. + +Blind and forgetful of everything in the hideous egotism of her +despair, what was Olivia Marchmont but a fitting tool, a plastic and +easily-moulded instrument, in the hands of unscrupulous people, whose +hard intellects had never been beaten into confused shapelessness in +the fiery furnace of passion? + +Mrs. Weston had heard of Mary Marchmont's flight; but she had heard +half a dozen different reports of that event, as widely diversified in +their details as if half a dozen heiresses had fled from Marchmont +Towers. Every gossip in the place had a separate story as to the +circumstances which had led to the girl's running away from her home. +The accounts vied with each other in graphic force and minute +elaboration; the conversations that had taken place between Mary and +her stepmother, between Edward Arundel and Mrs. Marchmont, between the +Rector of Swampington and nobody in particular, would have filled a +volume, as related by the gossips of Kemberling; but as everybody +assigned a different cause for the terrible misunderstanding at the +Towers, and a different direction for Mary's flight,--and as the +railway official at the station, who could have thrown some light on +the subject, was a stern and moody man, who had little sympathy with +his kind, and held his tongue persistently,--it was not easy to get +very near the truth. Under these circumstances, then, Mrs. Weston +determined upon seeking information at the fountain-head, and +approaching the cruel stepmother, who, according to some of the +reports, had starved and beaten her dead husband's child. + +"Yes, dear Mrs. Marchmont," said Lavinia Weston, seeing that it was +necessary to come direct to the point if she wished to wring the truth +from Olivia; "yes, we hear of everything at Kemberling; and I need +scarcely tell you, that we heard of the sad trouble which you have had +to endure since your ball--the ball that is spoken of as the most +chy-arming entertainment remembered in the neighbourhood for a long +time. We heard of this sad girl's flight." + +Mrs. Marchmont looked up with a dark frown, but made no answer. + +"Was she--it really is such a very painful question, that I almost +shrink from--but was Miss Marchmont at all--eccentric--a little +mentally deficient? Pray pardon me, if I have given you pain by such a +question; but----" + +Olivia started, and looked sharply at her visitor. "Mentally deficient? +No!" she said. But as she spoke her eyes dilated, her pale cheeks grew +paler, her upper lip quivered with a faint convulsive movement. It +seemed as if some idea presented itself to her with a sudden force that +almost took away her breath. + +"_Not_ mentally deficient!" repeated Lavinia Weston; "dee-ar me! It's a +great comfort to hear that. Of course Paul saw very little of his +cousin, and he was not therefore in a position to judge,--though his +opinions, however rapidly arrived at, are generally so _very_ +accurate;--but he gave me to understand that he thought Miss Marchmont +appeared a little--just a little--weak in her intellect. I am very glad +to find he was mistaken." + +Olivia made no reply to this speech. She had seated herself in her +chair by the window; she looked straight before her into the flagged +quadrangle, with her hands lying idle in her lap. It seemed as if she +were actually unconscious of her visitor's presence, or as if, in her +scornful indifference, she did not even care to affect any interest in +that visitor's conversation. + +Lavinia Weston returned again to the attack. + +"Pray, Mrs. Marchmont, do not think me intrusive or impertinent," she +said pleadingly, "if I ask you to favour me with the true particulars +of this sad event. I am sure you will be good enough to remember that +my brother Paul, my sister, and myself are Mary Marchmont's nearest +relatives on her father's side, and that we have therefore some right +to feel interested in her?" + +By this very polite speech Lavinia Weston plainly reminded the widow of +the insignificance of her own position at Marchmont Towers. In her +ordinary frame of mind Olivia would have resented the ladylike slight, +but to-day she neither heard nor heeded it; she was brooding with a +stupid, unreasonable persistency over the words "mental deficiency," +"weak intellect." She only roused herself by a great effort to answer +Mrs. Weston's question, when that lady had repeated it in very plain +words. + +"I can tell you nothing about Miss Marchmont's flight," she said, +coldly, "except that she chose to run away from her home. I found +reason to object to her conduct upon the night of the ball; and the +next morning she left the house, assigning no reason--to me, at any +rate--for her absurd and improper behaviour." + +"She assigned no reason to _you_, my dear Mrs. Marchmont; but she +assigned a reason to somebody, I infer, from what you say?" + +"Yes; she wrote a letter to my cousin, Captain Arundel." + +"Telling him the reason of her departure?" + +"I don't know--I forget. The letter told nothing clearly; it was wild +and incoherent." + +Mrs. Weston sighed,--a long-drawn, desponding sigh. + +"Wild and incoherent!" she murmured, in a pensive tone. "How grieved +Paul will be to hear of this! He took such an interest in his cousin--a +delicate and fragile-looking young creature, he told me. Yes, he took a +very great interest in her, Mrs. Marchmont, though you may perhaps +scarcely believe me when I say so. He kept himself purposely aloof from +this place; his sensitive nature led him to abstain from even revealing +his interest in Miss Marchmont. His position, you must remember, with +regard to this poor dear girl, is a very delicate--I may say a very +painful--one." + +Olivia remembered nothing of the kind. The value of the Marchmont +estates; the sordid worth of those wide-stretching farms, spreading +far-away into Yorkshire; the pitiful, closely-calculated revenue, which +made Mary a wealthy heiress,--were so far from the dark thoughts of +this woman's desperate heart, that she no more suspected Mrs. Weston of +any mercenary design in coming to the Towers, than of burglarious +intentions with regard to the silver spoons in the plate-room. She only +thought that the surgeon's wife was a tiresome woman, against whose +pertinacious civility her angry spirit chafed and rebelled, until she +was almost driven to order her from the room. + +In this cruel weariness of spirit Mrs. Marchmont gave a short impatient +sigh, which afforded a sufficient hint to such an accomplished +tactician as her visitor. + +"I know I have tired you, my dear Mrs. Marchmont," the doctor's wife +said, rising and arranging her muslin scarf as she spoke, in token of +her immediate departure. "I am so sorry to find you a sufferer from +that nasty hacking cough; but of course you have the best advice,--Mr. +Barlow from Swampington, I think you said?"--Olivia had said nothing of +the kind;--"and I trust the warm weather will prevent the cough taking +any hold of your chest. If I might venture to suggest flannels--so many +young women quite ridicule the idea of flannels--but, as the wife of a +humble provincial practitioner, I have learned their value. Good-bye, +dear Mrs. Marchmont. I may come again, may I not, now that the ice is +broken, and we are so well acquainted with each other? Good-bye." + +Olivia could not refuse to take at least _one_ of the two plump and +tightly-gloved hands which were held out to her with an air of frank +cordiality; but the widow's grasp was loose and nerveless, and, +inasmuch as two consentient parties are required to the shaking of +hands as well as to the getting up of a quarrel, the salutation was not +a very hearty one. + +The surgeon's pony must have been weary of standing before the flight +of shallow steps leading to the western portico, when Mrs. Weston took +her seat by her husband's side in the gig, which had been newly painted +and varnished since the worthy couple's hegira from Stanfield. + +The surgeon was not an ambitious man, nor a designing man; he was +simply stupid and lazy--lazy although, in spite of himself, he led an +active and hard-working life; but there are many square men whose sides +are cruelly tortured by the pressure of the round holes into which they +are ill-advisedly thrust, and if our destinies were meted out to us in +strict accordance with our temperaments, Mr. Weston should have been a +lotus-eater. As it was, he was content to drudge on, mildly complying +with every desire of his wife; doing what she told him, because it was +less trouble to do the hardest work at her bidding than to oppose her. +It would have been surely less painful for Macbeth to have finished +that ugly business of the murder than to have endured my lady's black +contemptuous scowl, and the bitter scorn and contumely concentrated in +those four words, "Give _me_ the daggers." + +Mr. Weston asked one or two commonplace questions about his wife's +interview with John Marchmont's widow; but, slowly apprehending that +Lavinia did not care to discuss the matter, he relapsed into meek +silence, and devoted all his intellectual powers to the task of keeping +the pony out of the deeper ruts in the rugged road between Marchmont +Towers and Kemberling High Street. + +"What is the secret of that woman's life?" thought Lavinia Weston +during that homeward drive. "Has she ill-treated the girl, or is she +plotting in some way or other to get hold of the Marchmont fortune? +Pshaw! that's impossible. And yet she may be making a purse, somehow or +other, out of the estate. Anyhow, there is bad blood between the two +women." + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +A STOLEN HONEYMOON. + + +The village to which Edward Arundel took his bride was within a few +miles of Winchester. The young soldier had become familiar with the +place in his early boyhood, when he had gone to spend a part of one +bright midsummer holiday at the house of a schoolfellow; and had ever +since cherished a friendly remembrance of the winding trout-streams, +the rich verdure of the valleys, and the sheltering hills that shut in +the pleasant little cluster of thatched cottages, the pretty +white-walled villas, and the grey old church. + +But to Mary, whose experiences of town and country were limited to the +dingy purlieus of Oakley Street and the fenny flats of Lincolnshire, +this Hampshire village seemed a rustic paradise, which neither trouble +nor sorrow could ever approach. She had trembled at the thought of +Olivia's coming in Oakley Street; but here she seemed to lose all +terror of her stern stepmother,--here, sheltered and protected by her +young husband's love, she fancied that she might live her life out +happy and secure. + +She told Edward this one sunny morning, as they sat by the young man's +favourite trout-stream. Captain Arundel's fishing-tackle lay idle on +the turf at his side, for he had been beguiled into forgetfulness of a +ponderous trout he had been watching and finessing with for upwards of +an hour, and had flung himself at full length upon the mossy margin of +the water, with his uncovered head lying in Mary's lap. + +The childish bride would have been content to sit for ever thus in that +rural solitude, with her fingers twisted in her husband's chestnut +curls, and her soft eyes keeping timid watch upon his handsome +face,--so candid and unclouded in its careless repose. The undulating +meadow-land lay half-hidden in a golden haze, only broken here and +there by the glitter of the brighter sunlight that lit up the waters of +the wandering streams that intersected the low pastures. The massive +towers of the cathedral, the grey walls of St. Cross, loomed dimly in +the distance; the bubbling plash of a mill-stream sounded like some +monotonous lullaby in the drowsy summer atmosphere. Mary looked from +the face she loved to the fair landscape about her, and a tender +solemnity crept into her mind--a reverent love and admiration for this +beautiful earth, which was almost akin to awe. + +"How pretty this place is, Edward!" she said. "I had no idea there were +such places in all the wide world. Do you know, I think I would rather +be a cottage-girl here than an heiress in Lincolnshire. Edward, if I +ask you a favour, will you grant it?" + +She spoke very earnestly, looking down at her husband's upturned face; +but Captain Arundel only laughed at her question, without even caring +to lift the drowsy eyelids that drooped over his blue eyes. + +"Well, my pet, if you want anything short of the moon, I suppose your +devoted husband is scarcely likely to refuse it. Our honeymoon is not a +fortnight old yet, Polly dear; you wouldn't have me turn tyrant quite +as soon as this. Speak out, Mrs. Arundel, and assert your dignity as a +British matron. What is the favour I am to grant?" + +"I want you to live here always, Edward darling," pleaded the girlish +voice. "Not for a fortnight or a month, but for ever and ever. I have +never been happy at Marchmont Towers. Papa died there, you know, and I +cannot forget that. Perhaps that ought to have made the place sacred to +me, and so it has; but it is sacred like papa's tomb in Kemberling +Church, and it seems like profanation to be happy in it, or to forget +my dead father even for a moment. Don't let us go back there, Edward. +Let my stepmother live there all her life. It would seem selfish and +cruel to turn her out of the house she has so long been mistress of. +Mr. Gormby will go on collecting the rents, you know, and can send us +as much money as we want; and we can take that pretty house we saw to +let on the other side of Milldale,--the house with the rookery, and the +dovecotes, and the sloping lawn leading down to the water. You know you +don't like Lincolnshire, Edward, any more than I do, and there's +scarcely any trout-fishing near the Towers." + +Captain Arundel opened his eyes, and lifted himself out of his +reclining position before he answered his wife. + +"My own precious Polly," he said, smiling fondly at the gentle childish +face turned in such earnestness towards his own; "my runaway little +wife, rich people have their duties to perform as well as poor people; +and I am afraid it would never do for you to hide in this +out-of-the-way Hampshire village, and play absentee from stately +Marchmont and all its dependencies. I love that pretty, infantine, +unworldly spirit of yours, my darling; and I sometimes wish we were two +grown-up babes in the wood, and could wander about gathering wild +flowers, and eating blackberries and hazel-nuts, until the shades of +evening closed in, and the friendly robins came to bury us. Don't fancy +I am tired of our honeymoon, Polly, or that I care for Marchmont Towers +any more than you do; but I fear the non-residence plan would never +answer. The world would call my little wife eccentric, if she ran away +from her grandeur; and Paul Marchmont the artist,--of whom your poor +father had rather a bad opinion, by the way,--would be taking out a +statute of lunacy against you." + +"Paul Marchmont!" repeated Mary. "Did papa dislike Mr. Paul Marchmont?" + +"Well, poor John had a sort of a prejudice against the man, I believe; +but it was only a prejudice, for he freely confessed that he could +assign no reason for it. But whatever Mr. Paul Marchmont may be, you +must live at the Towers, Mary, and be Lady Bountiful-in-chief in your +neighbourhood, and look after your property, and have long interviews +with Mr. Gormby, and become altogether a woman of business; so that +when I go back to India----" + +Mary interrupted him with a little cry: + +"Go back to India!" she exclaimed. "What do you mean, Edward?" + +"I mean, my darling, that my business in life is to fight for my Queen +and country, and not to spunge upon my wife's fortune. You don't +suppose I'm going to lay down my sword at seven-and-twenty years of +age, and retire upon my pension? No, Polly; you remember what Lord +Nelson said on the deck of the _Victory_ at Trafalgar. That saying can +never be so hackneyed as to lose its force. I must do my duty, Polly--I +must do my duty, even if duty and love pull different ways, and I have +to leave my darling, in the service of my country." + +Mary clasped her hands in despair, and looked piteously at her +lover-husband, with the tears streaming down her pale cheeks. + +"O Edward," she cried, "how cruel you are; how very, very cruel you are +to me! What is the use of my fortune if you won't share it with me, if +you won't take it all; for it is yours, my dearest--it is all yours? I +remember the words in the Marriage Service, 'with all my goods I thee +endow.' I have given you Marchmont Towers, Edward; nobody in the world +can take it away from you. You never, never, never could be so cruel as +to leave me! I know how brave and good you are, and I am proud to think +of your noble courage and all the brave deeds you did in India. But you +_have_ fought for your country, Edward; you _have_ done your duty. +Nobody can expect more of you; nobody shall take you from me. O my +darling, my husband, you promised to shelter and defend me while our +lives last! You won't leave me--you won't leave me, will you?" + +Edward Arundel kissed the tears away from his wife's pale face, and +drew her head upon his bosom. + +"My love," he said tenderly, "you cannot tell how much pain it gives me +to hear you talk like this. What can I do? To give up my profession +would be to make myself next kin to a pauper. What would the world say +of me, Mary? Think of that. This runaway marriage would be a dreadful +dishonour to me, if it were followed by a life of lazy dependence on my +wife's fortune. Nobody can dare to slander the soldier who spends the +brightest years of his life in the service of his country. You would +not surely have me be less than true to myself, Mary darling? For my +honour's sake, I must leave you." + +"O no, no, no!" cried the girl, in a low wailing voice. Unselfish and +devoted as she had been in every other crisis of her young life, she +could not be reasonable or self-denying here; she was seized with +despair at the thought of parting with her husband. No, not even for +his honour's sake could she let him go. Better that they should both +die now, in this early noontide of their happiness. + +"Edward, Edward," she sobbed, clinging convulsively about the young +man's neck, "don't leave me--don't leave me!" + +"Will you go with me to India, then, Mary?" + +She lifted her head suddenly, and looked her husband in the face, with +the gladness in her eyes shining through her tears, like an April sun +through a watery sky. + +"I would go to the end of the world with you, my own darling," she +said; "the burning sands and the dreadful jungles would have no terrors +for me, if I were with you, Edward." + +Captain Arundel smiled at her earnestness. + +"I won't take you into the jungle, my love," he answered, playfully; +"or if I do, your palki shall be well guarded, and all ravenous beasts +kept at a respectful distance from my little wife. A great many ladies +go to India with their husbands, Polly, and come back very little the +worse for the climate or the voyage; and except your money, there is no +reason you should not go with me." + +"Oh, never mind my money; let anybody have that." + +"Polly," cried the soldier, very seriously, "we must consult Richard +Paulette as to the future. I don't think I did right in marrying you +during his absence; and I have delayed writing to him too long, Polly. +Those letters must be written this afternoon." + +"The letter to Mr. Paulette and to your father?" + +"Yes; and the letter to my cousin Olivia." + +Mary's face grew sorrowful again, as Captain Arundel said this. + +"_Must_ you tell my stepmother of our marriage?" she said. + +"Most assuredly, my dear. Why should we keep her in ignorance of it? +Your father's will gave her the privilege of advising you, but not the +power to interfere with your choice, whatever that choice might be. You +were your own mistress, Mary, when you married me. What reason have you +to fear my cousin Olivia?" + +"No reason, perhaps," the girl answered, sadly; "but I do fear her. I +know I am very foolish, Edward, and you have reason to despise me,--you +who are so brave. But I could never tell you how I tremble at the +thought of being once more in my stepmother's power. She said cruel +things to me, Edward. Every word she spoke seemed to stab me to the +heart; but it isn't that only. There's something more than that; +something that I can't describe, that I can't understand; something +which tells me that she hates me." + +"Hates you, darling?" + +"Yes, Edward; yes, she hates me. It wasn't always so, you know. She +used to be only cold and reserved, but lately her manner has changed. I +thought that she was ill, perhaps, and that my presence worried her. +People often wish to be alone, I know, when they are ill. O Edward, I +have seen her shrink from me, and shudder if her dress brushed against +mine, as if I had been some horrible creature. What have I done, +Edward, that she should hate me?" + +Captain Arundel knitted his brows, and set himself to work out this +womanly problem, but he could make nothing of it. Yes, what Mary had +said was perfectly true: Olivia hated her. The young man had seen that +upon the morning of the girl's flight from Marchmont Towers; he had +seen vengeful fury and vindictive passion raging in the dark face of +John Marchmont's widow. But what reason could the woman have for her +hatred of this innocent girl? Again and again Olivia's cousin asked +himself this question; and he was so far away from the truth at last, +that he could only answer it by imagining the lowest motive for the +widow's bad feeling. "She envies my poor little girl her fortune and +position," he thought. + +"But you won't leave me alone with my stepmother, will you, Edward?" +Mary said, recurring to her old prayer. "I am not afraid of her, nor of +anybody or anything in the world, while you are with me,--how should I +be?--but I think if I were to be alone with her again, I should die. +She would speak to me again as she spoke upon the night of the ball, +and her bitter taunts would kill me. I _could_ not bear to be in her +power again, Edward." + +"And you shall not, my darling," answered the young man, enfolding the +slender, trembling figure in his strong arms. "My own childish pet, you +shall never be exposed to any woman's insolence or tyranny. You shall +be sheltered and protected, and hedged in on every side by your +husband's love. And when I go to India, you shall sail with me, my +pearl. Mary, look up and smile at me, and let's have no more talk of +cruel stepmothers. How strange it seems to me, Polly dear, that you +should have been so womanly when you were a child, and yet are so +childlike now you are a woman!" + +The mistress of Marchmont Towers looked doubtfully at her husband, as +if she feared her childishness might be displeasing to him. + +"You don't love me any the less because of that, do you, Edward?" she +asked timidly. + +"Because of what, my treasure?" + +"Because I am so--childish?" + +"Polly," cried the young man, "do you think Jupiter liked Hebe any the +less because she was as fresh and innocent as the nectar she served out +to him? If he had, my dear, he'd have sent for Clotho, or Atropos, or +some one or other of the elderly maiden ladies of Hades, to wait upon +him as cupbearer. I wouldn't have you otherwise than you are, Polly, by +so much as one thought." + +The girl looked up at her husband in a rapture of innocent affection. + +"I am too happy, Edward," she said, in a low awe-stricken whisper--"I +am too happy! So much happiness can never last." + +Alas! the orphan girl's experience of this life had early taught her +the lesson which some people learn so late. She had learnt to distrust +the equal blue of a summer sky, the glorious splendour of the blazing +sunlight. She was accustomed to sorrow; but these brief glimpses of +perfect happiness filled her with a dim sense of terror. She felt like +some earthly wanderer who had strayed across the threshold of Paradise. +In the midst of her delight and admiration, she trembled for the moment +in which the ruthless angels, bearing flaming swords, should drive her +from the celestial gates. + +"It can't last, Edward," she murmured. + +"Can't last, Polly!" cried the young man; "why, my dove is transformed +all at once into a raven. We have outlived our troubles, Polly, like +the hero and heroine in one of your novels; and what is to prevent our +living happy ever afterwards, like them? If you remember, my dear, no +sorrows or trials ever fall to the lot of people _after_ marriage. The +persecutions, the separations, the estrangements, are all ante-nuptial. +When once your true novelist gets his hero and heroine up to the +altar-rails in real earnest,--he gets them into the church sometimes, +and then forbids the banns, or brings a former wife, or a rightful +husband, pale and denouncing, from behind a pillar, and drives the +wretched pair out again, to persecute them through three hundred pages +more before he lets them get back again,--but when once the important +words are spoken and the knot tied, the story's done, and the happy +couple get forty or fifty years' wedded bliss, as a set-off against the +miseries they have endured in the troubled course of a twelvemonth's +courtship. That's the sort of thing, isn't it, Polly?" + +The clock of St. Cross, sounding faintly athwart the meadows, struck +three as the young man finished speaking. + +"Three o'clock, Polly!" he cried; "we must go home, my pet. I mean to +be businesslike to-day." + +Upon each day in that happy honeymoon holiday Captain Arundel had made +some such declaration with regard to his intention of being +businesslike; that is to say, setting himself deliberately to the task +of writing those letters which should announce and explain his marriage +to the people who had a right to hear of it. But the soldier had a +dislike to all letter-writing, and a special horror of any epistolary +communication which could come under the denomination of a +business-letter; so the easy summer days slipped by,--the delicious +drowsy noontides, the soft and dreamy twilight, the tender moonlit +nights,--and the Captain put off the task for which he had no fancy, +from after breakfast until after dinner, and from after dinner until +after breakfast; always beguiled away from his open travelling-desk by +a word from Mary, who called him to the window to look at a pretty +child on the village green before the inn, or at the blacksmith's dog, +or the tinker's donkey, or a tired Italian organ-boy who had strayed +into that out-of-the-way nook, or at the smart butcher from Winchester, +who rattled over in a pony-cart twice a week to take orders from the +gentry round about, and to insult and defy the local purveyor, whose +stock-in-trade generally seemed to consist of one leg of mutton and a +dish of pig's fry. + +The young couple walked slowly through the meadows, crossing rustic +wooden bridges that spanned the winding stream, loitering to look down +into the clear water at the fish which Captain Arundel pointed out, but +which Mary could never see;--that young lady always fixing her eyes +upon some long trailing weed afloat in the transparent water, while the +silvery trout indicated by her husband glided quietly away to the sedgy +bottom of the stream. They lingered by the water-mill, beneath whose +shadow some children were fishing; they seized upon every pretext for +lengthening that sunny homeward walk, and only reached the inn as the +village clocks were striking four, at which hour Captain Arundel had +ordered dinner. + +But after the simple little repast, mild and artless in its nature as +the fair young spirit of the bride herself; after the landlord, +sympathetic yet respectful, had in his own person attended upon his two +guests; after the pretty rustic chamber had been cleared of all +evidence of the meal that had been eaten, Edward Arundel began +seriously to consider the business in hand. + +"The letters must be written, Polly," he said, seating himself at a +table near the open window. Trailing branches of jasmine and +honeysuckle made a framework round the diamond-paned casement; the +perfumed blossoms blew into the room with every breath of the warm +August breeze, and hung trembling in the folds of the chintz curtains. +Mr. Arundel's gaze wandered dreamily away through this open window to +the primitive picture without,--the scattered cottages upon the other +side of the green, the cattle standing in the pond, the cackling geese +hurrying homeward across the purple ridge of common, the village +gossips loitering beneath the faded sign that hung before the low white +tavern at the angle of the road. He looked at all these things as he +flung his leathern desk upon the table, and made a great parade of +unlocking and opening it. + +"The letters must be written," he repeated, with a smothered sigh. "Did +you ever notice a peculiar property in stationery, Polly?" + +Mrs. Edward Arundel only opened her brown eyes to their widest extent, +and stared at her husband. + +"No, I see you haven't," said the young man. "How should you, you +fortunate Polly? You've never had to write any business-letters yet, +though you are an heiress. The peculiarity of all stationery, my dear, +is, that it is possessed of an intuitive knowledge of the object for +which it is to be used. If one has to write an unpleasant letter, +Polly, it might go a little smoother, you know; one might round one's +paragraphs, and spell the difficult words--the 'believes' and +'receives,' the 'tills' and 'untils,' and all that sort of +thing--better with a pleasant pen, an easy-going, jolly, soft-nibbed +quill, that would seem to say, 'Cheer up, old fellow! I'll carry you +through it; we'll get to "your very obedient servant" before you know +where you are,' and so on. But, bless your heart, Polly! let a poor +unbusinesslike fellow try to write a business-letter, and everything +goes against him. The pen knows what he's at, and jibs, and stumbles, +and shies about the paper, like a broken-down screw; the ink turns +thick and lumpy; the paper gets as greasy as a London pavement after a +fall of snow, till a poor fellow gives up, and knocks under to the +force of circumstances. You see if my pen doesn't splutter, Polly, the +moment I address Richard Paulette." + +Captain Arundel was very careful in the adjustment of his sheet of +paper, and began his letter with an air of resolution. + +"White Hart Inn, Milldale, near Winchester, +"August 14th. + +"MY DEAR SIR," + +He wrote as much as this with great promptitude, and then, with his +elbow on the table, fell to staring at his pretty young wife and +drumming his fingers on his chin. Mary was sitting opposite her husband +at the open window, working, or making a pretence of being occupied +with some impossible fragment of Berlin wool-work, while she watched +her husband. + +"How pretty you look in that white frock, Polly!" said the soldier; +"you call those things frocks, don't you? And that blue sash, too,--you +ought always to wear white, Mary, like your namesakes abroad who are +_vouee au blanc_ by their faithful mothers, and who are a blessing to +the laundresses for the first seven or fourteen years of their lives. +What shall I say to Paulette? He's such a jolly fellow, there oughtn't +to be much difficulty about the matter. 'My dear sir,' seems absurdly +stiff; 'my dear Paulette,'--that's better,--'I write this to inform you +that your client, Miss Mary March----' What's that, Polly?" + +It was the postman, a youth upon a pony, with the afternoon letters +from London. Captain Arundel flung down his pen and went to the window. +He had some interest in this young man's arrival, as he had left orders +that such letters as were addressed to him at the hotel in Covent +Garden should be forwarded to him at Milldale. + +"I daresay there's a letter from Germany, Polly," he said eagerly. "My +mother and Letitia are capital correspondents; I'll wager anything +there's a letter, and I can answer it in the one I'm going to write +this evening, and that'll be killing two birds with one stone. I'll run +down to the postman, Polly." + +Captain Arundel had good reason to go after his letters, for there +seemed little chance of those missives being brought to him. The +youthful postman was standing in the porch drinking ale out of a +ponderous earthenware mug, and talking to the landlord, when Edward +went down. + +"Any letters for me, Dick?" the Captain asked. He knew the Christian +name of almost every visitor or hanger-on at the little inn, though he +had not stayed there an entire fortnight, and was as popular and +admired as if he had been some free-spoken young squire to whom all the +land round about belonged. + +"'Ees, sir," the young man answered, shuffling off his cap; "there be +two letters for ye." + +He handed the two packets to Captain Arundel, who looked doubtfully at +the address of the uppermost, which, like the other, had been +re-directed by the people at the London hotel. The original address of +this letter was in a handwriting that was strange to him; but it bore +the postmark of the village from which the Dangerfield letters were +sent. + +The back of the inn looked into an orchard, and through an open door +opposite to the porch Edward Arundel saw the low branches of the trees, +and the ripening fruit red and golden in the afternoon sunlight. He +went out into this orchard to read his letters, his mind a little +disturbed by the strange handwriting upon the Dangerfield epistle. + +The letter was from his father's housekeeper, imploring him most +earnestly to go down to the Park without delay. Squire Arundel had been +stricken with paralysis, and was declared to be in imminent danger. +Mrs. and Miss Arundel and Mr. Reginald were away in Germany. The +faithful old servant implored the younger son to lose no time in +hurrying home, if he wished to see his father alive. + +The soldier leaned against the gnarled grey trunk of an old apple-tree, +and stared at this letter with a white awe-stricken face. + +What was he to do? He must go to his father, of course. He must go +without a moment's delay. He must catch the first train that would +carry him westward from Southampton. There could be no question as to +his duty. He must go; he must leave his young wife. + +His heart sank with a sharp thrill of pain, and with perhaps some faint +shuddering sense of an unknown terror, as he thought of this. + +"It was lucky I didn't write the letters," he reflected; "no one will +guess the secret of my darling's retreat. She can stay here till I come +back to her. God knows I shall hurry back the moment my duty sets me +free. These people will take care of her. No one will know where to +look for her. I'm very glad I didn't write to Olivia. We were so happy +this morning! Who could think that sorrow would come between us so +soon?" + +Captain Arundel looked at his watch. It was a quarter to six o'clock, +and he knew that an express left Southampton for the west at eight. +There would be time for him to catch that train with the help of a +sturdy pony belonging to the landlord of the White Hart, which would +rattle him over to the station in an hour and a half. There would be +time for him to catch the train; but, oh! how little time to comfort +his darling--how little time to reconcile his young wife to the +temporary separation! + +He hurried back to the porch, briefly explained to the landlord what +had happened, ordered the pony and gig to be got ready immediately, and +then went very, very slowly upstairs, to the room in which his young +wife sat by the open window waiting for his return. + +Mary looked up at his face as he entered the room, and that one glance +told her of some new sorrow. + +"Edward," she cried, starting up from her chair with a look of terror, +"my stepmother has come." + +Even in his trouble the young man smiled at his foolish wife's +all-absorbing fear of Olivia Marchmont. + +"No, my darling," he said; "I wish to heaven our worst trouble were the +chance of your father's widow breaking in upon us. Something has +happened, Mary; something very sorrowful, very serious for me. My +father is ill, Polly dear, dangerously ill, and I must go to him." + +Mary Arundel drew a long breath. Her face had grown very white, and the +hands that were linked tightly round her husband's arm trembled a +little. + +"I will try to bear it," she said; "I will try to bear it." + +"God bless you, my darling!" the soldier answered fervently, clasping +his young wife to his breast. "I know you will. It will be a very short +parting, Mary dearest. I will come back to you directly I have seen my +father. If he is worse, there will be little need for me to stop at +Dangerfield; if he is better, I can take you back there with me. My own +darling love, it is very bitter for us to be parted thus; but I know +that you will bear it like a heroine. Won't you, Polly?" + +"I will try to bear it, dear." + +She said very little more than this, but clung about her husband, not +with any desperate force, not with any clamorous and tumultuous grief, +but with a half-despondent resignation; as a drowning man, whose +strength is well-nigh exhausted, may cling, in his hopelessness, to a +spar, which he knows he must presently abandon. + +Mary Arundel followed her husband hither and thither while he made his +brief and hurried preparations for the sudden journey; but although she +was powerless to assist him,--for her trembling hands let fall +everything she tried to hold, and there was a mist before her eyes, +which distorted and blotted the outline of every object she looked +at,--she hindered him by no noisy lamentations, she distressed him by +no tears. She suffered, as it was her habit to suffer, quietly and +uncomplainingly. + +The sun was sinking when she went with Edward downstairs to the porch, +before which the landlord's pony and gig were in waiting, in custody of +a smart lad who was to accompany Mr. Arundel to Southampton. There was +no time for any protracted farewell. It was better so, perhaps, Edward +thought. He would be back so soon, that the grief he felt in this +parting--and it may be that his suffering was scarcely less than +Mary's--seemed wasted anguish, to which it would have been sheer +cowardice to give way. But for all this the soldier very nearly broke +down when he saw his childish wife's piteous face, white in the evening +sunlight, turned to him in mute appeal, as if the quivering lips would +fain have entreated him to abandon all and to remain. He lifted the +fragile figure in his arms,--alas! it had never seemed so fragile as +now,--and covered the pale face with passionate kisses and +fast-dropping tears. + +"God bless and defend you, Mary! God keep----" + +He was ashamed of the huskiness of his voice, and putting his wife +suddenly away from him, he sprang into the gig, snatched the reins from +the boy's hand, and drove away at the pony's best speed. The +old-fashioned vehicle disappeared in a cloud of dust; and Mary, looking +after her husband with eyes that were as yet tearless, saw nothing but +glaring light and confusion, and a pastoral landscape that reeled and +heaved like a stormy sea. + +It seemed to her, as she went slowly back to her room, and sat down +amidst the disorder of open portmanteaus and overturned hatboxes, which +the young man had thrown here and there in his hurried selection of the +few things necessary for him to take on his hasty journey--it seemed as +if the greatest calamity of her life had now befallen her. As +hopelessly as she had thought of her father's death, she now thought of +Edward Arundel's departure. She could not see beyond the acute anguish +of this separation. She could not realise to herself that there was no +cause for all this terrible sorrow; that the parting was only a +temporary one; and that her husband would return to her in a few days +at the furthest. Now that she was alone, now that the necessity for +heroism was past, she abandoned herself utterly to the despair that had +held possession of her soul from the moment in which Captain Arundel +had told her of his father's illness. + +The sun went down behind the purple hills that sheltered the western +side of the little village. The tree-tops in the orchard below the open +window of Mrs. Arundel's bedroom grew dim in the grey twilight. Little +by little the sound of voices in the rooms below died away into +stillness. The fresh rosy-cheeked country girl who had waited upon the +young husband and wife, came into the sitting-room with a pair of +wax-candles in old-fashioned silver candlesticks, and lingered in the +room for a little time, expecting to receive some order from the lonely +watcher. But Mary had locked the door of her bedchamber, and sat with +her head upon the sill of the open window, looking out into the dim +orchard. It was only when the stars glimmered in the tranquil sky that +the girl's blank despair gave way before a sudden burst of tears, and +she flung herself down beside the white-curtained bed to pray for her +young husband. She prayed for him in an ecstatic fervour of love and +faith, carried away by the new hopefulness that arose out of her ardent +supplications, and picturing him going triumphant on his course, to +find his father out of danger,--restored to health, perhaps,--and to +return to her before the stars glimmered through the darkness of +another summer's night. She prayed for him, hoping and believing +everything; though at the hour in which she knelt, with the faint +starlight shimmering upon her upturned face and clasped hands, Edward +Arundel was lying, maimed and senseless, in the wretched waiting-room +of a little railway-station in Dorsetshire, watched over by an obscure +country surgeon, while the frightened officials scudded here and there +in search of some vehicle in which the young man might be conveyed to +the nearest town. + +There had been one of those accidents which seem terribly common on +every line of railway, however well managed. A signalman had mistaken +one train for another; a flag had been dropped too soon; and the +down-express had run into a heavy luggage-train blundering up from +Exeter with farm-produce for the London markets. Two men had been +killed, and a great many passengers hurt; some very seriously. Edward +Arundel's case was perhaps one of the most serious amongst these. