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diff --git a/35913.txt b/35913.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f6e4563 --- /dev/null +++ b/35913.txt @@ -0,0 +1,16606 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Child Wife, by Mayne Reid + +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: The Child Wife + +Author: Mayne Reid + +Release Date: April 19, 2011 [EBook #35913] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHILD WIFE *** + + + + +Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England + + + + +The Child Wife +By Captain Mayne Reid +Published by George Routledge and Sons Ltd, London. +This edition dated 1905. + +The Child Wife, by Captain Mayne Reid. + +________________________________________________________________________ + +________________________________________________________________________ +THE CHILD WIFE, BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID. + + + +CHAPTER ONE. + +THE ISLE OF PEACE. + +Aquidnec--"Isle of Peace!" + +Oh, Coddington, and ye Assistants of the General Court! what craze +possessed you to change this fair title of the red aboriginal for the +petty appellation of "Rhodes?" + +Out upon your taste--your classic affectation! Out upon your +ignorance--to mistake the "Roodt" of the old Dutch navigator for that +name appertaining to the country of the Colossus! + +In the title bestowed by Block there was at least appropriateness--even +something of poetry. Sailing around Sachuest Point, he beheld the grand +woods, red in the golden sun-glow of autumn. Flashed upon his delighted +eyes the crimson masses of tree foliage, and the festoonery of scarlet +creepers. Before his face were bright ochreous rocks cropping out from +the cliff. Down in his log-book went the "Red Island!" + +Oh, worthy Coddington, why did you reject the appellation of the Indian? +Or why decree such clumsy transformation to that of the daring +Dutchman? + +I shall cling to the old title--"Isle of Peace"; though in later times +less apt than when the Warapanoag bathed his bronzed limbs in the +tranquil waters of the Narraganset, and paddled his light canoe around +its rock-girt shores. + +Since then, Aquidnec! too often hast thou felt the sore scathing of war. +Where now thy virgin woods that rejoiced the eyes of Verrazano, fresh +from Tuscan scenes? Where thy grand oaks elms, and maples? Thy green +pines and red cedars? Thy birches that gave bark, thy chestnuts +affording food; thy sassafras laurel, restorer of health and life? + +Gone--all gone! Swept away by the torch and axe of the ruthless +soldier-destroyer. + +Despite thy despoliation, Aquidnec, thou art still a fair spot. Once +more the Isle of Peace, the abode of Love--its very Agapemone; every +inch of thy turf trodden by lovers' feet--every ledge of thy cliffs +listening to the old, old story. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +Newport, in the year of our Lord 18--, in the "height of the season." + +An apartment in that most hospitable of American hostelries, the Ocean +House, with a window looking westward. + +On the _troisieme etage_, commanding a continuous balcony, with a view +of the Atlantic, spreading broad and blue, beyond the range of the +telescope. Sachuest Point on the left, with the spray, like snowflakes, +breaking over the Cormorant Rock; on the right, Beaver Tail, with its +beacon; between them a fleet of fishing-craft, dipping for striped-bass +and tautog; in the far offing the spread sails of a full-rigged ship, +and the plume-like smoke soaring up from a steamer--both broadside to +the beholder, on their way between the two great seaports of Shawmut and +Manhattan. + +A noble view is this opening of the great estuary of Narraganset--one +upon which beautiful eyes have often rested. + +Never more beautiful than those of Julia Girdwood, the occupant of the +apartment above mentioned. + +She is not its sole occupant. There is another young lady beside her, +her cousin, Cornelia Inskip. She has also pretty eyes, of a bluish +tint; but they are scarce observed after looking into those orbs of dark +bistre, that seem to burn with an everlasting love-light. + +In the language of the romance writer, Julia would be termed a +_brunette_, Cornelia a _blonde_. Their figures are as different as +their complexion: the former tall and of full womanly development, the +latter of low stature, slighter, and to all appearance more youthful. + +Equally unlike their dispositions. She of the dark complexion appears +darker in thought, with greater solemnity of movement; while, judging by +her speech, the gay, sprightly Cornelia thinks but little of the past, +and still less about the future. + +Robed in loose morning-wrappers, with tiny slippers poised upon their +toes, they are seated in rocking-chairs, just inside the window. The +eyes of both, sweeping the blue sea, have just descried the steamer +coming from beyond the distant Point Judith, and heading in a +north-easterly direction. + +It was a fine sight, this huge black monster beating its way through the +blue water, and leaving a white seething track behind it. + +Cornelia sprang out into the balcony to get a better view of it. + +"I wonder what boat it is?" she said. "One of the great ocean steamers, +I suppose--a Cunarder!" + +"I think not, Neel. I wish it was one, and I aboard of it. Thank +Heaven! I shall be, before many weeks." + +"What! tired of Newport already? We'll find no pleasanter place in +Europe. I'm sure we shan't." + +"We'll find pleasanter people, at all events." + +"Why, what have you got against them?" + +"What have they got against us? I don't mean the natives here. They're +well enough, in their way. I speak of their summer visitors, like +ourselves. You ask what they've got against us. A strange question!" + +"_I_ haven't noticed anything." + +"But _I_ have. Because our fathers were retail storekeepers, these J.'s +and L.'s and B.'s affect to look down upon us! You know they do." + +Miss Inskip could not deny that something of this had been observed by +her. But she was one of those contented spirits who set but little +store upon aristocratic acquaintances, and are therefore insensible to +its slights. + +With the proud Julia it was different. If not absolutely slighting, the +"society" encountered in this fashionable watering-place had in some way +spited her--that section of it described as the J.'s and the L.'s and +the B.'s. + +"And for what reason?" she continued, with increasing indignation. "If +our fathers were retail storekeepers, their grandfathers were the same. +Where's the difference, I should like to know?" + +Miss Inskip could see none, and said so. + +But this did not tranquillise the chafed spirit of her cousin, and +perceiving it, she tried to soothe her on another tack. + +"Well, Julia, if the Miss J.'s, and Miss L.'s, and Miss B.'s, look down +on us, their brothers don't. On you, I'm sure they don't." + +"Bother their brothers! A fig for _their_ condescension. Do you take +me for a stupid, Neel? A million dollars left by my father's will, and +which must come to me at mother's death, will account for it. Besides, +unless the quicksilver in my looking-glass tells a terrible lie, I'm not +such a fright." + +She might well talk thus. Than Julia Girdwood, anything less like a +fright never stood in front of a mirror. Full-grown, and of perfect +form, this storekeeper's daughter had all the grand air of a duchess. +The face was perfect as the figure. You could not look upon it without +thoughts of love; though strangely, and somewhat unpleasantly, +commingled with an idea of danger. It was an aspect that suggested +Cleopatra, Lucrezia Borgia, or the beautiful murderess of Darnley. + +In her air there was no awkwardness--not the slightest sign of humble +origin, or the _gaucherie_ that usually springs from it. Something of +this might have been detected in the country cousin, Cornelia. But +Julia Girdwood had been stepping too long on the flags of the Fifth +Avenue, to be externally distinguished from the proudest damsels of that +aristocratic street. Her mother's house was in it. + +"It is true, Julia," assented her cousin; "you are both rich and +beautiful. I wish I could say the same." + +"Come, little flatterer! if not the first, you are certainly the last; +though neither counts for much here." + +"Why did we come here?" + +"I had nothing to do with it. Mamma is answerable for that. For my +part I prefer Saratoga, where there's less pretensions about pedigree, +and where a shopkeeper's daughter is as good as his granddaughter. I +wanted to go there this season. Mother objected. Nothing would satisfy +her but Newport, Newport, Newport! And here we are. Thank Heaven! it +won't be for long." + +"Well, since we are here, let us at least enjoy what everybody comes +for--the bathing." + +"Pretends to come for, you mean! Dipping their skins in salt water, the +Miss J.'s, and L.'s, and B.'s--much has that to do with their presence +at Newport! A good thing for them if it had! It might improve their +complexions a little. Heaven knows they need it; and Heaven be thanked +I don't." + +"But you'll bathe to-day?" + +"I shan't!" + +"Consider, cousin! It's such a delightful sensation." + +"I hate it!" + +"You're jesting, Julia?" + +"Well, I don't mean that I dislike bathing--only in that crowd." + +"But there's no exclusiveness on the beach." + +"I don't care. I won't go among them any more--on the beach, or +elsewhere. If I could only bathe out yonder, in the deep blue water, or +amid those white breakers we see! Ah! that _would_ be a delightful +sensation! I wonder if there's any place where we could take a dip by +ourselves?" + +"There is; I know the very spot I discovered it the other day, when I +was out with Keziah gathering shells. It's down under the cliffs. +There's a sweet little cave, a perfect grotto, with a deepish pool in +front, and smooth sandy bottom, white as silver. The cliff quite +overhangs it. I'm sure no one could see us from above; especially if we +go when the people are bathing. Then everybody would be at the beach, +and we'd have the cliff shore to ourselves. For that matter, we can +undress in the cave, without the chance of a creature seeing us. Keziah +could keep watch outside. Say you'll go, Julia?" + +"Well, I don't mind. But what about mamma? She's such a terrible +stickler for the proprieties. She may object." + +"We needn't let her know anything about it. She don't intend bathing +to-day; she's just told me so. We two can start in the usual style, as +if going to the beach. Once outside, we can go our own way. I know of +a path across the fields that'll take us almost direct to the place. +You'll go?" + +"Oh, I'm agreed." + +"It's time for us to set out, then. You hear that tramping along the +corridor? It's the bathers about to start. Let us call Keziah, and be +off." + +As Julia made no objection, her sprightly cousin tripped out into the +corridor; and, stopping before the door of an adjoining apartment, +called "Keziah!" + +The room was Mrs Girdwood's; Keziah, her servant--a sable-skinned +damsel, who played lady's maid for all three. + +"What is it, child?" asked a voice evidently not Keziah's. + +"We're going to bathe, aunt," said the young lady, half-opening the +door, and looking in. "We want Keziah to get ready the dresses." + +"Yes, yes," rejoined the same voice, which was that of Mrs Girdwood +herself. "You hear, Keziah? And hark ye, girls!" she added, addressing +herself to the two young ladies, now both standing in the doorway, "see +that you take a swimming lesson. Remember we are going over the great +seas, where there's many a chance of getting drowned." + +"Oh, ma! you make one shiver." + +"Well, well, I hope swimming may never be needed by you. For all that, +there's no harm in being able to keep your head above water, and that in +more senses than one. Be quick, girl, with the dresses! The people are +all gone; you'll be late. Now, then, off with you!" + +Keziah soon made her appearance in the corridor, carrying a bundle. + +A stout, healthy-looking negress--her woolly head "toqued" in New +Orleans style, with a checkered bandanna--she was an appanage of the +defunct storekeeper's family; specially designed to give to it an air +Southern, and of course aristocratic. At this time Mrs Girdwood was +not the only Northern lady who selected her servants with an eye to such +effect. + +Slippers were soon kicked off, and kid boots pulled on in their places. +Hats were set coquettishly on the head, and shawls--for the day was +rather cool--were thrown loosely over shoulders. + +"Come on!" and at the word the cousins glided along the gallery, +descended the great stair, tripped across the piazza outside, and then +turned off in the direction of the Bath Road. + +Once out of sight of the hotel, they changed their course, striking into +a path that led more directly toward the cliff. + +In less than twenty minutes after, they _might have been_ seen +descending it, through one of those sloping ravines that here and there +interrupt the continuity of the precipice--Cornelia going first, Julia +close after, the turbaned negress, bearing her bundle, in the rear. + + + +CHAPTER TWO. + +A BRACE OF NAIADS. + +They _were_ seen. + +A solitary gentleman sauntering along the cliff, saw the girls go down. + +He was coming from the direction of Ochre Point, but too far off to tell +more than that they were two young ladies, followed by a black servant. + +He thought it a little strange at that hour. It was bathing-time upon +the beach. He could see the boxes discharging their gay groups in +costumes of green and blue, crimson and scarlet--in the distance looking +like parti-coloured Lilliputians. + +"Why are these two ladies not along with them?" was his reflection. +"Shell-gatherers, I suppose," was the conjecture that followed. +"Searchers after strange seaweeds. From Boston, no doubt. And I'd bet +high that the nose of each is bridged with a pair of blue spectacles." + +The gentleman smiled at the conceit, but suddenly changed it. The sable +complexion of the servant suggested a different conclusion. + +"More like they are Southerners?" was the muttered remark. + +After making it he ceased to think of them. He had a gun in his hand, +and was endeavouring to get a shot at some of the large seabirds now and +then sweeping along the escarpment of the cliff. + +As the tide was still only commencing to return from its ebb, these flew +low, picking up their food from the stranded _algae_ that, like a +fringe, followed the outlines of the shore. + +The sportsman, observing this, became convinced he would have a better +chance below; and down went he through one of the gaps--the first that +presented itself! + +Keeping on towards the Forty Steps, he progressed only slowly. Here and +there rough ledges required scaling; the yielding sand also delayed him. + +But he was in no hurry. The chances of a shot were as good at one place +as another. Hours must elapse ere the Ocean House gong would summon its +scattered guests to their grand dinner. He was one of them. Until that +time he had no reason for returning to the hotel. + +The gentleman thus leisurely strolling, is worthy a word or two by way +of description. + +That he was only an amateur sportsman, his style of dress plainly +proclaimed. More plainly did it bespeak the soldier. A forage cap, +that had evidently seen service, half shadowed a face whose deep sun-tan +told of that service being done in a tropical clime; while the tint, +still fresh and warm, was evidence of recent return. A plain +frock-coat, of civilian cut, close buttoned; a pair of dark-blue +pantaloons, with well-made boots below them, completed his semi-military +costume. Added: that these garments were fitted upon a figure +calculated to display them to the utmost advantage. + +The face was in keeping with the figure. _Not_ oval, but of that rotund +shape, ten times more indicative of daring, as of determination. +Handsome, too, surmounted as it was by a profusion of dark hair, and +adorned by a well-defined moustache. These advantages had the young man +in question, who, despite the appearance of much travel, and some +military service, was still under thirty. + +Slowly sauntering onward, his boots scranching among the pebbles, he +heard but the sound of his own footsteps. + +It was only on stopping to await the passage of a gull, and while +calculating the carry of his gun, that other sounds arrested his +attention. + +These were so sweet, that the gull was at once forgotten. It flew past +without his attempting to pull trigger--although so close to the muzzle +of his gun he might have "murdered" it! + +"Nymphs! Naiads! Mermaids! Which of the three? Proserpine upon a +rock superintending their aquatic sports! Ye gods and goddesses! what +an attractive tableau?" + +These words escaped him, as he stood crouching behind a point of rock +that abutted far out from the line of the cliff. Beyond it was the cove +in which the young ladies were bathing--the negress keeping but careless +watch as she sat upon one of the ledges. + +"Chaste Dian!" exclaimed the sportsman; "pardon me for this intrusion. +Quite inadvertent, I assure you. I must track back," he continued, "to +save myself from being transformed into a stag. Provoking, too! I +wanted to go that way to explore a cave I've heard spoken of. I came +out with this intention. How awkward to be thus interrupted!" + +There was something like a lie outlined upon his features as he muttered +the last reflection. In his actions too; for he still loitered behind +the rock--still kept looking over it. + +Plunging in pellucid water not waist-deep--their lower extremities only +concealed by the saturated skirts that clung like cerements around +them--their feet showing clear as coral--the two young creatures +continued to disport themselves. Only Joseph himself could have +retreated from the sight! + +And then their long hair in full dishevelment--of two colour, black and +gold--sprinkled by the pearly spray, as the girls, with tiny rose-tipped +fingers, dashed the water in each other's faces--all the time making the +rocks ring with the music of their merry voices--ah! from such a picture +who could comfortably withdraw his eyes? + +It cost the sportsman an effort; of which he was capable--only by +thinking of his sister. + +And thinking of her, he loitered no longer, but drew back behind the +rock. + +"Deuced awkward!" he again muttered to himself--perhaps this time with +more sincerity. "I wished particularly to go that way. The cave cannot +be much farther on, and now to trudge all the way back! I must either +do that, or wait till they've got through their game of aquatics." + +For a moment he stood reflecting. It was a considerable distance to the +place where he had descended the cliff. Moreover, the track was +toilsome, as he had proved by experience. + +He decided to stay where he was till the "coast should be clear." + +He sat down upon a stone, took out a cigar, and commenced smoking. + +He was scarce twenty paces from the pool in which the pretty dears were +enjoying themselves. He could hear the plashing of their palms, like +young cygnets beating the water with their wings. He could hear them +exchange speeches, mingled with peals of clear-ringing laughter. There +could be no harm in listening to these sounds, since the sough of the +sea hindered him from making out what was said. Only now and then did +he distinguish an interjection, proclaiming the delight in which the two +Naiads were indulging, or one, the sharper voice of the negress, to warn +then against straying too far out, as the tide had commenced rising. + +From these signs he knew he had not been observed while standing exposed +by the projection of rock. + +A full half-hour elapsed, and still continued the plunging and the peals +of laughter. + +"Very mermaids they must be--to stay so long in the water! Surely +they've had enough of it!" + +As shown by this reflection, the sportsman was becoming impatient. + +Shortly after, the plashing ceased, and along with it the laughter. He +could still hear the voices of the two girls engaged in conversation--at +intervals intermingled with that of the negress. + +"They are out now, and dressing," he joyfully conjectured. "I wonder +how long they'll be about that. Not another hour, I hope." + +He took out a fresh cigar. It was his third. + +"By the time I've finished this," reflected he, "they'll be gone. At +all events, they ought to be dressed; and, without rudeness, I may take +the liberty of slipping past them." + +He lit the cigar, smoked, and listened. + +The conversation was now carried on in an uninterrupted strain, but in +quieter tones, and no longer interspersed with laughter. + +The cigar became shortened to a stump, and still those silvery voices +were heard mingling with the hoarse symphony of the sea--the latter, +each moment growing louder as the tide continued to rise. A fresh +breeze had sprung up, which, brought shoreward by the tidal billow, +increased the noise; until the voices of the girls appeared like some +distant metallic murmur, and the listener at length doubted whether he +heard them or not. + +"Their time's up," he said, springing to his feet, and flinging away the +stump of the cigar. "They've had enough to make their toilet twice +over, at all events. I can give no more grace; so here goes to continue +my exploration!" + +He turned towards the projection of the cliff. A single step forward, +and he came to a stand--his countenance suddenly becoming clouded with +an unpleasant expression! The tide had stolen up to the rocks, and the +point of the promontory was now full three feet under water; while the +swelling waves, at intervals, surged still higher! + +There was neither beach below, nor ledge above; no way but by taking to +the water. + +The explorer saw that it would be impossible to proceed in the direction +intended, without wading up to his waist. The object he had in view was +not worth such a saturation; and with an exclamation of disappointment-- +chagrin, too, for the lost time--he turned upon his heel, and commenced +retracing his steps along the base of the bluffs. + +He no longer went strolling or sauntering. An apprehension had arisen +in his mind that stimulated him to the quickest pace in his power. What +if his retreat should be cut off by the same obstacle that had +interrupted his advance? + +The thought was sufficiently alarming; and hastily scrambling over the +ledges, and skimming across the stretches of quicksand--now transformed +into pools--he only breathed freely when once more in the gorge by which +he had descended. + + + +CHAPTER THREE. + +THE TWO POETASTERS. + +The sportsman was under a mistake about the girls being gone. They were +still within the cove; only no longer conversing. + +Their dialogue had ended along with their dressing; and they had betaken +themselves to two separate occupations--both of which called for +silence. Miss Girdwood had commenced reading a book that appeared to be +a volume of poems; while her cousin, who had come provided with drawing +materials, was making a sketch of the grotto that had served them for a +robing-room. + +On their emerging from the water, Keziah had plunged into the same +pool--now disturbed by the incoming tide, and deep enough to conceal her +dusky charms from the eyes of any one straying along the cliff. + +After spluttering about for a matter of ten minutes, the negress +returned to the shore; once more drew the gingham gown over her head; +squeezed the salt spray out of her kinky curls; readjusted the bandanna; +and, giving way to the languor produced by the saline immersion, lay +down upon the dry shingle--almost instantly falling asleep. + +In this way had the trio become disposed, as the explorer, after +discovering the obstruction to his progress, turned back along the +strand--their silence leading him to believe they had taken departure. + +For some time this silence continued, Cornelia taking great pains with +her drawing. It was a scene well worthy of her pencil, and with the +three figures introduced, just as they were, could not fail to make an +interesting picture. She intended it as the record of a rare and +somewhat original scene: for, although young ladies occasionally took a +sly dip in such solitary places, it required a certain degree of daring. + +Seated upon a stone, as far out as the tide would allow her, she +sketched her cousin, leaning studiously against the cliff, and the +sable-skinned maid-servant, with turbaned head, lying stretched along +the shingle. The scarped precipice, with the grotto underneath; the +dark rocks here overhanging, there seamed by a gorge that sloped steeply +upward--the sides of the latter trellised with convolvuli and clumps of +fantastic shrubbery,--all these were to appear in the picture. + +She was making fair progress, when interrupted by an exclamation from +her cousin. + +The latter had been for some time turning over the leaves of her book +with a rapidity that denoted either impatience or dire disappointment in +its contents. + +At intervals she would stop, read a few lines, and then sweep onward--as +if in search of something better. + +This exercise ended, at length, by her dashing the volume down upon the +shingle, and exclaiming: + +"Stuff!" + +"Who?" + +"Tennyson." + +"Surely you're jesting? The divine Tennyson--the pet poet of the age?" + +"Poet of the age! There's no such person!" + +"What! not Longfellow?" + +"Another of the same. The American edition, diluted, if such a thing +were possible. Poets indeed! Rhymesters of quaint conceits--spinners +of small sentiments in long hexameters--not soul enough in all the +scribblings of both to stir up the millionth part of an emotion?" + +"You are severe, cousin. How do you account for their world-wide +popularity? Is that not a proof of their being poets?" + +"Was it a proof in the case of Southey? Poor, conceited Southey, who +believed himself superior to Byron! And the world shared his belief--at +least one-half of it, while he lived! In these days such a dabbler in +verse would scarce obtain the privilege of print." + +"But Longfellow and Tennyson have obtained it." + +"True; and along with, as you say, a world-wide reputation. All that is +easily explained." + +"How?" + +"By the accident of their coming _after_ Byron--immediately after him." + +"I don't comprehend you, cousin." + +"Nothing can be clearer. Byron made the world drunk with a divine +intoxication. His superb verse was to the soul what wine is to the +body; producing a grand and glorious thrill--a very carousal of +intellectual enjoyment. Like all such excesses, it was followed by that +nervous debility that requires a blue pill and black draught. It called +for its absinthe and camomile bitters; and these have been supplied by +Alfred Tennyson, Poet Laureate to the Queen of England, and Henry +Wadsworth Longfellow, pet of the sentimental and spectacled young ladies +of Boston. It was a poetic tempest, to be followed by a prosaic calm, +that has now lasted over forty years, unbroken save by the piping of +this pair of poetasters!" + +"Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers!" repeated Cornelia, with +a good-natured laugh. + +"Yes!" cried Julia, rather irritated by her cousin's indifference. "By +just such a paltry play upon words, by the imagination of small +sentimentalities, and sickly conceits, plucked out of barren brains, and +then machined into set stanzas, have these same poetasters obtained the +world-wide reputation you speak of. Out upon such pretenders! And this +is how I would serve them." + +She raised her little foot, and, with a spiteful stamp, brought her heel +down upon poor Tennyson, sinking him deep into the spongy sand! + +"Oh, Julia, you've spoilt the book?" + +"There's nothing in it to spoil. Waste print and paper. There's more +poetry in one of these pretty seaweeds that lie neglected on the sand-- +far more than in a myriad of such worthless volumes. Let it lie!" + +The last words were addressed to Keziah, who, startled from her slumber, +had stooped to pick up the trampled volume. + +"Let it lie, till the waves sweep over it and bear it into oblivion; as +the waves of Time will wash out the memory of its author. Oh, for one +true--one real poet!" + +At this moment Cornelia started to her feet; not from anything said by +her cousin, but simply because the waves of the Atlantic were already +stealing around her skirts. As she stood erect, the water was dripping +from them. + +The sketcher regretted this interruption of her task; the picture was +but half completed; and it would spoil it to change the point of view. + +"No matter," she muttered, closing her sketch-book, "we can come again +to-morrow. You will, won't you, Julia, to oblige me?" + +"And myself miss. It's the very thing, this little plunge _sans facon_. +I haven't enjoyed anything like it since landing on the island of--of-- +Aquidnec. That, I believe, is the ancient appellation. Come, then, let +us be off! To-day, for a novelty, I shall dine with something +resembling an appetite." + +Keziah having wrung out the bathing-dresses and tied them in a bundle, +the three prepared to depart. + +Tennyson still lay crushed upon the sand; and his spiteful critic would +not allow him to be taken up! + +They started to return to the hotel--intending to go up the cliff by the +same ravine through which they had come down. They knew of no other +way. + +On reaching the jutting rock that formed the flanking of the cove, all +three were brought suddenly to a stand. + +There was no path by which they could proceed; they had stayed too long +in the cove, and the tide had cut off their retreat. + +The water was only a few feet in depth; and, had it been still, they +might have waded it. But the flow was coming in with a surge strong +enough to sweep them off their feet. + +They saw this, but without feeling anything like fear. They regarded it +only as an unpleasant interruption. + +"We must go in the opposite direction," said Julia, turning back into +the cove, and leading the way around it. + +But here again was their path obstructed, just as on the opposite side. + +The same depth of water, the same danger to be dreaded from the lashing +of the surge! + +As they stood regarding it, it appeared to grow deeper and more +dangerous! + +Back to the place just left. + +There, too, had the depth been increasing. The tide seemed to have +risen more than a foot since they left it. It was but the breeze still +freshening over the sea. + +To have waded around either point seemed no longer possible; and none of +the three could swim! + +The cousins uttered a simultaneous cry. It was the first open +acknowledgment of a fear both secretly felt. + +The cry was echoed by their dark-skinned attendant, far more frightened +than they. + +Back again to the other side--once more back and forward--and their +panic was complete. + +They were no longer in doubt about their situation. On both sides the +path was obstructed. Clearly was their retreat cut off! Up the +precipice went their eyes, to see whether it could be climbed. It +needed but a glance to tell them "No!" There was the gorge running up +the cliff; but it looked as if only a cat could have scaled it! + +They turned from it in despair. + +There was but one hope remaining. The tide might not mount above their +heads; and might they not stay where they were till it ebbed again? + +With quick glances they interrogated the waves, the grotto, the rocks +overhead. Unaccustomed to the sea, they knew but little of its ways. +They knew that the waves rose and fell; but how far? They could see +nothing to tell them; nothing to confirm their fears, or assure them of +their safety! + +This suspense was even worse to endure than the certainty of danger. + +Oppressed by it, the two girls clasped each other by the hand, raising +their united voices in a cry for deliverance: "Help! Help!" + + + +CHAPTER FOUR. + +"HELP! HELP!" + +Their cry of distress ascended to the summit of the cliff. + +It was heard; and by one who had lately listened to the same voices, +speaking in tones of the sweetest contentment. + +It was he who carried the gun. + +After scrambling up the gorge, he had faced northward in the direction +of Easton's Beach; for the reason only that this was his nearest way to +the hotel. + +He was reflecting upon the incident that had caused him such a toilsome +detour; though his thoughts were dwelling less upon this than upon the +face of one of the two naiads seen playing in the pool. + +It was the one of darker complexion. + +Her figure, too, was recalled. In that transitory glance he had +perceived above the water-line, and continued in the translucency +beneath, an outline not easily forgotten. He so well remembered it, as +almost to repent the spasm of delicacy that had caused him to retreat +behind the rock. + +This repentance had something to do with the direction he was now +taking. + +He had hopes of encountering the bathers as they came up to the summit +of the cliff. + +Much time, however, had passed. He could see that the beach was +deserted--the few dark forms appearing upon it being evidently those +solitary creatures of bachelor kind, who become Neptune's guests only at +the second table. + +Of course the two mermaids having exchanged their loose aquatic costume +for the more constrained dress of the street, had long since gone home +to the hotel. This was his conjecture. + +A cry came to contradict it; close followed by another, and another! + +He ran out to the edge of the cliff and looked downward. He could +remember nothing of the landmarks. The tide, now well in, had changed +the look of everything below. The ledges were covered--their position +only to be told by the surf breaking over them. + +Once more came up the cry! + +Dropping on his knees, he crept closer and closer to the escarped edge-- +out to its very brink. Still nothing to be seen below! Neither woman +nor human being. Not a spot on which one might find footing. No beach +above water--no shoal, rock, or ledge, projecting from the precipice--no +standing-place of any kind. Only the dark angry waves, roaring like +enraged lions, and embracing the abutment as though they would drag it +back with them into the abysm of the ocean! + +Amidst the crashing and seething, once more ascended the cry! Again, +and again, till it became a continuous chant! + +He could not mistake its meaning. The bathers were still below. Beyond +doubt they were in danger. + +How could he assist them? + +He started to his feet. He looked all round--along the cliff-path, and +across the fields stretching back from the shore. + +No house was near--no chance of obtaining a rope. + +He turned toward Easton's Beach. There might be a boat there. But +could it be brought in time? + +It was doubtful. The cries continuing told him that the peril was +imminent. Those imperilled might be already struggling with the tide! + +At this moment he remembered a sloping gorge. It could not be far off. +It was the same by which the young ladies had gone down. He was a +strong swimmer, and knew it. By swimming round into the cove, he might +be able to effect their rescue. + +Giving a shout, to assure them that their situation was known, he +started at full speed along the crest of the cliff. + +On reaching the ravine, he flung himself into it, and soon reached the +sea-level below. + +Without pausing, he turned along the shore, rushing over sand and +shingle, over sharp ledges, and making his way among boulders slippery +with seaweed. + +He reached the abutment that flanked one side of the cove, from which he +could now again hear the cries of distress, mingled with the hoarse +shrieking of the sea. + +To wade round the point was plainly impossible. The water was +neck-deep, seething and swelling. + +Kicking off his boots, and throwing his gun, cap, and coat upon a ledge, +he plunged in, and commenced a struggle with the billows. + +It cost him one--his life nearly. Twice was his body borne against the +rock with fearful violence--each time receiving injury in the shock. + +He succeeded in rounding the point and reaching the cove beyond, where +the swell broke more smoothly upon a sloping bed. + +He now swam with ease; and soon stood in the presence of the bathers, +who, at sight of him, had ceased their cries, believing their danger at +an end. + +All were within the grotto, to which they had retreated, as offering the +highest ground. For all this, they were up to the ankles in water! + +At his approach they rushed out, wading knee-deep to meet him. + +"Oh, sir!" cried the eldest of the young ladies, "you see how we are +situated: can you assist us?" + +The swimmer had risen erect. He looked right and left, before making +rejoinder. + +"Can you swim?" he asked. + +"Not one of us." + +"It is bad," he muttered to himself. "Either way, it is doubtful +whether I could carry them through it. It's been as much as I could do +for myself. We'd be almost certain of being crushed. What, in heaven's +name, can be done for them?" + +They were thoughts rather than words, and the girls could not know them. +But they saw the stranger's brow clouded with apprehension; and with +eyes straining into his, they stood trembling. + +He turned suddenly, and glanced up the cliff. He remembered the seam he +had observed from above. He could now survey it from base to summit. + +A gleam of hope flashed over his face. It could be scaled! + +"Surely you can climb up there?" he asked, encouragingly. + +"No, no! I'm sure we could never go up that way. _I_ could not." + +"Nor I." + +"You might sustain yourselves by taking hold of the bushes. It is not +so difficult as it appears. Those tufts of grass would help you; and +there are points where you might place your feet. I could climb it +easily myself; but, unfortunately, it would be impossible for me to +assist you. There is not room for two to go up together." + +"I am sure I should fall before I was halfway to the top!" + +This was said by Cornelia. Julia signified the same. The negress had +no voice. With lips ashy pale, she seemed too much terrified to speak. + +"Then there is no alternative but to try swimming," said the stranger, +once more facing seaward, and again scrutinising the surf. "No!" he +added, apparently recoiling from the design, "by swimming I might save +myself, though it is no longer certain. The swell has increased since I +came in here. There's been wind on the sea outside. I'm a fair +swimmer; but to take one of you with me is, I fear, beyond my strength." + +"But, sir!" appealed she of the dark eyes, "is it certain we could not +stay here till the tide falls again?" + +"Impossible! Look there!" answered he, pointing to the cliff. + +There could be no mistaking what he meant. That line trending +horizontally along the facade of the precipice, here and there ragged +with sea-wrack, was the high-water mark of the tide. It was far +overhead! + +The girls uttered a simultaneous scream as they stood regarding it. It +was, in truth, the first time they had felt a full sense of their +danger. Hitherto they had been sustained by a hope that the tide would +not mount so high as to submerge them. But there was the tell-tale +track, beyond reach even of their hands! + +"Courage!" cried the stranger, his voice all at once assuming a cheerful +tone, as if some bright thought had occurred to him. "You have shawls, +both of you. Let me have them." + +Without questioning his purpose, both raised the cashmeres from their +shoulders, and held them out to him. + +"A plan has occurred to me," said he, taking out his knife, and cutting +the costly fabric into strips. "I did not think of it before. By the +help of these I may get you up the cliff." + +The shawls were soon separated into several bands. These he knotted +together so as to form a long, narrow festoonery. + +With eager hands the young ladies assisted him in the operation. + +"Now?" he said, as soon as the junction was completed; "by this I can +draw you up, one by one. Who first?" + +"Go, cousin!" said she of the dark eyes; "you are lightest. It will be +easier for him in the trial." + +As there was no time for either ceremony or dispute, Cornelia accepted +the suggestion. The stranger could have no choice. + +The shawl-rope was carefully adjusted around her waist, then with equal +care fastened to his. Thus linked, they commenced climbing the cliff. + +Though difficult for both, the scaling proved successful; and the young +girl stood unharmed upon the summit. + +She made no demonstration of joy. Her cousin was still below--still in +danger! + +Once again down the gorge by which he had before descended. Once more +around the rock, battling with the breakers--and again safe in the +shelter of the cove. + +The shawl-rope flung down from above had been caught by those below; and +was for the second time put into requisition. + +In like manner was Julia rescued from the danger of drowning! + +But the efforts of the rescuer did not end here. His was a gallantry +that had nought to do with the colour of the skin. + +For the third time his life was imperilled, and the negress stood safe +upon the summit of the cliff--to unite with the young ladies in the +expression of their gratitude. + +"We can never sufficiently thank you," said she of the bistre-coloured +eyes. + +"Oh, never!" exclaimed her companion with the irides of azure. + +"Another favour, sir," said the first speaker. "It seems quite a shame +to ask it. But we shall be so laughed at if this become known. Would +it be too much to request, that nothing be said of our very unpleasant +adventure?" + +"There shall be nothing said by me," responded the rescuer. "Of that, +ladies, you may rest assured." + +"Thanks!--a thousand thanks! Indeed, we are greatly indebted to you. +Good-day, sir!" + +With a bow, dark eyes turned away from the cliff along the path leading +to the Ocean House. A somewhat deeper sentiment was observed in the +orbs of blue; though their owner took leave without giving it +expression. + +The confusion arising from their late alarm might perhaps plead their +excuse. + +None was needed by the negress. + +"God bress you, brave massa! God bress you!" were her parting words-- +the only ones that appeared to be spoken in true gratitude. + + + +CHAPTER FIVE. + +THE SCATHED RETRIEVER. + +Filled with astonishment, and not without a slight feeling of chagrin, +the sportsman stood looking after the trio he had delivered from almost +certain death. + +"A thousand thanks! Indeed we are greatly indebted to you?" + +He repeated these words, imitating the tone in which they had been +spoken. + +"By my faith?" he continued, with an emphasis on each word, "if that +isn't a little of the coolest! What the dickens have I been doing for +these dames? In the country of my christening I'd have had as much for +helping them over a stile, or picking up a dropped glove. `Good-day, +sir!' Name neither asked nor given! Not a hint about `calling again'! + +"Well, I suppose I shall have another opportunity of seeing them. They +are going straight towards the Ocean House. No doubt a brace of birds +from that extensive aviary. Birds of paradise, too--judging by their +fine feathers! Ah! the dark one. Step like a race-horse--eye like a +she-eagle! + +"Strange how the heart declares its preference! Strange I should think +most of her who appeared least grateful! Nay, she spoke almost +superciliously. I wonder if likes were ever mutual. + +"I could love that girl--I'm sure of it. Would it be a true, honest +passion? Not so sure of that. She's not exactly the kind I'd like to +call wife. I feel convinced she'd aspire to wear the-- + +"Talking of inexpressibles makes me think of my coat, hat, and boots. +Suppose, now, the tide has swept them off? What a figure I'd cut +sneaking back to the hotel in my shirt-sleeves! Hatless and shoeless to +boot! It's just possible such _expose_ is in store for me. My God!" +The exclamation was uttered with an accent quite different from the +speeches that preceded it. These had been muttered jocosely, with a +smile upon his lips. Along with the "My God!" came a cloud, covering +his whole countenance. + +The change was explained by what quickly came after. + +"My pocket-book! A thousand dollars in it! All the money I have in the +world! If that's lost I'll cut a still sorrier figure at the hotel. A +long bill owing! My papers, too! Some of them of great importance to +me--deeds and documents! God help me, if they're gone!" + +Once more along the cliff; once more descending the slope, with as much +haste as if still another damsel with "she-eagle" eyes was screaming for +help below! + +He had reached the sea-level, and was turning along the strand, when he +saw a dark object upon the water--about a cable's length out from the +shore. It was a small row-boat; with two men in it. + +It was headed toward Easton Beach; but the rowers had stopped pulling, +and were sitting with oars unshipped. They were nearly opposite the +cove out of which he had so lately climbed. + +"What a pity!" was his reflection. "Had these fellows shown themselves +but twenty minutes sooner, they'd have saved me a set of sore bones, and +the young ladies a couple of shawls that must have cost them a good +round price--no doubt five hundred dollars apiece! The boat must have +been coming up shore all the time. How stupid of me not to have seen +it! + +"What are they stopped for now? Ah! my coat and cap! They see them, +and so do I. Thank heaven, my pocket-book and papers are safe!" + +He was hastening on to make them still more secure, for the tide was +close threatening his scattered garments--when all at once a dark +monster-like form was seen approaching from the sea, surging toward the +same point. As it got into shallow water, its body rose above the +surface discovering a huge Newfoundland dog! + +The animal had evidently come from the boat--had been sent from it. But +for what purpose did not strike the sportsman till he saw the shaggy +creature spring upward to the ledge, seize hold of his coat in its +teeth, and then turning with it plunge back into the water! + +A Broadway frock of best broadcloth; a thousand dollars in the pockets; +papers worth ten times the amount! + +"Heigh! heigh!" cried the owner, rushing on toward the spot where the +rape was being committed, "down with it, you brute! down with it! drop +it!" + +"Fetch it?" came a voice from the boat; "come on, good Bruno! Fetch +it!" + +The words were followed by a peal of laughter that rang scornfully along +the cliffs. The voices of both the boatmen took part in it. + +Blacker than the rocks behind him became the face of the sportsman, who +had paused in silent surprise. + +Up to that moment he had supposed that the two men had not seen him, and +that the dog had been sent to pick up what might appear "unclaimed +property." But the command given to the animal, with the scornful +laugh, at once cured him of his delusion, and he turned toward them with +a scowl that might have terrified bolder spirits than theirs. + +It did not check his rising wrath to perceive that they were a brace of +young "bloods" out on a pleasuring excursion. Perhaps all the more did +he feel sensible of the insult. + +He who had wandered far and wide; who had tracked Comanches on the +war-path; had struck his sword against a _chevaux-de-frise_ of Mexican +bayonets, to be mocked after such fantastic fashion, and by such +fellows! + +"Command the dog back!" he shouted, in a voice that made the rocks +re-echo. "Back with him; or, by heaven, you shall both rue it!" + +"Come on, Bruno?" cried they, reckless, now they had committed +themselves. "Good dog! Fetch it! fetch it!" + +He in the shirt-sleeves stood for a moment irresolute, because feeling +himself helpless. The animal had got out of his reach. It would be +impossible to overtake it. Equally so to swim out to the boat, and +wreak his wrath upon the rowers, whose speech continued to torture him. + +Though seeming to him an age, his inaction was scarce of a second's +continuance. On looking around to see what might be done, his eye +rested upon the gun, still lying upon the ledge where he had left it. + +With an exulting shout he sprang toward the piece, and again held it in +his grasp. It was loaded with large shot; for he had been sporting for +water-fowl. + +He did not wait to give warning. The scurvy behaviour of the fellows +had released him from all ceremony; and hastily raising the piece, sent +a shower of shot around the shoulders of the Newfoundland. + +The dog dropped the coat, gave out a hideous growling, and swam, +crippled-like, toward the boat. + +Laughter no longer ran along the cliffs. It had ceased at sight of the +gun. + +"It's a double one," said he who grasped it, speaking loud enough for +them to hear him. "If you'll bring your boat a little nearer, I may +treat you to the second barrel?" + +The bloods thought better than to accept the invitation. Their joke had +come to a disagreeable termination; and with rueful faces they pulled +poor Bruno aboard, and continued the row so regretfully interrupted. + +Fortunately for the sportsman, the tide was still "running," so that his +coat came ashore--dollars and documents along with it. + +He spent some time in wringing out his saturated habiliments, and making +himself presentable for the hotel. By good luck, there were no streets +to pass through--the Ocean House being at this time separated only by +farm fields from the rocky shore that had been the scene of his +achievements. + +"Adventures enough for one day!" he muttered to himself, as he +approached the grand _caravanserai_ swarming with its happy hundreds. + +He did not know that still another was in store for him. As he stepped +into the long piazza, two gentlemen were seen entering at the opposite +end. They were followed by a large dog, that sadly needed helping over +a stile. + +The recognition was mutual; though only acknowledged by a reciprocal +frown, so dark as not to be dispelled by the cheerful gong at that +moment sounding the summons to dinner. + + + +CHAPTER SIX. + +A LOVING COUPLE. + +"Married for love! Hach! fool that I've been!" + +The man who muttered these words was seated with elbows resting upon a +table, and hands thrust distractedly through his hair. + +"Fool that I've been, and for a similar reason!" The rejoinder, in a +female voice, came from an inner apartment. At the same instant the +door, already ajar, was spitefully pushed open, disclosing the speaker +to view: a woman of splendid form and features, not the less so that +both were quivering with indignation. + +The man started, and looked up with an air of embarrassment. "You heard +me, Frances?" he said, in a tone half-surly, half-ashamed. + +"I heard you, Richard," answered the woman, sweeping majestically into +the room. "A pretty speech for a man scarce twelve months married--for +you! Villain!" + +"That name is welcome!" doggedly retorted the man. "It's enough to make +one a villain?" + +"What's enough, sir?" + +"To think that but for you I might have had my thousands a year, with a +titled lady for my wife!" + +"Not worse than to think that but for you I might have had my tens of +thousands, with a lord for my husband! ay, a coronet on my crown, where +you are barely able to stick a bonnet?" + +"Bah! I wish you had your lord." + +"And bah to you! I wish you had your lady." The dissatisfied benedict, +finding himself more than matched in the game of recrimination, dropped +back into his chair, replanted his elbows on the table, and resumed the +torturing of his hair. + +Back and forth over the floor of the apartment paced the outraged wife, +like a tigress chafed, but triumphant. + +Man and wife, they were a remarkable couple. By nature both were highly +endowed; the man handsome as Apollo, the woman beautiful as Venus. +Adorned with moral grace, they might have challenged comparison with +anything on earth. In the scene described, it was more like Lucifer +talking to Juno enraged. + +The conversation was in the English tongue, the accent was English, the +speakers apparently belonging to that country--both of them. This +impression was confirmed by some articles of travelling gear, trunks and +portmanteaus of English manufacture, scattered over the floor. But the +apartment was in the second storey of a second-class boarding-house in +the city of New York. + +The explanation is easy enough. The amiable couple had but lately +landed from an Atlantic steamer. The "O.K." of the Custom House chalk +was still legible on their luggage. + +Looking upon the pair of strange travellers--more especially after +listening to what they have said--one skilled in the physiognomy of +English life would have made the following reflections:-- + +The man has evidently been born "a gentleman," and as evidently brought +up in a bad school. He has been in the British army. About this there +can be no mistake; no more than that he is now out of it. He still +carries its whisker, though not its commission. The latter he has lost +by selling out; but not until after receiving a hint from his colonel, +or a "round robin" from his brother officers, requesting him to +"resign." If ever rich, he has long since squandered his wealth; +perhaps even the money obtained for his commission. He is now poor. +His looks proclaim him an adventurer. + +Those of the woman carry to a like conclusion, as regards herself. Her +air and action, the showy style of her dress, a certain recklessness +observable in the cast of her countenance, bring the beholder, who has +once stood alongside "Rotten Row," back to the border of that +world-renowned ride. In the fair Fan he sees the type of the "pretty +horse-breaker"--the "Anonyma" of the season. + +It is an oft-repeated experience. A handsome man, a beautiful woman, +both equally heart-wicked, inspiring one another with a transient +passion, that lasts long enough to make man and wife of them, but rarely +outlives the honeymoon. Such was the story of the couple in question. + +The stormy scene described was far from being the first. It was but one +of the squalls almost daily occurring between them. + +The calm succeeding such a violent gust could not be continuous. A +cloud so dark could not be dissipated without a further discharge of +electricity. + +It came; the last speaker, as if least satisfied, resuming the +discourse. + +"And supposing you _had_ married your lady--I know whom you mean--that +old scratch, Lady C--, what a nice time the two of you would have had of +it! She could only have kissed you at the risk of losing her front +teeth, or swallowing them. Ha! ha! ha!" + +"Lady C--be hanged! I could have had half a score of titled ladies; +some of them as young, and just as good-looking, is you!" + +"Boasting braggart! 'Tis false, and you know it! Good-looking as _me_! +How you've changed your tune! You know I was called the `Belle of +Brompton!' Thank heaven, I don't need you to satisfy me of my good +looks. Men of ten times your taste have pronounced upon them; _and may +yet_!" + +The last speech was delivered in front of a cheval glass, before which +the speaker had stopped, as if to admire her person. + +Certainly the glass gave out an image that did not contradict what she +had said. + +"May yet!" echoed the satiated rake in a drawl, that betokened either +indifference, or its assumption. "I wish some of them _would_!" + +"Indeed! Then some of them _shall_!" + +"Oh! I'm agreeable. Nothing would give me greater pleasure. Thank +God! we've got into a country whose people take a common-sense view of +these questions, and where divorce can be obtained, not only on the +quiet, but cheaper than the licence itself! So far from standing in +your way, madam, I'll do all I can to assist you. I think we can +honestly plead `incompatibility of temper'?" + +"She'd be an angel that couldn't plead that with you." + +"There's no danger, then, of your being denied the plea, unless fallen +angels be excepted." + +"Mean insulter! Oh, mercy! to think I've thrown myself away on this +worthless man?" + +"Thrown yourself away? Ha! ha! ha! What were you when I found you? A +waif, if not worse. The darkest day of my life was that on which I +picked you up!" + +"Scoundrel!" + +The term "scoundrel" is the sure and close precursor of a climax. When +passed between two gentlemen, it not unfrequently leads to a mutual +pulling of noses. From a lady to a gentleman the result is of course +different, though in any case it conducts to a serious turn in the +conversation. Its effect in the present instance was to end it +altogether. + +With only an exclamation for rejoinder, the husband sprang to his feet, +and commenced pacing up and down one side of the room. The wife, +already engaged in like perambulation, had possession of the other. + +In silence they crossed and recrossed; at intervals exchanging angry +glances, like a tiger and tigress, making the tour of their cage. + +For ten minutes or more was this mute, unsocial promenade continued. + +The man was the first to tire of it, and once more resuming his seat, he +took a "regalia" from his case, set fire to the weed, and commenced +smoking. + +The woman, as if determined not to be outdone in the way of +indifference, produced _her_ cigar-case, selected from it a tiny +"queen," and, sinking down into a rocking-chair, sent forth a cloud of +smoke that soon rendered her almost as invisible as Juno in her +_nimbus_. + +There was no longer an exchange of glances--it was scarce possible--and +for ten minutes more not any of speech. The wife was silently nursing +her wrath, while the husband appeared to be engaged on some abstruse +problem that occupied all his intellect. At length an exclamation, +escaping involuntarily from his lips, seemed to declare its solution; +while the cheerful cast of his countenance, just perceptible through the +smoke, told of his having reached a conclusion that was satisfactory to +him. + +Taking the regalia from between his teeth, and puffing away the cloud +that intervened, he leant toward his wife, at the same time pronouncing +her name in diminutive-- + +"Fan!" + +The form, with the accent in which it was uttered, seemed to say that on +his side the storm had blown over. His chafed spirit had become +tranquillised under the influence of the nicotine. + +The wife, as if similarly affected, removed the "queen" from her lips; +and in a tone that smacked of forgiveness, gave out the rejoinder: + +"Dick!" + +"An idea has occurred to me," said he, resuming the conversation in a +shape entirely new. "A grand idea!" + +"Of its grandeur I have my doubts. I shall be better able to judge when +you've imparted it. You intend doing that, I perceive." + +"I do," he answered, without taking notice of the sarcasm. + +"Let's hear it, then." + +"Well, Fan, if there's anything in this world clearer than another, it's +that by getting married we've both made a mucker of it." + +"That's clear as daylight--to me at least." + +"Then you can't be offended if I take a similar view of the question. +We married one another for love. There we did a stupid thing, since +neither of us could afford it." + +"I suppose I know all that. Tell me something new." + +"More than stupid," pursued the worthless husband; "it was an act of +absolute madness!" + +"Most certainly, on my part." + +"On the part of both of us. Mind you, I don't say I repent making you +my wife. Only in one way, and that is because I've spoiled your chances +in life. I am aware you _could_ have married richer men." + +"Oh, you admit that, do you?" + +"I do. And you must admit I could have married richer women." + +"Lady Scratch, for example." + +"No matter. Lady Scratch could have kept me from this hard scratch for +a living, which promises to be still harder. You know there's no +resource left me but the little skill I've acquired in manipulating +pasteboard. I've come over here under the pleasant hallucination I +should find plenty of pigeons, and that the hawks only existed on our +side of the Atlantic. Well, I've been round with my introductions, and +what's the result? To discover that the dullest flat in New York would +be a sharp in the saloons of London. I've dropped a hundred pounds +already, and don't see much chance of taking them up again." + +"And what _do_ you see, Dick? What's this grand idea?" + +"Are you prepared to listen to a proposal?" + +"How condescending of you to ask me! Let me hear it. Whether I may +feel inclined to agree to it is another thing." + +"Well, my dear Fan, your own words have suggested it, so you can't +reproach me for originating it." + +"If it be an _idea_, you needn't fear that. What words, may I ask?" + +"You said you wished I _had_ married my lady." + +"I did. What is there in that?" + +"More than you think for. A whole world of meaning." + +"I meant what I said." + +"In spite only, Fan." + +"In earnest." + +"Ha, ha! I know you too well for that." + +"Do you? You flatter yourself, I think. Perhaps you may some day find +your mistake." + +"Not a bit of it. You love me too well. Fan, as I do you. It is just +for that I am going to make the proposal." + +"Out with it! I shan't like you any the better for thus tantalising me. +Come, Dick; you want me to grant something? What is it?" + +"Give me your permission to--" + +"To do what?" + +"_To get married again_!" + +The wife of twelve months started, as if struck by a shot. In her +glance there was anger and surprise, only subdued by interrogation. + +"Are you in earnest, Dick?" + +The inquiry was mechanical. She saw that he was. + +"Wait till you've heard me out," he rejoined, proceeding to the +explanation. + +She waited. + +"What I propose, then, is this: You leave me free to _get married +again_. More than that, give me your help to accomplish it--for our +mutual benefit. It's the very country for such a scheme; and I flatter +myself I'm the very man who may bring it to a satisfactory conclusion. +These Yankees have been growing rich. There are now scores--hundreds of +heiresses among them. Strange if I can't pick one of them up! They +must either be daintier than you, Fan, or else I've lost my +attractions." + +The appeal to her vanity, skilful though it was, failed to elicit a +rejoinder. She remained silent, permitting her husband to continue his +explanation. He continued: + +"It's no use shutting our eyes to the situation. We've both been +speaking the truth. We've made fools of ourselves. Your beauty has +been the means of spoiling _my_ chances in life; and my--well, good +looks, if I must say it--have done the same for _you_. It's been a +mutual love, and a reciprocal ruin--in short, a sell on both sides." + +"True enough. Go on?" + +"The prospect before us! I, the son of a poor prebend; you--well, it's +no use to talk of family affairs. We came over here in hopes of +bettering our condition. The land of milk and honey turns out to be but +gall and bitterness. We've but one hundred pounds left. When that's +gone, what next, Fan?" + +Fan could not tell. + +"We may expect but slight consideration for gentility here," continued +the adventurer. "Our cash once spent, what can I do--or what you? I +know of nothing, except to take hold of the delicate ribbons of a street +hack; while you must attune your musical ear to the tinkle of a +sewing-machine, or the creaking of a mangle. By heaven! there'll be no +help for it?" + +The _ci-devant_ belle of Brompton, appalled by the prospect, started up +from the rocking-chair, and once more commenced pacing the room. + +Suddenly she stopped, and, turning to her husband, inquired: + +"_Do you intend to be true to me, Dick_?" + +The question was put in an eager, earnest tone. + +Equally earnest was the answer: + +"Of course I do. How can you doubt me, Fan? We're both alike +interested in the speculation. You may trust me as steel!" + +"I agree to it, then, Dick. But dread steel if you betray me!" + +Dick answered the threat with a light laugh; at the same time imprinting +a Judas kiss on the lips that had pronounced it! + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN. + +A DUTIFUL DAUGHTER. + +"An officer just returned from Mexico--a captain, or something of the +sort, in one of the regiments raised for the war. Of course, a nobody!" + +It was the storekeeper's relict who spoke. + +"Did you hear his name, mamma?" murmured Julia. + +"Certainly, my dear. The clerk pointed it out on the hotel register-- +Maynard." + +"Maynard! If it be the Captain Maynard spoken of in the papers, he's +not such a nobody. At least the despatches do not say so. Why, it was +he who led the forlorn hope at C--, besides being first over the bridge +at some other place with an unpronounceable name?" + +"Stuff about forlorn hopes and bridges! That won't help him, now that +he is out of the service, and his regiment disbanded. Of course he'll +be without either pension or pay, besides a _soupcon_ of his having +empty pockets. I got so much out of the servant who waits upon him." + +"He is to be pitied for that." + +"Pity him as much as you like, my dear; but don't let it go any further. +Heroes are all very well in their way, when they've got the dollars to +back 'em up. Without these they don't count for much now-a-days; and +rich girls don't go marrying them any more." + +"Ha! ha! ha! Who thinks of marrying him?" Daughter and niece +simultaneously asked the question. + +"No flirtations neither," gravely rejoined Mrs Girdwood. "I won't +allow them--certainly not with him." + +"And why not with him, as much as any one else, most honoured mother?" + +"Many reasons. We don't know who or what he may be. He don't appear to +have the slightest acquaintance with any one in the place; and no one is +acquainted with him. He's a stranger in this country, and believed to +be Irish." + +"Oh, aunt! I should not think any the worse of him for that. My own +father was Irish." + +"Whatever he may be, he's a brave man, and a gallant one," quietly +rejoined Julia. + +"And a handsome one, too!" added Cornelia, with a sly glance towards her +cousin. + +"I should think," pursued Julia, "that he who has climbed a +scaling-ladder--to say nothing about the bridge--and who afterward, at +the risk of his life, pulls two not very light young ladies up the face +of a perpendicular precipice, might dispense with any farther +introduction to society; even to the J.'s, the L.'s, and the B.'s--the +`_cream_,' as they call themselves." + +"Pff!" scornfully exclaimed the mother. "Any gentleman would have done +the same; and would have done it for any lady. Why, he made no +difference between you and Keziah, who is almost as heavy as both of you +in a bundle!" + +The remark caused the two young ladies to break forth into a fit of +laughter; for they remembered at the time they had been saved from their +peril the ludicrous look of the negress as she was drawn up to the crest +of the cliff. Had she not been the last in the ascent, their +remembrance of it might have been less vivid. + +"Well, girls; I'm glad to see that you enjoy it. You may laugh as much +as you like; but I'm in earnest. There must be no marrying in such a +quarter as that, nor flirting either. I don't want either of you talked +about. As for you, Corneel, I don't pretend to exercise any control +over you. Of course you can act as you please." + +"And I cannot?" quickly inquired the imperious Julia. + +"Yes you can, my dear. Marry Captain Maynard, or any other man who +suits your fancy. But if you do so without my consent, you may make up +your mind to be contented with your pin-money. Remember that the +million left by your father is mine for life." + +"Indeed!" + +"Ay! And if you act against my wishes, I shall live thirty years +longer, to spite you--fifty if I can!" + +"Well, mamma; I can't say but that you're candid. A charming prospect, +should it please me to disobey you?" + +"But you won't, Julia?" said Mrs Girdwood, coaxingly, "you won't. You +know better than that: else your dear mother's teaching has been so much +waste time and trouble. But talking of time," continued the "dear +mother," as she drew a jewelled watch from her belt, "in two hours the +ball will begin. Go to your room, and get dressed." + +Cornelia, obedient to the command, tripped out into the corridor, and, +gliding along it, turned into the apartment occupied by herself and +cousin. + +Julia, on the contrary, walked on to the balcony outside. + +"Plague take the ball!" said she, raising her arms in a yawn. "I'd a +thousand times rather go to bed?" + +"And why, you silly child?" inquired her mother, who had followed her +out. + +"Mother, you know why! It will be just the same as at the last one--all +alone among those impertinent people. I hate them! How I should like +to humiliate them!" + +"To-night you shall do that, my dear." + +"How, mamma?" + +"By wearing my diamond head-dress. The last present your dear father +gave me. It cost him a twenty thousand dollar cheque! If we could only +ticket the price upon the diamonds, how they would glitter in their +envious eyes. Never mind; I should think they'll be sharp enough to +guess it. Now, my girl, that will humiliate them!" + +"Not much." + +"Not much! Twenty thousand dollars worth of diamonds! There isn't such +a tiara in the States. There won't be anything like it at the ball. As +diamonds are in full fashion now, it will give you no end of a triumph; +at all events, enough to satisfy you for the present. Perhaps when we +come back here again, we may have the diamonds set in a still more +attractive shape." + +"How?" + +"_In a coronet_!" replied the mother, whispering the words in her +daughter's ear. + +Julia Girdwood started, as if the speech had been an interpretation of +her own thought. Brought up amid boundless wealth, she had been +indulged in every luxury for which gold may be exchanged; but there was +one which even gold could not purchase--an _entree_ into that mystic +circle called "society"--a mingling with the _creme de la creme_. + +Even in the free-and-easy atmosphere of a watering-place, she felt that +she was excluded. She had discovered, as had also her mother, that +Newport was too fashionable for the family of a New York retail +storekeeper, however successful he may have been in disposing of his +commodities. What her mother had just said was like the realisation of +a vague vision already floating in her fancy; and the word "coronet" had +more effect in spoiling the chances of Captain Maynard, than would have +been the longest maternal lecture on any other text. + +The mother well knew this. She had not trained her dear Julia to +romantic disobedience. But at that moment it occurred to her that the +nail wanted clinching; and she proceeded to hammer it home. + +"A coronet, my love; and why not? There are lords in England, and +counts in France, scores of them, glad to grasp at such expectations as +yours. A million of dollars, and beauty besides--you needn't blush, +daughter--two things not often tacked together, nor to be picked up +every day in the streets--either of London or Paris. A prize for a +prince! And now, Julia, one word more. I shall be candid, and tell you +the truth. It is for this purpose, and this only, I intend taking you +to Europe. Promise to keep your heart free, and give your hand to the +man I select for you, and on your wedding-day I shall make over one-half +of the estate left by your late father!" + +The girl hesitated. Perhaps she was thinking of her late rescuer? But +if Maynard was in her mind, the interest he had gained there could only +have been slight--certainly not strong enough to hold its place against +the tempting terms thus held out to her. Besides, Maynard might not +care for her. She had no reason to suppose that he did. And under this +doubt, she had less difficulty in shaping her reply. + +"I am serious upon this matter," urged the ambitious mother. "Quite as +much as you am I disgusted with the position we hold here. To think +that the most worthless descendants of one of `the old signers' should +deem it a condescension to marry my daughter! Ach! not one of them +_shall_--with my consent." + +"Without that, mother, I shall not marry." + +"Good girl! you shall have the wedding gift I promised you. And +to-night you shall not only wear my diamonds, but I make you free to +call them your own. Go in--get them on?" + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT. + +A NOBLEMAN INCOG. + +The strange dialogue thus terminated took place in front of the window +of Mrs Girdwood's apartment. It was in the night; a night starless and +calm, and of course favourable to the eavesdroppers. + +There was one. + +In the room right above was a gentleman who had that day taken +possession. + +He had come by the night-boat from New York, and entered his name on the +register as "Swinton," with the modest prefix of Mr Attached were the +words "and servant"--the latter represented by a dark-haired, +dark-complexioned youth, dressed after the fashion of a footman, or +_valet du voyage_. + +To Newport, Mr Swinton appeared to be a stranger; and had spent most of +that day in exploring the little city founded by Coddington, and full of +historic recollections. + +Though conversing with nearly everybody he met, he evidently knew no +one; and as evidently no one knew him. + +Want of politeness to a stranger would not comport with the character of +Newport people; especially when that stranger had all the appearance of +an accomplished gentleman, followed at respectful distance by a +well-dressed and obsequious servant. + +Those with whom he came in contact had but one thought: + +"A distinguished visitor." + +There was nothing in the appearance of Mr Swinton to contradict the +supposition. He was a man who had seen some thirty summers, with no +signs to show that they had been unpleasantly spent. Amidst his glossy +curls of dark auburn colour, the eye could not detect a single strand of +grey; and if the crow had set its claw upon his face, the track could +not be observed. Under a well-cultivated whisker uniting to the +moustache upon his lips--in short the facial tonsure which distinguishes +the _habitue_ of the Horse Guards. There could be no mistaking him for +any other than a "Britisher"; and as such was he set down, both by the +citizens of the town, and the guests at the hotel. + +The meal called "tea-supper" being over, and the stranger, having +nothing better to do, was leaning out of the window of his sleeping +room, on the fourth storey--tranquilly smoking a cigar. + +A conversation that occurred between himself and his servant--exhibiting +on the one side condescension, on the other a strange familiarity--need +not be repeated. It had ended; and the servant had thrown himself, +_sans facon_, on a sofa; while the master, with arms resting on the +window-sill, continued to inspire the perfume of the nicotian weed, +along with the iodised air that came up from the _algae_ of the ocean. + +The tranquil scene was favourable to reflection, and thus Mr Swinton +reflected: + +"Deuced nice place! Devilish pretty girls! Hope I'll find one of them +who's got money, and command of it as well. Sure to be some old hag +here with a well-filled stocking, though it may take time to discover +it. Let me get a glance at her cornucopia, and if I don't turn the +small end upward, then--then I shall believe what I have heard of these +Yankee dames: that they hold their purse-strings tighter than do their +simple cousins of England. Several heiresses about, I've heard. One or +two with something like a million a piece--dollars, of course. Five +dollars to the pound. Let me see! A million of dollars makes two +hundred thousand pounds. Well! that would do, or even the half of it. +I wonder if that good-looking girl, with the maternal parent attached to +her, has got any blunt? A little love mixed with the play would make my +game all the more agreeable. Ah! What's below? The shadows of women +from an open window, the occupants of the apartment underneath. Talking +they are. If they would only come out on the balcony, there would be +some chance of my hearing them. I'm just in the humour for listening to +a little scandal; and if they're anything like their sex on the other +side of the Atlantic, that's sure to be the theme. By Jove! they're +coming out! Just to oblige me." + +It was just at this moment that Cornelia retired to her room, and Mrs +Girdwood, following her daughter, took stand upon the balcony to +continue the conversation which had been carried on inside. + +Favoured by the calm night, and the natural law of acoustics, Mr +Swinton heard every word that was said--even to the softest whisper. + +In order to secure himself against being seen, he had withdrawn behind +the Venetian shutter of his own window, and stood with his ear against +the open lath-work, listening with all the intentness of a spy. + +When the dialogue came to an end, he craned out, and saw that the young +lady had gone inside, but that the mother still remained standing in the +balcony. + +Once more quietly drawing back, and summoning the valet to his side, he +talked for some minutes in a low, hurried tone--as if giving the servant +some instructions of an important nature. + +Then putting on his hat, and throwing a light surtout over his +shoulders, he hastened out of the room. + +The servant followed; but not until an interval had elapsed. + +In a few seconds after, the Englishman might have been seen sauntering +out upon the balcony with a careless air, and taking his stand within a +few feet of where the rich widow stood leaning over the rail. + +He made no attempt to address her. Without introduction, there would +have been a certain rudeness in it. Nor was his face toward her, but to +the sea, as if he had stopped to contemplate the light upon the +Cormorant Rock, gleaming all the more brilliantly from the contrasted +darkness of the night. + +At that moment a figure of short stature appeared behind him, giving a +slight cough, as if to attract his attention. It was the servant. + +"My lord," said the latter, speaking in a low tone--though loud enough +to be heard by Mrs Girdwood. + +"Aw--Fwank--what is it?" + +"What dress will your lordship wear at the ball?" + +"Aw--aw--plain bwack, of cawse. A white chawker." + +"What gloves, your lordship? White or straw?" + +"Stwaw--stwaw." + +The servant, touching his hat, retired. + +"His lordship," as Mr Swinton appeared to be, returned to his tranquil +contemplation of the light upon Cormorant Rock. + +There was no longer tranquillity for the relict of the retail +storekeeper. Those magic words, "my lord," had set her soul in a +flutter. A live lord within six feet of her. Gracious me! + +It is the lady's privilege to speak first, as also to break through the +boundaries of reserve. And of this Mrs Girdwood was not slow to avail +herself. + +"You are a stranger, sir, I presume--to our country, as well as to +Newport?" + +"Aw--yes, madam--indeed, yes. I came to yaw beautiful country by the +last steemaw. I arrived at Noopawt this morning, by bawt from Nooyawk." + +"I hope your lordship will like Newport. It is our most fashionable +watering-place." + +"Aw; sawtingly I shall--sawtingly. But, madam, you adwess me as yaw +ludship. May I ask why I have the honaw to be so entitled?" + +"Oh, sir; how could I avoid giving you the title, after hearing your +servant so address you?" + +"Aw, Fwank, stoopid fellaw! doose take him! Pawdon me, madam, faw +seeming woodness. I vewy much wegwet the occurrence. I am twavelling +_incognito_. You, madam, will understand what a baw it is--especially +in yaw fwee land of libawty, to have one's self pawpetwally pointed out? +A howed baw, I assure yaw?" + +"No doubt it is. I can easily understand that, my lord." + +"Thanks, madam! I am vewy much indebted to yaw intelligence. But I +must ask a still greater fayvaw at your hands. By the stoopidity of my +fellaw, I am completely in yaw power. I pwesume I am talking to a lady. +In fact I am shaw of it." + +"I hope so, my lord." + +"Then, madam, the fayvaw I would ask is, that yaw keep this little +secwet abawt ma title. Pway am I asking too much?" + +"Not at all, sir; not at all." + +"Yaw pwomise me?" + +"I promise you, my lord." + +"How vewy kind! A hundwed thousand thanks, madam! I shall be fawever +gwateful. P'waps yaw are going to the bawl to-night?" + +"I intend so, my lord. I go with my daughter and niece." + +"Aw--aw. I hope I shall have the plesyaw of seeing yaw. As I am a +stwanger here, of cawse I know naw one. I go out of meaw quyuosity, or +rather I should say, to observe yaw national cawactewistics." + +"Oh, sir; _you_ need be no stranger. If you wish to dance, and will +accept as partners my niece and daughter, I can promise that both will +be most happy." + +"Madam, yaw ovawwhelm me with yaw genewosity." + +The dialogue here came to an end. It was time to dress for the ball; +and, with a low bow on the part of the lord, and an obsequious courtesy +on the side of the lady, they separated--expecting to come together +again under the sheen of the chandeliers. + + + +CHAPTER NINE. + +AVANT LE BAL. + +Terpsichore, at a fashionable watering-place in the New World, affects +pretty much the same airs as in the Old. + +In a ball-room, where all are not supposed to be _best people_, the +solitary gentlemen-stranger finds but little opportunity of taking +exercise--especially in the "square-dances." As the coteries make the +sets, and monopolise the choicest portions of the floor, when the room +is crowded and everybody determined to dance, the unlucky wight, without +acquaintances, finds himself sadly overlooked. The stewards are usually +too much occupied with themselves, to remember those honorary duties +represented by rosette or ribbon in the buttonhole. + +When it comes to the "round," the stranger stands a better chance. It +is only a matter of mutual consent between two individuals; and he must +be a very insignificant personage, indeed, who cannot then find some +neglected wallflower willing to accommodate him. + +Something of this frigidity might have been felt in the atmosphere of a +Newport ball-room; even in those days, _ante bellum_, when shoddy was a +thing unheard-of, and "ile" lay "unstruck" in the dark underground. + +Something of it _was_ felt by the young officer lately returned from +Mexico, and who was in fact a greater stranger to the "society" of the +country for which he had been fighting, than to that against which he +had fought! + +In both he was but a traveller--half-wandering waif, half-adventurer-- +guided in his peregrinations less by interest than inclination. + +To go dancing among unknown people is about the dullest occupation to +which a traveller can betake himself; unless the dance be one of the +free kind, where introductions are easy--morris, masque, or fandango. + +Maynard knew, or conjectured, this to be true of Newport, as elsewhere. +But for all that, he had determined on going to the ball. + +It was partly out of curiosity; partly to kill time; and perhaps not a +little for the chance of again meeting the two girls with whom he had +been so romantically made acquainted. + +He had seen them several times since--at the dinner-table, and +elsewhere; but only at a distance, and without claiming the privilege of +his _outre_ introduction. + +He was too proud to throw himself in their way. Besides, it was for +them to make the advance, and say whether the acquaintance was to be +kept up. + +They did not! Two days had passed, and they did not--either by speech, +epistle, bow, or courtesy! + +"What am I to make of these people?" soliloquised he. + +"They must be the veriest--" He was going to say "snobs," when checked +by the thought that they were ladies. + +Besides, such an epithet to Julia Girdwood! (He had taken pains to make +himself acquainted with her name.) Not more inappropriate than if +applied to a countess or a queen! + +With all his gallantry he could not help some spasms of chagrin; the +keener, that, go where he would, Julia Girdwood seemed to go along with +him. Her splendid face and figure appeared ever before him. + +To what was he to attribute this indifference--it might be called +ingratitude on her part? + +Could it be explained by the promise exacted from him upon the cliff? + +This might make it in some way excusable. He had since seen the girls +only with their maternal guardian--a dame of severe aspect. Had the +secret to be kept from _her_! And was this the reason why they were +preserving distance? + +It was probable. He had some pleasure in thinking so; but more, when +once or twice, he detected Julia's dark eyes strangely gazing upon him, +and instantly withdrawn, as his became turned upon her. + +"The play's the thing, wherewith to touch the conscience of the king," +Hamlet declared. + +The ball! It promised a clearing up of this little mystery, with +perhaps some others. He would be sure to meet them there--mother, +daughter, niece--all three! It would be strange if he could not +introduce himself; but if not, he must trust to the stewards. + +And to the ball he went; dressed with as much taste as the laws of +fashion would allow--in those days liberal enough to permit of a white +waistcoat. + +With only an occasional interval--transient as the scintillation of a +meteor--it has been black ever since! + +The ball-room was declared open. + +Carriages were setting down by the piazza of the Ocean House, and silks +rustling along the corridors of that most select of caravanserais. + +From the grand dining-saloon, cleared for the occasion (and when +cleared, making a dancing-room worthy of Terpsichore herself), came +those not very harmonious sounds that tell of the tuning of fiddles, and +clearing out the throats of trombones. + +The Girdwood party entered with considerable _eclat_--the mother dressed +like a grand-duchess, though without her diamonds. These blazed upon +the brow of Julia, and sparkled on her snow white bosom--for the set +comprised a necklace with pendants. + +She was otherwise splendidly attired; and, in truth, looked superb. The +cousin of more modest grace and means, though pretty, seemed as nothing +beside her. + +Mrs Girdwood had made a mistake--in coming in too early. It is true +there were fashionable people already in the room. But these were the +"organisers" of the entertainment; who, backed by a sort of +semi-official authority, had gathered in little groups over the floor, +scanning across fans, or through eye-glasses, the dancers as they came +in. + +Through these the Girdwoods had to run the gauntlet--as they made their +way to the upper end of the room. + +They did so with success, though not without being aware of some +supercilious glances, accompanied by whispered words that, if heard, +might have somewhat disconcerted them. + +It was the second Newport ball--"hops" count for nothing--at which Mrs +Girdwood and her girls had shown themselves. + +The first had not given great satisfaction--more especially to Julia. + +But there was a better prospect now. Mrs Girdwood had entered, with a +confidence based on the conversation she had just held with the +distinguished _incognito_, Mr Swinton. + +She had seen this gentleman during the day: for, as already known, he +had not shut himself up in his room. She was sufficiently discerning to +see that he was possessed of a fine face and figure. His hair, too--of +the most aristocratic kind! How could it be otherwise? She alone knew +the reason--she and her daughter; to whom she had, of course, +communicated the secret of her discovery. A bit of broken promise that +need not be severely criticised. + +She knew of my lord's late arrival--from Canada he had told her--though +he had paid a flying visit to New York. + +She hoped no one in the ball-room would recognise him--at least not till +after she had paraded him with her own party, and could assume the +seeming of his introducer. + +She had still stronger reason for this. Storekeeper's widow, as she +was, she possessed the true tact of the match-making mother. It belongs +to no clime exclusively; no country. It can be as well acquired in New +York as in London, Vienna, or Paris. She was a believer in first +impressions--with the "compromises" that often spring from them; and in +this theory--with the view of putting it into practice--she had +instructed her dear Julia while dressing her for the ball. + +The daughter had promised compliance. Who wouldn't, with the prospect +of earning twenty thousand dollars' worth of diamonds? + + + +CHAPTER TEN. + +A PREVIOUS ENGAGEMENT. + +In all the gradations of the thermal line, is there any atmosphere more +unbearable than that of a ball-room before the dancing commences? + +It is the very essence of discomfort. + +What a relief when the baton of the conductor is seen elevated over his +acolytes, and those strains, proverbially soothing to the savage, +resound through the glittering saloon! + +It was a relief to Mrs Girdwood and her girls. They had begun to fancy +themselves _too much observed_. At least Julia had, half suspecting +herself of being the subject of a cynical criticism, which she did not +think of attributing to her diamonds. + +She was burning with an ill-repressed spleen, by no means diminished as +the sets commenced forming, and no one came forward to claim either +herself or her cousin. + +At that moment appeared a man whose presence changed the current of her +thoughts. It was Maynard. + +In spite of her mother's precautionary counsels, Miss Girdwood could not +look upon this gentleman with indifference. To say nothing of what had +passed between them, a glance satisfied her that there was no handsomer +man in the room, or likely to come into it. + +He was approaching from the entrance, apparently making his way toward +the Girdwood group. + +Julia wondered whether he was going to join them. She hoped that he +would. + +"I suppose I may dance with him, mother--that is, if he asks me?" + +"Not yet, my dear, not yet. Wait a little longer. His lordship--Mr +Swinton--may come in at any moment. You _must_ have the first with him. +I wonder why he's not here," pursued the impatient parent, for the +tenth time raising her eye-glass and taking a survey of the saloon. "I +suppose it's not fashionable for men of rank to come in early. No +matter, Julia; you must reserve yourself till the last moment." + +But the last moment had now arrived. The introductory piece had been +played and was succeeded by the hum of half-whispered voices, and the +rustling of silk dresses--by that movement which precedes the taking of +places--gentlemen gliding in short stages across the slippery floor, +formally bending in front of expanded skirts, and mincing out the +well-known speech, "May I have the pleasure?" Then a momentary show of +irresolution on the part of the lady, perhaps the consulting of a slip +of cardboard, an inclination of the head so slight as to be scarce +observable, a rising to the feet, with the greatest apparent reluctance, +and lastly the acceptance of the offered arm, as if conferring the +supremest of favours! + +Neither of the young ladies under Mrs Girdwood's care had been yet +called upon to take part in this pantomime. Certainly the stewards were +not doing their duty. There were no finer-looking girls in the room, +and there were scores of gentlemen who would have been delighted to +dance with them. Their standing neglected could be only an accidental +oversight. + +The storekeeper's widow began to find it disagreeable. She felt +inclined to be less exacting about the description of partners. As +there was no lord in sight, the ex-officer would not be much longer +objected to. + +"Does he intend coming at all?" she reflected, thinking of Swinton. + +"Does he intend coming to us?" was the reflection of Julia, her thoughts +dwelling upon Maynard. + +Her eyes, too, were on him. He was still approaching, though slowly. +He was hindered by the hurrying couples as they took position on the +floor. But she could see that he was looking toward them--herself and +cousin--where they stood. + +He evidently approached with an air of indecision, his glance appearing +to interrogate them. + +It must have been met by one of encouragement, for his demeanour became +suddenly changed and stepping up to the two young ladies, he saluted +them with a bow. + +By both the salutation was returned, perhaps more cordially than he had +been expecting. + +Both appeared to be still unengaged. To which ought he to offer +himself? He knew which he would have chosen, but there was a question +of etiquette. + +As it turned out, there was no question of choice. + +"Julia, my dear," said Mrs Girdwood, presenting a very +stylishly-dressed individual, who had just been given in charge to her +by one of the stewards. "I hope you have not engaged yourself for the +quadrille? I've promised you to this gentleman. Mr Smithson--my +daughter." + +Julia glanced at Smithson, and then looked as if she wished him far +enough. + +But she had not engaged herself, and was therefore compelled to accept. + +Lest a second Mr Smithson should be trotted up, Maynard hastened to +secure Cornelia, and led her off to form "opposite couple." + +Seemingly satisfied with the disposal thus made, Mrs Girdwood retired +to a seat. + +Her contentment was of short continuance. She had scarce touched the +cushion, when she saw coming towards her a gentleman of distinguished +appearance, in straw kids. It was his lordship _incog_. + +She started back to her feet, and glanced across the room toward the +square that contained her girls. She looked interrogatively, then +despairingly. It was too late. The quadrille had commenced. Mr +Smithson was doing "right and left" with her daughter. Confound Mr +Smithson! + +"Aw, madam! How'd do, again? Ball begun, I pawceive; and I'm cut out +of the kadwille." + +"It is true, Mr Swinton; you've come in a little late, sir." + +"What a baw! I pwesume yaw young ladies are disposed of?" + +"Yes; they are dancing over yonder." + +Mrs Girdwood pointed them out. Adjusting his eye-glass, Mr Swinton +looked across the room. His eye wandered in search of Mrs Girdwood's +daughter. He did not think of the niece. And his inquiry was directed +more to Julia's partner than herself. + +A single look seemed to satisfy him. Mr Smithson was not the man to +make him uneasy. + +"I hope, madam," he said, turning to the mother, "I hope Miss Girdwood +has not filled up her cawd for the evening?" + +"Oh, certainly not, sir!" + +"Pewaps for the next--I pawceive by the pawgwam a valz--pwaps I might +have the honour of valzing with her? May I bespeak yaw influence in my +behalf; that is, if there be no pwevious engagement?" + +"I know there is none. I can promise you that, sir; my daughter will no +doubt be most happy to waltz with you." + +"Thanks, madam! A thousand thanks?" + +And, this point settled, the amiable nobleman continued to talk to the +relict of the retail storekeeper with as much amiability as if she had +been his equal in rank. + +Mrs Girdwood was delighted with him. How much superior this sprig of +true British nobility to the upstart bloods of New York or Boston! +Neither the Old Dominion, nor South Carolina itself, could produce such +a charming creature! What a rare stroke of good fortune to have chanced +so timeously across him! Blessings upon the head of that "Stoopid +fellaw, Fwank!" as his lordship had styled the little valet. + +Frank was entitled to a present, which some day Mrs Girdwood had +mentally determined upon giving him. + +Julia engaged for the next! Certainly not! Nor the next, nor the next. +She should dance with him all night long if he desired it. And if it +were to be so, how she would like to be released from that promise, and +let all Newport know that Mr Swinton was--a lord! + +So ran Mrs Girdwood's thoughts--kept, of course, to herself. + +In a quadrille, the opportunities of the _vis-a-vis_ are only inferior +to those of the partner. Maynard had improved his by engaging Julia +Girdwood for the waltz! With this understanding they had separated upon +the floor. + +In less than ten minutes after a group might have, been observed on one +side of the ball-room, consisting of two ladies and two gentlemen, who +seemed to have some crooked question between them--a scene. + +The ladies were Mrs Girdwood and her daughter; the gentlemen, Messrs. +Maynard and Swinton. + +All four had just come together; the two last without exchanging speech +or bow, but exhibiting in the exchanged glances sufficient sign of +mutual recognition--sign, too, of some old antipathy. + +In the confusion of the moment, Mrs Girdwood did not observe this. Her +daughter did. + +What was the trouble among them? + +The conversation will explain it. + +"Julia, my dear"--it was Mrs Girdwood who spoke--"I've engaged you for +the first waltz--to Mr Swinton here. Mr Swinton--my daughter." + +The introduction had just ended as Maynard, coming forward to claim his +promised partner, formed the fourth corner in the quartette. The music +was commencing. + +The hostile "stare" exchanged between the two gentlemen lasted only a +second, when the young officer, recomposing his countenance, turned +toward Miss Girdwood, at the same time offering his arm. + +Yielding obedience to an authoritative look from her mother the lady +appeared to hesitate about accepting it. + +"You will excuse my daughter, sir," said Mrs Girdwood, "she is already +engaged." + +"Indeed!" exclaimed the ex-captain, looking grandly astonished at the +mother, and turning to the daughter for an explanation. + +"I think not, mamma?" answered Julia, with an air of indecision. + +"But you have, my child! You know I had promised you to Mr Swinton +here, before the ball began. It is very awkward! I hope, sir, you will +excuse her?" + +The last speech was addressed to Maynard. + +He glanced once more toward Julia. She seemed still undecided. But her +look might be translated, "Excuse me." + +So interpreting it, he said: + +"If it be Miss Girdwood's wish, I release her." + +Again he fixed his eyes upon her face, watching for the movement of her +lips. + +There was none! + +Silence appeared to give consent. Forcibly the old adage came before +Maynard's mind--so forcibly, that with a bow, which comprehended the +trio, he turned upon his heel, and disappeared among the dancers. + +In six seconds after, Julia Girdwood was whirling around the room, her +flushed cheek resting upon the shoulder of a man known to nobody, but +whose dancing everybody admired. + +"Who is the distinguished stranger?" was the inquiry on every lip. It +was even put--lispingly of course--by the J.'s and the L.'s and the +B.'s. + +Mrs Girdwood would have given a thousand dollars to have satisfied +their curiosity--to have spited them with the knowledge that her +daughter was dancing with a _lord_! + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN. + +BALL-ROOM EMOTIONS. + +In addition to the "bar" at which you settle your hotel account, the +Ocean House has another, exclusively devoted to drinking. + +It is a snug, shady affair, partially subterranean, and reached by a +stairway, trodden only by the worshippers of Bacchus. + +Beyond this limited circle its locality is scarcely known. + +In this underground region the talk of gentlemen, who have waxed warm +over their cups, may be carried on ever so rudely, without danger of its +reaching the delicate ears of those fair sylphs skimming through the +corridors above. + +This is as it should be; befitting a genteel establishment, such as the +Ocean House undoubtedly is; adapted also to the ascetic atmosphere of +New England. + +The Puritan prefers taking his drink "on the quiet." + +On ball nights, the bar-room in question is more especially patronised, +not only by the guests of the House, but outsiders from other hotels, +and "the cottages." + +Terpsichore is a thirsty creature--one of the best customers of Bacchus; +and, after dancing, usually sends a crowd of worshippers to the shrine +of the jolly god. + +At the Ocean House balls, drink can be had upstairs, champagne and other +light wines, with jellies and ices; but only underground are you +permitted to do your imbibing to the accompaniment of a cigar. + +For this reason many of the gentlemen dancers, at intervals, descended +the stairway that led to the drinking-saloon. + +Among others was Maynard, smarting under his discomfiture. + +"A brandy smash!" he demanded, pausing in front of the bar. + +"Of all men, Dick Swinton!" soliloquised he while waiting for the +mixture. "It's true, then, that he's been turned out of his regiment. +No more than he deserved, and I expected. Confound the scamp! I wonder +what's brought him out here? Some card-sharping expedition, I suppose-- +a _razzia_ on the pigeon-roosts of America! Apparently under the +patronage of Girdwood _mere_, and evidently in pursuit of Girdwood +_fille_. How has he got introduced to them? I'd bet high they don't +know much about him." + +"Brandy smash, mister?" + +"Well!" he continued, as if tranquillised by a pull at the iced mixture +and the narcotic smell of the mint. "It's no business of mine; and +after what's passed, I don't intend making it. They can have him at +their own price. _Caveat emptor_. For this little _contretemps_ I +needn't blame him, though I'd give twenty dollars to have an excuse for +tweaking his nose!" + +Captain Maynard was anything but a quarrelsome man. He only thought in +this strain, smarting under his humiliation. + +"It must have been the doing of the mother, who for a son-in-law prefers +Mr Swinton to me. Ha! ha! ha! If she only knew him as I do?" + +Another gulp out of the glass. + +"But the girl was a consenting party. Clearly so; else why should she +have hung fire about giving me an answer? Cut out by Dick Swinton! The +devil?" + +A third pull at the brandy smash. + +"Hang it! It won't do to declare myself defeated. They'd think so, if +I didn't go back to the ball-room! And what am I to do there? I don't +know a single feminine in the room and to wander about like some forlorn +and forsaken spirit would but give them a chance for sneering at me. +The ungrateful wretches! Perhaps I shouldn't be so severe on the little +blonde I might dance with her? But, no! I shall not go near them. I +must trust to the stewards to provide me with something in the shape of +a partner." + +He once more raised the glass to his lips, this time to be emptied. + +Then, ascending the stairs, he sauntered back to the hall-room. + +He was lucky in his intercession with the gentlemen in rosettes. He +chanced upon one to whom his name was not unknown; and through the +intercession of this gentleman found partners in plenty. + +He had one for every dance--waltz, quadrille, polka, and schottishe-- +some of the "sweetest creatures" on the floor. + +In such companionship he should have forgotten Julia Girdwood. + +And yet he did not. + +Strange she should continue to attract him! There were others fair as +she--perhaps fairer; but throughout the kaleidoscopic changes of that +glittering throng, his eyes were continually searching for the woman who +had given him only chagrin. He saw her dancing with a man he had good +reason to despise--all night long dancing with him, observed by +everybody, and by many admired. + +In secret unpleasantness Maynard watched this splendid woman; but it was +the acme of bitterness when he saw her give ear to the whisperings of +Richard Swinton, and lean her cheek upon his shoulder as they whirled +around the room, keeping time to the voluptuous strains of the +Cellarius. + +Again occurred to him the same thought: "I'd give twenty dollars to have +an excuse for tweaking his nose!" + +He did not know that, at less cost, and without seeking it, he was near +to the opportunity. + +Perhaps he would have sought it, but for a circumstance that turned up +just in time to tranquillise him. + +He was standing by the entrance, close to a set screen. The Girdwoods +were retiring from the room, Julia leaning on the arm of Swinton. As +she approached the spot he saw that her eyes were upon him. He +endeavoured to read their expression. Was it scornful? Or tender? + +He could not tell. Julia Girdwood was a girl who had rare command of +her countenance. + +Suddenly, as if impressed by some bold thought, or perhaps a pang of +repentance, she let go the arm of her partner, dropping behind, and +leaving him to proceed with the others. Then swerving a little, so as +to pass close to where Maynard stood, she said, in a hurried +half-whisper: + +"Very unkind of you to desert us!" + +"Indeed!" + +"You should have come back for an explanation," added she, +reproachfully. "I could not help it." + +Before he could make reply she was gone; but the accent of reproach left +tingling in his ear was anything but disagreeable. + +"A strange girl this!" muttered he, in astonished soliloquy. "Most +certainly an original! After all, perhaps, not so ungrateful. It may +have been due to the mother." + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE. + +"APRES LE BAL." + +The ball was almost over; the flagged and flagging dancers rapidly +retiring. The belles were already gone, and among them Julia Girdwood. +Only the wallflowers, yet comparatively fresh, were stirring upon the +floor. To them it was the time of true enjoyment; for it is they who +"dance all night till broad daylight." + +Maynard had no motive for remaining after Miss Girdwood was gone. It +was, in truth, she who had retained him. But with a spirit now stirred +by conflicting emotions, there would be little chance of sleep; and he +resolved, before retiring to his couch, to make one more sacrifice at +the shrine of Bacchus. + +With this intent, he again descended the stairway leading to the cellar +saloon. + +On reaching the basement, he saw that he had been preceded by a score of +gentlemen, who, like himself, had come down from the ball-room. + +They were standing in knots--drinking, smoking, conversing. + +Scarce giving any of them a glance, he stepped up to the bar, and +pronounced the name of his drink--this time plain brandy and water. + +While waiting to be served a voice arrested his attention. It came from +one of three individuals, who, like himself, had taken stand before the +counter, on which were their glasses. + +The speaker's back was toward him, though sufficient of his whisker +could be seen for Maynard to identify Dick Swinton. + +His companions were also recognisable as the excursionists of the +row-boat, whose dog he had peppered with duck-shot. + +To Mr Swinton they were evidently recent acquaintances, picked up +perhaps during the course of the evening; and they appeared to have +taken as kindly to him as if they, too, had learnt, or suspected him to +be a lord! + +He was holding forth to them in that grand style of intonation, supposed +to be peculiar to the English nobleman; though in reality but the +conceit of the stage caricaturist and Bohemian scribbler, who only know +"my lord" through the medium of their imaginations. + +Maynard thought it a little strange. But it was many years since he had +last seen the man now near him; and as time produces some queer changes, +Mr Swinton's style of talking need not be an exception. + +From the manner in which he and his two listeners were fraternising, it +was evident they had been some time before the bar. At all events they +were sufficiently obfuscated not to notice new-comers, and thus he had +escaped their attention. + +He would have left them equally unnoticed, but for some words striking +on his ear that evidently bore reference to himself. + +"By-the-way, sir," said one of the strangers, addressing Swinton, "if +it's not making too free, may I ask you for an explanation of that +little affair that happened in the ball-room?" + +"Aw--aw; of what affair do yaw speak, Mr Lucas?" + +"Something queer--just before the first waltz. There was a dark-haired +girl with a diamond head-dress--the same you danced a good deal with-- +Miss Girdwood I believe her name is--and a fellow with moustache and +imperial. The old lady, too, seemed to have a hand in it. My friend +and I chanced to be standing close by, and saw there was some sort of a +scene among you. Wasn't it so?" + +"Scene--naw--naw. Only the fellaw wanted to have a spin with the divine +queetyaw, and the lady preferred dancing with yaw humble servant. That +was all, gentlemen, I ashaw yaw." + +"We thought there had been a difficulty between him and you. It looked +devilish like it." + +"Not with _me_. I believe there was a misunderstanding between him and +the young lady. The twuth is, she pweaded a pwevious engagement, which +she didn't seem to have upon her cawd. For my part I had nothing to do +with the fellaw--absolutely nothing--did not even speak to him." + +"You looked at him, though, and he at you. I thought you were going to +have it out between you, there and then!" + +"Aw--aw; he understands me bettaw--that same individual." + +"You knew him before, then?" + +"Slightly, vewy slightly--a long time agaw." + +"In your own country, perhaps? He appears to be an Englishman." + +"Naw--not a bit of it. He's a demmed Iwishman." + +Maynard's ears were becoming rapidly hot. + +"What was he on your side?" inquired the junior of Swinton's new +acquaintances, who appeared quite as curious as the older one. + +"What was he! Aw--aw, faw that matter nothing--nothing." + +"No calling, or profession?" + +"Wah, yas; when I knew the fellaw he was an ensign in an infantry +wegiment. Not one of the cwack corps, yaw knaw. We should not have +weceived him in ours." + +Maynard's fingers began to twitch. + +"Of course not," continued the "swell." + +"I have the honaw, gentlemen, to bewong to the Gawds--Her Majesty's +Dwagoon Gawds." + +"He has been in our service--in one of the regiments raised for the +Mexican war. Do you know why he left yours?" + +"Well, gentlemen, it's not for me to speak too fweely of a fellaw's +antecedents. I am usually cautious about such matters--vewy cautious, +indeed." + +"Oh, certainly; right enough," rejoined the rebuked inquirer; "I only +asked because it seems a little odd that an officer of your army should +have left it to take service in ours." + +"If I knew anything to the fellaw's qwedit," continued the Guardsman, "I +should be most happy to communicate it. Unfawtunately, I don't. Quite +the contwawy!" + +Maynard's muscles--especially those of his dexter arm--were becoming +fearfully contracted. It wanted but little to draw him into the +conversation. One more such remark would be sufficient; and +unfortunately for himself, Mr Swinton made it. + +"The twuth is, gentlemen," said he, the drink perhaps having deprived +him of his customary caution--"the twuth is, that Mr Ensign Maynard--or +Captain Maynard, as I believe he now styles himself--was kicked out of +the Bwitish service. Such was the report, though I won't be wesponsible +for its twuth." + +"_It's a lie_!" cried Maynard, suddenly pulling off his kid glove, and +drawing it sharply across his traducer's cheek. "A lie, Dick Swinton! +And if not responsible for originating it, as you say you _shall_ be for +giving it circulation. There never was such a report, and you know it, +scoundrel!" + +Swinton's cheek turned white as the glove that had smitten it; but it +was the pallor of fear rather than anger. + +"Aw--indeed! you there, Mr Maynard! Well--well; I'm sure--you say it's +not twue. And you've called me a scoundwell! And yaw stwuck me with +yaw glove?" + +"I shall repeat the word and the blow. I shall spit in your face, if +you don't retract!" + +"Wetwact!" + +"Bah! there's been enough pass between us. I leave you time to reflect. +My room is 209, on the fourth storey. I hope you'll find a friend who +won't be above climbing to it. My card, sir!" + +Swinton took the card, and with fingers that showed trembling gave his +own in exchange. While with a scornful glance, that comprehended both +him and his acolytes, the other faced back to the bar, coolly completed +his potation, and, without saying another word, reascended the stairway. + +"You'll meet him, won't you?" asked the older of Swinton's drinking +companions. + +It was not a very correct interrogatory; but, perhaps, judging by what +had passed, the man who put it may have deemed delicacy superfluous. + +"Of cawse--of cawse," replied he of Her Majesty's Horse Guards, without +taking note of the rudeness. "Demmed awkward, too!" he continued, +reflectingly. "I am here a stwanger--no fwend--" + +"Oh, for that matter," interrupted Lucas, the owner of the Newfoundland +dog, "there need be no difficulty. I shall be most happy to act as your +second." + +The man who thus readily volunteered his services was as arrant a +poltroon as could have been found about the fashionable hostelry in +which the conversation was taking place--not excepting Swinton himself. +He, too, had good cause for playing principal in a duel with Captain +Maynard. But it was safer to be second; and no man knew this better +than Louis Lucas. + +It would not be the first time for him to act in this capacity. Twice +before had he done so, obtaining by it a sort of borrowed _eclat_ that +was mistaken for bravery. For all this he was in reality a coward; and +though smarting under the remembrance of his encounter with Maynard, he +had allowed the thing to linger without taking further steps. The +quarrel with Swinton was therefore in good time, and to his hand. + +"Either I, or my friend here," he added. + +"With pleasure," assented the other. + +"Thanks, gentlemen; thanks, both! Exceedingly kind of you! But," +continued Swinton in a hesitating manner, "I should be sowy to bwing +either of you into my scwape. There are some of my old comwades in +Canada, sarving with their wegiments. I shall telegwaph to them. And +this fellaw must wait. Now, dem it! let's dwop the subject, and take +anothaw dwink." + +All this was said with an air of assumed coolness, of which not even the +drinks already taken could cover the pretence. It was, in truth, but a +subterfuge to gain time, and reflect upon some plan to escape without +calling Maynard out. + +There might be a chance, if left to himself; but once in the hands of +another, there would be no alternative but to stand up. + +These were the thoughts rapidly coursing through Mr Swinton's mind, +while the fresh drinks were being prepared. + +As the glass again touched his lips, they were white and dry; and the +after-conversation between him and his picked-up acquaintances was +continued on his part with an air of abstraction that told of a terrible +uneasiness. + +It was only when oblivious with more drink that he assumed his swagger; +but an hour afterward, as he staggered upstairs, even the alcoholic +"buzzing" in his brain did not hinder him from having a clear +recollection of the encounter with the "demmed Iwishman!" + +Once inside his own apartment, the air of the nobleman a as suddenly +abandoned. So, too, the supposed resemblance in speech. His talk was +now that of a commoner--intoxicated. It was addressed to his valet, +still sitting up to receive him. + +A small ante-chamber on one side was supposed to be the sleeping-place +of this confidential servant. Judging by the dialogue that ensued, he +might be well called confidential. A stranger to the situation would +have been surprised it listening to it. + +"A pretty night you've made of it!" said the valet, speaking more in the +tone of a master. + +"Fact--fac--hic'p! you speak th' truth, Frank! No--not pretty night. +The very reverse--a d-damned ugly night." + +"What do you mean, you sot?" + +"Mean--mee-an! I mean the g-gig-game's up. 'Tis, by Jingo! Splend'd +chance. Never have such 'nother. Million dollars! All spoiled--th' +infernal fella!" + +"What fellow?" + +"Who d'ye 'spose I've seen--met him in the ball--ball--bar-room--down +below. Let's have another drink! Drinks all round--who's g-gig-goin' +drink?" + +"Try and talk a little straighter! What's this about?" + +"Whas't 'bout? What sh'd be about? Him--hic'p! 'bout him." + +"Him! who?" + +"Who--who--who--why, Maynard. Of course you know Maynard? B'long to +the Thirty--Thirty--Don't reclect the number of regiment. No matter for +that. He's here--the c-c-confounded cur." + +"Maynard here!" exclaimed the valet, in a tone strange for a servant. + +"B'shure he is! Straight as a trivet, curse him! Safe to spoil +everything--make a reg'lar mucker of it." + +"Are you sure it was he?" + +"Sure--sure! I sh'd think so. He's give me good reason, c-curse 'im!" + +"Did you speak to him?" + +"Yes--yes." + +"What did he say to you?" + +"Not much said--not much. It's what he's--what he's done." + +"What?" + +"Devil of a lot--yes--yes. Never mind now. Let's go to bed, Frank. +Tell you all 'bout in the morning. Game's up. 'Tis by J-Jupiter!" + +As if incapable of continuing the dialogue--much less of undressing +himself--Mr Swinton staggered across to the bed; and, sinking down upon +it, was soon snoring and asleep. + +It might seem strange that the servant should lie down beside him, which +he did. Not after knowing that the little valet was his wife! It was +the amiable "Fan" who thus shared the couch of her inebriate husband. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN. + +CHALLENGING THE CHALLENGER. + +"In faith, I've done a very foolish thing," reflected the young +Irishman, as he entered his dormitory, and flung himself into a chair. +"Still there was no help for it. Such talk as that, even from a +stranger like Dick Swinton, would play the deuce with me. Of course +they don't know him here; and he appears to be playing a great part +among them; no doubt plucking such half-fledged pigeons as those with +him below. + +"Very likely he said something of the same to the girl's mother--to +herself? Perhaps that's why I've been treated so uncourteously! Well, +I have him on the hip now; and shall make him repent his incautious +speeches. Kicked out of the British service! Lying cur, to have said +it! To have thought of such a thing! And from what I've heard it's but +a leaf from his own history! This may have suggested it. I don't +believe he's any longer in the Guards: else what should he be doing out +here? Guardsmen don't leave London and its delights without strong, and +generally disagreeable, reasons. I'd lay all I've got he's been +disgraced. He was on the edge of it when I last heard of him. + +"He'll fight of course? He wouldn't if he could help it--I know the +sweep well enough for that. But I've given him no chance to get out of +it. A kid glove across the face, to say nothing of a threat to spit in +it--with a score of strange gentlemen looking on and listening! If ten +times the poltroon he is, he dare not show the white feather now. + +"Of course he'll call me out; and what am I to do for a second? The +three or four fellows I've scraped companionship with here are not the +men--one of them. Besides, none of them might care to oblige me on such +short acquaintance? + +"What the deuce am I to do? Telegraph to the Count?" he continued, +after a pause spent in reflecting. "He's in New York, I know; and know +he would come on at once. It's just the sort of thing would delight the +_vieux sabreur_, now that the Mexican affair is ended, and he's once +more compelled to sheathe his revolutionary sword. Come in! Who the +deuce knocks at a gentleman's door at this unceremonious hour?" + +It was not yet 5 a.m. Outside the hotel could be heard carriage wheels +rolling off with late roisterers, who had outstayed the ball. + +"Surely it's too soon for an emissary from Swinton? Come in!" + +The door opening at the summons, discovered the night-porter of the +hotel. + +"Well! what want you, my man?" + +"A gentleman wants _you_, sir." + +"Show him up!" + +"He told me, sir, to give you his apologies for disturbing you at so +early an hour. It's because his business is very important." + +"Bosh! Why need he have said that?" Dick Swinton's friend must be a +more delicate gentleman than himself! + +The last speech was in soliloquy, and not to the porter. + +"He said, sir," continued the latter, "that having come by the boat--" + +"By the boat?" + +"Yes, sir, the New York boat. She's just in." + +"Yes--yes; I heard the whistle. Well?" + +"That having come by the boat, he thought--he thought--" + +"Confound it! my good fellow; don't stay to tell me his thoughts +secondhand. Where is he? Show him up here, and let him speak them for +himself." + +"From New York?" continued Maynard, after the porter had disappeared. +"Who of the Knickerbockers can it be? And what business of such +importance as to startle a fellow from his sleep at half-past four in +the morning--supposing me to have been asleep--which luckily I'm not Is +the Empire city ablaze, and Fernando Wood, like a second Nero, fiddling +in ruthless glee over its ruins? Ha! Roseveldt?" + +"Maynard!" + +The tone of the exchanged salutation told of a meeting unexpected, and +after a period of separation. It was followed by a mutual embrace. +Theirs was a friendship too fervent to be satisfied with the shaking of +hands. Fellow campaigners--as friends--they had stood side by side +under the hissing hailstorm of battle. Side by side had they charged up +the difficult steep of Chapultepec, in the face of howitzers belching +forth their deadly shower of shot--side by side fallen on the crest of +the counterscarp, their blood streaming unitedly into the ditch. + +They had not seen each other since. No wonder they should meet with +emotions corresponding to the scenes through which they had passed. + +Some minutes passed before either could find coherent speech. They only +exchanged ejaculations. Maynard was the first to become calm. + +"God bless you, my dear Count?" he said; "my grand instructor in the +science of war. How glad I am to see you!" + +"Not more than I to see you, _cher camarade_!" + +"But say, why are you here? I did not expect you; though strange enough +I was this moment thinking of you!" + +"I'm here to see you--specially you!" + +"Ah! For what, my dear Roseveldt?" + +"You've said that I instructed you in the science of war. Be it so. +But the pupil now excels his teacher--has gone far beyond him in fame. +That's why I'm here." + +"Explain yourself, Count!" + +"Read this. It will save speech. You see it is addressed to yourself." + +Maynard took the sealed letter handed to him. It bore the +superscription: + +"Captain Maynard." + +Breaking it open, he read: + +"The committee of German refugees in New York, in view of the late news +from Europe, have hopes that freedom is not yet extinguished in their +ancient fatherland. They have determined upon once more returning to +it, and taking part in the struggle again begun in Baden and the +Palatinate. Impressed by the gallantry displayed by you in the late +Mexican war, with your protective kindness to their countrymen who +served under you--and above all, your well-known devotion to the cause +of liberty--they have unanimously resolved to offer you the leadership +in this enterprise. While aware of its perils--as also of your courage +to encounter them--they can promise you no reward save that of glory and +a nation's gratitude. To achieve this, they offer you a nation's trust. +Say, sir, are you prepared to accept it?" + +Some half-dozen names were appended, at which Maynard simply glanced. +He knew the men, and had heard of the movement. + +"I accept," he said, after a few seconds spent in reflection. "You can +carry that answer back to the committee." + +"Carry back an answer! My dear Maynard, I come to carry _you_ back." + +"Must I go directly?" + +"This very day. The rising in Baden has begun, and you know revolutions +won't wait for any one. Every hour is important. You are expected back +by the next boat. I hope there's nothing to prevent it? What! There +is something?" + +"There is; something rather awkward." + +"Not a woman? No--no! You're too much of a soldier for that." + +"No; not a woman." + +As Maynard said this a strange expression came over his countenance, as +if he was struggling against the truth. + +"No--no!" he continued, with a forced smile. "Not a woman. It's only a +man; indeed only a thing in the shape of one." + +"Explain, captain! Who, or what is he?" + +"Well, it's simply an affair. About an hour ago I slapped a fellow in +the face." + +"Ha!" + +"There's been a ball to-night--in the hotel, here." + +"I know it. I met some of the people going away. Well?" + +"There was a young lady--" + +"I might have known that, too. Who ever heard of an affair without a +lady, young or old, at the bottom of it? But excuse me for interrupting +you." + +"After all," said Maynard, apparently changing his tack, "I needn't stay +to tell you about the lady. She had little or nothing to do with it. +It occurred in the bar-room after the ball was over, and she in her bed, +I suppose." + +"Leave her to one side then, and let her sleep." + +"I had gone into this bar-room to take a drink, by way of night-cap, and +was standing by the counter, when I heard some one making rather free +use of my name. Three men were close beside me, talking in a very fast +style, and, as I soon discovered, about myself. They had been imbibing +a good deal, and did not chance to see me. + +"One of the three I had known in England, when we were both in the +British service. + +"The other two--Americans I suppose them--I had only seen for the first +time some two days ago. Indeed, I had then a little difficulty with +them, which I needn't stay to trouble you about now; though I more than +half expected to have had a challenge for that. It didn't come, +however; and you may guess what sort they are. + +"It was my quondam acquaintance of the English army who was taking +liberties with my character, in answer to inquiries the other two were +putting to him." + +"What was he telling them?" + +"No end of lies; the worst of them being that I had been kicked out of +the British service! Of course it was also his last. After that--" + +"After that you kicked him out of the bar-room. I fancy I can see you +engaged in that little bit of foot practice!" + +"I was not quite so rude as that. I only slashed him across the cheek +with my glove, and then handed him my card. + +"In truth, when you were announced I thought it was _his_ friend, and +not mine: though, knowing the man as I do, the idea of his sending a +messenger so early rather surprised me. + +"I'm glad you've come, Count. I was in a devil of a dilemma--being +acquainted with nobody here who could have served me for a second. I +suppose I can reckon upon you?" + +"Oh, that of course," answered the Count, with as much _insouciance_ as +if he had been only asked for a cigar. "But," he added, "is there no +way by which this meeting may be avoided?" + +It was not any craven thought that dictated the interrogatory. A glance +at Count Roseveldt would have satisfied any one of this. + +Full forty years of age, with moustache and whisker just beginning to +show steel-grey, of true martial bearing, he at once impressed you as a +man who had seen much practice in the terrible trade of the duello. At +the same time there was about him no air either of the bully or bravado. +On the contrary, his features were marked by an expression of +mildness--on occasions only changing to stern. + +One of these changes came over them, as Maynard emphatically made +answer: "No." + +"_Sacre_!" he said, hissing out a French exclamation. "How provoking! +To think such an important matter--the liberty of all Europe--should +suffer from such a paltry mischance! It has been well said that woman +is the curse of mankind! + +"Have you any idea," he continued, after this ungallant speech, "when +the fellow is likely to send in?" + +"Not any. Some time during the day, I take it. There can be no cause +for delay that I can think of. Heaven knows, we're near enough each +other, since both are stopping in the same hotel." + +"Challenge some time during the day. Shooting, or whatever it may be, +to-morrow morning. No railway from here, and boat only once a day. +Leaves Newport at 7 p.m. A clear twenty-four hours lost! _Sac-r-re_!" + +These calculations were in soliloquy; Count Roseveldt, as he made them, +torturing his great moustache, and looking at some imaginary object +between his feet Maynard remained silent. + +The Count continued his _sotto voce_ speeches, now and then breaking +into ejaculations delivered in a louder tone, and indifferently in +French, English, Spanish, and German. + +"By heavens, I have it?" he at length exclaimed, at the same time +starting to his feet. "I have it, Maynard! I have it?" + +"What has occurred to you, my dear Count?" + +"A plan to save time. We'll go back to New York by the evening's boat!" + +"Not before fighting! I presume you include _that_ in your +calculations?" + +"Of course I do. We'll fight, and be in time all the same." + +If Maynard had been a man of delicate susceptibilities he might have +reflected on the uncertainty of such a programme. + +He merely asked for its explanation. + +"Perfectly simple," responded the Count. "You are to be the challenged +party, and, of course, have your choice both of time and weapons. No +matter about the weapons. It's the time that concerns us so." + +"You'd bring off the affair to-day?" + +"Would, and will." + +"How if the challenge arrive too late--in the evening say?" + +"_Carrambo_!--to use our old Mexican shibboleth--I've thought of that-- +of everything. The challenge shall come early--_must_ come, if your +adversary be a gentleman. I've hit upon a plan to force it out of him +in good time." + +"Your plan?" + +"You'll write to him--that is, I shall--to say you are compelled to +leave Newport to-night; that a matter of grand importance has suddenly +summoned you away. Appeal to him, as a man of honour, to send in his +invitation at once, so that you may arrange a meeting. If he don't do +so, by all the laws of honour you will be free to go, at any hour you +may name." + +"That will be challenging the challenger. Will it be correct?" + +"Of course it will. I'll be answerable. It's altogether _en regle_-- +strictly according to the code." + +"I agree to it, then." + +"Enough! I must set about composing the letter. Being a little out of +the common, it will require some thought. Where are your pens and ink?" + +Maynard pointed to a table, on which were the writing materials. + +Drawing up a chair, Roseveldt seated himself beside it. + +Then, taking hold of a pen, and spreading a sheet of "cream laid" before +him, he proceeded to write the premonitory epistle, scarce consulting +the man most interested in what it might contain. Thinking of the +revolution in Baden, he was most anxious to set free his friend from the +provoking compromise, so that both might bear the flag of freedom +through his beloved fatherland. + +The note was soon written; a copy carefully taken, folded up, and shoved +into an envelope. Maynard scarce allowed the opportunity of reading it! + +It had to be addressed by his directions, and was sent to _Mr Richard +Swinton_, just as the great gong, screaming through the corridors of the +Ocean House, proclaimed to its guests the hour for _dejeuner a la +fourchette_. + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN. + +A REQUEST FOR A QUICK FIGHT. + +The first shriek of the gong startled Mr Swinton from his slumber. + +Springing out of his couch, he commenced pacing the floor with an +unsteady stride. + +He was in the dress he had worn at the ball, the straw kids excepted. + +But he was not thinking either of dress or toilet. His mind was in an +agony of excitement that precluded all thoughts about personal +appearance. Despite the ringing in his brain, it was clear enough for +him to recall the occurrences of the night. Too well did he remember to +what he had committed himself. + +His apprehensions were of a varied character. Maynard knew him of old; +and was perhaps acquainted with his later, and less creditable, history. +His character would be made known; and his grand scheme frustrated. + +But this was nothing compared with the other matter upon his mind--the +stain upon his cheek--that could only be wiped out at the risk of losing +his life. + +He shivered, as he went staggering around the room. His discomposure +was too plain to escape the notice of his wife. In his troubled look +she read some terrible tale. + +"What is it, Dick?" she asked, laying her hand upon his shoulder. +"There's been something unpleasant. Tell me all about it." + +There was a touch of tenderness in the tone. Even the scarred heart of +the "pretty horse-breaker" had still left in it some vestige of woman's +divine nature. + +"You've had a quarrel with Maynard?" she continued. "Is that it?" + +"Yes!" hoarsely responded the husband. "All sorts of a quarrel." + +"How did it arise?" + +In speech not very coherent--for the alcoholic tremor was upon him--he +answered the question, by giving an account of what had passed--not even +concealing his own discreditable conduct in the affair. + +There was a time when Richard Swinton would not have so freely confessed +himself to Frances Wilder. It had passed, having scarce survived their +honeymoon. The close companionship of matrimony had cured both of the +mutual hallucination that had made them man and wife. The romance of an +unhallowed love had died out; and along with it what little respect they +might have had for one another's character. On his side so effectually, +that he had lost respect for himself, and he took but little pains to +cover the uneasiness he felt--in the eyes of his wedded wife--almost +confessing himself a coward. + +It would have been idle for him to attempt concealing it. She had long +since discovered this idiosyncracy in his character--perhaps more than +all else causing her to repent the day when she stood beside him at the +altar. The tie that bound her to him now was but that of a common +danger, and the necessity of self-preservation. + +"You expect him to send you a challenge?" said she, a woman, and of +course ignorant of the etiquette of the duel. + +"No," he replied, correcting her. "That must come from me--as the party +insulted. If it had only been otherwise--" he went on muttering to +himself. "What a mistake not to pitch into him on the spot! If I'd +only done that, the thing might have ended there; or at all events left +me a corner to creep out of." + +This last was not spoken aloud. The ex-guardsman was not yet so grandly +degraded as to make such a humiliating confession to his wife. She +might see, but not hear it. + +"No chance now," he continued to reflect. "Those two fellows present. +Besides a score of others, witnesses to all that passed; heard every +word; saw the blow given; and the cards exchanged. It will be the talk +of the hotel! I must fight, or be for ever disgraced!" + +Another turn across the room, and an alternative presented itself. It +was flight! + +"I might pack up, and clear out of the place," pursued he, giving way to +the cowardly suggestion. "What could it matter? No one here knows me +as yet; and my face might not be remembered. But my name? They'll get +that. He'll be sure to make it known, and the truth will meet me +everywhere! To think, too, of the chance I should lose--a fortune! I +feel sure I could have made it all night with this girl. The mother on +my side already! Half a million of dollars--the whole one in time! +Worth a life of plotting to obtain--worth the risk of a life; ay, of +one's soul! It's lost if I go; can be won if I only stay! Curse upon +my tongue for bringing me into this scrape! Better I'd been born dumb?" + +He continued to pace the floor, now endeavouring to fortify his courage +to the point of fighting, and now giving way to the cowardly instincts +of his nature. + +While thus debating with himself, he was startled by a tapping at the +door. + +"See who it is, Fan," he said in a hurried whisper. "Step outside; and +whoever it is, don't let them look in." + +Fan, still in her disguise of valet, glided to the door, opened it, and +looked out. + +"A waiter, I suppose, bringing my boots or shaving-water?" + +This was Mr Swinton's reflection. + +It was a waiter, but not with either of the articles named. Instead, he +was the bearer of an epistle. + +It was delivered to Fan, who stood in the passage, keeping the door +closed behind her. She saw that it was addressed to her husband. It +bore no postmark, and appeared but recently written. + +"Who sent it?" was her inquiry, couched in a careless tone. + +"What's that to you, cock-sparrow?" was the rejoinder of the +hotel-servant; inclined toward chaffing the servitor of the English +gentleman--in his American eyes, tainted with flunkeyism. + +"Oh, nothing!" modestly answered Frank. + +"If you must know," said the other, apparently mollified, "it's from a +gentleman who came by this morning's boat--a big, black fellow, six feet +high, with moustaches at least six inches long. I guess your master +will know all about him. Anyhow, that's all I know." + +Without more words, the waiter handed over the letter, and took himself +off to the performance of other dudes. + +Fan re-entered the room, and handed the epistle to her husband. + +"By the morning boat?" said Swinton. "From New York? Of course, +there's no other. Who can have come thence, that's got any business +with me?" + +It just flashed across his mind that acceptances given in England could +be transmitted to America. It was only a question of transfer, the +drawer becoming endorser. And Richard Swinton knew that there were +lawyers of the tribe of Levi, who had transactions in this kind of +stamped paper, corresponding with each other across the Atlantic. + +Was it one of his London bills forwarded to the American correspondent, +ten days before the day of dishonour? + +Such was the suspicion that came into his mind while listening to the +dialogue outside. And it remained there, till he had torn open the +envelope, and commenced reading. + +He read as follows: + + "Sir,--As the friend of Captain Maynard, and referring to what + occurred between him and you last night, I address you. + + "Circumstances of an important--indeed, peremptory--character require + his presence elsewhere, necessitating him to leave Newport by the boat + which takes departure at 8 p.m. Between this and then there are + twelve hours of daylight, enough to settle the trifling dispute + between you. Captain Maynard appeals to you, as a gentleman, to + accept his offer for quick satisfaction. Should you decline it, I, + speaking as his friend, and believing myself tolerably well acquainted + with the code of honour, shall feel justified in absolving him from + any further action relating to the affair, and shall be prepared to + defend him against any aspersions that may arise from it. + + "Until 7:30 p.m.