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +SOUNDING THE DEPTHS. + + +Lavinia Weston spent the evening after her visit to Marchmont Towers at +her writing-desk, which, like everything else appertaining to her, was +a model of neatness and propriety; perfect in its way, although it was +no marvellous specimen of walnut-wood and burnished gold, no elegant +structure of papier-mache and mother-of-pearl, but simply a +schoolgirl's homely rosewood desk, bought for fifteen shillings or a +guinea. + +Mrs. Weston had administered the evening refreshment of weak tea, stale +bread, and strong butter to her meek husband, and had dismissed him to +the surgery, a sunken and rather cellar-like apartment opening out of +the prim second-best parlour, and approached from the village street by +a side-door. The surgeon was very well content to employ himself with +the preparation of such draughts and boluses as were required by the +ailing inhabitants of Kemberling, while his wife sat at her desk in the +room above him. He left his gallipots and pestle and mortar once or +twice in the course of the evening, to clamber ponderously up the three +or four stairs leading to the sitting-room, and stare through the +keyhole of the door at Mrs. Weston's thoughtful face, and busy hand +gliding softly over the smooth note-paper. He did this in no prying or +suspicious spirit, but out of sheer admiration for his wife. + +"What a mind she has!" he murmured rapturously, as he went back to his +work; "what a mind!" + +The letter which Lavinia Weston wrote that evening was a very long one. +She was one of those women who write long letters upon every convenient +occasion. To-night she covered two sheets of note-paper with her small +neat handwriting. Those two sheets contained a detailed account of the +interview that had taken place that day between the surgeon's wife and +Olivia; and the letter was addressed to the artist, Paul Marchmont. + +Perhaps it was in consequence of the receipt of this letter that Paul +Marchmont arrived at his sister's house at Kemberling two days after +Mrs. Weston's visit to Marchmont Towers. He told the surgeon that he +came to Lincolnshire for a few days' change of air, after a long spell +of very hard work; and George Weston, who looked upon his +brother-in-law as an intellectual demigod, was very well content to +accept any explanation of Mr. Marchmont's visit. + +"Kemberling isn't a very lively place for you, Mr. Paul," he said +apologetically,--he always called his wife's brother Mr. Paul,--"but I +dare say Lavinia will contrive to make you comfortable. She persuaded +me to come here when old Dawnfield died; but I can't say she acted with +her usual tact, for the business ain't as good as my Stanfield +practice; but I don't tell Lavinia so." + +Paul Marchmont smiled. + +"The business will pick up by-and-by, I daresay," he said. "You'll have +the Marchmont Towers family to attend to in good time, I suppose." + +"That's what Lavinia said," answered the surgeon. "'Mrs. John Marchmont +can't refuse to employ a relation,' she says; 'and, as first-cousin to +Mary Marchmont's father, I ought'--meaning herself, you know--'to have +some influence in that quarter.' But then, you see, the very week we +come here the gal goes and runs away; which rather, as one may say, +puts a spoke in our wheel, you know." + +Mr. George Weston rubbed his chin reflectively as he concluded thus. He +was a man given to spending his leisure-hours--when he had any leisure, +which was not very often--in tavern parlours, where the affairs of the +nation were settled and unsettled every evening over sixpenny glasses +of hollands and water; and he regretted his removal from Stanfield, +which had been as the uprooting of all his dearest associations. He was +a solemn man, who never hazarded an opinion lightly,--perhaps because +he never had an opinion to hazard,--and his stolidity won him a good +deal of respect from strangers; but in the hands of his wife he was +meeker than the doves that cooed in the pigeon-house behind his +dwelling, and more plastic than the knob of white wax upon which +industrious Mrs. Weston was wont to rub her thread when engaged in the +mysteries of that elaborate and terrible science which women +paradoxically call _plain_ needlework. + +Paul Marchmont presented himself at the Towers upon the day after his +arrival at Kemberling. His interview with the widow was a very long +one. He had studied every line of his sister's letter; he had weighed +every word that had fallen from Olivia's lips and had been recorded by +Lavinia Weston; and taking the knowledge thus obtained as his +starting-point, he took his dissecting-knife and went to work at an +intellectual autopsy. He anatomised the wretched woman's soul. He made +her tell her secret, and bare her tortured breast before him; now +wringing some hasty word from her impatience, now entrapping her into +some admission,--if only so much as a defiant look, a sudden lowering +of the dark brows, an involuntary compression of the lips. He _made_ +her reveal herself to him. Poor Rosencranz and Guildenstern were sorry +blunderers in that art which is vulgarly called pumping, and were +easily put out by a few quips and quaint retorts from the mad Danish +prince; but Paul Marchmont _would_ have played upon Hamlet more deftly +than ever mortal musician played upon pipe or recorder, and would have +fathomed the remotest depths of that sorrowful and erratic soul. Olivia +writhed under the torture of that polite inquisition, for she knew that +her secrets were being extorted from her; that her pitiful folly--that +folly which she would have denied even to herself, if possible--was +being laid bare in all its weak foolishness. She knew this; but she was +compelled to smile in the face of her bland inquisitor, to respond to +his commonplace expressions of concern about the protracted absence of +the missing girl, and meekly to receive his suggestions respecting the +course it was her duty to take. He had the air of responding to _her_ +suggestions, rather than of himself dictating any particular line of +conduct. He affected to believe that he was only agreeing with some +understood ideas of hers, while he urged his own views upon her. + +"Then we are quite of one mind in this, my dear Mrs. Marchmont," he +said at last; "this unfortunate girl must not be suffered to remain +away from her legitimate home any longer than we can help. It is our +duty to find and bring her back. I need scarcely say that you, being +bound to her by every tie of affection, and having, beyond this, the +strongest claim upon her gratitude for your devoted fulfilment of the +trust confided in you,--one hears of these things, Mrs. Marchmont, in a +country village like Kemberling,--I need scarcely say that you are the +most fitting person to win the poor child back to a sense of her +duty--if she _can_ be won to such a sense." Paul Marchmont added, after +a sudden pause and a thoughtful sigh, "I sometimes fear----" + +He stopped abruptly, waiting until Olivia should question him. + +"You sometimes fear----?" + +"That--that the error into which Miss Marchmont has fallen is the +result of a mental rather than of a moral deficiency." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean this, my dear Mrs. Marchmont," answered the artist, gravely; +"one of the most powerful evidences of the soundness of a man's brain +is his capability of assigning a reasonable motive for every action of +his life. No matter how unreasonable the action in itself may seem, if +the motive for that action can be demonstrated. But the moment a man +acts _without_ motive, we begin to take alarm and to watch him. He is +eccentric; his conduct is no longer amenable to ordinary rule; and we +begin to trace his eccentricities to some weakness or deficiency in his +judgment or intellect. Now, I ask you what motive Mary Marchmont can +have had for running away from this house?" + +Olivia quailed under the piercing scrutiny of the artist's cold grey +eyes, but she did not attempt to reply to his question. + +"The answer is very simple," he continued, after that long scrutiny; +"the girl could have had no cause for flight; while, on the other hand, +every reasonable motive that can be supposed to actuate a woman's +conduct was arrayed against her. She had a happy home, a kind +stepmother. She was within a few years of becoming undisputed mistress +of a very large estate. And yet, immediately after having assisted at a +festive entertainment, to all appearance as gay and happy as the gayest +and happiest there, this girl runs away in the dead of the night, +abandoning the mansion which is her own property, and assigning no +reason whatever for what she does. Can you wonder, then, if I feel +confirmed in an opinion that I formed upon the day on which I heard the +reading of my cousin's will?" + +"What opinion?" + +"That Mary Marchmont is as feeble in mind as she is fragile in body." + +He launched this sentence boldly, and waited for Olivia's reply. He had +discovered the widow's secret. He had fathomed the cause of her jealous +hatred of Mary Marchmont; but even _he_ did not yet understand the +nature of the conflict in the desperate woman's breast. She could not +be wicked all at once. Against every fresh sin she made a fresh +struggle, and she would not accept the lie which the artist tried to +force upon her. + +"I do not think that there is any deficiency in my stepdaughter's +intellect," she said, resolutely. + +She was beginning to understand that Paul Marchmont wanted to ally +himself with her against the orphan heiress, but as yet she did not +understand why he should do so. She was slow to comprehend feelings +that were utterly foreign to her own nature. There was so little of +mercenary baseness in this strange woman's soul, that had the flame of +a candle alone stood between her and the possession of Marchmont +Towers, I doubt if she would have cared to waste a breath upon its +extinction. She had lived away from the world, and out of the world; +and it was difficult for her to comprehend the mean and paltry +wickedness which arise out of the worship of Baal. + +Paul Marchmont recoiled a little before the straight answer which the +widow had given him. + +"You think Miss Marchmont strong-minded, then, perhaps?" he said. + +"No; not strong minded." + +"My dear Mrs. Marchmont, you deal in paradoxes," exclaimed the artist. +"You say that your stepdaughter is neither weak-minded nor +strong-minded?" + +"Weak enough, perhaps, to be easily influenced by other people; weak +enough to believe anything my cousin Edward Arundel might choose to +tell her; but not what is generally called deficient in intellect." + +"You think her perfectly able to take care of herself?" + +"Yes; I think so." + +"And yet this running away looks almost as if----. But I have no wish +to force any unpleasant belief upon you, my dear madam. I think--as you +yourself appear to suggest--that the best thing we can do is to get +this poor girl home again as quickly as possible. It will never do for +the mistress of Marchmont Towers to be wandering about the world with +Mr. Edward Arundel. Pray pardon me, Mrs. Marchmont, if I speak rather +disrespectfully of your cousin; but I really cannot think that the +gentleman has acted very honourably in this business." + +Olivia was silent. She remembered the passionate indignation of the +young soldier, the angry defiance hurled at her, as Edward Arundel +galloped away from the gaunt western facade. She remembered these +things, and involuntarily contrasted them with the smooth blandness of +Paul Marchmont's talk, and the deadly purpose lurking beneath it--of +which deadly purpose some faint suspicion was beginning to dawn upon +her. + +If she could have thought Mary Marchmont mad,--if she could have +thought Edward Arundel base, she would have been glad; for then there +would have been some excuse for her own wickedness. But she could not +think so. She slipped little by little down into the black gulf; now +dragged by her own mad passion; now lured yet further downward by Paul +Marchmont. + +Between this man and eleven thousand a year the life of a fragile girl +was the solitary obstacle. For three years it had been so, and for +three years Paul Marchmont had waited--patiently, as it was his habit +to wait--the hour and the opportunity for action. The hour and +opportunity had come, and this woman, Olivia Marchmont, only stood in +his way. She must become either his enemy or his tool, to be baffled or +to be made useful. He had now sounded the depths of her nature, and he +determined to make her his tool. + +"It shall be my business to discover this poor child's hiding-place," +he said; "when that is found I will communicate with you, and I know +you will not refuse to fulfil the trust confided to you by your late +husband. You will bring your stepdaughter back to this house, and +henceforward protect her from the dangerous influence of Edward +Arundel." + +Olivia looked at the speaker with an expression which seemed like +terror. It was as if she said,-- + +"Are you the devil, that you hold out this temptation to me, and twist +my own passions to serve your purpose?" + +And then she paltered with her conscience. + +"Do you consider that it is my duty to do this?" she asked. + +"My dear Mrs. Marchmont, most decidedly." + +"I will do it, then. I--I--wish to do my duty." + +"And you can perform no greater act of charity than by bringing this +unhappy girl back to a sense of _her_ duty. Remember, that her +reputation, her future happiness, may fall a sacrifice to this foolish +conduct, which, I regret to say, is very generally known in the +neighbourhood. Forgive me if I express my opinion too freely; but I +cannot help thinking, that if Mr. Arundel's intentions had been +strictly honourable, he would have written to you before this, to tell +you that his search for the missing girl had failed; or, in the event +of his finding her, he would have taken the earliest opportunity of +bringing her back to her own home. My poor cousin's somewhat +unprotected position, her wealth, and her inexperience of the world, +place her at the mercy of a fortune-hunter; and Mr. Arundel has himself +to thank if his conduct gives rise to the belief that he wishes to +compromise this girl in the eyes of the scandalous, and thus make sure +of your consent to a marriage which would give him command of my +cousin's fortune." + +Olivia Marchmont's bosom heaved with the stormy beating of her heart. +Was she to sit calmly by and hold her peace while this man slandered +the brave young soldier, the bold, reckless, generous-hearted lad, who +had shone upon her out of the darkness of her life, as the very +incarnation of all that is noble and admirable in mankind? Was she to +sit quietly by and hear a stranger lie away her kinsman's honour, +truth, and manhood? + +Yes, she must do so. This man had offered her a price for her truth and +her soul. He was ready to help her to the revenge she longed for. He +was ready to give her his aid in separating the innocent young lovers, +whose pure affection had poisoned her life, whose happiness was worse +than the worst death to her. She kept silent, therefore, and waited for +Paul to speak again. + +"I will go up to Town to-morrow, and set to work about this business," +the artist said, as he rose to take leave of Mrs. Marchmont. "I do not +believe that I shall have much difficulty in finding the young lady's +hiding-place. My first task shall be to look for Mr. Arundel. You can +perhaps give me the address of some place in London where your cousin +is in the habit of staying?" + +"I can." + +"Thank you; that will very much simplify matters. I shall write you +immediate word of any discovery I make, and will then leave all the +rest to you. My influence over Mary Marchmont as an entire stranger +could be nothing. Yours, on the contrary, must be unbounded. It will be +for you to act upon my letter." + + * * * * * + +Olivia Marchmont waited for two days and nights for the promised +letter. Upon the third morning it came. The artist's epistle was very +brief: + +"MY DEAR MRS. MARCHMONT,--I have made the necessary discovery. Miss +Marchmont is to be found at the White Hart Inn, Milldale, near +Winchester. May I venture to urge your proceeding there in search of +her without delay? + +"Yours very faithfully, + +"PAUL MARCHMONT. + +"_Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square,_ +"_Aug._ 15_th_." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +RISEN FROM THE GRAVE. + + +The rain dripped ceaselessly upon the dreary earth under a grey +November sky,--a dull and lowering sky, that seemed to brood over this +lower world with some menace of coming down to blot out and destroy it. +The express-train, rushing headlong across the wet flats of +Lincolnshire, glared like a meteor in the gray fog; the dismal shriek +of the engine was like the cry of a bird of prey. The few passengers +who had chosen that dreary winter's day for their travels looked +despondently out at the monotonous prospect, seeking in vain to descry +some spot of hope in the joyless prospect; or made futile attempts to +read their newspapers by the dim light of the lamp in the roof of the +carriage. Sulky passengers shuddered savagely as they wrapped +themselves in huge woollen rugs or ponderous coverings made from the +skins of wild beasts. Melancholy passengers drew grotesque and hideous +travelling-caps over their brows, and, coiling themselves in the corner +of their seats, essayed to sleep away the weary hours. Everything upon +this earth seemed dismal and damp, cold and desolate, incongruous and +uncomfortable. + +But there was one first-class passenger in that Lincolnshire express +who made himself especially obnoxious to his fellows by the display of +an amount of restlessness and superabundant energy quite out of keeping +with the lazy despondency of those about him. + +This was a young man with a long tawny beard and a white face,--a very +handsome face, though wan and attenuated, as if with some terrible +sickness, and somewhat disfigured by certain strappings of plaister, +which were bound about a patch of his skull a little above the left +temple. This young man had one side of the carriage to himself; and a +sort of bed had been made up for him with extra cushions, upon which he +lay at full length, when he was still, which was never for very long +together. He was enveloped almost to the chin in voluminous +railway-rugs, but, in spite of these coverings, shuddered every now and +then, as if with cold. He had a pocket-pistol amongst his travelling +paraphernalia, which he applied occasionally to his dry lips. Sometimes +drops of perspiration broke suddenly out upon his forehead, and were +brushed away by a tremulous hand, that was scarcely strong enough to +hold a cambric handkerchief. In short, it was sufficiently obvious to +every one that this young man with the tawny beard had only lately +risen from a sick-bed, and had risen therefrom considerably before the +time at which any prudent medical practitioner would have given him +licence to do so. + +It was evident that he was very, very ill, but that he was, if +anything, more ill at ease in mind than in body; and that some terrible +gnawing anxiety, some restless care, some horrible uncertainty or +perpetual foreboding of trouble, would not allow him to be at peace. It +was as much as the three fellow-passengers who sat opposite to him +could do to bear with his impatience, his restlessness, his short +half-stifled moans, his long weary sighs; the horror of his fidgety +feet shuffled incessantly upon the cushions; the suddenly convulsive +jerks with which he would lift himself upon his elbow to stare fiercely +into the dismal fog outside the carriage window; the groans that were +wrung from him as he flung himself into new and painful positions; the +frightful aspect of physical agony which came over his face as he +looked at his watch,--and he drew out and consulted that ill-used +chronometer, upon an average, once in a quarter of an hour; his +impatient crumpling of the crisp leaves of a new "Bradshaw," which he +turned over ever and anon, as if, by perpetual reference to that +mysterious time-table, he might hasten the advent of the hour at which +he was to reach his destination. He was, altogether, a most aggravating +and exasperating travelling companion; and it was only out of Christian +forbearance with the weakness of his physical state that his irritated +fellow-passengers refrained from uniting themselves against him, and +casting him bodily out of the window of the carriage; as a clown +sometimes flings a venerable but tiresome pantaloon through a square +trap or pitfall, lurking, undreamed of, in the facade of an honest +tradesman's dwelling. + +The three passengers had, in divers manners, expressed their sympathy +with the invalid traveller; but their courtesies had not been responded +to with any evidence of gratitude or heartiness. The young man had +answered his companions in an absent fashion, scarcely deigning to look +at them as he spoke;--speaking altogether with the air of some +sleep-walker, who roams hither and thither absorbed in a dreadful +dream, making a world for himself, and peopling it with horrible images +unknown to those about him. + +Had he been ill?--Yes, very ill. He had had a railway accident, and +then brain-fever. He had been ill for a long time. + +Somebody asked him how long. + +He shuffled about upon the cushions, and groaned aloud at this +question, to the alarm of the man who had asked it. + +"How long?" he cried, in a fierce agony of mental or bodily +uneasiness;--"how long? Two months,--three months,--ever since the 15th +of August." + +Then another passenger, looking at the young man's very evident +sufferings from a commercial point of view, asked him whether he had +had any compensation. + +"Compensation!" cried the invalid. "What compensation?" + +"Compensation from the Railway Company. I hope you've a strong case +against them, for you've evidently been a terrible sufferer." + +It was dreadful to see the way in which the sick man writhed under this +question. + +"Compensation!" he cried. "What compensation can they give me for an +accident that shut me in a living grave for three months, that +separated me from----? You don't know what you're talking about, sir," +he added suddenly; "I can't think of this business patiently; I can't +be reasonable. If they'd hacked _me_ to pieces, I shouldn't have cared. +I've been under a red-hot Indian sun, when we fellows couldn't see the +sky above us for the smoke of the cannons and the flashing of the +sabres about our heads, and I'm not afraid of a little cutting and +smashing more or less; but when I think what others may have suffered +through----I'm almost mad, and----!" + +He couldn't say any more, for the intensity of his passion had shaken +him as a leaf is shaken by a whirlwind; and he fell back upon the +cushions, trembling in every limb, and groaning aloud. His +fellow-passengers looked at each other rather nervously, and two out of +the three entertained serious thoughts of changing carriages when the +express stopped midway between London and Lincoln. + +But they were reassured by-and-by; for the invalid, who was Captain +Edward Arundel, or that pale shadow of the dashing young cavalry +officer which had risen from a sick-bed, relapsed into silence, and +displayed no more alarming symptoms than that perpetual restlessness +and disquietude which is cruelly wearying even to the strongest nerves. +He only spoke once more, and that was when the short day, in which +there had been no actual daylight, was closing in, and the journey +nearly finished, when he startled his companions by crying out +suddenly,-- + +"O my God! will this journey never come to an end? Shall I never be put +out of this horrible suspense?" + +The journey, or at any rate Captain Arundel's share of it, came to an +end almost immediately afterwards, for the train stopped at +Swampington; and while the invalid was staggering feebly to his feet, +eager to scramble out of the carriage, his servant came to the door to +assist and support him. + +"You seem to have borne the journey wonderful, sir," the man said +respectfully, as he tried to rearrange his master's wrappings, and to +do as much as circumstances, and the young man's restless impatience, +would allow of being done for his comfort. + +"I have suffered the tortures of the infernal regions, Morrison," +Captain Arundel ejaculated, in answer to his attendant's congratulatory +address. "Get me a fly directly; I must go to the Towers at once." + +"Not to-night, sir, surely?" the servant remonstrated, in a tone of +alarm. "Your Mar and the doctors said you _must_ rest at Swampington +for a night." + +"I'll rest nowhere till I've been to Marchmont Towers," answered the +young soldier passionately. "If I must walk there,--if I'm to drop down +dead on the road,--I'll go. If the cornfields between this and the +Towers were a blazing prairie or a raging sea, I'd go. Get me a fly, +man; and don't talk to me of my mother or the doctors. I'm going to +look for my wife. Get me a fly." + +This demand for a commonplace hackney vehicle sounded rather like an +anti-climax, after the young man's talk of blazing prairies and raging +seas; but passionate reality has no ridiculous side, and Edward +Arundel's most foolish words were sublime by reason of their +earnestness. + +"Get me a fly, Morrison," he said, grinding his heel upon the platform +in the intensity of his impatience. "Or, stay; we should gain more in +the end if you were to go to the George--it's not ten minutes' walk +from here; one of the porters will take you--the people there know me, +and they'll let you have some vehicle, with a pair of horses and a +clever driver. Tell them it's for an errand of life and death, and that +Captain Arundel will pay them three times their usual price, or six +times, if they wish. Tell them anything, so long as you get what we +want." + +The valet, an old servant of Edward Arundel's father, was carried away +by the young man's mad impetuosity. The vitality of this broken-down +invalid, whose physical weakness contrasted strangely with his mental +energy, bore down upon the grave man-servant like an avalanche, and +carried him whither it would. He was fain to abandon all hope of being +true to the promises which he had given to Mrs. Arundel and the medical +men, and to yield himself to the will of the fiery young soldier. + +He left Edward Arundel sitting upon a chair in the solitary +waiting-room, and hurried after the porter who had volunteered to show +him the way to the George Inn, the most prosperous hotel in +Swampington. + +The valet had good reason to be astonished by his young master's energy +and determination; for Mary Marchmont's husband was as one rescued from +the very jaws of death. For eleven weeks after that terrible concussion +upon the South-Western Railway, Edward Arundel had lain in a state of +coma,--helpless, mindless; all the story of his life blotted away, and +his brain transformed into as blank a page as if he had been an infant +lying on his mother's knees. A fractured skull had been the young +Captain's chief share in those injuries which were dealt out pretty +freely to the travellers in the Exeter mail on the 15th of August; and +the young man had been conveyed to Dangerfield Park, whilst his +father's corpse lay in stately solemnity in one of the chief rooms, +almost as much a corpse as that dead father. + +Mrs. Arundel's troubles had come, as the troubles of rich and +prosperous people often do come, in a sudden avalanche, that threatened +to overwhelm the tender-hearted matron. She had been summoned from +Germany to attend her husband's deathbed; and she was called away from +her faithful watch beside that deathbed, to hear tidings of the +accident that had befallen her younger son. + +Neither the Dorsetshire doctor who attended the stricken traveller upon +his homeward journey, and brought the strong man, helpless as a child, +to claim the same tender devotion that had watched over his infancy, +nor the Devonshire doctors who were summoned to Dangerfield, gave any +hope of their patient's recovery. The sufferer might linger for years, +they said; but his existence would be only a living death, a horrible +blank, which it was a cruelty to wish prolonged. But when a great +London surgeon appeared upon the scene, a new light, a wonderful gleam +of hope, shone in upon the blackness of the mother's despair. + +This great London surgeon, who was a very unassuming and matter-of-fact +little man, and who seemed in a great hurry to earn his fee and run +back to Saville Row by the next express, made a brief examination of +the patient, asked a very few sharp and trenchant questions of the +reverential provincial medical practitioners, and then declared that +the chief cause of Edward Arundel's state lay in the fact that a +portion of the skull was depressed,--a splinter pressed upon the brain. + +The provincial practitioners opened their eyes very wide; and one of +them ventured to mutter something to the effect that he had thought as +much for a long time. The London surgeon further stated, that until the +pressure was removed from the patient's brain, Captain Edward Arundel +would remain in precisely the same state as that into which he had +fallen immediately upon the accident. The splinter could only be +removed by a very critical operation, and this operation must be +deferred until the patient's bodily strength was in some measure +restored. + +The surgeon gave brief but decisive directions to the provincial +medical men as to the treatment of their patient during this +interregnum, and then departed, after promising to return as soon as +Captain Arundel was in a fit state for the operation. This period did +not arrive till the first week in November, when the Devonshire doctors +ventured to declare their patient's shattered frame in a great measure +renovated by their devoted attention, and the tender care of the best +of mothers. + +The great surgeon came. The critical operation was performed, with such +eminent success as to merit a very long description, which afterwards +appeared in the _Lancet_; and slowly, like the gradual lifting of a +curtain, the black shadows passed away from Edward Arundel's mind, and +the memory of the past returned to him. + +It was then that he raved madly about his young wife, perpetually +demanding that she might be summoned to him; continually declaring that +some great misfortune would befall her if she were not brought to his +side, that, even in his feebleness, he might defend and protect her. +His mother mistook his vehemence for the raving of delirium. The +doctors fell into the same error, and treated him for brain-fever. It +was only when the young soldier demonstrated to them that he could, by +making an effort over himself, be as reasonable as they were, that he +convinced them of their mistake. Then he begged to be left alone with +his mother; and, with his feverish hands clasped in hers, asked her the +meaning of her black dress, and the reason why his young wife had not +come to him. He learned that his mother's mourning garments were worn +in memory of his dead father. He learned also, after much bewilderment +and passionate questioning, that no tidings of Mary Marchmont had ever +come to Dangerfield. + +It was then that the young man told his mother the story of his +marriage: how that marriage had been contracted in haste, but with no +real desire for secrecy; how he had, out of mere idleness, put off +writing to his friends until that last fatal night; and how, at the +very moment when the pen was in his hand and the paper spread out +before him, the different claims of a double duty had torn him asunder, +and he had been summoned from the companionship of his bride to the +deathbed of his father. + +Mrs. Arundel tried in vain to set her son's mind at rest upon the +subject of his wife's silence. + +"No, mother!" he cried; "it is useless talking to me. You don't know my +poor darling. She has the courage of a heroine, as well as the +simplicity of a child. There has been some foul play at the bottom of +this; it is treachery that has kept my wife from me. She would have +come here on foot, had she been free to come. I know whose hand is in +this business. Olivia Marchmont has kept my poor girl a prisoner; +Olivia Marchmont has set herself between me and my darling!" + +"But you don't know this, Edward. I'll write to Mr. Paulette; he will +be able to tell us what has happened." + +The young man writhed in a sudden paroxysm of mental agony. + +"Write to Mr. Paulette!" he exclaimed. "No, mother; there shall be no +delay, no waiting for return-posts. That sort of torture would kill me +in a few hours. No, mother; I will go to my wife by the first train +that will take me on my way to Lincolnshire." + +"You will go! You, Edward! in your state!" + +There was a terrible outburst of remonstrance and entreaty on the part +of the poor mother. Mrs. Arundel went down upon her knees before her +son, imploring him not to leave Dangerfield till his strength was +recovered; imploring him to let her telegraph a summons to Richard +Paulette; to let her go herself to Marchmont Towers in search of Mary; +to do anything rather than carry out the one mad purpose that he was +bent on,--the purpose of going himself to look for his wife. + +The mother's tears and prayers were vain; no adamant was ever firmer +than the young soldier. + +"She is my wife, mother," he said; "I have sworn to protect and cherish +her; and I have reason to think she has fallen into merciless hands. If +I die upon the road, I must go to her. It is not a case in which I can +do my duty by proxy. Every moment I delay is a wrong to that poor +helpless girl. Be reasonable, dear mother, I implore you; I should +suffer fifty times more by the torture of suspense if I stayed here, +than I can possibly suffer in a railroad journey from here to +Lincolnshire." + +The soldier's strong will triumphed over every opposition. The +provincial doctors held up their hands, and protested against the +madness of their patient; but without avail. All that either Mrs. +Arundel or the doctors could do, was to make such preparations and +arrangements as would render the weary journey easier; and it was under +the mother's superintendence that the air-cushions, the brandy-flasks, +the hartshorn, sal-volatile, and railway-rugs, had been provided for +the Captain's comfort. + +It was thus that, after a blank interval of three months, Edward +Arundel, like some creature newly risen from the grave, returned to +Swampington, upon his way to Marchmont Towers. + +The delay seemed endless to this restless passenger, sitting in the +empty waiting-room of the quiet Lincolnshire station, though the ostler +and stable-boys at the "George" were bestirring themselves with +good-will, urged on by Mr. Morrison's promises of liberal reward for +their trouble, and though the man who was to drive the carriage lost no +time in arraying himself for the journey. Captain Arundel looked at his +watch three times while he sat in that dreary Swampington waiting-room. +There was a clock over the mantelpiece, but he would not trust to that. + +"Eight o'clock!" he muttered. "It will be ten before I get to the +Towers, if the carriage doesn't come directly." + +He got up, and walked from the waiting-room to the platform, and from +the platform to the door of the station. He was so weak as to be +obliged to support himself with his stick; and even with that help he +tottered and reeled sometimes like a drunken man. But, in his eager +impatience, he was almost unconscious of his own weakness. + +"Will it never come?" he muttered. "Will it never come?" + +At last, after an intolerable delay, as it seemed to the young man, the +carriage-and-pair from the George Inn rattled up to the door of the +station, with Mr. Morrison upon the box, and a postillion loosely +balanced upon one of the long-legged, long-backed, bony grey horses. +Edward Arundel got into the vehicle before his valet could alight to +assist him. + +"Marchmont Towers!" he cried to the postillion; "and a five-pound note +if you get there in less than an hour." + +He flung some money to the officials who had gathered about the door to +witness his departure, and who had eagerly pressed forward to render +him that assistance which, even in his weakness, he disdained. + +These men looked gravely at each other as the carriage dashed off into +the fog, blundering and reeling as it went along the narrow half-made +road, that led from the desert patch of waste ground upon which the +station was built into the high-street of Swampington. + +"Marchmont Towers!" said one of the men, in a tone that seemed to imply +that there was something ominous even in the name of the Lincolnshire +mansion. "What does _he_ want at Marchmont Towers, I wonder?" + +"Why, don't you know who he is, mate?" responded the other man, +contemptuously. + +"No." + +"He's Parson Arundel's nevy,--the young officer that some folks said +ran away with the poor young miss oop at the Towers." + +"My word! is he now? Why, I shouldn't ha' known him." + +"No; he's a'most like the ghost of what he was, poor young chap. I've +heerd as he was in that accident as happened last August on the +Sou'-Western." + +The railway official shrugged his shoulders. + +"It's all a queer story," he said. "I can't make out naught about it; +but I know _I_ shouldn't care to go up to the Towers after dark." + +Marchmont Towers had evidently fallen into rather evil repute amongst +these simple Lincolnshire people. + + * * * * * + +The carriage in which Edward Arundel rode was a superannuated old +chariot, whose uneasy springs rattled and shook the sick man to pieces. +He groaned aloud every now and then from sheer physical agony; and yet +I almost doubt if he knew that he suffered, so superior in its +intensity was the pain of his mind to every bodily torture. Whatever +consciousness he had of his racked and aching limbs was as nothing in +comparison to the racking anguish of suspense, the intolerable agony of +anxiety, which seemed multiplied by every moment. He sat with his face +turned towards the open window of the carriage, looking out steadily +into the night. There was nothing before him but a blank darkness and +thick fog, and a flat country blotted out by the falling rain; but he +strained his eyes until the pupils dilated painfully, in his desire to +recognise some landmark in the hidden prospect. + +"_When_ shall I get there?" he cried aloud, in a paroxysm of rage and +grief. "My own one, my pretty one, my wife, when shall I get to you?" + +He clenched his thin hands until the nails cut into his flesh. He +stamped upon the floor of the carriage. He cursed the rusty, creaking +springs, the slow-footed horses, the pools of water through which the +wretched animals floundered pastern-deep. He cursed the darkness of the +night, the stupidity of the postillion, the length of the +way,--everything, and anything, that kept him back from the end which +he wanted to reach. + +At last the end came. The carriage drew up before the tall iron gates, +behind which stretched, dreary and desolate as some patch of +common-land, that melancholy waste which was called a park. + +A light burned dimly in the lower window of the lodge,--a little spot +that twinkled faintly red and luminous through the darkness and the +rain; but the iron gates were as closely shut as if Marchmont Towers +had been a prison-house. Edward Arundel was in no humour to linger long +for the opening of those gates. He sprang from the carriage, reckless +of the weakness of his cramped limbs, before the valet could descend +from the rickety box-seat, or the postillion could get off his horse, +and shook the wet and rusty iron bars with his own wasted hands. The +gates rattled, but resisted the concussion; they had evidently been +locked for the night. The young man seized an iron ring, dangling at +the end of a chain, which hung beside one of the stone pillars, and +rang a peal that resounded like an alarm-signal through the darkness. A +fierce watchdog far away in the distance howled dismally at the +summons, and the dissonant shriek of a peacock sounded across the flat. + +The door of the lodge was opened about five minutes after the bell had +rung, and an old man peered out into the night, holding a candle shaded +by his feeble hand, and looking suspiciously towards the gate. + +"Who is it?" he said. + +"It is I, Captain Arundel. Open the gate, please." + +The man, who was very old, and whose intellect seemed to have grown as +dim and foggy as the night itself, reflected for a few moments, and +then mumbled,-- + +"Cap'en Arundel! Ay, to be sure, to be sure. Parson Arundel's nevy; ay, +ay." + +He went back into the lodge, to the disgust and aggravation of the +young soldier, who rattled fiercely at the gate once more in his +impatience. But the old man emerged presently, as tranquil as if the +blank November night had been some sunshiny noontide in July, carrying +a lantern and a bunch of keys, one of which he proceeded in a leisurely +manner to apply to the great lock of the gate. + +"Let me in!" cried Edward Arundel. "Man alive! do you think I came down +here to stand all night staring through these iron bars? Is Marchmont +Towers a prison, that you shut your gates as if they were never to be +opened until the Day of Judgment?" + +The old man responded with a feeble, chirpy laugh, an audible grin, +senile and conciliatory. + +"We've no need to keep t' geates open arter dark," he said; "folk +doan't coome to the Toowers arter dark." + +He had succeeded by this time in turning the key in the lock; one of +the gates rolled slowly back upon its rusty hinges, creaking and +groaning as if in hoarse protest against all visitors to the Towers; +and Edward Arundel entered the dreary domain which John Marchmont had +inherited from his kinsman. + +The postillion turned his horses from the highroad without the gates +into the broad drive leading up to the mansion. Far away, across the +wet flats, the broad western front of that gaunt stone dwelling-place +frowned upon the travellers, its black grimness only relieved by two or +three dim red patches, that told of lighted windows and human +habitation. It was rather difficult to associate friendly flesh and +blood with Marchmont Towers on this dark November night. The nervous +traveller would have rather expected to find diabolical denizens +lurking within those black and stony walls; hideous enchantments +beneath that rain-bespattered roof; weird and incarnate horrors +brooding by deserted hearths, and fearful shrieks of souls in perpetual +pain breaking upon the stillness of the night. + +Edward Arundel had no thought of these things. He knew that the place +was darksome and gloomy, and that, in very spite of himself, he had +always been unpleasantly impressed by it; but he knew nothing more. He +only wanted to reach the house without delay, and to ask for the young +wife whom he had parted with upon a balmy August evening three months +before. He wanted this passionately, almost madly; and every moment +made his impatience wilder, his anxiety more intense. It seemed as if +all the journey from Dangerfield Park to Lincolnshire was as nothing +compared to the space that still lay between him and Marchmont Towers. + +"We've done it in double-quick time, sir," the postillion said, +complacently pointing to the steaming sides of his horses. "Master'll +gie it to me for driving the beasts like this." + +Edward Arundel looked at the panting animals. They had brought him +quickly, then, though the way had seemed so long. + +"You shall have a five-pound note, my lad," he said, "if you get me up +to yonder house in five minutes." + +He had his hand upon the door of the carriage, and was leaning against +it for support, while he tried to recover enough strength with which to +clamber into the vehicle, when his eye was caught by some white object +flapping in the rain against the stone pillar of the gate, and made +dimly visible in a flickering patch of light from the lodge-keeper's +lantern. + +"What's that?" he cried, pointing to this white spot upon the +moss-grown stone. + +The old man slowly raised his eyes to the spot towards which the +soldier's finger pointed. + +"That?" he mumbled. "Ay, to be sure, to be sure. Poor young lady! +That's the printed bill as they stook oop. It's the printed bill, to be +sure, to be sure. I'd a'most forgot it. It ain't been much good, +anyhow; and I'd a'most forgot it." + +"The printed bill! the young lady!" gasped Edward Arundel, in a hoarse, +choking voice. + +He snatched the lantern from the lodge-keeper's hand with a force that +sent the old man reeling and tottering several paces backward; and, +rushing to the stone pillar, held the light up above his head, on a +level with the white placard which had attracted his notice. It was +damp and dilapidated at the edges; but that which was printed upon it +was as visible to the soldier as though each commonplace character had +been a fiery sign inscribed upon a blazing scroll. + +This was the announcement which Edward Arundel read upon the gate-post +of Marchmont Towers:-- + +"ONE HUNDRED POUNDS REWARD.--Whereas Miss Mary Marchmont left her home +on Wednesday last, October 17th, and has not since been heard of, this +is to give notice that the above reward will be given to any one who +shall afford such information as will lead to her recovery if she be +alive, or to the discovery of her body if she be dead. The missing +young lady is eighteen years of age, rather below the middle height, of +fair complexion, light-brown hair, and hazel eyes. When she left her +home, she had on a grey silk dress, grey shawl, and straw bonnet. She +was last seen near the river-side upon the afternoon of Wednesday, the +17th instant. +"_Marchmont Towers, October_ 20_th_, 1848." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +FACE TO FACE. + + +It is not easy to imagine a lion-hearted young cavalry officer, whose +soldiership in the Punjaub had won the praises of a Napier and an +Outram, fainting away like a heroine of romance at the coming of evil +tidings; but Edward Arundel, who had risen from a sick-bed to take a +long and fatiguing journey in utter defiance of the doctors, was not +strong enough to bear the dreadful welcome that greeted him upon the +gate-post at Marchmont Towers. + +He staggered, and would have fallen, had not the extended arms of his +father's confidential servant been luckily opened to receive and +support him. But he did not lose his senses. + +"Get me into the carriage, Morrison," he cried. "Get me up to that +house. They've tortured and tormented my wife while I've been lying +like a log on my bed at Dangerfield. For God's sake, get me up there as +quick as you can!" + +Mr. Morrison had read the placard on the gate across his young master's +shoulder. He lifted the Captain into the carriage, shouted to the +postillion to drive on, and took his seat by the young man's side. + +"Begging you pardon, Mr. Edward," he said, gently; "but the young lady +may be found by this time. That bill's been sticking there for upwards +of a month, you see, sir, and it isn't likely but what Miss Marchmont +has been found between that time and this." + +The invalid passed his hand across his forehead, down which the cold +sweat rolled in great beads. + +"Give me some brandy," he whispered; "pour some brandy down my throat, +Morrison, if you've any compassion upon me; I must get strength somehow +for the struggle that lies before me." + +The valet took a wicker-covered flask from his pocket, and put the neck +of it to Edward Arundel's lips. + +"She may be found, Morrison," muttered the young man, after drinking a +long draught of the fiery spirit; he would willingly have drunk living +fire itself, in his desire to obtain unnatural strength in this crisis. +"Yes; you're right there. She may be found. But to think that she +should have been driven away! To think that my poor, helpless, tender +girl should have been driven a second time from the home that is her +own! Yes; her own by every law and every right. Oh, the relentless +devil, the pitiless devil!--what can be the motive of her conduct? Is +it madness, or the infernal cruelty of a fiend incarnate?" + +Mr. Morrison thought that his young master's brain had been disordered +by the shock he had just undergone, and that this wild talk was mere +delirium. + +"Keep your heart up, Mr. Edward," he murmured, soothingly; "you may +rely upon it, the young lady has been found." + +But Edward was in no mind to listen to any mild consolatory remarks +from his valet. He had thrust his head out of the carriage-window, and +his eyes were fixed upon the dimly-lighted casements of the western +drawing-room. + +"The room in which John and Polly and I used to sit together when first +I came from India," he murmured. "How happy we were!--how happy we +were!" + +The carriage stopped before the stone portico, and the young man got +out once more, assisted by his servant. His breath came short and quick +now that he stood upon the threshold. He pushed aside the servant who +opened the familiar door at the summons of the clanging bell, and +strode into the hall. A fire burned on the wide hearth; but the +atmosphere of the great stone-paved chamber was damp and chilly. + +Captain Arundel walked straight to the door of the western +drawing-room. It was there that he had seen lights in the windows; it +was there that he expected to find Olivia Marchmont. + +He was not mistaken. A shaded lamp burnt dimly on a table near the +fire. There was a low invalid-chair beside this table, an open book +upon the floor, and an Indian shawl, one he had sent to his cousin, +flung carelessly upon the pillows. The neglected fire burned low in the +old-fashioned grate, and above the dull-red blaze stood the figure of a +woman, tall, dark, and gloomy of aspect. + +It was Olivia Marchmont, in the mourning-robes that she had worn, with +but one brief intermission, ever since her husband's death. Her profile +was turned towards the door by which Edward Arundel entered the room; +her eyes were bent steadily upon the low heap of burning ashes in the +grate. Even in that doubtful light the young man could see that her +features were sharpened, and that a settled frown had contracted her +straight black brows. + +In her fixed attitude, in her air of deathlike tranquillity, this woman +resembled some sinful vestal sister, set, against her will, to watch a +sacred fire, and brooding moodily over her crimes. + +She did not hear the opening of the door; she had not even heard the +trampling of the horses' hoofs, or the crashing of the wheels upon the +gravel before the house. There were times when her sense of external +things was, as it were, suspended and absorbed in the intensity of her +obstinate despair. + +"Olivia!" said the soldier. + +Mrs. Marchmont looked up at the sound of that accusing voice, for there +was something in Edward Arundel's simple enunciation of her name which +seemed like an accusation or a menace. She looked up, with a great +terror in her face, and stared aghast at her unexpected visitor. Her +white cheeks, her trembling lips, and dilated eyes could not have more +palpably expressed a great and absorbing horror, had the young man +standing quietly before her been a corpse newly risen from its grave. + +"Olivia Marchmont," said Captain Arundel, after a brief pause, "I have +come here to look for my wife." + +The woman pushed her trembling hands across her forehead, brushing the +dead black hair from her temples, and still staring with the same +unutterable horror at the face of her cousin. Several times she tried +to speak; but the broken syllables died away in her throat in hoarse, +inarticulate mutterings. At last, with a great effort, the words came. + +"I--I--never expected to see you," she said; "I heard that you were +very ill; I heard that you----" + +"You heard that I was dying," interrupted Edward Arundel; "or that, if +I lived, I should drag out the rest of my existence in hopeless idiocy. +The doctors thought as much a week ago, when one of them, cleverer than +the rest I suppose, had the courage to perform an operation that +restored me to consciousness. Sense and memory came back to me by +degrees. The thick veil that had shrouded the past was rent asunder; +and the first image that came to me was the image of my young wife, as +I had seen her upon the night of our parting. For more than three +months I had been dead. I was suddenly restored to life. I asked those +about me to give me tidings of my wife. Had she sought me out?--had she +followed me to Dangerfield? No! They could tell me nothing. They +thought that I was delirious, and tried to soothe me with compassionate +speeches, merciful falsehoods, promising me that I should see my +darling. But I soon read the secret of their scared looks. I saw pity +and wonder mingled in my mother's face, and I entreated her to be +merciful to me, and to tell me the truth. She had compassion upon me, +and told me all she knew, which was very little. She had never heard +from my wife. She had never heard of any marriage between Mary +Marchmont and me. The only communication which she had received from +any of her Lincolnshire relations had been a letter from my uncle +Hubert, in reply to one of hers telling him of my hopeless state. + +"This was the shock that fell upon me when life and memory came back. I +could not bear the imprisonment of a sick-bed. I felt that for the +second time I must go out into the world to look for my darling; and in +defiance of the doctors, in defiance of my poor mother, who thought +that my departure from Dangerfield was a suicide, I am here. It is here +that I come first to seek for my wife. I might have stopped in London +to see Richard Paulette; I might sooner have gained tidings of my +darling. But I came here; I came here without stopping by the way, +because an uncontrollable instinct and an unreasoning impulse tells me +that it is here I ought to seek her. I am here, her husband, her only +true and legitimate defender; and woe be to those who stand between me +and my wife!" + +He had spoken rapidly in his passion; and he stopped, exhausted by his +own vehemence, and sank heavily into a chair near the lamplit table. + +Then for the first time that night Olivia Marchmont plainly saw her +cousin's face, and saw the terrible change that had transformed the +handsome young soldier, since the bright August morning on which he had +gone forth from Marchmont Towers. She saw the traces of a long and +wearisome illness sadly visible in his waxen-hued complexion, his +hollow cheeks, the faded lustre of his eyes, his dry and pallid lips. +She saw all this, the woman whose one great sin had been to love this +man wickedly and madly, in spite of her better self, in spite of her +womanly pride; she saw the change in him that had altered him from a +young Apollo to a shattered and broken invalid. And did any revulsion +of feeling arise in her breast? Did any corresponding transformation in +her own heart bear witness to the baseness of her love? + +No; a thousand times, no! There was no thrill of disgust, how transient +soever; not so much as one passing shudder of painful surprise, one +pang of womanly regret. No! In place of these, a passionate yearning +arose in this woman's haughty soul; a flood of sudden tenderness rushed +across the black darkness of her mind. She fain would have flung +herself upon her knees, in loving self-abasement, at the sick man's +feet. She fain would have cried aloud, amid a tempest of passionate +sobs,-- + +"O my love, my love! you are dearer to me a hundred times by this cruel +change. It was _not_ your bright-blue eyes and waving chestnut +hair,--it was not your handsome face, your brave, soldier-like bearing +that I loved. My love was not so base as that. I inflicted a cruel +outrage upon myself when I thought that I was the weak fool of a +handsome face. Whatever _I_ have been, my love, at least, has been +pure. My love is pure, though I am base. I will never slander that +again, for I know now that it is immortal." + +In the sudden rush of that flood-tide of love and tenderness, all these +thoughts welled into Olivia Marchmont's mind. In all her sin and +desperation she had never been so true a woman as now; she had never, +perhaps, been so near being a good woman. But the tender emotion was +swept out of her breast the next moment by the first words of Edward +Arundel. + +"Why do you not answer my question?" he said. + +She drew herself up in the erect and rigid attitude that had become +almost habitual to her. Every trace of womanly feeling faded out of her +face, as the sunlight disappears behind the sudden darkness of a +thundercloud. + +"What question?" she asked, with icy indifference. + +"The question I have come to Lincolnshire to ask--the question I have +perilled my life, perhaps, to ask," cried the young man. "Where is my +wife?" + +The widow turned upon him with a horrible smile. + +"I never heard that you were married," she said. "Who is your wife?" + +"Mary Marchmont, the mistress of this house." + +Olivia opened her eyes, and looked at him in half-sardonic surprise. + +"Then it was not a fable?" she said. + +"What was not a fable?" + +"The unhappy girl spoke the truth when she said that you had married +her at some out-of-the-way church in Lambeth." + +"The truth! Yes!" cried Edward Arundel. "Who should dare to say that +she spoke other than the truth? Who should dare to disbelieve her?" + +Olivia Marchmont smiled again,--that same strange smile which was +almost too horrible for humanity, and yet had a certain dark and gloomy +grandeur of its own. Satan, the star of the morning, may have so smiled +despairing defiance upon the Archangel Michael. + +"Unfortunately," she said, "no one believed the poor child. Her story +was such a very absurd one, and she could bring forward no shred of +evidence in support of it." + +"O my God!" ejaculated Edward Arundel, clasping his hands above his +head in a paroxysm of rage and despair. "I see it all--I see it all! My +darling has been tortured to death. Woman!" he cried, "are you +possessed by a thousand fiends? Is there no one sentiment of womanly +compassion left in your breast? If there is one spark of womanhood in +your nature, I appeal to that; I ask you what has happened to my wife?" + +"My wife! my wife!" The reiteration of that familiar phrase was to +Olivia Marchmont like the perpetual thrust of a dagger aimed at an open +wound. It struck every time upon the same tortured spot, and inflicted +the same agony. + +"The placard upon the gates of this place can tell you as much as I +can," she said. + +The ghastly whiteness of the soldier's face told her that he had seen +the placard of which she spoke. + +"She has not been found, then?" he said, hoarsely. + +"No." + +"How did she disappear?" + +"As she disappeared upon the morning on which you followed her. She +wandered out of the house, this time leaving no letter, nor message, +nor explanation of any kind whatever. It was in the middle of the day +that she went out; and for some time her absence caused no alarm. But, +after some hours, she was waited for and watched for very anxiously. +Then a search was made." + +"Where?" + +"Wherever she had at any time been in the habit of walking,--in the +park; in the wood; along the narrow path by the water; at Pollard's +farm; at Hester's house at Kemberling,--in every place where it might +be reasonably imagined there was the slightest chance of finding her." + +"And all this was without result?" + +"It was." + +"_Why_ did she leave this place? God help you, Olivia Marchmont, if it +was your cruelty that drove her away!" + +The widow took no notice of the threat implied in these words. Was +there anything upon earth that she feared now? No--nothing. Had she not +endured the worst long ago, in Edward Arundel's contempt? She had no +fear of a battle with this man; or with any other creature in the +world; or with the whole world arrayed and banded together against her, +if need were. Amongst all the torments of those black depths to which +her soul had gone down, there was no such thing as fear. That cowardly +baseness is for the happy and prosperous, who have something to lose. +This woman was by nature dauntless and resolute as the hero of some +classic story; but in her despair she had the desperate and reckless +courage of a starving wolf. The hand of death was upon her; what could +it matter how she died? + +"I am very grateful to you, Edward Arundel," she said, bitterly, "for +the good opinion you have always had of me. The blood of the +Dangerfield Arundels must have had some drop of poison intermingled +with it, I should think, before it could produce so vile a creature as +myself; and yet I have heard people say that my mother was a good +woman." + +The young man writhed impatiently beneath the torture of his cousin's +deliberate speech. Was there to be no end to this unendurable delay? +Even now,--now that he was in this house, face to face with the woman +he had come to question--it seemed as if he _could_ not get tidings of +his wife. + +So, often in his dreams, he had headed a besieging-party against the +Affghans, with the scaling-ladders reared against the wall; he had seen +the dark faces grinning down upon him--all savage glaring eyes and +fierce glistening teeth--and had heard the voices of his men urging him +on to the encounter, but had felt himself paralysed and helpless, with +his sabre weak as a withered reed in his nerveless hand. + +"For God's sake, let there be no quarrelling with phrases between you +and me, Olivia!" he cried. "If you or any other living being have +injured my wife, the reckoning between us shall be no light one. But +there will be time enough to talk of that by-and-by. I stand before +you, newly risen from a grave in which I have lain for more than three +months, as dead to the world, and to every creature I have ever loved +or hated, as if the Funeral Service had been read over my coffin. I +come to demand from you an account of what has happened during that +interval. If you palter or prevaricate with me, I shall know that it is +because you fear to tell me the truth." + +"Fear!" + +"Yes; you have good reason to fear, if you have wronged Mary Arundel. +Why did she leave this house?" + +"Because she was not happy in it, I suppose. She chose to shut herself +up in her own room, and to refuse to be governed, or advised, or +consoled. I tried to do my duty to her; yes," cried Olivia Marchmont, +suddenly raising her voice, as if she had been vehemently +contradicted;--"yes, I did try to do my duty to her. I urged her to +listen to reason; I begged her to abandon her foolish falsehood about a +marriage with you in London." + +"You disbelieved in that marriage?" + +"I did," answered Olivia. + +"You lie!" cried Edward Arundel. "You knew the poor child had spoken +the truth. You knew her--you knew me--well enough to know that I should +not have detained her away from her home an hour, except to make her my +wife--except to give myself the strongest right to love and defend +her." + +"I knew nothing of the kind, Captain Arundel; you and Mary Marchmont +had taken good care to keep your secrets from me. I knew nothing of +your plots, your intentions. _I_ should have considered that one of the +Dangerfield Arundels would have thought his honour sullied by such an +act as a stolen marriage with an heiress, considerably under age, and +nominally in the guardianship of her stepmother. I did, therefore, +disbelieve the story Mary Marchmont told me. Another person, much more +experienced than I, also disbelieved the unhappy girl's account of her +absence." + +"Another person! What other person?" + +"Mr. Marchmont." + +"Mr. Marchmont!" + +"Yes; Paul Marchmont,--my husband's first-cousin." + +A sudden cry of rage and grief broke from Edward Arundel's lips. + +"O my God!" he exclaimed, "there was some foundation for the warning in +John Marchmont's letter, after all. And I laughed at him; I laughed at +my poor friend's fears." + +The widow looked at her kinsman in mute wonder. + +"Has Paul Marchmont been in this house?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"When was he here?" + +"He has been here often; he comes here constantly. He has been living +at Kemberling for the last three months." + +"Why?" + +"For his own pleasure, I suppose," Olivia answered haughtily. "It is no +business of mine to pry into Mr. Marchmont's motives." + +Edward Arundel ground his teeth in an access of ungovernable passion. +It was not against Olivia, but against himself this time that he was +enraged. He hated himself for the arrogant folly, the obstinate +presumption, with which he had ridiculed and slighted John Marchmont's +vague fears of his kinsman Paul. + +"So this man has been here,--is here constantly," he muttered. "Of +course, it is only natural that he should hang about the place. And you +and he are stanch allies, I suppose?" he added, turning upon Olivia. + +"Stanch allies! Why?" + +"Because you both hate my wife." + +"What do you mean?" + +"You both hate her. You, out of a base envy of her wealth; because of +her superior rights, which made you a secondary person in this house, +perhaps,--there is nothing else for which you _could_ hate her. Paul +Marchmont, because she stands between him and a fortune. Heaven help +her! Heaven help my poor, gentle, guileless darling! Surely Heaven must +have had some pity upon her when her husband was not by!" + +The young man dashed the blinding tears from his eyes. They were the +first that he had shed since he had risen from that which many people +had thought his dying-bed, to search for his wife. + +But this was no time for tears or lamentations. Stern determination +took the place of tender pity and sorrowful love. It was a time for +resolution and promptitude. + +"Olivia Marchmont," he said, "there has been some foul play in this +business. My wife has been missing a month; yet when I asked my mother +what had happened at this house during my illness, she could tell me +nothing. Why did you not write to tell her of Mary's flight?" + +"Because Mrs. Arundel has never done me the honour to cultivate any +intimacy between us. My father writes to his sister-in-law sometimes; I +scarcely ever write to my aunt. On the other hand, your mother had +never seen Mary Marchmont, and could not be expected to take any great +interest in her proceedings. There was, therefore, no reason for my +writing a special letter to announce the trouble that had befallen me." + +"You might have written to my mother about my marriage. You might have +applied to her for confirmation of the story which you disbelieved." + +Olivia Marchmont smiled. + +"Should I have received that confirmation?" she said. "No. I saw your +mother's letters to my father. There was no mention in those letters of +any marriage; no mention whatever of Mary Marchmont. This in itself was +enough to confirm my disbelief. Was it reasonable to imagine that you +would have married, and yet have left your mother in total ignorance of +the fact?" + +"O God, help me!" cried Edward Arundel, wringing his hands. "It seems +as if my own folly, my own vile procrastination, have brought this +trouble upon my wife. Olivia Marchmont, have pity upon me. If you hate +this girl, your malice must surely have been satisfied by this time. +She has suffered enough. Pity me, and help me; if you have any human +feeling in your breast. She left this house because her life here had +grown unendurable; because she saw herself doubted, disbelieved, +widowed in the first month of her marriage, utterly desolate and +friendless. Another woman might have borne up against all this misery. +Another woman would have known how to assert herself, and to defend +herself, even in the midst of her sorrow and desolation. But my poor +darling is a child; a baby in ignorance of the world. How should _she_ +protect herself against her enemies? Her only instinct was to run away +from her persecutors,--to hide herself from those whose pretended +doubts flung the horror of dishonour upon her. I can understand all +now; I can understand. Olivia Marchmont, this man Paul has a strong +reason for being a villain. The motives that have induced you to do +wrong must be very small in comparison to his. He plays an infamous +game, I believe; but he plays for a high stake." + +A high stake! Had not _she_ perilled her soul upon the casting of this +die? Had _she_ not flung down her eternal happiness in that fatal game +of hazard? + +"Help me, then, Olivia," said Edward, imploringly; "help me to find my +wife; and atone for all that you have ever done amiss in the past. It +is not too late." + +His voice softened as he spoke. He turned to her, with his hands +clasped, waiting anxiously for her answer. Perhaps this appeal was the +last cry of her good angel, pleading against the devils for her +redemption. But the devils had too long held possession of this woman's +breast. They arose, arrogant and unpitying, and hardened her heart +against that pleading voice. + +"How much he loves her!" thought Olivia Marchmont; "how dearly he loves +her! For her sake he humiliates himself to me." + +Then, with no show of relenting in her voice or manner, she said +deliberately: + +"I can only tell you again what I told you before. The placard you saw +at the park-gates can tell you as much as I can. Mary Marchmont ran +away. She was sought for in every direction, but without success. Mr. +Marchmont, who is a man of the world, and better able to suggest what +is right in such a case as this, advised that Mr. Paulette should be +sent for. He was accordingly communicated with. He came, and instituted +a fresh search. He also caused a bill to be printed and distributed +through the country. Advertisements were inserted in the 'Times' and +other papers. For some reason--I forget what reason--Mary Marchmont's +name did not appear in these advertisements. They were so worded as to +render the publication of the name unnecessary." + +Edward Arundel pushed his hand across his forehead. + +"Richard Paulette has been here?" he murmured, in a low voice. + +He had every confidence in the lawyer; and a deadly chill came over him +at the thought that the cool, hard-headed solicitor had failed to find +the missing girl. + +"Yes; he was here two or three days." + +"And he could do nothing?" + +"Nothing, except what I have told you." + +The young man thrust his hand into his breast to still the cruel +beating of his heart. A sudden terror had taken possession of him,--a +horrible dread that he should never look upon his young wife's face +again. For some minutes there was a dead silence in the room, only +broken once or twice by the falling of some ashes on the hearth. +Captain Arundel sat with his face hidden behind his hand. Olivia still +stood as she had stood when her cousin entered the room, erect and +gloomy, by the old-fashioned chimney-piece. + +"There was something in that placard," the soldier said at last, in a +hoarse, altered voice,--"there was something about my wife having been +seen last by the water-side. Who saw her there?" + +"Mr. Weston, a surgeon of Kemberling,--Paul Marchmont's +brother-in-law." + +"Was she seen by no one else?" + +"Yes; she was seen at about the same time--a little sooner or later, we +don't know which--by one of Farmer Pollard's men." + +"And she has never been seen since?" + +"Never; that is to say, we can hear of no one who has seen her." + +"At what time in the day was she seen by this Mr. Weston?" + +"At dusk; between five and six o'clock." + +Edward Arundel put his hand suddenly to his throat, as if to check some +choking sensation that prevented his speaking. + +"Olivia," he said, "my wife was last seen by the river-side. Does any +one think that, by any unhappy accident, by any terrible fatality, she +lost her way after dark, and fell into the water? or that--O God, that +would be too horrible!--does any one suspect that she drowned herself?" + +"Many things have been said since her disappearance," Olivia Marchmont +answered. "Some people say one thing, some another." + +"And it has been said that she--that she was drowned?" + +"Yes; many people have said so. The river was dragged while Mr. +Paulette was here, and after he went away. The men were at work with +the drags for more than a week." + +"And they found nothing?" + +"Nothing." + +"Was there any other reason for supposing that--that my wife fell into +the river?" + +"Only one reason." + +"What was that?" + +"I will show you," Olivia Marchmont answered. + +She took a bunch of keys from her pocket, and went to an old-fashioned +bureau or cabinet upon the other side of the room. She unlocked the +upper part of this bureau, opened one of the drawers, and took from it +something which she brought to Edward Arundel. + +This something was a little shoe; a little shoe of soft bronzed +leather, stained and discoloured with damp and moss, and trodden down +upon one side, as if the wearer had walked a weary way in it, and had +been unaccustomed to so much walking. + +Edward Arundel remembered, in that brief, childishly-happy honeymoon at +the little village near Winchester, how often he had laughed at his +young wife's propensity for walking about damp meadows in such delicate +little slippers as were better adapted to the requirements of a +ballroom. He remembered the slender foot, so small that he could take +it in his hand; the feeble little foot that had grown tired in long +wanderings by the Hampshire trout-streams, but which had toiled on in +heroic self-abnegation so long as it was the will of the sultan to +pedestrianise. + +"Was this found by the river-side?" he asked, looking piteously at the +slipper which Mrs. Marchmont had put into his hand. + +"Yes; it was found amongst the rushes on the shore, a mile below the +spot at which Mr. Weston saw my step-daughter." + +Edward Arundel put the little shoe into his bosom. + +"I'll not believe it," he cried suddenly; "I'll not believe that my +darling is lost to me. She was too good, far too good, to think of +suicide; and Providence would never suffer my poor lonely child to be +led away to a dreary death upon that dismal river-shore. No, no; she +fled away from this place because she was too wretched here. She went +away to hide herself amongst those whom she could trust, until her +husband came to claim her. I will believe anything in the world except +that she is lost to me. And I will not believe that, I will never +believe that, until I look down at her corpse; until I lay my hand on +her cold breast, and feel that her true heart has ceased beating. As I +went out of this place four months ago to look for her, I will go again +now. My darling, my darling, my innocent pet, my childish bride; I will +go to the very end of the world in search of you." + +The widow ground her teeth as she listened to her kinsman's passionate +words. Why did he for ever goad her to blacker wickedness by this +parade of his love for Mary? Why did he force her to remember every +moment how much cause she had to hate this pale-faced girl? + +Captain Arundel rose, and walked a few paces, leaning on his stick as +he went. + +"You will sleep here to-night, of course?" Olivia Marchmont said. + +"Sleep here!" + +His tone expressed plainly enough that the place was abhorrent to him. + +"Yes; where else should you stay?" + +"I meant to have stopped at the nearest inn." + +"The nearest inn is at Kemberling." + +"That would suit me well enough," the young man answered indifferently; +"I must be in Kemberling early to-morrow, for I must see Paul +Marchmont. I am no nearer the comprehension of my wife's flight by +anything that you have told me. It is to Paul Marchmont that I must +look next. Heaven help him if he tries to keep the truth from me." + +"You will see Mr. Marchmont here as easily as at Kemberling," Olivia +answered; "he comes here every day." + +"What for?" + +"He has built a sort of painting-room down by the river-side, and he +paints there whenever there is light." + +"Indeed!" cried Edward Arundel; "he makes himself at home at Marchmont +Towers, then?" + +"He has a right to do so, I suppose," answered the widow indifferently. +"If Mary Marchmont is dead, this place and all belonging to it is his. +As it is, I am only here on sufferance." + +"He has taken possession, then?" + +"On the contrary, he shrinks from doing so." + +"And, by the Heaven above us, he does wisely," cried Edward Arundel. +"No man shall seize upon that which belongs to my darling. No foul plot +of this artist-traitor shall rob her of her own. God knows how little +value _I_ set upon her wealth; but I will stand between her and those +who try to rob her, until my last gasp. No, Olivia; I'll not stay here; +I'll accept no hospitality from Mr. Marchmont. I suspect him too much." + +He walked to the door; but before he reached it the widow went to one +of the windows, and pushed aside the blind. + +"Look at the rain," she said; "hark at it; don't you hear it, drip, +drip, drip upon the stone? I wouldn't turn a dog out of doors upon such +a night as this; and you--you are so ill--so weak. Edward Arundel, do +you hate me so much that you refuse to share the same shelter with me, +even for a night?" + +There is nothing so difficult of belief to a man, who is not a coxcomb, +as the simple fact that he is beloved by a woman whom he does not love, +and has never wooed by word or deed. But for this, surely Edward +Arundel must, in that sudden burst of tenderness, that one piteous +appeal, have discovered a clue to his cousin's secret. + +He discovered nothing; he guessed nothing. But he was touched by her +tone, even in spite of his utter ignorance of its meaning, and he +replied, in an altered manner, + +"Certainly, Olivia, if you really wish it, I will stay. Heaven knows I +have no desire that you and I should be ill friends. I want your help; +your pity, perhaps. I am quite willing to believe that any cruel things +you said to Mary arose from an outbreak of temper. I cannot think that +you could be base at heart. I will even attribute your disbelief of the +statement made by my poor girl as to our marriage to the narrow +prejudices learnt in a small country town. Let us be friends, Olivia." + +He held out his hand. His cousin laid her cold fingers in his open +palm, and he shuddered as if he had come in contact with a corpse. +There was nothing very cordial in the salutation. The two hands seemed +to drop asunder, lifeless and inert; as if to bear mute witness that +between these two people there was no possibility of sympathy or union. + +But Captain Arundel accepted his cousin's hospitality. Indeed he had +need to do so; for he found that his valet had relied upon his master's +stopping at the Towers, and had sent the carriage back to Swampington. +A tray with cold meat and wine was brought into the drawing-room for +the young soldier's refreshment. He drank a glass of Madeira, and made +some pretence of eating a few mouthfuls, out of courtesy to Olivia; but +he did this almost mechanically. He sat silent and gloomy, brooding +over the terrible shock that he had so newly received; brooding over +the hidden things that had happened in that dreary interval, during +which he had been as powerless to defend his wife from trouble as a +dead man. + +Again and again the cruel thought returned to him, each time with a +fresh agony,--that if he had written to his mother, if he had told her +the story of his marriage, the things which had happened could never +have come to pass. Mary would have been sheltered and protected by a +good and loving woman. This thought, this horrible self-reproach, was +the bitterest thing the young man had to bear. + +"It is too great a punishment," he thought; "I am too cruelly punished +for having forgotten everything in my happiness with my darling." + +The widow sat in her low easy-chair near the fire, with her eyes fixed +upon the burning coals; the grate had been replenished, and the light +of the red blaze shone full upon Olivia Marchmont's haggard face. +Edward Arundel, aroused for a few moments out of his gloomy +abstraction, was surprised at the change which an interval of a few +months had made in his cousin. The gloomy shadow which he had often +seen on her face had become a fixed expression; every line had +deepened, as if by the wear and tear of ten years, rather than by the +progress of a few months. Olivia Marchmont had grown old before her +time. Nor was this the only change. There was a look, undefined and +undefinable, in the large luminous grey eyes, unnaturally luminous now, +which filled Edward Arundel with a vague sense of terror; a terror +which he would not--which he dared not--attempt to analyse. He +remembered Mary's unreasoning fear of her stepmother, and he now +scarcely wondered at that fear. There was something almost weird and +unearthly in the aspect of the woman sitting opposite to him by the +broad hearth: no vestige of colour in her gloomy face, a strange light +burning in her eyes, and her black draperies falling round her in +straight, lustreless folds. + +"I fear you have been ill, Olivia," the young man said, presently. + +Another sentiment had arisen in his breast side by side with that vague +terror,--a fancy that perhaps there was some reason why his cousin +should be pitied. + +"Yes," she answered indifferently; as if no subject of which Captain +Arundel could have spoken would have been of less concern to +her,--"yes, I have been very ill." + +"I am sorry to hear it." + +Olivia looked up at him and smiled. Her smile was the strangest he had +ever seen upon a woman's face. + +"I am very sorry to hear it. What has been the matter with you?" + +"Slow fever, Mr. Weston said." + +"Mr. Weston?" + +"Yes; Mr. Marchmont's brother-in-law. He has succeeded to Mr. +Dawnfield's practice at Kemberling. He attended me, and he attended my +step-daughter." + +"My wife was ill, then?" + +"Yes; she had brain-fever: she recovered from that, but she did not +recover strength. Her low spirits alarmed me, and I considered it only +right--Mr. Marchmont suggested also--that a medical man should be +consulted." + +"And what did this man, this Mr. Weston, say?" + +"Very little; there was nothing the matter with Mary, he said. He gave +her a little medicine, but only in the desire of strengthening her +nervous system. He could give her no medicine that would have any very +good effect upon her spirits, while she chose to keep herself +obstinately apart from every one." + +The young man's head sank upon his breast. The image of his desolate +young wife arose before him; the image of a pale, sorrowful girl, +holding herself apart from her persecutors, abandoned, lonely, +despairing. Why had she remained at Marchmont Towers? Why had she ever +consented to go there, when she had again and again expressed such +terror of her stepmother? Why had she not rather followed her husband +down to Devonshire, and thrown herself upon his relatives for +protection? Was it like this girl to remain quietly here in +Lincolnshire, when the man she loved with such innocent devotion was +lying between life and death in the west? + +"She is such a child," he thought,--"such a child in her ignorance of +the world. I must not reason about her as I would about another woman." + +And then a sudden flush of passionate emotion rose to his face, as a +new thought flashed into his mind. What if this helpless girl had been +detained by force at Marchmont Towers? + +"Olivia," he cried, "whatever baseness this man, Paul Marchmont, may be +capable of, you at least must be superior to any deliberate sin. I have +all my life believed in you, and respected you, as a good woman. Tell +me the truth, then, for pity's sake. Nothing that you can tell me will +fill up the dead blank that the horrible interval since my accident has +made in my life. But you can give me some help. A few words from you +may clear away much of this darkness. How did you find my wife? How did +you induce her to come back to this place? I know that she had an +unreasonable dread of returning here." + +"I found her through the agency of Mr. Marchmont," Olivia answered, +quietly. "I had some difficulty in inducing her to return here; but +after hearing of your accident--" + +"How was the news of that broken to her?" + +"Unfortunately she saw a paper that had happened to be left in her +way." + +"By whom?" + +"By Mr. Marchmont." + +"Where was this?" + +"In Hampshire." + +"Indeed! Then Paul Marchmont went with you to Hampshire?" + +"He did. He was of great service to me in this crisis. After seeing the +paper, my stepdaughter was seized with brain-fever. She was unconscious +when we brought her back to the Towers. She was nursed by my old +servant Barbara, and had the highest medical care. I do not think that +anything more could have been done for her." + +"No," answered Edward Arundel, bitterly; "unless you could have loved +her." + +"We cannot force our affections," the widow said, in a hard voice. + +Another voice in her breast seemed to whisper, "Why do you reproach me +for not having loved this girl? If you had loved _me_, the whole world +would have been different." + +"Olivia Marchmont," said Captain Arundel, "by your own avowal there has +never been any affection for this orphan girl in your heart. It is not +my business to dwell upon the fact, as something almost unnatural under +the peculiar circumstances through which that helpless child was cast +upon your protection. It is needless to try to understand why you have +hardened your heart against my poor wife. Enough that it is so. But I +may still believe that, whatever your feelings may be towards your dead +husband's daughter, you would not be guilty of any deliberate act of +treachery against her. I can afford to believe this of you; but I +cannot believe it of Paul Marchmont. That man is my wife's natural +enemy. If he has been here during my illness, he has been here to plot +against her. When he came here, he came to attempt her destruction. She +stands between him and this estate. Long ago, when I was a careless +schoolboy, my poor friend, John Marchmont, told me that, if ever the +day came upon which Mary's interests should be opposed to the interests +of her cousin, that man would be a dire and bitter enemy; so much the +more terrible because in all appearance her friend. The day came; and +I, to whom the orphan girl had been left as a sacred legacy, was not by +to defend her. But I have risen from a bed that many have thought a bed +of death; and I come to this place with one indomitable resolution +paramount in my breast,--the determination to find my wife, and to +bring condign punishment upon the man who has done her wrong." + +Captain Arundel spoke in a low voice; but his passion was all the more +terrible because of the suppression of those common outward evidences +by which anger ordinarily betrays itself. He relapsed into thoughtful +silence. + +Olivia made no answer to anything that he had said. She sat looking at +him steadily, with an admiring awe in her face. How splendid he +was--this young hero--even in his sickness and feebleness! How +splendid, by reason of the grand courage, the chivalrous devotion, that +shone out of his blue eyes! + +The clock struck eleven while the cousins sat opposite to each +other,--only divided, physically, by the width of the tapestried +hearth-rug; but, oh, how many weary miles asunder in spirit!--and +Edward Arundel rose, startled from his sorrowful reverie. + +"If I were a strong man," he said, "I would see Paul Marchmont +to-night. But I must wait till to-morrow morning. At what time does he +come to his painting-room?"' + +"At eight o'clock, when the mornings are bright; but later when the +weather is dull." + +"At eight o'clock! I pray Heaven the sun may shine early to-morrow! I +pray Heaven I may not have to wait long before I find myself face to +face with that man! Good-night, Olivia." + +He took a candle from a table near the door, and lit it almost +mechanically. He found Mr. Morrison waiting for him, very sleepy and +despondent, in a large bedchamber in which Captain Arundel had never +slept before,--a dreary apartment, decked out with the faded splendours +of the past; a chamber in which the restless sleeper might expect to +see a phantom lady in a ghostly sacque, cowering over the embers, and +spreading her transparent hands above the red light. + +"It isn't particular comfortable, after Dangerfield," the valet +muttered in a melancholy voice; "and all I 'ope, Mr. Edward, is, that +the sheets are not damp. I've been a stirrin' of the fire and puttin' +on fresh coals for the last hour. There's a bed for me in the dressin' +room, within call." + +Captain Arundel scarcely heard what his servant said to him. He was +standing at the door of the spacious chamber, looking out into a long +low-roofed corridor, in which he had just encountered Barbara, Mrs. +Marchmont's confidential attendant,--the wooden-faced, +inscrutable-looking woman, who, according to Olivia, had watched and +ministered to his wife. + +"Was that the tenderest face that looked down upon my darling as she +lay on her sick-bed?" he thought. "I had almost as soon have had a +ghoul to watch by my poor dear's pillow." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE PAINTING-ROOM BY THE RIVER. + + +Edward Arundel lay awake through the best part of that November night, +listening to the ceaseless dripping of the rain upon the terrace, and +thinking of Paul Marchmont. It was of this man that he must demand an +account of his wife. Nothing that Olivia had told him had in any way +lessened this determination. The little slipper found by the water's +edge; the placard flapping on the moss-grown pillar at the entrance to +the park; the story of a possible suicide, or a more probable +accident;--all these things were as nothing beside the young man's +suspicion of Paul Marchmont. He had pooh-poohed John's dread of his +kinsman as weak and unreasonable; and now, with the same unreason, he +was ready to condemn this man, whom he had never seen, as a traitor and +a plotter against his young wife. + +He lay tossing from side to side all that night, weak and feverish, +with great drops of cold perspiration rolling down his pale face, +sometimes falling into a fitful sleep, in whose distorted dreams Paul +Marchmont was for ever present, now one man, now another. There was no +sense of fitness in these dreams; for sometimes Edward Arundel and the +artist were wrestling together with newly-sharpened daggers in their +eager hands, each thirsting for the other's blood; and in the next +moment they were friends, and had been friendly--as it seemed--for +years. + +The young man woke from one of these last dreams, with words of +good-fellowship upon his lips, to find the morning light gleaming +through the narrow openings in the damask window-curtains, and Mr. +Morrison laying out his master's dressing apparatus upon the carved oak +toilette-table. + +Captain Arundel dressed himself as fast as he could, with the +assistance of the valet, and then made his way down the broad +staircase, with the help of his cane, upon which he had need to lean +pretty heavily, for he was as weak as a child. + +"You had better give me the brandy-flask, Morrison," he said. "I am +going out before breakfast. You may as well come with me, by-the-by; +for I doubt if I could walk as far as I want to go, without the help of +your arm." + +In the hall Captain Arundel found one of the servants. The western door +was open, and the man was standing on the threshold looking out at the +morning. The rain had ceased; but the day did not yet promise to be +very bright, for the sun gleamed like a ball of burnished copper +through a pale November mist. + +"Do you know if Mr. Paul Marchmont has gone down to the boat-house?" +Edward asked. + +"Yes, sir," the man answered; "I met him just now in the quadrangle. +He'd been having a cup of coffee with my mistress." + +Edward started. They were friends, then, Paul Marchmont and +Olivia!--friends, but surely not allies! Whatever villany this man +might be capable of committing, Olivia must at least be guiltless of +any deliberate treachery? + +Captain Arundel took his servant's arm and walked out into the +quadrangle, and from the quadrangle to the low-lying woody swamp, where +the stunted trees looked grim and weird-like in their leafless +ugliness. Weak as the young man was, he walked rapidly across the +sloppy ground, which had been almost flooded by the continual rains. He +was borne up by his fierce desire to be face to face with Paul +Marchmont. The savage energy of his mind was stronger than any physical +debility. He dismissed Mr. Morrison as soon as he was within sight of +the boat-house, and went on alone, leaning on his stick, and pausing +now and then to draw breath, angry with himself for his weakness. + +The boat-house, and the pavilion above it, had been patched up by some +country workmen. A handful of plaster here and there, a little new +brickwork, and a mended window-frame bore witness of this. The +ponderous old-fashioned wooden shutters had been repaired, and a good +deal of the work which had been begun in John Marchmont's lifetime had +now, in a certain rough manner, been completed. The place, which had +hitherto appeared likely to fall into utter decay, had been rendered +weather-tight and habitable; the black smoke creeping slowly upward +from the ivy-covered chimney, gave evidence of occupation. Beyond this, +a large wooden shed, with a wide window fronting the north, had been +erected close against the boat-house. This rough shed Edward Arundel at +once understood to be the painting-room which the artist had built for +himself. + +He paused a moment outside the door of this shed. A man's voice--a +tenor voice, rather thin and metallic in quality--was singing a scrap +of Rossini upon the other side of the frail woodwork. + +Edward Arundel knocked with the handle of his stick upon the door. The +voice left off singing, to say "Come in." + +The soldier opened the door, crossed the threshold, and stood face to +face with Paul Marchmont in the bare wooden shed. The painter had +dressed himself for his work. His coat and waistcoat lay upon a chair +near the door. He had put on a canvas jacket, and had drawn a loose +pair of linen trousers over those which belonged to his usual costume. +So far as this paint-besmeared coat and trousers went, nothing could +have been more slovenly than Paul Marchmont's appearance; but some +tincture of foppery exhibited itself in the black velvet smoking-cap, +which contrasted with and set off the silvery whiteness of his hair, as +well as in the delicate curve of his amber moustache. A moustache was +not a very common adornment in the year 1848. It was rather an +eccentricity affected by artists, and permitted as the wild caprice of +irresponsible beings, not amenable to the laws that govern rational and +respectable people. + +Edward Arundel sharply scrutinised the face and figure of the artist. +He cast a rapid glance round the bare whitewashed walls of the shed, +trying to read even in those bare walls some chance clue to the +painter's character. But there was not much to be gleaned from the +details of that almost empty chamber. A dismal, black-looking iron +stove, with a crooked chimney, stood in one corner. A great easel +occupied the centre of the room. A sheet of tin, nailed upon a wooden +shutter, swung backwards and forwards against the northern window, +blown to and fro by the damp wind that crept in through the crevices in +the framework of the roughly-fashioned casement. A heap of canvases +were piled against the walls, and here and there a half-finished +picture--a lurid Turneresque landscape; a black stormy sky; or a rocky +mountain-pass, dyed blood-red by the setting sun--was propped up +against the whitewashed background. Scattered scraps of water-colour, +crayon, old engravings, sketches torn and tumbled, bits of rockwork and +foliage, lay littered about the floor; and on a paint-stained +deal-table of the roughest and plainest fashion were gathered the +colour-tubes and palettes, the brushes and sponges and dirty cloths, +the greasy and sticky tin-cans, which form the paraphernalia of an +artist. Opposite the northern window was the moss-grown stone-staircase +leading up to the pavilion over the boat-house. Mr. Marchmont had built +his painting-room against the side of the pavilion, in such a manner as +to shut in the staircase and doorway which formed the only entrance to +it. His excuse for the awkwardness of this piece of architecture was +the impossibility of otherwise getting the all-desirable northern light +for the illumination of his rough studio. + +This was the chamber in which Edward Arundel found the man from whom he +came to demand an account of his wife's disappearance. The artist was +evidently quite prepared to receive his visitor. He made no pretence of +being taken off his guard, as a meaner pretender might have done. One +of Paul Marchmont's theories was, that as it is only a fool who would +use brass where he could as easily employ gold, so it is only a fool +who tells a lie when he can conveniently tell the truth. + +"Captain Arundel, I believe?" he said, pushing a chair forward for his +visitor. "I am sorry to say I recognise you by your appearance of ill +health. Mrs. Marchmont told me you wanted to see me. Does my meerschaum +annoy you? I'll put it out if it does. No? Then, if you'll allow me, +I'll go on smoking. Some people say tobacco-smoke gives a tone to one's +pictures. If so, mine ought to be Rembrandts in depth of colour." + +Edward Arundel dropped into the chair that had been offered to him. If +he could by any possibility have rejected even this amount of +hospitality from Paul Marchmont, he would have done so; but he was a +great deal too weak to stand, and he knew that his interview with the +artist must be a long one. + +"Mr. Marchmont," he said, "if my cousin Olivia told you that you might +expect to see me here to-day, she most likely told you a great deal +more. Did she tell you that I looked to you to account to me for the +disappearance of my wife?" + +Paul Marchmont shrugged his shoulders, as who should say, "This young +man is an invalid. I must not suffer myself to be aggravated by his +absurdity." Then taking his meerschaum from his lips, he set it down, +and seated himself at a few paces from Edward Arundel on the lowest of +the moss-grown steps leading up to the pavilion. + +"My dear Captain Arundel," he said, very gravely, "your cousin did +repeat to me a great deal of last night's conversation. She told me +that you had spoken of me with a degree of violence, natural enough +perhaps to a hot-tempered young soldier, but in no manner justified by +our relations. When you call upon me to account for the disappearance +of Mary Marchmont, you act about as rationally as if you declared me +answerable for the pulmonary complaint that carried away her father. +If, on the other hand, you call upon me to assist you in the endeavour +to fathom the mystery of her disappearance, you will find me ready and +willing to aid you to the very uttermost. It is to my interest as much +as to yours that this mystery should be cleared up." + +"And in the meantime you take possession of this estate?" + +"No, Captain Arundel. The law would allow me to do so; but I decline to +touch one farthing of the revenue which this estate yields, or to +commit one act of ownership, until the mystery of Mary Marchmont's +disappearance, or of her death, is cleared up." + +"The mystery of her death?" said Edward Arundel; "you believe, then, +that she is dead?" + +"I anticipate nothing; I think nothing," answered the artist; "I only +wait. The mysteries of life are so many and so incomprehensible,--the +stories, which are every day to be read by any man who takes the +trouble to look through a newspaper, are so strange, and savour so much +of the improbabilities of a novel-writer's first wild fiction,--that I +am ready to believe everything and anything. Mary Marchmont struck me, +from the first moment in which I saw her, as sadly deficient in mental +power. Nothing she could do would astonish me. She may be hiding +herself away from us, prompted only by some eccentric fancy of her own. +She may have fallen into the power of designing people. She may have +purposely placed her slipper by the water-side, in order to give the +idea of an accident or a suicide; or she may have dropped it there by +chance, and walked barefoot to the nearest railway-station. She acted +unreasonably before when she ran away from Marchmont Towers; she may +have acted unreasonably again." + +"You do not think, then, that she is dead?" + +"I hesitate to form any opinion; I positively decline to express one." + +Edward Arundel gnawed savagely at the ends of his moustache. This man's +cool imperturbability, which had none of the studied smoothness of +hypocrisy, but which seemed rather the plain candour of a thorough man +of the world, who had no wish to pretend to any sentiment he did not +feel, baffled and infuriated the passionate young soldier. Was it +possible that this man, who met him with such cool self-assertion, who +in no manner avoided any discussion of Mary Marchmont's +disappearance,--was it possible that he could have had any treacherous +and guilty part in that calamity? Olivia's manner looked like guilt; +but Paul Marchmont's seemed the personification of innocence. Not angry +innocence, indignant that its purity should have been suspected; but +the matter-of-fact, commonplace innocence of a man of the world, who is +a great deal too clever to play any hazardous and villanous game. + +"You can perhaps answer me this question, Mr. Marchmont," said Edward +Arundel. "Why was my wife doubted when she told the story of her +marriage?" + +The artist smiled, and rising from his seat upon the stone step, took a +pocket-book from one of the pockets of the coat that he had been +wearing. + +"I _can_ answer that question," he said, selecting a paper from amongst +others in the pocket-book. "This will answer it." + +He handed Edward Arundel the paper, which was a letter folded +lengthways, and indorsed, "From Mrs. Arundel, August 31st." Within this +letter was another paper, indorsed, "Copy of letter to Mrs. Arundel, +August 28th." + +"You had better read the copy first," Mr. Marchmont said, as Edward +looked doubtfully at the inner paper. + +The copy was very brief, and ran thus: + +"Marchmont Towers, August 28, 1848. + +"MADAM,--I have been given to understand that your son, Captain +Arundel, within a fortnight of his sad accident, contracted a secret +marriage with a young lady, whose name I, for several reasons, prefer +to withhold. If you can oblige me by informing me whether there is any +foundation for this statement, you will confer a very great favour upon + +"Your obedient servant, + +"PAUL MARCHMONT." + +The answer to this letter, in the hand of Edward Arundel's mother, was +equally brief: + +"Dangerfield Park, August 31, 1848. + +"SIR,--In reply to your inquiry, I beg to state that there can be no +foundation whatever for the report to which you allude. My son is too +honourable to contract a secret marriage; and although his present +unhappy state renders it impossible for me to receive the assurance +from his own lips, my confidence in his high principles justifies me in +contradicting any such report as that which forms the subject of your +letter. + +"I am, sir, + +"Yours obediently, + +"LETITIA ARUNDEL." + +The soldier stood, mute and confounded, with his mother's letter in his +hand. It seemed as if every creature had been against the helpless girl +whom he had made his wife. Every hand had been lifted to drive her from +the house that was her own; to drive her out upon the world, of which +she was ignorant, a wanderer and an outcast; perhaps to drive her to a +cruel death. + +"You can scarcely wonder if the receipt of that letter confirmed me in +my previous belief that Mary Marchmont's story of a marriage arose out +of the weakness of a brain, never too strong, and at that time very +much enfeebled by the effect of a fever." + +Edward Arundel was silent. He crushed his mother's letter in his hand. +Even his mother--even his mother--that tender and compassionate woman, +whose protection he had so freely promised, ten years before, in the +lobby of Drury Lane, to John Marchmont's motherless child,--even she, +by some hideous fatality, had helped to bring grief and shame upon the +lonely girl. All this story of his young wife's disappearance seemed +enveloped in a wretched obscurity, through whose thick darkness he +could not penetrate. He felt himself encompassed by a web of mystery, +athwart which it was impossible to cut his way to the truth. He asked +question after question, and received answers which seemed freely +given; but the story remained as dark as ever. What did it all mean? +What was the clue to the mystery? Was this man, Paul Marchmont,--busy +amongst his unfinished pictures, and bearing in his every action, in +his every word, the stamp of an easy-going, free-spoken soldier of +fortune,--likely to have been guilty of any dark and subtle villany +against the missing girl? He had disbelieved in the marriage; but he +had had some reason for his doubt of a fact that could not very well be +welcome to him. + +The young man rose from his chair, and stood irresolute, brooding over +these things. + +"Come, Captain Arundel," cried Paul Marchmont, heartily, "believe me, +though I have not much superfluous sentimentality left in my +composition after a pretty long encounter with the world, still I can +truly sympathise with your regret for this poor silly child. I hope, +for your sake, that she still lives, and is foolishly hiding herself +from us all. Perhaps, now you are able to act in the business, there +may be a better chance of finding her. I am old enough to be your +father, and am ready to give you the help of any knowledge of the world +which I may have gathered in the experience of a lifetime. Will you +accept my help?" + +Edward Arundel paused for a moment, with his head still bent, and his +eyes fixed upon the ground. Then suddenly lifting his head, he looked +full in the artist's face as he answered him. + +"No!" he cried. "Your offer may be made in all good faith, and if so, I +thank you for it; but no one loves this missing girl as I love her; no +one has so good a right as I have to protect and shelter her. I will +look for my wife, alone, unaided; except by such help as I pray that +God may give me." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +IN THE DARK. + + +Edward Arundel walked slowly back to the Towers, shaken in body, +perplexed in mind, baffled, disappointed, and most miserable; the young +husband, whose married life had been shut within the compass of a brief +honeymoon, went back to that dark and gloomy mansion within whose +encircling walls Mary had pined and despaired. + +"Why did she stop here?" he thought; "why didn't she come to me? I +thought her first impulse would have brought her to me. I thought my +poor childish love would have set out on foot to seek her husband, if +need were." + +He groped his way feebly and wearily amidst the leafless wood, and +through the rotting vegetation decaying in oozy slime beneath the black +shelter of the naked trees. He groped his way towards the dismal +eastern front of the great stone dwelling-house, his face always turned +towards the blank windows, that stared down at him from the discoloured +walls. + +"Oh, if they could speak!" he exclaimed, almost beside himself in his +perplexity and desperation; "if they could speak! If those cruel walls +could find a voice, and tell me what my darling suffered within their +shadow! If they could tell me why she despaired, and ran away to hide +herself from her husband and protector! _If_ they could speak!" + +He ground his teeth in a passion of sorrowful rage. + +"I should gain as much by questioning yonder stone wall as by talking +to my cousin, Olivia Marchmont," he thought, presently. "Why is that +woman so venomous a creature in her hatred of my innocent wife? Why is +it that, whether I threaten, or whether I appeal, I can gain nothing +from her--nothing? She baffles me as completely by her measured +answers, which seem to reply to my questions, and which yet tell me +nothing, as if she were a brazen image set up by the dark ignorance of +a heathen people, and dumb in the absence of an impostor-priest. She +baffles me, question her how I will. And Paul Marchmont, again,--what +have I learned from him? Am I a fool, that people can prevaricate and +lie to me like this? Has my brain no sense, and my arm no strength, +that I cannot wring the truth from the false throats of these +wretches?" + +The young man gnashed his teeth again in the violence of his rage. + +Yes, it was like a dream; it was like nothing but a dream. In dreams he +had often felt this terrible sense of impotence wrestling with a mad +desire to achieve something or other. But never before in his waking +hours had the young soldier experienced such a sensation. + +He stopped, irresolute, almost bewildered, looking back at the +boat-house, a black spot far away down by the sedgy brink of the slow +river, and then again turning his face towards the monotonous lines of +windows in the eastern frontage of Marchmont Towers. + +"I let that man play with me to-day," he thought; "but our reckoning is +to come. We have not done with each other yet." + +He walked on towards the low archway leading into the quadrangle. + +The room which had been John Marchmont's study, and which his widow had +been wont to occupy since his death, looked into this quadrangle. +Edward Arundel saw his cousin's dark head bending over a book, or a +desk perhaps, behind the window. + +"Let her beware of me, if she has done any wrong to my wife!" he +thought. "To which of these people am I to look for an account of my +poor lost girl? To which of these two am I to look! Heaven guide me to +find the guilty one; and Heaven have mercy upon that wretched creature +when the hour of reckoning comes; for I will have none." + +Olivia Marchmont, looking through the window, saw her kinsman's face +while this thought was in his mind. The expression which she saw there +was so terrible, so merciless, so sublime in its grand and vengeful +beauty, that her own face blanched even to a paler hue than that which +had lately become habitual to it. + +"Am I afraid of him?" she thought, as she pressed her forehead against +the cold glass, and by a physical effort restrained the convulsive +trembling that had suddenly shaken her frame. "Am I afraid of him? No; +what injury can he inflict upon me worse than that which he has done me +from the very first? If he could drag me to a scaffold, and deliver me +with his own hands into the grasp of the hangman, he would do me no +deeper wrong than he has done me from the hour of my earliest +remembrance of him. He could inflict no new pangs, no sharper tortures, +than I have been accustomed to suffer at his hands. He does not love +me. He has never loved me. He never will love me. _That_ is my wrong; +and it is for that I take my revenge!" + +She lifted her head, which had rested in a sullen attitude against the +glass, and looked at the soldier's figure slowly advancing towards the +western side of the house. + +Then, with a smile,--the same horrible smile which Edward Arundel had +seen light up her face on the previous night,--she muttered between her +set teeth:-- + +"Shall I be sorry because this vengeance has fallen across my pathway? +Shall I repent, and try to undo what I have done? Shall I thrust myself +between others and Mr. Edward Arundel? Shall _I_ make myself the ally +and champion of this gallant soldier, who seldom speaks to me except to +insult and upbraid me? Shall _I_ take justice into my hands, and +interfere for my kinsman's benefit? No; he has chosen to threaten me; +he has chosen to believe vile things of me. From the first his +indifference has been next kin to insolence. Let him take care of +himself." + +Edward Arundel took no heed of the grey eyes that watched him with such +a vengeful light in their fixed gaze. He was still thinking of his +missing wife, still feeling, to a degree that was intolerably painful, +that miserable dream-like sense of helplessness and prostration. + +"What am I to do?" he thought. "Shall I be for ever going backwards and +forwards between my Cousin Olivia and Paul Marchmont; for ever +questioning them, first one and then the other, and never getting any +nearer to the truth?" + +He asked himself this question, because the extreme anguish, the +intense anxiety, which he had endured, seemed to have magnified the +smallest events, and to have multiplied a hundred-fold the lapse of +time. It seemed as if he had already spent half a lifetime in his +search after John Marchmont's lost daughter. + +"O my friend, my friend!" he thought, as some faint link of +association, some memory thrust upon him by the aspect of the place in +which he was, brought back the simple-minded tutor who had taught him +mathematics eighteen years before,--"my poor friend, if this girl had +not been my love and my wife, surely the memory of your trust in me +would be enough to make me a desperate and merciless avenger of her +wrongs." + +He went into the hall, and from the hall to the tenantless western +drawing-room,--a dreary chamber, with its grim and faded splendour, its +stiff, old-fashioned furniture; a chamber which, unadorned by the +presence of youth and innocence, had the aspect of belonging to a day +that was gone, and people that were dead. So might have looked one of +those sealed-up chambers in the buried cities of Italy, when the doors +were opened, and eager living eyes first looked in upon the habitations +of the dead. + +Edward Arundel walked up and down the empty drawing-room. There were +the ivory chessmen that he had brought from India, under a glass shade +on an inlaid table in a window. How often he and Mary had played +together in that very window; and how she had always lost her pawns, +and left bishops and knights undefended, while trying to execute +impossible manoeuvres with her queen! The young man paced slowly +backwards and forwards across the old-fashioned bordered carpet, trying +to think what he should do. He must form some plan of action in his own +mind, he thought. There was foul work somewhere, he most implicitly +believed; and it was for him to discover the motive of the treachery, +and the person of the traitor. + +Paul Marchmont! Paul Marchmont! + +His mind always travelled back to this point. Paul Marchmont was Mary's +natural enemy. Paul Marchmont was therefore surely the man to be +suspected, the man to be found out and defeated. + +And yet, if there was any truth in appearances, it was Olivia who was +most inimical to the missing girl; it was Olivia whom Mary had feared; +it was Olivia who had driven John Marchmont's orphan-child from her +home once, and who might, by the same power to tyrannise and torture a +weak and yielding nature, have so banished her again. + +Or these two, Paul and Olivia, might both hate the defenceless girl, +and might have between them plotted a wrong against her. + +"Who will tell me the truth about my lost darling?" cried Edward +Arundel. "Who will help me to look for my missing love?" + +His lost darling; his missing love. It was thus that the young man +spoke of his wife. That dark thought which had been suggested to him by +the words of Olivia, by the mute evidence of the little bronze slipper +picked up near the river-brink, had never taken root, or held even a +temporary place in his breast. He would not--nay, more, he could +not--think that his wife was dead. In all his confused and miserable +dreams that dreary November night, no dream had ever shown him _that_. +No image of death had mingled itself with the distorted shadows that +had tormented his sleep. No still white face had looked up at him +through a veil of murky waters. No moaning sob of a rushing stream had +mixed its dismal sound with the many voices of his slumbers. No; he +feared all manner of unknown sorrows; he looked vaguely forward to a +sea of difficulty, to be waded across in blindness and bewilderment +before he could clasp his rescued wife in his arms; but he never +thought that she was dead. + +Presently the idea came to him that it was outside Marchmont +Towers,--away, beyond the walls of this grim, enchanted castle, where +evil spirits seemed to hold possession,--that he should seek for the +clue to his wife's hiding-place. + +"There is Hester, that girl who was fond of Mary," he thought; "she may +be able to tell me something, perhaps. I will go to her." + +He went out into the hall to look for his servant, the faithful +Morrison, who had been eating a very substantial breakfast with the +domestics of the Towers--"the sauce to meat" being a prolonged +discussion of the facts connected with Mary Marchmont's disappearance +and her relations with Edward Arundel--and who came, radiant and greasy +from the enjoyment of hot buttered cakes and Lincolnshire bacon, at the +sound of his master's voice. + +"I want you to get me some vehicle, and a lad who will drive me a few +miles, Morrison," the young soldier said; "or you can drive me +yourself, perhaps?" + +"Certainly, Master Edward; I have driven your pa often, when we was +travellin' together. I'll go and see if there's a phee-aton or a shay +that will suit you, sir; something that goes easy on its springs." + +"Get anything," muttered Captain Arundel, "so long as you can get it +without loss of time." + +All fuss and anxiety upon the subject of his health worried the young +man. He felt his head dizzied with weakness and excitement; his +arm--that muscular right arm, which had done him good service two years +before in an encounter with a tigress--was weaker than the jewel-bound +wrist of a woman. But he chafed against anything like consideration of +his weakness; he rebelled against anything that seemed likely to hinder +him in that one object upon which all the powers of his mind were bent. + +Mr. Morrison went away with some show of briskness, but dropped into a +very leisurely pace as soon as he was fairly out of his master's sight. +He went straight to the stables, where he had a pleasant gossip with +the grooms and hangers-on, and amused himself further by inspecting +every bit of horseflesh in the Marchmont stables, prior to selecting a +quiet grey cob which he felt himself capable of driving, and an +old-fashioned gig with a yellow body and black and yellow wheels, +bearing a strong resemblance to a monstrous wooden wasp. + +While the faithful attendant to whom Mrs. Arundel had delegated the +care of her son was thus employed, the soldier stood in the stone hall, +looking out at the dreary wintry landscape, and pining to hurry away +across the dismal swamps to the village in which he hoped to hear +tidings of her he sought. He was lounging in a deep oaken window-seat, +looking hopelessly at that barren prospect, that monotonous expanse of +flat morass and leaden sky, when he heard a footstep behind him; and +turning round saw Olivia's confidential servant, Barbara Simmons, the +woman who had watched by his wife's sick-bed,--the woman whom he had +compared to a ghoule. + +She was walking slowly across the hall towards Olivia's room, whither a +bell had just summoned her. Mrs. Marchmont had lately grown fretful and +capricious, and did not care to be waited upon by any one except this +woman, who had known her from her childhood, and was no stranger to her +darkest moods. + +Edward Arundel had determined to appeal to every living creature who +was likely to know anything of his wife's disappearance, and he +snatched the first opportunity of questioning this woman. + +"Stop, Mrs. Simmons," he said, moving away from the window; "I want to +speak to you; I want to talk to you about my wife." + +The woman turned to him with a blank face, whose expressionless stare +might mean either genuine surprise or an obstinate determination not to +understand anything that might be said to her. + +"Your wife, Captain Arundel!" she said, in cold measured tones, but +with an accent of astonishment. + +"Yes; my wife. Mary Marchmont, my lawfully-wedded wife. Look here, +woman," cried Edward Arundel; "if you cannot accept the word of a +soldier, and an honourable man, you can perhaps believe the evidence of +your eyes." + +He took a morocco memorandum-book from his breast-pocket. It was full +of letters, cards, bank-notes, and miscellaneous scraps of paper +carelessly stuffed into it, and amongst them Captain Arundel found the +certificate of his marriage, which he had put away at random upon his +wedding morning, and which had lain unheeded in his pocket-book ever +since. + +"Look here," he cried, spreading the document before the +waiting-woman's eyes, and pointing, with a shaking hand, to the lines. +"You believe that, I suppose?" + +"O yes, sir," Barbara Simmons answered, after deliberately reading the +certificate. "I have no reason to disbelieve it; no wish to disbelieve +it." + +"No; I suppose not," muttered Edward Arundel, "unless you too are +leagued with Paul Marchmont." + +The woman did not flinch at this hinted accusation, but answered the +young man in that slow and emotionless manner which no change of +circumstance seemed to have power to alter. + +"I am leagued with no one, sir," she said, coldly. "I serve no one +except my mistress, Miss Olivia--I mean Mrs. Marchmont." + +The study-bell rang for the second time while she was speaking. + +"I must go to my mistress now, sir," she said. "You heard her ringing +for me." + +"Go, then, and let me see you as you come back. I tell you I must and +will speak to you. Everybody in this house tries to avoid me. It seems +as if I was not to get a straight answer from any one of you. But I +_will_ know all that is to be known about my lost wife. Do you hear, +woman? I will know!" + +"I will come back to you directly, sir," Barbara Simmons answered +quietly. + +The leaden calmness of this woman's manner irritated Edward Arundel +beyond all power of expression. Before his cousin Olivia's gloomy +coldness he had been flung back upon himself as before an iceberg; but +every now and then some sudden glow of fiery emotion had shot up amid +that frigid mass, lurid and blazing, and the iceberg had been +transformed into an angry and passionate woman, who might, in that +moment of fierce emotion, betray the dark secrets of her soul. But +_this_ woman's manner presented a passive barrier, athwart which the +young soldier was as powerless to penetrate as he would have been to +walk through a block of solid stone. + +Olivia was like some black and stony castle, whose barred windows bade +defiance to the besieger, but behind whose narrow casements transient +flashes of light gleamed fitfully upon the watchers without, hinting at +the mysteries that were hidden within the citadel. + +Barbara Simmons resembled a blank stone wall, grimly confronting the +eager traveller, and giving no indication whatever of the unknown +country on the other side. + +She came back almost immediately, after being only a few moments in +Olivia's room,--certainly not long enough to consult with her mistress +as to what she was to say or to leave unsaid,--and presented herself +before Captain Arundel. + +"If you have any questions to ask, sir, about Miss Marchmont--about +your wife--I shall be happy to answer them," she said. + +"I have a hundred questions to ask," exclaimed the young man; "but +first answer me this one plainly and truthfully--Where do you think my +wife has gone? What do you think has become of her?" + +The woman was silent for a few moments, and then answered very +gravely,-- + +"I would rather not say what I think, sir." + +"Why not?" + +"Because I might say that which would make you unhappy." + +"Can anything be more miserable to me than the prevarication which I +meet with on every side?" cried Edward Arundel. "If you or any one else +will be straightforward with me--remembering that I come to this place +like a man who has risen from the grave, depending wholly on the word +of others for the knowledge of that which is more vital to me than +anything upon this earth--that person will be the best friend I have +found since I rose from my sick-bed to come hither. You can have had no +motive--if you are not in Paul Marchmont's pay--for being cruel to my +poor girl. Tell me the truth, then; speak, and speak fearlessly." + +"I have no reason to fear, sir," answered Barbara Simmons, lifting her +faded eyes to the young man's eager face, with a gaze that seemed to +say, "I have done no wrong, and I do not shrink from justifying +myself." "I have no reason to fear, sir; I was piously brought up, and +have done my best always to do my duty in the state of life in which +Providence has been pleased to place me. I have not had a particularly +happy life, sir; for thirty years ago I lost all that made me happy, in +them that loved me, and had a claim to love me. I have attached myself +to my mistress; but it isn't for me to expect a lady like her would +stoop to make me more to her or nearer to her than I have a right to be +as a servant." + +There was no accent of hypocrisy or cant in any one of these +deliberately-spoken words. It seemed as if in this speech the woman had +told the history of her life; a brief, unvarnished history of a barren +life, out of which all love and sunlight had been early swept away, +leaving behind a desolate blank, that was not destined to be filled up +by any affection from the young mistress so long and patiently served. + +"I am faithful to my mistress, sir," Barbara Simmons added, presently; +"and I try my best to do my duty to her. I owe no duty to any one +else." + +"You owe a duty to humanity," answered Edward Arundel. "Woman, do you +think duty is a thing to be measured by line and rule? Christ came to +save the lost sheep of the children of Israel; but was He less pitiful +to the Canaanitish woman when she carried her sorrows to His feet? You +and your mistress have made hard precepts for yourselves, and have +tried to live by them. You try to circumscribe the area of your +Christian charity, and to do good within given limits. The traveller +who fell among thieves would have died of his wounds, for any help he +might have had from you, if he had lain beyond your radius. Have you +yet to learn that Christianity is cosmopolitan, illimitable, +inexhaustible, subject to no laws of time or space? The duty you owe to +your mistress is a duty that she buys and pays for--a matter of sordid +barter, to be settled when you take your wages; the duty you owe to +every miserable creature in your pathway is a sacred debt, to be +accounted for to God." + +As the young soldier spoke thus, carried away by his passionate +agitation, suddenly eloquent by reason of the intensity of his feeling, +a change came over Barbara's face. There was no very palpable evidence +of emotion in that stolid countenance; but across the wooden blankness +of the woman's face flitted a transient shadow, which was like the +shadow of fear. + +"I tried to do my duty to Miss Marchmont as well as to my mistress," +she said. "I waited on her faithfully while she was ill. I sat up with +her six nights running; I didn't take my clothes off for a week. There +are folks in the house who can tell you as much." + +"God knows I am grateful to you, and will reward you for any pity you +may have shown my poor darling," the young man answered, in a more +subdued tone; "only, if you pity me, and wish to help me, speak out, +and speak plainly. What do you think has become of my lost girl?" + +"I cannot tell you, sir. As God looks down upon me and judges me, I +declare to you that I know no more than you know. But I think----" + +"You think what?" + +"That you will never see Miss Marchmont again." + +Edward Arundel started as violently as if, of all sentences, this was +the last he had expected to hear pronounced. His sanguine temperament, +fresh in its vigorous and untainted youth, could not grasp the thought +of despair. He could be mad with passionate anger against the obstacles +that separated him from his wife; but he could not believe those +obstacles to be insurmountable. He could not doubt the power of his own +devotion and courage to bring him back his lost love. + +"Never--see her--again!" + +He repeated these words as if they had belonged to a strange language, +and he were trying to make out their meaning. + +"You think," he gasped hoarsely, after a long pause,--"you +think--that--she is--dead?" + +"I think that she went out of this house in a desperate state of mind. +She was seen--not by me, for I should have thought it my duty to stop +her if I had seen her so--she was seen by one of the servants crying +and sobbing awfully as she went away upon that last afternoon." + +"And she was never seen again?" + +"Never by me." + +"And--you--you think she went out of this house with the intention +of--of--destroying herself?" + +The words died away in a hoarse whisper, and it was by the motion of +his white lips that Barbara Simmons perceived what the young man meant. + +"I do, sir." + +"Have you any--particular reason for thinking so?" + +"No reason beyond what I have told you, sir." + +Edward Arundel bent his head, and walked away to hide his blanched +face. He tried instinctively to conceal this mental suffering, as he +had sometimes hidden physical torture in an Indian hospital, prompted +by the involuntary impulse of a brave man. But though the woman's words +had come upon him like a thunderbolt, he had no belief in the opinion +they expressed. No; his young spirit wrestled against and rejected the +awful conclusion. Other people might think what they chose; but he knew +better than they. His wife was _not_ dead. His life had been so smooth, +so happy, so prosperous, so unclouded and successful, that it was +scarcely strange he should be sceptical of calamity,--that his mind +should be incapable of grasping the idea of a catastrophe so terrible +as Mary's suicide. + +"She was intrusted to me by her father," he thought. "She gave her +faith to me before God's altar. She _cannot_ have perished body and +soul; she _cannot_ have gone down to destruction for want of my arm +outstretched to save her. God is too good to permit such misery." + +The young soldier's piety was of the simplest and most unquestioning +order, and involved an implicit belief that a right cause must always +be ultimately victorious. With the same blind faith in which he had +often muttered a hurried prayer before plunging in amidst the mad havoc +of an Indian battle-field, confident that the justice of Heaven would +never permit heathenish Affghans to triumph over Christian British +gentlemen, he now believed that, in the darkest hour of Mary +Marchmont's life, God's arm had held her back from the dread +horror--the unatonable offence--of self-destruction. + +"I thank you for having spoken frankly to me," he said to Barbara +Simmons; "I believe that you have spoken in good faith. But I do not +think my darling is for ever lost to me. I anticipate trouble and +anxiety, disappointment, defeat for a time,--for a long time, perhaps; +but I _know_ that I shall find her in the end. The business of my life +henceforth is to look for her." + +Barbara's dull eyes held earnest watch upon the young man's countenance +as he spoke. Anxiety and even fear were in that gaze, palpable to those +who knew how to read the faint indications of the woman's stolid face. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE PARAGRAPH IN THE NEWSPAPER. + + +Mr. Morrison brought the gig and pony to the western porch while +Captain Arundel was talking to his cousin's servant, and presently the +invalid was being driven across the flat between the Towers and the +high-road to Kemberling. + +Mary's old favourite, Farmer Pollard's daughter, came out of a low +rustic shop as the gig drew up before her husband's door. This +good-natured, tender-hearted Hester, advanced to matronly dignity under +the name of Mrs. Jobson, carried a baby in her arms, and wore a white +dimity hood, that made a penthouse over her simple rosy face. But at +the sight of Captain Arundel nearly all the rosy colour disappeared +from the country-woman's plump cheeks, and she stared aghast at the +unlooked-for visitor, almost ready to believe that, if anything so +substantial as a pony and gig could belong to the spiritual world, it +was the phantom only of the soldier that she looked upon. + +"O sir!" she said; "O Captain Arundel, is it really you?" + +Edward alighted before Hester could recover from the surprise +occasioned by his appearance. + +"Yes, Mrs. Jobson," he said. "May I come into your house? I wish to +speak to you." + +Hester curtseyed, and stood aside to allow her visitor to pass her. Her +manner was coldly respectful, and she looked at the young officer with +a grave, reproachful face, which was strange to him. She ushered her +guest into a parlour at the back of the shop; a prim apartment, +splendid with varnished mahogany, shell-work boxes--bought during +Hester's honeymoon-trip to a Lincolnshire watering-place--and +voluminous achievements in the way of crochet-work; a gorgeous and +Sabbath-day chamber, looking across a stand of geraniums into a garden +that was orderly and trimly kept even in this dull November weather. + +Mrs. Jobson drew forward an uneasy easy-chair, covered with horsehair, +and veiled by a crochet-work representation of a peacock embowered +among roses. She offered this luxurious seat to Captain Arundel, who, +in his weakness, was well content to sit down upon the slippery +cushions. + +"I have come here to ask you to help me in my search for my wife, +Hester," Edward Arundel said, in a scarcely audible voice. + +It is not given to the bravest mind to be utterly independent and +defiant of the body; and the soldier was beginning to feel that he had +very nearly run the length of his tether, and must soon submit himself +to be prostrated by sheer physical weakness. + +"Your wife!" cried Hester eagerly. "O sir, is that true?" + +"Is what true?" + +"That poor Miss Mary was your lawful wedded wife?" + +"She was," replied Edward Arundel sternly, "my true and lawful wife. +What else should she have been, Mrs. Jobson?" + +The farmer's daughter burst into tears. + +"O sir," she said, sobbing violently as she spoke,--"O sir, the things +that was said against that poor dear in this place and all about the +Towers! The things that was said! It makes my heart bleed to think of +them; it makes my heart ready to break when I think what my poor sweet +young lady must have suffered. And it set me against you, sir; and I +thought you was a bad and cruel-hearted man!" + +"What did they say?" cried Edward. "What did they dare to say against +her or against me?" + +"They said that you had enticed her away from her home, sir, and +that--that--there had been no marriage; and that you had deluded that +poor innocent dear to run away with you; and that you'd deserted her +afterwards, and the railway accident had come upon you as a punishment +like; and that Mrs. Marchmont had found poor Miss Mary all alone at a +country inn, and had brought her back to the Towers." + +"But what if people did say this?" exclaimed Captain Arundel. "You +could have contradicted their foul slanders; you could have spoken in +defence of my poor helpless girl." + +"Me, sir!" + +"Yes. You must have heard the truth from my wife's own lips." + +Hester Jobson burst into a new flood of tears as Edward Arundel said +this. + +"O no, sir," she sobbed; "that was the most cruel thing of all. I never +could get to see Miss Mary; they wouldn't let me see her." + +"Who wouldn't let you?" + +"Mrs. Marchmont and Mr. Paul Marchmont. I was laid up, sir, when the +report first spread about that Miss Mary had come home. Things was kept +very secret, and it was said that Mrs. Marchmont was dreadfully cut up +by the disgrace that had come upon her stepdaughter. My baby was born +about that time, sir; but as soon as ever I could get about, I went up +to the Towers, in the hope of seeing my poor dear miss. But Mrs. +Simmons, Mrs. Marchmont's own maid, told me that Miss Mary was ill, +very ill, and that no one was allowed to see her except those that +waited upon her and that she was used to. And I begged and prayed that +I might be allowed to see her, sir, with the tears in my eyes; for my +heart bled for her, poor darling dear, when I thought of the cruel +things that was said against her, and thought that, with all her riches +and her learning, folks could dare to talk of her as they wouldn't dare +talk of a poor man's wife like me. And I went again and again, sir; but +it was no good; and, the last time I went, Mrs. Marchmont came out into +the hall to me, and told me that I was intrusive and impertinent, and +that it was me, and such as me, as had set all manner of scandal afloat +about her stepdaughter. But I went again, sir, even after that; and I +saw Mr. Paul Marchmont, and he was very kind to me, and frank and +free-spoken,--almost like you, sir; and he told me that Mrs. Marchmont +was rather stern and unforgiving towards the poor young lady,--he spoke +very kind and pitiful of poor Miss Mary,--and that he would stand my +friend, and he'd contrive that I should see my poor dear as soon as +ever she picked up her spirits a bit, and was more fit to see me; and I +was to come again in a week's time, he said." + +"Well; and when you went----?" + +"When I went, sir," sobbed the carpenter's wife, "it was the 18th of +October, and Miss Mary had run away upon the day before, and every body +at the Towers was being sent right and left to look for her. I saw Mrs. +Marchmont for a minute that afternoon; and she was as white as a sheet, +and all of a tremble from head to foot, and she walked about the place +as if she was out of her mind like." + +"Guilt," thought the young soldier; "guilt of some sort. God only knows +what that guilt has been!" + +He covered his face with his hands, and waited to hear what more Hester +Jobson had to tell him. There was no need of questioning here--no +reservation or prevarication. With almost as tender regret as he +himself could have felt, the carpenter's wife told him all that she +knew of the sad story of Mary's disappearance. + +"Nobody took much notice of me, sir, in the confusion of the place," +Mrs. Jobson continued; "and there is a parlour-maid at the Towers +called Susan Rose, that had been a schoolfellow with me ten years +before, and I got her to tell me all about it. And she said that poor +dear Miss Mary had been weak and ailing ever since she had recovered +from the brain-fever, and that she had shut herself up in her room, and +had seen no one except Mrs. Marchmont, and Mr. Paul, and Barbara +Simmons; but on the 17th Mrs. Marchmont sent for her, asking her to +come to the study. And the poor young lady went; and then Susan Rose +thinks that there was high words between Mrs. Marchmont and her +stepdaughter; for as Susan was crossing the hall poor Miss came out of +the study, and her face was all smothered in tears, and she cried out, +as she came into the hall, 'I can't bear it any longer. My life is too +miserable; my fate is too wretched!' And then she ran upstairs, and +Susan Rose followed up to her room and listened outside the door; and +she heard the poor dear sobbing and crying out again and again, 'O +papa, papa! If you knew what I suffer! O papa, papa, papa!'