--allowing half an hour to reach the boat--your friend + will find me in Captain Maynard's room. + + "Yours obediently,-- + + "Rupert Roseveldt. + + "Count of the Austrian Empire." + +Twice, without stopping, did Swinton peruse this singular epistle. + +Its contents, instead of adding to the excitement of his spirit, seemed +to have the effect of tranquillising it. + +Something like a smile of satisfaction stole over his countenance, white +engaged in the second reading. + +"Fan?" he said, slipping the letter into his pocket, and turning hastily +toward his wife, "ring the bell, and order brandy and soda--some cigars, +too. And, hark ye, girl: for your life, don't let the waiter put his +nose inside the room, or see into it. Take the tray from him, as he +comes to the door. Say to him, besides, that I won't be able to go down +to breakfast--that I've been indulging last night, and am so-so this +morning. You may add that I'm in bed. All this in a confidential way, +so that he may believe it. I have my reasons--good reasons. So have a +care, and don't make a mull of it." + +Silently obedient, she rang the bell, which was soon answered by a knock +at the door. + +Instead of calling "Come in?" Fan, standing ready inside the room, +stepped out--closing the door after her, and retaining the knob in her +hand. + +He who answered was the same jocular fellow who had called her a +cock-sparrow. + +"Some brandy and soda, James. Ice, of course. And stay--what else? +Oh! some cigars. You may bring half a dozen. My master," she added, +before the waiter could turn away, "don't intend going down to +breakfast." + +This with a significant smile, that secured James for a parley. + +It came off; and before leaving to execute the order, he was made +acquainted with the helpless condition of the English gent who occupied +Number 149. + +In this there was nothing to surprise him. Mr Swinton was not the only +guest under his charge, who on that particular morning required brandy +and soda. James rather rejoiced at it, as giving him claim for an +increased perquisite. + +The drink was brought up, along with the cigars, and taken in as +directed; the gentleman's servant giving the waiter no opportunity to +gratify curiosity by a sight of his suffering master. Even had the door +been left open, and James admitted to the room, he would not have gone +out of it one whit the wiser. He could only have told that Frank's +master was still abed, his face buried under the bedclothes! + +To make sure against surprise, Mr Swinton had assumed this interesting +attitude; and for reasons unknown even to his own valet. On the +rebolting of the door, he flung off the coverlet, and once more +commenced treading the carpet. + +"Was it the same waiter?" he asked; "he that brought the letter?" + +"It was--James--you know?" + +"So much the better. Out with that cork, Fan! I want something to +settle my nerves, and make me fit for a good think?" + +While the wire was being twisted from the soda bottle, he took hold of a +cigar, bit off the end, lit, and commenced smoking it. + +He drank the brandy and soda at a single draught; in ten minutes after +ordering another dose, and soon again a third. + +Several times he re-read Roseveldt's letter--each time returning it to +his pocket, and keeping its contents from Fan. + +At intervals he threw himself upon the bed, back downward, the cigar +held between his teeth; again to get up and stride around the room with +the impatience of a man waiting for some important crisis--doubtful +whether it may come. + +And thus did Mr Swinton pass the day, eleven long hours of it, inside +his sleeping apartment! + +Why this manoeuvring, seemingly so eccentric? + +He alone knew the reason. He had not communicated it to his wife--no +more the contents of the lately received letter--leaving her to indulge +in conjectures not very flattering to her lord and master. + +Six brandies and sodas were ordered, and taken in with the same caution +as the first. They were all consumed, and as many cigars smoked by him +during the day. Only a plate of soup and a crust for his dinner--the +dish that follows a night of dissipation. With Mr Swinton it was a day +of dissipation, that did not end till 7:30 p.m. + +At that hour an event occurred that caused a sudden change in his +tactics--transforming him from an eccentric to a sane, if not sober, +man! + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN. + +A PARTING GLANCE. + +Any one acquainted with the topography of the Ocean House and its +adjuncts, knows that its livery-stable lies eastward--approached by a +wide way passing round the southern end. + +On that same evening, exactly at half-past seven o'clock, a carriage, +issuing from the stable-yard, came rolling along toward the hotel. By +the absence of livery coat, and the badgeless hat of the driver, the +"hack" was proclaimed; while the hour told its errand. The steamer's +whistle, heard upon the far-off wharf, was summoning its passengers +aboard; and the carriage was on its way to the piazza of the hotel to +take up "departures." + +Instead of going round to the front, it stopped by the southern end-- +where there is also a set of steps and a double door of exit. + +Two ladies, standing on the balcony above, saw the carriage draw up, but +without giving it thought. They were engaged in a conversation more +interesting than the sight of an empty hack, or even the speculation as +to who was about to be taken by it to the boat. The ladies were Julia +Girdwood and Cornelia Inskip; the subject of their converse the +"difficulty" that had occurred between Captain Maynard and Mr Swinton, +which, having been all day the talk of the hotel, had, of course, +penetrated to their apartment. + +Cornelia was sorry it had occurred. And, in a way, so also was Julia. + +But in another way she was not. Secretly she took credit to herself for +being the cause, and for this reason secretly felt gratification. It +proved to her, so ran her surmises, that both these men must have had +her in their mind as they quarrelled over their cups; though she cared +less for the thoughts of Swinton than of Maynard. + +As yet she was not so interested in either as to be profoundly anxious +about the affair. Julia Girdwood's was not a heart to be lost, or won, +within the hour. + +"Do you think they will have a duel?" asked the timid Cornelia, +trembling as she put the inquiry. + +"Of course they will," responded the more daring Julia. "They cannot +well get out of it--that is, Mr Swinton cannot." + +"And suppose one of them should kill the other?" + +"And suppose they do--both of them--kill one another? It's no business +of ours." + +"Oh, Julia! Do you think it is not?" + +"I'm sure it isn't. What have _we_ got to do with it? I should be +sorry, of course, about them, as about any other foolish gentlemen who +see fit to take too much drink. I suppose that's what did it." + +She only pretended to suppose this, as also her expressed indifference +about the result. + +Though not absolutely anxious, she was yet far from indifferent. It was +only when she reflected on Maynard's coolness to her at the close of the +ball, that she endeavoured to feel careless about the consequences. + +"Who's going off in this carriage?" she asked, her attention once more +drawn to it by the baggage being brought out. + +The cousins, leaning over the balustrade, looked below. Lettered upon a +leathern trunk, that had seen much service, they made out the name, +"CAPTAIN MAYNARD," and underneath the well-known initials, "U.S.A." + +Was it possible? Or were they mistaken? The lettering was dim, and at +a distance. Surely they were mistaken? + +Julia remained with eyes fixed upon the portmanteau. Cornelia ran to +her room to fetch a lorgnette. But before she returned with it, the +instrument was no longer needed. + +Miss Girdwood, still gazing down, saw Captain Maynard descend the steps +of the hotel, cross over to the carriage, and take his seat inside it. + +There was a man along with him, but she only gave this man a glance. +Her eyes were upon the ex-officer of Mexican celebrity, her rescuer from +the perils of the sea. + +Where was he going? His baggage and the boat-signal answered this +question. + +And why? For this it was not so easy to shape a response. + +Would he look up? + +He did; on the instant of taking his seat within the hack. + +Their eyes met in a mutual glance, half tender, half reproachful--on +both sides interrogatory. + +There was no time for either to become satisfied about the thoughts of +the other. The carriage whirling away, parted two strange individuals +who had come oddly together, and almost as oddly separated--parted them, +perhaps for ever! + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +There was another who witnessed that departure with perhaps as much +interest as did Julia Girdwood, though with less bitterness. To him it +was joy: for it is Swinton of whom we speak. + +Kneeling at the window of his room, on the fourth storey--looking down +through the slanted laths of the Venetians--he saw the hack drive up, +and with eager eyes watched till it was occupied. He saw also the two +ladies below; but at that moment he had no thoughts for them. + +It was like removing a millstone from his breast--the relief from some +long-endured agony--when Maynard entered the carriage; the last spasm of +his pain passing, as the whip cracked, and the wheels went whirling +away. + +Little did he care for that distraught look given by Julia Girdwood; nor +did he stay to listen whether it was accompanied by a sigh. + +The moment the carriage commenced moving, he sprang to his feet, turned +his back upon the window, and called out: + +"Fan!" + +"Well, what now?" was the response from his pretended servant. + +"About this matter with Maynard. It's time for me to call him out. +I've been thinking all day of how I can find a second." + +It was a subterfuge not very skilfully conceived--a weak, spasmodic +effort against absolute humiliation in the eyes of his wife. + +"You've thought of one, have you?" interrogated she, in a tone almost +indifferent. + +"I have." + +"And who, pray?" + +"One of the two fellows I scraped acquaintance with yesterday at dinner. +I met them again last night. Here's his name--Louis Lucas." + +As he said this he handed her a card. + +"What do you want me to do with it?" + +"Find out the number of his room. The clerk will tell you by your +showing the card. That's all I want now. Stay! You may ask, also, if +he's in." + +Without saying a word she took the card, and departed on her errand. +She made no show of alacrity, acting as if she were an automaton. + +As soon as she had passed outside, Swinton drew a chair to the table, +and, spreading out a sheet of paper, scribbled some lines upon it. + +Then hastily folding the sheet, he thrust it inside an envelope, upon +which he wrote the superscription: + +"Louis Lucas, Esq." + +By this time his messenger had returned, and announced the +accomplishment of her errand. Mr Lucas's room was Number 90, and he +was "in." + +"Number 90. It's below, on the second floor. Find it, Fan, and deliver +this note to him. Make sure you give it into his own hands, and wait +till he reads it. He will either come himself, or send an answer. If +he returns with you, do you remain outside, and don't show yourself till +you see him go out again." + +For the second time Fan went forth as a messenger. + +"I fancy I've got this crooked job straight," soliloquised Swinton, as +soon as she was out of hearing. "Even straighter than it was before. +Instead of spoiling my game, it's likely to prove the trump card. What +a lucky fluke it is! By the way, I wonder where Maynard can be gone, or +what's carried him off in such a devil of a hurry? Ha! I think I know +now. It must be something about this that's in the New York papers. +These German revolutionists, chased out of Europe in '48, who are +getting up an expedition to go back. Now I remember, there was a +count's name mixed up with the affair. Yes--it was Roseveldt! This +must be the man. And Maynard? Going along with them, no doubt. He was +a rabid Radical in England. That's his game, is it? Ha! ha! Splendid, +by Jove! Playing right into my hands, as if I had the pulling of the +strings! Well, Fan! Have you delivered the note?" + +"I have." + +"What answer? Is he coming?" + +"He is." + +"But when?" + +"He said directly. I suppose that's his step in the passage?" + +"Slip out then. Quick--quick!" + +Without protest the disguised wife did as directed, though not without +some feeling of humiliation at the part she had consented to play. + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN. + +A SAFE CHALLENGE. + +From the time of the hack's departure, till the moment when the valet +was so hastily sent out of the room, Mr Swinton had been acting as a +man in full possession of his senses. The drink taken during the day +had but restored his intellect to its usual strength; and with a clear +brain he had written the note inviting Mr Louis Lucas to an interview. +He had solicited this interview in his own apartment--accompanying the +request with an apology for not going to that of Mr Lucas. The excuse +was that he was "laid up." + +All this he could have done in a steady hand, and with choice diction; +for Richard Swinton was neither dunce nor ignoramus. + +Instead, the note was written in scribble, and with a chaotic confusion +of phraseology--apparently the production of one suffering from the +"trembles." + +In this there was a design; as also, in the behaviour of Mr Swinton, +when he heard the footfall of his expected visitor coming along the +corridor in the direction of his room. His action was of the most +eccentric kind--as much so as any of his movements during the day. + +It might have been expected that the _ci-devant_ habitue of the Horse +Guards, in conformity with past habits, would have made some attempt to +arrange his toilet for the reception of a stranger. Instead, he took +the opposite course; and while the footsteps of Mr Lucas were +resounding through the gallery, the hands of Mr Swinton were busy in +making himself as unpresentable as possible. + +Whipping off the dress-coat he had worn at the ball, and which in his +distraction he had all day carried on his shoulders; flinging the +waistcoat after, and then slipping his arms out of the braces; in +shirt-sleeves and with hair dishevelled, he stood to await the incoming +of his visitor. His look was that of one just awakened from the slumber +of intoxication. + +And this character--which had been no counterfeit in the morning--he +sustained during the whole time that the stranger remained in his room. + +Mr Lucas had no suspicion that the Englishman was acting. He was +himself in just that condition to believe in its reality; feeling, and +as he confessed, "seedy as the devil." This was his speech, in return +to the salutations of Swinton. + +"Yas, ba Jawve! I suppose yaw do. I feel just the same way. Aw--aw--I +must have been asleep for a week?" + +"Well, you've missed three meals at least, and I two of them. I was +only able to show myself at the supper-table." + +"Suppaw! Yaw don't mean to say it's so late as that?" + +"I do indeed. Supper we call it in this country; though I believe in +England it's the hour at which you dine. It's after eight o'clock." + +"Ba heavins! This is bad. I wemembaw something that occurred last +night. Yaw were with me, were you not?" + +"Certainly I was. I gave you my card." + +"Yas--yas. I have it. A fellaw insulted me--a Mr Maynard. If I +wemembaw awight, he stwuck me in the face." + +"That's true; he did." + +"Am I wight too in my wecollection that yaw, sir, were so vewy obliging +as to say yaw would act for me as--as--a fwend?" + +"Quite right," replied the willing Lucas, delighted with the prospect of +obtaining satisfaction for his own little private wrong, and without +danger to himself. "Quite right. I'm ready to do as I said, sir." + +"Thanks, Mr Lucas! a world of thanks! And now there's no time left faw +fawther talking. By Jawve! I've slept so long as to be in danger of +having committed myself! Shall I wite out the challenge, or would yaw +pwefer to do it yawself? Yaw know all that passed, and may word it as +yaw wish." + +"There need be no difficulty about the wording of it," said the chosen +second, who, from having acted in like capacity before, was fairly +acquainted with the "code." + +"In your case, the thing's exceedingly simple. This Mr or Captain +Maynard, as he's called, insulted you very grossly. I hear it's the +talk of the hotel. You must call upon him to go out, or apologise." + +"Aw, sawtingly. I shall do that. Wite faw me, and I shall sign." + +"Hadn't you better write yourself? The challenge should be in your own +hand. I am only the bearer of it." + +"Twue--twue! Confound this dwink. It makes one obwivious of +everything. Of cawse I should wite it." + +Sitting down before the table, with a hand that showed no trembling, Mr +Swinton wrote: + + "Sir--Referring to our interview of last night, I demand from you the + satisfaction due to a gentleman, whose honour you have outraged. That + satisfaction must be either a meeting, or an ample apology. I leave + you to take your choice. My friend, Mr Louis Lucas, will await your + answer. + + "Richard Swinton." + +"Will that do, think you?" asked the ex-guardsman, handing the sheet to +his second. + +"The very thing! Short, if not sweet. I like it all the better without +the `obedient servant.' It reads more defiant, and will be more likely +to extract the apology. Where am I to take it? You have his card, if I +mistake not. Does it tell the number of his room?" + +"Twue--twue! I have his cawd. We shall see." + +Taking up his coat from the floor, where he had flung it; Swinton fished +out the card. There was no number, only the name. + +"No matter," said the second, clutching at the bit of pasteboard. +"Trust me to discover him. I'll be back with his answer before you've +smoked out that cigar." + +With this promise, Mr Lucas left the room. + +As Mr Swinton sat smoking the cigar, and reflecting upon it, there was +an expression upon his face that no man save himself could have +interpreted. It was a sardonic smile worthy of Machiavelli. + +The cigar was about half burned out, when Mr Lucas was heard hurrying +back along the corridor. + +In an instant after he burst into the room, his face showing him to be +the bearer of some strange intelligence. + +"Well?" inquired Swinton, in a tone of affected coolness. "What says +our fellaw?" + +"What says he? Nothing." + +"He has pwomised to send the answer by a fwend, I pwesume?" + +"He has promised me nothing: for the simple reason that I haven't seen +him!" + +"Haven't seen him?" + +"No--nor ain't likely neither. The coward has `swartouted.'" + +"Swawtuated?" + +"Yes; G.T.T.--gone to Texas!" + +"Ba Jawve! Mr Lucas; I don't compwehend yaw?" + +"You will, when I tell you that your antagonist has left Newport. Gone +off by the evening boat." + +"Honaw bwight, Mr Lucas?" cried the Englishman, in feigned +astonishment. "Shawley you must be jawking." + +"Not in the least, I assure you. The clerk tells me he paid his hotel +bill, and was taken off in one of their hacks. Besides, I've seen the +driver who took him, and who's just returned. He says that he set Mr +Maynard down, and helped to carry his baggage aboard the boat. There +was another man, some foreign-looking fellow, along with him. Be sure, +sir, he's gone." + +"And left no message, no addwess, as to where I may find him?" + +"Not a word, that I can hear of." + +"Ba Gawd?" + +The man who had called forth this impassioned speech was at that moment +upon the deck of the steamer, fast cleaving her track towards the ocean. +He was standing by the after-guards, looking back upon the lights of +Newport, that struggled against the twilight. + +His eyes had become fixed on one that glimmered high up on the summit of +the hill, and which he knew to proceed from a window in the southern end +of the Ocean House. + +He had little thought of the free use that was just then being made of +his name in that swarming hive of beauty and fashion--else he might have +repented the unceremonious haste of his departure. + +Nor was he thinking of that which was carrying him away. His regrets +were of a more tender kind: for he had such. Regrets that even his +ardour in the sacred cause of Liberty did not prevent him from feeling. + +Roseveldt, standing by his side, and observing the shadow on his face, +easily divined its character. + +"Come, Maynard!" said he, in a tone of banter, "I hope you won't blame +me for bringing you with me. I see that you've left something behind +you!" + +"Left something behind me!" returned Maynard, in astonishment, though +half-conscious of what was meant. + +"Of course you have," jocularly rejoined the Count. "Where did you ever +stay six days without leaving a sweetheart behind you? It's true, you +scapegrace!" + +"You wrong me, Count. I assure you I have none--" + +"Well, well," interrupted the revolutionist, "even if you have, banish +the remembrance, and be a man! Let your sword now be your sweetheart. +Think of the splendid prospect before you. The moment your foot touches +European soil, you are to take command of the whole student army. The +Directory have so decided. Fine fellows, I assure you, these German +students: true sons of Liberty--_a la Schiller_, if you like. You may +do what you please with them, so long as you lead them against +despotism. I only wish I had your opportunity." + +As he listened to these stirring words, Maynard's eyes were gradually +turned away from Newport--his thoughts from Julia Girdwood. + +"It may be all for the best," reflected he, as he gazed down upon the +phosphoric track. "Even could I have won her, which is doubtful, she's +not the sort for a _wife_; and that's what I'm now wanting. Certain, I +shall never see her again. Perhaps the old adage will still prove +true," he continued, as if the situation had suggested it: "`Good fish +in the sea as ever were caught.' Scintillations ahead, yet unseen, +brilliant as those we are leaving behind us!" + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. + +"THE COWARD!" + +The steamer that carried Captain Maynard and his fortunes out of the +Narraganset Bay, had not rounded Point Judith before his name in the +mouths of many became a scorned word. The gross insult he had put upon +the English stranger had been witnessed by a score of gentlemen, and +extensively canvassed by all who had heard of it. Of course there would +be a "call out," and some shooting. Nothing less could be expected +after such an affront. + +It was a surprise, when the discovery came, that the insulter had stolen +off; for this was the interpretation put upon it. + +To many it was a chagrin. Not much was known of Captain Maynard, beyond +that public repute the newspapers had given to his name, in connection +with the Mexican war. + +This, however, proved him to have carried a commission in the American +army; and as it soon became understood that his adversary was an officer +in that of England, it was but natural there should be some national +feeling called forth by the affair. "After all," said they, "Maynard is +not an American!" It was some palliation of his supposed poltroonery +that he had stayed all day at the hotel, and that his adversary had not +sent the challenge till after he was gone. + +But the explanation of this appeared satisfactory enough; and Swinton +had not been slow in making it known. Notwithstanding some shame to +himself, he had taken pains to give it a thorough circulation; supposing +that no one knew aught of the communication he had received from +Roseveldt. + +And as no one did appear to know of it, the universal verdict was, that +the hero of C--, as some of the newspapers pronounced him, had fled from +a field where fighting honours might be less ostentatiously obtained. + +There were many, however, who did not attribute his departure to +cowardice, and who believed or suspected that there must have been some +other motive--though they could not conceive what. + +It was altogether an inexplicable affair; and had he left Newport in the +morning, instead of the evening, he would have been called by much +harder names than those that were being bestowed upon him. His stay at +the hotel for what might be considered a reasonable time, in part +protected him from vituperation. + +Still had he left the field to Mr Swinton, who was elevated into a sort +of half-hero by his adversary's disgraceful retreat. + +The lord _incognito_ carried his honours meekly as might be. He was not +without apprehension that Maynard might return, or be met again in some +other corner of the world--in either case to call him to account for any +triumphant swaggering. Of this he made only a modest display, answering +when questioned: + +"Confound the fellaw! He's given me the slip, and I don't knaw where to +find him! It's a demmed baw!" + +The story, as thus told, soon circulated through the hotel, and of +course reached that part of it occupied by the Girdwood family. Julia +had been among the first who knew of Maynard's departure--having herself +been an astonished eye-witness of it. + +Mrs Girdwood, only too glad to hear he had gone, cared but little about +the cause. Enough to know that her daughter was safe from his +solicitations. + +Far different were the reflections of this daughter. It was only now +that she began to feel that secret longing to possess the thing that is +not to be obtained. An eagle had stooped at her feet--as she thought, +submitting itself to be caressed by her. It was only for a moment. She +had withheld her hand; and now the proud bird had soared resentfully +away, never more to return to her taming! + +She listened to the talk of Maynard's cowardice without giving credence +to it. She knew there must be some other cause for that abrupt +departure; and she treated the slander with disdainful silence. + +For all this, she could not help feeling something like anger toward +him, mingled with her own chagrin. + +Gone without speaking to her--without any response to that humiliating +confession she had made to him before leaving the ball-room! On her +knees to him, and not one word of acknowledgment! + +Clearly he cared not for her. + +The twilight had deepened down as she returned into the balcony, and +took her stand there, with eyes bent upon the bay. Silent and alone, +she saw the signal-light of the steamer moving like an _ignis fatuus_ +along the empurpled bosom of the water--at length suddenly disappearing +behind the battlements of the Fort. + +"He is gone?" she murmured to herself, heaving a deep sigh. "Perhaps +never more to be met by me. Oh, I must try to forget him!" + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. + +DOWN WITH THE DESPOTS! + +Time was--and that not "long, long ago"--when the arrival of a European +steamer at New York was an event, as was also the departure. There were +only "Cunarders" that came and went once a fortnight; at a later period +making the trip hebdomadally. + +Any one who has crossed the Atlantic by the Cunard steamers need not be +told that, in New York, their point of landing and leaving is upon the +Jersey shore. + +In the days when such things were "sensations," a crowd used to collect +at the Cunard wharf, attracted thither by the presence of the vast +leviathan. + +Now and then were occasions when the motive was different or rather the +attraction--when, instead of the steamer, it was some distinguished +individual aboard of her: prince, patriot, singer, or courtesan. Gay, +unreflecting Gotham stays not to make distinction, honouring all kinds +of notoriety alike; or at all events giving them an equal distribution +of its curiosity. + +One of these occasions was peculiar. It was a departure; the boat being +the _Cambria_, one of the slowest, at the same time most comfortable, +steamers on the "line." + +She has been long since withdrawn from it; her keel, if I mistake not, +now ploughing the more tranquil waters of the Indian Ocean. + +And her captain, the brave, amiable Shannon! He, too, has been +transferred to another service, where the cares of steam navigation and +the storms of the Atlantic shall vex him no more. + +He is not forgotten. Reading these words, many hearts will be stirred +up to remember him--true hearts--still beating in New York, still +holding in record that crowd on the Jersey shore alongside the departing +steamer. + +Though assembled upon American soil, but few of the individuals +composing it were American. The physiognomy was European, chiefly of +the Teutonic type, though with an intermingling of the Latinic. +Alongside the North German, with light-coloured skin and huge tawny +moustache, stood his darker cousin of the Danube; and beside both the +still swarthier son of Italy, with gleaming dark eyes, and thick +_chevelure_ of shining black. Here could be noted, too, a large +admixture of Frenchmen, some of them still wearing the blouse brought +over from their native land; most of them of that brave _ouvrier_ class, +who but the year before, and two years after, might have been seen +resolutely defending the barricades of Paris. + +Only here and there could be distinguished an American face, or a word +spoken in the English language--the speaker being only a spectator who +had chanced upon the spot. + +The main body of the assemblage was composed of other elements--men who +had come there out of motives quite apart from mere curiosity. There +were women, too--young girls with flaxen hair and deep blue eyes, +recalling their native Rhineland, with others of darker skin, but +equally pretty faces, from the country of Corinne. + +Most of the cabin-passengers--there are no others in a Cunarder--had +ascended to the upper deck, as is usual at the departure of a steamer. +It was but a natural desire of all to witness the withdrawal of the +stage-plank--the severance of that last link binding them to a land they +were leaving with varied emotions. + +Despite their private thoughts, whether of joy or sorrow, they could not +help scanning with curiosity that sea of faces spread out before them +upon the wharf. + +Standing in family parties over the deck, or in rows leaning against the +rail, they interrogated one another as to the cause of the grand +gathering, as also the people who composed it. + +It was evident to all that the crowd was not American; and equally so, +that not any of them were about to embark upon the steamer. There was +no appearance of baggage, though that might have been aboard. But most +of them were of a class not likely to be carried by a Cunarder. +Besides, there were no signs of leave-taking--no embracing or +hand-shaking, such as may be seen when friends are about to be separated +by the sea. For this they were on the wrong side of the Atlantic. + +They stood in groups, close touching; the men smoking cigars, many of +them grand meerschaum pipes, talking gravely to one another, or more +jocosely to the girls--a crowd earnest, yet cheerful. + +It was plain, too, the steamer was not their attraction. Most of them +faced from her, casting interrogative glances along the wharf, as if +looking for something expected to appear to them in this direction. + +"Who are they?" was the question passed round among the passengers. + +A gentleman who appeared specially informed--there is always one such in +an assemblage--vouchsafed the desired information. + +"They're the refugees," he said. "French, Germans, Poles, and what not, +driven over here by the late revolutions in Europe." + +"Are they going back again?" inquired one who wanted further +information. + +"Some of them are, I believe," answered the first speaker. "Though not +by the steamer," he added. "The poor devils can't afford that." + +"Then why are they here?" + +"They have some leaders who are going. One of them, a man named +Maynard, who made some figure in the late Mexican war." + +"Oh, Captain Maynard! But he's not one of them! He isn't a +_foreigner_." + +"No. But the men he commanded in Mexico were, most of them! That's why +they have chosen him for their leader." + +"Captain Maynard must be a fool," interposed a third speaker. "The +rising reported in Europe has no chance of success. He'll only get his +neck into a halter. Are there any Americans taking part in the +movement?" + +He of supposed special information guessed not. + +He guessed correctly, though it was a truth not over creditable to his +country--which, by his speech, could be no other than the "States." + +At that crisis, when _filibustering_ might have been of some service to +the cause of European freedom, the only American who volunteered for it +was Maynard; and he was an _American-Irishman_! Still, to this great +country--to a residence among its people, and a study of its free +institutions--was he indebted for the inspiration that had made him what +he was--a lover of Liberty. + +Among those listening to the conversation was a group of three +individuals: a man of more than fifty years of age, a girl of less than +fourteen, and a woman whose summers and winters might number about +midway between. + +The man was tall, with an aspect of the kind usually termed +aristocratic. It was not stern; but of that mild type verging upon the +venerable--an expression strengthened by hair nearly white, seen under +the selvedge of his travelling-cap. + +The girl was an interesting creature. She was still but a mere child +and wearing the dress of one--a gown sleeveless, and with short skirt-- +the hair hanging loose over her shoulders. + +But under the skirt were limbs of a _tournure_ that told of approaching +puberty; while her profuse locks, precious on account of their rich +colour, appeared to call for pins and a comb. + +Despite the difficulty of comparing the features of a man of fifty and a +child of fourteen, there was enough resemblance between these two to +give the idea of father and daughter. It was confirmed by the relative +position in which they stood; he holding her paternally by the hand. + +Between them and the woman the relationship was of quite a different +nature, and needed only a glance to make it known. The buff complexion +of the latter, with the "white turban" upon her head, told her to be a +servant. + +She stood a little behind them. + +The man alone appeared to heed what was being said; the girl and servant +were more interested in the movements of the people upon the wharf. + +The brief conversation ended, he approached the original speaker with +the half-whispered question: + +"You say there are no Americans in this movement. Is Captain Maynard +not one?" + +"I guess not," was the reply. "He's been in the American army; but I've +heard say he's Irish. Nothing against him for that." + +"Of course not," answered the aristocratic-looking gentleman. "I merely +asked out of curiosity." + +It must have been a strong curiosity that caused him, after retiring a +little, to take out his note-book, and enter in it a memorandum, +evidently referring to the revolutionary leader. + +Furthermore, the information thus received appeared to have increased +his interest in the crowd below. + +Dropping the hand of his daughter, and pressing forward to the rail, he +watched its evolutions with eagerness. + +By this time the assemblage had warmed into a more feverish state of +excitement. Men were talking in a louder strain, with more rapid +gesticulations--some pulling out their watches, and looking impatiently +at the time. It was close upon twelve o'clock--the hour of the +steamer's starting. She had already sounded the signal to get aboard. + +All at once the loud talk ceased, the gesticulation was suspended, and +the crowd stood silent, or spoke only in whispers. A spark of +intelligence had drifted mysteriously amongst them. + +It was explained by a shout heard afar off, on the outer edge of the +assemblage. + +"He is coming?" + +The shout was taken up in a hundred repetitions, and carried on to the +centre of the mass, and still on to the steamer. + +It was succeeded by a grand huzza, and the cries: "_Nieder mit dem +tyrannen_!" "A bas les tyrants! Vive la Republique!" + +Who was coming? Whose advent had drawn forth that heart-inspiring +hail--had elicited those sentiments of patriotism simultaneously spoken +in almost every language of Europe? + +A carriage came forward upon the wharf. It was only a common street +hack that had crossed in the ferryboat. But men gave way for it with as +much alacrity as if it had been a grand gilded chariot carrying a king! + +And those men far more. Ten, twenty times quicker, and a thousand times +more cheerfully, did they spring out of its way. Had there been a king +inside it, there would have been none to cry, "God bless His Majesty!" +and few to have said, "God help him!" + +A king in that carriage would have stood but slight chance of reaching +the steamer in safety. + +There were two inside it--a man of nigh thirty, and one of maturer age. +They were Maynard and Roseveldt. + +It was upon the former all eyes were fixed, towards whom all hearts were +inclining. It was his approach had called forth that cry: "He is +coming?" + +And now that he had come, a shout was sent from the Jersey shore, that +echoed along the hills of Hoboken, and was heard in the streets of the +great Empire City. + +Why this wonderful enthusiasm for one who belonged neither to their race +nor their country? On the contrary, he was sprung from a people to them +banefully hostile! + +It had not much to do with the man. Only that he was the representative +of a principle--a cause for which most of them had fought and bled, and +many intended fighting, and, if need be, bleeding again. He was their +chosen chief, advancing toward the van, flinging himself forward into +the post of peril--for man's and liberty's sake, risking the chain and +the halter. For this was he the recipient of such honours. + +The carriage, slowly working its way through the thick crowd, was almost +lifted from its wheels. In their enthusiastic excitement those who +surrounded it looked as if they would have raised it on their shoulders +and carried it, horses included, up the staging of the steamer. + +They did this much for Maynard. Strong-bearded men threw their arms +around him, kissing him as if he had been a beautiful girl, while +beautiful girls clasped him by the hand, or with their kerchiefs waved +him an affectionate farewell. + +A colossus, lifting him from his feet, transported him to the deck of +the steamer, amidst the cheers of the assembled multitude. + +And amidst its cheers, still continued, the steamer swung out from the +wharf. + +"It is worth while to be true to the people," said Maynard, his breast +glowing with proud triumph, as he heard his name rise above the parting +hurrah. + +He repeated the words as the boat passed the Battery, and he saw the +German Artillery Corps--those brave scientific soldiers who had done so +much for their adopted land--drawn up on the esplanade of Castle Garden. + +And once again, as he listened to their farewell salvo, drowning the +distant cheers sent after him across the widening water. + + + +CHAPTER NINETEEN. + +BLANCHE AND SABINA. + +On parting from the pier most of the passengers forsook the upper deck, +and went scattering to their state-rooms. + +A few remained lingering above; among them the gentleman to whom +belonged the golden-haired girl, and the servant with skin of kindred +colour. + +He did not stay, as one who takes a leaving look at his native land. It +was evidently not his. In his own features, and those of the child held +in his hand, there was an unmistakable expression of "Englishism," as +seen in its nobler type. + +The coloured domestic, more like America, was still not of the "States." +Smaller and more delicate features, with a peculiar sparkle of the eye, +told of a West Indian origin--a negress for her mother, with a white +man, perhaps Frenchman or Spaniard, for her father. + +Any doubts about the gentleman's nationality would have been dispelled +by listening to a brief dialogue that soon after occurred between him +and a fourth personage who appeared upon the scene. + +This last was a young fellow in dark coat and trousers, the coat having +flap-pockets outside. The style betokened him a servant--made further +manifest by the black leathern cockade upon his hat. + +He had just come from below. + +Stepping up to the gentleman, and giving the unmistakable salute, he +pronounced his master's name: + +"Sir George!" + +"What is it, Freeman?" + +"They are stowing the luggage between decks, Sir George; and want to +know what pieces your excellency wishes to be kept for the state-rooms. +I've put aside the black bag and the yellow portmanteau, and the large +one with Miss Blanche's things. The bullock trunk? Is it to go below, +Sir George?" + +"Why, yes--no. Stay! What a bother! I must go down myself. Sabina! +keep close by the child. Here, Blanche! you can sit upon this cane +seat; and Sabina will hold the umbrella over you. Don't move away from +here till I come back." + +Sir George's assiduous care may be understood, by saying that Blanche +was his daughter--his only child. + +Laying hold of the brass baluster-rail, and sliding his hand along it; +he descended the stair, followed by Freeman. + +Blanche sat down as directed; the mulatto opening a light silk umbrella +and holding it over her head. It was not raining; only to protect her +from the sun. + +Looking at Blanche, one could not wonder at Sir George being so +particular. She was a thing to be shielded. Not that she appeared of +delicate health, or in any way fragile. On the contrary, her form +showed strength and rotundity unusual for a girl of thirteen. She was +but little over it. + +Perhaps it was her complexion he was thinking of. It certainly appeared +too precious to be exposed to the sun. + +And yet the sun had somewhere played upon, without spoiling it. Rather +was it improved by the slight embrowning, as the bloom enriches the skin +of the apricot. He seemed to have left some of his rays amidst the +tresses of her hair, causing them to shine like his own glorious beams. + +She remained upon the seat where her father had left her. The position +gave her a fine view of the bay and its beautiful shores, of Staten +Island and its villas, picturesquely placed amidst groves of emerald +green. + +But she saw, without observing them. The ships, too, swept past +unobserved by her; everything, even the objects immediately around her +upon the deck of the steamer. Her eyes only turned toward one point-- +the stairway--where people were ascending, and where her father had gone +down. + +And looking that way, she sat silent, though not abstracted. She was +apparently watching for some one to come up. + +"Miss Blanche," said the mulatto, observing this, "you no need look, you +fader not back for long time yet. Doan you 'member in dat Wes' Indy +steamer how much trouble dem baggages be? It take de governor great +while sort 'em." + +"I'm not looking for father," responded the child, still keeping her +eyes sternward. + +"Who den? You ben tinkin' 'bout somebody." + +"Yes, Sabby, I'm thinking of _him_. I want to see how he looks when +near. Surely he will come up here?" + +"Him! Who you 'peak' 'bout, Miss Blanche? De cap'in ob the ship?" + +"Captain of the ship! Oh, no, no! That's the captain up there. Papa +told me so. Who cares to look at an old fellow like that?" + +While speaking, she had pointed to Skipper Shannon, seen pacing upon the +"bridge." + +"Den who you mean?" asked the perplexed Sabina. + +"Oh, Sabby! sure you might know." + +"'Deed Sabby doan know." + +"Well, that gentleman the people cheered so. A man told papa they were +all there to take leave of him. Didn't they take leave of him in an odd +way? Why, the men in big beards actually kissed him. I saw them kiss +him. And the young girls! you saw what they did, Sabby. Those girls +appear to be very forward." + +"Dey war' nothin' but trash--dem white gals." + +"But the gentleman? I wonder who he is? Do you think it's a prince?" + +The interrogatory was suggested by a remembrance. Only once in her life +before had the child witnessed a similar scene. Looking out of a window +in London, she had been spectator to the passage of a prince. She had +heard the hurrahs, and seen the waving of hats and handkerchiefs. +Alike, though with perhaps a little less passion--less true enthusiasm. +Since then, living a tranquil life in one of the Lesser Antilles--of +which her father was governor--she had seen little of crowds, and less +of such excited assemblages as that just left behind. It was not +strange she should recall the procession of the prince. + +And yet how diametrically opposite were the sentiments that actuated the +two scenes of which she had been spectator! So much that even the West +Indian woman--the child of a slave--knew the difference. + +"Prince!" responded Sabina, with a disdainful toss of the head, that +proclaimed her a loyal "Badian." "Prince in dis 'Merica country! +Dere's no sich ting. Dat fella dey make so much muss 'bout, he only a +'publican." + +"A publican?" + +"Yes, missy. You dem hear shout, `Vive de publique!' Dey all +'publicans in dis Unite States." + +The governor's daughter was nonplussed; she knew what publicans were. +She had lived in London where there is at least one in every street-- +inhabiting its most conspicuous house. But a whole nation of them? + +"All publicans!" she exclaimed, in surprise. "Come, Sabby, you're +telling me a story." + +"'Deed no, Miss Blanche. Sabby tell you de truth. True as gospels, +ebbery one of dese 'Merican people are 'publicans." + +"Who drinks it then?" + +"Drink what?" + +"Why, what they sell! The wine, and the beer, and the gin. In London +they don't have anything else--the publicans don't." + +"Oh! now I comprehend you, missy. I see you no me unerstan', chile. I +no mean dat sort as sell de drink. Totally different aldegidder. Dere +am republicans as doan believe in kings and kweens--not even in our good +Victorie. Dey believe only in de common people dat's bad and wicked." + +"Stuff, Sabby! I'm sure you must be mistaken. That young man isn't +wicked. At least he doesn't look so; and they believe in _him_. You +saw how they all honoured him; and though it does seem bold for those +girls to have kissed him, I think I would have done so myself. He +looked so proud, so beautiful, so good! He's ten times prettier than +the prince I saw in London. That he is!" + +"Hush up, chile! Doan let your fader, de royal gov'nor, hear you talk +dat way. He boun' be angry. I know he doan favour dem 'publicans, and +woan like you praise 'em. He hate 'em like pisen snake." + +Blanche made no rejoinder. She had not even listened to the sage +caution. Her ears had become closed to the speeches of Sabina at sight +of a man who was at that moment ascending the stair. + +It was he about whom they had been conversing. + +Once upon the deck he took his stand close to the spot where the child +was seated, looking back up the bay. + +As his face was slightly turned from her, she had a fair chance of +scrutinising him, without being detected. + +And she made this scrutiny with the ardent curiosity of a child. + +He was not alone. By his side was the man she had seen along with him +in the carriage. + +But she had no eyes for the middle-aged gentleman with huge grizzly +moustachios. Only for him, whose hand those girls had been so eager to +clasp and kiss. + +And she sat scanning him, with strange, wondering eyes, as the Zenaida +dove looks upon the shining constrictor. Scanning him from head to +foot, heedless of the speeches of Sabina, whose West Indian experience +must have made her acquainted with the fascination of the serpent. + +It was but the wonder of a child for something that has crossed its +track--something new and abnormal--grander than a toy--brighter, even, +than a fancy called up by the tales of Aladdin. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY. + +"THE WONDERING EYES." + +Once more Maynard stood upon the deck of a sea-going vessel, his eyes +bent upon the white seethy track lengthening out behind him. + +In its sea-view the Empire City is unfortunate, presenting scarce a +point worthy of being remembered. There is no salient feature like the +great dome of Saint Paul's, in London, the Arc de Triomphe, of Paris, or +even the Saint Charles Hotel, as you sweep round the English Turn, in +sight of New Orleans. In approaching New York City, your eye rests on +two or three sharp spires, more befitting the architecture of a village +church, and a mean-looking cupola, that may be the roof either of a +circus or gasworks! The most striking object is the curious circular +Castle with its garden behind it; but this requires a distant view to +hide its neglected condition; and, lying low, it becomes only prominent +when too near to stand scrutiny. + +In the improvement of this point, New York has a splendid opportunity to +redeem the shabbiness of its seaward aspect. It is still city property, +I believe; and if it had _Haussmart_, instead of _Hoffman_, for its +mayor, the city of Manhattan would soon present to its bay a front +worthy of this noble estuary. + +To return from our digression upon themes civic, economic, and +architectural, to the _Cambria_ steamer fast forging on toward the +ocean. + +The revolutionary leader had no such thoughts as he stood upon her deck, +taking the last look at the city of New York. His reflections were +different; one of them being, whether it was indeed to be his _last_! + +He was leaving a land he had long lived in, and loved: its people and +its institutions. He was proceeding upon an enterprise of great peril; +not as the legalised soldier, who has no fear before him save death on +the battle-field, or a period of imprisonment; but as a revolutionist +and rebel, who, if defeated, need expect no mercy--only a halter and a +tombless grave. + +It was at a time, however, when the word _rebel_ was synonymous with +_patriot_; before it became disgraced by that great rebellion--the first +in all history sinful and without just cause--the first that can be +called inglorious. + +Then the term was a title to be proud of--the thing itself a sacred +duty; and inspired by these thoughts, he looked before him without fear, +and behind with less regret. + +It would not be true to say, that he was altogether indifferent to the +scenes receding from his view. Many bonds of true friendship had been +broken; many hands warmly shaken, perhaps never to be grasped again! + +And there was one severance, where a still tenderer tie had been torn +asunder. + +But the spasm had passed some time ago--more keenly felt by him on the +deck of that steamer leaving the harbour of Newport. + +A week had elapsed since then--a week spent amidst exciting scenes and +in the companionship of kindred spirits--in the enrolling-room +surrounded by courageous filibusters--in the Bairisch beer-saloons with +exiled republican patriots--amidst the clinking of glasses, filled out +of long-necked Rhine wine bottles, and quaffed to the songs of Schiller, +and the dear German fatherland. + +It was fortunate for Maynard that this stormy life had succeeded the +tranquillity of the Newport Hotel. It enabled him to think less about +Julia Girdwood. Still was she in his mind, as the steamer left Staten +Island in her wake, and was clearing her way through the Narrows. + +But before Sandy Hook was out of sight, the proud girl had gone away +from his thoughts, and with the suddenness of thought itself! + +This quick forgetfulness calls for explanation. + +The last look at a land, where a sweetheart has been left behind, will +not restore the sighing heart to its tranquillity. It was not this that +had produced such an abrupt change in the spirit of the lover. + +No more was it the talk of Roseveldt, standing by his side, and pouring +into his ear those revolutionary ideas, for which the Count had so much +suffered. + +The change came from a cause altogether different, perhaps the only one +capable of effecting such a transformation. + +"_Un clavo saca otro clavo_," say the Spaniards, of all people the most +knowing in proverbial lore. "One nail drives out another." A fair face +can only be forgotten by looking upon one that is fairer. + +Thus came relief to Captain Maynard. + +Turning to go below, he saw a face so wonderfully fair, so strange +withal, that almost mechanically he stayed his intention, and remained +lingering on the deck. + +In less than ten minutes after, _he was in love with a child_! + +There are those who will deem this an improbability; perhaps pronounce +it unnatural. + +Nevertheless it was true; for we are recording an actual experience. + +As Maynard faced towards the few passengers that remained upon the upper +deck, most of them with eyes fixed upon the land they were leaving, he +noticed one pair that were turned upon himself. At first he read in +them only an expression of simple curiosity; and his own thought was the +same as he returned the glance. + +He saw a child with grand golden hair--challenging a second look. And +this he gave, as one who regards something pretty and superior of its +kind. + +But passing from the hair to the eyes, he beheld in them a strange, +wondering gaze, like that given by the gazelle or the fawn of the +fallow-deer, to the saunterer in a zoological garden, who has tempted it +to the edge of its enclosure. + +Had the glance been only transitory, Maynard might have passed on, +though not without remembering it. + +But it was not. The child continued to gaze upon him, regardless of all +else around. + +And so on till a man of graceful mien--grey-haired and of paternal +aspect--came alongside, caught her gently by the hand, and led her away, +with the intention of taking her below. + +On reaching the head of the stairway she glanced back, still with that +same wildering look; and again, as the bright face with its golden +glories sweeping down behind it, disappeared below the level of the +deck. + +"What's the matter with you, Maynard?" asked the Count, seeing that his +comrade had become suddenly thoughtful. "By the way you stand looking +after that little sprout, one might suppose her to be your own!" + +"My dear Count," rejoined Maynard, in an earnest, appealing tone, "I beg +you won't jest with me--at all events, don't laugh, when I tell you how +near you have hit upon my wish." + +"What wish?" + +"That she were my own." + +"As how?" + +"As my wife." + +"Wife! A child not fourteen years of age! _Cher capitaine_! you are +turning Turk! Such ideas are not becoming to a revolutionary leader. +Besides, you promised to have no other sweetheart than your sword! Ha-- +ha--ha! How soon you've forgotten the naiad of Newport!" + +"I admit it. I'm glad I have been able to do so. It was altogether +different. It was not true love, but only--never mind what. But now I +feel--don't laugh at me, Roseveldt. I assure you I am sincere. That +child has impressed me with a feeling I never had before. Her strange +look has done it. I know not why or wherefore she looked so. I feel as +if she had sounded the bottom of my soul! It may be fate, destiny-- +whatever you choose to call it--but as I live, Roseveldt, I have a +presentiment--she will yet be my wife!" + +"If such be her and your destiny," responded Roseveldt, "don't suppose I +shall do anything to obstruct its fulfilment. She appears to be the +daughter of a gentleman, though I must confess I don't much like his +looks. He reminds me of the class we are going to contend against. No +matter for that. The girl's only an infant; and before she can be ready +to marry you, all Europe may be Republican, and you a Presidant! Now, +_cher capitaine_! let us below, else the steward may have our fine +Havanas stowed away under hatches; and then such weeds as we'd have to +smoke during the voyage!" From sentiment to cigars was an abrupt +change. But Maynard was no romantic dreamer; and complying with his +fellow-traveller's request, he descended to the state-room to look after +the disposal of their portmanteaus. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. + +A SHORT-LIVED TRIUMPH. + +While the hero of C--was thus starting to seek fresh fame on a foreign +shore, he came very near having his escutcheon stained in the land he +was leaving behind him! + +At the time that his name was a shout of triumph in noisy New York, it +was being pronounced in the quiet circles of Newport with an accent of +scorn. + +By many it was coupled with the word "coward." + +Mr Swinton enjoyed his day of jubilee. + +It did not last long; though long enough to enable this accomplished +card-player to make a _coup_. + +From the repute obtained by the sham challenge, aided by the alliance of +Louis Lucas, he was not long in discovering some of those pigeons for +whose especial plucking he had made the crossing of the Atlantic. + +They were not so well feathered as he had expected to find them. Still +did he obtain enough to save him from the necessity of taking to a hack, +or the fair Frances to a mangle. + +For the cashiered guardsman--now transformed into a swindler--it +promised to be a golden time. But the promise was too bright to be of +long continuance, and his transient glory soon became clouded with +suspicion; while that of his late adversary was released from the stigma +that for a time had attached to it. + +A few days after Maynard had taken his departure from New York, it +became known why he had left so abruptly. The New York newspapers +contained an explanation of this. He had been elected to the leadership +of what was by them termed the "German expedition"; and had responded to +the call. + +Honourable as this seemed to some, it did not quite justify him in the +eyes of others, acquainted with his conduct in the affair with Swinton. +His insult to the Englishman had been gross in the extreme, and above +all considerations he should have stayed to give him satisfaction. + +But the papers now told of his being in New York. Why did Mr Swinton +not follow him there? This, of course, was but a reflection on the +opposite side, and both now appeared far from spotless. + +So far as regarded Maynard, the spots were at length removed; and before +he had passed out of sight of Sandy Hook, his reputation as a "gentleman +and man of honour" was completely restored. + +An explanation is required. In a few words it shall be given. + +Shortly after Maynard had left, it became known in the Ocean House that +on the morning after the ball, and at an early hour a strange gentleman +arriving by the New York boat had made his way to Maynard's room, +staying with him throughout the day. + +Furthermore, that a letter had been sent addressed to Mr Swinton, and +delivered to his valet. The waiter to whom it had been intrusted was +the authority for these statements. + +What could that letter contain? + +Mr Lucas should know, and Mr Lucas was asked. + +But he did not know. So far from being acquainted with the contents of +the letter in question, he was not even aware that an epistle had been +sent. + +On being told of it, he felt something like a suspicion of being +compromised, and at once determined on demanding from Swinton an +explanation. + +With this resolve he sought the Englishman in his room. + +He found him there, and with some surprise discovered him in familiar +discourse with his servant. + +"What's this I've heard, Mr Swinton?" he asked upon entering. + +"Aw--aw; what, my deaw Lucas?" + +"This letter they're talking about." + +"Lettaw--lettaw! I confess supweme ignowance of what you mean, my deaw +Lucas." + +"Oh, nonsense! Didn't you receive a letter from Maynard--the morning +after the ball?" + +Swinton turned white, looking in all directions except into the eyes of +Lucas. He was hesitating to gain time--not with the intention of +denying it. He knew that he dare not. + +"Oh! yas--yas!" he replied at length. "There was a lettaw--a very queaw +epistle indeed. I did not get it that day till after yaw had gone. My +valet Fwank, stoopid fellow! had thrown it into a cawner. I only wed it +on the following mawning." + +"You have it still, I suppose?" + +"No, indeed I lit my cigaw with the absawd epistle." + +"But what was it about?" + +"Well--well; it was a sort of apology on the part of Mr Maynard--to say +he was compelled to leave Newport by the evening bawt. It was signed by +his fwend Wupert Woseveldt, calling himself a Count of the Austwian +Empire. After weading it, and knowing that the writer was gone, I +didn't think it wawth while to twouble you any fawther about the +disagweeable business." + +"By Gad! Mr Swinton, that letter's likely to get us both into a +scrape!" + +"But why, my deaw fellow?" + +"Why? Because everybody wants to know what it was about. You say +you've destroyed it?" + +"Tore it into taypaws, I ashaw you." + +"More's the pity. It's well-known that a letter was sent and delivered +to your servant. Of course every one supposes that it came to your +hands. We're bound to give some explanation." + +"Twue--twue. What daw you suggest, Mr Lucas?" + +"Why, the best way will be to tell the truth about it. You got the +letter too late to make answer to it. It's already known _why_, so +that, so far as you are concerned, the thing can't be any worse. It +lets Maynard out of the scrape--that's all." + +"Yaw think we'd better make a clean bweast of it?" + +"I'm sure of it. We must." + +"Well, Mr Lucas, I shall agwee to anything yaw may think pwopaw. I am +so much indebted to yaw." + +"My dear sir," rejoined Lucas, "it's no longer a question of what's +proper. It is a necessity that this communication passed between Mr +Maynard and yourself should be explained. I am free, I suppose, to give +the explanation?" + +"Oh, pawfectly free. Of cawse--of cawse." + +Lucas left the room, determined to clear himself from all imputation. + +The outside world was soon after acquainted with the spirit, if not the +contents of that mysterious epistle; which re-established the character +of the man who wrote, while damaging that of him who received it. + +From that hour Swinton ceased to be an eagle in the estimation of the +Newport society. He was not even any longer a successful hawk--the +pigeons becoming shy. But his eyes were still bent upon that bird of +splendid plumage--far above all others--worth the swooping of a life! + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. + +THE CONSPIRACY OF CROWNS. + +The revolutionary throe that shook the thrones of Europe in 1848 was but +one of those periodical upheavings occurring about every half-century, +when oppression has reached that point to be no longer endurable. + +Its predecessor of 1790, after some fitful flashes of success, +alternating with intervals of gloom, had been finally struck down upon +the field of Waterloo, and there buried by its grim executioner, +Wellington. + +But the grave once more gave up its dead; and before this cold-blooded +janissary of despotism sank into his, he saw the ghost of that Liberty +he had murdered start into fresh life, and threaten the crowned tyrants +he had so faithfully served. + +Not only were they threatened, but many of them dethroned. The imbecile +Emperor of Austria had to flee from his capital, as also the +bureaucratic King of France. Weak William of Prussia was called to +account by his long-suffering subjects, and compelled, upon bended +knees, to grant them a Constitution. + +A score of little kinglets had to follow the example; while the Pope, +secret supporter of them all, was forced to forsake the Vatican--that +focus and hotbed of political and religious infamy--driven out by the +eloquent tongue of Mazzini and the conquering blade of Garibaldi. + +Even England, secure in a profound indifference to freedom and reform, +trembled at the cheers of the Chartists. + +Every crowned head in Europe had its "scare" or discomfiture; and, for a +time, it was thought that liberty was at length achieved. + +Alas! it was but a dream of the people--short-lived and evanescent--to +be succeeded by another long sleeps under an incubus, heavier and more +horrid than that they had cast off. + +While congratulating one another on their slight spasmodic success, +their broken fetters were being repaired, and new chains fabricated, to +bind them faster than ever. The royal blacksmiths were at work, and in +secret, like Vulcan at his subterranean forge. + +And they were working with a will, their object and interests being the +same. Their common danger had driven them to a united action, and it +was determined that their private quarrels should henceforth be set +aside--to be resuscitated only as shams, when any of them required such +fillip to stimulate the loyalty of his subjects. + +This was the new programme agreed upon. But, before it could be carried +out, it was necessary that certain of them should be assisted to recover +that ascendency over their people, lost in the late revolution. + +Sweeping like a tornado over Europe, it had taken one and all of them by +surprise. Steeped in luxurious indulgence--in the exercise of petty +spites and Sardanapalian excesses--confident in the vigilance of their +trusted sentinel, Wellington--they had not perceived the storm till it +came tearing over them. For the jailor of Europe's liberty was also +asleep! Old age, with its weakened intellect, had stolen upon him, and +he still dotingly believed in "Brown Bess," while Colt's revolver and +the needle-gun were reverberating in his ears. + +Yes, the victor of Waterloo was too old to aid the sons of those tyrant +sires he had re-established on their thrones. + +And they had no other military leader--not one. Among them there was +not a soldier, while on the side of the people were the Berns and +Dembinskys, Garibaldi, Damjanich, Klapka, and Anglo-Hungarian Guyon--a +constellation of flaming swords! As statesmen and patriots they had +none to compete with Kossuth, Manin, and Mazzini. + +In the field of fair fight--either military or diplomatic--the despots +stood no chance. They saw it, and determined upon _treachery_. + +For this they knew themselves provided with tools a plenty; but two that +promised to prove specially effective--seemingly created for the +occasion. One was an English nobleman--an Irishman by birth--born on +the outside edge of the aristocracy; who, by ingenious political +jugglery, had succeeded in making himself not only a very noted +character, but one of the most powerful diplomatists in Europe. + +And this without any extraordinary genius. On the contrary, his +intellect was of the humblest--never rising above that of the trickster. +As a member of the British Parliament his speeches were of a thoroughly +commonplace kind, usually marked by some attempted smartness that but +showed the puerility and poverty of his brain. He would often amuse the +House by pulling off half-a-dozen pairs of white kid gloves during the +delivery of one of his long written-out orations. It gave him an air of +aristocracy--no small advantage in the eyes of an English audience. + +For all this, he had attained to a grand degree of popularity, partly +from the pretence of being on the Liberal side, but more from paltering +to that fiend of false patriotism--national prejudice. + +Had his popularity been confined to his countrymen, less damage might +have accrued from it. + +Unfortunately it was not. By a professed leaning toward the interests +of the peoples, he had gained the confidence of the revolutionary +leaders all over Europe; and herein lay his power to do evil. + +It was by no mere accident this confidence had been obtained. It had +been brought about with a fixed design, and with heads higher than his +for its contrivers. In short, he was the appointed political spy of the +united despots--the decoy set by them for the destruction of their +common and now dreaded enemy--the Republic. + +And yet that man's name is still honoured in England, the country where, +for two hundred years, respect has been paid to the traducers of +Cromwell! + +The second individual on whom the frightened despots had fixed their +hopeful eyes was a man of a different race, though not so different in +character. + +He, too, had crept into the confidence of the revolutionary party by a +series of deceptions, equally well contrived, and by the same contrivers +who had put forward the diplomatist. + +It is true, the leaders of the people were not unsuspicious of him. The +hero of the Boulogne expedition, with the tamed eagle perched upon his +shoulder, was not likely to prove a soldier of Freedom, nor yet its +apostle; and in spite of his revolutionary professions, they looked upon +him with distrust. + +Had they seen him, as he set forth from England to assume the Presidency +of France, loaded with bags of gold--the contributions of the crowned +heads to secure it--they might have been sure of the part he was about +to play. + +He had been employed as a _dernier ressort_--a last political necessity +of the despots. Twelve months before they would have scorned such a +scurvy instrument, and did. + +But times had suddenly changed. Orleans and Bourbon were no longer +available. Both dynasties were defunct, or existing without influence. +There was but one power that could be used to crush republicanism in +France--the _prestige_ of that great name, Napoleon, once more in the +full sunlight of glory, with its sins forgiven and forgotten. + +He who now represented it was the very man for the work, for his +employers knew it was a task congenial to him. + +With coin in his purse, and an imperial crown promised for his reward, +he went forth, dagger in hand, sworn to stab Liberty to the heart! + +History records _how faithfully he has kept his oath_! + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. + +THE PROGRAMME OF THE GREAT POWERS. + +In a chamber of the Tuileries five men were seated around a table. + +Before them were decanters and glasses, wine bottles of varied shapes, +an epergne filled with choice flowers, silver trays loaded with luscious +fruits, nuts, olives--in short, all the materials of a magnificent +dessert. + +A certain odour of roast meats, passing off under the _bouquet_ of the +freshly-decanted wines, told of a dinner just eaten, the dishes having +been carried away. + +The gentlemen had taken to cigars, and the perfume of finest Havana +tobacco was mingling with the aroma of the fruit and flowers. Smoking, +sipping, and chatting with light nonchalance, at times even flippantly, +one could ill have guessed the subject of their conversation. + +And yet it was of so grave and _secret_ a nature, that the butler and +waiters had been ordered not to re-enter the room--the double door +having been close-shut on their dismissal--while in the corridor outside +a guard was kept by two soldiers in grenadier uniform. + +The five men, thus cautious against being overheard, were the +representatives of the Five Great Powers of Europe--England, Austria, +Russia, Prussia, and France. + +They were not the ordinary ambassadors who meet to arrange some trivial +diplomatic dispute, but plenipotentiaries with full power to shape the +destinies of a continent. + +And it was this that had brought together that five-cornered conclave, +consisting of an English Lord, an Austrian Field-Marshal, a Russian +Grand Duke, a distinguished Prussian diplomatist, and the President of +France--host of the other four. + +They were sitting in conspiracy against the peoples of Europe, set free +by the late revolutions--with the design to plot their re-enslavement. + +Their scheme of infamy had been maturely considered, and perfected +before adjourning to the dinner-table. + +There had been scarce any discussion; since, upon its main points, there +was mutual accord. + +Their after-dinner conversation was but a _resume_ of what had been +resolved upon--hence, perhaps, the absence of that gravity befitting +such weighty matter, and which had characterised their conference at an +earlier hour. + +They were now resting over their cigars and wines, jocularly agreeable, +as a band of burglars, who have arranged all the preliminaries for the +"cracking of a crib." + +The English lord seemed especially in good humour with himself and all +the others. Distinguished throughout his life for what some called an +amiable levity, but others thought to be an unamiable heartlessness, he +was in the element to delight him. Of origin not very noble, he had +attained to the plenitude of power, and now saw himself one of five men +entrusted with the affairs of the Great European Aristocracy, against +the European people. He had been one of the principal plotters-- +suggesting many points of the plan that had been agreed upon; and from +this, as also the greatness of the nation he represented, was +acknowledged as having a sort of tacit chairmanship over his +fellow-conspirators. + +The real presidency, however, was in the Prince-President--partly out of +regard to his high position, and partly that he was the host. + +After an hour or so passed in desultory conversation, the "man of a +mission," standing with his back to the fire, with hands parting his +coat tails--the habitual attitude of the Third Napoleon--took the cigar +from between his teeth, and made _resume_ as follows:-- + +"Understood, then, that you, Prussia, send a force into Baden, +sufficient to crush those pot-valiant German collegians, mad, no doubt, +from drinking your villainous Rhine wine!" + +"Mercy on Metternich, _cher President_. Think of Johanisberger!" + +It was the facetious Englishman who was answerable for this. + +"Ya, mein Prinz, ya," was the more serious response of the Prussian +diplomatist. "Give 'em grape, instead of grapes," put in the punster. +"And you, Highness, bind Russia to do the same for these hog-drovers of +the Hungarian Puszta?" + +"Two hundred thousand men are ready to march down upon them," responded +the Grand Duke. + +"Take care you don't catch a Tartar, _mon cher altesse_!" cautioned the +punning plenipotentiary. + +"You're quite sure of Georgei, Marshal?" went on the President, +addressing himself to the Austrian. + +"Quite. He hates this Kossuth as the devil himself; and perhaps a +little worse. He'd see him and his Honveds at the bottom of the Danube; +and I've no doubt will hand them over, neck and crop, as soon as our +Russian allies show themselves over the frontier." + +"And a crop of necks you intend gathering, I presume?" said the +heartless wit. + +"_Tres bien_!" continued the President, without noticing the sallies of +his old friend, the lord. "I, on my part, will take care of Italy. I +think I can trust superstition to assist me in restoring poor old Pio +Nono." + +"Your own piety will be sufficient excuse for that, _mon Prince_. 'Tis +a holy crusade, and who more fitted than you to undertake it? With +Garibaldi for your Saladin, you will be called Louis of the Lion-heart!" + +The gay viscount laughed at his own conceit; the others joining him in +the cachinnation. + +"Come, my lord!" jokingly rejoined the Prince-President, "it's not meet +for you to be merry. John Bull has an easy part to play in this grand +game!" + +"Easy, you call it? He's got to provide the stakes--the monisch. And, +after all, what does he gain by it?" + +"What does he gain by it? _Pardieu_! You talk that way in memory of +your late scare by the Chartists? _Foi d'honnete homme_! if I hadn't +played special constable for him, you, _cher vicomte_, instead of being +here as a plenipotentiary, might have been this day enjoying my +hospitality as an exile!" + +"Ha--ha--ha! Ha--ha--ha!" + +Grave Sclave, and graver Teuton--Russia, Prussia, and Austria--took part +in the laugh; all three delighted with this joke at the Englishman's +expense. + +But their _debonnaire_ fellow-conspirator felt no spite at his +discomfiture; else he might have retorted by saying: + +"But for John Bull, my dear Louis Napoleon, and that service you pretend +to make light of, even the purple cloak of your great uncle, descending +as if from the skies, and flouted in the eyes of France, might not have +lifted you into the proud position you now hold--the chair of a +President, perhaps to be yet transformed into the throne of an Emperor!" + +But the Englishman said naught of this. He was too much interested in +the hoped-for transformation to make light of it just then; and instead +of giving rejoinder, he laughed loud as any of them. + +A few more glasses of Moet and Madeira, with a "tip" of Tokay to +accommodate the Austrian Field-Marshal, another regalia smoked amidst +more of the same kind of _persiflage_, and the party separated. + +Two only remained--Napoleon and his English guest. + +It is possible--and rather more than probable--that two greater +_chicanes_ never sat together in the same room! + +I anticipate the start which this statement will call forth--am prepared +for the supercilious sneer. It needs experience, such as revolutionary +leaders sometimes obtain, to credit the _scoundrelism_ of conspiring +crowns; though ten minutes spent in listening to the conversation that +followed would make converts of the most incredulous. + +There was no lack of confidence between the two men. On the contrary, +theirs was the thickness of thieves; and much in this light did they +look upon one another. + +But they were thieves on a grand scale, who had stolen from France +one-half of its liberty, and were now plotting to deprive it of the +other. + +Touching glasses, they resumed discourse, the Prince speaking first: + +"About this purple robe? What step should be taken? Until I've got +that on my shoulders, I feel weak as a cat. The Assembly must be +consulted about everything. Even this paltry affair of restoring the +Pope will cost me a herculean effort." + +The English plenipotentiary did not make immediate reply. Tearing a kid +glove between his fingers, he sat reflecting--his very common face +contorted with an expression that told of his being engaged in some +perplexing calculation. + +"You must make the Assembly more _tractable_," he at length replied, in +a tone that showed the joking humour had gone out of him. + +"True. But how is that to be done?" + +"By weeding it." + +"Weeding it?" + +"Yes. You must get rid of the Blancs, Rollins, Barbes, and all that +_canaille_." + +"_Eh bien_! But how?" + +"By disfranchising their _sans culottes_ constituency--the blouses." + +"_Mon cher vicomte_! You are surely jesting?" + +"No, _mon cher prince_. I'm in earnest." + +"_Sacre_! Such a bill brought before the Assembly would cause the +members to be dragged from their seats. Disfranchise the blouse voters! +Why, there are two millions of them?" + +"All the more reason for your getting rid of them. And _it can be +done_. You think there's a majority of the deputies who would be in +favour of it?" + +"I'm sure there is. As you know, we've got the Assembly packed with the +representatives of the _old regime_. The fear would be from the outside +rabble. A crowd would be certain to gather, if such an act was in +contemplation, and you know what a Parisian crowd is, when the question +is political?" + +"But I've thought of a way of scattering your crowd, or rather hindering +it from coming together." + +"What way, _mon cher_!" + +"We must get up the comb of the Gallic cock--set his feathers on end." + +"I don't comprehend you." + +"It's very simple. On our side we'll insult your ambassador, De Morny-- +some trifling affront that can be afterward explained and apologised +for. I'll manage that. You then recall him in great anger, and let the +two nations be roused to an attitude of hostility. An exchange of +diplomatic notes, with sufficient and spiteful wording, some sharp +articles in the columns of your Paris press--I'll see to the same on our +side--the marching hither and thither of a half-dozen regiments, a +little extra activity in the dockyards and arsenals, and the thing's +done. While the Gallic cock is crowing on one side of the Channel, and +the British bull-dog barking on the other, your Assembly may pass the +disfranchising act without fear of being disturbed by the blouses. Take +my word it can be done." + +"My lord! you're a genius!" + +"There's not much genius in it. It's simple as a game of dominoes." + +"It shall be done. You promise to kick De Morny out of your court. +Knowing the reason, no man will like it better than he!" + +"I promise it." + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +The promise was kept. De Morny was "kicked out" with a silken slipper, +and the rest of the programme was carried through--even to the +disfranchising of the blouses. + +It was just as the English diplomat had predicted. The French people, +indignant at the supposed slight to their ambassador, in their mad +hostility to England, lost tight of themselves; and while in this rabid +condition, another grand slice was quietly cut from their fast +attenuating freedom. + +And the programme of that more extensive, and still more sanguinary, +conspiracy was also carried out to the letter. + +Before the year had ended, the perjured King of Prussia had marched his +myrmidons into South Germany, trampling out the revived flame of Badish +and Bavarian revolution; the ruffian soldiers of the Third Napoleon had +forced back upon the Roman people their detested hierarch; while a grand +Cossack army of two hundred thousand men was advancing iron-heeled over +the plain of the Puszta to tread out the last spark of liberty in the +East. + +This is not romance: it is history! + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. + +A TREACHEROUS STAGING. + +Men make the crossing of the Atlantic in a Cunard steamer, sit side by +side, or _vis-a-vis_, at the same table, three and sometimes four times +a day, without ever a word passing between them, beyond the formulary +"May I trouble you for the castors?" or "The salt, please?" + +They are usually men who have a very beautiful wife, a rich marriageable +daughter, or a social position of which they are proud. + +No doubt these vulnerable individuals lead a very unhappy life of it on +board ship; especially when the cabin is crowded, and the company not +over select. + +This occurs on a Cunarder only when the Canadian shopkeepers are +flocking for England, to make their fall purchases in the Manchester +market. Then, indeed, the crossing of the Atlantic is a severe trial to +a gentleman, whether he be English or American. + +The _Cambria_ was full of them; and their company might have tried Sir +George Vernon, who was one of the assailable sort described. But as +these loyal transatlantic subjects of England had heard that he was +_Sir_ George Vernon, late governor of B--, it was hands off with them, +and the ex-governor was left to his exclusiveness. + +For the very opposite reason was their company less tolerable to the +Austrian Count; who, republican as he was, could not bear the sight of +them. Their loyalty stank in his nostrils; and he seemed to long for an +opportunity of pitching one of them overboard. + +Indeed there was once he came near, and perhaps would have done so, but +for the mediation of Maynard, who, although younger than the Count, was +of less irascible temperament. + +Roseveldt was not without reason, as every American who has crossed in a +Cunard ship in those earlier days may remember. The super-loyal +Canadians were usually in the ascendant, and with their claqueries and +whisperings made it very uncomfortable for their republican +fellow-passengers--especially such republicans as the scene upon the +Jersey shore had shown Maynard and Roseveldt to be. It was before the +establishment of the more liberal Inman line; whose splendid ships are a +home for all nationalities, hoisting the starry flag of America as high +as the royal standard of England. + +Returning to our text; that men may cross the Atlantic in the same +cabin, and dine at the same table, without speaking to one another, +there was an instance on board the _Cambria_. The individuals in +question were Sir George Vernon and Captain Maynard. + +At every meal their elbows almost touched; for the steward, no doubt by +chance, had ticketed them to seats side by side. + +At the very first dinner they had ever eaten together a coldness had +sprung up between them that forbade all further communication. Some +remark Maynard had made, intended to be civil, had been received with a +hauteur that stung the young soldier; and from that moment a silent +reserve was established. + +Either would have gone without the salt, rather than ask it of the +other! + +It was unfortunate for Maynard, and he felt it. He longed to converse +with that strangely interesting child; and this was no longer possible. +Delicacy hindered him from speaking to her apart; though he could scarce +have found opportunity, as her father rarely permitted her to stray from +his side. + +And by his side she sat at the table; on that other side where Maynard +could not see her, except in the mirror! + +That mirror lined the length of the saloon, and the three sat opposite +to it when at table. + +For twelve days he gazed into it, during the eating of every meal; +furtively at the face of Sir George, his glance changing as it fell on +that other face reflected from the polished plate in hues of rose and +gold. How often did he inwardly anathematise a Canadian Scotchman, who +sat opposite, and whose huge shaggy "pow" interposed between him and the +beautiful reflection! + +Was the child aware of this secondhand surveillance? Was she, too, at +times vexed by the exuberant _chevelure_ of the Caledonian, that +hindered her from the sight of eyes gazing affectionately, almost +tenderly, upon her? + +It is difficult to say. Young girls of thirteen have sometimes strange +fancies. And it is true, though strange, that, with them, the man of +thirty has more chance of securing their attention than when they are +ten years older! Then their young heart, unsuspicious of deception, +yields easier to the instincts of Nature's innocency, receiving like +soft plastic wax the impress of that it admires. It is only later that +experience of the world's wickedness trains it to reticence and +suspicion. + +During those twelve days Maynard had many a thought about that child's +face seen in the glass--many a surmise as to whether, and what, she +might be thinking of him. + +But Cape Clear came in sight, and he was no nearer to a knowledge of her +inclinings than when he first saw her, on parting from Sandy Hook! Nor +was there any change in his. As he stood upon the steamer's deck, +coasting along the southern shore of his native land, with the Austrian +by his side, he made the same remark he had done within sight of Staten +Island. + +"I have a presentiment that child will yet be my wife!" + +And again he repeated it, in the midst of the Mersey's flood, when the +tender became attached to the great ocean steamer, and the passengers +were being taken off--among them Sir George Vernon and his daughter-- +soon to disappear from his sight--perhaps never to be seen more. + +What could be the meaning of this presentiment, so seemingly absurd? +Sprung from the gaze given him on the deck, where he had first seen her; +continued by many a glance exchanged in the cabin mirror; left by her +last look as she ascended the steps leading to the stage-plank of the +tender--what could be its meaning? + +Even he who felt it could not answer the question. He could only repeat +to himself the very unsatisfactory rejoinder he had often heard among +the Mexicans, "_Quien sabe_?" + +He little thought how near that presentiment was of being strengthened. + +One of those trivial occurrences, that come so close to becoming an +accident, chanced, as the passengers were being transferred from the +steamer to the "tug." + +The aristocratic ex-governor, shy of being hustled by a crowd, had +waited to the last, his luggage having been passed before him. Only +Maynard, Roseveldt, and a few others still stood upon the gangway, +politely giving him place. + +Sir George had stepped out upon the staging, his daughter close +following; the mulatto, bag in hand, with some space intervening, +behind. + +A rough breeze was on the Mersey, with a strong quick current; and by +some mischance the hawser, holding the two boats together, suddenly gave +way. The anchored ship held her ground, while the tug drifted rapidly +sternward. The stage-plank became slewed, its outer end slipping from +the paddle-box just as Sir George set foot upon the tender. With a +crash it went down upon the deck below. + +The servant, close parting from the bulwarks, was easily dragged back +again; but the child, halfway along the staging, was in imminent danger +of being projected into the water. The spectators saw it +simultaneously, and a cry from both ships proclaimed the peril. She had +caught the hand-rope, and was hanging on, the slanted plank affording +her but slight support. + +And in another instant it would part from the tender, still driving +rapidly astern. It _did_ part, dropping with a plash upon the seething +waves below; but not before a man, gliding down the slope, had thrown +his arm around the imperilled girl, and carried her safely back over the +bulwarks of the steamer! + +There was no longer a coldness between Sir George Vernon and Captain +Maynard; for it was the latter who had rescued the child. + +As they parted on the Liverpool landing, hands were shaken, and cards +exchanged--that of the English baronet accompanied with an invitation +for the revolutionary leader to visit him at his country-seat; the +address given upon the card, "Vernon Park, Sevenoaks, Kent." + +It is scarce necessary to say that Maynard promised to honour the +invitation, and made careful registry of the address. + +And now, more than ever, did he feel that strange forecast, as he saw +the girlish face, with its deep blue eyes, looking gratefully from the +carriage-window, in which Sir George, with his belongings, was whirled +away from the wharf. + +His gaze followed that thing of roseate hue; and long after it was out +of sight he stood thinking of it. + +It was far from agreeable to be aroused from his dreamy reverie--even by +a voice friendly as that of Roseveldt! + +The Count was by his side; holding in his hand a newspaper. + +It was the _Times_ of London, containing news to them of painful import. + +It did not come as a shock. The journals brought aboard by the pilot-- +as usual, three days old--had prepared them for a tale of disaster. +What they now read was only its confirmation. + +"It's true!" said Roseveldt, pointing to the conspicuous capitals: + + THE PRUSSIAN TROOPS HAVE TAKEN RASTADT! + THE BAVARIAN REVOLUTION AT AN END! + +As he pointed to this significant heading, a wild oath, worthy of one of +Schiller's student robbers, burst from his lips, while he struck his +heel down upon the floating wharf as though he would have crushed the +plank beneath him. + +"A curse!" he cried, "an eternal curse upon the perjured King of +Prussia! And those stupid North Germans! I knew he would never keep +his oath to them?" + +Maynard, though sad, was less excited. It is possible that he bore the +disappointment better by thinking of that golden-haired girl. She would +still be in England; where he must needs now stay. + +This was his first reflection. It was not a resolve; only a transient +thought. + +It passed almost on the instant, at an exclamation from Roseveldt once +more reading from the paper: + +"_Kossuth still holds out in Hungary; though the Russian army is +reported as closing around Arad_!" + +"Thank God?" cried Roseveldt; "we may yet be in time for that!" + +"Should we not wait for our men? I fear we two could be of slight +service without them." + +The remembrance of that angelic child was making an angel of Maynard! + +"Slight service! A sword like yours, and _mine_! _Pardonnes moi_! Who +knows, _cher capitaine_, that I may not yet sheathe it in the black +heart of a Hapsburg? Let us on to Hungary! It is the same cause as +ours." + +"I agree, Roseveldt. I only hesitated, thinking of your danger if taken +upon Austrian soil." + +"Let them hang me if they will. But they won't, if we can only reach +Kossuth and his brave companions, Aulich, Perezel, Dembinsky, Nagy, +Sandor, and Damjanich. Maynard, I know them all. Once among these, +there is no danger of the rope. If we die, it will be sword in hand, +and among heroes. Let us on, then, to Kossuth!" + +"To Kossuth!" echoed Maynard, and the golden-haired girl was forgotten! + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. + +THE FIFTH AVENUE HOUSE. + +The Newport season was over. Mrs Girdwood had returned to her splendid +mansion in the Fifth Avenue, soon to receive a visitor, such as even +Fifth Avenue houses do not often entertain--an English lord--Mr +Swinton, the nobleman _incog._, had accepted her invitation to dinner. + +It was to be a quiet family affair. Mrs Girdwood could not well have +it otherwise, as the circle of her acquaintance fit to meet such a +distinguished guest was limited. She had not been long in the Fifth +Avenue house--only since a little before the death of her late husband, +the deceased storekeeper, who had taken the place at her earnest +solicitations. + +In fact it was whispered that the grand mansion had caused his death. +It was too splendid for comfort--it required a complete change in his +habits; and perhaps he was troubled about the expense, which was +wholesale, while he had been all his life accustomed to the retail. + +From whatever cause, his spirits sank under its lofty ceilings, and +after wandering for three months through the spacious apartments, +listening to his own lonely tread, he lay down upon one of its luxurious +couches and died! + +It was more cheerful after his demise; but as yet unvisited by the +_elite_. Mr Swinton was the first of this class who was to stretch his +limbs under the Girdwood mahogany; but then he was at the head of it. A +good beginning, reflected widow Girdwood. + +"We shall have no one to meet you, my lord. We are too busy in +preparing for our voyage to Europe. Only the girls and myself. I hope +you won't mind that." + +"Pway madam, don't mention it. Yaw own intewesting family; just the +sort of thing I take pleasyaw in. Nothing baws me more than one of +those gweat pawties--gwand kwushes, as we call them in England." + +"I'm glad of it, my lord. We shall expect you then on next Tuesday. +Remember, we dine at seven." + +This brief dialogue occurred in the Ocean House at Newport, just as Mrs +Girdwood was getting into the hack to be taken to the New York boat. + +Tuesday came, and along with it Mr Swinton, entering the Fifth Avenue +mansion at 7 p.m., punctual to his appointment. The house was lit up +brilliantly, and in the same style was the guest got up, having dressed +himself with the greatest care. So, too, the hostess, her daughter, and +niece. + +But the dining party was not yet complete; two others were expected, who +soon came in. + +They were Mr Lucas and his acolyte, also returned to New York, and who, +having made Mrs Girdwood's acquaintance at Newport, through the medium +of Mr Swinton, were also included in the invitation. + +It made the party compact and in proportion; three ladies, with the same +number of gentlemen--the set of six--though perhaps in the eyes of the +latter their hostess was _de trop_. Lucas had conceived thoughts about +Julia, while his friend saw stars in the blue eyes of Cornelia. All +sorted together well enough; Mr Swinton being of course the lion of the +evening. This from his being a stranger--an accomplished Englishman. +It was but natural courtesy. Again, Mrs Girdwood longed to make known +how great a lion he was. But Mr Swinton had sworn her to secrecy. + +Over the dinner-table the conversation was carried on without restraint. +People of different nations, who speak the same language, have no +difficulty in finding a topic. Their respective countries supply them +with this. America was talked of; but more England. Mrs Girdwood was +going there by the next steamer--state-rooms already engaged. It was +but natural she should make inquiries. + +"About your hotels in London, Mr Swinton. Of course we'll have to stop +at an hotel. Which do you consider the best?" + +"Clawndon, of cawse. Clawndon, in Bond Stweet. Ba all means go there, +madam." + +"The Clarendon," said Mrs Girdwood, taking out her card-case, and +pencilling the name upon a card. "Bond Street, you say?" + +"Bond Stweet. It's our fashionable pwomenade, or rather the stweet +where our best twadesmen have their shops." + +"We shall go there," said Mrs Girdwood, registering the address, and +returning the card-case to her reticule. + +It is not necessary to detail the conversation that followed. It is +usually insipid over a dinner-table where the guests are strange to one +another; and Mrs Girdwood's guests came under this category. + +For all that, everything went well and even cheerfully, Julia alone at +times looking a little abstracted, and so causing some slight chagrin +both to Lucas and Swinton. + +Now and then, however, each had a glance from those bistre-coloured +eyes, that flattered them with hopes for the future. + +They were dread, dangerous eyes, those of Julia Girdwood. Their glances +had come near disturbing the peace of mind of a man as little +susceptible as either Louis Lucas or Richard Swinton. + +The dinner-party was over; the trio of gentlemen guests were taking +their departure. + +"When may we expect you in England, my lord?" asked the hostess, +speaking to Mr Swinton apart. + +"By the next steamaw, madam. I wegwet I shall not have the pleasyaw of +being your fellaw passengaw. I am detained in this countwy by a twifle +of business, in connection with the Bwitish Government. A gweat baw it +is, but I cannot escape it." + +"I am sorry," answered Mrs Girdwood. "It would have been so pleasant +for us to have had your company on the voyage. And my girls too, I'm +sure they would have liked it exceedingly. But I hope we'll see you on +the other side." + +"Undoubtedly, madam. Indeed, I should be vewy misewable to think we +were not to meet again. You go diwect to London, of cawse. How long do +you pwopose wemaining there?" + +"Oh, a long time--perhaps all the winter. After that we will go up the +Rhine--to Vienna, Paris, Italy. We intend making the usual tour." + +"You say you will stop at the Clawndon?" + +"We intend so, since you recommend it. We shall be there as long as we +remain in London." + +"I shall take the libawty of pwesenting my wespects to you, as soon as I +weach England." + +"My lord! we shall look for you." + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +The drawing-room door was closed, the ladies remaining inside. The +three gentlemen guests were in the entrance hall, footman and butler +helping them to hat and surtout. Though they had not come in, all three +went out together. + +"Where now?" asked Lucas, as they stood upon the flags of the Fifth +Avenue. "It's too early to go to bed." + +"A vewy sensible obsawvation, fwiend Lucas!" said Swinton, inspired by a +free potation of the widow's choice wines. "Where do yaw say?" + +"Well, I say, let's have some sport. Have you got any money upon you, +Mr Swinton?" + +Mr Lucas was still ignorant that his companion was a lord. + +"Oh, yas--yas. A thousand of your demmed dollars, I believe." + +"Excuse me for putting the question. I only asked in case you might +require a stake. If you do, my little pile's at your service." + +"Thanks--thanks! I'm weady for spawt--stake all pawvided." + +Lucas led the way, from the Fifth Avenue to Broadway, and down Broadway +to a "hell;" one of those snug little establishments in an off-street, +with supper set out, to be eaten only by the initiated. + +Swinton became one of them. Lucas had reasons for introducing him. His +reflections were: + +"This Englishman appears to have money--more than he knows what to do +with. But he didn't drop any of it in Newport. On the contrary, he +must have increased his capital by the plucking of certain pigeons to +whom I introduced him. I'm curious to see how he'll get along with the +hawks. He's among them now." + +The introducer of Swinton had an additional reflection suggested by the +remembrance of Julia Girdwood. + +"I hope they'll get his dollars--clear him out, the cur--and serve him +right too. I believe he's a devilish schemer." The wish had jealousy +for its basis. + +Before the gambler proclaimed his bank closed for the night, the false +friend saw the realisation of his hopes. + +Despite his customary astuteness, the ex-guardsman was not cunning in +his cups. The free supper, with its cheap champagne, had reduced him to +a condition of innocence resembling the pigeons he was so fain to pluck, +and he left the hawks' nest without a dollar in his pocket! + +Lucas lent him one to pay for the hack that carried him to his hotel; +and thus the two parted! + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. + +ELJEN KOSSUTH! + +An autumn sun was just rising over the plains of the yellow Theiss, when +two travellers, issuing from the gates of the old fortified city of +Arad, took their way toward the village of Vilagos, some twenty miles +distant. + +It is scarce necessary to say they were on horseback. Men do not +journey afoot on the plains of the "Puszta." + +Their military costume was in keeping with the scene around. Not as it +would have been in its normal and usual state, with the _ihaz_ quietly +attending his swine drove, and the _csiko_ galloping after his half-wild +colts and cattle. For Arad was now the headquarters of the Hungarian +army, and the roads around it hourly echoed the tread of the Honved, and +hoofstroke of the hussar. + +The patriot force of less than thirty thousand men had moved upon +Vilagos, there to meet the Austro-Russian advance, of just four times +their number; Georgei the commanding general on one side, and Rudiger on +the other. + +The two horsemen had reached Arad but the night before, coming from the +West. They had arrived too late to go out with the patriot troops, and +seemed now hurrying on to overtake them. + +Though in uniform, as we have already said, it was not that belonging to +any branch of the Hungarian service. No more did it resemble any one of +the varied military costumes worn by the allied enemy. Both were +habited very much alike; in simple undress frocks of dark-blue cloth, +with gold-lace pantaloons of brighter blue, and banded forage-caps. + +With Colt's revolver pistols--then an arm scarce known--worn in a +holstered waistbelt, steel sabres hanging handy against their thighs, +and short Jager rifles slung, _en bandolier_; behind them, the dress +looked warlike enough; and, on whatever side, it was evident the two +travellers intended fighting. + +This was further manifest from their anxious glances cast ahead, and the +way they pressed their horses forward, as if fearing to be too late for +the field. + +They were of different ages; one over forty, the other about +twenty-five. + +"I don't like the look of things about Arad," said the elder, as they +checked up for a time, to breathe their horses. + +"Why, Count?" asked his companion. + +"There seems to be a bad electricity in the air--a sort of general +distrust." + +"In what, or whom?" + +"In Georgei. I could see that the people have lost confidence in him. +They even suspect that he's playing traitor, and has thoughts of +surrendering to the enemy." + +"What! Georgei--their favourite general! Is he not so?" + +"Of the old army, yes. But not of the new levies or the people. In my +opinion, the worst thing that could have happened to them is his having +become so. It's the old story of regulars _versus_ volunteers. He +hates the Honveds, and Kossuth for creating them, just as in our little +Mexican skirmish, there was a jealousy between West Pointers and the +newly-raised regiments. + +"There are thousands of donkeys in Hungary, as in the United States, who +believe that to be a soldier a man must go through some sort of a +routine training--forgetting all about Cromwell of England, Jackson of +America, and a score of the like that might be quoted. Well, these +common minds, running in the usual groove, believe that Georgei, because +he was once an officer in the Austrian regular army, should be the +trusted man of the time; and they've taken him up, and trusted him +without further questioning. I know him well. We were at the military +school together. A cool, scheming fellow, with the head of a chemist +and the heart of an alchemist. Of himself he has accomplished nothing +yet. The brilliant victories gained on the Hungarian side--and +brilliant have they been--have all been due to the romantic enthusiasm +of these fiery Magyars, and the dash of such generals as Nagy Sandor, +Damjanich, and Guyon. There can be no doubt that, after the successes +on the Upper Danube, the patriot army could have marched unmolested into +Vienna, and there dictated terms to the Austrian Empire. The emperor's +panic-stricken troops were absolutely evacuating the place, when, +instead of a pursuing enemy, news came after them that the victorious +general had turned back with his whole army, to lay siege to the +fortress of Ofen! To capture an insignificant garrison of less than six +thousand men! Six weeks were spent in this absurd side movement, +contrary to the counsels of Kossuth, who had never ceased to urge the +advance on Vienna. Georgei did just what the Austrians wanted him to +do--giving their northern allies time to come down; and down they have +come." + +"But Kossuth was Governor--Dictator! Could he not command the advance +you speak of?" + +"He commanded it all he could, but was not obeyed. Georgei had already +sapped his influence, by poisoning the minds of the military leaders +against him--that is, the factious who adhered to himself, the old +regulars, whom he had set against the new levies and Honveds. `Kossuth +is not a soldier, only a lawyer,' said they; and this was sufficient. +For all their talk, Kossuth has given more proofs of soldiership and +true generalship than Georgei and his whole clique. He has put an army +of two hundred thousand men in the field; armed and equipped it. And he +created it absolutely out of nothing! The patriots had only two hundred +pounds weight of gunpowder, and scarce such a thing as a gun, when this +rising commenced. And the saltpetre was dug out of the mine, and the +iron smelted, and the cannon cast. Ay, in three months there was a +force in the field such as Napoleon would have been proud of. My dear +captain, there is more proof of military genius in this, than in the +winning of a dozen battles. It was due to Kossuth alone. Alone he +accomplished it all--every detail of it. Louis Kossuth not a general, +indeed! In the true sense of the word, there has been none such since +Napoleon. Even in this last affair of Ofen, it is now acknowledged, he +was right; and that they should have listened to his cry, `On to +Vienna!'" + +"Clearly it has been a sad blunder." + +"Not so clearly, Captain; not so clearly. I wish it were. There is +reason to fear it is worse." + +"What mean you, Count?" + +"I mean, treason." + +"Ha!" + +"The turning back for that useless siege looks confoundedly like it. +And this constantly retreating down the right bank of the Theiss, +without crossing over and forming a junction with Sandor. Every day the +army melting away, becoming reduced by thousands! _Sacre_! if it be so, +we've had our long journey for nothing; and poor liberty will soon see +her last hopeless struggle on the plains of the Puszta, perhaps her last +in all Europe! _Ach_!" + +The Count, as he made this exclamation, drove the spur hard against the +ribs of his horse, and broke off into a gallop, as if determined to take +part in that struggle, however hopeless. + +The younger man, seemingly inspired by the same impulse, rode rapidly +after. + +Then gallop was kept up until the spire of Vilagos came in sight, +shooting up over the groves of olive and acacia embowering the Puszta +village. + +Outside on the skirts of the far-spreading town they could see tents +pitched upon the plain, with standards floating over them--cavalry +moving about in squadrons--infantry standing in serried ranks--here and +there horsemen in hussar uniforms hurrying from point to point, their +loose dolmans trailing behind them. They could hear the rolling of +drums, the braying of bugles, and, away far beyond, the booming of great +guns. + +"Who goes there?" came the abrupt hail of a sentry speaking in the +Magyar tongue, while a soldier in Honved dress showed himself in the +door of a shepherd's hut. He was the spokesman of a picket-guard +concealed within the house. + +"Friends!" answered the Austrian Count, in the same language in which +the hail had been given. "Friends to the cause: _Eljen Kossuth_!" + +At the magic words the soldier lowered his carbine, while his half-dozen +comrades came crowding out from their concealment. + +A pass to headquarters, obtained by the Count in Arad, made the parley +short, and the two travellers continued their journey amidst cries of +"Eljen Kossuth!" + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. + +THE BROKEN SWORDS. + +In half an hour afterwards, Count Roseveldt and Captain Maynard--for it +was they who were thus rapidly travelling--reached Vilagos, and passed +on to the camp of the Hungarian army. + +They halted near its centre, in front of the marquee occupied by its +commander-in-chief. They had arrived just in time to witness a +remarkable scene--none more so on military record. + +Around them were officers of all ranks, and of every conceivable arm of +service. They were standing in groups talking excitedly, now and then +an individual crossing hastily from one to the other. + +There was all the evidence of warlike preparation, but as if under some +mysterious restraint. This could be read in scowling looks and mutinous +mutterings. + +In the distance was heard the continuous roaring of artillery. + +They knew whence it came, and what was causing it. They knew it was +from Temesvar, where Nagy Sandor, with his attenuated corps of heroes, +was holding the large army of Rudiger in check. + +Yes, their brilliant and beloved comrade; Nagy Sandor, that splendid +cavalry officer--before whom even the _beau sabreur_ of France sinks +into a second place--was fighting an unequal fight! + +It was the thought of this that was causing the dark looks and angry +mutterings. + +Going up to a group of officers, the Count asked for an explanation. +They were in hussar uniforms, and appeared to be more excited than the +others. + +One of them sprang forward, and grasped him by the hand, exclaiming: + +"Roseveldt!" + +It was an old comrade, who had recognised him. + +"There's some trouble among you?" said the Count, scarce staying to +return the salutation. "What is it, my dear friend?" + +"You hear those guns?" + +"Of course I do." + +"It's the brave Sandor fighting against no end of odds. And this +scheming chemist won't give us the order to go to his assistance. He +stays inside his tent like some Oracle of Delphi. Dumb, too, for he +don't make a response. Would you believe it, Roseveldt; we suspect him +of treason?" + +"If you do," responded the Count, "you're great fools to wait for his +bringing it to maturity. You should advance without his orders. For my +part, and I can speak, too, for my comrade here, I shan't stay here, +while there's fighting farther on. Our cause is the same as yours; and +we've come several thousand miles to draw swords in it. We were too +late for the Baden affair; and by staying here with you we may again get +disappointed. Come, Maynard! _We_ have no business at Vilagos. Let us +go on to Temesvar!" + +Saying this, the Count strode brusquely back toward his horse, still +under the saddle, the captain keeping pace with him. Before they could +mount, there arose a scene that caused them to stand by their stirrups, +holding their bridles in hand. + +The hussar officers, among whom were several of high rank, generals and +colonels, had overheard the speeches of Roseveldt. The Count's friend +had made them acquainted with his name. + +It needed not for them to know his title, to give influence to what he +had said. His words were like red-hot cinders pitched into a barrel of +gunpowder, and almost as instantaneous was the effect. + +"Georgei _must_ give the order?" cried one, "or we shall advance without +it. What say you, comrades?" + +"We're all agreed!" responded a score of voices, the speakers clutching +at their sword-hilts, and facing toward the marquee of the +commander-in-chief. + +"Listen?" said their leader, an old general, with steel-grey moustaches +sweeping back to his ears. "You hear that? Those are the guns of +Rudiger. Too well do I know their accursed tongues. Poor Sandor's +ammunition is all spent. He must be in retreat?" + +"We shall stop it!" simultaneously exclaimed a dozen. "Let us demand +the order to advance! To his tent, comrades! to his tent!" + +There could be no mistaking which tent; for, with the cry still +continuing, the hussar officers rushed toward the marquee--the other +groups pouring in, and closing around it, after them. + +Several rushed inside; their entrance succeeded by loud words, in tones +of expostulation. + +They came out again, Georgei close following. He looked pale, +half-affrighted, though it was perhaps less fear than the consciousness +of a guilty intent. + +He had still sufficient presence of mind to conceal it. + +"Comrades!" he said, with an appealing look at the faces before him, "my +children! Surely you can trust to me? Have I not risked my life for +your sake--for the sake of our beloved Hungary? I tell you it would be +of no use to advance. It would be madness, ruin. We are here in an +advantageous position. We must stay and defend it! Believe me, 'tis +our only hope." + +The speech so earnest--so apparently sincere--caused the mutineers to +waver. Who could doubt the man, so compromised with Austria? + +The old officer, who led them, did. + +"Thus, then!" he cried, perceiving their defection. "Thus shall I +defend it!" + +Saying this, he whipped his sabre from its sheath; and grasping it hilt +and blade, he broke the weapon across his knee--flinging the fragments +to the earth! + +It was the friend of Roseveldt who did this. + +The example was followed by several others, amidst curses and tears. +Yes; strong men, old soldiers, heroes, on that day, at Vilagos, were +seen to weep. + +The Count was again getting into his stirrup, when a shout, coming from +the outer edge of the encampment, once more caused him to keep still. +All eyes were turned toward the sentry who had shouted, seeking the +explanation. It was given not by the sentinel, but something beyond. + +Far off, men mounted and afoot were seen approaching over the plain. +They came on in scattered groups, in long straggling line, their banners +borne low and trailing. They were the _debris_ of that devoted band, +who had so heroically held Temesvar. Their gallant leader was along +with them, in the rear-guard--still contesting the ground by inches, +against the pursuing cavalry of Rudiger! + +The old soldier had scarce time to regret having broken his sword, when +the van swept into the streets of Vilagos, and soon after the last link +of the retreating line. + +It was the final scene in the struggle for Hungarian independence! + +No; not the last! We chronicle without thought. There was another--one +other to be remembered to all time, and, as long as there be hearts to +feel, with a sad, painful bitterness. + +I am not writing a history of the Hungarian war--that heroic struggle +for national independence--in valour and devotedness perhaps never +equalled upon the earth. Doing so, I should have to detail the tricks +and subterfuges to which the traitor Georgei had to resort before he +could deceive his betrayed followers, and, with safety to himself, +deliver them over to the infamous enemy. I speak only of that dread +morn--the 6th day of October--when _thirteen general officers_, every +one of them the victor in some sternly contested field, were strung up +by the neck, as though they had been pirates or murderers! + +And among them was the brave Damjanich, strung up in spite of his +shattered leg; the silent, serious Perezel; the noble Aulich; and, +perhaps most regretted of all, the brilliant Nagy Sandor! It was in +truth a terrible taking of vengeance--a wholesale hanging of heroes, +such as the world never saw before! What a contrast between this +fiendish outpouring of monarchical spite against revolutionists in a +good cause, and the mercy lately shown by republican conquerors to the +chiefs of a rebellion _without cause at all_! + +Maynard and Roseveldt did not stay to be spectators of this tragical +finale. To the Count there was danger upon Hungarian soil--once more +become Austrian--and with despondent hearts the two revolutionary +leaders turned their faces towards the West, sad to think that their +swords must remain unsheathed, without tasting the blood of either +traitor or tyrant! + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. + +A TOUR IN SEARCH OF A TITLE. + +"I'm sick of England--I am!" + +"Why, cousin, you said the same of America!" + +"No; only of Newport. And if I did, what matter? I wish I were back in +it. Anywhere but here, among these bulls and bull-dogs. Give me New +York over all cities in the world." + +"Oh! I agree with you there--that do I--both State and city, if you +like." + +It was Julia Girdwood that spoke first, and Cornelia Inskip who replied. + +They were seated in a handsome apartment--one of a suite in the +Clarendon Hotel, London. + +"Yes," pursued the first speaker; "there one has at least some society; +if not the _elite_, still sufficiently polished for companionship. Here +there is none--absolutely none--outside the circle of the aristocracy. +Those merchants' wives and daughters we've been compelled to associate +with, rich as they are, and grand as they deem themselves, are to me +simply insufferable. They can think of nothing but their Queen." + +"That's true." + +"And I tell you, Cornelia, if a peeress, or the most obscure thing with +`Lady' tacked to her name, but bows to one of them, it is remembered +throughout their life, and talked of every day among their connections. +Only think of that old banker where mamma took us to dine the other day. +He had one of the Queen's slippers framed in a glass case, and placed +conspicuously upon his drawing-room mantelshelf. And with what gusto +the old snob descanted upon it! How he came to get possession of it; +the price he paid; and his exquisite self-gratulation at being able to +leave it as a valued heirloom to his children--snobbish as himself! +Faugh! 'Tis a flunkeyism intolerable. Among American merchants, one is +at least spared such experience as that. Even our humblest shopkeepers +would scorn so to exhibit themselves!" + +"_True_, true!" assented Cornelia; who remembered her own father, an +humble shopkeeper in Poughkeepsie, and knew that _he_ would have scorned +it. + +"Yes," continued Julia, returning to her original theme, "of all cities +in the world, give me New York. I can say of it, as Byron did of +England, `With all thy faults, I love thee still!' though I suspect when +the great poet penned that much-quoted line, he must have been very +tired of Italy and the stupid Countess Guiccioli." + +"Ha--ha--ha!" laughed the Poughkeepsian cousin, "what a girl you are, +Julia! Well, I'm glad you like our dear native New York." + +"Who wouldn't, with its gay, pleasant people, and their cheerful give +and take? Many faults it has, I admit; bad municipal management-- +wholesale political corruption. These are but spots on the outward skin +of its social life, and will one day be cured. Its great, generous +heart, sprung from Hibernia, is still uncontaminated." + +"Hurrah! hurrah!" cried Cornelia, springing up from her seat and +clapping her little hands. "I'm glad, cousin, to hear you speak thus of +the Irish!" + +It will be remembered that she was the daughter of one. + +"Yes," said Julia, for the third time; "New York, of all places, for me! +I'm now convinced it's the finest city in the world!" + +"Don't be so quick in your conclusions, my love! Wait till you've seen +Paris! Perhaps you may change your mind!" + +It was Mrs Girdwood who made these remarks, entering the room at the +conclusion of her daughter's rhapsody. + +"I'm sure I won't mother. Nor you neither. We'll find Paris just as +we've found London; the same selfishness, the same social distinctions, +the same flunkeyism. I've no doubt all monarchical countries are +alike." + +"What are you talking about, child? France is now a republic." + +"A nice republic, with an Emperor's nephew for its President--or rather +its Dictator! Every day, as the papers tell us, robbing the people of +their rights!" + +"Well, my daughter, with that we've got nothing to do. No doubt these +revolutionary hot-heads need taming down a little, and a Napoleon should +be the man to do it. I'm sure we'll find Paris a very pleasant place. +The old titled families, so far from being swept off by the late +revolution, are once more holding up their heads. 'Tis said the new +ruler encourages them. We can't fail to get acquainted with some of +_them_. It's altogether different from the cold-blooded aristocracy of +England." + +The last remark was made in a tone of bitterness. Mrs Girdwood had +been now several months in London; and though stopping at the Clarendon +Hotel--the caravanserai of aristocratic travellers--she had failed to +get introduction to the titled of the land. + +The American Embassy had been polite to her, both Minister and +Secretary--the latter, noted for his urbanity to all, but especially to +his own countrymen, or countrywomen, without distinction of class. The +Embassy had done all that could be one for an American lady travelling +without introductions. But, however rich and accomplished, however +beautiful the two girls in her train, Mrs Girdwood could not be +presented at Court, her antecedents not being known. + +It is true a point might have been strained in her favour; but the +American ambassador of that day was as true a toad-eater to England's +aristocracy as could have been found in England itself, and equally +fearful of becoming compromised by his introductions. We need not give +his name. The reader skilful in diplomatic records can no doubt guess +it. + +Under these circumstances, the ambitious widow had to submit to a +disappointment. + +She found little difficulty in obtaining introductions to England's +commonalty. Her riches secured this. But the gentry! these were even +less accessible than the exclusives of Newport--the J.'s, and the L.'s, +and the B.'s. Titled or untitled, they were all the same. She +discovered that a simple country squire was as unapproachable as a peer +of the realm--earl, marquis, or duke! + +"Never mind, my girls!" was her consolatory speech, to daughter and +niece, when the scales first fell from her eyes. "His lordship will +soon be here, and then it will be all right." + +His lordship meant Mr Swinton, who had promised to follow them in the +"next steamaw." + +But the next steamer came with no such name as Swinton on its passenger +list, nor any one bearing the title of "lord." + +And the next, and the next, and some half-dozen others, and still no +Swinton, either reported by the papers, or calling at the Clarendon +Hotel! + +Could an accident have happened to the nobleman, travelling _incognito_? +Or, what caused more chagrin to Mrs Girdwood to conjecture, had he +forgotten his promise? + +In either case he ought to have written. A gentleman would have done +so--unless dead. + +But no such death had been chronicled in the newspapers. It could not +have escaped the notice of the retail storekeeper's widow, who each day +read the London _Times_, and with care its list of arrivals. + +She became at length convinced, that the accomplished nobleman +accidentally picked up in Newport, and afterwards entertained by her in +her Fifth Avenue house in New York, was either no nobleman at all, or if +one, had returned to his own country under another travelling name, and +was there fighting shy of her acquaintance. + +It was but poor comfort that many of her countrymen--travellers like +themselves--every day called upon them; among others Messrs. Lucas and +Spiller--such was the cognomen of Mr Lucas's friend, who, also on a +tour of travel, had lately arrived in England. + +But neither of them had brought any intelligence, such as Mrs Girdwood +sought. Neither knew anything of the whereabouts of Mr Swinton. + +They had not seen him since the occasion of that dinner in the Fifth +Avenue house; nor had they heard of him again. + +It was pretty clear then he had come to England, and was "cutting" +them--that is, Mrs Girdwood and her girls. + +This was the mother's reflection. + +The thought was enough to drive her out of the country; and out of it +she determined to go, partly in search of that title for her daughter +she had come to Europe to obtain; and partly to complete, what some of +her countrymen are pleased to call, the "Ewropean tower." + +To this the daughter was indifferent, while the niece of coarse made no +objection. + +They proceeded upon their travels. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. + +THE LOST LORD. + +Ten days after Mrs Girdwood had taken her departure from the Clarendon +Hotel, a gentleman presented himself to the door-porter of that select +hostelry, and put the following inquiry: + +"Is there a family stopping here, by name Girdwood--a middle-aged lady, +with two younger--her daughter and niece; a negro woman for their +servant?" + +"There _was_ such a fambly--about two weeks ago. They've _paid their +bill_, and gone away." + +The janitor laid emphasis on the paying of the bill. It was _his_ best +evidence of the respectability of the departed guests. + +"Do you know where they've gone?" + +"Haven't an idea, sir. They left no address. They 'pear to be +Yankees--'Mericans, I mean," said the man, correcting himself, in fear +of giving offence. "Very respectable people--ladies, indeed--'specially +the young 'uns. I dare say they've gone back to the States. That's +what I've heerd them call their country." + +"To the States! Surely not?" said the stranger, half questioning +himself. "How long since they left the hotel?" + +"About a fortnight ago--there or thereabout. I can look at the book and +tell you?" + +"Pray do!" + +The Cerberus of the Clarendon--to an humble applicant for admission into +that aristocratic establishment not much milder than he of the seven +heads--turned into his box, and commenced examining the register of +departures. + +He was influenced to this civility by the aspect of the individual who +made the request. To all appearance a "reg'lar gentleman," was the +reflection he had indulged in. + +"Departures on the 25th," spoke he, reading from the register: "Lord S-- +and Lady S--; the Hon. Augustus Stanton; the Duchess of P--; Mrs +Girdwood and fambly--that's them. They left on the 25th, sir." + +"The 25th. At what hour?" + +"Well, that I can't remember. You see, there's so many goin' and +comin'. From their name being high up on the list, I d'say they went by +a mornin' train." + +"You're sure they left no note for any one?" + +"I can ask inside. What name?" + +"Swinton--Mr Richard Swinton." + +"Seems to me they inquired for that name, several times. Yes, the old +lady did--the mother of the young ladies, I mean. I'll see if there's a +note." + +The man slippered off towards the office, in the interior of the hotel; +leaving Mr Swinton, for it was he, upon the door-mat. + +The countenance of the ex-guardsman, that had turned suddenly blank, +again brightened up. It was at least gratifying to know that he had +been inquired for. It was to be hoped there was a note, that would put +him on their trace of travel. + +"No, not any," was the chilling response that came out from the official +oracle. "None whatever." + +"You say they made inquiries for a Mr Swinton. Was it from yourself, +may I ask?" The question was put seductively, accompanied by the +holding out of a cigar-case. + +"Thank you, sir," said the flattered official, accepting the offered +weed. "The inquiries were sent down to me from their rooms. It was to +ask if a Mr Swinton had called, or left any card. They also asked +about a lord. They didn't give his name. There wasn't any lord-- +leastwise not for them." + +"Were there any gentlemen in the habit of visiting them? You'll find +that cigar a good one--I've just brought them across the Atlantic. Take +another? Such weeds are rather scarce here in London." + +"You're very kind, sir. Thank you!" and the official helped himself to +a second. + +"Oh, yes; there were several gentlemen used to come to see them. I +don't think any of them were lords, though. They might be. The ladies +'peared to be very respectable people. I d'say highly respectable." + +"Do you know the address of any of these gentlemen? I ask the question +because the ladies are relatives of mine, and I might perhaps find out +from some of them where they are gone." + +"They were all strangers to me; and to the hotel. I've been at this +door for ten years, and never saw one of them before." + +"Can you recollect how any of them looked?" + +"Yes; there was one who came often, and used to go out with the ladies. +A thick-set gent with lightish hair, and round full face. Sometimes +there was a thin-faced man along with him, a younger gent. They used to +take the two young ladies a-ridin'--to Rotten Row; and I think to the +Opera." + +"Did you learn their names?" + +"No, sir. They used to go and come without giving a card; only the +first time, and I didn't notice what name was on it. They would ask if +Mrs Girdwood was in, and then go upstairs to the suite of rooms +occupied by the fambly. They 'peared to be intimate friends." + +Swinton saw he had got all the information the man was capable of +imparting. He turned to go out, the hall-keeper obsequiously holding +the door. + +Another question occurred to him. + +"Did Mrs Girdwood say anything about coming back here--to the hotel I +mean?" + +"I don't know, sir. If you stop a minute I'll ask." + +Another journey to the oracle inside; another negative response. + +"This is cursed luck!" hissed Swinton through his teeth, as he descended +the hotel steps and stood upon the flags below. "Cursed luck!" he +repeated, as with despondent look and slow, irresolute tread he turned +up the street of "our best shopkeepers." + +"Lucas with them to a certainty, and that other squirt! I might have +known it, from their leaving New York without telling me where they were +going. They must have followed by the very next steamer; and, hang me, +if I don't begin to think that that visit to the gambling-house was a +trap--a preconceived plan to deprive me of the chance of getting over +after her. By the living G--it has succeeded! Here I am, after months +spent in struggling to make up the paltry passage money! And here they +are not; and God knows where they are! Curse upon the crooked luck!" + +Mr Swinton's reflections will explain why he had not sooner reported +himself at the Bond Street hotel, and show the mistake Mrs Girdwood had +made, in supposing he had "cut" them. + +The thousand dollars deposited in the New York _faro_ bank was all the +money he had in the world; and after taking stock of what might be +raised upon his wife's jewellery, most of which was already under the +collateral mortgage of the three golden globes, it was found it would +only pay ocean passage for one. + +As Fan was determined not to be left behind--Broadway having proved less +congenial than Regent Street--the two had to stay in America, till the +price of two cabin tickets could be obtained. + +With all Mr Swinton's talent in the "manipulation of pasteboard," it +cost him months to obtain them. + +His friend Lucas gone away, he found no more pigeons in America--only +hawks! + +The land of liberty was not the land for him. Its bird of freedom, type +of the falcon tribe, seemed too truly emblematic of its people-- +certainly of those with whom he had come in contact--and as soon as he +could get together enough to pay for a pair of Cunard tickets-- +second-class at that--he took departure for a clime more congenial, both +to himself and his beloved. + +They had arrived in London with little more than the clothes they stood +in; and taken lodgings in that cheap, semi-genteel neighbourhood where +almost every street, square, park, place, and terrace, has got +Westbourne for its name. + +Toward this quarter Mr Swinton turned his face, after reaching the head +of Bond Street; and taking a twopenny "bus," he was soon after set down +at the Royal Oak, at no great distance from his suburban domicile. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +"They're gone!" he exclaimed, stepping inside the late taken apartments, +and addressing himself to a beautiful woman, their sole occupant. + +It was "Fan," in a silk gown, somewhat chafed and stained, but once more +a woman's dress! Fan, with her splendid hair almost grown again--Fan no +longer disguised as a valet, but restored to the dignity of a wife! + +"Gone! From London, do you mean? Or only the hotel?" The question +told of her being still in her husband's confidence. "From both." + +"But you know where, don't you?" + +"I don't." + +"Do you think they've left England?" + +"I don't know what to think. They've left the Clarendon on the 25th of +last month--ten days ago. And who do you suppose has been there--back +and forward to see them?" + +"I don't know." + +"Guess!" + +"I can't." + +She could have given a guess. She had a thought, but she kept it in her +own heart, as about the same man she had kept other thoughts before. +Had she spoken it, she would have said, "Maynard." + +She said nothing, leaving her husband to explain. He did so, at once +undeceiving her. + +"Well, it was Lucas. That thick-skulled brute we met in Newport, and +afterwards in New York." + +"Ay; better you had never seen him in either place. He proved a useless +companion, Dick." + +"I know all that. Perhaps I shall get square with him yet." + +"So they've gone; and that, I suppose, will be the end of it. Well, let +it be; I don't care. I'm contented enough to be once more in dear old +England!" + +"In cheap lodgings like this?" + +"In anything. A hovel here is preferable to a palace in America! I'd +rather live in a London garret, in these mean lodgings, if you like, +than be mistress of that Fifth Avenue house you were so delighted to +dine in. I hate their republican country?" + +The sentiment was appropriate to the woman who uttered it. + +"I'll be the owner of it yet," said Swinton, referring not to the +country, but the Fifth Avenue house. "I'll own it, if I have to spend +ten years in carrying out the speculation." + +"You still intend going on with it then?" + +"Of course I do. Why should I give it up?" + +"Perhaps you've lost the chance. This Mr Lucas may have got into the +lady's good graces?" + +"Bah! I've nothing to fear from him--the common-looking brute! He's +after her, no doubt. What of that? I take it he's not the style to +make much way with Miss Julia Girdwood. Besides, I've reason to know +the mother won't have it. If I've lost the chance in any other way, I +may thank you for it, madam." + +"Me! And how, I should like to know?" + +"But for you I might have been here months ago; in good time to have +taken steps against their departure; or, still better, found some excuse +for going along with them. That's what I could have done. It's the +time we have lost--in getting together the cash to buy tickets for two." + +"Indeed! And I'm answerable for that, I suppose? I think I made up my +share. You seem to forget the selling of my gold watch, my rings and +bracelets--even to my poor pencil-case?" + +"Who gave them to you?" + +"Indeed! it's like you to remember it! I wish I had never accepted +them." + +"And I that I had never given them." + +"Wretch!" + +"Oh! you're very good at calling names--ugly ones, too." + +"I'll call you an uglier still, _coward_!" + +This stung him. Perhaps the only epithet that would; for he not only +felt that it was true, but that his wife knew it. + +"What do you mean?" he asked, turning suddenly red. + +"What I say; that you're a coward--you know you are. You can safely +insult a woman; but when a man stands up you daren't--no, you daren't +say boo to a goose. Remember Maynard?" + +It was the first time the taunt had been openly pronounced; though on +more than one occasion since the scenes in Newport, she had thrown out +hints of a knowledge of that scheme by which he had avoided meeting the +man named. He supposed she had only suspicions, and could know nothing +of that letter delivered too late. He had taken great pains to conceal +the circumstances. From what she now said, it was evident she knew all. + +And she did; for James, the waiter, and other servants, had imparted to +her the gossip of the hotel; and this, joined to her own observation of +what had transpired, gave the whole story. The suspicion that she knew +it had troubled Swinton--the certainty maddened him. + +"Say that again!" he cried, springing to his feet; "say it again, and by +G--, I'll smash in your skull?" + +With the threat he had raised one of the cane chairs, and held it over +her head. + +Throughout their oft-repeated quarrels, it had never before come to +this--the crisis of a threatened blow. + +She was neither large nor strong--only beautiful--while the bully was +both. But she did not believe he intended to strike; and she felt that +to quail would be to acknowledge herself conquered. Even to fail +replying to the defiance. + +She did so, with additional acerbity. + +"Say what again? Remember Maynard? I needn't say it; you're not likely +to forget him!" + +The words had scarce passed from her lips before she regretted them. At +least she had reason: for with a crash, the chair came down upon her +head, and she was struck prostrate upon the floor! + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY. + +INSIDE THE TUILERIES. + +There is a day in the annals of Paris, that to the limits of all time +will be remembered with shame, sorrow, and indignation. + +And not only by the people of Paris, but of France--who on that day +ceased to be free. + +To the Parisians, more especially, was it a day of lamentation; and its +anniversary can never pass over the French capital without tears in +every house, and trembling in every heart. + +It was the _Second of December_, 1851. + +On the morning of that day five men were met within a chamber of the +Tuileries. It was the same chamber in which we have described a +conspiracy as having been hatched some months before. + +The present meeting was for a similar purpose; but, notwithstanding a +coincidence in the number of the conspirators, only one of them was the +same. This was the president of the former conclave--the President of +France! + +And there was another coincidence equally strange--in their titles; for +there was a count, a field-marshal, a diplomatist, and a duke, the only +difference being that they were now all of one nation--all Frenchmen. + +They were the Count de M., the Marshal Saint A., the Diplomatist La G., +and the Duke of C. + +Although, as said, their purpose was very similar, there was a great +difference in the men and their mode of discussing it. The former five +have been assimilated to a gang of burglars who had settled the +preliminaries for "cracking a crib." Better might this description +apply to the conspirators now in session; and at a still later period, +when the housebreakers are about entering on the "job." + +Those had conspired with a more comprehensive design--the destruction of +Liberty throughout all Europe. These were assembled with similar aim, +though it was confined to the liberties of France. + +In the former case, the development seemed distant, and would be brought +about by brave soldiers fighting on the battle-field. In the latter the +action was near, and was entrusted to cowardly assassins in the streets, +already prepared for the purpose. + +The mode by which this had been done will be made manifest, by giving an +account of the scenes that were passing in the chambers occupied by the +conspirators. + +There was no _persiflage_ of speech, or exchange of light drolleries, as +in that conclave enlivened by the conversation of the English viscount. +The time was too serious for joking; the occasion for the contemplated +murder too near. + +Nor was there the same tranquillity in the chamber. Men came and went; +officers armed and in full uniform. Generals, colonels, and captains +were admitted into the room, as if by some sign of freemasonry, but only +to make reports or receive orders, and then out again. + +And he who gave these orders was not the President of France, +commander-in-chief of its armies, but another man of the five in that +room, and for the time greater than he! + +It was the Count de M. + +But for him, perhaps, that conspiracy might never have been carried to a +success, and France might still have been free! + +It was a strange, terrible crisis, and the "man of a mission," standing +back to the fire, with split coat tails, was partially appalled by it. +Despite repeated drinks, and the constant smoking of a cigar, he could +not conceal the tremor that was upon him. + +De M--saw it, and so did the murderer of Algerine Arabs, once +strolling-player, now field-marshal of France. + +"Come!" cried the sinful but courageous Count, "there must be no half +measures--no weak backslidings! We've resolved upon this thing, and we +must go through with it! Which of you is afraid?" + +"Not I," answered Saint A. + +"Nor I," said La G--, _ci-devant_ billiard-sharper of Leicester Square, +London. + +"I'm not afraid," said the Duke. "But do you think it is right?" + +His grace was the only man of the five who had a spark of humanity in +his heart. A poor weak man, he was only allied with the others in the +intimacy of a fast friendship. + +"Right?" echoed La G--. "What's wrong in it? Would it be right to let +this _canaille_ of demagogues rule Paris--France? That's what it'll +come to if we don't act. Now, or never, say I!" + +"And I!" + +"And all of us?" + +"We must do more than say," said De M--, glancing toward the tamer of +the Boulogne eagle, who still stood against the fire-place, looking +scared and irresolute. "_We must swear it_!" + +"Come, Louis!" he continued, familiarly addressing himself to the +Prince-President. "We're all in the same boat here. It's a case of +life or death, and we must stand true to one another. I propose that we +_swear_ it!" + +"I have no objection," said the nephew of Napoleon, led on by a man whom +his great uncle would have commanded. "I'll make any oath you like." + +"Enough!" cried De M--, taking a brace of duelling pistols from the +mantelshelf and placing them crosswise on the table, one on top of the +other. "There, gentlemen! There's the true Christian symbol, and over +it let us make oath, that in this day's work we live or die together?" + +"We swear it on the Cross!" + +"On the Cross, and by the Virgin!" + +"On the Cross, and by the Virgin!" + +The oath had scarce died on their lips when the door was once more +opened, introducing one of those uniformed couriers who were constantly +coming and going. + +They were all officers of high rank, and all men with fearless but +sinister faces. + +"Well, Colonel Gardotte!" asked De M--, without waiting for the +President to speak; "how are things going on in the Boulevard de +Bastille?" + +"Charmingly," replied the Colonel. "Another round of champagne, and my +fellows will be in the right spirit--ready for anything!" + +"Give it them! Twice if it be needed. Here's the equivalent for the +keepers of the cabarets. If there's not enough, take their trash on a +promise to pay. Say that it's on account of--Ha! Lorrillard!" + +Colonel Gardotte, in brilliant Zouave uniform, was forgotten, or at all +events set aside, for a big, bearded man in dirty blouse, at that moment +admitted into the room. + +"What is it, _mon brave_?" + +"I come to know at what hour we are to commence firing from the +barricade? It's built now, and we're waiting for the signal?" + +Lorrillard spoke half aside, and in a hoarse, hurried whisper. + +"Be patient, good Lorrillard?" was the reply. "Give your fellows +another glass, and wait till you hear a cannon fired in front of the +Madeleine. Take care you don't get so drunk as to be incapable of +hearing it. Also, take care you don't shoot any of the soldiers who are +to attack you, or let them shoot you!" + +"I'll take special care about the last, your countship. A cannon, you +say, will be fired by the Madeleine?" + +"Yes; discharged twice to make sure--but _you_ needn't wait for the +second report. At the first, blaze away with your blank cartridges, and +don't hurt our dear Zouaves. Here's something for yourself, Lorrillard! +Only an earnest of what you may expect when this little skirmish is +over." + +The sham-barricader accepted the gold coins passed into his palm; and +with a salute such as might have been given by the boatswain of a +buccaneer, he slouched back through the half-opened doorway, and +disappeared. + +Other couriers continued to come and go, most in military costumes, +delivering their divers reports--some of them in open speech, others in +mysterious undertone--not a few of them under the influence of drink! + +On that day the army of Paris was in a state of intoxication--ready not +alone for the suppression of a riot they had been told to prepare for; +but for anything--even to the slaughter of the whole Parisian people! + +At 3 p.m. they were quite prepared for this. The champagne and sausages +were all consumed. They were again hungry and thirsty, but it was the +hunger of the hell-hound, and the thirst of the bloodhound. + +"The time has come!" said De M--to his fellow-conspirators. "We may now +release them from their leash! Let the gun be fired?" + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY ONE. + +IN THE HOTEL DE LOUVRE. + +"Come, girls! It's time for you to be dressing. The gentlemen are due +in half an hour." + +The speech was made in a handsome apartment of the Hotel de Louvre, and +addressed to two young ladies, in elegant _dishabille_, one of them +seated in an easy chair, the other lying full length upon a sofa. + +A negress, with chequered _toque_, was standing near the door, summoned +in to assist the young ladies in their toilet. + +The reader may recognise Mrs Girdwood, daughter, niece, and servant. + +It is months since we have met them. They have _done_ the European tour +up the Rhine, over the Alps, into Italy. They are returning by way of +Paris, into which capital they have but lately entered; and are still +engaged in its exploration. + +"See Paris last," was the advice given them by a Parisian gentleman, +whose acquaintance they had made; and when Mrs Girdwood, who smattered +a little French, asked, _Pourquoi_? she was told that by seeing it first +she would care for nothing beyond. + +She had taken the Frenchman's hint, and was now completing the +programme. + +Though she had met German barons and Italian counts by the score, her +girls were still unengaged. Nothing suitable had offered itself in the +shape of a title. It remained to be seen what Paris would produce. + +The gentlemen "due in half an hour" were old acquaintances; two of them +her countrymen, who, making the same tour, had turned up repeatedly on +the route, sometimes travelling in her company. They were Messrs. Lucas +and Spiller. + +She thought nothing of these. But there was a third expected, and +looked for with more interest; one who had only called upon them the day +before, and whom they had not seen since the occasion of his having +dined with them in their Fifth Avenue house in New York. + +It was the lost lord. + +On his visit of yesterday everything had been explained; how he had been +detained in the States on diplomatic business; how he had arrived in +London after their departure for the Continent, with apologies for not +writing to them--ignorant of their whereabouts. + +On Mr Swinton's part this last was a lie, as well as the first. In the +chronicles of the time he had full knowledge of where they might have +been found. He had studiously consulted the American newspaper +published in London, which registered the arrivals and departures of +transatlantic tourists, and knew to an hour when Mrs Girdwood and her +girls left Cologne, crossed the Alps, stood upon the Bridge of Sighs, or +climbed to the burning crater of Vesuvius. + +And he had sighed and burned to be along with them, but could not. +There was something needed for the accomplishment of his wishes--cash. + +It was only when he saw recorded the Girdwood arrival in Paris, that he +was at length enabled to scrape together sufficient for the expenses of +a passage to, and short sojourn in, the French capital; and this only +after a propitious adventure in which he had been assisted by the smiles +of the goddess Fortune, and the beauty of his beloved Fan. Fan had been +left behind in the London lodging. And by her own consent. She was +satisfied to stay, even with the slender stipend her husband could +afford to leave for her maintenance. In London the pretty horse-breaker +would be at home. + +"You have only half an hour, my dears!" counselled Mrs Girdwood, to +stimulate the girls towards getting ready. + +Cornelia, who occupied the chair, rose to her feet, laying aside the +crochet on which she had been engaged, and going off to be dressed by +Keziah. + +Julia, on the sofa, simply yawned. + +Only at a third admonition from her mother, she flung the French novel +she had been reading upon the floor, and sat up. + +"Bother the gentlemen?" she exclaimed, repeating the yawn with arms +upraised. "I wish, ma, you hadn't asked them to come. I'd rather have +stayed in all day, and finished that beautiful story I've got into. +Heaven bless that dear Georges Sand! Woman that she is, she should have +been a man. She knows them as if she were one; their pretensions and +treachery. Oh, mother! when you were determined on having a child, why +did you make it a daughter? I'd give the world to have been your son!" + +"Fie, fie, Jule! Don't let any one hear you talk in that silly way!" + +"I don't care whether they do or not. I don't care if all Paris, all +France, all the world knows it. I want to be a man, and to have a man's +power." + +"Pff, child! A man's power! There's no such thing in existence, only +in outward show. It has never been exerted, without a woman's will at +the back of it. That is the source of all power." + +The storekeeper's relict was reasoning from experience. She knew whose +will had made her the mistress of a house in the Fifth Avenue; and given +her scores, hundreds, of other advantages, she had never credited to the +sagacity of her husband. + +"To be a woman," she continued, "one who knows man and how to manage +him, that is enough for me. Ah! Jule, if I'd only had your +opportunities, I might this day have been anything." + +"Opportunities! What are they?" + +"Your beauty for one." + +"Oh, ma! you had that. You still show it." + +To Mrs Girdwood the reply was not unpleasant. She had not lost conceit +in that personal appearance that had subdued the heart of the rich +retailer; and, but for a disinheriting clause in his will, might have +thought of submitting her charms to a second market. But although this +restrained her from speculating on matrimony, she was still good for +flattery and flirtation. + +"Well," she said, "if I had good looks, what mattered they without +money? You have both, my child." + +"And both don't appear to help me to a husband--such as you want me to +have, mamma." + +"It will be your own fault if they don't. His lordship would never have +renewed his acquaintance with us if he didn't mean something. From what +he hinted to me yesterday, I'm sure he has come to Paris on our account. +He almost said as much. It is you, Julia, it is you." + +Julia came very near expressing a wish that his lordship was at the +bottom of the sea; but knowing how it would annoy her mother, she kept +the sentiment to herself. She had just time to get enrobed for the +street; as the gentleman was announced. He was still plain Mr Swinton, +still travelling _incognito_, on "seqwet diplomatic business for the +Bwitish Government." So had he stated in confidence to Mrs Girdwood. + +Shortly after, Messrs. Lucas and Spiller made their appearance, and the +party was complete. + +It was only to be a promenade on the Boulevards, to end in a little +dinner in the Cafe Riche, Royale, or the Maison Dore. + +And with this simple programme, the six sallied forth from the Hotel de +Louvre. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY TWO. + +ON THE BOULEVARDS. + +On the afternoon of that same Second of December, a man, sauntering +along the Boulevards, said to himself: + +"There's trouble hanging over this gay city of Paris. I can smell +mischief in its atmosphere." + +The man who made this remark was Captain Maynard. He was walking out +alone, having arrived in Paris only the day before. + +His presence in the French metropolis may be explained by stating, that +he had read in an English newspaper a paragraph announcing the arrival +of Sir George Vernon at Paris. The paragraph further said, that Sir +George had returned thither after visiting the various courts of Europe +on some secret and confidential mission to the different British +ambassadors. + +Something of this Maynard knew already. He had not slighted the +invitation given him by the English baronet on the landing-wharf at +Liverpool. Returning from his Hungarian expedition, he had gone down to +Sevenoaks, Kent. Too late, and again to suffer disappointment. Sir +George had just started for a tour of travel on the Continent, taking +his daughter along with him. He might be gone for a year, or maybe +more. This was all his steward could or _would_ tell. + +Not much more of the missing baronet could Maynard learn in London. +Only the _on dit_ in political circles that he had been entrusted with +some sort of secret circular mission to the European courts, or those of +them known as the Great Powers. + +Its secrecy must have been deemed important for Sir George to travel +_incognito_. And so must he have travelled; else Maynard, diligently +consulting the chronicles of the times, should have discovered his +whereabouts. + +This he had daily done, making inquiries elsewhere, and without success; +until, months after, his eye fell upon the paragraph in question. + +Had he still faith in that presentiment, several times so confidently +expressed? + +If so, it did not hinder him from passing over to Paris, and taking +steps to help in the desired destiny. + +Certain it was still desired. The anxiety he had shown to get upon the +track of Sir George's travel, the haste made on discovering it, and the +diligence he was now showing to find the English baronet's address in +the French capital, were proofs that he was not altogether a fatalist. + +During the twenty-four hours since his arrival in Paris, he had made +inquiries at every hotel where such a guest was likely to make stay. +But no Sir George Vernon--no English baronet could be found. + +He had at length determined to try at the English Embassy. But that was +left for the next day; and, like all strangers, he went out to take a +stroll along the Boulevards. + +He had reached that of Montmartre as the thought, chronicled above, +occurred to him. + +It could scarce have been suggested by anything he there saw. Passing +and meeting him were the Parisian people--citizens of a free republic, +with a president of their own choice. The bluff _bourgeois_, with _sa +femme_ linked on his left arm, and _sa fille_, perhaps a pretty child, +hand-led, on his right. Behind him it might be a brace of gaily-dressed +grisettes, close followed by a couple of the young _dores_, exchanging +stealthy glance or bold repartee. + +Here and there a party of students, released from the studies of the +day, a group of promenaders of both sexes, ladies and gentlemen, who had +sallied out to enjoy the fine weather, and the walk upon the broad, +smooth _banquette_ of the Boulevard, all chatting in tranquil strain, +unsuspicious of danger, as if they had been sauntering along a rural +road, or the strand of some quiet watering-place. + +A sky over them serene as that which may have canopied the garden of +Eden; an atmosphere around so mild that the doors of the cafes had been +thrown open, and inside could be seen the true Parisian _flaneur_-- +artists or authors--seated by the marble-topped table, sipping his _eau +sucre_, slipping the spare sugar lumps into his pocket for home use in +his six francs-a-week garret, and dividing his admiration between the +patent-leather shoes on his feet and the silken-dressed damsels who +passed and repassed along the flagged pavement in front. + +It was not from observation of these Parisian peculiarities that Maynard +had been led to make the remark we have recorded, but from a scene to +which he had been witness on the preceding night. + +Straying through the Palais Royal, then called "National," he had +entered the Cafe de Mille Colonnes, the noted resort of the Algerine +officers. With the recklessness of one who seeks adventure for its own +sake, and who has been accustomed to having it without stint, he soon +found himself amidst men unaccustomed to introductions. Paying freely +for their drinks--to which, truth compels me to say, as far as in their +purses they corresponded--he was soon clinking cups with them, and +listening to their sentiments. He could not help remarking the +recurrence of that toast which has since brought humiliation to France. + +"_Vive l'Empereur_!" + +At least a dozen times was it drunk during the evening--each time with +an enthusiasm that sounded ominous in the ears of the republican +soldier. There was a unanimity, too, that rendered it the more +impressive. He knew that the French President was aiming at Empire; but +up to that hour he could not believe in the possibility of his achieving +it. + +As he drank with the Chasseurs d'Afrique in the Cafe de Mille Colonnes, +he saw it was not only possible but proximate; and that ere long Louis +Napoleon would either wrap his shoulders in the Imperial purple or in a +shroud. + +The thought stung him to the quick. Even in that company he could not +conceal his chagrin. He gave expression to it in a phrase, half in +soliloquy, half meant for the ear of a man who appeared the most +moderate among the enthusiasts around him. + +"_Pauvre France_!" was the reflection. + +"_Pauvre France_!" cried a fierce-looking but diminutive sous-lieutenant +of Zouaves, catching up the phrase, and turning toward the man who had +given utterance to it. + +"_Pauvre France! Pourquoi, monsieur_?" + +"I pity France," said Maynard, "if you intend making an Empire of it." + +"What's that to you?" angrily rejoined the Zouave lieutenant, whose +beard and moustache, meeting over his mouth, gave a hissing utterance to +his speech. "What does it concern you, monsieur?" + +"Not so fast, Virocq!" interposed the officer to whom Maynard had more +particularly addressed himself. "This gentleman is a soldier like +ourselves. But he is an American, and of coarse believes in the +republic. We have all our political inclinings. That's no reason why +we should not be friends socially--as we are here!" + +Virocq, after making a survey of Maynard, who did not quail before his +scrutiny, seemed contented with the explanation. At all events, he +satisfied his wounded patriotism by once more turning to the clique of +his comrades, tossing his glass on high, and once more vociferating +"_Vive l'Empereur_!" + +It was the remembrance of this scene of last night that led Maynard to +reflect, when passing along the Boulevard, there was mischief in the +atmosphere of Paris. + +He became more convinced of it as he walked on toward the Boulevard de +Bastille. There the stream of promenaders showed groups of a different +aspect: for he had gone beyond the point where the genteel bourgeoisie +takes its turn; where patent-leather boots and _eau sucre_ give place to +a coarser _chassure_ and stronger beverage. Blouses were intermingled +with the throng; while the _casernes_ on both sides of the street were +filled with soldiers, drinking without stint, and what seemed stranger +still, with their officers along with them! + +With all his republican experience--even in the campaign of Mexico even +under the exigencies of the relaxed discipline brought about by the +proximity of death upon the battle-field, the revolutionary leader could +not help astonishment at this. He was still more surprised to see the +French people along the street--even the blouses submitting to repeated +insults put upon them by those things in uniform; the former stout, +stalwart fellows; the latter, most of them, diminutive ruffians, despite +their big breeches and swaggering gait, looking more like monkeys than +men. + +From such a scene, back toward Montmartre he turned with disgust. + +While retracing his steps, he reflected: + +"If the French people allow themselves to be bullied by such _bavards_ +as these, it's no business of mine. They don't deserve to be free." + +He was on the Boulevard des Italiens as he made this reflection, heading +on for the widening way of the Rue de la Paix. He had already noticed a +change in the aspect of the promenaders. + +Troops were passing along the pavement; and taking station at the +corners of the streets. Detachments occupied the _casernes_ and +_cafes_, not in serious, soldier-like sobriety, but calling imperiously +for refreshments, and drinking without thought or pretence of payment. +The bar-keeper refusing them was threatened with a blow, or the thrust +of a sabre! + +The promenaders on the pave were rudely accosted. Some of them pushed +aside by half-intoxicated squads, that passed them on the double-quick, +as if bent on some exigent duty. + +Seeing this, some parties had taken to the side streets to regain their +houses. Others, supposing it only a soldierly freak--the return from a +Presidential review--were disposed to take it in good part; and thinking +the thing would soon be over, still stayed upon the Boulevard. + +Maynard was among those who remained. + +Interrupted by the passing of a company of Zouaves, he had taken stand +upon the steps of a house, near the _embouchure_ of the Rue de Vivienne. +With a soldier's eye he was scrutinising these military vagabonds, +supposed to be of Arab race, but whom he knew to be the scourings of the +Parisian streets, disguised under the turbans of the Mohammed. He did +not think in after years such types of military would be imitated in the +land he had left behind, with such pride in its chivalry. + +He saw that they were already half-intoxicated, staggering after their +leader in careless file, little regarding the commands called back to +them. Out of the ranks they were dropping off in twos and threes, +entering the _cafes_, or accosting whatever citizen chanced to challenge +their attention. + +In the doorway where Maynard had drawn up, a young girl had also taken +refuge. She was a pretty creature and somewhat elegantly dressed; +withal of modest appearance. She may have been "grisette" or "cocotte." +It mattered not to Maynard, who had not been regarding her. + +But her fair proportions had caught the eye of one of the passing +Zouaves; who, parting from the ranks of his comrades, rushed up the +steps and insisted upon kissing her! + +The girl appealed to Maynard, who, without giving an instant to +reflection, seized the Zouave by the collar, and with a kick sent him +staggering from the steps. + +A shout of "_Secours_!" traversed along the line, and the whole troop +halted, as if surprised by a sudden assault of Arabs. The officer +leading them came running back, and stood confronting the stranger. + +"_Sacre_!" he cried. "It's you, monsieur! you who go against the +Empire!" + +Maynard recognised the ruffian, who on the night before had disputed +with him in the Cafe de Mille Colonnes. + +"_Bon_!" cried Virocq, before Maynard could make either protest or +reply. "Lay hold upon him, comrades! Take him back to the guard-house +in the Champs Elysees. You'll repent your interference, monsieur, in a +country that calls for the Empire and order. _Vive l'Empereur_!" + +Half a dozen crimson-breeched ruffians springing from the ranks threw +themselves around Maynard, and commenced dragging him along the +Boulevard. + +It required this number to conquer and carry him away. + +At the corner of the Rue de la Paix a strange tableau was presented to +his eyes. Three ladies, accompanied by three gentlemen, were spectators +of his humiliation. Promenading upon the pavement, they had drawn up on +one side to give passage to the soldiers who had him in charge. + +Notwithstanding the haste in which he was carried past them, he saw who +they were: Mrs Girdwood and her girls--Richard Swinton, Louis Lucas, +and his acolyte, attending upon them! + +There was no time to think of them, or why they were there. Dragged +along by the Zouaves, occasionally cursed and cuffed by them, absorbed +in his own wild rage, Maynard only occupied himself with thoughts of +vengeance. It was to him an hour of agony--the agony of an impotent +anger! + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY THREE. + +A NATION'S MURDER. + +"By Jawve!" exclaimed Swinton. "It's that fellaw, Maynard. You +remember him, ladies? The fellaw who, at Newpawt, wan away after +gwosely insulting me, without giving me the oppawtunity of obtaining the +satisfaction of a gentleman?" + +"Come, come, Mr Swinton," said Lucas, interposing. "I don't wish to +contradict you; but you'll excuse me for saying that he didn't exactly +run away. I think I ought to know." + +The animus of Lucas's speech is easily explained. He had grown rather +hostile to Swinton. And no wonder. After pursuing the Fifth Avenue +heiress all through the Continental tour, and as he supposed with fair +prospect of success, he was once more in danger of being outdone by his +English rival, freshly returned to the field. + +"My deaw Mr Lucas," responded Swinton, "that's all vewy twue. The +fellaw, as you say, wote me a lettaw, which did not weach me in proper +time. But that was no weason why he should have stolen away and left no +addwess faw me to find him." + +"He didn't steal away," quietly rejoined Lucas. + +"Well," said Swinton, "I won't argue the question. Not with you, my +deaw fwend, at all events--" + +"What can it mean?" interposed Mrs Girdwood, noticing the ill feeling +between the suitors of Julia, and with the design of turning it off. +"Why have they arrested him? Can any one tell?" + +"Pawhaps he has committed some kwime?" suggested Swinton. + +"That's not likely, sir," sharply asserted Cornelia. + +"Aw--aw. Well, Miss Inskip, I may be wong in calling it kwime. It's a +question of fwaseology; but I've been told that this Mr Maynard is one +of those wed wepublicans who would destwoy society, weligion, in shawt, +evewything. No doubt, he has been meddling heaw in Fwance, and that's +the cause of his being a pwisoner. At least I suppose so." + +Julia had as yet said nothing. She was gazing after the arrested man, +who had ceased struggling against his captors, and was being hurried off +out of sight. + +In the mind of the proud girl there was a thought Maynard might have +felt proud of inspiring. In that moment of his humiliation he knew not +that the most beautiful woman on the Boulevard had him in her heart with +a deep interest, and a sympathy for his misfortune--whatever it might +be. "Can nothing be done, mamma?" + +"For what, Julia?" + +"For him," and she pointed after Maynard. "Certainly not, my child. +Not by us. It is no affair of ours. He has got himself into some +trouble with the soldiers. Perhaps, as Mr Swinton says, political. +Let him get out of it as he can. I suppose he has his friends. Whether +or not, we can do nothing for him. Not even if we tried. How could +we--strangers like us?" + +"Our Minister, mamma. You remember Captain Maynard has fought under the +American flag. He would be entitled to its protection. Shall we go the +Embassy?" + +"We'll do nothing of the kind, silly girl. I tell you it's no affair of +ours. We shan't make or meddle with it. Come! let us return to the +hotel. These soldiers seem to be behaving strangely. We'd better get +out of their way. Look yonder! There are fresh troops of them pouring +into the streets, and talking angrily to the people?" + +It was as Mrs Girdwood had said. From the side streets armed bands +were issuing, one after the other; while along the open Boulevard came +rolling artillery carriages, followed by their caissons, the horses +urged to furious speed by drivers who appeared drunk! + +Here and there one dropped off, throwing itself into battery and +unlimbering as if for action. Before, or alongside them, galloped +squadrons of cavalry, lancers, cuirassiers, and conspicuously the +Chasseurs d'Afrique--fit tools selected for the task that was before +them. + +All wore an air of angry excitement as men under the influence of +spirits taken to prepare them for some sanguinary purpose. It was +proclaimed by a string of watchwords passing occasionally between them, +"_Vive l'Empereur! Vive l'armee! A bas les canailles de deputes et +philosophes_!" + +Each moment the turmoil increased, the crowd also augmenting from +streams pouring in by the side streets. Citizens became mingled with +the soldiery, and here and there could be heard angry shouts and +speeches of remonstrance. + +All at once, and as if by a preconcerted signal, came the crisis. It +_was_ preconcerted, and by a signal only entrusted to the leaders. + +A shot fired in the direction of the Madeleine from a gun of largest +calibre, boomed along the Boulevards, and went reverberating over all +Paris. It was distinctly heard in the distant Bastille, where the sham +barricades had been thrown up, and the sham-barricaders were listening +for it. It was quickly followed by another, heard in like manner. +Answering to it rose the shout, "_Vive l'Republique--Rouge et +Democratique_!" + +But it was not heard for long. Almost instantaneously was it drowned by +the roar of cannon, and the rattling of musketry, mingled with the +imprecations of ruffians in uniform rushing along the street. + +The fusillade commencing at the Bastille did not long stay there. It +was not intended that it should; nor was it to be confined to the _sans +culottes_ and _ouvriers_. Like a stream of fire--the ignited train of a +mine--it swept along the Boulevards, blazing and crackling as it went, +striking down before it man and woman blouse and bourgeoise, student and +shopkeeper, in short all who had gone forth for a promenade on that +awful afternoon. The sober husband with wife on one arm and child on +the other, the gay grisette with her student protector, the unsuspicious +stranger, lady or gentleman, were alike prostrated under that leaden +shower of death. People rushed screaming towards the doorways, or +attempted to escape through side streets. But here, too, they were met +by men in uniform. Chasseurs and Zouaves, who with foaming lips and +cheeks black from the biting of cartridges, drove them back before sabre +and bayonet, impaling them by scores, amidst hoarse shouts and fiendish +cachinnation, as of maniacs let forth to indulge in a wild saturnalia of +death! + +And it continued till the pave was heaped with dead bodies, and the +gutters ran blood; till there was nothing more to kill, and cruelty +stayed its stroke for want of a victim! + +A dread episode was that massacre of the Second of December striking +terror to the heart, not only of Paris, but France. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR. + +"I'LL COME TO YOU!" + +In the balconied window of a handsome house fronting on the Tuileries +Gardens were two female figures, neither of which had anything to +pronounce them Parisian. One was a young girl with an English face, +bright roseate complexion, and sunny hair; the other was a tawny-skinned +mulatto. + +The reader will recognise Blanche Vernon and her attendant, Sabina. + +It was not strange that Maynard could not find Sir George at any of the +hotels. The English baronet was quartered as above, having preferred +the privacy of a _maison meublee_. + +Sir George was not at home; and his daughter, with Sabina by her side, +had stepped out upon the balcony to observe the ever-changing panorama +upon the street below. + +The call of a cavalry bugle, with the braying of a military band, had +made them aware that soldiers were passing--a sight attractive to women, +whether young or old, dark or fair. + +On looking over the parapet, they saw that the street was filled with +them: soldiers of all arms--infantry, cavalry, artillery--some halted, +some marching past; while officers in brilliant uniforms, mounted on +fine horses, were galloping to and fro, vociferating orders to the +various squadrons they commanded. + +For some time the young English girl and her attendant looked down upon +the glittering array, without exchanging speech. + +It was Sabina who at length broke silence. + +"Dey ain't nowha longside ow British officas, for all dat gildin' an' +red trowsas. Dey minds me ob a monkey I once see in 'Badoes dress' up +soja fashion--jes' like dat monkey some o' 'em look?" + +"Come, Sabby! you are severe in your criticism. These French officers +have the name of being very brave and gallant." + +The daughter of Sir George Vernon was a year older than when last seen +by us. She had travelled a great deal of late. Though still but a +child, it was not strange she should talk with the sageness of a woman. + +"Doan blieve it," was the curt answer of the attendant. "Dar only brave +when dey drink wine, an' gallant when de womans am good-looking. Dat's +what dese French be. Affer all dey's only 'publicans, jess de same as +in dem 'Meriky States." + +The remark seemed to produce a sudden change in the attitude of the +young girl. A remembrance came over her; and instead of continuing to +gaze at the soldiers below, she stood abstracted and thoughtful. + +Sabina noticed her abstraction, and had some suspicion of what was +causing it. Though her young mistress had long since ceased to be a +communicative child, the shrewd attendant could guess what was passing +through her thoughts. + +The words "Republic" and "America," though spoken in Badian patois, had +recalled incidents, by Blanche never to be forgotten. + +Despite her late reticence on the subject of these past scenes, Sabina +knew that she still fondly remembered them. Her silence but showed it +the more. + +"'Deed yes, Missy Blanche," continued the mulatto, "dem fellas down dar +hab no respeck for politeness. Jess see de way dey's swaggerin'! Look +how dey push dem poor people 'bout!" + +She referred to an incident transpiring on the street below. A small +troop of Zouaves, marching rapidly along the sidewalk, had closed +suddenly upon a crowd of civilian spectators. Instead of giving fair +time for the latter to make way, the officer at the head of the troop +not only vented vociferations upon them, but threatened them with drawn +sword; while the red-breeched ruffians at his back seemed equally ready +to make use of their bayonets! + +Some of the people treated it as a joke, and laughed loudly; others gave +back angry words or jeers; while the majority appeared awed and +trembling. + +"Dem's de sojas ob de 'public--de officas, too!" exultingly pursued the +loyal Badian. "You nebba see officas ob de Queen of England do dat way. +Nebba!" + +"No, nor all republican officers, Sabby. I know one who would not, and +so do you." + +"Ah! Missy Blanche; me guess who you peakin' of. Dat young genlum save +you from de 'tagin' ob de steama. Berry true. He was brave, gallant +offica--Sabby say dat." + +"But he was a republican!" + +"Well, maybe he wa. Dey said so. But he wan't none ob de 'Meriky +'publicans, nor ob dese French neida. Me hear you fadda say he blong to +de country ob England." + +"To Ireland." + +"Shoo, Missy Blanche, dat all de same! Tho' he no like dem Irish we see +out in de Wes' Indy. Dar's plenty ob dem in 'Badoes." + +"You're speaking of the Irish labourers, whom you've seen doing the hard +work. Captain Maynard--that's his name, Sabby--is a gentleman. Of +course that makes the difference." + +"Ob course. A berry great diff'rence. He no like dem nohow. But Missy +Blanche, wonda wha he now am! 'Trange we no mo' hear ob him! You tink +he gone back to de 'Meriky States?" + +The question touched a chord in the bosom of the young girl that +thrilled unpleasantly. It was the same that for more than twelve months +she had been putting to herself, in daily repetitions. She could no +more answer it than the mulatto. + +"I'm sure I cannot tell, Sabby." + +She said this with an air of calmness which her quick-witted attendant +knew to be unreal. + +"Berry trange he no come to meet you fadda in de big house at Seven Oak. +Me see de gubnor gib um de 'dress on one ob dem card. Me hear your +fadder say he muss come, and hear de young genlum make promise. Wonda +wha for he no keep it?" + +Blanche wondered too, though without declaring it. Many an hour had she +spent conjecturing the cause of his failing to keep that promise. She +would have been glad to see him again; to thank him once more, and in +less hurried fashion, for that act of gallantly, which, it might be, was +the saving of her life. + +She had been told then that he intended to take part in some of the +revolutions. But she knew that all these were over; and he could not be +now engaged in them. He must have stayed in England or Ireland. Or had +he returned to the United States? In any case, why had he not come down +to Sevenoaks, Kent? It was but an hour's ride from London! + +Perhaps in the midst of his exalted associations--military and +political--he had forgotten the simple child he had plucked from peril? +It might be but one of the ordinary incidents of his adventurous life, +and was scarce retained in his memory? + +But she remembered it; with a deep sense of indebtedness--a romantic +gratitude, that grew stronger as she became more capable of appreciating +the disinterestedness of the act. + +Perhaps all the more, that the benefactor had not returned to claim his +reward. She was old enough to know her father's position and power. A +mere adventurer would have availed himself of such a chance to benefit +by them. Captain Maynard could not be this. + +It made her happy to reflect that he was a gentleman; but sad to think +she should never see him again. + +Often had these alternations of thought passed through the mind of this +fair young creature. They were passing through it that moment, as she +stood looking out upon the Tuileries, regardless of the stirring +incidents that were passing upon the pavement below. + +Her thoughts were of the past: of a scene on the other side of the +Atlantic; of many a little episode on board the Cunard steamer; of one +yet more vividly remembered, when she was hanging by a rope above angry +hungering waves, till she felt a strong arm thrown around her, that +lifted her beyond their rage! She was startled from her reverie by the +voice of her attendant, uttered in a tone of unusual excitement. + +"Look! Lookee yonder, Missy Blanche! Dem Arab fellas hab take a man +prisoner! See! dey fotch im this way--right under de winda. Poor +fella! Wonda what he been an' done?" Blanche Vernon bent over the +balcony, and scanned the street below. Her eye soon rested on the group +pointed out by Sabina. + +Half a dozen Zouaves, hurrying along with loud talk and excited +gesticulation, conducted a man in their midst. He was in civilian +dress, of a style that bespoke the gentleman, notwithstanding its +disorder. + +"Some political offender!" thought the daughter of the diplomatist, not +wholly unacquainted with the proceedings of the times. + +It was a conjecture that passed, quick as it had come; but only into a +certainty. Despite the disordered dress and humiliating position of the +man the young girl recognised her rescuer--he who, but the moment +before, was occupying her thoughts! + +And he saw her! Walking with head erect, and eyes upturned to the +heaven he feared not to face, his glance fell upon a dark-skinned woman +with a white toque on her head, and beside her a young girl shining like +a Virgin of the Sun! + +He had no time to salute them. No chance either, for his hands were in +manacles! + +In another instant he was beneath the balcony, forced forward by the +chattering apes who were guarding him. + +But he heard a voice above his head--above their curses and their +clamour--a soft, sweet voice, crying out: "I'll come to you! I will +come!" + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE. + +TO THE PRISON. + +"I'll come to you! I will come!" + +True to the intention thus proclaimed, Blanche Vernon glided back into +the room; and, hastily laying hold of hat and cloak, was making for the +stair. + +"You mad, missa!" cried the mulatto, throwing herself into the doorway +with the design of intercepting her. "What will you fadda say? Dat's +danger outside 'mong dem noisy sojas. For lub ob de good Jesus, Missy +Blanche, doan tink ob goin' down to de 'treet?" + +"There's no danger. I don't care if there is. Stand out of the way, +Sabby, or I'll be too late. Stand aside, I tell you!" + +"Oh, Mass Freeman!" appealed Sabina to the footman, who had come out of +his ante-chamber on hearing the excited dialogue, "you see what you +young misress agoin' to do?" + +"What be it, Miss Blanche?" + +"Nothing, Freeman; nothing for Sabby to make so much of. I'm only going +to find papa. Don't either of you hinder me!" + +The command was spoken in that tone which the servants of England's +aristocracy are habituated to respect; and Blanche Vernon, though still +only a child, was accustomed to their obedience. + +Before Freeman could make reply, she had passed out of the room, and +commenced descending the _escalier_. + +Sabina rushed after, no longer with the design of intercepting but to +accompany her. Sabby needed no bonnet. Her white toque was her +constant coiffure, outdoors as in. Freeman, laying hold of his hat, +followed them down the stair. On reaching the street, the young girl +did not pause for an instant; but turned along the footway in the +direction in which the prisoner had been conducted. Soldiers were still +passing in troops, and citizens hurrying excitedly by, some going one +way, some another. Dragoons were galloping along the wide causeway, and +through the Tuileries Gardens; while the court inside the iron railing +was alive with uniformed men. + +Loud shouting was heard near at hand, with the rolling of drums and the +sharp calling of trumpets. + +Further off, in the direction of the Boulevards, there was a constant +rattling, which she knew to be the fire of musketry, mingled with the +louder booming of cannon! + +She had no knowledge of what it could all mean. There were always +soldiers in the streets of Paris and around the Tuileries. The marching +of troops with beating drums, screaming bugles, and firing of guns, were +things of every day occurrence; for almost every day there were reviews +and military exercises. + +This only differed from the rest in the more excited appearance of the +soldiery, their ruder behaviour toward the pedestrians who chanced in +their way, and the terrified appearance of the latter, as they rushed +quickly out of it. Several were seen hastening, as if for concealment +or refuge. The young girl noticed this, but paid no regard to it. She +only hurried on, Sabina by her side, Freeman close following. + +Her eyes were directed along the sidewalk, as if searching for some one +who should appear at a distance before her. She was scanning the motley +crowd to make out the Zouave dresses. + +An exclamation at length told that she had discovered them. A group in +Oriental garb could be distinguished about a hundred yards ahead of her. +In their midst was a man in civilian costume, plainly their prisoner. +It was he who had tempted her forth on that perilous promenade. + +Whilst her eyes were still on them, they turned suddenly from the +street, conducting their captive through a gateway that was guarded by +sentinels and surrounded by a crowd of soldiers--Zouaves like +themselves. + +"Monsieur!" said she, on arriving in front of the entrance, and +addressing herself to one of the soldiers, "why has that gentleman been +taken prisoner?" + +As she spoke in his own tongue the soldier had no difficulty in +understanding her. + +"Ho--ho!" he said, making her a mock salute, and bending down till his +hairy face almost touched her soft rose-coloured cheek, "My pretty white +dove with the _chevelure d'or_, what gentleman are you inquiring about?" + +"He who has just been taken in there." + +She pointed to the gateway now closed. + +"_Parbleu_! my little love! that's no description. A score have been +taken in there within the last half-hour--all gentlemen, I have no +doubt. At least there were no ladies among them." + +"I mean the one who went in last. There have been none since." + +"The last--the last--let me see! Oh, I suppose he's been shut up for +the same reason as the others." + +"What is it, monsieur?" + +"_Par dieu_! I can't tell, my pretty sunbeam! Why are you so +interested in him? You are not his sister, are you? No; I see you're +not," continued the soldier, glancing at Sabina and Freeman, becoming +also more respectful at the sight of the liveried attendant. "You must +be une Anglaise?" + +"Yes, I am," was the reply. + +"If you'll stay here a moment," said the Zouave, "I'll step inside and +inquire for you." + +"Pray, do, monsieur!" + +Drawing a little to one side, with Sabina and Freeman to protect her +from being jostled, Blanche waited for the man's return. + +True to his promise he came back; but without bringing the required +information. + +He could only tell them that "the young man had been made prisoner for +some political offence--for having interfered with the soldiers when +upon their duty." + +"Perhaps," added he, in a whisper, "monsieur has been incautious. He +may have called out, `_Vive la Republique_!' when the parole for to-day +is `_Vive l'Empereur_!' He appears to be an Anglais. Is he a relative +of yours, mam'selle?" + +"Oh, no!" answered the young girl, turning hastily away, and without +even saying "merci" to the man who had taken such trouble to serve her. + +"Come, Sabina, let us go back to the house. And you, Freeman, run to +the English Embassy! If you don't find papa there, go in search of him. +All over Paris if need be. Tell him he is wanted--that I want him. +Bring him along with you. Dear Freeman! promise me you will not lose a +moment's time. It's the same gentleman who saved my life at Liverpool! +You remember it. If harm should come to him in this horrid city--go +quick, sir! Take this! You may need a coach. Tell papa--tell Lord +C--. You know what to say. Quick! quick!" + +The handful of five-franc pieces poured into his palm would of itself +have been sufficient to stimulate the footman; and, without protest, he +started off in the direction of the English Embassy. + +His young mistress, with her attendant, returned to the _maison +meublee_--there to await the coming of her father. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY SIX. + +TO THE EMBASSY. + +"Corneel! are you the woman to go with me?" + +The question was from Julia Girdwood to her cousin, after their return +to the Hotel de Louvre. They were alone in their _chambre de coucher_, +still shawled and bonneted, as they had come in from their promenade: + +Mrs Girdwood, yet engaged with the trio of gentlemen, was in a +reception-room below. "Where?" asked Cornelia. + +"Where! I'm astonished you should ask! Of course after _him_!" + +"Dear Jule! I know what you mean. I was thinking of it myself. But +what will aunt say, if we so expose ourselves? There's danger in the +streets. I believe they were firing upon the people--I'm sure they +were! You hear the shooting now? Isn't that the roaring of cannon? It +sounds like it!" + +"Don't be a coward, cousin! You remember a roaring loud as that against +the rocky cliffs of Newport! Did he hold back when we were in danger of +our lives? Perhaps we may save his!" + +"Julia! I did not think of holding back. I'm ready to go with you, if +we can do anything for him. What do you propose?" + +"First, find out to where they have taken him. I'll know that soon. +You saw me speak to a _commissaire_!" + +"I did. You put something into his hand?" + +"A five-franc piece for him to follow the Zouaves, and see where they +took their prisoner. I promised him twice as much to come back and make +report. I warrant he'll soon be here." + +"And what then, Julia? What can we do?" + +"Of ourselves, nothing. I don't know any more than yourself why Captain +Maynard has got into trouble with these Parisian soldiers. No doubt +it's on account of his republican belief. We've heard about that; and +God bless the man for so believing!" + +"Dear Julia! you know how I agree with you in the sentiment!" + +"Well--no matter what he's done. It's our duty to do what we can for +him." + +"I know it is, cousin. I only ask you what can we do?" + +"We shall see. We have a Minister here. Not the man he should be: for +it's the misfortune of America to send to European Governments the very +men who are _not_ true representatives of our nation. The very opposite +are chosen. The third-rate intellects, with a pretended social polish, +supposed to make them acceptable at kingly courts--as if the great +Republic of America required to be propped up with pretension and +diplomacy. Corneel! we're losing time. The man, to whom we perhaps +both owe our lives, may be at this moment in danger of losing his! Who +knows where they've taken him? It is our duty to go and see." + +"Will you tell aunt?" + +"No. She'd be sure to object to our going out. Perhaps take steps to +hinder us. Let us steal downstairs, and get off without telling her. +We needn't be long absent. She'll not know anything about it till we're +back again." + +"But where do you propose going, Julia?" + +"First, down to the front of the hotel. There we shall await the +_commissaire_. I told him the Hotel de Louvre; and I wish to meet him +outside. He may be there now. Come, Corneel!" + +Still in their promenade dresses, there was no need of delay; and the +two ladies, gliding down the stone stairway of the Louvre Hotel stood in +the entrance below. They had no waiting to do. The _commissaire_ met +them on the steps, and communicated the result of his errand. + +His account was simple. Accustomed only to speculate upon what he was +paid for, he had observed only to the limits of the stipulation. The +Zouaves had carried their prisoner to a guardroom fronting the Tuileries +Gardens, and there shut him up. So the commissary supposed. + +He had made memorandum of the number, and handed it over to the lady who +commissioned him, receiving in return a golden coin, for which no change +was required. + +"That will do," muttered Julia to her cousin, as they sallied forth upon +the street, and took their way toward the unpretentious building that +over the door showed the lettering, "U.S. LEGATION." + +There, as everywhere else, they found excitement--even terror. They had +to pass through a crowd mostly composed of their own countrymen. + +But these, proverbially gallant towards women, readily gave way to them. +Who would not to women such as they? + +A Secretary came forth to receive them. He regretted that the Minister +was engaged. + +But the proud Julia Girdwood would take no denial. It was a matter of +moment--perhaps of life and death. She must see the representative of +her country, and on the instant! + +There is no influence stronger than woman's beauty. Perhaps none so +strong. The Secretary of Legation succumbed to it; and, disregarding +the orders he had received, opened a side door, and admitted the +intercessors to an interview with the Ambassador. + +Their story was soon told. A man who had borne the banner of the Stars +and Stripes through the hailstorm of more than one battle--who had +carried it up the steep of Chapultepec, till it fell from his arm +paralysed by the enemy's shot--that man was now in Paris--prisoner to +drunken Zouave soldiers--in peril of his life! + +Such was the appeal made to the American Minister. + +It needed not such beautiful appellants. Above the conservatism of the +man--after all only social--rose the purer pride of his country's +honour. + +Yielding to its dictates, he sallied forth, determined upon doing his +duty. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN. + +DEATH UPON THE DRUM-HEAD. + +"I'll come to you! I will come!" + +Proud was the heart of the prisoner, as he heard that cheering speech, +and saw whence it had come. It repaid him for the insults he was +enduring. + +It was still ringing sweetly in his ears, as he was forced through a +doorway, and on into a paved court enclosed by gloomy walls. + +At the bottom of this, an apartment resembling a prison-cell opened to +receive him. + +He was thrust into it, like a refractory bullock brought back to its +pen, one of his guards giving him a kick as he stepped over the +threshold. + +He had no chance to retaliate the brutality. The door closed upon him +with a clash and a curse--followed by the shooting of a bolt outside. + +Inside the cell all was darkness; and for a moment he remained standing +where the propulsion had left him. + +But he was not silent. His heart was full of indignation; and his lips +mechanically gave utterance to it in a wild anathema against all forms +and shapes of despotism. + +More than ever did his heart thrill for the Republic; for he knew they +were not its soldiers who surrounded him. + +It was the first time he had experienced in his own person the +bitterness of that irresponsible rule confined to the one-man power; and +better than ever he now comprehended the heart-hatred of Roseveldt for +priests, princes, and kings! + +"It's plain the Republic's at an end here?" he muttered to himself after +venting that anathema upon its enemies. + +"_C'est vrai, monsieur_," said a voice, speaking from the interior of +the cell. "_C'est fini_! It ends this day!" + +Maynard started. He had believed himself alone. + +"You French speak?" continued the voice. "_Vous etes Anglais_?" + +"To your first question," answered Maynard, "Yes! To your second, No! +_Je suis Irlandais_!" + +"_Irlandais_! For what have they brought you here? _Pardonnez-moi, +monsieur_! I take the liberties of a fellow-prisoner." Maynard frankly +gave the explanation. + +"Ah! my friend," said the Frenchman, on hearing it, "you have nothing to +fear then. With me it is different." A sigh could be heard closing the +speech. "What do you mean, monsieur?" mechanically inquired Maynard. +"_You_ have not committed a crime?" + +"Yes! A great crime--that of patriotism! I have been true to my +country--to freedom. I am one of the compromised. My name is L--." + +"L--!" cried the Irish-American, recognising a name well-known to the +friends of freedom. "Is it possible? Is it you! My name is Maynard." + +"_Mon Dieu_!" exclaimed his French fellow-prisoner. "I've heard of it! +I know you, sir!" + +Amidst the darkness the two met in mutual embrace, mutually murmuring +those cherished words, "_Vive la republique_!" + +L--added, "_Rouge et democratique_!" + +Maynard, though he did not go thus far, said nothing in dissent. It was +not time to _split_ upon delicate distinctions! + +"But what do you mean by speaking of your danger?" asked Maynard. +"Surely it has not come to this?" + +"Do you hear those sounds?" The two stood listening. + +"Yes. There is shouting outside--shots, too. That is the rattle of +musketry. More distant, I hear guns--cannon. One might fancy an +engagement!" + +"It is!" gravely responded the Red Republican. "An engagement that will +end in the annihilation of our freedom. You are listening to its +death-knell--mine, too, I make no doubt of it." + +Touched by the serious words of his fellow-captive, Maynard was turning +to him for an explanation, when the door was suddenly thrown open, +discovering a group outside it. They were officers in various +uniforms--chiefly Zouaves and Chasseurs d'Afrique. + +"He is in here," cried one of them, whom Maynard recognised as the +ruffian Virocq. + +"Bring him out, then!" commanded one with the strap of a colonel upon +his shoulders. "Let his trial proceed at once!" + +Maynard supposed it to be himself. He was mistaken. It was the man +more noted than he--more dangerous to the aspirations of the Empire. It +was L--. + +A large drum stood in the open courtyard, with half a dozen chairs +around it. On its head was an inkstand, pens, and paper. They were the +symbols of a court-martial. + +They were only used as shams. The paper was not stained with the record +of that foul proceeding. The pen was not even dipped in the ink. +President and members, judge, advocate, and recorder, were all +half-intoxicated. All demanded blood, and had determined on shedding +it. + +Of the trial, informal as it was, Maynard was not a spectator. The door +had been re-closed upon him; and he stood listening behind it. + +Not for long. Before ten minutes had elapsed, there came through the +keyhole a simple word that told him his fellow-prisoner was condemned. +It was the word "_Coupable_!" + +It was quick followed by a fearful phrase: "_Tires au moment_!" There +were some words of remonstrance which Maynard could hear spoken by his +late fellow-prisoner; among them the phrase, "_C'est un assassinat_!" + +They were followed by a shuffling sound--the tread as of a troop +hurrying into line. There was an interval of silence, like a lull in +the resting storm. It was short--only for a few seconds. + +It was broken by a shout that filled the whole court, though proceeding +only from a single voice! It was that shout that had more than once +driven a king from his throne; but was now to be the pretext for +establishing an Empire! + +"_Vive la republique rouge_!" were the last words of the heroic L--, as +he bared his breast to the bullets of his assassins! + +"_Tirez_!" cried a voice, which Maynard recognised as that of the +sous-lieutenant Virocq; its echo around the walls overtaken and drowned +by the deadly rattle it had invoked! + +It was a strange time for exultation over such a dastardly deed. But +that courtyard was filled with strange men. More like fiends were they +as they waved their shakoes in air, answering the defiance of the fallen +man with a cry that betokened the fall of France! "_Vive l'Empereur_!" + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT. + +THE TWO FLAGS. + +Listening inside his cell, hearing little of what was said, but +comprehending all, Maynard had become half frantic. + +The man he had so lately embraced--whose name he had long known and +honoured--to be thus hurried out of the world like a condemned dog! + +He began to believe himself dreaming! + +But he had heard the protesting cry, "_C'est un assassinat_!" + +He had repeated it himself striking his heels against the door in hopes +of effecting a diversion or delay. + +He kept repeating it, with other speeches, till his voice became drowned +in the detonation of that death-dealing volley. + +And once again he gave utterance to it after the echoes had ceased, and +the courtyard became quiet. It was heard by the members of the +court-martial outside. + +"You've got a madman there!" said the presiding officer. "Who bit, +Virocq?" + +"One of the same," answered the sous-lieutenant of Zouaves. "A fellow +as full of sedition as the one just disposed of." + +"Do you know his name?" + +"No, Colonel. He's a stranger--a foreigner." + +"Of what country?" + +"Anglais--Americain. He's been brought in from the Boulevards. My men +took him up, and by my orders." + +"For what?" + +"Interfering with their duty. That isn't all. I chanced to see him +last night in the Cafe de Mille Colonnes. He was there speaking against +the government, and expressing pity for poor France." + +"Indeed!" + +"I should have answered him upon the spot, mon Colonel, but some of ours +interfered to shield him, on the excuse of his being a stranger." + +"That's no reason why he should be suffered to talk sedition here." + +"I know it, Colonel." + +"Are you ready to swear he has done so?" + +"I am ready. A score of people were present. You hear how he talks +now?" + +"True--true!" answered the President of the court. "Bring him before +us! His being a stranger shan't shield him. It's not a time to be nice +about nationalities. English or American, such a tongue must be made +silent. Comrades!" continued he in a low tone to the other members, +"this fellow has been witness to--you understand? He must be tried; and +if Virocq's charges are sufficient, should be _silenced_. You +understand?" + +A grim assent was given by the others, who knew they were but mocking +justice. For that they had been specially selected--above all, their +president, who was the notorious Colonel Gardotte. + +Inside his cell Maynard could hear but little of what was said. The +turbulence was still continued in the streets outside--the fusillade, +and the firing of cannon. Other prisoners were being brought into the +courtyard, that echoed the tread of troops and the clanking of steel +scabbards. There was noise everywhere. + +Withal, a word or two coming through the keyhole sounded ominous in his +ears. He had seen the ruffian Virocq, and knew that beside such a man +there must be danger. + +Still he had no dread of being submitted to any very severe punishment-- +much less a trial for his life. He supposed he would be kept in prison +till the _emeute_ had passed over, and then examined for an act he was +prepared to justify, and for which military men could not otherwise than +acquit him. He was only chafing at the outrage he had endured, and the +detention he was enduring. He little knew the nature of that _emeute_, +nor its design. + +In his experience of honest soldiery, he was incapable of comprehending +the character of the Franco-Algerine brigands into whose hands he had +fallen. + +He had been startled by the assassination--for he could call it by no +other name--of his fellow-prisoner. Still the latter had stood in a +certain relationship to the men who had murdered him that could not +apply to himself. Moreover, he was a stranger, and not answerable to +them for his political leanings. He should appeal to his own country's +flag for protection. + +It did not occur to him that, in the midst of a revolution, and among +such reckless executioners, no flag might be regarded. + +He had but little time to reflect thus. While he was yet burning with +indignation at the atrocious tragedy just enacted, the door of his cell +was once more flung open, and he was dragged out into the presence of +the court. + +"Your name?" haughtily demanded the President Maynard made answer by +giving it. "Of what country?" + +"An Irishman--a British subject, if you prefer it." + +"It matters not, monsieur! All are alike here; more especially in times +like these. We can make no distinction among those who sow sedition. +What is your accusation, Lieutenant Virocq?" With a tissue of +falsehoods, such as might have brought blushes to the cheek of a harlot, +the Zouave officer told his story. + +Maynard was almost amazed with its lying ingenuity. He disdained to +contradict it. + +"What's the use, messieurs?" he said, addressing himself to the court. +"I do not acknowledge your right to try me--least of all by a drum-head +court-martial. I call upon you to suspend these proceedings. I appeal +to the Embassy of my country!" + +"We have no time for application to Embassies, monsieur. You may +acknowledge our right or not--just as it pleases you. We hold and +intend exercising it. And notably on your noble self." + +The ruffian was even satirical. + +"Gentlemen," he continued, addressing himself to the other members, +"you've heard the charge and the defence. Is the accused guilty, or +not?" + +The vote was taken, beginning with a scurvy-looking sous-lieutenant, the +junior of the court. This creature, knowing what was expected of him, +pronounced: + +"_Coupable_!" + +The terrible word went round the drum, without a dissentient voice, and +was quick followed by the still more terrible phrase, pronounced by the +President: + +"_Condamne a mort_!" + +Maynard started, as if a shot had been fired at him. Once more did he +mutter to himself: + +"Am I dreaming?" + +But no, the bleeding corpse of his late fellow-prisoner, seen in a +corner of the yard, was too real. So, too, the serious, scowling faces +before him, with the platoon of uniformed executioners standing a little +apart, and making ready to carry out the murderous decree! + +Everything around told him it was no dream--no jest, but a dread +appalling reality! + +No wonder it appalled him. No wonder that in this hour of peril he +should recall those words late heard, "I'll come to you! I will come!" +No wonder his glance turned anxiously towards the entrance door. + +But she who had spoken them came not. Even if she had, what could she +have done? A young girl, an innocent child, what would her intercession +avail with those merciless men who had made up their minds to his +execution? + +She could not know where they had taken him. In the crowded, turbulent +street, or while descending to it, she must have lost sight of him, and +her inquiries would be answered too late! + +He had no hopes of her coming there. None of ever again seeing her, on +this side the grave! + +The thought was agony itself. It caused him to turn like a tiger upon +judge and accuser, and give tongue to the wrath swelling within his +bosom. + +His speeches were met only with jeers and laughter. + +And soon they were unheeded. Fresh prisoners were being brought in-- +fresh victims like himself, to be condemned over the drum! + +The court no longer claimed his attendance. + +He was left to Virocq and his uniformed executioners. + +Two of these laying hold, forced him up against the wall, close to the +corpse of the Red Republican. + +He was manacled, and could make no resistance. None would have availed +him. + +The soldiers stood waiting for the command "_Tirez_!" + +In another instant it would have been heard, for it was forming on the +lips of the Zouave lieutenant. + +Fate willed it otherwise. Before it could be given, the outer door +opened, admitting a man whose presence caused a sudden suspension of the +proceedings. + +Hurrying across the courtyard, he threw himself between the soldiers and +their victim, at the same time drawing a flag from beneath his coat, and +spreading it over the condemned man. + +Even the drunken Zouaves dared not fire through that flag. It was the +Royal Standard of England! + +But there was a double protection for the prisoner. Almost at the same +instant another man stepped hastily across the courtyard and flouted a +second flag in the eyes of the disappointed executioners! + +It claimed equal respect, for it was the banner of the Stars and +Stripes--the emblem of the only true Republic on earth. + +Maynard had served under both flags, and for a moment he felt his +affections divided. + +He knew not to whom he was indebted for the last; but when he reflected +who had sent the first--for it was Sir George Vernon who bore it--his +heart trembled with a joy far sweeter than could have been experienced +by the mere thought of delivery from death! + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY NINE. + +ONCE MORE IN WESTBOURNE. + +Once more in the British metropolis, Mr Swinton was seated in his room. + +It was the same set of "furnished apartments," containing that cane +chair with which he had struck his ill-starred wife. + +She was there, too, though not seated upon the chair. + +Reclined along a common horse-hair sofa, with squab and cushions hard +and scuffed, she was reading one of De Kock's novels, in translation. +Fan was not master of the French tongue, though skilled in many of those +accomplishments for which France has obtained special notoriety. + +It was after breakfast time, though the cups and saucers were still upon +the table. + +A common white-metal teapot, the heel of a half-quartern loaf, the head +and tail of a herring, seen upon a blue willow pattern plate, told that +the meal had not been epicurean. + +Swinton was smoking "bird's-eye" in a briar-root pipe. It would have +been a cigar, had his exchequer allowed it. + +Never in his life had this been so low. He had spent his last shilling +in pursuit of the Girdwoods--in keeping their company in Paris, from +which they, as he himself, had just returned to London. + +As yet success had not crowned his scheme, but appeared distant as ever. +The storekeeper's widow, notwithstanding her aspirations after a titled +alliance, was from a country whose people are proverbially "cute." She +was, at all events, showing herself prudent, as Mr Swinton discovered +in a conversation held with her on the eve of their departure from +Paris. + +It was on a subject of no slight importance, originating in a proposal +on his part to become her son in-law. It was introductory to an offer +he intended making to the young lady herself. + +But the offer was not made, Mrs Girdwood having given reasons for its +postponement. + +They seemed somewhat unsubstantial, leaving him to suppose he might +still hope. + +The true reason was not made known to him, which was, that the American +mother had become suspicious about his patent of nobility. After all, +he might not be a lord. And this, notwithstanding his perfect playing +of the part, which the quondam guardsman, having jostled a good deal +against lords, was enabled to do. + +She liked the man much--he flattered her sufficiently to deserve it--and +used every endeavour to make her daughter like him. But she had +determined, before things should go any further, to know something of +his family. There was something strange in his still travelling +_incognito_. The reasons he assigned for it were not satisfactory. +Upon this point she must get thoroughly assured. England was the place +to make the inquiry, and thither had she transported herself and her +belongings--as before, putting up at the aristocratic Clarendon. + +To England Swinton had followed, allowing only a day to elapse. + +By staying longer in Paris, he would have been in pawn. He had just +sufficient cash to clear himself from the obscure hotel where he had +stopped, pay for a Boulogne boat, and a "bus" from London Bridge to his +lodgings in far Westbourne, where he found his Fan not a shilling richer +than himself. Hence that herring for breakfast, eaten on the day after +his return. + +He was poor in spirits as in purse. Although Mrs Girdwood had not +stated the true reason for postponing her daughter's reception of his +marriage proposal, he could conjecture it. He felt pretty sure that the +widow had come to England to make inquiries about him. + +And what must they result in? Exposure! How could it be otherwise? +His name was known in certain circles of London. So also his character. +If she should get into these, his marriage scheme would be frustrated +at once and for ever. + +And he had become sufficiently acquainted with her shrewdness to know +she would never accept him for a son-in-law, without being certain about +the title--which in her eyes alone rendered him eligible. + +If his game was not yet up, the cards left in his hand were poor. More +than ever did they require skilful playing. + +What should be his next move? + +It was about this his brain was busy, as he sat pulling away at his +pipe. + +"Any one called since I've been gone?" he asked of his wife without +turning toward her. + +Had he done so, he might have observed a slight start caused by the +inquiry. She answered, hesitatingly: + +"Oh! no--yes--now I think of it I had a visitor--one." + +"Who?" + +"Sir Robert Cottrell. You remember our meeting him at Brighton?" + +"Of course I remember it. Not likely to forget the name of the puppy. +How came he to call?" + +"He expected to see you." + +"Indeed, did he! How did he know where we were living?" + +"Oh, that! I met him one day as I was passing through Kensington +Gardens, near the end of the Long Walk. He asked me where we were +staying. At first I didn't intend telling him. But he said he wanted +particularly to see you; and so I gave him your address." + +"I wasn't at home!" + +"I told him that; but said I expected you every day. He came to inquire +if you had come back." + +"Did he? What a wonderful deal he cared about my coming back. In the +Long Walk you met him? I suppose you have been showing yourself in the +Row every day?" + +"No I haven't, Richard. I've only been there once or twice--You can't +blame me for that? I'd like to know who could stay everlastingly here, +in these paltry apartments, with that shrewish landlady constantly +popping out and in, as if to see whether I'd carried off the contents of +our trunks. Heaven knows, it's a wretched existence at best; but +absolutely hideous inside these lodgings!" + +Glancing around the cheaply-furnished parlour, seeing the head and tail +of the herring, with the other scraps of their poor repast, Swinton +could not be otherwise than impressed with the truth of his wife's +words. + +Their tone, too, had a satisfying effect. It was no longer that of +imperious contradiction, such as he had been accustomed to for twelve +months after marriage. This had ceased on that day when the leg of a +chair coming in contact with his beloved's crown had left a slight +cicatrice upon her left temple--like a stain in statuary marble. From +that hour the partner of his bosom had shown herself a changed woman--at +least toward himself. Notwithstanding the many quarrels, and +recriminative bickerings, that had preceded it, it was the first time he +had resorted to personal violence. And it had produced its effect. +Coward as she knew him to be, he had proved himself brave enough to +bully her. She had feared him ever since. Hence her trepidation as she +made answer to his inquiry as to whether any one had called. + +There was a time when Frances Wilder would not have trembled at such a +question, nor stammered in her reply. + +She started again, and again showed signs of confusion, as the shuffling +of feet on the flags outside was followed by a knock at the door. + +It was a double one; not the violent repeat of the postman, but the +rat-tat-tat given either by a gentleman or lady--from its gentleness +more like the latter. + +"Who can it be?" asked Swinton, taking the pipe from between his teeth. +"Nobody for us, I hope." + +In London, Mr Swinton did not long for unexpected visitors. He had too +many "kites" abroad, to relish the ring of the doorbell, or the more +startling summons of the knocker. + +"Can't be for us," said his wife, in a tone of mock confidence. +"There's no one likely to be calling; unless some of your old friends +have seen you as you came home. Did you meet any one on the way?" + +"No, nobody saw me," gruffly returned the husband. + +"There's a family upstairs--in the drawing-rooms. I suppose it's for +them, or the people of the house." + +The supposition was contradicted by a dialogue heard outside in the +hall. It was as follows: + +"Mrs Swinton at home?" + +The inquiry was in a man's voice, who appeared to have passed in from +the steps. + +"Yis, sirr!" was the reply of the Irish janitress, who had answered the +knock. + +"Give my card; and ask the lady if I can see her." + +"By Jove! that's Cottrell!" muttered the ex-guardsman, recognising the +voice. + +"Sir Robert Cottrell" was upon the card brought in by the +maid-of-all-work. + +"Show him in?" whispered Swinton to the servant, without waiting to ask +permission from Fan; who, expressing surprise at the unexpected visit, +sprang to her feet, and glided back into the bedroom. + +There was a strangeness in the fashion of his wife's retreat, which the +husband could scarce help perceiving. He took no notice of it, however, +his mind at the moment busied with a useful idea that had suddenly +suggested itself. + +Little as he liked Sir Robert Cottrell, or much as he may have had +imaginings about the object of his visit, Swinton at that moment felt +inclined to receive him. The odour of the salt herring was in his +nostrils; and he was in a mood to prefer the perfume that exhales from +the cambric handkerchief of a debonnaire baronet--such as he knew Sir +Robert to be. + +It was with no thought of calling his quondam Brighton acquaintance to +account that he directed the servant to show him in. + +And in he was shown. + + + +CHAPTER FORTY. + +A CAUTIOUS BARONET. + +The baronet looked a little blank, as the open parlour door discovered +inside a "party" he had no intention of calling upon. + +Accustomed to such surprises, however, he was not disconcerted. He had +some knowledge of the ex-guardsman's character. He knew he was in +ill-luck; and that under such circumstances he would not be exactingly +inquisitive. + +"Aw, Swinton, my dear fellaw," he exclaimed, holding out his kid-gloved +hand. "Delighted to see you again. Madam told me she expected you +home. I just dropped in, hoping to find you returned. Been to Paris, I +hear?" + +"I have," said Swinton, taking the hand with a show of cordiality. + +"Terrible times over there. Wonder you came off with a whole skin?" + +"By Jove, it's about all I brought off with me." + +"Aw, indeed! What mean you by that?" + +"Well; I went over to get some money that's been long owing me. Instead +of getting it, I lost what little I carried across." + +"How did you do that, my dear fellaw?" + +"Well, the truth is, I was tempted into card-playing with some French +officers I chanced to meet at the Mille Colonnes. It was their cursed +_ecarte_. They knew the game better than I; and very soon cleared me +out. I had barely enough to bring me back again. I thank God I'm here +once more; though how I'm going to weather it this winter, heaven only +knows! You'll excuse me, Sir Robert, for troubling you with this +confession of my private affairs. I'm in such a state of mind, I scarce +know what I'm saying. Confound France and Frenchmen! I don't go among +them again; not if I know it." + +Sir Robert Cottrell, though supposed to be rich, was not accustomed to +squandering money--upon men. With women he was less penurious; though +with these only a spendthrift, when their smiles could not be otherwise +obtained. He was one of those gallants who prefer making conquests at +the cheapest possible rates; and, when made, rarely spend money to +secure them. Like the butterfly, he liked flitting from flower to +flower. + +That he had not dropped in hoping to find Mr Swinton, but had come on +purpose to visit his wife, the craven husband knew just as well as if he +had openly avowed it. And the motive, too; all the more from such a +shallow excuse. + +It was upon the strength of this knowledge that the ex-guardsman was so +communicative about his financial affairs. It was a delicate way of +making it known, that he would not be offended by the offer of a +trifling loan. + +Sir Robert was in a dilemma. A month earlier he would have much less +minded it. But during that month he had met Mrs Swinton several times, +in the Long Walk, as elsewhere. He had been fancying his conquest +achieved, and did not feel disposed to pay for a triumph already +obtained. + +For this reason he was slow to perceive the hint so delicately thrown +out to him. + +Swinton reflected on a way to make it more understandable. The _debris_ +of the frugal _dejeuner_ came to his assistance. + +"Look!" said he, pointing to the picked bones of the herring with an +affectation of gaiety, "look there, Sir Robert! You might fancy it to +be Friday. That fine fish was purchased with the last penny in my +pocket. To-morrow _is_ Friday; and I suppose I shall have to keep Lent +still more austerely. Ha! ha! ha!" + +There was no resisting such an appeal as this. The close-fisted +aristocrat felt himself fairly driven into a corner. + +"My dear fellaw!" said he, "don't talk in that fashion. If a fiver will +be of any service to you, I hope you will do me the favour to accept it. +I know you won't mind it from me?" + +"Sir Robert, it is too kind. I--I--" + +"Don't mention it. I shouldn't think of offering you such a paltry +trifle; but just now my affairs are a little queerish. I dropped a lot +upon the last Derby; and my lawyer is trying to raise a further mortgage +on my Devonshire estate. If that can be effected, things will, of +course, be different. Meanwhile, take this. It may pass you over your +present difficulty, till something turns up." + +"Sir Robert, I--" + +"No apology, Swinton! It is I who owe it, for the shabby sum." + +The ex-guardsman ceased to resist; and the five-pound note, pressed into +his palm was permitted to remain there. + +"By the bye, Swinton," said the baronet, as if to terminate the awkward +scene by obliging the borrower in a more business-like way, "why don't +you try to get something from the Government? Excuse a fellaw for +taking the liberty; but it seems to me, a man of your accomplishments +ought to stand a chance." + +"Not the slightest, Sir Robert! I have no interest; and if I had, +there's that ugly affair that got me out of the Guards. You know the +story; and therefore I needn't tell it you. That would be sure to come +up if I made any application." + +"All stuff, my dear fellaw! Don't let that stand in your way. It +might, if you wanted to get into the Household, or be made a bishop. +You don't aspire to either, I presume?" + +The ex-guardsman gave a lugubrious laugh. + +"No!" he said. "I'd be contented with something less. Just now my +ambition don't soar extravagantly high." + +"Suppose you try Lord --, who has Government influence? In these +troublous times there's no end of employment, and for men whose +misfortunes don't need to be called to remembrance. Yours won't stand +in the way. I know his lordship personally. He's not at all exacting." + +"You know him, Sir Robert?" + +"Intimately. And if I'm not mistaken, he's just the man to serve you; +that is, by getting you some appointment? The diplomatic service has +grown wonderfully, since the breaking out of these revolutions. More +especially the _secret_ branch of it. I've reason to know that enormous +sums are now spent upon it. Then, why shouldn't _you_ try to get a pull +out of the secret service chest?" + +Swinton relit his pipe, and sat cogitating. + +"A pipe don't become a guardsman," jokingly remarked his guest. "The +favourites of the Foreign Office smoke only regalias." + +Swinton received this sally with a smile, that showed the dawning of a +new hope. + +"Take one?" continued the baronet, presenting his gold-clasped case. + +Swinton pitched the briar-root aside, and set fire to the cigar. + +"You are right, Sir Robert," he said; "I ought to try for something. +It's very good of you to give me the advice. But how am I to follow it? +I have no acquaintance with the nobleman you speak of; nor have any of +my friends." + +"Then you don't count me as one of them?" + +"Dear Cottrell! Don't talk that way! After what's passed between us, I +should be an ungrateful fellow if I didn't esteem you as the first of +them--perhaps the only friend I have left." + +"Well, I've spoken plainly. Haven't I said that I know Lord--well +enough to give you a letter of introduction to him? I won't say it will +serve any purpose; you must take your chances of that. I can only +promise that he will receive you; and if you're not _too particular_ as +to the nature of the employment, I think he may get you something. You +understand me, Swinton?" + +"I particular! Not likely, Sir Robert, living in this mean room, with +the remembrance of that luxurious breakfast I've just eaten--myself and +my poor wife!" + +"Aw--by the way, I owe madam an apology for having so long neglected to +ask after her. I hope she is well?" + +"Thank you! Well as the dear child can be expected, with such trouble +upon us." + +"Shall I not have the pleasure of seeing her?" + +The visitor asked the question without any pretence of indifference. He +felt it--just then, not desiring to encounter her in such company. + +"I shall see, Sir Robert," replied the husband, rising from his chair, +and going toward the bedroom. "I rather suspect Fan's _en dishabille_ +at this hour." + +Sir Robert secretly hoped that she was. Under the circumstances, an +interview with her could only be awkward. + +His wish was realised. She was not only _en dishabille_, but in bed-- +with a sick headache! She begged that the baronet would excuse her from +making appearance! + +This was the report brought back from the bedroom by her go-between of a +husband. It remained only for the visitor to make good his promise +about the letter of introduction. + +He drew up to the table, and wrote it out, _currente calamo_. + +He did not follow the usual fashion, by leaving the envelope open. +There was a clause or two in the letter he did not desire the +ex-guardsman to become acquainted with. It concluded with the words: +"_Mr Swinton is a gentleman who would suit for any service your +lordship may be pleased to obtain for him. He is a disappointed +man_..." + +Wetting the gum with the tip of his aristocratic tongue, he closed the +envelope, and handed the epistle to his host. + +"I know," said he, "Lord A--will be glad to serve you. You might see +him at the Foreign Office; but don't go there. There are too many +fellaws hanging about, who had better not know what you're after. Take +it to his lordship's private residence in Park Lane. In a case like +yours, I know he'd prefer receiving you there. You had better go at +once. There are so many chances of your being forestalled--a host of +applicants hungering for something of the same. His lordship is likely +to be at home about three in the afternoon. I'll call here soon after +to learn how you've prospered. Bye, my dear fellaw! good-bye!" + +Re-gloving his slender aristocratic fingers, the baronet withdrew-- +leaving the ex-guardsman in possession of an epistle that might have +much influence on his future fate. + + + +CHAPTER FORTY ONE. + +A SCENE IN PARK LANE. + +In Park Lane, as all know, fronting upon Hyde Park, are some of the +finest residences in London. They are mansions, mostly inhabited by +England's aristocracy; many of them by the proudest of its nobility. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +On that same day on which Sir Robert Cottrell had paid his unintentional +visit to Mr Richard Swinton, at the calling hour of the afternoon an +open park phaeton, drawn by a pair of stylish ponies, with "flowing +manes and tails," might have been seen driving along Park Lane, and +drawing up in front of one of its splendid mansions, well-known to be +that of a nobleman of considerable distinction among his class. + +The ribbons were held by a gentleman who appeared capable of +manipulating them; by his side a lady equally suitable to the equipage; +while an appropriate boy in top-boots and buttons occupied the back +seat. + +Though the gentleman was young and handsome, the lady young and +beautiful, and the groom carefully got up, an eye, skilled in livery +decoration, could have told the turn-out to be one hired for the +occasion. + +It was hired, and by Richard Swinton; for it was he who wielded the +whip, and his wife who gave grace to the equipage. + +The ponies were guided with such skill that when checked up in front of +the nobleman's residence, the phaeton stood right under the drawing-room +windows. + +In this there was a design. + +The groom, skipping like a grasshopper from his perch, glided up the +steps, rang the bell, and made the usual inquiry. + +His lordship was "at home." + +"You take the reins, Fan," said Swinton, stepping out of the phaeton. +"Keep a tight hold on them, and don't let the ponies move from the spot +they're in--not so much as an inch!" + +Without comprehending the object of this exact order, Fan promised to +obey it. + +The remembrance of mare than one scene, in which she had succumbed to +her husband's violence, secured compliance with his request. + +Having made it, the ex-guardsman ascended the steps, presented his card, +and was shown into the drawing-room. + + + +CHAPTER FORTY TWO. + +THE POWER OF A PRETTY FACE. + +It was the front room of a suite into which Mr Swinton had been +conducted--a large apartment furnished in splendid style. + +For a time he was left alone, the footman, who officiated, having gone +off with his card. + +Around him were costly decorations--objects of _vertu_ and _luxe_-- +duplicated in plate-glass mirrors over the mantel, and along the sides +of the room, extending from floor to ceiling. + +But Mr Swinton looked not at the luxurious chattels, nor into the +mirrors that reflected them. + +On the moment of his being left to himself, he glided toward one of the +windows, and directed his glance into the street. + +"It will do," he muttered to himself, with a satisfied air. "Just in +the right spot, and Fan--isn't she the thing for it? By Jove! she shows +well. Never saw her look better in her life. If his lordship be the +sort he's got the name of being, I ought to get an appointment out of +him. Sweet Fan! I've made five pounds out of you this morning. You're +worth your weight in gold, or its equivalent. Hold up your head, my +chick! and show that pretty face of yours to the window! You're about +to be examined, and as I've heard, by a connoisseur. Ha! ha! ha!" The +apostrophe was soliloquised, Fan was too far off to hear him. + +The chuckling laugh that followed was interrupted by the re-entrance of +the footman, who announced in ceremonial strain: "His lordship will see +you in the library." The announcement produced on his lordship's +visitor the effect of a cold-water _douche_. His gaiety forsook him +with the suddenness of a "shot." + +Nor did it return when he discovered the library to be a somewhat sombre +apartment, its walls bedecked with books, and the windows looking into a +courtyard at the back. He had anticipated an interview in the +drawing-room that commanded a view of the street. + +It was a disappointment to be regretted, and, combined with the quiet +gloom of the chamber into which he had been ushered, argued ill for the +success of his application. + +"Your business, sir?" demanded the august personage into whose presence +he had penetrated. The demand was not made in a tone of either rudeness +or austerity. Lord--was noted for a suavity of manners, that, in the +eyes of the uninitiated, gave him a character for benevolence! In +answer to it, the ex-guardsman presented his letter of introduction. He +could do no more, and stood awaiting the result. + +But he reflected how different this might be if the interview had been +taking place in the drawing-room, instead of that dismal repository of +books. + +"I am sorry, Mr Swinton," said his lordship, after reading Sir Robert's +letter, "sorry, indeed, that I can do nothing to serve you. I don't +know of a post that isn't filled. I have applicants coming to me every +day, thinking I can do something for them. I should have been most +happy to serve any friend of Sir Robert Cottrell, had it been in my +power. I assure you it isn't." + +Richard Swinton was disconcerted--the more so that he had spent thirty +shillings in chartering the pony phaeton with its attendant groom. It +was part of the five pounds borrowed from the obliging baronet. It +would be so much cash thrown away--the sprat lost without catching the +salmon. + +He stood without knowing what to say. The interview seemed at an end-- +his lordship appearing wearied of his presence, and wishing him to be +gone. + +At this crisis an accident came to his aid. A squadron of "Coldstreams" +was passing along the Park drive. Their bugle, sounding the +"double-quick," was heard in the interior of the dwelling. His +lordship, to ascertain the cause of the military movement, sprang up +from the huge leathern chair, in which he had been seated, and passed +suddenly into the drawing-room, leaving Mr Swinton outside in the hall. +Through the window Lord--saw the dragoons filing past. But his glance +dwelt, not long upon them. Underneath, and close in to the curb-stone, +was an object to his eyes a hundred times more attractive than the +bright uniforms of the Guards. It was a young and beautiful lady, +seated in an open phaeton, and holding the reins--as if waiting for some +one who had gone into a house. + +It was in front of his own house; and the party absent from the phaeton +must be inside. It should be Mr Swinton, the very good-looking fellow +who was soliciting him for an appointment! + +In a trice the applicant, already half dismissed, was recalled into his +presence--this time into the drawing-room. + +"By the way, Mr Swinton," said he, "you may as well leave me your +address. I'm anxious to oblige my friend, Sir Robert; and although I +can speak of nothing now, who knows--Ha! that lady in the carriage +below. Is she of your belonging?" + +"My wife, your lordship." + +"What a pity to have kept her waiting outside! You should have brought +her in with you." + +"My lord, I could not take the liberty of intruding." + +"Oh, nonsense! my dear sir! A lady can never intrude. Well, leave your +address; and if anything should turn up, be sure I shall remember you. +I am most anxious to serve Cottrell." + +Swinton left the address; and with an obsequious salute, parted from the +dispenser of situations. + +As he drove back along the pavement of Piccadilly, he reflected to +himself that the pony equipage had not been chartered in vain. + +He now knew the character of the man to whom he had addressed his +solicitation. + + + +CHAPTER FORTY THREE. + +TO THE COUNTRY. + +There is but one country in the world where country-life is thoroughly +understood, and truly enjoyable. It is England! + +True, this enjoyment is confined to the few--to England's gentry. Her +farmer knows nought of it; her labourer still less. + +But the life of an English country gentleman leaves little to be +desired! + +In the morning he has the chase, or the shooting party, complete in +their kind, and both varied according to the character of the game. In +the evening he sits down to a dinner, as Lucullian as French cooks can +make it, in the company of men and women the most accomplished upon +earth. + +In the summer there are excursions, picnics, "garden parties"; and of +late years the grand croquet and tennis gatherings--all ending in the +same desirable dinner, with sometimes a dance in the drawing-room, to +the family music of the piano; on rarer occasions, to the more +inspiriting strains of a military band, brought from the nearest +barracks, or the headquarters of volunteers, yeomanry, or militia. + +In all this there is neither noise nor confusion; but the most perfect +quiet and decorum. It could not be otherwise in a society composed of +the flower of England's people--its nobility and squirearchy--equal in +the social scale--alike spending their life in the cultivation of its +graces. + +It was not strange that Captain Maynard--a man with but few great +friends, and lost to some of these through his republican proclivities-- +should feel slightly elated on receiving an imitation to a dinner as +described. + +A further clause in the note told him, he would be expected to stay a +few days at the house of his host, and take part in the +partridge-shooting that had but lately commenced. + +The invitation was all the more acceptable coming from Sir George +Vernon, of Vernon Hall, near Sevenoaks, Kent. + +Maynard had not seen the British baronet since that day when the British +flag, flung around his shoulders, saved him from being shot. By the +conditions required to get him clear of his Parisian scrape, he had to +return _instanter_ to England, in the metropolis of which he had ever +since been residing. + +Not in idleness. Revolutions at an end, he had flung aside his sword, +and taken to the pen. During the summer he had produced a romance, and +placed it in the hands of a publisher. He was expecting it soon to +appear. + +He had lately written to Sir George--on hearing that the latter had got +back to his own country--a letter expressing grateful thanks for the +protection that had been extended to him. + +But he longed also to thank the baronet in person. The tables were now +turned. His own service had been amply repaid; and he hesitated to take +advantage of the old invitation--in fear of being deemed an intruder. +Under these circumstances the new one was something more than welcome. + +Sevenoaks is no great distance from London. For all that, it is +surrounded by scenery as retired and rural as can be found in the shires +of England--the charming scenery of Kent. + +It is only of late years that the railway-whistle has waked the echoes +of those deep secluded dales stretching around Sevenoaks. + +With a heart attuned to happiness, and throbbing with anticipated +pleasure, did the late revolutionary leader ride along its roads. Not +on horseback, but in a "fly" chartered at the railway station, to take +him to the family mansion of the Vernons, which was to be found at about +four miles' distance from the town. + +The carriage was an open one, the day clear and fine, the country +looking its best--the swedes showing green, the stubble yellow, the +woods and copses clad in the ochre-coloured livery of autumn. The corn +had been all cut. The partridges, in full covey, and still +comparatively tame, were seen straying through the "stubs"; while the +pheasants, already thinned off by shot, kept more shy along the selvedge +of the cover. He might think what fine sport was promised him! + +He was thinking not of this. The anticipated pleasure of shooting +parties had no place in his thoughts. They were all occupied by the +image of that fair child, first seen on the storm-deck of an Atlantic +steamer, and last in a balcony overlooking the garden of the Tuileries; +for he had not seen Blanche Vernon since. + +But he had often thought of her. Often! Every day, every hour! + +And his soul was now absorbed by the same contemplation--in recalling +the souvenirs of every scene or incident in which she had figured--his +first view of her, followed by that strange foreshadowing--her face +reflected in the cabin mirror--the episode in the Mersey, that had +brought him still nearer--her backward look, as they parted on the +landing-stage at Liverpool--and, last of all, that brief glance he had +been enabled to obtain, as, borne along by brutal force, he beheld her +in the balcony above him. + +From this remembrance did he derive his sweetest reflection. Not from +the sight of her there; but the thought that through her interference he +had been rescued from an ignominious death, and a fate perhaps never to +be recorded! He at least knew, that he owed his life to her father's +influence. + +And now was he to be brought face to face with this fair young +creature--within the sacred precincts of the family circle, and under +the sanction of parental rule--to be allowed every opportunity of +studying her character--perhaps moulding it to his own secret desires! + +No wonder that, in the contemplation of such a prospect, he took no heed +of the partridges straying through the stubble, or the pheasants +skulking along the edge of their cover! + +It was nigh two years since he had first looked upon her. She would now +be fifteen, or near to it. In that quick, constrained glance given to +the balcony above, he saw that she had grown taller and bigger. + +So much the better, thought he, as bringing nearer the time when he +should be able to test the truth of his presentiment. + +Though sanguine, he was not confident. How could he? A nameless, +almost homeless adventurer, a wide gulf lay between him and this +daughter of an English baronet, noted in name as for riches, What hope +had he of being able to bridge it? + +None, save that springing from hope itself: perhaps only the wish father +to the thought. + +It might be all an illusion. In addition to the one great obstacle of +unequal wealth--the rank he had no reason to consider--there might be +many others. + +Blanche Vernon was an only child, too precious to be lightly bestowed-- +too beautiful to go long before having her heart besieged. Already it +may have been stormed and taken. + +And by one nearer her own age--perhaps some one her father had designed +for the assault. + +While thus cogitating, the cloud that flung its shadow over Maynard's +face told how slight was his faith in fatalism. + +It commenced clearing away, as the fly was driven up to the entrance of +Vernon Park, and the gates were flung open to receive him. + +It was quite gone when the proprietor of that park, meeting him in the +vestibule of the mansion, bade him warm welcome to its hospitality. + + + +CHAPTER FORTY FOUR. + +AT THE MEET. + +There is perhaps no more superb sight than the "meet" of an English +hunting-field--whether it be staghounds or fox. Even the grand panoply +of war, with its serried ranks and braying band, is not more exciting +than the tableau of scarlet coats grouped over the green, the hounds +bounding impatiently around the gold-laced huntsman; here and there a +horse rearing madly, as if determined on dismounting his rider; and at +intervals the mellow horn, and sharply-cracked whip keeping the dogs in +check. + +The picture is not complete without its string of barouches and pony +phaetons, filled with their fair occupants, a grand "drag" driven by the +duke, and carrying the duchess; beside it the farmer in his market cart; +and outside of all the pedestrian circle of smock-frocks, "Hob, Dick, +and Hick, with clubs and clouted shoon," their dim attire contrasting +with the scarlet, though each--if it be a stag-hunt--with bright hopes +of winning the bounty money by being in at the death of the deer. + +At such a meet was Captain Maynard, mounted upon a steed from the +stables of Sir George Vernon. Beside him was the baronet himself and +near by his daughter, seated in an open barouche, with Sabina for her +sole carriage companion. + +The tawny-skinned and turbaned attendant--more like what might have been +seen at an Oriental tiger hunt--nevertheless added to the +picturesqueness of the tableau. + +It was a grouping not unknown in those districts of England, where the +returned East Indian "nabobs" have settled down to spend the evening of +their days. + +In such places even a Hindoo prince, in the costume of Tippoo Sahib, not +unfrequently makes appearance. + +The day was as it should be for a hunt. There was a clear sky, an +atmosphere favourable to the scent, and cool enough for for putting a +horse to his speed. Moreover, the hounds had been well rested. + +The gentlemen were jocund, the ladies wreathed in smiles, the +smock-frocks staring at them with a pleased expression upon their stolid +faces. + +All appeared happy, as they waited for the huntsman's horn to signal the +array. + +There was one in that gathering who shared not its gaiety; a man mounted +upon a chestnut hunter, and halted alongside the barouche that carried +Blanche Vernon. + +This man was Maynard. + +Why did he not participate in the general joy? + +The reason might have been discovered on the opposite side of the +barouche, in the shape of an individual on horseback also, who called +Blanche Vernon his cousin. + +Like Maynard too, he was staying at Vernon Park--a guest admitted to a +still closer intimacy than himself. + +By name Scudamore--Frank Scudamore--he was a youth still boyish and +beardless. All the more, on this account, was the man of mature age +uneasy at his presence. + +But he was handsome besides; fair-haired and of florid hue, a sort of +Saxon Endymion or Adonis. + +And she of kindred race and complexion--of nearly equal age--how could +she do other than admire him? + +There could be no mistaking his admiration of her. Maynard had +discovered it--in an instant--on the day when the three had been first +brought together. + +And often afterward had he observed it; but never more than now, as the +youth, leaning over in his saddle, endeavoured to engross the attention +of his cousin. + +And he appeared to succeed. She had neither look nor word for any one +else. She heeded not the howling of the hounds; she was not thinking of +the fox; she was listening only to the pretty speeches of young +Scudamore. + +All this Maynard saw with bitter chagrin. Its bitterness was only +tempered by reflecting how little right he had to expect it otherwise. + +True he had done Blanche Vernon a service. He believed it to have been +repaid; for it must have been through her intercession he had been +rescued from the Zouaves. But the act on her part was one of simple +reciprocity--the responsive gratitude of a child! + +How much more would he have liked being the recipient of those +sentiments, seemingly lavished on young Scudamore, and spoken in +half-whisper into his ear. + +As the ex-captain sate chafing in his saddle, the reflection passed +through his mind: + +"There is too much hair upon my face. She prefers the cheek that is +beardless." + +The jealous thought must have descended to his heels; since, striking +them against the flanks of his horse, he rode wide away from the +carriage! + +And it must have continued to excite him throughout the chase, for, +plying the spur, he kept close to the pack; and was first in at the +death. + +That day a steed was returned to the stables of Sir George Vernon with +panting reins and bleeding ribs. + +A guest sat down to his dinner-table--a stranger among the +scarlet-coated hunters around him, who had won their respect by having +ridden well up to the hounds. + + + +CHAPTER FORTY FIVE. + +IN THE COVER. + +The day after the hunt it was pheasant-shooting. + +The morning was one of the finest known to the climate of England: a +bright blue sky, with a warm October sun. + +"The ladies are going to accompany us to the cover," said Sir George, +making glad the hearts of his sportsmen guests. "So, gentlemen," he +added, "you must have a care how you shoot." + +The expedition was not a distant one. The pheasant preserves of Vernon +Park lay contiguous to the house, between the pleasure grounds and the +"home farm." They consisted of a scrub wood, with here and there a +large tree overshadowing the undergrowth of hazel, holly, white birch, +gone, dogwood, and briar. They extended over a square mile of hilly +land, interspersed with deep dells and soft shaded vales, through which +meandered many a crystal rivulet. + +It was a noted cover for woodcock; but too early for these, and +pheasant-killing was to be the pastime of the day. + +After breakfast the shooting party set forth. The ladies were, many of +them, staying at the house; the wives, sisters, and daughters of Sir +George's gentlemen guests. But there were others invited to the sport-- +the _elite_ of the neighbourhood. + +All went out together--guided by the head gamekeeper, and followed by +spaniels and retrievers. + +Once clear of the grounds, the business of the day began; and the +banging of double-barrelled guns soon put a period to the conversation +that had continued in a general way up to the edge of the woodland. + +Once inside the cover, the shooting party soon became dismembered. +Small groups, each consisting of two or three ladies and the same number +of gentlemen, strayed off through the thicket, as chance, the ground, or +the gamekeepers, conducted them. + +With one of these went Maynard, though not the one he would have elected +to accompany. A stranger, he had no choice, but was thrown along with +the first set that offered--a couple of country squires, who cared far +more for the pheasants than the fair creatures who had come to see them +slaughtered. + +With this trio of shooters there was not a single lady. One or two had +started along with them. But the squires, being keen sportsmen, soon +left their long-skirted companions following in the distance; and +Maynard was compelled either to keep up with them and their dogs, or +abandon the shooting altogether. + +Treading on with the sportsmen he soon lost sight of the ladies, who +fell far behind. He had no great regret at their defection. None of +them chanced to be either very young or very attractive, and they were +luckily attended by a servant. He had bidden adieu to them by +exhibiting a pretended zeal in pheasant-shooting far from being felt, +and which he would scarce have done had Sir George Vernon's daughter +been one of their number. + +He was far from feeling cheerful as he strode through the preserves. He +was troubled with an unpleasant reflection--arising from an incident +observed. He had seen the baronet's daughter pair off with the party in +which shot young Scudamore. As she had done so unsolicited, she must +have preferred this party to any other. + +The ex-officer was not so expert in his shooting as he had shown himself +at the hunt. + +Several times he missed altogether; and once or twice the strong-winged +gallinaceae rose whirring before him, without his attempting to pull +trigger or even elevate his gun! + +The squires, who on the day before had witnessed his dexterity in the +saddle, rather wondered at his being such a poor shot. + +They little dreamt of what was disqualifying him. They only observed +that he was abstracted, but guessed not the cause. + +After a time he and they became separated; they thinking only of the +pheasants, he of that far brighter bird, in some distant quarter of the +cover, gleaming amidst the foliage, and radiating delight all around. + +Perhaps alone, in some silent dell, with young Scudamore by her side-- +authorised to keep apart through their cousinly relationship--he, +perhaps, pouring into her ear the soft, confident whisperings of a +cousin's love! + +The thought rendered Maynard sad. + +It might hive excited him to anger; but he knew he had no pretext. +Between him and the daughter of Sir George Vernon, as yet, only a few +speeches had been exchanged; these only commonplace expressions of +civility, amidst a surrounding of people, her friends and relatives. He +had not even found opportunity to talk over those incidents that had led +to the present relationship between them. + +He longed for, and yet dreaded it! That presentiment, at first so +confidently felt, had proved a deception. + +The very opposite was the impression now upon him as he stood alone in +the silent thicket, with the words falling mechanically from his lips: + +"She can never be mine!" + +"You will, Blanche? You will?" were other words not spoken by himself, +but heard by him, as he stood within a holly copse, screened by its +evergreen frondage. + +It was young Scudamore who was talking, and in a tone of appealing +tenderness. + +There was no reply, and the same words, with a slight addition, were +repeated: "You will promise it, Blanche? You will?" + +Stilling his breath, and the wild beating of his heart, Maynard listened +for the answer. From the tone of the questioner's voice he knew it to +be a dialogue, and that the cousins were alone. + +He soon saw that they were. Walking side by side along a wood-road, +they came opposite to the spot where he was standing. + +They stopped. He could not see them. Their persons were concealed by +the prickly fascicles of the holly hanging low. These did not hinder +him from hearing every word exchanged between the two. + +How sweet to his ears was the answer given by the girl. + +"I won't, Frank! I won't!" + +He knew not its full significance, nor the nature of the promise +appealed for. + +But the _eclaircissement_ was near, and this gave him a still greater +gratification. + +"Indeed," said Scudamore, reproachfully, "I know why you won't promise +me. Yes, I know it." + +"What do you know, Frank?" + +"Only, what everybody can see: that you've taken a liking to this +Captain Maynard, who's old enough to be your father, or grandfather! +Ah! and if your father finds it out--well, I shan't say what--" + +"And if it were so," daringly retorted the daughter of the baronet, "who +could blame me? You forget that the gentleman saved my life! I'm sure +I'd have been drowned but for his noble behaviour. Courageous, too. +You should have seen the big waves wanting to swallow me. And there +wasn't any one else to run the risk of stretching forth a hand to me! +He _did_ save my life. Is it any wonder I should feel grateful to him?" + +"You're more than grateful, Blanche! You're _in love_ with him!" + +"In love with him! Ha! ha! ha! What do you mean by that, cousin?" + +"Oh! you needn't make light of it. You know well enough!" + +"I know that you're very disagreeable, Frank; you've been so all the +morning." + +"Have I? I shan't be so any longer--in your company. Since you don't +seem to care for mine, no doubt you'll be pleased at my taking leave of +you. I presume you can find the way home without me? You've only to +keep up this wood-road. It'll bring you to the park-gate." + +"You needn't concern yourself about me," haughtily rejoined the daughter +of Sir George. "I fancy I can find my way home without any assistance +from my gallant cousin Scudamore." + +The provoking irony of this last speech brought the dialogue to an end. + +Irritated by it, the young sportsman turned his back upon his pretty +partner, and whistling to his spaniel, broke abruptly away, soon +disappearing behind a clump of copse wood. + + + +CHAPTER FORTY SIX. + +A RECREANT SPORTSMAN. + +"I owe you an apology, Miss Vernon," said Maynard, coming out from under +the hollies. + +"For what?" asked the young girl, startled by his sudden appearance, but +in an instant becoming calm. + +"For having overheard the closing of a conversation between you and your +cousin." + +She stood without making rejoinder, as if recalling what had been said. + +"It was quite unintentional, I assure you," added the intruder. "I +should have disclosed myself sooner, but I--I can scarce tell what +hindered me. The truth is, I--" + +"Oh?" interrupted she, as if to relieve him from his evident +embarrassment, "it doesn't in the least signify. Frank was talking some +nonsense--that's all." + +"I'm glad you're not angry with me. Though I've reason to be ashamed of +my conduct, I must be candid and tell you, that I scarce deem it a +misfortune having overheard you. It is so pleasant to listen to one's +own praises." + +"But who was praising you?" + +The question was asked with an air of _naivete_ that might have been +mistaken for coquetry. + +Perhaps she had forgotten what she had said. + +"Not your cousin," replied Maynard, with a smile--"he who thinks me old +enough to be your grandfather." + +"Ha! ha!" laughed Miss Vernon. "You mustn't mind what Frank says. He's +always offending somebody." + +"I do not mind it. I couldn't, after hearing how he was contradicted. +A thousand thanks to my generous defender!" + +"Oh! what I said of you was not meant for praise. I was but speaking +the truth. But for you I should have been drowned. I am sure of it." + +"And but for _you_ I should have been shot. Is not that also the +truth?" + +She did not make immediate reply. There was a blush on her cheek, +strangely contrasting with a shadow that came over her face. + +"I do not like the thought of any one being in my debt--not even you, +Miss Vernon! Confess that we are quits, then. It will give me a +contentment you do not dream of." + +"I do not quite understand you, Captain Maynard." + +"I shall be plain, then. Was it not you who sent your father to save +me?" + +It was a superfluous question, and he knew it. How could he be ignorant +of her action under the remembrance of those sweet words, "I'll come to +you! I will come!" + +She had not come, as he supposed; but she had done better. She had +deputed one who had proved able to protect him. + +"It is true," replied she. "I told papa of your trouble. It wasn't +much for me. I had no danger; and must have shown myself very +ungrateful had I not done so. You would have been saved without that. +Your other friends would have been in time." + +"My other friends?" + +"Surely you know?" + +"Oh, you mean the American Minister." + +"And the two American ladies who went with him to your prison." + +"Two ladies! I saw no ladies. I never heard of them. The American +Minister came; but he might have been too late. It is to your father-- +to _you_--I am indebted for my deliverance. I wish, Miss Vernon, you +could understand how truly grateful I feel to you. I shall never be +able to show it!" + +Maynard spoke with a fervour he was unable to control. + +It was not checked by any thought of the two ladies who had accompanied +the American Minister to his Parisian prison. He had his surmises as to +who they were; and there was a time when it would have gratified him. +Now he was only glad to think that their friendly intent had been +anticipated! + +Standing in that wood, beside a bright creature worthy of being one of +its nymphs, he was more contented to believe that she had been the +preserver of his life--as he of hers. + +It would have turned his contentment to supreme happiness could he have +believed her gratitude resembled his own--in kind. + +Her soft young heart--how he yearned to read to probe it to its +profoundest depths! + +It was a task delicate and dangerous; too delicate for a gentleman; too +dangerous for one whose own heart was in doubt. + +He feared to seek further. + +"Miss Vernon," he said, resuming the ordinary tone of discourse, "your +cousin appears to have left you somewhat abruptly. May I have the +pleasure of conducting you to the house? I think I can find the way +after hearing Master Scudamore's very particular directions." + +Master Scudamore! Had this young gentleman been present, he might have +felt inclined to repudiate the juvenile appellation. + +"Oh, no!" said the baronet's daughter, scarce longer to be called a +child. "I know the way well enough. You mustn't leave your shooting, +Captain Maynard?" + +"I cannot continue it; I have no dogs. The very zealous pair of +sportsmen to whom I was allotted soon outstripped me, leaving me alone, +as you see. If I am not permitted to accompany you, I must--I suppose-- +I must remain so." + +"Oh, if you're not going to shoot, you may as well go with me. It may +be very lonely for you at the house; but I suppose we'll find some of +the others who have returned." + +"Not lonely," replied the recreant sportsmen. "Not lonely for me, if +you, Miss Vernon, will condescend to give me your company." + +Correctly interpreted, it was a bold speech; and the moment it was made, +Maynard regretted it. + +He was glad to perceive that it was taken only in the sense of +politeness; and, the young girl consenting, he walked with her along the +wood-road in the direction of the dwelling. + +They were alone, but not unwatched. + +Skulking behind them, with gun in hand, and spaniel at his heels, went +young Scudamore. He did not attempt to overtake, but only watched them +through the wood and along the park path, till they had joined a group +of returned ladies, who chanced to be strolling through the lawn. + + + +CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN. + +JUST FIFTEEN. + +It was the birthday of Blanche Vernon. Partly in view of its +celebration had Sir George called the shooting party together. + +The morning had passed in the usual manner--shooting through the covers. +In the evening there was to be a grand dinner--and after it a dance. + +The evening hour had come; and the baronet's daughter was in her +bedroom, attended by Sabina, who had just finished dressing her for +dinner. + +But during the time of her toilet she had been occupied in the perusal +of a newspaper, that seemed greatly to interest her. Every now and then +an exclamation escaped her lips, indicative of joy, until at length the +journal dropped out of her hands; and she remained musing--as if in some +thoughtful reverie. It ended in her making the remark: "I fancy I'm in +love." + +"Law! Missy Blanche, why you 'peak so? You too young tink 'bout dat!" + +"Too young! How old should one be?" + +"Well. Dey do say it 'pend berry much on the nater ob de climate. In +dem Wess Indy Island wha it ar hot, dey fall into de affecshun sooner +dan hya in Englan'. I know lots ob young Badian girl get married 'fore +dey am fo'teen, an' dey falls in lub sooner dan dat." + +"But I'm fifteen this day. You know it's my birthday?" + +"Ob coas I know dat. Fifteen too young for English girl; 'pecially a +lady like you, Missy Blanche." + +"You must remember I lived three years in the West Indies." + +"No matter 'bout dat. It no diffrence make in 'spect ob de rule. In +Englan' you only chile yet." + +"Only a child! Nonsense, Sabby! See how tall I am! That little bed's +become quite too short for me. My toes touch the bottom of it every +night. I must have it changed for a bigger one; I must." + +"Don't signify 'bout you length." + +"Well, I'm sure I'm stout enough. And such a weight! Papa had me +weighed the other day at the railway station. Seven stone six pounds-- +over a hundred pounds. Think of that, Sabby!" + +"I know you weighty for you age. But dat ain't de quessin when you talk +'bout gettin' married." + +"Getting married. Ha! ha! ha! Who talks of that?" + +"Dat what folks go in lub for. It am de natral consequence." + +"Not always, I think." + +"Wha dey am honest in dar lub." + +"Tell me, Sabby, have you ever been in love?" + +"Sabby am a Wess Indy Creole; you no need ask de quessin. Why you ask +it, Missa?" + +"Because--because my cousin spoke to me about love, this morning, when +we were in the covers." + +"Mass Frank? Law! he you speak 'bout lub! Wha'd he say, Missy +Blanche?" + +"He wanted me to promise I should love him, and be true to him." + +"If you him lub, you boun be true to him. Ob coas, you den marry him." + +"What! a boy like that! Marry cousin Frank! Oh, no. When I get +married, it must be to a man!" + +"Berry clar you no him lub. Den may be dar am some'dy else?" + +"You admit that you've been in love yourself, Sabby?" said her young +mistress, without replying to the last remark. + +"I admit dat, Missa. Sabby hab had de feelin' twice." + +"Twice! That is strange, is it not?" + +"Not in de Wess Indy Island." + +"Well, no matter about the second time. If I should ever love twice, +then I'd know all about it. Tell me, Sabby, how did it seem the first +time? I suppose it's the same with you coloured people as with us +whites?" + +"Jess de same--only wif de Creole it am mo' so." + +"More so! More what?" + +"De Creole lub more 'trongly--more burnin' in da passion I feeled like I +kud a ate dat fella up." + +"What fellow?" + +"De fust one. I wa'n't neer so mad atter de oder. I wa good bit older +den." + +"But you were never married, Sabina?" + +"Nebba." + +There was just a tinge of shadow on Sabina's brow, as she made this +confession. + +"Why you ask all dese quessins, Missy Blanche? You no gwine think fall +in lub, nor get married?" + +"I