--so +pitiful, that if Susan Rose had dared she would have gone in to try and +comfort her; but Miss Mary had always been very reserved to all the +servants, and Susan didn't dare intrude upon her. It was late that +evening when my poor young lady was missed, and the servants sent out +to look for her." + +"And you, Hester,--you knew my wife better than any of these +people,--where do you think she went?" + +Hester Jobson looked piteously at the questioner. + +"O sir!" she cried; "O Captain Arundel, don't ask me; pray, pray don't +ask me." + +"You think like these other people,--you think that she went away to +destroy herself?" + +"O sir, what can I think, what can I think except that? She was last +seen down by the water-side, and one of her shoes was picked up amongst +the rushes; and for all there's been such a search made after her, and +a reward offered, and advertisements in the papers, and everything done +that mortal could do to find her, there's been no news of her, +sir,--not a trace to tell of her being living; not a creature to come +forward and speak to her being seen by them after that day. What can I +think, sir, what can I think, except--" + +"Except that she threw herself into the river behind Marchmont Towers." + +"I've tried to think different, sir; I've tried to hope I should see +that poor sweet lamb again; but I can't, I can't. I've worn mourning +for these three last Sundays, sir; for I seemed to feel as if it was a +sin and a disrespectfulness towards her to wear colours, and sit in the +church where I have seen her so often, looking so meek and beautiful, +Sunday after Sunday." + +Edward Arundel bowed his head upon his hands and wept silently. This +woman's belief in Mary's death afflicted him more than he dared confess +to himself. He had defied Olivia and Paul Marchmont, as enemies, who +tried to force a false conviction upon him; but he could neither doubt +nor defy this honest, warm-hearted creature, who wept aloud over the +memory of his wife's sorrows. He could not doubt her sincerity; but he +still refused to accept the belief which on every side was pressed upon +him. He still refused to think that his wife was dead. + +"The river was dragged for more than a week," he said, presently, "and +my wife's body was never found." + +Hester Jobson shook her head mournfully. + +"That's a poor sign, sir," she answered; "the river's full of holes, +I've heard say. My husband had a fellow-'prentice who drowned himself +in that river seven year ago, and _his_ body was never found." + +Edward Arundel rose and walked towards the door. + +"I do not believe that my wife is dead," he cried. He held out his hand +to the carpenter's wife. "God bless you!" he said. "I thank you from my +heart for your tender feeling towards my lost girl." + +He went out to the gig, in which Mr. Morrison waited for him, rather +tired of his morning's work. + +"There is an inn a little way farther along the street, Morrison," +Captain Arundel said. "I shall stop there." + +The man stared at his master. + +"And not go back to Marchmont Towers, Mr. Edward?" + +"No." + +Edward Arundel had held Nature in abeyance for more than +four-and-twenty hours, and this outraged Nature now took her revenge by +flinging the young man prostrate and powerless upon his bed at the +simple Kemberling hostelry, and holding him prisoner there for three +dreary days; three miserable days, with long, dark interminable +evenings, during which the invalid had no better employment than to lie +brooding over his sorrows, while Mr. Morrison read the "Times" +newspaper in a monotonous and droning voice, for his sick master's +entertainment. + +How that helpless and prostrate prisoner, bound hand and foot in the +stern grasp of retaliative Nature, loathed the leading-articles, the +foreign correspondence, in the leviathan journal! How he sickened at +the fiery English of Printing-House Square, as expounded by Mr. +Morrison! The sound of the valet's voice was like the unbroken flow of +a dull river. The great names that surged up every now and then upon +that sluggish tide of oratory made no impression upon the sick man's +mind. What was it to him if the glory of England were in danger, the +freedom of a mighty people wavering in the balance? What was it to him +if famine-stricken Ireland were perishing, and the far-away Indian +possessions menaced by contumacious and treacherous Sikhs? What was it +to him if the heavens were shrivelled like a blazing scroll, and the +earth reeling on its shaken foundations? What had he to do with any +catastrophe except that which had fallen upon his innocent young wife? + +"O my broken trust!" he muttered sometimes, to the alarm of the +confidential servant; "O my broken trust!" + +But during the three days in which Captain Arundel lay in the best +chamber at the Black Bull--the chief inn of Kemberling, and a very +splendid place of public entertainment long ago, when all the +northward-bound coaches had passed through that quiet Lincolnshire +village--he was not without a medical attendant to give him some feeble +help in the way of drugs and doctor's stuff, in the battle which he was +fighting with offended Nature. I don't know but that the help, however +well intended, may have gone rather to strengthen the hand of the +enemy; for in those days--the year '48 is very long ago when we take +the measure of time by science--country practitioners were apt to place +themselves upon the side of the disease rather than of the patient, and +to assist grim Death in his siege, by lending the professional aid of +purgatives and phlebotomy. + +On this principle Mr. George Weston, the surgeon of Kemberling, and the +submissive and well-tutored husband of Paul Marchmont's sister, would +fain have set to work with the prostrate soldier, on the plea that the +patient's skin was hot and dry, and his white lips parched with fever. +But Captain Arundel protested vehemently against any such treatment. + +"You shall not take an ounce of blood out of my veins," he said, "or +give me one drop of medicine that will weaken me. What I want is +strength; strength to get up and leave this intolerable room, and go +about the business that I have to do. As to fever," he added +scornfully, "as long as I have to lie here and am hindered from going +about the business of my life, every drop of my blood will boil with a +fever that all the drugs in Apothecaries' Hall would have no power to +subdue. Give me something to strengthen me. Patch me up somehow or +other, Mr. Weston, if you can. But I warn you that, if you keep me long +here, I shall leave this place either a corpse or a madman." + +The surgeon, drinking tea with his wife and brother-in-law half an hour +afterwards, related the conversation that had taken place between +himself and his patient, breaking up his narrative with a great many "I +said's" and "said he's," and with a good deal of rambling commentary +upon the text. + +Lavinia Weston looked at her brother while the surgeon told his story. + +"He is very desperate about his wife, then, this dashing young +captain?" Mr. Marchmont said, presently. + +"Awful," answered the surgeon; "regular awful. I never saw anything +like it. Really it was enough to cut a man up to hear him go on so. He +asked me all sorts of questions about the time when she was ill and I +attended upon her, and what did she say to me, and did she seem very +unhappy, and all that sort of thing. Upon my word, you know, Mr. +Paul,--of course I am very glad to think of your coming into the +fortune, and I'm very much obliged to you for the kind promises you've +made to me and Lavinia; but I almost felt as if I could have wished the +poor young lady hadn't drowned herself." + +Mrs. Weston shrugged her shoulders, and looked at her brother. + +"_Imbecile!_" she muttered. + +She was accustomed to talk to her brother very freely in rather +school-girl French before her husband, to whom that language was as the +most recondite of tongues, and who heartily admired her for superior +knowledge. + +He sat staring at her now, and eating bread-and-butter with a simple +relish, which in itself was enough to mark him out as a man to be +trampled upon. + + * * * * * + +On the fourth day after his interview with Hester, Edward Arundel was +strong enough to leave his chamber at the Black Bull. + +"I shall go to London by to-night's mail, Morrison," he said to his +servant; "but before I leave Lincolnshire, I must pay another visit to +Marchmont Towers. You can stop here, and pack my portmanteau while I +go." + +A rumbling old fly--looked upon as a splendid equipage by the +inhabitants of Kemberling--was furnished for Captain Arundel's +accommodation by the proprietor of the Black Bull; and once more the +soldier approached that ill-omened dwelling-place which had been the +home of his wife. + +He was ushered without any delay to the study in which Olivia spent the +greater part of her time. + +The dusky afternoon was already closing in. A low fire burned in the +old-fashioned grate, and one lighted wax-candle stood upon an open +davenport, before which the widow sat amid a confusion of torn papers, +cast upon the ground about her. + +The open drawers of the davenport, the littered scraps of paper and +loosely-tied documents, thrust, without any show of order, into the +different compartments of the desk, bore testimony to that state of +mental distraction which had been common to Olivia Marchmont for some +time past. She herself, the gloomy tenant of the Towers, sat with her +elbow resting on her desk, looking hopelessly and absently at the +confusion before her. + +"I am very tired," she said, with a sigh, as she motioned her cousin to +a chair. "I have been trying to sort my papers, and to look for bills +that have to be paid, and receipts. They come to me about everything. I +am very tired." + +Her manner was changed from that stern defiance with which she had last +confronted her kinsman to an air of almost piteous feebleness. She +rested her head on her hand, repeating, in a low voice, + +"Yes, I am very tired." + +Edward Arundel looked earnestly at her faded face, so faded from that +which he remembered it in its proud young beauty, that, in spite of his +doubt of this woman, he could scarcely refrain from some touch of pity +for her. + +"You are ill, Olivia," he said. + +"Yes, I am ill; I am worn out; I am tired of my life. Why does not God +have pity upon me, and take the bitter burden away? I have carried it +too long." + +She said this not so much to her cousin as to herself. She was like Job +in his despair, and cried aloud to the Supreme Himself in a gloomy +protest against her anguish. + +"Olivia," said Edward Arundel very earnestly, "what is it that makes +you unhappy? Is the burden that you carry a burden on your conscience? +Is the black shadow upon your life a guilty secret? Is the cause of +your unhappiness that which I suspect it to be? Is it that, in some +hour of passion, you consented to league yourself with Paul Marchmont +against my poor innocent girl? For pity's sake, speak, and undo what +you have done. You cannot have been guilty of a crime. There has been +some foul play, some conspiracy, some suppression; and my darling has +been lured away by the machinations of this man. But he could not have +got her into his power without your help. You hated her,--Heaven alone +knows for what reason,--and in an evil hour you helped him, and now you +are sorry for what you have done. But it is not too late, Olivia; +Olivia, it is surely not too late. Speak, speak, woman, and undo what +you have done. As you hope for mercy and forgiveness from God, undo +what you have done. I will exact no atonement from you. Paul Marchmont, +this smooth traitor, this frank man of the world, who defied me with a +smile,--he only shall be called upon to answer for the wrong done +against my darling. Speak, Olivia, for pity's sake," cried the young +man, casting himself upon his knees at his cousin's feet. "You are of +my own blood; you must have some spark of regard for me; have +compassion upon me, then, or have compassion upon your own guilty soul, +which must perish everlastingly if you withhold the truth. Have pity, +Olivia, and speak!" + +The widow had risen to her feet, recoiling from the soldier as he knelt +before her, and looking at him with an awful light in the eyes that +alone gave life to her corpse-like face. + +Suddenly she flung her arms up above her head, stretching her wasted +hands towards the ceiling. + +"By the God who has renounced and abandoned me," she cried, "I have no +more knowledge than you have of Mary Marchmont's fate. From the hour in +which she left this house, upon the 17th of October, until this present +moment, I have neither seen her nor heard of her. If I have lied to +you, Edward Arundel," she added, dropping her extended arms, and +turning quietly to her cousin,--"if I have lied to you in saying this, +may the tortures which I suffer be doubled to me,--if in the infinite +of suffering there is any anguish worse than that I now endure." + +Edward Arundel paused for a little while, brooding over this strange +reply to his appeal. Could he disbelieve his cousin? + +It is common to some people to make forcible and impious asseverations +of an untruth shamelessly, in the very face of an insulted Heaven. But +Olivia Marchmont was a woman who, in the very darkest hour of her +despair, knew no wavering from her faith in the God she had offended. + +"I cannot refuse to believe you, Olivia," Captain Arundel said +presently. "I do believe in your solemn protestations, and I no longer +look for help from you in my search for my lost love. I absolve you +from all suspicion of being aware of her fate _after_ she left this +house. But so long as she remained beneath this roof she was in your +care, and I hold you responsible for the ills that may have then +befallen her. You, Olivia, must have had some hand in driving that +unhappy girl away from her home." + +The widow had resumed her seat by the open davenport. She sat with her +head bent, her brows contracted, her mouth fixed and rigid, her left +hand trifling absently with the scattered papers before her. + +"You accused me of this once before, when Mary Marchmont left this +house," she said sullenly. + +"And you were guilty then," answered Edward. + +"I cannot hold myself answerable for the actions of others. Mary +Marchmont left this time, as she left before, of her own free will." + +"Driven away by your cruel words." + +"She must have been very weak," answered Olivia, with a sneer, "if a +few harsh words were enough to drive her away from her own house." + +"You deny, then, that you were guilty of causing this poor deluded +child's flight from this house?" + +Olivia Marchmont sat for some moments in moody silence; then suddenly +raising her head, she looked her cousin full in the face. + +"I do," she exclaimed; "if any one except herself is guilty of an act +which was her own, I am not that person." + +"I understand," said Edward Arundel; "it was Paul Marchmont's hand that +drove her out upon the dreary world. It was Paul Marchmont's brain that +plotted against her. You were only a minor instrument; a willing tool, +in the hands of a subtle villain. But he shall answer; he shall +answer!" + +The soldier spoke the last words between his clenched teeth. Then with +his chin upon his breast, he sat thinking over what he had just heard. + +"How was it?" he muttered; "how was it? He is too consummate a villain +to use violence. His manner the other morning told me that the law was +on his side. He had done nothing to put himself into my power, and he +defied me. How was it, then? By what means did he drive my darling to +her despairing flight?" + +As Captain Arundel sat thinking of these things, his cousin's idle +fingers still trifled with the papers on the desk; while, with her chin +resting on her other hand, and her eyes fixed upon the wall before her, +she stared blankly at the reflection of the flame of the candle on the +polished oaken panel. Her idle fingers, following no design, strayed +here and there among the scattered papers, until a few that lay nearest +the edge of the desk slid off the smooth morocco, and fluttered to the +ground. + +Edward Arundel, as absent-minded as his cousin, stooped involuntarily +to pick up the papers. The uppermost of those that had fallen was a +slip cut from a country newspaper, to which was pinned an open letter, +a few lines only. The paragraph in the newspaper slip was marked by +double ink-lines, drawn round it by a neat penman. Again almost +involuntarily, Edward Arundel looked at this marked paragraph. It was +very brief: + +"We regret to be called upon to state that another of the sufferers in +the accident which occurred last August on the South-Western Railway +has expired from injuries received upon that occasion. Captain Arundel, +of the H.E.I.C.S., died on Friday night at Dangerfield Park, Devon, the +seat of his elder brother." + +The letter was almost as brief as the paragraph: + +"Kemberling, October 17th. + +"MY DEAR MRS. MARCHMONT,--The enclosed has just come to hand. Let us +hope it is not true. But, in case of the worst, it should be shown to +Miss Marchmont _immediately_. Better that she should hear the news from +you than from a stranger. + +"Yours sincerely, + +"PAUL MARCHMONT." + +"I understand everything now," said Edward Arundel, laying these two +papers before his cousin; "it was with this printed lie that you and +Paul Marchmont drove my wife to despair--perhaps to death. My darling, +my darling," cried the young man, in a burst of uncontrollable agony, +"I refused to believe that you were dead; I refused to believe that you +were lost to me. I can believe it now; I can believe it now." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +EDWARD ARUNDEL'S DESPAIR. + + +Yes; Edward Arundel could believe the worst now. He could believe now +that his young wife, on hearing tidings of his death, had rushed madly +to her own destruction; too desolate, too utterly unfriended and +miserable, to live under the burden of her sorrows. + +Mary had talked to her husband in the happy, loving confidence of her +bright honeymoon; she had talked to him of her father's death, and the +horrible grief she had felt; the heart-sickness, the eager yearning to +be carried to the same grave, to rest in the same silent sleep. + +"I think I tried to throw myself from the window upon the night before +papa's funeral," she had said; "but I fainted away. I know it was very +wicked of me. But I was mad. My wretchedness had driven me mad." + +He remembered this. Might not this girl, this helpless child, in the +first desperation of her grief, have hurried down to that dismal river, +to hide her sorrows for ever under its slow and murky tide? + +Henceforward it was with a new feeling that Edward Arundel looked for +his missing wife. The young and hopeful spirit which had wrestled +against conviction, which had stubbornly preserved its own sanguine +fancies against the gloomy forebodings of others, had broken down +before the evidence of that false paragraph in the country newspaper. +That paragraph was the key to the sad mystery of Mary Arundel's +disappearance. Her husband could understand now why she ran away, why +she despaired; and how, in that desperation and despair, she might have +hastily ended her short life. + +It was with altered feelings, therefore, that he went forth to look for +her. He was no longer passionate and impatient, for he no longer +believed that his young wife lived to yearn for his coming, and to +suffer for the want of his protection; he no longer thought of her as a +lonely and helpless wanderer driven from her rightful home, and in her +childish ignorance straying farther and farther away from him who had +the right to succour and to comfort her. No; he thought of her now with +sullen despair at his heart; he thought of her now in utter +hopelessness; he thought of her with a bitter and agonising regret, +which we only feel for the dead. + +But this grief was not the only feeling that held possession of the +young soldier's breast. Stronger even than his sorrow was his eager +yearning for vengeance, his savage desire for retaliation. + +"I look upon Paul Marchmont as the murderer of my wife," he said to +Olivia, on that November evening on which he saw the paragraph in the +newspaper; "I look upon that man as the deliberate destroyer of a +helpless girl; and he shall answer to me for her life. He shall answer +to me for every pang she suffered, for every tear she shed. God have +mercy upon her poor erring soul, and help me to my vengeance upon her +destroyer." + +He lifted his eyes to heaven as he spoke, and a solemn shadow +overspread his pale face, like a dark cloud upon a winter landscape. + +I have said that Edward Arundel no longer felt a frantic impatience to +discover his wife's fate. The sorrowful conviction which at last had +forced itself upon him left no room for impatience. The pale face he +had loved was lying hidden somewhere beneath those dismal waters. He +had no doubt of that. There was no need of any other solution to the +mystery of his wife's disappearance. That which he had to seek for was +the evidence of Paul Marchmont's guilt. + +The outspoken young soldier, whose nature was as transparent as the +stainless soul of a child, had to enter into the lists with a man who +was so different from himself, that it was almost difficult to believe +the two individuals belonged to the same species. + +Captain Arundel went back to London, and betook himself forthwith to +the office of Messrs. Paulette, Paulette, and Mathewson. He had the +idea, common to many of his class, that all lawyers, whatever claims +they might have to respectability, are in a manner past-masters in +every villanous art; and, as such, the proper people to deal with a +villain. + +"Richard Paulette will be able to help me," thought the young man; +"Richard Paulette saw through Paul Marchmont, I dare say." + +But Richard Paulette had very little to say about the matter. He had +known Edward Arundel's father, and he had known the young soldier from +his early boyhood, and he seemed deeply grieved to witness his client's +distress; but he had nothing to say against Paul Marchmont. + +"I cannot see what right you have to suspect Mr. Marchmont of any +guilty share in your wife's disappearance," he said. "Do not think I +defend him because he is our client. You know that we are rich enough, +and honourable enough, to refuse the business of any man whom we +thought a villain. When I was in Lincolnshire, Mr. Marchmont did +everything that a man could do to testify his anxiety to find his +cousin." + +"Oh, yes," Edward Arundel answered bitterly; "that is only consistent +with the man's diabolical artifice; _that_ was a part of his scheme. He +wished to testify that anxiety, and he wanted you as a witness to his +conscientious search after my--poor--lost girl." His voice and manner +changed for a moment as he spoke of Mary. + +Richard Paulette shook his head. + +"Prejudice, prejudice, my dear Arundel," he said; "this is all +prejudice upon your part, I assure you. Mr. Marchmont behaved with +perfect honesty and candour. 'I won't tell you that I'm sorry to +inherit this fortune,' he said, 'because if I did you wouldn't believe +me--what man in his senses _could_ believe that a poor devil of a +landscape painter would regret coming into eleven thousand a year?--but +I am very sorry for this poor little girl's unhappy fate.' And I +believe," added Mr. Paulette, decisively, "that the man was heartily +sorry." + +Edward Arundel groaned aloud. + +"O God! this is too terrible," he muttered. "Everybody will believe in +this man rather than in me. How am I to be avenged upon the wretch who +caused my darling's death?" + +He talked for a long time to the lawyer, but with no result. Richard +Paulette considered the young man's hatred of Paul Marchmont only a +natural consequence of his grief for Mary's death. + +"I can't wonder that you are prejudiced against Mr. Marchmont," he +said; "it's natural; it's only natural; but, believe me, you are wrong. +Nothing could be more straightforward, and even delicate, than his +conduct. He refuses to take possession of the estate, or to touch a +farthing of the rents. 'No,' he said, when I suggested to him that he +had a right to enter in possession,--'no; we will not shut the door +against hope. My cousin may be hiding herself somewhere; she may return +by-and-by. Let us wait a twelvemonth. If at the end of that time, she +does not return, and if in the interim we receive no tidings from her, +no evidence of her existence, we may reasonably conclude that she is +dead; and I may fairly consider myself the rightful owner of Marchmont +Towers. In the mean time, you will act as if you were still Mary +Marchmont's agent, holding all moneys as in trust for her, but to be +delivered up to me at the expiration of a year from the day on which +she disappeared.' I do not think anything could be more straightforward +than that," added Richard Paulette, in conclusion. + +"No," Edward answered, with a sigh; "it _seems_ very straightforward. +But the man who could strike at a helpless girl by means of a lying +paragraph in a newspaper--" + +"Mr. Marchmont may have believed in that paragraph." + +Edward Arundel rose, with a gesture of impatience. + +"I came to you for help, Mr. Paulette," he said; "but I see you don't +mean to help me. Good day." + +He left the office before the lawyer could remonstrate with him. He +walked away, with passionate anger against all the world raging in his +breast. + +"Why, what a smooth-spoken, false-tongued world it is!" he thought. +"Let a man succeed in the vilest scheme, and no living creature will +care to ask by what foul means he may have won his success. What +weapons can I use against this Paul Marchmont, who twists truth and +honesty to his own ends, and masks his basest treachery under an +appearance of candour?" + +From Lincoln's Inn Fields Captain Arundel drove over Waterloo Bridge to +Oakley Street. He went to Mrs. Pimpernel's establishment, without any +hope of the glad surprise that had met him there a few months before. +He believed implicitly that his wife was dead, and wherever he went in +search of her he went in utter hopelessness, only prompted by the +desire to leave no part of his duty undone. + +The honest-hearted dealer in cast-off apparel wept bitterly when she +heard how sadly the Captain's honeymoon had ended. She would have been +content to detain the young soldier all day, while she bemoaned the +misfortunes that had come upon him; and now, for the first time, Edward +heard of dismal forebodings, and horrible dreams, and unaccountable +presentiments of evil, with which this honest woman had been afflicted +on and before his wedding-day, and of which she had made special +mention at the time to divers friends and acquaintances. + +"I never shall forget how shivery-like I felt as the cab drove off, +with that pore dear a-lookin' and smilin' at me out of the winder. I +says to Mrs. Polson, as her husband is in the shoemakin' line, two +doors further down,--I says, 'I do hope Capting Harungdell's lady will +get safe to the end of her journey.' I felt the cold shivers a-creepin' +up my back just azackly like I did a fortnight before my pore Jane +died, and I couldn't get it off my mind as somethink was goin' to +happen." + +From London Captain Arundel went to Winchester, much to the disgust of +his valet, who was accustomed to a luxuriously idle life at Dangerfield +Park, and who did not by any means relish this desultory wandering from +place to place. Perhaps there was some faint ray of hope in the young +man's mind, as he drew near to that little village-inn beneath whose +shelter he had been so happy with his childish bride. If she had _not_ +committed suicide; if she had indeed wandered away, to try and bear her +sorrows in gentle Christian resignation; if she had sought some retreat +where she might be safe from her tormentors,--would not every instinct +of her loving heart have led her here?--here, amid these low meadows +and winding streams, guarded and surrounded by the pleasant shelter of +grassy hill-tops, crowned by waving trees?--here, where she had been so +happy with the husband of her choice? + +But, alas! that newly-born hope, which had made the soldier's heart +beat and his cheek flush, was as delusive as many other hopes that lure +men and women onward in their weary wanderings upon this earth. The +landlord of the White Hart Inn answered Edward Arundel's question with +stolid indifference. + +No; the young lady had gone away with her ma, and a gentleman who came +with her ma. She had cried a deal, poor thing, and had seemed very much +cut up. (It was from the chamber-maid Edward heard this.) But her ma +and the gentleman had seemed in a great hurry to take her away. The +gentleman said that a village inn wasn't the place for her, and he said +he was very much shocked to find her there; and he had a fly got ready, +and took the two ladies away in it to the George, at Winchester, and +they were to go from there to London; and the young lady was crying +when she went away, and was as pale as death, poor dear. + +This was all that Captain Arundel gained by his journey to Milldale. He +went across country to the farming people near Reading, his wife's poor +relations. But they had heard nothing of her. They had wondered, +indeed, at having no letters from her, for she had been very kind to +them. They were terribly distressed when they were told of her +disappearance. + +This was the forlorn hope. It was all over now. Edward Arundel could no +longer struggle against the cruel truth. He could do nothing now but +avenge his wife's sorrows. He went down to Devonshire, saw his mother, +and told her the sad story of Mary's flight. But he could not rest at +Dangerfield, though Mrs. Arundel implored him to stay long enough to +recruit his shattered health. He hurried back to London, made +arrangements with his agent for being bought out of his regiment by his +brother officers, and then, turning his back upon the career that had +been far dearer to him than his life, he went down to Lincolnshire once +more, in the dreary winter weather, to watch and wait patiently, if +need were, for the day of retribution. + +There was a detached cottage, a lonely place enough, between Kemberling +and Marchmont Towers, that had been to let for a long time, being very +much out of repair, and by no means inviting in appearance. Edward +Arundel took this cottage. All necessary repairs and alterations were +executed under the direction of Mr. Morrison, who was to remain +permanently in the young man's service. Captain Arundel had a couple of +horses brought down to his new stable, and hired a country lad, who was +to act as groom under the eye of the factotum. Mr. Morrison and this +lad, with one female servant, formed Edward's establishment. + +Paul Marchmont lifted his auburn eyebrows when he heard of the new +tenant of Kemberling Retreat. The lonely cottage had been christened +Kemberling Retreat by a sentimental tenant; who had ultimately +levanted, leaving his rent three quarters in arrear. The artist +exhibited a gentlemanly surprise at this new vagary of Edward +Arundel's, and publicly expressed his pity for the foolish young man. + +"I am so sorry that the poor fellow should sacrifice himself to a +romantic grief for my unfortunate cousin," Mr. Marchmont said, in the +parlour of the Black Bull, where he condescended to drop in now and +then with his brother-in-law, and to make himself popular amongst the +magnates of Kemberling, and the tenant-farmers, who looked to him as +their future, if not their actual, landlord. "I am really sorry for the +poor lad. He's a handsome, high-spirited fellow, and I'm sorry he's +been so weak as to ruin his prospects in the Company's service. Yes; I +am heartily sorry for him." + +Mr. Marchmont discussed the matter very lightly in the parlour of the +Black Bull, but he kept silence as he walked home with the surgeon; and +Mr. George Weston, looking askance at his brother-in-law's face, saw +that something was wrong, and thought it advisable to hold his peace. + +Paul Marchmont sat up late that night talking to Lavinia after the +surgeon had gone to bed. The brother and sister conversed in subdued +murmurs as they stood close together before the expiring fire, and the +faces of both were very grave, indeed, almost apprehensive. + +"He must be terribly in earnest," Paul Marchmont said, "or he would +never have sacrificed his position. He has planted himself here, close +upon us, with a determination of watching us. We shall have to be very +careful." + + * * * * * + +It was early in the new year that Edward Arundel completed all his +arrangements, and took possession of Kemberling Retreat. He knew that, +in retiring from the East India Company's service, he had sacrificed +the prospect of a brilliant and glorious career, under some of the +finest soldiers who ever fought for their country. But he had made this +sacrifice willingly--as an offering to the memory of his lost love; as +an atonement for his broken trust. For it was one of his most bitter +miseries to remember that his own want of prudence had been the first +cause of all Mary's sorrows. Had he confided in his mother,--had he +induced her to return from Germany to be present at his marriage, and +to accept the orphan girl as a daughter,--Mary need never again have +fallen into the power of Olivia Marchmont. His own imprudence, his own +rashness, had flung this poor child, helpless and friendless, into the +hands of the very man against whom John Marchmont had written a solemn +warning,--a warning that it should have been Edward's duty to remember. +But who could have calculated upon the railway accident; and who could +have foreseen a separation in the first blush of the honeymoon? Edward +Arundel had trusted in his own power to protect his bride from every +ill that might assail her. In the pride of his youth and strength he +had forgotten that he was not immortal, and the last idea that could +have entered his mind was the thought that he should be stricken down +by a sudden calamity, and rendered even more helpless than the girl he +had sworn to shield and succour. + +The bleak winter crept slowly past, and the shrill March winds were +loud amidst the leafless trees in the wood behind Marchmont Towers. +This wood was open to any foot-passenger who might choose to wander +that way; and Edward Arundel often walked upon the bank of the slow +river, and past the boat-house, beneath whose shadow he had wooed his +young wife in the bright summer that was gone. The place had a mournful +attraction for the young man, by reason of the memory of the past, and +a different and far keener fascination in the fact of Paul Marchmont's +frequent occupation of his roughly-built painting-room. + +In a purposeless and unsettled frame of mind, Edward Arundel kept watch +upon the man he hated, scarcely knowing why he watched, or for what he +hoped, but with a vague belief that something would be discovered; that +some accident might come to pass which would enable him to say to Paul +Marchmont, + +"It was by your treachery my wife perished; and it is you who must +answer to me for her death." + +Edward Arundel had seen nothing of his cousin Olivia during that dismal +winter. He had held himself aloof from the Towers,--that is to say, he +had never presented himself there as a guest, though he had been often +on horseback and on foot in the wood by the river. He had not seen +Olivia, but he had heard of her through his valet, Mr. Morrison, who +insisted on repeating the gossip of Kemberling for the benefit of his +listless and indifferent master. + +"They do say as Mr. Paul Marchmont is going to marry Mrs. John +Marchmont, sir," Mr. Morrison said, delighted at the importance of his +information. "They say as Mr. Paul is always up at the Towers visitin' +Mrs. John, and that she takes his advice about everything as she does, +and that she's quite wrapped up in him like." + +Edward Arundel looked at his attendant with unmitigated surprise. + +"My cousin Olivia marry Paul Marchmont!" he exclaimed. "You should be +wiser than to listen to such foolish gossip, Morrison. You know what +country people are, and you know they can't keep their tongues quiet." + +Mr. Morrison took this reproach as a compliment to his superior +intelligence. + +"It ain't oftentimes as I listens to their talk, sir," he said; "but if +I've heard this said once, I've heard it twenty times; and I've heard +it at the Black Bull, too, Mr. Edward, where Mr. Marchmont fre_quents_ +sometimes with his sister's husband; and the landlord told me as it had +been spoken of once before his face, and he didn't deny it." + +Edward Arundel pondered gravely over this gossip of the Kemberling +people. It was not so very improbable, perhaps, after all. Olivia only +held Marchmont Towers on sufferance. It might be that, rather than be +turned out of her stately home, she would accept the hand of its +rightful owner. She would marry Paul Marchmont, perhaps, as she had +married his brother,--for the sake of a fortune and a position. She had +grudged Mary her wealth, and now she sought to become a sharer in that +wealth. + +"Oh, the villany, the villany!" cried the soldier. "It is all one base +fabric of treachery and wrong. A marriage between these two will be +only a part of the scheme. Between them they have driven my darling to +her death, and they will now divide the profits of their guilty work." + +The young man determined to discover whether there had been any +foundation for the Kemberling gossip. He had not seen his cousin since +the day of his discovery of the paragraph in the newspaper, and he went +forthwith to the Towers, bent on asking Olivia the straight question as +to the truth of the reports that had reached his ears. + +He walked over to the dreary mansion. He had regained his strength by +this time, and he had recovered his good looks; but something of the +brightness of his youth was gone; something of the golden glory of his +beauty had faded. He was no longer the young Apollo, fresh and radiant +with the divinity of the skies. He had suffered; and suffering had left +its traces on his countenance. That smiling hopefulness, that supreme +confidence in a bright future, which is the virginity of beauty, had +perished beneath the withering influence of affliction. + +Mrs. Marchmont was not to be seen at the Towers. She had gone down to +the boat-house with Mr. Paul Marchmont and Mrs. Weston, the servant +said. + +"I will see them together," Edward Arundel thought. "I will see if my +cousin dares to tell me that she means to marry this man." + +He walked through the wood to the lonely building by the river. The +March winds were blowing among the leafless trees, ruffling the black +pools of water that the rain had left in every hollow; the smoke from +the chimney of Paul Marchmont's painting-room struggled hopelessly +against the wind, and was beaten back upon the roof from which it tried +to rise. Everything succumbed before that pitiless north-easter. + +Edward Arundel knocked at the door of the wooden edifice erected by his +foe. He scarcely waited for the answer to his summons, but lifted the +latch, and walked across the threshold, uninvited, unwelcome. + +There were four people in the painting-room. Two or three seemed to +have been talking together when Edward knocked at the door; but the +speakers had stopped simultaneously and abruptly, and there was a dead +silence when he entered. + +Olivia Marchmont was standing under the broad northern window; the +artist was sitting upon one of the steps leading up to the pavilion; +and a few paces from him, in an old cane-chair near the easel, sat +George Weston, the surgeon, with his wife leaning over the back of his +chair. It was at this man that Edward Arundel looked longest, riveted +by the strange expression of his face. The traces of intense agitation +have a peculiar force when seen in a usually stolid countenance. Your +mobile faces are apt to give an exaggerated record of emotion. We grow +accustomed to their changeful expression, their vivid betrayal of every +passing sensation. But this man's was one of those faces which are only +changed from their apathetic stillness by some moral earthquake, whose +shock arouses the most impenetrable dullard from his stupid +imperturbability. Such a shock had lately affected George Weston, the +quiet surgeon of Kemberling, the submissive husband of Paul Marchmont's +sister. His face was as white as death; a slow trembling shook his +ponderous frame; with one of his big fat hands he pulled a cotton +handkerchief from his pocket, and tremulously wiped the perspiration +from his bald forehead. His wife bent over him, and whispered a few +words in his ear; but he shook his head with a piteous gesture, as if +to testify his inability to comprehend her. It was impossible for a man +to betray more obvious signs of violent agitation than this man +betrayed. + +"It's no use, Lavinia," he murmured hopelessly, as his wife whispered +to him for the second time; "it's no use, my dear; I can't get over +it." + +Mrs. Weston cast one rapid, half-despairing, half-appealing glance at +her brother, and in the next moment recovered herself, by an effort +only such as great women, or wicked women, are capable of. + +"Oh, you men!" she cried, in her liveliest voice; "oh, you men! What +big silly babies, what nervous creatures you are! Come, George, I won't +have you giving way to this foolish nonsense, just because an extra +glass or so of Mrs. Marchmont's very fine old port has happened to +disagree with you. You must not think we are a drunkard, Mr. Arundel," +added the lady, turning playfully to Edward, and patting her husband's +clumsy shoulder as she spoke; "we are only a poor village surgeon, with +a limited income, and a very weak head, and quite unaccustomed to old +light port. Come, Mr. George Weston, walk out into the open air, sir, +and let us see if the March wind will bring you back your senses." + +And without another word Lavinia Weston hustled her husband, who walked +like a man in a dream, out of the painting-room, and closed the door +behind her. + +Paul Marchmont laughed as the door shut upon his brother-in-law. + +"Poor George!" he said, carelessly; "I thought he helped himself to the +port a little too liberally. He never could stand a glass of wine; and +he's the most stupid creature when he is drunk." + +Excellent as all this by-play was, Edward Arundel was not deceived by +it. + +"The man was not drunk," he thought; "he was frightened. What could +have happened to throw him into that state? What mystery are these +people hiding amongst themselves; and what should _he_ have to do with +it?" + +"Good evening, Captain Arundel," Paul Marchmont said. "I congratulate +you on the change in your appearance since you were last in this place. +You seem to have quite recovered the effects of that terrible railway +accident." + +Edward Arundel drew himself up stiffly as the artist spoke to him. + +"We cannot meet except as enemies, Mr. Marchmont," he said. "My cousin +has no doubt told you what I said of you when I discovered the lying +paragraph which you caused to be shown to my wife." + +"I only did what any one else would have done under the circumstances," +Paul Marchmont answered quietly. "I was deceived by a penny-a-liner's +false report. How should I know the effect that report would have upon +my unhappy cousin?" + +"I cannot discuss this matter with you," cried Edward Arundel, his +voice tremulous with passion; "I am almost mad when I think of it. I am +not safe; I dare not trust myself. I look upon you as the deliberate +assassin of a helpless girl; but so skilful an assassin, that nothing +less than the vengeance of God can touch you. I cry aloud to Him night +and day, in the hope that He will hear me and avenge my wife's death. I +cannot look to any earthly law for help: but I trust in God; I put my +trust in God." + +There are very few positive and consistent atheists in this world. Mr. +Paul Marchmont was a philosopher of the infidel school, a student of +Voltaire and the brotherhood of the Encyclopedia, and a believer in +those liberal days before the Reign of Terror, when Frenchmen, in +coffee-houses, discussed the Supreme under the soubriquet of Mons. +l'Etre; but he grew a little paler as Edward Arundel, with kindling +eyes and uplifted hand, declared his faith in a Divine Avenger. + +The sceptical artist may have thought, + +"What if there should be some reality in the creed so many weak fools +confide in? What if there _is_ a God who cannot abide iniquity?" + +"I came here to look for you, Olivia," Edward Arundel said presently. +"I want to ask you a question. Will you come into the wood with me?" + +"Yes, if you wish it," Mrs. Marchmont answered quietly. + +The cousins went out of the painting-room together, leaving Paul +Marchmont alone. They walked on for a few yards in silence. + +"What is the question you came here to ask me?" Olivia asked abruptly. + +"The Kemberling people have raised a report about you which I should +fancy would be scarcely agreeable to yourself," answered Edward. "You +would hardly wish to benefit by Mary's death, would you, Olivia?" + +He looked at her searchingly as he spoke. Her face was at all times so +expressive of hidden cares, of cruel mental tortures, that there was +little room in her countenance for any new emotion. Her cousin looked +in vain for any change in it now. + +"Benefit by her death!" she exclaimed. "How should I benefit by her +death?" + +"By marrying the man who inherits this estate. They say you are going +to marry Paul Marchmont." + +Olivia looked at him with an expression of surprise. + +"Do they say that of me?" she asked. "Do people say that?" + +"They do. Is it true, Olivia?" + +The widow turned upon him almost fiercely. + +"What does it matter to you whether it is true or not? What do you care +whom I marry, or what becomes of me?" + +"I care this much," Edward Arundel answered, "that I would not have +your reputation lied away by the gossips of Kemberling. I should +despise you if you married this man. But if you do not mean to marry +him, you have no right to encourage his visits; you are trifling with +your own good name. You should leave this place, and by that means give +the lie to any false reports that have arisen about you." + +"Leave this place!" cried Olivia Marchmont, with a bitter laugh. "Leave +this place! O my God, if I could; if I could go away and bury myself +somewhere at the other end of the world, and forget,--and forget!" She +said this as if to herself; as if it had been a cry of despair wrung +from her in despite of herself; then, turning to Edward Arundel, she +added, in a quieter voice, "I can never leave this place till I leave +it in my coffin. I am a prisoner here for life." + +She turned from him, and walked slowly away, with her face towards the +dying sunlight in the low western sky. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +EDWARD'S VISITORS. + + +Perhaps no greater sacrifice had ever been made by an English gentleman +than that which Edward Arundel willingly offered up as an atonement for +his broken trust, as a tribute to his lost wife. Brave, ardent, +generous, and sanguine, this young soldier saw before him a brilliant +career in the profession which he loved. He saw glory and distinction +beckoning to him from afar, and turned his back upon those shining +sirens. He gave up all, in the vague hope of, sooner or later, avenging +Mary's wrongs upon Paul Marchmont. + +He made no boast, even to himself, of that which he had done. Again and +again memory brought back to him the day upon which he breakfasted in +Oakley Street, and walked across Waterloo Bridge with the Drury Lane +supernumerary. Every word that John Marchmont had spoken; every look of +the meek and trusting eyes, the pale and thoughtful face; every +pressure of the thin hand which had grasped his in grateful affection, +in friendly confidence,--came back to Edward Arundel after an interval +of nearly ten years, and brought with it a bitter sense of +self-reproach. + +"He trusted his daughter to me," the young man thought. "Those last +words in the poor fellow's letter are always in my mind: 'The only +bequest which I can leave to the only friend I have is the legacy of a +child's helplessness.' And I have slighted his solemn warning: and I +have been false to my trust." + +In his scrupulous sense of honour, the soldier reproached himself as +bitterly for that imprudence, out of which so much evil had arisen, as +another man might have done after a wilful betrayal of his trust. He +could not forgive himself. He was for ever and ever repeating in his +own mind that one brief phase which is the universal chorus of erring +men's regret: "If I had acted differently, if I had done otherwise, +this or that would not have come to pass." We are perpetually wandering +amid the hopeless deviations of a maze, finding pitfalls and +precipices, quicksands and morasses, at every turn in the painful way; +and we look back at the end of our journey to discover a straight and +pleasant roadway by which, had we been wise enough to choose it, we +might have travelled safely and comfortably to our destination. + +But Wisdom waits for us at the goal instead of accompanying us upon our +journey. She is a divinity whom we meet very late in life; when we are +too near the end of our troublesome march to derive much profit from +her counsels. We can only retail them to our juniors, who, not getting +them from the fountain-head, have very small appreciation of their +value. + +The young captain of East Indian cavalry suffered very cruelly from the +sacrifice which he had made. Day after day, day after day, the slow, +dreary, changeless, eventless, and unbroken life dragged itself out; +and nothing happened to bring him any nearer to the purpose of this +monotonous existence; no promise of even ultimate success rewarded his +heroic self-devotion. Afar, he heard of the rush and clamour of war, of +dangers and terror, of conquest and glory. His own regiment was in the +thick of the strife, his brothers in arms were doing wonders. Every +mail brought some new record of triumph and glory. + +The soldier's heart sickened as he read the story of each new +encounter; his heart sickened with that terrible yearning,--that +yearning which seems physically palpable in its perpetual pain; the +yearning with which a child at a hard school, lying broad awake in the +long, gloomy, rush-lit bedchamber in the dead of the silent night, +remembers the soft resting-place of his mother's bosom; the yearning +with which a faithful husband far away from home sighs for the presence +of the wife he loves. Even with such a heart-sickness as this Edward +Arundel pined to be amongst the familiar faces yonder in the East,--to +hear the triumphant yell of his men as they swarmed after him through +the breach in an Affghan wall,--to see the dark heathens blanch under +the terror of Christian swords. + +He read the records of the war again and again, again and again, till +every scene arose before him,--a picture, flaming and lurid, grandly +beautiful, horribly sublime. The very words of those newspaper reports +seemed to blaze upon the paper on which they were written, so palpable +were the images which they evoked in the soldier's mind. He was frantic +in his eager impatience for the arrival of every mail, for the coming +of every new record of that Indian warfare. He was like a devourer of +romances, who reads a thrilling story link by link, and who is +impatient for every new chapter of the fiction. His dreams were of +nothing but battle and victory, danger, triumph, and death; and he +often woke in the morning exhausted by the excitement of those +visionary struggles, those phantom terrors. + +His sabre hung over the chimney-piece in his simple bedchamber. He took +it down sometimes, and drew it from the sheath. He could have almost +wept aloud over that idle sword. He raised his arm, and the weapon +vibrated with a whirring noise as he swept the glittering steel in a +wide circle through the empty air. An infidel's head should have been +swept from his vile carcass in that rapid circle of the keen-edged +blade. The soldier's arm was as strong as ever, his wrist as supple, +his muscular force unwasted by mental suffering. Thank Heaven for that! +But after that brief thanksgiving his arm dropped inertly, and the idle +sword fell out of his relaxing grasp. + +"I seem a craven to myself," he cried; "I have no right to be here--I +have no right to be here while those other fellows are fighting for +their lives out yonder. O God, have mercy upon me! My brain gets dazed +sometimes; and I begin to wonder whether I am most bound to remain here +and watch Paul Marchmont, or to go yonder and fight for my country and +my Queen." + +There were many phases in this mental fever. At one time the young man +was seized with a savage jealousy of the officer who had succeeded to +his captaincy. He watched this man's name, and every record of his +movements, and was constantly taking objection to his conduct. He was +grudgingly envious of this particular officer's triumphs, however +small. He could not feel generously towards this happy successor, in +the bitterness of his own enforced idleness. + +"What opportunities this man has!" he thought; "_I_ never had such +chances." + +It is almost impossible for me to faithfully describe the tortures +which this monotonous existence inflicted upon the impetuous young man. +It is the speciality of a soldier's career that it unfits most men for +any other life. They cannot throw off the old habitudes. They cannot +turn from the noisy stir of war to the tame quiet of every-day life; +and even when they fancy themselves wearied and worn out, and willingly +retire from service, their souls are stirred by every sound of the +distant contest, as the war-steed is aroused by the blast of a trumpet. +But Edward Arundel's career had been cut suddenly short at the very +hour in which it was brightest with the promise of future glory. It was +as if a torrent rushing madly down a mountain-side had been dammed up, +and its waters bidden to stagnate upon a level plain. The rebellious +waters boiled and foamed in a sullen fury. The soldier could not submit +himself contentedly to his fate. He might strip off his uniform, and +accept sordid coin as the price of the epaulettes he had won so dearly; +but he was at heart a soldier still. When he received the sum which had +been raised amongst his juniors as the price of his captaincy, it +seemed to him almost as if he had sold his brother's blood. + +It was summer-time now. Ten months had elapsed since his marriage with +Mary Marchmont, and no new light had been thrown upon the disappearance +of his young wife. No one could feel a moment's doubt as to her fate. +She had perished in that lonely river which flowed behind Marchmont +Towers, and far away down to the sea. + +The artist had kept his word, and had as yet taken no step towards +entering into possession of the estate which he inherited by his +cousin's death. But Mr. Paul Marchmont spent a great deal of time at +the Towers, and a great deal more time in the painting-room by the +river-side, sometimes accompanied by his sister, sometimes alone. + +The Kemberling gossips had grown by no means less talkative upon the +subject of Olivia and the new owner of Marchmont Towers. On the +contrary, the voices that discussed Mrs. Marchmont's conduct were a +great deal more numerous than heretofore; in other words, John +Marchmont's widow was "talked about." Everything is said in this +phrase. It was scarcely that people said bad things of her; it was +rather that they talked more about her than any woman can suffer to be +talked of with safety to her fair fame. They began by saying that she +was going to marry Paul Marchmont; they went on to wonder _whether_ she +was going to marry him; then they wondered _why_ she didn't marry him. +From this they changed the venue, and began to wonder whether Paul +Marchmont meant to marry her,--there was an essential difference in +this new wonderment,--and next, why Paul Marchmont didn't marry her. +And by this time Olivia's reputation was overshadowed by a terrible +cloud, which had arisen no bigger than a man's hand, in the first +conjecturings of a few ignorant villagers. + +People made it their business first to wonder about Mrs. Marchmont, and +then to set up their own theories about her; to which theories they +clung with a stupid persistence, forgetting, as people generally do +forget, that there might be some hidden clue, some secret key, to the +widow's conduct, for want of which the cleverest reasoning respecting +her was only so much groping in the dark. + +Edward Arundel heard of the cloud which shadowed his cousin's name. Her +father heard of it, and went to remonstrate with her, imploring her to +come to him at Swampington, and to leave Marchmont Towers to the new +lord of the mansion. But she only answered him with gloomy, obstinate +reiteration, and almost in the same terms as she had answered Edward +Arundel; declaring that she would stay at the Towers till her death; +that she would never leave the place till she was carried thence in her +coffin. + +Hubert Arundel, always afraid of his daughter, was more than ever +afraid of her now; and he was as powerless to contend against her +sullen determination as he would have been to float up the stream of a +rushing river. + +So Olivia was talked about. She had scared away all visitors, after the +ball at the Towers, by the strangeness of her manner and the settled +gloom in her face; and she lived unvisited and alone in the gaunt stony +mansion; and people said that Paul Marchmont was almost perpetually +with her, and that she went to meet him in the painting-room by the +river. + +Edward Arundel sickened of his wearisome life, and no one helped him to +endure his sufferings. His mother wrote to him imploring him to resign +himself to the loss of his young wife, to return to Dangerfield, to +begin a new existence, and to blot out the memory of the past. + +"You have done all that the most devoted affection could prompt you to +do," Mrs. Arundel wrote. "Come back to me, my dearest boy. I gave you +up to the service of your country because it was my duty to resign you +then. But I cannot afford to lose you now; I cannot bear to see you +sacrificing yourself to a chimera. Return to me; and let me see you +make a new and happier choice. Let me see my son the father of little +children who will gather round my knees when I grow old and feeble." + +"A new and happier choice!" Edward Arundel repeated the words with a +melancholy bitterness. "No, my poor lost girl; no, my blighted wife; I +will not be false to you. The smiles of happy women can have no +sunlight for me while I cherish the memory of the sad eyes that watched +me when I drove away from Milldale, the sweet sorrowful face that I was +never to look upon again." + +The dull empty days succeeded each other, and _did_ resemble each +other, with a wearisome similitude that well-nigh exhausted the +patience of the impetuous young man. His fiery nature chafed against +this miserable delay. It was so hard to have to wait for his vengeance. +Sometimes he could scarcely refrain from planting himself somewhere in +Paul Marchmont's way, with the idea of a hand-to-hand struggle in which +either he or his enemy must perish. + +Once he wrote the artist a desperate letter, denouncing him as an +arch-plotter and villain; calling upon him, if his evil nature was +redeemed by one spark of manliness, to fight as men had been in the +habit of fighting only a few years before, with a hundred times less +reason than these two men had for their quarrel. + +"I have called you a villain and traitor; in India we fellows would +kill each other for smaller words than those," wrote the soldier. "But +I have no wish to take any advantage of my military experience. I may +be a better shot than you. Let us have only one pistol, and draw lots +for it. Let us fire at each other across a dinner-table. Let us do +anything; so that we bring this miserable business to an end." + +Mr. Marchmont read this letter slowly and thoughtfully, more than once; +smiling as he read. + +"He's getting tired," thought the artist. "Poor young man, I thought he +would be the first to grow tired of this sort of work." + +He wrote Edward Arundel a long letter; a friendly but rather facetious +letter; such as he might have written to a child who had asked him to +jump over the moon. He ridiculed the idea of a duel, as something +utterly Quixotic and absurd. + +"I am fifteen years older than you, my dear Mr. Arundel," he wrote, +"and a great deal too old to have any inclination to fight with +windmills; or to represent the windmill which a high-spirited young +Quixote may choose to mistake for a villanous knight, and run his hot +head against in that delusion. I am not offended with you for calling +me bad names, and I take your anger merely as a kind of romantic manner +you have of showing your love for my poor cousin. We are not enemies, +and we never shall be enemies; for I will never suffer myself to be so +foolish as to get into a passion with a brave and generous-hearted +young soldier, whose only error is an unfortunate hallucination with +regard to + +"Your very humble servant, + +"PAUL MARCHMONT." + +Edward ground his teeth with savage fury as he read this letter. + +"Is there no making this man answer for his infamy?" he muttered. "Is +there no way of making him suffer?" + + * * * * * + +June was nearly over, and the year was wearing round to the anniversary +of Edward's wedding-day, the anniversaries of those bright days which +the young bride and bridegroom had loitered away by the trout-streams +in the Hampshire meadows, when some most unlooked-for visitors made +their appearance at Kemberling Retreat. + +The cottage lay back behind a pleasant garden, and was hidden from the +dusty high road by a hedge of lilacs and laburnums which grew within +the wooden fence. It was Edward's habit, in this hot summer-time, to +spend a great deal of his time in the garden; walking up and down the +neglected paths, with a cigar in his mouth; or lolling in an easy chair +on the lawn reading the papers. Perhaps the garden was almost prettier, +by reason of the long neglect which it had suffered, than it would have +been if kept in the trimmest order by the industrious hands of a +skilful gardener. Everything grew in a wild and wanton luxuriance, that +was very beautiful in this summer-time, when the earth was gorgeous +with all manner of blossoms. Trailing branches from the espaliered +apple-trees hung across the pathways, intermingled with roses that had +run wild; and made "bits" that a landscape-painter might have delighted +to copy. Even the weeds, which a gardener would have looked upon with +horror, were beautiful. The wild convolvulus flung its tendrils into +fantastic wreaths about the bushes of sweetbrier; the honeysuckle, +untutored by the pruning-knife, mixed its tall branches with seringa +and clematis; the jasmine that crept about the house had mounted to the +very chimney-pots, and strayed in through the open windows; even the +stable-roof was half hidden by hardy monthly roses that had clambered +up to the thatch. But the young soldier took very little interest in +this disorderly garden. He pined to be far away in the thick jungle, or +on the burning plain. He hated the quiet and repose of an existence +which seemed little better than the living death of a cloister. + +The sun was low in the west at the close of a long midsummer day, when +Mr. Arundel strolled up and down the neglected pathways, backwards and +forwards amid the long tangled grass of the lawn, smoking a cigar, and +brooding over his sorrows. + +He was beginning to despair. He had defied Paul Marchmont, and no good +had come of his defiance. He had watched him, and there had been no +result of his watching. Day after day he had wandered down to the +lonely pathway by the river side; again and again he had reconnoitered +the boat-house, only to hear Paul Marchmont's treble voice singing +scraps out of modern operas as he worked at his easel; or on one or two +occasions to see Mr. George Weston, the surgeon, or Lavinia his wife, +emerge from the artist's painting-room. + +Upon one of these occasions Edward Arundel had accosted the surgeon of +Kemberling, and had tried to enter into conversation with him. But Mr. +Weston had exhibited such utterly hopeless stupidity, mingled with a +very evident terror of his brother-in-law's foe, that Edward had been +fain to abandon all hope of any assistance from this quarter. + +"I'm sure I'm very sorry for you, Mr. Arundel," the surgeon said, +looking, not at Edward, but about and around him, in a hopeless, +wandering manner, like some hunted animal that looks far and near for a +means of escape from his pursuer,--"I'm very sorry for you--and for all +your trouble--and I was when I attended you at the Black Bull--and you +were the first patient I ever had there--and it led to my having many +more--as I may say--though that's neither here nor there. And I'm very +sorry for you, and for the poor young woman too--particularly for the +poor young woman--and I always tell Paul so--and--and Paul--" + +And at this juncture Mr. Weston stopped abruptly, as if appalled by the +hopeless entanglement of his own ideas, and with a brief "Good evening, +Mr. Arundel," shot off in the direction of the Towers, leaving Edward +at a loss to understand his manner. + +So, on this midsummer evening, the soldier walked up and down the +neglected grass-plat, thinking of the men who had been his comrades, +and of the career which he had abandoned for the love of his lost wife. + +He was aroused from his gloomy reverie by the sound of a fresh girlish +voice calling to him by his name. + +"Edward! Edward!" + +Who could there be in Lincolnshire with the right to call to him thus +by his Christian name? He was not long left in doubt. While he was +asking himself the question, the same feminine voice cried out again. + +"Edward! Edward! Will you come and open the gate for me, please? Or do +you mean to keep me out here for ever?" + +This time Mr. Arundel had no difficulty in recognising the familiar +tones of his sister Letitia, whom he had believed, until that moment, +to be safe under the maternal wing at Dangerfield. And lo, here she +was, on horseback at his own gate; with a cavalier hat and feathers +overshadowing her girlish face; and with another young Amazon on a +thorough-bred chestnut, and an elderly groom on a thorough-bred bay, in +the background. + +Edward Arundel, utterly confounded by the advent of such visitors, +flung away his cigar, and went to the low wooden gate beyond which his +sister's steed was pawing the dusty road, impatient of this stupid +delay, and eager to be cantering stablewards through the scented summer +air. + +"Why, Letitia!" cried the young man, "what, in mercy's name, has +brought you here?" + +Miss Arundel laughed aloud at her brother's look of surprise. + +"You didn't know I was in Lincolnshire, did you?" she asked; and then +answered her own question in the same breath: "Of course you didn't, +because I wouldn't let mamma tell you I was coming; for I wanted to +surprise you, you know. And I think I have surprised you, haven't I? I +never saw such a scared-looking creature in all my life. If I were a +ghost coming here in the gloaming, you couldn't look more frightened +than you did just now. I only came the day before yesterday--and I'm +staying at Major Lawford's, twelve miles away from here--and this is +Miss Lawford, who was at school with me at Bath. You've heard me talk +of Belinda Lawford, my dearest, dearest friend? Miss Lawford, my +brother; my brother, Miss Lawford. Are you going to open the gate and +let us in, or do you mean to keep your citadel closed upon us +altogether, Mr. Edward Arundel?" + +At this juncture the young lady in the background drew a little nearer +to her friend, and murmured a remonstrance to the effect that it was +very late, and that they were expected home before dark; but Miss +Arundel refused to hear the voice of wisdom. + +"Why, we've only an hour's ride back," she cried; "and if it should be +dark, which I don't think it will be, for it's scarcely dark all night +through at this time of year, we've got Hoskins with us, and Hoskins +will take care of us. Won't you, Hoskins?" demanded the young lady, +turning to the elderly groom. + +Of course Hoskins declared that he was ready to achieve all that man +could do or dare in the defence of his liege ladies, or something +pretty nearly to that effect; but delivered in a vile Lincolnshire +patois, not easily rendered in printer's ink. + +Miss Arundel waited for no further discussion, but gave her hand to her +brother, and vaulted lightly from her saddle. + +Then, of course, Edward Arundel offered his services to his sister's +companion, and then for the first time he looked in Belinda Lawford's +face, and even in that one first glance saw that she was a good and +beautiful creature, and that her hair, of which she had a great +quantity, was of the colour of her horse's chestnut coat; that her eyes +were the bluest he had ever seen, and that her cheeks were like the +neglected roses in his garden. He held out his hand to her. She took it +with a frank smile, and dismounted, and came in amongst the grass-grown +pathways, amid the confusion of trailing branches and bright +garden-flowers growing wild. + + * * * * * + +In that moment began the second volume of Edward Arundel's life. The +first volume had begun upon the Christmas night on which the boy of +seventeen went to see the pantomime at Drury Lane Theatre. The old +story had been a long, sad story, fall of tenderness and pathos, but +with a cruel and dismal ending. The new story began to-night, in this +fading western sunshine, in this atmosphere of balmy perfume, amidst +these dew-laden garden-flowers growing wild. + + * * * * * + +But, as I think I observed before at the outset of this story, we are +rarely ourselves aware of the commencement of any new section in our +lives. It is only after the fact that we recognise the awful importance +which actions, in themselves most trivial, assume by reason of their +consequences; and when the action, in itself so unimportant, in its +consequences so fatal, has been in any way a deviation from the right, +how bitterly we reproach ourselves for that false step! + +"I am so _glad_ to see you, Edward!" Miss Arundel exclaimed, as she +looked about her, criticising her brother's domain; "but you don't seem +a bit glad to see me, you poor gloomy old dear. And how much better you +look than you did when you left Dangerfield! only a little careworn, +you know, still. And to think of your coming and burying yourself here, +away from all the people who love you, you silly old darling! And +Belinda knows the story, and she's so sorry for you. Ain't you, Linda? +I call her Linda for short, and because it's prettier than _Be_-linda," +added the young lady aside to her brother, and with a contemptuous +emphasis upon the first syllable of her friend's name. + +Miss Lawford, thus abruptly appealed to, blushed, and said nothing. + +If Edward Arundel had been told that any other young lady was +acquainted with the sad story of his married life, I think he would +have been inclined to revolt against the very idea of her pity. But +although he had only looked once at Belinda Lawford, that one look +seemed to have told him a great deal. He felt instinctively that she +was as good as she was beautiful, and that her pity must be a most +genuine and tender emotion, not to be despised by the proudest man upon +earth. + +The two ladies seated themselves upon a dilapidated rustic bench amid +the long grass, and Mr. Arundel sat in the low basket-chair in which he +was wont to lounge a great deal of his time away. + +"Why don't you have a gardener, Ned?" Letitia Arundel asked, after +looking rather contemptuously at the flowery luxuriance around her. + +Her brother shrugged his shoulders with a despondent gesture. + +"Why should I take any care of the place?" he said. "I only took it +because it was near the spot where--where my poor girl--where I wanted +to be. I have no object in beautifying it. I wish to Heaven I could +leave it, and go back to India." + +He turned his face eastward as he spoke, and the two girls saw that +half-eager, half-despairing yearning that was always visible in his +face when he looked to the east. It was over yonder, the scene of +strife, the red field of glory, only separated from him by a patch of +purple ocean and a strip of yellow sand. It was yonder. He could almost +feel the hot blast of the burning air. He could almost hear the shouts +of victory. And he was a prisoner here, bound by a sacred duty,--by a +duty which he owed to the dead. + +"Major Lawford--Major Lawford is Belinda's papa; 33rd Foot--Major +Lawford knew that we were coming here, and he begged me to ask you to +dinner; but I said you wouldn't come, for I knew you had shut yourself +out of all society--though the Major's the dearest creature, and the +Grange is a most delightful place to stay at. I was down here in the +midsummer holidays once, you know, while you were in India. But I give +the message as the Major gave it to me; and you are to come to dinner +whenever you like." + +Edward Arundel murmured a few polite words of refusal. No; he saw no +society; he was in Lincolnshire to achieve a certain object; he should +remain there no longer than was necessary in order for him to do so. + +"And you don't even say that you're glad to see me!" exclaimed Miss +Arundel, with an offended air, "though it's six months since you were +last at Dangerfield! Upon my word, you're a nice brother for an +unfortunate girl to waste her affections upon!" + +Edward smiled faintly at his sister's complaint. + +"I am very glad to see you, Letitia," he said; "very, very glad." + +And indeed the young hermit could not but confess to himself that those +two innocent young faces seemed to bring light and brightness with +them, and to shed a certain transitory glimmer of sunshine upon the +horrible gloom of his life. Mr. Morrison had come out to offer his duty +to the young lady--whom he had been intimate with from a very early +period of her existence, and had carried upon his shoulder some fifteen +years before--under the pretence of bringing wine for the visitors; and +the stable-lad had been sent to a distant corner of the garden to +search for strawberries for their refreshment. Even the solitary +maid-servant had crept into the parlour fronting the lawn, and had +shrouded herself behind the window-curtains, whence she could peep out +at the two Amazons, and gladden her eyes with the sight of something +that was happy and beautiful. + +But the young ladies would not stop to drink any wine, though Mr. +Morrison informed Letitia that the sherry was from the Dangerfield +cellar, and had been sent to Master Edward by his ma; nor to eat any +strawberries, though the stable-boy, who made the air odorous with the +scent of hay and oats, brought a little heap of freshly-gathered fruit +piled upon a cabbage-leaf, and surmounted by a rampant caterpillar of +the woolly species. They could not stay any longer, they both declared, +lest there should be terror at Lawford Grange because of their absence. +So they went back to the gate, escorted by Edward and his confidential +servant; and after Letitia had given her brother a kiss, which +resounded almost like the report of a pistol through the still evening +air, the two ladies mounted their horses, and cantered away in the +twilight. + +"I shall come and see you again, Ned," Miss Arundel cried, as she shook +the reins upon her horse's neck; "and so will Belinda--won't you, +Belinda?" + +Miss Lawford's reply, if she spoke at all, was quite inaudible amidst +the clattering of the horses' hoofs upon the hard highroad. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +ONE MORE SACRIFICE. + + +Letitia Arundel kept her word, and came very often to Kemberling +Retreat; sometimes on horseback, sometimes in a little pony-carriage; +sometimes accompanied by Belinda Lawford, sometimes accompanied by a +younger sister of Belinda's, as chestnut-haired and blue-eyed as +Belinda herself, but at the school-room and bread-and-butter period of +life, and not particularly interesting. Major Lawford came one day with +his daughter and her friend, and Edward and the half-pay officer walked +together up and down the grass-plat, smoking and talking of the Indian +war, while the two girls roamed about the garden amidst the roses and +butterflies, tearing the skirts of their riding-habits every now and +then amongst the briers and gooseberry-bushes. It was scarcely strange +after this visit that Edward Arundel should consent to accept Major +Lawford's invitation to name a day for dining at the Grange; he could +not, with a very good grace, have refused. And yet--and yet--it seemed +to him almost a treason against his lost love, his poor pensive +Mary,--whose face, with the very look it had worn upon that last day, +was ever present with him,--to mix with happy people who had never +known sorrow. But he went to the Grange nevertheless, and grew more and +more friendly with the Major, and walked in the gardens--which were +very large and old-fashioned, but most beautifully kept--with his +sister and Belinda Lawford; with Belinda Lawford, who knew his story +and was sorry for him. He always remembered _that_ as he looked at her +bright face, whose varying expression gave perpetual evidence of a +compassionate and sympathetic nature. + +"If my poor darling had had this girl for a friend," he thought +sometimes, "how much happier she might have been!" + +I dare say there have been many lovelier women in this world than +Belinda Lawford; many women whose faces, considered artistically, came +nearer perfection; many noses more exquisitely chiselled, and scores of +mouths bearing a closer affinity to Cupid's bow; but I doubt if any +face was ever more pleasant to look upon than the face of this blooming +English maiden. She had a beauty that is sometimes wanting in perfect +faces, and, lacking which, the most splendid loveliness will pall at +last upon eyes that have grown weary of admiring; she had a charm for +want of which the most rigidly classical profiles, the most exquisitely +statuesque faces, have seemed colder and harder than the marble it was +their highest merit to resemble. She had the beauty of goodness, and to +admire her was to do homage to the purest and brightest attributes of +womanhood. It was not only that her pretty little nose was straight and +well-shaped, that her lips were rosy red, that her eyes were bluer than +the summer heavens, and her chestnut hair tinged with the golden light +of a setting sun; above and beyond such commonplace beauties as these, +the beauties of tenderness, truth, faith, earnestness, hope and +charity, were enthroned upon her broad white brow, and crowned her +queen by right divine of womanly perfection. A loving and devoted +daughter, an affectionate sister, a true and faithful friend, an +untiring benefactress to the poor, a gentle mistress, a well-bred +Christian lady; in every duty and in every position she bore out and +sustained the impression which her beauty made on the minds of those +who looked upon her. She was only nineteen years of age, and no sorrow +had ever altered the brightness of her nature. She lived a happy life +with a father who was proud of her, and with a mother who resembled her +in almost every attribute. She led a happy but a busy life, and did her +duty to the poor about her as scrupulously as even Olivia had done in +the old days at Swampington Rectory; but in such a genial and cheerful +spirit as to win, not cold thankfulness, but heartfelt love and +devotion from all who partook of her benefits. + +Upon the Egyptian darkness of Edward Arundel's life this girl arose as +a star, and by-and-by all the horizon brightened under her influence. +The soldier had been very little in the society of women. His mother, +his sister Letitia, his cousin Olivia, and John Marchmont's gentle +daughter were the only women whom he had ever known in the familiar +freedom of domestic intercourse; and he trusted himself in the presence +of this beautiful and noble-minded girl in utter ignorance of any +danger to his own peace of mind. He suffered himself to be happy at +Lawford Grange; and in those quiet hours which he spent there he put +away his old life, and forgot the stern purpose that alone held him a +prisoner in England. + +But when he went back to his lonely dwelling-place, he reproached +himself bitterly for that which he considered a treason against his +love. + +"What right have I to be happy amongst these people?" he thought; "what +right have I to take life easily, even for an hour, while my darling +lies in her unhallowed grave, and the man who drove her to her death +remains unpunished? I will never go to Lawford Grange again." + +It seemed, however, as if everybody, except Belinda, was in a plot +against this idle soldier; for sometimes Letitia coaxed him to ride +back with her after one of her visits to Kemberling Retreat, and very +often the Major himself insisted, in a hearty military fashion, upon +the young man's taking the empty seat in his dog-cart, to be driven +over to the Grange. Edward Arundel had never once mentioned Mary's name +to any member of this hospitable and friendly family. They were very +good to him, and were prepared, he knew, to sympathise with him; but he +could not bring himself to talk of his lost wife. The thought of that +rash and desperate act which had ended her short life was too cruel to +him. He would not speak of her, because he would have had to plead +excuses for that one guilty act; and her image to him was so stainless +and pure, that he could not bear to plead for her as for a sinner who +had need of men's pity, rather than a claim to their reverence. + +"Her life had been so sinless," he cried sometimes; "and to think that +it should have ended in sin! If I could forgive Paul Marchmont for all +the rest--if I could forgive him for my loss of her, I would never +forgive him for that." + +The young widower kept silence, therefore, upon the subject which +occupied so large a share of his thoughts, which was every day and +every night the theme of his most earnest prayers; and Mary's name was +never spoken in his presence at Lawford Grange. + +But in Edward Arundel's absence the two girls sometimes talked of the +sad story. + +"Do you really think, Letitia, that your brother's wife committed +suicide?" Belinda asked her friend. + +"Oh, as for that, there can't be any doubt about it, dear," answered +Miss Arundel, who was of a lively, not to say a flippant, disposition, +and had no very great reverence for solemn things; "the poor dear +creature drowned herself. I think she must have been a little wrong in +her head. I don't say so to Edward, you know; at least, I did say so +once when he was at Dangerfield, and he flew into an awful passion, and +called me hard-hearted and cruel, and all sorts of shocking things; so, +of course, I have never said so since. But really, the poor dear +thing's goings-on were so eccentric: first she ran away from her +stepmother and went and hid herself in a horrid lodging; and then she +married Edward at a nasty church in Lambeth, without so much as a +wedding-dress, or a creature to give her away, or a cake, or cards, or +anything Christian-like; and then she ran away again; and as her father +had been a super--what's its name?--a man who carries banners in +pantomimes, and all that--I dare say she'd seen Mr. Macready as Hamlet, +and had Ophelia's death in her head when she ran down to the river-side +and drowned herself. I'm sure it's a very sad story; and, of course, +I'm awfully sorry for Edward." + +The young lady said no more than this; but Belinda brooded over the +story of that early marriage,--the stolen honeymoon, the sudden +parting. How dearly they must have loved each other, the young bride +and bridegroom, absorbed in their own happiness, and forgetful of all +the outer world! She pictured Edward Arundel's face as it must have +been before care and sorrow had blotted out the brightest attribute of +his beauty. She thought of him, and pitied him, with such tender +sympathy, that by-and-by the thought of this young man's sorrow seemed +to shut almost every idea out of her mind. She went about all her +duties still, cheerfully and pleasantly, as it was her nature to do +everything; but the zest with which she had performed every loving +office--every act of sweet benevolence, seemed lost to her now. + +Remember that she was a simple country damsel, leading a quiet life, +whose peaceful course was almost as calm and eventless as the existence +of a cloister; a life so quiet that a decently-written romance from the +Swampington book-club was a thing to be looked forward to with +impatience, to read with breathless excitement, and to brood upon +afterwards for months. Was it strange, then, that this romance in real +life--this sweet story of love and devotion, with its sad climax,--this +story, the scene of which lay within a few miles of her home, the hero +of which was her father's constant guest,--was it strange that this +story, whose saddest charm was its truth, should make a strong +impression upon the mind of an innocent and unworldly woman, and that +day by day and hour by hour she should, all unconsciously to herself, +feel a stronger interest in the hero of the tale? + +She was interested in him. Alas! the truth must be set down, even if it +has to be in the plain old commonplace words. _She fell in love with +him_. But love in this innocent and womanly nature was so different a +sentiment to that which had raged in Olivia's stormy breast, that even +she who felt it was unconscious of its gradual birth. It was not "an +Adam at its birth," by-the-by. It did not leap, Minerva-like, from the +brain; for I believe that love is born of the brain oftener than of the +heart, being a strange compound of ideality, benevolence, and +veneration. It came rather like the gradual dawning of a summer's +day,--first a little patch of light far away in the east, very faint +and feeble; then a slow widening of the rosy brightness; and at last a +great blaze of splendour over all the width of the vast heavens. And +then Miss Lawford grew more reserved in her intercourse with her +friend's brother. Her frank good-nature gave place to a timid, +shrinking bashfulness, that made her ten times more fascinating than +she had been before. She was so very young, and had mixed so little +with the world, that she had yet to learn the comedy of life. She had +yet to learn to smile when she was sorry, or to look sorrowful when she +was pleased, as prudence might dictate--to blush at will, or to grow +pale when it was politic to sport the lily tint. She was a natural, +artless, spontaneous creature; and she was utterly powerless to conceal +her emotions, or to pretend a sentiment she did not feel. She blushed +rosy red when Edward Arundel spoke to her suddenly. She betrayed +herself by a hundred signs; mutely confessing her love almost as +artlessly as Mary had revealed her affection a twelvemonth before. But +if Edward saw this, he gave no sign of having made the discovery. His +voice, perhaps, grew a little lower and softer in its tone when he +spoke to Belinda; but there was a sad cadence in that low voice, which +was too mournful for the accent of a lover. Sometimes, when his eyes +rested for a moment on the girl's blushing face, a shadow would darken +his own, and a faint quiver of emotion stir his lower lip; but it is +impossible to say what this emotion may have been. Belinda hoped +nothing, expected nothing. I repeat, that she was unconscious of the +nature of her own feeling; and she had never for a moment thought of +Edward otherwise than as a man who would go to his grave faithful to +that sad love-story which had blighted the promise of his youth. She +never thought of him otherwise than as Mary's constant mourner; she +never hoped that time would alter his feelings or wear out his +constancy; yet she loved him, notwithstanding. + +All through July and August the young man visited at the Grange, and at +the beginning of September Letitia Arundel went back to Dangerfield. +But even then Edward was still a frequent guest at Major Lawford's; for +his enthusiasm upon all military matters had made him a favourite with +the old officer. But towards the end of September Mr. Arundel's visits +suddenly were restricted to an occasional call upon the Major; he left +off dining at the Grange; his evening rambles in the gardens with Mrs. +Lawford and her blooming daughters--Belinda had no less than four +blue-eyed sisters, all more or less resembling herself--ceased +altogether, to the wonderment of every one in the old-fashioned +country-house. + +Edward Arundel shut out the new light which had dawned upon his life, +and withdrew into the darkness. He went back to the stagnant monotony, +the hopeless despondency, the bitter regret of his old existence. + +"While my sister was at the Grange, I had an excuse for going there," +he said to himself sternly. "I have no excuse now." + +But the old monotonous life was somehow or other a great deal more +difficult to bear than it had been before. Nothing seemed to interest +the young man now. Even the records of Indian victories were "flat, +stale, and unprofitable." He wondered as he remembered with what eager +impatience he had once pined for the coming of the newspapers, with +what frantic haste he had devoured every syllable of the Indian news. +All his old feelings seemed to have gone away, leaving nothing in his +mind but a blank waste, a weary sickness of life and all belonging to +it. Leaving nothing else--positively nothing? "No!" he answered, in +reply to these mute questionings of his own spirit,--"no," he repeated +doggedly, "nothing." + +It was strange to find what a blank was left in his life by reason of +his abandonment of the Grange. It seemed as if he had suddenly retired +from an existence full of pleasure and delight into the gloomy solitude +of La Trappe. And yet what was it that he had lost, after all? A quiet +dinner at a country-house, and an evening spent half in the leafy +silence of an old-fashioned garden, half in a pleasant drawing-room +amongst a group of well-bred girls, and only enlivened by simple +English ballads, or pensive melodies by Mendelssohn. It was not much to +forego, surely. And yet Edward Arundel felt, in sacrificing these new +acquaintances at the Grange to the stern purpose of his life, almost as +if he had resigned a second captaincy for Mary's sake. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +THE CHILD'S VOICE IN THE PAVILION BY THE WATER. + + +The year wore slowly on. Letitia Arundel wrote very long letters to her +friend and confidante, Belinda Lawford, and in each letter demanded +particular intelligence of her brother's doings. Had he been to the +Grange? how had he looked? what had he talked about? &c., &c. But to +these questions Miss Lawford could only return one monotonous reply: +Mr. Arundel had not been to the Grange; or Mr. Arundel had called on +papa one morning, but had only stayed a quarter of an hour, and had not +been seen by any female member of the family. + +The year wore slowly on. Edward endured his self-appointed solitude, +and waited, waited, with a vengeful hatred for ever brooding in his +breast, for the day of retribution. The year wore on, and the +anniversary of the day upon which Mary ran away from the Towers, the +17th of October, came at last. + +Paul Marchmont had declared his intention of taking possession of the +Towers upon the day following this. The twelvemonth's probation which +he had imposed upon himself had expired; every voice was loud in praise +of his conscientious and honourable conduct. He had grown very popular +during his residence at Kemberling. Tenant farmers looked forward to +halcyon days under his dominion; to leases renewed on favourable terms; +to repairs liberally executed; to everything that is delightful between +landlord and tenant. Edward Arundel heard all this through his faithful +servitor, Mr. Morrison, and chafed bitterly at the news. This traitor +was to be happy and prosperous, and to have the good word of honest +men; while Mary lay in her unhallowed grave, and people shrugged their +shoulders, half compassionately, half contemptuously, as they spoke of +the mad heiress who had committed suicide. + +Mr. Morrison brought his master tidings of all Paul Marchmont's doings +about this time. He was to take possession of the Towers on the 19th. +He had already made several alterations in the arrangement of the +different rooms. He had ordered new furniture from +Swampington,--another man would have ordered it from London; but Mr. +Marchmont was bent upon being popular, and did not despise even the +good opinion of a local tradesman,--and by several other acts, +insignificant enough in themselves, had asserted his ownership of the +mansion which had been the airy castle of Mary Marchmont's day-dreams +ten years before. + +The coming-in of the new master of Marchmont Towers was to be, take it +altogether, a very grand affair. The Chorley-Castle foxhounds were to +meet at eleven o'clock, upon the great grass-flat, or lawn, as it was +popularly called, before the western front. The county gentry from far +and near had been invited to a hunting breakfast. Open house was to be +kept all day for rich and poor. Every male inhabitant of the district +who could muster anything in the way of a mount was likely to join the +friendly gathering. Poor Reynard is decidedly England's most powerful +leveller. All differences of rank and station, all distinctions which +Mammon raises in every other quarter, melt away before the friendly +contact of the hunting-field. The man who rides best is the best man; +and the young butcher who makes light of sunk fences, and skims, +bird-like, over bullfinches and timber, may hold his own with the dandy +heir to half the country-side. The cook at Marchmont Towers had enough +to do to prepare for this great day. It was the first meet of the +season, and in itself a solemn festival. Paul Marchmont knew this; and +though the Cockney artist of Fitzroy Square knew about as much of +fox-hunting as he did of the source of the Nile, he seized upon the +opportunity of making himself popular, and determined to give such a +hunting-breakfast as had never been given within the walls of Marchmont +Towers since the time of a certain rackety Hugh Marchmont, who had +drunk himself to death early in the reign of George III. He spent the +morning of the 17th in the steward's room, looking through the +cellar-book with the old butler, selecting the wines that were to be +drunk the following day, and planning the arrangements for the mass of +visitors, who were to be entertained in the great stone entrance-hall, +in the kitchens, in the housekeeper's room, in the servants' hall, in +almost every chamber that afforded accommodation for a guest. + +"You will take care that people get placed according to their rank," +Paul said to the grey-haired servant. "You know everybody about here, I +dare say, and will be able to manage so that we may give no offence." + +The gentry were to breakfast in the long dining-room and in the western +drawing-room. Sparkling hocks and Burgundies, fragrant Moselles, +champagnes of choicest brand and rarest bouquet, were to flow like +water for the benefit of the country gentlemen who should come to do +honour to Paul Marchmont's installation. Great cases of comestibles had +been sent by rail from Fortnum and Mason's; and the science of the cook +at the Towers had been taxed to the utmost, in the struggles which she +made to prove herself equal to the occasion. Twenty-one casks of ale, +every cask containing twenty-one gallons, had been brewed long ago, at +the birth of Arthur Marchmont, and had been laid in the cellar ever +since, waiting for the majority of the young heir who was never to come +of age. This very ale, with a certain sense of triumph, Paul Marchmont +ordered to be brought forth for the refreshment of the commoners. + +"Poor young Arthur!" he thought, after he had given this order. "I saw +him once when he was a pretty boy with fair ringlets, dressed in a suit +of black velvet. His father brought him to my studio one day, when he +came to patronise me and buy a picture of me,--out of sheer charity, of +course, for he cared as much for pictures as I care for foxhounds. _I_ +was a poor relation then, and never thought to see the inside of +Marchmont Towers. It was a lucky September morning that swept that +bright-faced boy out of my pathway, and left only sickly John Marchmont +and his daughter between me and fortune." + +Yes; Mr. Paul Marchmont's year of probation was past. He had asserted +himself to Messrs. Paulette, Paulette, and Mathewson, and before the +face of all Lincolnshire, in the character of an honourable and +high-minded man; slow to seize upon the fortune that had fallen to him, +conscientious, punctilious, generous, and unselfish. He had done all +this; and now the trial was over, and the day of triumph had come. + +There has been a race of villains of late years very popular with the +novel-writer and the dramatist, but not, I think, quite indigenous to +this honest British soil; a race of pale-faced, dark-eyed, and +all-accomplished scoundrels, whose chiefest attribute is +imperturbability. The imperturbable villain has been guilty of every +iniquity in the black catalogue of crimes; but he has never been guilty +of an emotion. He wins a million of money at _trente et quarante_, to +the terror and astonishment of all Homburg; and by not so much as one +twinkle of his eye or one quiver of his lip does that imperturbable +creature betray a sentiment of satisfaction. Ruin or glory, shame or +triumph, defeat, disgrace, or death,--all are alike to the callous +ruffian of the Anglo-Gallic novel. He smiles, and murders while he +smiles, and smiles while he murders. He kills his adversary, unfairly, +in a duel, and wipes his sword on a cambric handkerchief; and withal he +is so elegant, so fascinating, and so handsome, that the young hero of +the novel has a very poor chance against him; and the reader can +scarcely help being sorry when retribution comes with the last chapter, +and some crushing catastrophe annihilates the well-bred scoundrel. + +Paul Marchmont was not this sort of man. He was a hypocrite when it was +essential to his own safety to practice hypocrisy; but he did not +accept life as a drama, in which he was for ever to be acting a part. +Life would scarcely be worth the having to any man upon such terms. It +is all very well to wear heavy plate armour, and a casque that weighs +fourteen pounds or so, when we go into the thick of the fight. But to +wear the armour always, to live in it, to sleep in it, to carry the +ponderous protection about us for ever and ever! Safety would be too +dear if purchased by such a sacrifice of all personal ease. Paul +Marchmont, therefore, being a selfish and self-indulgent man, only wore +his armour of hypocrisy occasionally, and when it was vitally necessary +for his preservation. He had imposed upon himself a penance, and acted +a part in holding back for a year from the enjoyment of a splendid +fortune; and he had made this one great sacrifice in order to give the +lie to Edward Arundel's vague accusations, which might have had an +awkward effect upon the minds of other people, had the artist grasped +too eagerly at his missing cousin's wealth. Paul Marchmont had made +this sacrifice; but he did not intend to act a part all his life. He +meant to enjoy himself, and to get the fullest possible benefit out of +his good fortune. He meant to do this; and upon the 17th of October he +made no effort to restrain his spirits, but laughed and talked joyously +with whoever came in his way, winning golden opinions from all sorts of +men; for happiness is contagious, and everybody likes happy people. + +Forty years of poverty is a long apprenticeship to the very hardest of +masters,--an apprenticeship calculated to give the keenest possible +zest to newly-acquired wealth. Paul Marchmont rejoiced in his wealth +with an almost delirious sense of delight. It was his at last. At last! +He had waited, and waited patiently; and at last, while his powers of +enjoyment were still in their zenith, it had come. How often he had +dreamed of this; how often he had dreamed of that which was to take +place to-morrow! How often in his dreams he had seen the stone-built +mansion, and heard the voices of the crowd doing him honour. He had +felt all the pride and delight of possession, to awake suddenly in the +midst of his triumph, and gnash his teeth at the remembrance of his +poverty. And now the poverty was a thing to be dreamt about, and the +wealth was his. He had always been a good son and a kind brother; and +his mother and sister were to arrive upon the eve of his installation, +and were to witness his triumph. The rooms that had been altered were +those chosen by Paul for his mother and maiden sister, and the new +furniture had been ordered for their comfort. It was one of his many +pleasures upon this day to inspect these apartments, to see that all +his directions had been faithfully carried out, and to speculate upon +the effect which these spacious and luxurious chambers would have upon +the minds of Mrs. Marchmont and her daughter, newly come from shabby +lodgings in Charlotte Street. + +"My poor mother!" thought the artist, as he looked round the pretty +sitting-room. This sitting-room opened into a noble bedchamber, beyond +which there was a dressing-room. "My poor mother!" he thought; "she has +suffered a long time, and she has been patient. She has never ceased to +believe in me; and she will see now that there was some reason for that +belief. I told her long ago, when our fortunes were at the lowest ebb, +when I was painting landscapes for the furniture-brokers at a pound +a-piece,--I told her I was meant for something better than a +tradesman's hack; and I have proved it--I have proved it." + +He walked about the room, arranging the furniture with his own hands; +walking a few paces backwards now and then to contemplate such and such +an effect from an artistic point of view; flinging the rich stuff of +the curtains into graceful folds; admiring and examining everything, +always with a smile on his face. He seemed thoroughly happy. If he had +done any wrong; if by any act of treachery he had hastened Mary +Arundel's death, no recollection of that foul work arose in his breast +to disturb the pleasant current of his thoughts. Selfish and +self-indulgent, only attached to those who were necessary to his own +happiness, his thoughts rarely wandered beyond the narrow circle of his +own cares or his own pleasures. He was thoroughly selfish. He could +have sat at a Lord Mayor's feast with a famine-stricken population +clamouring at the door of the banquet-chamber. He believed in himself +as his mother and sister had believed; and he considered that he had a +right to be happy and prosperous, whosoever suffered sorrow or +adversity. + +Upon this 17th of October Olivia Marchmont sat in the little study +looking out upon the quadrangle, while the household was busied with +the preparations for the festival of the following day. She was to +remain at Marchmont Towers as a guest of the new master of the mansion. +She would be protected from all scandal, Paul had said, by the presence +of his mother and sister. She could retain the apartments she had been +accustomed to occupy; she could pursue her old mode of life. He himself +was not likely to be very much at the Towers. He was going to travel +and to enjoy life now that he was a rich man. + +These were the arguments which Mr. Marchmont used when openly +discussing the widow's residence in his house. But in a private +conversation between Olivia and himself he had only said a very few +words upon the subject. + +"You _must_ remain," he said; and Olivia submitted, obeying him with a +sullen indifference that was almost like the mechanical submission of +an irresponsible being. + +John Marchmont's widow seemed entirely under the dominion of the new +master of the Towers. It was as if the stormy passions which had arisen +out of a slighted love had worn out this woman's mind, and had left her +helpless to stand against the force of Paul Marchmont's keen and +vigorous intellect. A remarkable change had come over Olivia's +character. A dull apathy had succeeded that fiery energy of soul which +had enfeebled and well-nigh worn out her body. There were no outbursts +of passion now. She bore the miserable monotony of her life +uncomplainingly. Day after day, week after week, month after month, +idle and apathetic, she sat in her lonely room, or wandered slowly in +the grounds about the Towers. She very rarely went beyond those +grounds. She was seldom seen now in her old pew at Kemberling Church; +and when her father went to her and remonstrated with her for her +non-attendance, she told him sullenly that she was too ill to go. She +_was_ ill. George Weston attended her constantly; but he found it very +difficult to administer to such a sickness as hers, and he could only +shake his head despondently when he felt her feeble pulse, or listened +to the slow beating of her heart. Sometimes she would shut herself up +in her room for a month at a time, and see no one but her faithful +servant Barbara, and Mr. Weston--whom, in her utter indifference, she +seemed to regard as a kind of domestic animal, whose going or coming +were alike unimportant. + +This stolid, silent Barbara waited upon her mistress with untiring +patience. She bore with every change of Olivia's gloomy temper; she was +a perpetual shield and protection to her. Even upon this day of +preparation and disorder Mrs. Simmons kept guard over the passage +leading to the study, and took care that no one intruded upon her +mistress. At about four o'clock all Paul Marchmont's orders had been +given, and the new master of the house dined for the first time by +himself at the head of the long carved-oak dining-table, waited upon in +solemn state by the old butler. His mother and sister were to arrive by +a train that would reach Swampington at ten o'clock, and one of the +carriages from the Towers was to meet them at the station. The artist +had leisure in the meantime for any other business he might have to +transact. + +He ate his dinner slowly, thinking deeply all the time. He did not stop +to drink any wine after dinner; but, as soon as the cloth was removed, +rose from the table, and went straight to Olivia's room. + +"I am going down to the painting-room," he said. "Will you come there +presently? I want very much to say a few words to you." + +Olivia was sitting near the window, with her hands lying idle in her +lap. She rarely opened a book now, rarely wrote a letter, or occupied +herself in any manner. She scarcely raised her eyes as she answered +him. + +"Yes," she said; "I will come." + +"Don't be long, then. It will be dark very soon. I am not going down +there to paint; I am going to fetch a landscape that I want to hang in +my mother's room, and to say a few words about--" + +He closed the door without stopping to finish the sentence, and went +out into the quadrangle. + +Ten minutes afterwards Olivia Marchmont rose, and taking a heavy +woollen shawl from a chair near her, wrapped it loosely about her head +and shoulders. + +"I am his slave and his prisoner," she muttered to herself. "I must do +as he bids me." + +A cold wind was blowing in the quadrangle, and the stone pavement was +wet with a drizzling rain. The sun had just gone down, and the dull +autumn sky was darkening. The fallen leaves in the wood were sodden +with damp, and rotted slowly on the swampy ground. + +Olivia took her way mechanically along the narrow pathway leading to +the river. Half-way between Marchmont Towers and the boat-house she +came suddenly upon the figure of a man walking towards her through the +dusk. This man was Edward Arundel. + +The two cousins had not met since the March evening upon which Edward +had gone to seek the widow in Paul Marchmont's painting-room. Olivia's +pale face grew whiter as she recognised the soldier. + +"I was coming to the house to speak to you, Mrs. Marchmont," Edward +said sternly. "I am lucky in meeting you here, for I don't want any one +to overhear what I've got to say." + +He had turned in the direction in which Olivia had been walking; but +she made a dead stop, and stood looking at him. + +"You were going to the boat-house," he said. "I will go there with +you." + +She looked at him for a moment, as if doubtful what to do, and then +said, + +"Very well. You can say what you have to say to me, and then leave me. +There is no sympathy between us, there is no regard between us; we are +only antagonists." + +"I hope not, Olivia. I hope there is some spark of regard still, in +spite of all. I separate you in my own mind from Paul Marchmont. I pity +you; for I believe you to be his tool." + +"Is this what you have to say to me?" + +"No; I came here, as your kinsman, to ask you what you mean to do now +that Paul Marchmont has taken possession of the Towers?" + +"I mean to stay there." + +"In spite of the gossip that your remaining will give rise to amongst +these country-people!" + +"In spite of everything. Mr. Marchmont wishes me to stay. It suits me +to stay. What does it matter what people say of me? What do I care for +any one's opinion--now?" + +"Olivia," cried the young man, "are you mad?" + +"Perhaps I am," she answered, coldly. + +"Why is it that you shut yourself from the sympathy of those who have a +right to care for you? What is the mystery of your life?" + +His cousin laughed bitterly. + +"Would you like to know, Edward Arundel?" she said. "You _shall_ know, +perhaps, some day. You have despised me all my life; you will despise +me more then." + +They had reached Paul Marchmont's painting-room by this time. Olivia +opened the door and walked in, followed by Edward. Paul was not there. +There was a picture covered with green-baize upon the easel, and the +artist's hat stood upon the table amidst the litter of brushes and +palettes; but the room was empty. The door at the top of the stone +steps leading to the pavilion was ajar. + +"Have you anything more to say to me?" Olivia asked, turning upon her +cousin as if she would have demanded why he had followed her. + +"Only this: I want to know your determination; whether you will be +advised by me--and by your father,--I saw my uncle Hubert this morning, +and his opinion exactly coincides with mine,--or whether you mean +obstinately to take your own course in defiance of everybody?" + +"I do," Olivia answered. "I shall take my own course. I defy everybody. +I have not been gifted with the power of winning people's affection. +Other women possess that power, and trifle with it, and turn it to bad +account. I have prayed, Edward Arundel,--yes, I have prayed upon my +knees to the God who made me, that He would give me some poor measure +of that gift which Nature has lavished upon other women; but He would +not hear me, He would not hear me! I was not made to be loved. Why, +then, should I make myself a slave for the sake of winning people's +esteem? If they have despised me, I can despise them." + +"Who has despised you, Olivia?" Edward asked, perplexed by his cousin's +manner. + +"YOU HAVE!" she cried, with flashing eyes; "you have! From first to +last--from first to last!" She turned away from him impatiently. "Go," +she said; "why should we keep up a mockery of friendliness and +cousinship? We are nothing to each other." + +Edward walked towards the door; but he paused upon the threshold, with +his hat in his hand, undecided as to what he ought to do. + +As he stood thus, perplexed and irresolute, a cry, the feeble cry of a +child, sounded within the pavilion. + +The young man started, and looked at his cousin. Even in the dusk he +could see that her face had suddenly grown livid. + +"There is a child in that place," he said pointing to the door at the +top of the steps. + +The cry was repeated as he spoke,--the low, complaining wail of a +child. There was no other voice to be heard,--no mother's voice +soothing a helpless little one. The cry of the child was followed by a +dead silence. + +"There is a child in that pavilion," Edward Arundel repeated. + +"There is," Olivia answered. + +"Whose child?" + +"What does it matter to you?" + +"Whose child?" + +"I cannot tell you, Edward Arundel." + +The soldier strode towards the steps, but before he could reach them, +Olivia flung herself across his pathway. + +"I will see whose child is hidden in that place," he said. "Scandalous +things have been said of you, Olivia. I will know the reason of your +visits to this place." + +She clung about his knees, and hindered him from moving; half kneeling, +half crouching on the lowest of the stone steps, she blocked his +pathway, and prevented him from reaching the door of the pavilion. It +had been ajar a few minutes ago; it was shut now. But Edward had not +noticed this. + +"No, no, no!" shrieked Olivia; "you shall trample me to death before +you enter that place. You shall walk over my corpse before you cross +that threshold." + +The young man struggled with her for a few moments; then he suddenly +flung her from him; not violently, but with a contemptuous gesture. + +"You are a wicked woman, Olivia Marchmont," he said; "and it matters +very little to me what you do, or what becomes of you. I know now the +secret of the mystery between you and Paul Marchmont. I can guess your +motive for perpetually haunting this place." + +He left the solitary building by the river, and walked slowly back +through the wood. + +His mind--predisposed to think ill of Olivia by the dark rumours he had +heard through his servant, and which had had a certain amount of +influence upon him, as all scandals have, however baseless--could +imagine only one solution to the mystery of a child's presence in the +lonely building by the river. Outraged and indignant at the discovery +he had made, he turned his back upon Marchmont Towers. + +"I will stay in this hateful place no longer," he thought, as he went +back to his solitary home; "but before I leave Lincolnshire the whole +county shall know what I think of Paul Marchmont." + + + + +END OF VOL. II. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of John Marchmont's Legacy, Volume II (of +3), by Mary E. 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