don't think of it, Sabby. I only fear that I _have_ fallen in love. +I fancy I have." + +"Law! shoolly you know whetha you hab?" + +"No, indeed. It's for that reason I wish you to tell me how it seemed +to you." + +"Well, I tole you it feel I kud eat de fella." + +"Oh! that is very absurd. You must be jesting, Sabby? I'm sure _I_ +don't feel that way." + +"Den how, Missa?" + +"Well, I should like him to be always with me, and nobody else near. +And I should like him to be always talking to me; I listening and +looking at him; especially into his eyes. He has such beautiful eyes. +And they looked so beautiful to-day, when I met him in the wood! We +were alone. It was the first time. How much pleasanter it was than to +be among so many people! I wish papa's guests would all go away, and +leave only him. Then we could be always together alone." + +"Why, Missa, who you talk 'bout? Massa Cudamore?" + +"No--no. Not Frank. He might go with the rest. I don't care for his +staying." + +"Who den?" + +"Oh, Sabby, you know? You should know." + +"Maybe Sabby hab a 'spicion. P'raps she no far 'stray to tink it am de +gen'lum dat Missa 'company home from de shootin' cubbas." + +"Yes; it is he. I'm not afraid to tell you, Sabby." + +"You betta no tell nob'dy else. You fadder know dat, he awfu angry. +I'm satin shoo he go berry mad 'bout it." + +"But why? Is there any harm in it?" + +"Ah, why! Maybe you find out in time. You betta gib you affecshun to +your cousin Cudamore." + +"Impossible to do that. I don't like him. I can't." + +"An' you like de oder?" + +"Certainly I do. I can't help it. How could I?" The Creole did not +much wonder at this. She belonged to a race of women wonderfully +appreciative of the true qualities of men; and despite a little aversion +at first, felt she had learned to like the 'publican captain. It was he +of whom they were speaking. + +"But, Missa, tell me de truth. You tink he like you?" + +"I do not know. I'd give a great deal to think so." + +"How much you gib?" + +"All the world--if I had it. Oh, dear Sabby I do you believe he does?" + +"Well; Sabby blieve he no hate you." + +"Hate me! no--no. Surely he could not do that!" + +"Surely not," was the reflection of the Creole, equally well-skilled in +the qualities of women. + +"How could he?" she thought, gazing upon her young mistress, with an eye +that recognised in her a type of all that may be deemed angelic. + +"Well, Missy Blanche," she said, without declaring her thoughts, "whetha +he like you or no, take Sabby advice, an' no tell any one you hab de +likin' for him. I satin shoo dat not greeable to you fadder. It breed +trouble--big trouble. Keep dis ting to youse--buried down deep in you +own buzzum. No fear Sabby 'tray you. No, Missy Blanche; she tink you +dear good child. She tan by you troo de tick and thin--for ebba." + +"Thanks, dear Sabby! I know you will; I know it." + +"Das' de dinna bell. Now you must go down to drawin'-room; and doan +make dat ere cousin ob yours angry. I mean Massa Cudamore. Berry +'trange young buckra dat. Hab temper ob de debbil an' de cunnin' ob a +sarpint. If he 'spect you tink 'bout de Capten Maynad, he big trouble +wit you fadder breed, shoo as snakes am snakes. So, Missy Blanche, you +keep dark 'bout all dese tings, till de time come for confessin' dem." + +Blanche, already dressed for dinner, descended to the drawing-room, but +not before promising obedience to the injunction of her Creole +_confidante_. + + + +CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT. + +THE DINNER. + +The dinner-party of that day was the largest Sir George had given. As +already known, it was the fifteenth birthday of Blanche, his only child. + +The guests intended to take seats at the table had been carefully +selected. In addition to those staying at the Hall, there were others +specially invited for the occasion--of course, the first families of the +shire, who dwelt within dining distance. + +In all, there were over twenty--several of them distinguished by +titles--while twice as many more were expected to drop in afterwards. A +dance was to follow the dinner. + +As Maynard, having made his toilet, descended to the drawing-room, he +found it comfortably filled. Bevies of beautiful women were seated upon +the sofas, each in a wonderful abundance of skirt, and a still more +surprising scantiness of bodice and sleeves. + +Interspersed among them were the gentlemen, all in deep black, relieved +only by the time-honoured white choker--their plain dresses contrasting +oddly with the rich silks and satins that rustled around them. + +Soon after entering the room, he became conscious of being under all +eyes--both male and female: in short, their cynosure. + +It was something beyond the mere customary glance given to a new guest +on his announcement. As the butler in stentorian voice proclaimed his +name, coupling it with his military title, a thrill appeared to pass +through the assemblage. The "swell" in tawny moustache, forsaking his +habitual air of superciliousness, turned readily toward him; dowagers +and duchesses, drawing out their gold-rimmed glasses, ogled him with a +degree of interest unusual for these grand dames; while their daughters +vouchsafed glances of a more speaking and pleasant nature. + +Maynard did not know what to make of it. A stranger of somewhat +peculiar antecedents, he might expect scrutiny. + +But not of that concentrated kind--in a company reputed above all others +for its good breeding. + +He was himself too well-bred to be taken aback. Besides, he saw before +him faces that appeared friendly; while the eyes of the discriminating +dowagers, seen through their pebbles, instead of quizzing, seemed to +regard him with admiration! + +Though not disconcerted, he could not help feeling surprised. Many of +those present he had met before; had hunted, shot, and even dined with +them. Why should they be now receiving him with an interest not +hitherto exhibited? + +The explanation was given by his host, who, approaching in a friendly +manner, pronounced the words: + +"Captain Maynard, we congratulate you!" + +"On what, Sir George?" inquired the astonished guest. + +"Your literary success. We had already heard, sir, of your skill in +wielding the sword. We were not aware that you were equally skilful +with another and like honourable weapon--the pen." + +"You are very complimentary; but I do not quite comprehend you." + +"You will, by glancing at this. I presume, sir, you have not yet seen +it--since it has just come down by the last post?" + +As Sir George spoke, he held up a broadsheet, whose title proclaimed it +the fashionable morning journal of London. + +Maynard's eye was directed to a column, in large type, headed by his own +name. Underneath was the review of a book--a novel he had written; but +which, before his leaving London, had not received the usual notice from +the newspaper press. The journal in question gave the first public +announcement of its appearance and quality. + +"Three extraordinary volumes, written by no every-day man. Of Captain +Maynard it may be said what Byron wrote of Buonaparte: + +"`And quiet to quick bosoms is a hell.'" + +So commenced the review; and then ran on in the same strain of almost +hyperbolic praise; the reviewer ending his remarks with the statement +that "a new star had appeared in the literary firmament." + +The author did not read the long column of compliment paid by some +generous pen--of course outside the literary clique--and entirely +unknown to him. He only glanced at the opening paragraphs and +conclusion, returning the paper to the hand of his host. + +It would be untrue to say he was not pleased; but equally so to declare +that he was not also surprised. He had little thought, while recording +some incidents of his life in a far foreign land--while blending them +with emotions of a still later date, and moulding them into romance-- +little had he dreamt that his _labour of love_ was destined to give him +a new kind of fame, and effect a complete change in his career. +Hitherto he had thought only of the sword. It was to be laid aside for +the pen. + +"Dinner is served?" announced the butler, throwing wide open the +drawing-room doors. + +Sir George's guests paired off by introduction; the newly discovered +author finding himself bestowed upon a lady of title. + +She was a young and interesting creature, the Lady Mary P--, daughter of +one of the proudest peers in the realm. + +But her escort cared little for this. He was thinking of that younger +and yet more interesting creature--the daughter of his host. + +During the few minutes spent in the drawing-room, he had been watching +her with ardent glances. + +Almost snatching the fashionable journal from her father's hand, she had +withdrawn to a retired corner, and there sat, with apparent eagerness, +devouring its contents. + +By the position of the sheet, he could tell the column on which she was +engaged; and, as the light of the chandelier fell upon her face, he +endeavoured to read its expression. + +While writing that romance, he remembered with what tender emotions he +had been thinking of her. Did she reciprocate those thoughts, now +reading the review of it? + +It was sweet to perceive a smile upon her countenance, as if the praise +bestowed was giving her gratification. Sweeter still, when, the reading +finished, she looked searchingly around the room, till her eyes rested +upon him, with a proud, pleased expression! + +A summons to the best dinner in the world was but a rude interruption to +that adorable glance. + +As he afterwards sat near the head of the dinner-table, with Lady Mary +by his side, how he envied the more juvenile guests at the foot, +especially young Scudamore, to whom had been allotted that bright, +beautiful star, whose birth they were assembled to celebrate! + +Maynard could no more see her. Between them was a huge epergne, loaded +with the spoils of the conservatory. How he detested its ferns and its +flowers, the gardener who had gathered, and the hand that arranged them +into such impenetrable festoons! + +During the dinner he was inattentive to his titled companion--almost to +impoliteness. Her pleasant speeches were scarce listened to, or +answered incoherently. Even her ample silken skirts, insidiously +rustling against his knees, failed to inspire him with the divinity of +her presence! + +Lady Mary had reason to believe in a doctrine oft propounded: that in +social life men of genius are not only insipid, but stupid. No doubt +she thought Maynard so; for it seemed a relief to her, as the dinner +came to an end, and the ladies rose to betake themselves to the +drawing-room. + +Even with an ill grace did he draw back her chair: his eyes straying +across the table, where Blanche Vernon was filing past in the string of +departing guests. + +But a glance given by the latter, after clearing the epergne, more than +repaid him for the frown upon Lady Mary's face, as she swept away from +his side! + + + +CHAPTER FORTY NINE. + +THE DANCE. + +The gentlemen stayed but a short while over their wine. The twanging of +harp-strings and tuning of violins, heard outside, told that their +presence was required in the drawing-room--whither Sir George soon +conducted them. + +During the two hours spent at dinner, a staff of domestics had been busy +in the drawing-room. The carpets had been taken up, and the floor waxed +almost to an icy smoothness. The additional guests had arrived; and +were grouped over it, waiting for the music to begin. + +There is no dance so delicious as that of the drawing-room--especially +in an English country house. There is a pleasant home-feeling about it, +unknown to the crush of the public ball--be it "county" or "hunt." + +It is full of mystic imaginations--recalling Sir Roger de Coverley, and +those dear olden times of supposed Arcadian innocence. + +The dancers all know each other. If not, introductions are easily +obtained, and there is no dread about making new acquaintances: since +there is no danger in doing so. + +Inside the room is an atmosphere you can breathe without thought of +being stifled; outside a supper you can eat, and wines you may drink +without fear of being poisoned--adjuncts rarely found near the shrines +of Terpsichore. + +Maynard, though still a stranger to most of Sir George's guests, was +made acquainted with as many of them as chanced in his way. Those +lately arrived had also read the fashionable journal, or heard of its +comments on the new romance soon to be sent them by "Mudie." And there +is no circle in which genius meets with greater admiration than in that +of the English aristocracy--especially when supposed to have been +discovered in one of their own class. + +Somewhat to his surprise, Maynard found himself the hero of the hour. +He could not help feeling gratified by complimentary speeches that came +from titled lips--many of them the noblest in the land. It was enough +to make him contented. He might have reflected, how foolish he had been +in embracing a political faith at variance with that of all around him, +and so long separating him from their pleasant companionship. + +In the face of success in a far different field, this seemed for the +time forgotten by them. + +And by him, too: though without any intention of ever forsaking those +republican principles he had adopted for his creed. His political +leanings were not alone of choice, but conviction. He could not have +changed them, if he would. + +But there was no need to intrude them in that social circle; and, as he +stood listening to praise from pretty lips, he felt contented--even to +happiness. + +That happiness reached its highest point, as he heard half-whispered in +his ear the congratulatory speech: "I'm so glad of your success?" + +It came from a young girl with whom he was dancing in the Lancers, and +who, for the first time during the night, had become his partner. It +was Blanche Vernon. + +"I fear you are flattering me?" was his reply. "At all events, the +reviewer has done so. The journal from which you've drawn your +deduction is noted for its generosity to young authors--an exception to +the general rule. It is to that I am indebted for what you, Miss +Vernon, are pleased to term success. It is only the enthusiasm of my +reviewer; perhaps interested in scenes that may be novel to him. Those +described in my romance are of a land not much known, and still less +written about." + +"But they are very interesting!" + +"How can you tell that?" asked Maynard, in surprise. "You have not read +the book?" + +"No; but the newspaper has given the story--a portion of it. I can +judge from that." + +The author had not been aware of this. He had only glanced at the +literary notice--at its first and final paragraphs. + +These had flattered him; but not so much as the words now heard, and +appearing truthfully spoken. + +A thrill of delight ran through him, at the thought of those scenes +having interested her. She had been in his thoughts all the while he +was painting them. It was she who had inspired that portraiture of a +"CHILD WIFE," giving to the book any charm he supposed it to possess. + +He was almost tempted to tell her so; and might have done it, but for +the danger of being overheard by the dancers. + +"I am sure it is a very interesting story," said she, as they came +together again after "turning to corners." + +"I shall continue to think so, till I've read the book; and then you +shall have my own opinion of it." + +"I have no doubt you'll be disappointed. The story is one of rude +frontier life, not likely to be interesting to young ladies." + +"But your reviewer does not say so. Quite the contrary. He describes +it as full of very tender scenes." + +"I hope _you_ may like them." + +"Oh! I'm so anxious to read it!" continued the young girl, without +appearing to notice the speech so pointedly addressed to her. "I'm sure +I shan't sleep to-night, thinking about it!" + +"Miss Vernon, you know not how much I am gratified by the interest you +take in my first literary effort. If," added the author with a laugh, +"I could only think you would not be able to sleep the night after +reading it, I might believe in the success which the newspaper speaks +of." + +"Perhaps it may be so. We shall soon see. Papa has already telegraphed +to Mudie's for the book to be sent down, and we may expect it by the +morning train. To-morrow night--if you've not made the story a very +long one--I promise you my judgment upon it." + +"The story is not long. I shall be impatient to hear what you think of +it." + +And he was impatient. All next day, while tramping through stubble and +turnip-field in pursuit of partridges, and banging away at the birds, he +had thoughts only of his book, and her he knew to be reading it! + + + +CHAPTER FIFTY. + +A JEALOUS COUSIN. + +Frank Scudamore, of age about eighteen, was one of England's gilded +youth. + +Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, brought up amidst abundance of +gold, with broad acres for his heritage, and a peer age in prospect, he +was deemed a desirable companion for young girls, soon to become women +and wives. + +More than one match-making mother had his name upon her list of +"eligibles." + +It soon became evident that these ladies would be under the necessity of +"scratching" him; inasmuch as the prospective peer had fixed his +affections upon one who was motherless--Blanche Vernon. + +He had passed enough time at Vernon Park to become acquainted with the +rare qualities of his cousin. As a boy he had loved her; as a youth he +adored her. + +It had never occurred to him that anything should come between him and +his hopes, or rather his desires. Why should he talk about hopes, since +the experience of his whole life taught him that to wish was to obtain? + +He wished for Blanche Vernon; and had no fear about obtaining her. He +did not even think it necessary to make an effort to win her. He knew +that his father, Lord Scudamore, looked forward to the alliance; and +that her father was equally favourable to it. There could be no +opposition from any quarter, and he only waited till his young +sweetheart should be ready to become a wife, that he might propose to +her, and be accepted. + +He did not think of his own youthfulness. At eighteen he believed +himself a man. + +Hitherto he had been little troubled with competitors. It is true that +others of the _jeunesse dore_ had looked at, and talked of the beautiful +Blanche Vernon. + +But Frank Scudamore, endowed with extraordinary chums, as favoured by +chances, had little to fear from their rivalry; and one after another, +on shedding their evanescent light, had disappeared from his path. + +At length came that black shadow across it; in the person of a man, old +enough, as he had spitefully said, to be Blanche Vernon's father! The +grandfather was an expression of hyperbole. + +This man was Maynard. + +Scudamore, while visiting at Vernon Park, had heard a good deal said in +praise of the adventurous stranger; too much to make it possible he +should ever take a liking to him--especially as the praise had proceeded +from the lips of his pretty cousin. He had met Maynard for the first +time at the shooting party, and his anticipated dislike was realised, if +not reciprocated. + +It was the most intense of antipathies--that of jealousy. + +It had shown itself at the hunting meet, in the pheasant preserves, in +the archery grounds, in the house at home--in short everywhere. + +As already known, he had followed his cousin along the wood-path. He +had watched every movement made by her while in the company of her +strange escort--angry at himself for having so carelessly abandoned her. +He had not heard the conversation passing between them; but saw enough +to satisfy him that it savoured of more than a common confidence. He +had been smarting with jealousy all the rest of that day, and all the +next, which was her birthday; jealous at dinner, as he observed her eyes +making vain endeavours to pierce the epergne of flowers; madly jealous +in the dance--especially at that time when the "Lancers" were on the +floor, and she stood partner to the man "old enough to be her father." + +Notwithstanding the noble blood in his veins, Scudamore was mean enough +to keep close to them, and listen! + +And he heard some of the speeches, half-compromising, that had passed +between them. + +Stung to desperation, he determined to report them to his uncle. + +On the day following his daughter's birthday, Sir George did not +accompany his guests to the field. He excused himself, on the plea that +diplomatic business required him to confine himself to his library. He +was sincere; for such was in reality the case. + +His daughter also stayed at home. As expected, the new novel had come +down--an uncut copy, fresh from the hands of the binder. + +Blanche had seized upon it; and gaily bidding every one goodbye, had +hurried off to her own apartment, to remain immured for the day! + +With joy Maynard saw this, as he sallied forth along with the shooting +party. Scudamore, staying at home, beheld it with bitter chagrin. + +Each had his own thoughts, as to the effect the perusal of the book +might produce. + +It was near mid-day, and the diplomatic baronet was seated in his +library, preparing to answer a despatch freshly received from the +Foreign Office, when he was somewhat abruptly intruded upon. His nephew +was the intruder. + +Intimate as though he were a son, and some day to be his son-in-law, +young Scudamore required to make no excuse for the intrusion. + +"What is it, Frank?" was the inquiry of the diplomatist, holding the +despatch to one side. + +"It's about Blanche," bluntly commenced the nephew. + +"Blanche! what about her?" + +"I can't say that it's much my business, uncle; except out of respect +for our family. She's your daughter; but she's also my cousin." + +Sir George let the despatch fall flat upon the table; readjusted his +spectacles upon his nose; and fixed upon his nephew a look of earnest +inquiry. + +"What is this you're talking of, my lad?" he asked, after a period +passed in scrutinising the countenance of young Scudamore. + +"I'm almost ashamed to tell you, uncle. Something you might have seen +as easily as I." + +"But I haven't. What is it?" + +"Well, you've admitted a man into your house who does not appear to be a +gentleman." + +"What man?" + +"This Captain Maynard, as you call him." + +"Captain Maynard not a gentleman! What grounds have you for saying so? +Be cautious, nephew. It's a serious charge against any guest in my +house--more especially one who is a stranger. I have good reasons for +thinking he _is_ a gentleman." + +"Dear uncle, I should be sorry to differ from you, if I hadn't good +reasons for thinking _he is not_." + +"Let me hear them!" + +"Well, in the first place, I was with Blanche in the covers, the day +before yesterday. It was when we all went pheasant-shooting. We +separated; she going home, and I to continue the sport. I had got out +of sight, as he supposed, when this Mr Maynard popped out from behind a +holly copse, and joined her. I'm positive he was there waiting for the +opportunity. He gave up his shooting, and accompanied her home; talking +all the way, with as much familiarity as if he had been her brother?" + +"He has the right, Frank Scudamore. He saved my child's life." + +"But that don't give him the right to say the things he said to her." + +Sir George started. + +"What things?" + +"Well, a good many. I don't mean in the covers. What passed between +them there, of course, I couldn't hear. I was too far off. It was last +night, while they were dancing, I heard them." + +"And what did you hear?" + +"They were talking about this new book Mr Maynard has written. My +cousin said she was so anxious to read it she would not be able to sleep +that night. In reply, he expressed a hope she would feel the same way +the night after reading it. Uncle, is that the sort of speech for a +stranger to address to Blanche, or for her to listen to?" + +The question was superfluous; and Scudamore saw it, by the abrupt manner +in which the spectacles were jerked from Sir George's nose. + +"You heard all that, did you?" he asked, almost mechanically. + +"Every word of it." + +"Between my daughter and Captain Maynard?" + +"I have said so, uncle." + +"Then say it to no one else. Keep it to yourself, Frank, till I speak +to you again. Go now! I've Government business to attend to, that +requires all my time. Go?" + +The nephew, thus authoritatively dismissed, retired from the library. + +As soon as he was outside the door, the baronet sprang up out of his +chair; and striding excitedly around the room, exclaimed to himself: + +"This comes of showing kindness to a republican--a traitor to his +Queen!" + + + +CHAPTER FIFTY ONE. + +UNDER THE DEODARA. + +The birthday of Blanche Vernon did not terminate the festivities at her +father's house. + +On the second day after, there was a dinner-party of like splendid +appointment, succeeded by dancing. + +It was the season of English rural enjoyment, when crops had been +garnered, and rents paid; when the farmer rests from his toil, and the +squire luxuriates in his sports. + +Again in Vernon Hall were noble guests assembled; and again the +inspiring strains of harp and violin told time to the fantastic gliding +of feet. + +And again Maynard danced with the baronet's daughter. + +She was young to take part in such entertainments. But it was her +father's house, and she was an only daughter--hence almost necessitated +at such early age to play mistress of the mansion. + +True to her promise, she had read the romance, and declared her opinion +of it to the anxious author. + +She liked it, though not enthusiastically. She did not say this. Only +from her manner could Maynard tell there was a qualification. Something +in the book seemed not to have satisfied her. He could not conjecture +what it was. He was too disappointed to press for an explanation. + +Once more they were dancing together, this time in a _valse_. +Country-bred as she was, she waltzed like a _coryphee_. She had taken +lessons from a Creole teacher, while resident on the other side of the +Atlantic. + +Maynard was himself no mean dancer, and she was just the sort of partner +to delight him. + +Without thought of harm, in the _abandon_ of girlish innocence, she +rested her cheek upon his shoulder, and went spinning round with him--in +each whirl weaving closer the spell upon his heart. And without thought +of being observed. + +But she was, at _every_ turn, all through the room, both she and he. +Dowagers, seated along the sides, ogled them through their eye-glasses, +shook their false curls, and made muttered remarks. Young ladies, two +seasons out, looked envious--Lady Mary contemptuous, almost scowling. + +"The gilded youth" did not like it; least of all Scudamore, who strode +through the room sulky and savage, or stood watching the sweep of his +cousin's skirt, as though he could have torn the dress from her back! + +It was no relief to him when the _valse_ came to an end. + +On the contrary, it but increased his torture; since the couple he was +so jealously observing, walked off, arm-in-arm, through the +conservatory, and out into the grounds. + +There was nothing strange in their doing so. The night was warm, and +the doors both of conservatory and drawing-room set wide open. They +were but following a fashion. Several other couples had done the same. + +Whatever may be said of England's aristocracy, they have not yet reached +that point of corruption, to make appearances suspicious. They may +still point with pride to one of the noblest of their national +mottoes:--"_Honi soit qui mal y pense_." + +It is true they are in danger of forsaking it; under that baleful French +influence, felt from the other side of the Channel, and now extending to +the uttermost ends of the earth--even across the Atlantic. + +But it is not gone yet; and a guest admitted into the house of an +English gentleman is not presupposed to be an adventurer, stranger +though he be. His strolling out through the grounds, with a young lady +for sole companion, even upon a starless night, is not considered +_outre_--certainly not a thing for scandal. + +Sir George Vernon's guest, with Sir George's daughter on his arm, was +not thinking of scandal, as they threaded the mazes of the shrubbery +that grew contiguous to the dwelling. No more, as they stopped under +the shadow of gigantic _deodara_, whose broad, evergreen fronds extended +far over the carefully kept turf. + +There was neither moon nor stars in the sky; no light save that dimly +reflected through the glass panelling of the conservatory. + +They were alone, or appeared so--secure from being either observed or +overheard, as if standing amidst the depths of some primeval forest, or +the centre of an unpeopled desert. If there were others near, they were +not seen; if speaking, it must have been in whispers. + +Perhaps this feeling of security gave a tone to their conversation. At +all events, it was carried on with a freedom from restraint, hitherto +unused between them. + +"You have travelled a great deal?" said the young girl, as the two came +to a stand under the _deodara_. + +"Not much more than yourself Miss Vernon. You have been a great +traveller, if I mistake not?" + +"I! oh, no! I've only been to one of the West India islands, where papa +was Governor. Then to New York, on our way home. Since to some of the +capital cities of Europe. That's all." + +"A very fair itinerary for one of your age." + +"But you have visited many strange lands, and passed through strange +scenes--scenes of danger, as I've been told." + +"Who told you that?" + +"I've read it. I'm not so young as to be denied reading the newspapers. +They've spoken of you, and your deeds. Even had we never met, I should +have known your name." + +And had they never met, Maynard would not have had such happiness as was +his at that moment. This was his reflection. + +"My deeds, as you please to designate them, Miss Vernon, have been but +ordinary incidents; such as fall to the lot of all who travel through +countries still in a state of nature, and where the passions of men are +uncontrolled by the restraints of civilised life. Such a country is +that lying in the midst of the American continent--the _prairies_, as +they are termed." + +"Oh! the prairies! Those grand meadows of green, and fields of flowers! +How I should like to visit them!" + +"It would not be altogether a safe thing for you to do." + +"I know that, since you have encountered such dangers upon them. How +well you have described them in your book! I liked that part very much. +It read delightfully." + +"But not all the book?" + +"Yes; it is all very interesting: but some parts of the story--" + +"Did not please you," said the author, giving help to the hesitating +critic. "May I ask what portions have the ill-luck to deserve your +condemnation?" + +The young girl was for a moment silent, as if embarrassed by the +question. + +"Well," she at length responded, a topic occurring to relieve her. "I +did not like to think that white men made war upon the poor Indians, +just to take their scalps and sell them for money. It seems such an +atrocity. Perhaps the story is not _all_ true? May I hope it is not?" + +It was a strange question to put to an author, and Maynard thought so. +He remarked also that the tone was strange. + +"Well, not all," was his reply. "Of course the book is put forth as a +romance, though some of the scenes described in it were of actual +occurrence. I grieve to say, those which have given you +dissatisfaction. For the leader of the sanguinary expedition, of which +it is an account, there is much to be said in palliation of what may be +called his crimes. He had suffered terribly at the hands of the +savages. With him the motive was not gain, not even retaliation. He +gave up warring against the Indians, after recovering his daughter--so +long held captive among them." + +"And his other daughter--Zoe--she who was in love--and so young too. +Much younger than I am. Tell me, sir, is also that true?" + +Why was this question put? And why a tremor in the tone, that told of +an interest stronger than curiosity? + +Maynard was in turn embarrassed, and scarce knew what answer to make. +There was joy in his heart, as he mentally interpreted her meaning. + +He thought of making a confession, and telling her the whole truth. + +But had the time come for it? + +He reflected "not," and continued to dissemble. + +"Romance writers," he at length responded, "are allowed the privilege of +creating imaginary characters. Otherwise they would not be writers of +romance. These characters are sometimes drawn from real originals--not +necessarily those who may have figured in the actual scenes described-- +but who have at some time, and elsewhere, made an impression upon the +mind of the writer." + +"And Zoe was one of these?" + +Still a touch of sadness in the tone. How sweet to the ears of him so +interrogated! "She was, and is." + +"She is still living?" + +"Still!" + +"Of course. Why should I have thought otherwise? And she must yet be +young?" + +"Just fifteen years--almost to a day." + +"Indeed! what a singular coincidence! You know it is my age?" + +"Miss Vernon, there are many coincidences stranger than that." + +"Ah! true; but I could not help thinking of it. Could I?" + +"Oh, certainly not--after such a happy birthday." + +"It was happy--indeed it was. I have not been so happy since." + +"I hope the reading of my story has not saddened you? If I thought so, +I should regret ever having written it." + +"Thanks! thanks!" responded the young girl; "it is very good of you to +say so." And after the speech, she remained silent and thoughtful. +"But you tell me it is not all true?" she resumed after a pause. "What +part is not? You say that Zoe is a real character?" + +"She is. Perhaps the only one in the book true to nature. I can answer +for the faithfulness of the portrait. She was in my soul while I was +painting it." + +"Oh!" exclaimed his companion, with a half suppressed sigh. "It must +have been so. I'm sure it must. Otherwise how could you have told so +truly how she would feel? I was of her age, and I know it!" + +Maynard listened with delight. Never sounded rhapsody sweeter in the +ears of an author. + +The baronet's daughter seemed to recover herself. It may have been +pride of position, or the stronger instinct of love still hoping. + +"Zoe," she said. "It is a very beautiful name--very singular! I have +no right to ask you, but I cannot restrain my curiosity. Is it her real +name?" + +"It is not. And you are the only one in the world who has the right to +know what that is." + +"I! For what reason?" + +"Because it is _yours_!" answered he, no longer able to withhold the +truth. "Yours! Yes; the Zoe of my romance is but the portrait of a +beautiful child, first seen upon a Cunard steamer. Since grown to be a +girl still more attractively beautiful. And since thought of by him who +saw her, till the thought became a passion that must seek expression in +words. It sought; and has found it. Zoe is the result--the portrait of +Blanche Vernon, painted by one who loves, who would be willing to die +for her!" + +At this impassioned speech, the baronet's daughter trembled. But not as +in fear. On the contrary, it was joy that was stirring within her +heart. + +And this heart was too young, and too guileless, either to conceal or be +ashamed of its emotions. There was no show of concealment in the quick, +ardent interrogatories that followed. + +"Captain Maynard, is this true? Or have you spoken but to flatter me?" + +"True!" replied he, in the same impassioned tone. "It is true! From +the hour when I first saw you, you have never been out of my mind. You +never will. It may be folly--madness--but I can never cease thinking of +you." + +"Nor I of you?" + +"Oh, heavens! am this be so? Is my presentiment to be fulfilled? +Blanche Vernon! do you love me?" + +"_A strange question to put to a child_!" + +The remark was made by one, who had hitherto had no share in the +conversation. Maynard's blood ran cold, as, under the shadow of the +_deodara_, he recognised the tall figure of Sir George Vernon! + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +It was not yet twelve o'clock. There was still time for Captain Maynard +to catch the night mail; and by it he returned to London. + + + +CHAPTER FIFTY TWO. + +THE ILLUSTRIOUS EXILE. + +The revolutionary era had ended; tranquillity was restored; and peace +reigned throughout Europe. + +But it was a peace secured by chains, and supported by bayonets. + +Manin was dead, Hecker an exile in transatlantic lands, Blum had been +murdered--as also a score of other distinguished revolutionary leaders. + +But there were two still surviving, whose names caused uneasiness to +despotism from the Baltic to the Mediterranean--from the Euxine to the +Atlantic. + +These names were Kossuth and Mazzini. + +Despite the influence used to blacken them--the whole power of a +corrupted press--they were still sounds of magical import; symbols that +at any day might stir up the peoples to strike one other blow for +freedom. More especially was this true of Kossuth. Some rashness shown +by Mazzini--a belief that his doctrines were too _red_--in other words, +too far advanced for the time--stinted the confidence of the more +moderate in the liberal party. + +It was otherwise with the views of Kossuth. These had all along been +strictly in accordance with conservatism--aiming only at national +independence upon a presumed republican basis. Of the _republique rouge +et democratique_ talked of in France, he had never given assent to the +_rouge_, and but partially to the _democratique_. + +If the future historian can ever find flaw in the character of Kossuth, +it will be in the fact of his having been too conservative; or rather +too national, and not enough developed in the idea of a universal +propagandism. + +Too much was he, as unfortunately most men are, a believer in +non-interference; that sophism of international comity which permits the +King of Dahomey to kill his subjects to his heart's content, and the +King of Viti-Vau to eat _his_, to the satisfaction of his stomach. + +This limitation in the principles of the Magyar chief was the only thing +in his character, known to the writer, that will exclude him from being +considered truly, grandly great. + +It may have been only assumed--it is to be hoped so--to contribute to +the success of his noble purposes. + +It certainly tended to this--by securing him the confidence of the more +timid adherents of the revolutionary cause. + +But there was another influence in his favour, and against the +triumphant despots. All knew that the failure of the Hungarian +revolution was due to causes over which Kossuth had no control--in +short, to the blackest treachery on record. That with unerring genius, +and all his soul's energy, he had protested against the courses that led +to it; and, to the last hour, had held out against the counsels of the +wavering and the wicked. Not by his own consent, but by force, had he +succumbed to them. + +It was the knowledge of this that lent that magical influence to his +name--every day growing stronger, as the story of Georgei's treason +became better understood. + +Expelled from his own land, he had sought an asylum in England. + +Having gone through the _fanfaron_ of a national welcome, in the shape +of cheap receptions and monster meetings--having passed the entire +ordeal, without succumbing to flattery, or giving his enemies the +slightest cue for ridicule--this singular man had settled down in a +modest suburban residence in the western district of London. + +There in the bosom of his beloved family--a wife and daughter, with two +sons, noble youths, who will yet add lustre to the name--he seemed only +desirous of escaping from that noisy hospitality, by this time known to +him to be nothing but the emptiest ostentation. + +A few public dinners, cooked by such coarse caterers as the landlords of +the London or Freemasons' Tavern, were all of English cheer Kossuth ever +tasted, and all he cared to claim. In his home he was not only +permitted to purchase everything out of his own sadly attenuated purse, +but was cheated by almost every tradesman with whom he had to deal; and +beyond the ordinary extortion, on the strength of his being a stranger! + +This was the sort of hospitality extended by England to the illustrious +exile, and of which her Tory press have made so much boast! But that +press has not told us how he was encompassed by British spies--by French +ones also, in British pay--watched in his outgoings and incomings-- +tracked in his daily walks--his friends as well--and under constant +incitement through secret agencies to do something that would commit +him, and give a colourable chance for bringing his career to a close! + +The outside world believed it had come to this; that the power of the +great revolutionist was broken for ever, and his influence at an end. + +But the despots knew better. They knew that as long as Kossuth lived, +with character unattainted, scarce a king in Europe that did not need to +sit trembling on his throne. Even England's model queen, or rather the +German prince who then controlled the destinies of the English nation, +understood the influence that attached to Kossuth's name, whilst the +latter was among the most active of those secret agents who were +endeavouring to destroy it. + +The hostility of the royal family of England to the ex-dictator of +Hungary is easily understood. It had a double source of inspiration: +fear of the republican form, and a natural leaning to the alliance of +kinship. The crowns of Austria and England are closely united in the +liens of a blood-relationship. In the success of Kossuth would be the +ruin of cousins-german and German cousins. + +It was then the interest of all crowned heads to effect his ruin--if not +in body, at least in reputation. His fame, coupled with a spotless +character, shielded him from the ordinary dangers of the outlaw. The +world's public opinion stood in the way of their taking his life, or +even consigning him to a prison. + +But there was still the chance of rendering him innocuous--by blasting +his reputation, and so depriving him of the sympathy that had hitherto +upheld him. + +For this purpose the press was employed--and notoriously the leading +journal: that instrument ever ready, at a price, for purposes of +oppression. + +Openly and secretly it assailed him, by base accusations, and baser +insinuations. + +He was defended by a young writer, who had but lately made his +appearance in the world of London, becoming known through the +achievement of a literary triumph; and so successfully defended, that +the Kossuth slanders, like curses, came back into the teeth of those who +had uttered them. + +In its long career of tergiversation, never had this noted newspaper +been driven into such a position of shame. There was a whole day, +during which it was chaffed on the Stock Exchange, and laughed at in the +London clubs. + +It has not forgotten that day of humiliation; and often has it given its +antagonist cause to remember it. It has since taken ample revenge--by +using its immense power to blast his literary reputation. + +He thought not of this while writing those letters in defence of freedom +and justice. Nor did he care, so long as this object might be attained. + +It was attained. The character of the great Magyar came out stainless +and triumphant--to the chagrin of suborned scribblers, and the despots +who had suborned them. + +Cleared in the eyes of the "nationalities," Kossuth was still dangerous +to the crowns of Europe--now more than ever. + +The press had failed to befoul him. Other means must be employed to +bring about his destruction. + +And other means were employed. A plot was conceived to deprive him, not +alone of his reputation, but his life. An atrocity so incredible, that +in giving an account of it I can scarce expect to be believed! + +It is nevertheless true. + + + +CHAPTER FIFTY THREE. + +A KINGLY SCHEME OF REVOLUTION. + +Once more met the conclave of crowned heads, by their representatives; +no longer in the palace of the Tuileries, but in the mansion of an +English nobleman. + +This time the ex-dictator of Hungary was the subject of their +deliberations. + +"So long as _he_ lives," said the commissioner of that crown most nearly +concerned, "so long will there be danger to our empire. A week, a day, +a single hour, may witness its dissolution; and you know, gentlemen, +what must follow from that?" + +It was an Austrian field-marshal who thus spoke. + +"From that would follow an emperor without a crown--perhaps without a +head!" + +The rejoinder came from the joking gentleman who was master of the +mansion in which the conspirators were assembled. + +"But is it really so serious?" asked the Russian Grand Duke. "Do you +not much overrate the influence of this man?" + +"Not any, altesse. We have taken pains to make ourselves acquainted +with it. Our emissaries, sent throughout Hungary, report that there is +scarce a house in the land where prayers are not nightly put up for him. +By grand couch and cottage-bed the child is taught to speak the name of +Kossuth more fervently than that of Christ--trained to look to him as +its future saviour. What can come of this but another rising--a +revolution that may spread to every kingdom in Europe?" + +"Do you include the empires?" asked the facetious Englishman, glancing +significantly toward the Grand Duke. + +"Ay, do I. And the islands, too," retorted the field-marshal. The +Russian grinned. The Prussian diplomatist looked incredulous. Not so +the representative of France; who, in a short speech, acknowledged the +danger. To his master a European revolution would have been fatal, at +to himself. + +And yet it was he, whose country had least to fear from it, who +suggested the vile plan for its avoidance. It came from the +representative of England! + +"You think Kossuth is your chief danger?" he said, addressing himself to +the Austrian. + +"We know it. We don't care for Mazzini, with his wild schemes on the +Italian side. The people there begin to think him mad. Our danger lies +upon the Danube." + +"And your safety can only be secured by action on the south side of the +Alps." + +"How? In what way? By what action?" were questions simultaneously put +by the several conspirators. + +"Explain yourself, my lord," said the Austrian, appealingly. "Bah! +It's the simplest thing in the world. You want the Hungarian in your +power. The Italian, you say, you don't care for. But you may as well, +while you're about it, catch both, and half a score of other smaller +fish--all of whom you can easily get into your net." + +"They are all here! Do you intend giving them up?" + +"Ha--ha--ha!" laughed the light-hearted lord. "You forget you're in +free England! To do that would be indeed a danger. No--no. We +islanders are not so imprudent. There are other ways to dispose of +these troublesome strangers, without making open surrender of them." + +"Other ways! Name them! Name one of them!" The demand came from his +fellow-conspirators--all speaking in a breath. + +"Well, one way seems easy enough. There's a talk of trouble in Milan. +Your white-coats are not popular in that Italian metropolis, +field-marshal! So my despatches tell me." + +"What of that, my lord? We have a strong garrison at Milan. Plenty of +Bohemians, with our ever faithful Tyrolese. It is true there are +several Hungarian regiments there." + +"Just so. And in these lies the chance of revolutionary leaders. Your +chance, if you skilfully turn it to account." + +"How skilfully?" + +"Mazzini is tampering with them. So I understand it. Mazzini is a +madman. Therefore let him go on with his game. Encourage him. Let him +draw Kossuth into the scheme. The Magyar will be sure to take the bait, +if you but set it as it should be. Send mutinous men among these +Hungarian regiments. Throw out a hope of their being able to raise a +revolt--by joining the Italian people. It will lure, not only Mazzini +and Kossuth, but along with them the whole fraternity of revolutionary +firebrands. Once in _your_ net, you should know how to deal with such +fish, without any suggestion from me. They are too strong for any +meshes we dare weave around them here: Gentlemen, I hope you understand +me?" + +"Perfectly?" responded all. + +"A splendid ideal," added the representative from France. "It would be +a _coup_ worthy of the genius who has conceived it. Field-marshal, you +will act upon this?" + +A superfluous question. The Austrian deputy was but too happy to carry +back to his master a suggestion, to which he knew he would gladly give +his consent; and after another half-hour spent in talking over its +details, the conspirators separated. + +"It _is_ an original idea!" soliloquised the Englishman, as he sat +smoking his cigar after the departure of his guests. "A splendid idea, +as my French friend has characterised it. I shall have my _revanche_ +against this proud refugee for the slight he has put upon me in the eyes +of the English people. Ah! Monsieur Kossuth! if I foresee aright, your +revolutionary aspirations will soon come to an end. Yes, my noble +demagogue! your days of being dangerous are as good as numbered?" + + + +CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR. + +A DESIRABLE NEIGHBOURHOOD. + +Lying west of the Regent's Park, and separated from it by Park Road, is +a tract of land sparsely studded with those genteel cottages which the +Londoner delights to invest with the more aristocratic appellation of +"villas." + +Each stands in its own grounds of a quarter to half an acre, embowered +in a shrubbery of lilacs, laburnums, and laurels. + +They are of all styles of architecture known to ancient or modern times. +And of all sizes; though the biggest of them, in real estate value, is +not worth the tenth part of the ground it occupies. + +From this it may be inferred that they are leaseholds, soon to lapse to +the fee-simple owner of the soil. + +The same will explain their generally dilapidated condition, and the +neglect observable about their grounds. + +It was different a few years ago; when their leases had some time to +run, and it was worth while keeping them in repair. Then, if not +fashionable, they were at least "desirable residences"; and a villa in +Saint John's Wood (the name of the neighbourhood) was the ambition of a +retired tradesman. There he could have his grounds, his shrubbery, his +walks, and even six feet of a fish-pond. There he could sit in the open +air, in tasselled robe and smoking-cap, or stroll about amidst a +Pantheon of plaster-of-paris statues--imagining himself a Maecenas. + +Indeed, so classic in their ideas have been the residents of this +district, that one of its chief thoroughfares is called Alpha Road, +another Omega Terrace. + +Saint John's Wood was, and still is, a favourite place of abode for +"professionals"--for the artist, the actor, and the second-class author. +The rents are moderate--the villas, most of them, being small. + +Shorn of its tranquil pleasures, the villa district of Saint John's Wood +will soon disappear from the chart of London. Already encompassed by +close-built streets, it will itself soon be covered by compact blocks of +dwellings, rendering the family of "Eyre" one of the richest in the +land. + +Annually the leases are lapsing, and piles of building bricks begin to +appear in grounds once verdant with close-cut lawn grass, and copsed +with roses and rhododendrons. + +Through this quarter runs the Regent's Canal, its banks on both sides +rising high above the water level, in consequence of a swell in the +ground that required a cutting. It passes under Park Road, into the +Regent's Park, and through this eastward to the City. + +In its traverse of the Saint John's Wood district, its sides are +occupied by a double string of dwellings, respectively called North and +South Bank, each fronted by another row with a lamp-lit road running +between. + +They are varied in style; many of them of picturesque appearance, and +all more or less embowered in shrubbery. + +Those bordering on the canal have gardens sloping down to the water's +edge, and quite private on the side opposite to the tow-path--which is +the southern. + +Ornamental evergreens, with trees of the weeping kind, drooping over the +water, render these back-gardens exceedingly attractive. Standing upon +the bridge in Park Road, and looking west up the canal vista, you could +scarce believe yourself to be in the city of London, and surrounded by +closely packed buildings extending more than a mile beyond. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +In one of the South Bank villas, with grounds running back to the canal, +dwelt a Scotchman--of the name McTavish. + +He was but a second-class clerk in a city banking-house; but being a +Scotchman, he might count upon one day becoming chief of the concern. + +Perhaps with some foreshadowing of such a fortune, he had leased the +villa in question, and furnished it to the extent of his means. + +It was one of the prettiest in the string--quite good enough for a +joint-stock banker to live in, or die in. McTavish had determined to do +the former; and the latter, if the event should occur within the limits +of his lease, which extended to twenty-one years. + +The Scotchman, prudent in other respects, had been rash in the selection +of his residence. He had not been three days in occupation, when he +discovered that a notorious courtesan lived on his right, another of +less celebrity on his left, while the house directly fronting him, on +the opposite side of the road, was occupied by a famed revolutionary +leader, and frequented by political refugees from all parts of the +disturbed world. + +McTavish was dismayed. He had subscribed to a twenty-one years' lease, +at a full rack-rental; for he had acted under conjugal authority in +taking the place. + +Had he been a bachelor the thing might have signified less. But he was +a benedict, with daughters nearly grown up. Besides he was a +Presbyterian of the strictest sect--his wife being still tighter laced +than himself. Both, moreover, were loyalists of the truest type. + +His morality made the proximity of his right and left hand neighbours +simply intolerable--while his politics rendered equally a nuisance the +revolutionary focus in his front. + +There seemed no escape from the dilemma, but to make sacrifice of his +dearly-bought premises, or drown himself in the canal that bordered them +at the back. + +As the drowning would not have benefitted Mrs McTavish, she persuaded +him against this idea, and in favour of selling the lease. + +Alas, for the imprudent bank clerk! nobody could be found to buy it-- +unless at such a reduced rate as would have ruined him. + +He was a Scotchman, and could not stand this. Far better to stick to +the house. + +And for a time he stuck to it. + +There seemed no escape from it, but by sacrificing the lease. It was a +tooth-drawing alternative; but could not be avoided. + +As the husband and wife were discussing the question, canvassing it in +every shape, they were interrupted by a ring at the gate-bell. It was +the evening hour; when the bank clerk having returned from the city, was +playing _paterfamilias_ in the bosom of his family. + +Who could be calling at that hour? It was too late for a ceremonial +visit. Perhaps some unceremonious acquaintance from the Land of Cakes, +dropping in for a pipe, and a glass of whisky-toddy? + +"There's yin ootside weeshes to see ye, maister." + +This was said by a rough-skinned damsel--the "maid-of-all-work"--who had +shown her freckled face inside the parlour door, and whose patois +proclaimed her to have come from the same country as McTavish himself. + +"Wishes to see me! Who is it, Maggie?" + +"Dinna ken who. It's a rank stranger--a quare-lookin' callant, wi' big +beard, and them sort o' whiskers they ca' moostachoes. I made free to +axe him his bisness. He sayed 'twas aboot taakin' the hoos." + +"About taking the house?" + +"Yis, maister. He sayed he'd heared o' its bein' to let." + +"Show him in!" + +McTavish sprang to his feet, overturning the chair on which he had been +seated. Mrs M., and her trio of flaxen-haired daughters, scuttled off +into the back parlour--as if a tiger was about to be uncaged in the +front one. + +They were not so frightened, however, as to hinder them from, in turn, +flattening their noses against a panel of the partition door, and +scrutinising the stranger through the keyhole. + +"How handsome he is!" exclaimed Elspie, the eldest of the girls. + +"Quite a military-looking man!" said the second, Jane, after having +completed her scrutiny. "I wonder if he's married." + +"Come away from there, children?" muttered the mother. "He may hear +you, and your papa will be very angry. Come away, I tell you?" + +The girls slunk back from the door, and took seats upon a sofa. + +But their mother's curiosity had also to be appeased; and, with an +example that corresponded ill with her precept, she dropped down upon +her knees, and first placing her eye, and afterward her ear, to the +keyhole, listened to every word spoken between her husband and his +strange visitor with the "whiskers called moostachoes." + + + +CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE. + +A TENANT SECURED. + +The visitor thus introduced to the South Bank villa was a man of about +thirty years of age, with the air and demeanour of a gentleman. + +The city clerk could tell him to be of the West End type. It was +visible in the cut of his dress, the tonsure of his hair, and the +joining of the moustache to his whiskers. + +"Mr McTavish, I presume?" were the words that came from him, as he +passed through the parlour door. + +The Scotchman nodded assent. Before he could do more, the stranger +continued: + +"Pardon me, sir, for this seeming intrusion. I've heard that your house +is to let." + +"Not exactly to _let_. I'm offering it for sale--that is, the lease." + +"I've been misinformed then. How long has the lease to run, may I ask?" + +"Twenty-one years." + +"Ah! that will not suit me. I wanted a house only for a short time. +I've taken a fancy to this South Bank--at least, my wife has; and you +know, sir--I presume you're a married man--that's everything." + +McTavish did know it, to a terrible certainty: and gave an assenting +smile. + +"I'm sorry," pursued the stranger. "I like the house better than any on +the Bank. I know my wife would be charmed with it." + +"It's the same with mine," said McTavish. + +"How you lie?" thought Mrs Mac, with her ear at the keyhole. + +"In that case, I presume there's no chance of our coming to terms. I +should have been glad to take it by the year--for one year, certain--and +at a good rent." + +"How much would you be inclined to give?" asked the lessee, bethinking +him of a compromise. + +"Well; I scarcely know. How much do you ask?" + +"Furnished, or unfurnished?" + +"I'd prefer having it furnished." + +The bank clerk commenced beating his brains. He thought of his +_pennies_, and the objection his wife might have to parting with them. +But he thought also, of how they had been daily dishonoured in that +unhallowed precinct. + +Even while reflecting, a paean of spasmodic revelry, heard on the other +side of the paling, sounded suggestive in his ears? + +It decided him to concede the furniture, and on terms less exacting than +he might otherwise have asked for. + +"For a year certain, you say?" + +"I'll take it for a year; and pay in advance, if you desire it." + +A year's rent in advance is always tempting to a landlord--especially a +poor one. McTavish was not rich, whatever might be his prospects in +regard to the presidency of the bank. + +His wife would have given something to have had his ear at the opposite +orifice of the keyhole; so that she could have whispered "Take it?" + +"How much, you ask, for the house furnished, and by the year?" + +"Precisely so," answered the stranger. + +"Let me see," answered McTavish, reflecting. "My own rent unfurnished-- +repairs covenanted in the lease--price of the furniture--interest +thereon--well, I could say two hundred pounds per annum." + +"I'll take it at two hundred. Do you agree to that?" + +The bank clerk was electrified with delight. Two hundred pounds a year +would be cent-per-cent on his own outlay. Besides he would get rid of +the premises, for at least one year, and along with them the proximity +of his detestable neighbours. Any sacrifice to escape from this. + +He would have let go house and grounds at half the price. + +But he, the stranger, was not cunning, and McTavish was shrewd. Seeing +this, he not only adhered to the two hundred, but stipulated for the +removal of some portion of his furniture. + +"Only a few family pieces," he said; "things that a tenant would not +care to be troubled with." + +The stranger was not exacting, and the concession was made. + +"Your name, sir?" asked the tenant intending to go out. + +"Swinton," answered the tenant who designed coming in. "Richard +Swinton. Here is my card, Mr McTavish; and my reference is Lord --." + +The bank clerk took the card into his trembling fingers. His wife, on +the other side of the door, had a sensation in her ear resembling an +electric shock. + +A tenant with a lord--a celebrated lord--for his referee! + +She could scarce restrain herself from shouting through the keyhole: + +"Close with him, Mac!" + +But Mac needed not the admonition. He had already made up his mind to +the letting. + +"How soon do you wish to come in?" he asked of the applicant. + +"As soon as possible," was the answer. "To-morrow, if convenient to +you." + +"To-morrow?" echoed the cool Scotchman, unaccustomed to such quick +transactions, and somewhat surprised at the proposal. + +"I own it's rather unusual," said the incoming tenant. "But, Mr +McTavish, I have a reason for wishing it so. It's somewhat delicate; +but as you are a married man, and the father of a family,--you +understand?" + +"Perfectly!" pronounced the Scotch _paterfamilias_, his breast almost +turning as tender as that of his better half then sympathetically +throbbing behind the partition door. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +The sudden transfer was agreed to. Next day Mr McTavish and his family +moved out, Mr Swinton having signed the agreement, and given a cheque +for the year's rent in advance--scarce necessary after being endorsed by +such a distinguished referee. + + + +CHAPTER FIFTY SIX. + +A DRESS REHEARSAL. + +The revolutionary leader who had taken up his residence _vis-a-vis_ to +the McTavish villa, and whose politics were so offensive to its royal +lessee, was no other than the ex-dictator of Hungary. + +The new tenant had been made aware of this before entering upon +occupation. Not by his landlord, but the man under whose instructions +he had taken the house. + +The proximity of the refugee headquarters was partly the cause of Mr +McTavish being so anxious to go out. It was the sole reason why Swinton +had shown himself so anxious to come in! + +Swinton had this knowledge, and no more. The motive for putting him in +possession had not yet been revealed to him. He had been instructed to +take that particular house, _coute que coute_; and he had taken it as +told, at a cost of two hundred pounds. + +His patron had provided him with a cheque for three hundred. Two had +gone into the pocket of McTavish; the other remained in his own. + +He had got installed in his new domicile; and seated with a cigar +between his lips--a real Havanna--was reflecting upon the comforts that +surrounded him. How different that couch, with its brocaded cover, and +soft cushions, from the hard horse-hair sofa, with its flattened squab! +How unlike these luxurious chairs to the sharp skeletons of cane, his +wife had reason to remember! While congratulating himself on the change +of fortune, he was also bethinking him of what had led to it. He had a +tolerably correct idea of _why_ he had been so favoured. + +But for what purpose he had been placed in the villa, or the duty there +required of him, he was still ignorant. + +He could only conjecture that he had something to do with Kossuth. Of +this he was almost certain. + +He was not to remain long in the dark about his duties. At an interview +on the morning of that day, his patron had promised to send him full +instructions--by a gentleman who should "come up in the course of the +evening." + +Swinton was shrewd enough to have a thought as to who this gentleman +would be; and it inspired him to a conversation with his wife, of a +nature peculiar as confidential. + +"Fan?" he said, taking the cigar from his teeth, and turning towards the +couch, on which that amiable creature was reclining. + +"Well; what is it?" responded she, also removing a weed from between her +pretty lips, and pouting the smoke after it. + +"How do you like our new lodgings, love? Better than those at +Westbourne?" + +"You don't want me to answer that question, Dick?" + +"Oh, no. Not if you don't wish. But you needn't snap and snarl so." + +"I am not snapping or snarling. It's silly of you to say so." + +"Yes, everything's silly I say, or do either. I've been very silly +within the last three days. To get into a cosy crib like this, with the +rent paid twelve months in advance, and a hundred pounds to keep the +kitchen! More to come if I mistake not. Quite stupid of me to have +accomplished all this?" + +Fan made no rejoinder. Had her husband closely scanned her countenance +at that moment, he might have seen upon it a smile not caused by any +admiration of his cleverness. + +She had her own thoughts as to what and to whom he was indebted for the +favourable turn in his fortunes. + +"Yes; much more to come," said he, continuing the hopeful prognostic. +"In fact, Fan, our fortune's made, or will be, if you only do--" + +"Do what?" she asked, seeing that he hesitated. "What do you want me to +do next?" + +"Well, in the first place," drawled he, showing displeasure at her tone, +"get up and dress yourself. I'll tell you what I want afterwards." + +"Dress myself! There's not much chance of that, with such rags as are +left me!" + +"Never mind the rags. We can't help it just now. Besides, love, you +look well enough for anything." + +Fan tossed her head, as if she cared little for the compliment. + +"Arrange the rags, as you call 'em, best way you can for to-night. +To-morrow, it will be different. We shall take a stroll among the +milliners and mantua-makers. Now, girl, go; do as I tell you!" + +So encouraged, she rose from the couch, and turned towards the stairway +that conducted to her sleeping apartment. + +She commenced ascending. + +"Put on your best looks, Fan!" said her husband, calling after her. "I +expect a gentleman, who's a stranger to you; and I don't wish him to +think I've married a slut. Make haste, and get down again. He may be +in at any moment." + +There was no response to show that the rude speech had given offence. +Only a laugh, sent back from the stair-landing. + +Swinton resumed his cigar, and sat waiting. + +He knew not which would be heard first--a ring at the gate-bell, or the +rustling of silk upon the stairway. + +He desired the latter, as he had not yet completed the promised +instructions. + +He had not much more to say, and a moment would suffice: + +He was not disappointed: Fan came first. She came sweeping downstairs, +snowy with Spanish chalk, and radiant with rouge. + +Without these she was beautiful, with them superb. + +Long usage had made them almost a necessity to her skin; but the same +had taught her skill in their limning. Only a connoisseur could have +distinguished the paint upon her cheeks from the real and natural +colour. + +"You'll do," said Swinton, as he scanned her with an approving glance. + +"For, what, pray?" was the interrogatory. + +It was superfluous. She more than conjectured his meaning. + +"Sit down, and I'll tell you." + +She sat down. + +He did not proceed at once. He seemed under some embarrassment. Even +he--the brute--was embarrassed! + +And no wonder, with the vile intent in his thoughts--upon the tip of his +tongue; for he intended _counselling her to shame_! + +Not to the ultimate infamy, but to the seeming of it. + +Only the seeming; and with the self-excuse of this limitation, he took +courage, and spoke. + +He spoke thus: + +"Look here, Fan. The gentleman I'm expecting, is the same that has put +us into this little snuggery. It's Lord --. I've told you what sort of +a man he is, and what power he's got. He can do wonders for me, and +will, if I can manage him. But he's fickle and full of conceit, as all +of his kind. He requires skilful management; and you must assist me." + +"I assist you! In what way?" + +"I only want you to be _civil_ to him. You understand me?" + +Fan made no reply; but her glance of assumed incredulity told of a +perfect comprehension! + +The ringing of the gate-bell interrupted the chapter of instructions. + + + +CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN. + +PATRON AND PROTEGE. + +The ringing of the bell did not cause Mr Swinton to start. It might +have done so had he been longer in his new residence. His paper "kites" +were still carried about London, with judgments pinned on to them; and +he might have supposed that the bearer of one of them was bringing it +home to him. + +But the short time he had been installed in the McTavish villa, with the +fact that a visitor was expected, rendered him comparatively fearless; +and his composure was only disturbed by a doubt, as to whether the +ringer of the bell was his patron, or only a deputy sent with the +promised instructions. + +The maid-of-all-work, that day hastily engaged, was despatched to answer +the ring. If it was an elderly gentleman, tall and stoutish, she was to +show him in at once, and without parley. + +On opening the gate, a figure was distinguished outside. It was that of +a gentleman. He was enveloped in an ample cloak, with a cap drawn over +his ears. This did not prevent the servant from seeing that he was tall +and stoutish; while the gleam of the hall-lamp, falling on his face, +despite a dyed whisker, showed him to answer the other condition for +admittance. + +"Mr Swinton lives here?" he asked, before the gate-opener could give +him invitation to enter. + +"He does, sir. Please to walk in." + +Guided by the girl, the cloaked personage threaded through the lilacs +and laurestinas, stepped on to the little piazza, on which Mr McTavish +had oft smoked his pipe; and was at length shown into the apartment +where Swinton awaited him. + +The latter was alone--his wife having retired by instructions. + +On the entrance of his visitor, Mr Swinton started up from his seat, +and advanced to receive him. + +"My lord!" said he, shamming a profound surprise, "is it possible I am +honoured by your presence?" + +"No honour, sir; no honour whatever." + +"From what your lordship said, I was expecting you to send--" + +"I have come instead, Mr Swinton. The instructions I have to give are +upon a matter of some importance. I think it better you should have +them direct from `myself.' For this reason I present myself, as you +see, in _propria persona_." + +"That's a lie!" thought Swinton, in reference to the reason. + +Of course he kept the thought to himself His reply was: + +"Just like what is said of your lordship. By night, as by day, always +at work--doing service to the State. Your lordship will pardon me for +speaking so freely?" + +"Don't mention it, my dear sir. The business between us requires that +we both speak freely." + +"Excuse me for not having asked your lordship to take a seat!" + +"I'll take that," promptly responded the condescending nobleman, "and a +cigar, too, if you've got one to spare." + +"Fortunately I have," said the delighted Swinton. "Here, my lord, are +some sold to me for Havanas. I can't answer for their quality." + +"Try one of mine?" + +The patron pulled a cigar-case out of the pocket of his coat. The cloak +and cap had been left behind him in the hall. + +The _protege_ accepted it with a profusion of thanks. + +Both sat down, and commenced smoking. + +Swinton, thinking he had talked enough, waited for the great man to +continue the conversation. + +He did so. + +"I see you've succeeded in taking the house," was the somewhat pointless +remark. + +"I am in it, my lord," was the equally pointless reply. + +More to the purpose was the explanation that followed: + +"I regret to inform your lordship that it has cost a considerable sum." + +"How much?" + +"I had to take it for a whole year--at a rent of two hundred pounds." + +"Pooh! never mind that. It's for the service of the State. In such +matters we are obliged to make liberal disbursement. And now, my dear +sir, let me explain to you why it has been taken, and for what purpose +you have been placed in it." + +Swinton settled down into an attitude of obsequious attention. + +His patron proceeded: + +"Directly opposite lives a man, whose name is already known to you." + +Without the name being mentioned, the listener nodded assent. He knew +it was Kossuth. + +"You will observe, ere long, that this man has many visitors." + +"I have noticed that already, my lord. All day they have been coming +and going." + +"Just so. And among them are men of note; many who have played an +important part in the politics of Europe. Now, sir; it is deemed +convenient, _for the cause of order_, that the movements of these men +should be known; and for this it is necessary that a watch be kept upon +them. From Sir Robert Cottrell's recommendation, we've chosen you for +this delicate duty. If I mistake not, sir, you will know how to perform +it?" + +"My lord, I make promise to do my best." + +"So much then for the general purpose. And now to enter a little more +into details." + +Swinton resumed his listening attitude. + +"You will make yourself acquainted with the personal appearance of all +who enter the opposite house; endeavour to ascertain who they are; and +report on their goings and comings--taking note of the hour. For this +purpose you will require two assistants; whom I authorise you to engage. +One of them may appear to act as your servant; the other, appropriately +dressed, should visit you as an intimate acquaintance. If you could +find one who has access to the camp of the enemy, it would be of +infinite importance. There are some of these refugees in the habit of +visiting your neighbour, who may not be altogether his friends. You +understand me?" + +"I do, your lordship." + +"I see, Mr Swinton, you are the man we want. And now for a last word. +Though you are to take note of the movements of Kossuth's guests, still +more must you keep your eye upon himself. Should he go out, either you +or your friend must follow and find where he goes to. Take a cab if +necessary; and on any such occasion report _directly and without losing +time_. Make your report to my private secretary; who will always be +found at my residence in Park Lane. This will be sufficient for the +present. When you are in need of funds, let my secretary know. He has +orders to attend to the supply department. Any further instructions I +shall communicate to you myself. I may have to come here frequently; so +you had better instruct your servant about admitting me." + +"My lord, would you accept of a key? Excuse me for asking. It would +save your lordship from the disagreeable necessity of waiting outside +the gate, and perhaps being recognised by the passers, or those +opposite?" + +Without showing it, Swinton's patron was charmed with the proposal. The +key might in time become useful, for other purposes than to escape +recognition by either "the passers or those opposite." He signified his +consent to accept it. + +"I see you are clever, Mr Swinton," he said, with a peculiar, almost +sardonic smile. "As you say, a key will be convenient. And now, I need +scarce point out to you the necessity of discretion in all that you do. +I perceive that your windows are furnished with movable Venetians. That +is well, and will be suitable to your purpose. Fortunately your own +personal appearance corresponds very well to such an establishment as +this--a very snug affair it is--and your good lady--ah! by the way, we +are treating her very impolitely. I owe her an apology for keeping you +so long away from her. I hope you will make it for me, Mr Swinton. +Tell her that I have detained you on business of importance." + +"My lord, she will not believe it, unless I tell her whom I've had the +honour of receiving. May I take that liberty?" + +"Oh! certainly--certainly. Were it not for the hour, I should have +asked you to introduce me. Of course, it is too late to intrude upon a +lady." + +"There's no hour too late for an introduction to your lordship. I know +the poor child would be delighted." + +"Well, Mr Swinton, if it's not interfering with your domestic +arrangements, I, too, would be delighted. All hours are alike to me." + +"My wife is upstairs. May I ask her to come down?" + +"Nay, Mr Swinton; may I ask you to bring her down?" + +"Such condescension, my lord! It is a pleasure to obey you." + +With this speech, half aside, Swinton stepped out of the room; and +commenced ascending the stairway. + +He was not gone long. Fan was found upon the first landing, ready to +receive the summons. + +He returned almost too soon for his sexagenarian visitor, who had placed +himself in front of the mantel mirror, and was endeavouring with dyed +locks to conceal the bald spot upon his crown! + +The introduction was followed by Mr Swinton's guest forgetting all +about the lateness of the hour, and resuming his seat. Then succeeded a +triangular conversation, obsequious on two rides, slightly patronising +on the third; becoming less so, as the speeches were continued; and then +there was an invitation extended to the noble guest to accept of some +refreshment, on the plea of his long detention--a courtesy he did not +decline. + +And the Abigail was despatched to the nearest confectionery, and brought +back sausage rolls and sandwiches, with a Melton Mowbray pie; and these +were placed upon the table, alongside a decanter of sherry; of which his +lordship partook with as much amiable freedom as if he had been a jolly +guardsman! + +And it ended in his becoming still more amiable; and talking to Swinton +as to an old bosom friend; and squeezing the hand of Swinton's wife, as +he stood in the doorway repeatedly bidding her "good-night"--a bit of +by-play that should have made Swinton jealous, had the hall-lamp been +burning bright enough for him to see. He only guessed it, and was not +jealous! + +"She's a delicious creature, that!" soliloquised the titled _roue_, as +he proceeded to the Park Road, where a carriage, drawn up under the +shadow of the trees, had been all the while waiting for him. "And a +trump to boot! I can tell that by the touch of her taper fingers." + +"She's a trump and a treasure!" was the almost simultaneous reflection +of Swinton, with the same woman in his thoughts--his own wife! + +He made it, after closing the door upon his departing guest; and then, +as he sat gulping another glass of sherry, and smoking another cigar, he +repeated it with the continuation: + +"Yes; Fan's the correct card to play. What a stupid I've been not to +think of this before! Hang it! it's not yet too late. I've still got +hold of the hand; and this night, if I'm not mistaken, there's a game +begun that'll give me all I want in this world--that's Julia Girdwood." + +The serious tone in which the last three words were spoken told he had +not yet resigned his aspirations after the American heiress. + + + +CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT. + +IMPROVED PROSPECTS. + +To those who take no note of social distinctions, Swinton's scheme in +relation to Julia Girdwood will appear grotesque. Not so much on +account of its atrocity, but from the chances of its success seeming so +problematical. + +Could he have got the girl to love him, it would have changed the aspect +of affairs. Love breaks down all barriers; and to a mind constituted as +hers, no obstacle could have intervened--not even the idea of danger. + +She did not love him; but he did not know it. A guardsman, and handsome +to boot, he had been accustomed to facile conquests. In his own way of +thinking, the time had not arrived when these should be deemed +difficult. + +He was no longer in the Guards; but he was still young, and he knew he +was still handsome English dames thought him so. Strange if a Yankee +girl should have a different opinion! + +This was the argument on his side; and, trusting to his attractions, he +still fancied himself pretty sure of being able to make a conquest of +the American--even to making her the victim of an illegal marriage. + +And if he should succeed in his bigamous scheme, what then? What use +would she be as a wife, unless her mother should keep that promise he +had overheard: to endow her with the moiety of her own life-interest in +the estate of the deceased storekeeper? + +To many Julia Girdwood against her mother's wish would be a simple +absurdity. He did not dread the danger that might accrue from the +crime. He did not think of it. But to become son-in-law to a woman, +whose daughter might remain penniless as long as she herself lived, +would be a poor speculation. A woman, too, who talked of living another +half-century! The jest was not without significance; and Swinton +thought so. + +He felt confident that he could dupe the daughter into marrying him; but +to get that half-million out of the mother, he must stand before the +altar as a _lord_! + +These were Mrs Girdwood's original conditions. He knew she still +adhered to them. If fulfilled, she would still consent; but not +otherwise. + +To go on, then, the sham _incognito_ must be continued--the deception +kept up. + +But how? + +This was the point that puzzled him. + +The impersonation had become difficult. In Newport and New York it had +been easy; in Paris still easier; but he was at length in London, where +such a cheat would be in danger of being detected. + +Moreover, in his last interview with the ladies, he had been sensible of +some change in their behaviour toward him--an absence of the early +congeniality. It was shown chiefly by Mrs Girdwood herself! Her warm +friendship suddenly conceived at Newport, continued in New York, and +afterwards renewed in Paris, appeared to have as suddenly grown cool. + +What could be the cause? Had she heard anything to his discredit? +Could she have discovered the counterfeit? Or was she only suspicious +of it? + +Only the last question troubled him. He did not think he had been found +out. He had played his part skilfully, having given no clue to his +concealed title. And he had given good reasons for his care in +concealing it. + +He admitted to himself that she had cause for being suspicious. She had +extended hospitality to him in America. He had not returned it in +Europe, for reasons well-known. + +True, he had only met his American acquaintances in Paris; but even +there, an English lord should have shown himself more liberal; and she +might have felt piqued at his parsimony. + +For similar reasons he had not yet called upon them in London. + +On the contrary, since his return, he had purposely kept out of their +way. + +In England he was in his own country; and why should he be living under +an assumed name? If a lord, why under straitened circumstances? In +Mrs Girdwood's eyes these would be suspicious circumstances. + +The last might be explained--by the fact of their being poor lords, +though not many. Not many, who do not find the means to dress well, and +dine sumptuously--to keep a handsome house, if they feel disposed. + +Since his return from the States, Swinton could do none of these things. +How, then, was he to pass himself off for a lord--even one of the +poorest? + +He had almost despaired of being able to continue the counterfeit; when +the patronage of a lord, real and powerful, inspired him with fresh +hope. Through it his prospects had become entirely changed. It had put +money in his purse, and promised more. What was equally encouraging, he +could now, in real truth, claim being employed in a diplomatic capacity. +True, it was but as a _spy_; but this is an essential part of the +diplomatic service! + +There was his apparent intimacy with a distinguished diplomatic +character--a nobleman; there would be his constant visits to the grand +mansion in Park Lane--strange if with these appearances in his favour he +could not still contrive to throw dust in the eyes of Dame Girdwood! + +Certainly his scheme was far from hopeless. By the new appointment a +long vista of advantages had been suddenly disclosed to him; and he now +set himself to devise the best plan for improving them. + +Fan was called into his counsels; for the wife was still willing. Less +than ever did she care for him, or what he might do. She, too, had +become conscious of brighter prospects; and might hope, at no distant +day, to appear once more in Rotten Row. + +If, otherwise, she had a poor opinion of her husband, she did not +despise his talent for intrigue. There was proof of it in their changed +circumstances. And though she well knew the source from which their +sudden prosperity had sprung, she knew, also, the advantage, to a woman +of her propensities, in being a _wife_. "United we stand, divided we +fall," may have been the thought in her mind; but, whether it was or +not, she was still ready to assist her husband in accomplishing a second +marriage! + +With the certificate of the first, carefully stowed away in a secret +drawer of her dressing-case, she had nothing to fear, beyond the chance +of a problematical exposure. + +She did not fear this, so long as there was a prospect of that splendid +plunder, in which she would be a sharer. Dick had promised to be "true +as steel," and she had reciprocated the promise. + +With a box of cigars, and a decanter of sherry between them, a programme +was traced out for the further prosecution of the scheme. + + + +CHAPTER FIFTY NINE. + +A DISTINGUISHED DINNER-PARTY. + +It was a chill November night; but there was no coldness inside the +South Bank Cottage--the one occupied by Mr Richard Swinton. + +There was company in it. + +There had been a dinner-party, of nine covers. The dinner was eaten; +and the diners had returned to the drawing-room. + +The odd number of nine precluded an exact pairing of the sexes. The +ladies out-counted the gentlemen, by five to four. + +Four of them are already known to the reader. They were Mrs Swinton, +Mrs Girdwood, her daughter and niece. The fifth was a stranger, not +only to the reader, but to Mrs Girdwood and her girls. + +Three of the gentlemen were the host himself Mr Louis Lucas, and his +friend Mr Spiller. The fourth, like the odd lady, was a stranger. + +He did not appear strange to Mrs Swinton; who during the dinner had +treated him with remarkable familiarity, calling him her "dear Gustave"; +while he in turn let the company know she was his _wife_! + +He spoke with a French accent, and by Swinton was styled "the count." + +The strange lady appeared to know him--also in a familiar way. She was +the Honourable Miss Courtney--Geraldine Courtney. + +With such a high-sounding name, she could not look other than +aristocratic. + +She was pretty as well, and accomplished; with just that dash of +freedom, in speech and in manner, which distinguishes the lady of _haut +ton_ from the wife or daughter of a "tradesman." + +In Miss Courtney it was carried to a slight excess. So a prudish person +might have thought. + +But Mrs Girdwood was not prudish--least of all, in the presence of such +people. She was delighted with the Honourable Geraldine; and wondered +not at her wild way--only at her amiable condescensions! + +She was charmed also with the count, and his beautiful countess. + +His lordship had done the correct thing at last--by introducing her to +such company. Though still passing under the assumed name of Swinton-- +even among his own friends--the invitation to that dinner-party disarmed +her of suspicion. The dinner itself still more; and she no longer +sought to penetrate the mystery of his _incognito_. + +Besides, he had repeated the plea that hitherto satisfied her. Still +was it diplomacy! + +Even Julia was less distant with him. A house handsomely furnished; a +table profusely spread; titled guests around it; well-dressed servants +in waiting--all this proved that Mr Swinton was somebody. And it was +only his temporary town residence, taken for a time and a purpose--still +diplomacy. She had not yet seen his splendid place in the country, to +which he had given hints of an invitation. + +Proud republican as Julia Girdwood was, she was still but the child of a +_parvenu_. + +And there was something in the surroundings to affect her fancy. She +saw this man, Mr Swinton, whom she had hitherto treated slightingly, +now in the midst of his own friends, behaving handsomely, and treated +with respect. Such friends, too! all bearing titles--all accomplished-- +two of them beautiful women, who appeared not only intimate with, but +complaisant toward him! + +Moreover, no one could fail to see that he was handsome. He had never +looked better, in her eyes, than on that evening. It was a situation +not only to stir curiosity, but suggest thoughts of rivalry. + +And perhaps Julia Girdwood had them. It was the first time she had +figured in the company of titled aristocracy. It would not be strange +if her fancy was affected in such presence. Higher pride than hers has +succumbed to its influence. + +She was not the only one of her party who gave way to the wayward +influences of the hour, and the seductions of their charming host Mr +Lucas, inspired by repeated draughts of sherry and champagne, forgot his +past antipathies, and of course burned to embrace him. Mr Lucas's +shadow, Spiller, was willing to do the same! + +Perhaps the only one of Mrs Girdwood's set who preserved independence, +was the daughter of the Poughkeepsie shopkeeper. In her quiet, +unpretending way, Cornelia showed dignity for superior to that of her +own friends, or even the grand people to whom they had been presented. + +But even she had no suspicion of the shams that surrounded her. No more +than her aunt Girdwood did she dream that Mr Swinton was Mr Swinton; +that the countess was his wife; that the count was an impostor--like +Swinton himself playing a part; and that the Honourable Geraldine was a +lady of Mrs Swinton's acquaintance, alike accomplished and equally +well-known in the circles of Saint John's Wood, under the less +aristocratic cognomen of "Kate the coper." Belonging to the sisterhood +of "pretty horse-breakers," she had earned this sobriquet by exhibiting +superior skill in disposing of her cast steeds! + +Utterly ignorant of the game that was being played, as of the players, +Mrs Girdwood spent the evening in a state approaching to supreme +delight Mr Swinton, ever by her side, took the utmost pains to cancel +the debt of hospitality long due; and he succeeded in cancelling it. + +If she could have had any suspicion of his dishonesty, it would have +been dispelled by an incident that occurred during the course of the +evening. + +As it was an episode interrupting the entertainment, we shall be excused +for describing it. + +The guests in the drawing-room were taking tea and coffee, carried round +to them by the savants--a staff hired from a fashionable confectionery-- +when the gate-bell jingled under the touch of a hand that appeared used +to the pulling of it. + +"I can tell that ring," said Swinton, speaking loud enough for his +guests to hear him. "I'll lay a wager it's Lord --." + +"Lord --!" + +The name was that of a distinguished nobleman--more distinguished still +as a great statesman! Swinton's proclaiming it caused his company a +thrill--the strangers looking incredulous. + +They had scarce time to question him before a servant, entering the +room, communicated something in a whisper. + +"His lordship is it?" said the master, in a muttered tone, just loud +enough to reach the ear of Mrs Girdwood. "Show him into the front +parlour. Say I shall be down in a second. Ladies and gentlemen?" he +continued, turning to his guests, "will yaw excuse me for one moment-- +only a moment? I have a visitor who cannot well be denied." + +They excused him, of course; and for a time he was gone out of the room. + +And of course his guests were curious to know who was the visitor, who +"could not well be denied." + +On his return they questioned him; the "countess," with an imperative +earnestness that called for an answer. + +"Well, ladies and gentlemen," said their amiable entertainer, "if yaw +insist upon knowing who has been making this vewiy ill-timed call upon +me, I suppose I must satisfy yaw kewyosity. I was wight in my +conjectyaw. It was Lord --. His lawdship simply dwopped in upon a +matter of diplomatic business." + +"Oh! it was Lord --!" exclaimed the Honourable Geraldine. + +"Why didn't you ask him in here? He's a dear old fellow, as I know; and +I'm sure he would have come. Mr Swinton! I'm very angry with you?" + +"'Pon honaw! Miss Courtney, I'm vewy sorry; I didn't think of it, else +I should have been most happy." + +"He's gone, I suppose?" + +"Aw, yas. He went away as soon as he undawstood I had company." + +And this was true--all true. The nobleman in question had really been +in the front parlour, and had gone off on learning what was passing +upstairs in the drawing-room. + +He had parted, too, with a feeling of disappointment, almost chagrin; +though it was not diplomatic business to which the villa was indebted +for his visit. + +However fruitless his calling had proved to him, it was not without +advantage to Mr Swinton. + +"The man who receives midnight visits from a lord, and that lord a +distinguished statesman, must either be a lord himself, _or a +somebody_!" + +This was said in soliloquy by the retail storekeeper's widow, as that +night she stretched herself upon one of the luxurious couches of the +"Clarendon." + +About the same time, her daughter gave way to a somewhat similar +reflection. + + + +CHAPTER SIXTY. + +A PARTING PRESENT. + +At parting, there had been no "scene" between Sir George Vernon and his +seemingly ungrateful guest. + +Nor was the interview a stormy one, as they stood face to face under the +shadow of the _deodara_. + +Sir George's daughter had retired from the spot, her young heart +throbbing with pain; while Maynard, deeply humiliated, made no attempt +to justify himself. + +Had there been light under the tree, Sir George would have seen before +him the face of a man that expressed the very type of submission. + +For some seconds, there was a profound and painful silence. + +It was broken by the baronet: + +"After this, sir, I presume it is not necessary for me to point out the +course you should pursue? There is only one." + +"I am aware of it, Sir George." + +"Nor is it necessary to say, that I wish to avoid scandal?" + +Maynard made no reply; though, unseen, he nodded assent to the +proposition. + +"You can retire at your leisure, sir; but in ten minutes my carriage +will be ready to take you and your luggage to the station." + +It was terrible to be thus talked to; and but for the scandal Sir George +had alluded to, Maynard would have replied to it by refusing the +proffered service. + +But he felt himself in a dilemma. The railway station was full four +miles distant. + +A fly might be had there; but not without some one going to fetch it. +For this he must be indebted to his host. He was in a dress suit, and +could not well walk, without courting the notice to be shunned. +Besides, there would be his luggage to come after him. + +There was no alternative but to accept the obligation. + +He did so, by saying-- + +"In ten minutes, Sir George, I shall be ready. I make no apology for +what has passed. I only hope the time may come, when you will look less +severely on my conduct." + +"Not likely," was the dry response of the baronet, and with these words +the two parted: Sir George going back to his guests in the drawing-room, +Maynard making his way to the apartment that contained his +_impedimenta_. + +The packing of his portmanteau did not occupy him half the ten minutes' +time. There was no need to change his dancing-dress. His surtout would +sufficiently conceal it. + +The bell brought a male domestic; who, shouldering the "trap," carried +it downstairs--though not without wondering why the gent should be +taking his departure, at that absurd hour, just as the enjoyment in the +drawing-room had reached its height, and a splendid supper was being +spread upon the tables! + +Maynard having given a last look around the room, to assure himself that +nothing had been overlooked, was about preparing to follow the bearer of +his portmanteau, when another _attache_ of the establishment barred his +passage on the landing of the stair. + +It was also a domestic, but of different kind, sex, and colour. + +It was Sabina, of Badian birth. + +"Hush! Mass Maynard," she said, placing her finger on her lips to +impress the necessity of silence. "Doan you 'peak above de breff, an' I +tell you someting dat you like hear." + +"What is it?" Maynard asked, mechanically. + +"Dat Missy Blanche lub you dearly--wit all de lub ob her young heart. +She Sabby tell so--yesserday--dis day--more'n a dozen times, oba an' +oba. So dar am no need you go into despair." + +"Is that all you have to say?" asked he, though without any asperity of +tone. + +It would have been strange if such talk had not given him pleasure, +despite the little information conveyed by it. + +"All Sabby hab say; but not all she got do." + +"What have you to do?" demanded Maynard, in an anxious undertone. + +"You gib dis," was the reply of the mulatto, as, with the adroitness +peculiar to her race and sex, she slipped something white into the +pocket of his surtout. + +The carriage wheels were heard outside the hall-door, gritting upon the +gravel. + +Without danger of being observed, the departing guest could not stay in +such company any longer; and passing a half-sovereign into Sabby's hand, +he silently descended the stair, and as silently took seat in the +carriage. + +The bearer of the portmanteau, as he shut to the carriage door, could +not help still wondering at such an ill-timed departure. + +"Not a bad sort of gent, anyhow," was his reflection, as he turned back +under the hall-lamp to examine the half-sovereign that had been slipped +into his palm. + +And while he was doing this, the gent in question was engaged in a far +more interesting scrutiny. Long before the carriage had passed out of +the park--even while it was yet winding round the "sweep"--its occupant +had plunged his hand into the pocket of his surtout and drawn out the +paper that had been there so surreptitiously deposited. + +It was but a tiny slip--a half-sheet torn from its crested counterfoil. +And the writing upon it was in pencil; only a few words, as if scrawled +in trembling haste! + +The light of the wax-candles, reflected from the silvered lamps, +rendered the reading easy; and with a heart surcharged with supreme joy, +he read:-- + +"Papa is very angry; and I know he will never sanction my seeing you +again. I am sad to think we may meet no more; and that you will forget +me. I shall never forget you--never!" + +"Nor _I you_, Blanche Vernon," was the reflection of Maynard, as he +refolded the slip of paper, and thrust it back into the pocket of his +coat. + +He took it out, and re-read it before reaching the railway station; and +once again, by the light of a suspended lamp, as he sat solitary in a +carriage of the night mail train, up for the metropolis. + +Then folding it more carefully, he slipped it into his card-case, to be +placed in a pocket nearer his heart; if not the first, the sweetest +_guage d'amour_ he had ever received in his life! + + + +CHAPTER SIXTY ONE. + +AN INFORMER. + +The disappearance of a dancing guest from the midst of three score +others is a thing not likely to be noticed. And if noticed, needing no +explanation--in English "best society." + +There the defection may occur from a quiet dinner-party--even in a +country house, where arrivals and departures are more rare than in the +grand _routs_ of the town. + +True politeness has long since discarded that insufferable ceremony of +general leave-taking, with its stiff bows and stiffer handshakings. +Sufficient to salute your host--more particularly your hostess--and bow +good-bye to any of the olive branches that may be met, as you elbow your +way out of the drawing-room. + +This was the rule holding good under the roof of Sir George Vernon; and +the abrupt departure of Captain Maynard would have escaped comment, but +for one or two circumstances of a peculiar nature. + +He was a stranger to Sir George's company, with romantic, if not +mysterious, antecedents; while his literary laurels freshly gained, and +still green upon his brow, had attracted attention even in that high +circle. + +But what was deemed undoubtedly peculiar was the mode in which he had +made his departure. He had been seen dancing with Sir George's +daughter, and afterward stepping outside with her--through the +conservatory, and into the grounds. He had not again returned. + +Some of the dancers who chanced to be cooling themselves by the bottom +of the stair, had seen his portmanteau taken out, himself following +shortly after; while the sound of carriage wheels upon the sweep told of +his having gone off for good! + +There was not much in all this. He had probably taken leave of his host +outside--in a correct ceremonial manner. + +But no one had seen him do so; and, as he had been for some time staying +at the house, the departure looked somewhat brusque. For certain it was +strangely timed. + +Still it might not have been remarked upon, but for another +circumstance: that, after he was gone, the baronet's daughter appeared +no more among the dancers. + +She had not been seen since she had stood up in the _valse_ where she +and her partner had been so closely scrutinised! + +She was but a young thing. The spin may have affected her to giddiness; +and she had retired to rest awhile. + +This was the reasoning of those who chanced to think of it. + +They were not many. The charmers in wide skirts had enough to do +thinking of themselves; the dowagers had betaken themselves to quiet +whist in the antechambers: and the absence of Blanche Vernon brought no +blight upon the general enjoyment. + +But the absence of her father did--that is, his absence of mind. During +the rest of the evening there was a strangeness in Sir George's manner +noticed by many of his guests; an abstraction, palpably, almost +painfully observable. Even his good breeding was not proof against the +blow he had sustained! + +Despite his efforts to conceal it, his more intimate acquaintances could +see that something had gone astray. + +Its effect was to put a damper on the night's hilarity; and perhaps +earlier than would have otherwise happened were the impatient coachmen +outside released from their chill waiting upon the sweep. + +And earlier, also, did the guests staying at the house retire to their +separate sleeping apartments. + +Sir George did not go direct to his; but first to his library. + +He went not alone. Frank Scudamore accompanied him. + +He did so, at the request of his uncle, after the others had said +good-night. + +The object of this late interview between Sir George and his nephew is +made known, by the conversation that occurred between them. + +"Frank," began the baronet, "I desire you to be frank with me." + +Sir George said this, without intending a pun. He was in no mood for +playing upon words. + +"About what, uncle?" asked Scudamore, looking a little surprised. + +"About all you've seen between Blanche and this--fellow." + +The "fellow" was pronounced with contemptuous emphasis--almost in a +hiss. + +"All I've seen?" + +"All you've seen, and all you've heard." + +"What I've seen and heard I have told you. That is, up to this night-- +up to an hour ago." + +"An hour ago! Do you mean what occurred under the tree?" + +"No uncle, not that I've seen something since." + +"Since! Captain Maynard went immediately away?" + +"He did. But not without taking a certain thing along with him he ought +not to have taken." + +"Taken a certain thing along with him! What do you mean, nephew?" + +"That your honoured guest carried out of your house a piece of paper +upon which something had been written." + +"By whom?" + +"By my cousin Blanche." + +"When, and where?" + +"Well, I suppose while he was getting ready to go; and as to the where, +I presume it was done by Blanche in her bedroom. She went there after-- +what you saw." + +Sir George listened to this information with as much coolness as he +could command. Still, there was a twitching of the facial muscles, and +a pallor overspreading his cheeks, his nephew could not fail to notice. + +"Proceed, Frank!" he said, in a faltering voice, "go on, and tell me +all. How did you become acquainted with this?" + +"By the merest accident," pursued the willing informant. "I was outside +the drawing-room, resting between two dances. It was just at the time +Captain Maynard was going off. From where I was standing, I could see +up the stairway to the top landing. He was there talking to Sabina, and +as it appeared to me, in a very confidential manner. I saw him slip +something into her hand--a piece of money, I suppose--just after she had +dropped something white into the pocket of his overcoat. I could tell +it was paper--folded in the shape of a note." + +"Are you sure it was that?" + +"Quite sure, uncle. I had no doubt of it at the time; and said to +myself, `It's a note that's been written by my cousin, who has sent +Sabina to give it to him.' I'd have stopped him on the stair and made +him give it up again, but for raising a row in the house. You know that +would never have done." + +Sir George did not hear the boasting remark. He was not listening to it +His soul was too painfully absorbed--reflecting upon this strange doing +of his daughter. + +"Poor child!" muttered he in sad soliloquy. "Poor innocent child! And +this, after all my care, my ever-zealous guardianship, my far more than +ordinary solicitude. Oh God! to think I've taken a serpent into my +house, who should thus turn and sting me!" + +The baronet's feelings forbade farther conversation; and Scudamore was +dismissed to his bed. + + + +CHAPTER SIXTY TWO. + +UNSOCIABLE FELLOW-TRAVELLERS. + +The train by which Maynard travelled made stop at the Sydenham Station, +to connect with the Crystal Palace. + +The stoppage failed to arouse him from the reverie into which he had +fallen--painful after what had passed. + +He was only made aware of it on hearing voices outside the carriage, and +only because some of these seemed familiar. + +On looking out, he saw upon the platform a party of ladies and +gentlemen. + +The place would account for their being there at so late an hour-- +excursionists to the Crystal Palace--but still more, a certain +volubility of speech, suggesting the idea of their having dined at the +Sydenham Hotel. + +They were moving along the platform, in search of a first-class carriage +for London. + +As there were six of them, an empty one would be required--the London +and Brighton line being narrow gauge. + +There was no such carriage, and therefore no chance of them getting +seated together. The dining party would have to divide. + +"What a baw!" exclaimed the gentleman who appeared to act as the leader, +"a dooced baw! But I suppose there's no help for it. Aw--heaw is a +cawage with only one in it?" + +The speaker had arrived in front of that in which Maynard sate--_solus_, +and in a corner. + +"Seats for five of us," pursued he. "We'd better take this, ladies. +One of us fellaws must stow elsewhere." + +The ladies assenting, he opened the door, and stood holding the handle. + +The three ladies--there were three of them--entered first. + +It became a question which of the three "fellaws" was to be separated +from such pleasant travelling-companions--two of them being young and +pretty. + +"I'll go," volunteered he who appeared the youngest and least +consequential of the trio. + +The proposal was eagerly accepted by the other two--especially him who +held the handle of the door. + +By courtesy he was the last to take a seat. He had entered the +carriage, and was about doing so; when all at once a thought, or +something else, seemed to strike him--causing him to change his design. + +"Aw, ladies!" he said, "I hope yaw will pardon me for leaving yaw to go +into the smoking cawage. I'm dying for a cigaw." + +Perhaps the ladies would have said, "Smoke where you are;" but there was +a stranger to be consulted, and they only said: + +"Oh, certainly, sir." + +If any of them intended an additional observation, before it could have +been made he was gone. + +He had shot suddenly out upon the platform, as if something else than +smoking was in his mind! + +They thought it strange--even a little impolite. + +"Mr Swinton's an inveterate smoker," said the oldest of the three +ladies, by way of apologising for him. + +The remark was addressed to the gentleman, who had now sole charge of +them. + +"Yes; I see he is," replied the latter, in a tone that sounded slightly +ironical. + +He had been scanning the solitary passenger, in cap and surtout, who +sate silent in the corner. + +Despite the dim light, he had recognised him; and felt sure that Swinton +had done the same. + +His glance guided that of the ladies; all of whom had previous +acquaintance with their fellow-passenger. One of the three started on +discovering who it was. + +For all this there was no speech--not even a nod of recognition. Only a +movement of surprise, followed by embarrassment. + +Luckily the lamp was of oil, making it difficult to read the expression +on their faces. + +So thought Julia Girdwood; and so too her mother. + +Cornelia cared not. She had no shame to conceal. + +But Louis Lucas liked the obscurity; for it was he who was in charge. + +He had dropped down upon the seat, opposite to the gentleman who had +shot his Newfoundland dog! + +It was not a pleasant place; and he instantly changed to the stall that +should have been occupied by Mr Swinton. + +He did this upon pretence of sitting nearer to Mrs Girdwood. + +And thus Maynard was left without a _vis-a-vis_. + +His thoughts also were strange. How could they be otherwise? Beside +him, with shoulders almost touching, sate the woman he had once loved; +or, at all events, passionately admired. + +It was the passion of a day. It had passed; and was now cold and dead. +There was a time when the touch of that rounded arm would have sent the +blood in hot current through his veins. Now its chafing against his, as +they came together on the cushion, produced no more feeling than if it +had been a fragment from the chisel of Praxiteles! + +Did she feel the same? + +He could not tell; nor cared he to know. + +If he had a thought about her thoughts, it was one of simple gratitude. +He remembered his own imaginings, as to who had sent the star flag to +protect him, confirmed by what Blanche Vernon had let drop in that +conversation in the covers. + +And this alone influenced him to shape, in his own mind, the question, +"Should I speak to her?" + +His thoughts charged back to all that had passed between them--to her +cold parting on the cliff where he had rescued her from drowning; to her +almost disdainful dismissal of him in the Newport ball-room. But he +remembered also her last speech as she passed him, going out at the +ball-room door; and her last glance given him from the balcony! + +Both words and look, once more rising into recollection, caused him to +repeat the mental interrogatory, "Should I speak to her?" + +Ten times there was a speech upon his tongue; and as often was it +restrained. + +There was time for that and more; enough to have admitted of an extended +dialogue. Though the mail train, making forty miles an hour, should +reach London Bridge in fifteen minutes, it seemed as though it would +never arrive at the station! + +It did so at length without a word having been exchanged between Captain +Maynard and any of his _quondam_ acquaintances! They all seemed +relieved, as the platform appearing alongside gave them a chance of +escaping from his company! + +Julia may have been an exception. She was the last of her party to get +out of the carriage, Maynard on the off side, of course, still staying. + +She appeared to linger, as with a hope of still being spoken to. It was +upon her tongue to say the word "cruel"; but a proud thought restrained +her; and she sprang quickly out of the carriage to spare herself the +humiliation! + +Equally near speaking was Maynard. He too was restrained by a thought-- +proud, but not cruel. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +He looked along the platform, and watched them as they moved away. He +saw them joined by two gentlemen--one who approached stealthily, as if +not wishing to be seen. + +He knew that the skulker was Swinton; and why he desired to avoid +observation. + +Maynard no more cared for the movements of this man--no more envied him +either their confidence or company. His only reflection was: + +"Strange that in every unpleasant passage of my life this same party +should trump up--at Newport; in Paris; and now near London, in the midst +of a grief greater than all!" + +And he continued to reflect upon this coincidence, till the railway +porter had pushed him and his portmanteau into the interior of a cab. + +The official not understanding the cause of his abstraction, gave him no +credit for it. + +By the sharp slamming of the back-door he was reminded of a remissness: +he had neglected the _douceur_! + + + +CHAPTER SIXTY THREE. + +"IT IS SWEET--SO SWEET." + +Transported in his cab, Captain Maynard was set down safely at his +lodgings in the proximity of Portman Square. + +A latch-key let him in, without causing disturbance to his landlady. + +Though once more in his own rooms, with a couch that seemed to invite +him to slumber, he could not sleep. All night long he lay tossing upon +it, thinking of Blanche Vernon. + +The distraction, caused by his encounter with Julia Girdwood, had lasted +no longer than while this lady was by his side in the railway carriage. + +At the moment of her disappearance from the platform, back into his +thoughts came the baronet's daughter--back before his mental vision the +remembrance of her roseate cheeks and golden hair. + +The _contretemps_ had been disagreeable--a thing to be regretted. Yet, +thinking over it, he was not wretched; scarce unhappy. How could he be, +with those tender speeches still echoing in his ears--that piece of +paper in his possession, which once again he had taken out, and read +under the light of his own lamp? + +It was painful to think "papa would never sanction her seeing him +again." But this did not hinder him from having a hope. + +It was no more the mediaeval time; nor is England the country of +cloisters, where love, conscious of being returned, lays much stress on +the parental sanction. Still might such authority be an obstruction, +not to be thought lightly of; nor did Maynard so think of it. + +Between the proud baronet and himself, he had placed a barrier he might +never be able to remove--a social gulf that would separate them for +ever! + +Were there no means of bridging it? Could none be devised? + +For long hours these questions kept him awake; and he went to sleep +without finding answer to them. + +During the same hours was she, too, lying awake--thinking in the same +way. + +She had other thoughts, and among them fears. She had yet to face her +father! + +Returning, as she had done to her own room, she had not seen him since +the hour of her shame. + +But there was a morrow when she would have to meet him--perhaps be +called upon for a full confession. + +It might seem as if there was nothing more to be told. But the +necessity of having to comfort her father, and repeat what was already +known, would of itself be sufficiently painful. + +Besides, there was her after-action--in the surreptitious penning of +that little note. She had done it in haste, yielding to the instinct of +love, and while its frenzy was upon her. + +Now in the calm quiet of her chamber, when the spasmodic courage of +passion had departed, she felt doubtful of what she had done. + +It was less repentance of the act, than fear for the consequences. What +if her father should also learn that? If he should have a suspicion and +ask her? + +She knew she must confess. She was as yet too young, too guileless, to +think of subterfuge. She had just practised one; but it was altogether +different from the telling of an untruth. It was a falsehood even +prudery itself might deem pardonable. + +But her father would not, and she knew it. Angry at what he already +knew, it would add to his indignation--perhaps strengthen it to a storm. +How would she withstand it? + +She lay reflecting in fear. + +"Dear Sabby!" she said, "do you think he will suspect it?" + +The question was to the coloured attendant, who, having a tiny couch in +the adjoining ante-chamber, sate up late by her young mistress, to +converse with and comfort her. + +"'Speck what? And who am to hab de saspicion?" + +"About the note you gave him. My father, I mean." + +"You fadda! I gub you fadda no note. You wand'in in your 'peach, Missy +Blanche!" + +"No--no. I mean what you gave him--the piece of paper I entrusted you +with." + +"Oh, gub Massa Maynar! Ob coas I gub it him." + +"And you think no one saw you?" + +"Don't 'tink anyting 'bout it. Satin shoo nobody see dat Sabby, she +drop de leetle billydou right into de genlum's pocket--de outside coat +pocket--wha it went down slick out ob sight. Make you mind easy 'bout +dat, Missy Blanche. 'Twan't possible nob'dy ked a seed de tramfer. Dey +must ha hab de eyes ob an Argoos to dedect dat." + +The over-confidence with which Sabby spoke indicated a doubt. + +She had one; for she had noticed eyes upon her, though not those of an +Argus. They were in the head of Blanche's own cousin, Scudamore. + +The Creole suspected that he had seen her deliver the note, but took +care to keep her suspicions to herself. + +"No, missy, dear," she continued. "Doan trouble you head 'bout dat +'ere. Sabby gub de note all right. Darfore why shed you fadda hab +'spicion 'bout it?" + +"I don't know," answered the young girl. "And yet I cannot help having +fear." + +She lay for a while silent, as if reflecting. It was not altogether on +her fears. + +"What did he say to you, Sabby?" she asked at length. + +"You mean Massa Maynar?" + +"Yes." + +"He no say much. Da wan't no time." + +"Did he say anything?" + +"Wa, yes," drawled the Creole, nonplussed for an answer--"yes; he say, +`Sabby--you good Sabby; you tell Missy Blanche dat no matter what turn +up, I lub her for ebba and ebba mo.'" + +The Creole displayed the natural cunning of her race in conceiving this +passionate speech--their adroitness in giving tongue to it. + +It was a fiction, besides being commonplace. Notwithstanding this, it +gave gratification to her young mistress, as she intended it should. + +And it also brought sleep to her eyes. Soon after, resting her cheek +upon the pillow, whose white case was almost hidden under the loose +flood of her dishevelled hair, she sank into slumber. + +It was pleasant, if not profound. Sabby, sitting beside the bed, and +gazing upon the countenance of the sleeper, could tell by the play of +her features that her spirit was disturbed by a dream. + +It could not be a painful one. Otherwise would it have contradicted the +words, that in soft murmuring came forth from her unconscious lips: + +"_I now know that he loves me. Oh! it is sweet--so sweet_!" + +"Dat young gal am in lub to de berry tops ob her toe nails. Sleepin' or +wakin' she nebba get cured ob dat passion--nebba?" And with this sage +forecast, the Creole took up the bedroom candlestick, and silently +retired. + + + +CHAPTER SIXTY FOUR. + +A PAINFUL PROMISE. + +However light and sweet had been her slumber, Blanche Vernon awoke with +a heaviness on her mind. + +Before her, in her sleep, had been a face, on which she loved to look. +Awake, she could think only of one she had reason to fear--the face of +an angry father. + +The Creole _confidante_, while dressing her, observed her trepidation, +and endeavoured to inspire her with courage. In vain. + +The young girl trembled as she descended the stair in obedience to the +summons for breakfast. + +There was no need yet. She was safe in the company of her father's +guests, assembled around the table. The only one missing was Maynard. + +But no one made remark; and the gap had been more than filled up by some +fresh arrivals--among them a distinguished foreign nobleman. + +Thus screened, Blanche was beginning to gain confidence--to hope her +father would say nothing to her of what had passed. + +She was not such a child as to suppose he would forget it. What she +most feared was his calling her to a confession. + +And she dreaded this, from a knowledge of her own heart. She knew that +she could not, and would not, deceive him. + +The hour after breakfast was passed by her in feverish anxiety. She +watched the gentlemen as they went off, guns in hand, and dogs at heel. +She hoped to see her father go along with them. + +He did not; and she became excitedly anxious on being told that he +intended staying at home. + +Sabina had learnt this from his valet. + +It was almost a relief to her when the footman, approaching with a +salute, announced that Sir George wished to see her in the library. + +She turned pale at the summons. She could not help showing emotion, +even in the presence of the servant. + +But the exhibition went no further; and, recovering her proud air, she +followed him in the direction of the library. + +Her heart again sank as she entered. She saw that her father was alone, +and by his serious look she knew she was approaching an ordeal. + +It was a strange expression, that upon Sir George's face. She had +expected anger. It was not there. Nor even severity. The look more +resembled one of sadness. + +And there was the same in the tone of his voice as he spoke to her. + +"Take a seat, my child," were his first words, as he motioned her to a +sofa. + +She obeyed without making answer. + +She reached the sofa not an instant too soon. She felt so crushed in +spirit, she could not have kept upon her feet much longer. + +There was an irksome interlude before Sir George again opened his lips. +It seemed equally so to him. He was struggling with painful thoughts. + +"My daughter," said he, making an effort to still his emotion, "I need +not tell you for what reason I've sent for you?" + +He paused, though not for a reply. He did not expect one. It was only +to gain time for considering his next speech. + +The child sate silent, her body bent, her arms crossed over her knees, +her head drooping low between them. + +"I need not tell you, either," continued Sir George, "that I overheard +what passed between you and--" + +Another pause, as if he hated to pronounce the name. + +"This stranger, who has entered my house like a thief and a villain." + +In the drooping form before him there was just perceptible the slightest +start, followed by a tinge of red upon her cheek, and a shivering +throughout her frame. + +She said nothing, though it was plain the speech had given pain to her. + +"I know not what words may have been exchanged between you before. +Enough what I heard last night--enough to have broken my heart." + +"O father!" + +"'Tis true, my child! You know how carefully I've brought you up, how +tenderly I've cherished, how dearly I love you!" + +"O father!" + +"Yes, Blanche; you've been to me all your mother was; the only thing on +earth I had to care for, or who cared for me. And this to arise--to +blight all my fond expectations--I could not have believed it?" + +The young girl's bosom rose and fell in convulsive undulations, while +big tear-drops ran coursing down her cheeks, like a spring shower from +the blue canopy of heaven. + +"Father, forgive me! You will forgive me!" were the words to which she +gave utterance--not in continued speech, but interrupted by spasmodic +sobbing. + +"Tell me," said he, without responding to the passionate appeal. "There +is something I wish to know--something more. Did you speak to--to +Captain Maynard--last night, after--" + +"After when, papa?" + +"After parting from him outside, under the tree?" + +"No, father, I did not." + +"_But you wrote to him_?" + +The cheek of Blanche Vernon, again pale, suddenly became flushed to the +colour of carmine. It rose almost to the blue irides of her eyes, still +glistening with tears. + +Before, it had been a flush of indignation. Now it was the blush of +shame. What her father had seen and heard under the _deodara_, if a +sin, was not one for which she felt herself accountable. She had but +followed the promptings of her innocent heart, benighted by the noblest +passion of her nature. + +What she had done since was an action she could have controlled. She +was conscious of disobedience, and this was to be conscious of having +committed crime. She did not attempt to deny it. She only hesitated +through surprise at the question. + +"You wrote a note to him?" said her father, repeating it with a slight +alteration in the form. + +"I did." + +"I will not insist on knowing what was in it. From your candour, my +child, I'm sure you would tell me. I only ask you to promise that you +will not write to him again." + +"O father!" + +"That you will neither write to him, nor see him." + +"O father!" + +"On this I insist. But not with the authority I have over you. I have +no faith in that. I ask it of you as a favour. I ask it on my knees, +as your father, your dearest friend. Full well, my child, do I know +your honourable nature; and that if given, it will be kept. Promise me, +then, that you will neither write to nor see him again!" + +Once more the young girl sobbed convulsively. Her own father--her proud +father at her feet as an intercessor! No wonder she wept. + +And with the thought of for ever, and by one single word, cutting +herself off from all communication with the man she loved--the man who +had saved her life only to make it for ever after unhappy! + +No wonder she hesitated. No wonder that for a time her heart balanced +between duty and love--between parent and lover! + +"Dear, dear child!" pursued her father, in a tone of appealing +tenderness, "promise you will never know him more--without my +permission." + +Was it the agonised accents that moved her? Was it some vague hope, +drawn from the condition with which the appeal was concluded? + +Whether or no, she gave the promise, though to pronounce it was like +splitting her heart in twain. + + + +CHAPTER SIXTY FIVE. + +SPIES. + +The friendship between Kossuth and Captain Maynard was of no common +character. It had not sprung out of a mere chance acquaintance, but +from circumstances calculated to cause mutual respect and admiration. + +In Maynard, the illustrious Magyar saw a man like himself--devoted heart +and soul to the cause of liberty. + +True, he had as yet done little for it. But this did not negative his +intention, fixed and fearless. Kossuth knew he had ventured out into +the storm to shake a hand with, and draw a sword in, his defence. Too +late for the battle-field, he had since defended him with his pen; and +in the darkest hour of his exile, when others stood aloof. + +In Kossuth, Maynard recognised one of the "great ones of the world"-- +great not only in deeds and thoughts, but in all the Divine attributes +of humanity--in short, goodly great. + +It was in contemplating Kossuth's character, he first discovered the +falsity of the trite phrase, "Familiarity breeds contempt." Like most +proverbs, true only when applied to ordinary men and things. The +reverse with men truly great. + +To his own valet Kossuth would have been a hero. Much more was he one +in the eyes of his friend. + +The more Maynard knew of him, the more intimate their relationship +became, the less was he able to restrain his admiration. + +He had grown not only to admire, but love him; and would have done for +him any service consistent with honour. Kossuth was not the man to +require more. Maynard was witness to the pangs of his exile, and +sympathised with him as a son, or brother. He felt indignant at the +scurvy treatment he was receiving, and from a people boastful of its +hospitality! + +This indignation reached its highest, when on a certain day Kossuth, +standing in his studio, called his attention to a house on the opposite +side of the street, telling him it was inhabited by _spies_. + +"Spies! What kind of spies?" + +"Political, I suppose we may call them." + +"My dear Governor, you must be mistaken! We have no such thing in +England. It would not be permitted for a moment--that is, if known to +the English people." + +It was Maynard himself who was mistaken. He was but echoing the popular +boast and belief of the day. + +There _were_ political spies for all that; though it was the supposed +era of their first introduction, and the thing was not known. It became +so afterward; and was permitted by this people--silently acquiesced in +by John Bull, according to his custom when any such encroachment is +made--so long as it does not increase the tax upon his beer. + +"Whether known or not," answered the ex-Governor, "they are there. Step +forward to the window here, and I shall show you one of them." + +Maynard joined Kossuth at the window, where he had been for a time +standing. + +"You had better keep the curtain as a screen--if you don't wish to be +recognised." + +"For what should I care?" + +"Well, my dear captain, this is your own country. Your coming to my +house may compromise you. It will make you many powerful enemies." + +"As for that, Governor, the thing's done already. All know me as your +friend." + +"Only as my defender. All do not know you as a plotter and +conspirator--such as the _Times_ describes _me_." + +"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the elect of a German revolutionary committee. +"Much do I care about that! Such a conspirator. I'd be only too proud +of the tide. Where is this precious spy?" + +As Maynard put the question, he stepped on into the window, without +thinking of the curtain. + +"Look up to that casement in the second storey," directed Kossuth; "the +cottage nearly opposite--first window from the corner. Do you see +anything there?" + +"No; nothing but a Venetian blind." + +"But the laths are apart. Can you see nothing behind them? I do +distinctly. The scoundrels are not cunning. They forget there's a back +light beyond, which enables me to take note of their movements." + +"Ah!" said Maynard, still gazing. "Now I see. I can make out the +figure of a man seated or standing in the window." + +"Yes; and there he is seated or standing all day; he or another. They +appear to take it in turns. At night they descend to the street. Don't +look any longer! He is watching us now; and it won't do to let him know +that he's suspected. I have my reasons for appearing ignorant of this +espionage." + +Maynard, having put on a careless look, was about drawing back, when a +hansom cab drove up to the gate of the house opposite, discharging a +gentleman, who, furnished with a gate-key, entered without ringing the +bell. + +"That," said Kossuth, "is the chief spy, who appears to employ a +considerable staff--among them a number of elegant ladies. My poor +concerns must cost your government a good sum." + +Maynard was not attending to the remark. His thoughts, as well as eyes, +were still occupied with the gentleman who had got out of the cab; and +who, before disappearing behind the lilacs and laurels, was recognised +by him as his old antagonist, Swinton! Captain Maynard did that he had +before refused, and suddenly. He concealed himself behind the window +curtain! Kossuth observing it, inquired why? + +"I chance to know the man," was Maynard's answer. "Pardon me, Governor, +for having doubted your word! I can believe _now_ what you've told me. +Spies! Oh! if the English people knew this! They would not stand it!" + +"Dear friend! don't go into rhapsodies! They will stand it." + +"But I won't!" cried Maynard, in a frenzy of indignation. "If I can't +reach the head of this fiendish conspiracy, I'll punish the tool thus +employed. Tell me, Governor, how long since these foul birds have built +their nest over there?" + +"They came about a week ago. The house was occupied by a bank clerk--a +Scotchman, I believe--who seemed to turn out very suddenly. They +entered upon the same day." + +"A week," said Maynard, reflecting. "That's well. _He_ cannot have +seen me. It's ten days since I was here--and--and--" + +"What are you thinking of, my dear captain?" asked Kossuth, seeing that +his friend was engaged in deep cogitation. + +"Of a _revanche_--a revenge, if you prefer having it in our vernacular." + +"Against whom?" + +"That scoundrel of a spy--the chief one. I know him of old. I've long +owed him a score on my own account; and I am now doubly in his debt on +yours, and that of my country--disgraced by this infamy!" + +"And how would you act?" + +Maynard did not make immediate answer. He was still reflecting. + +"Governor!" he said, after a time, "you've told me that your guests are +followed by one or other of these fellows?" + +"Always followed; on foot if they be walking; in a cab if riding. It is +a hansom cab that follows them--the same you saw just now. It is gone; +but only to the corner, where it is kept continually on the stand--its +driver having instructions to obey a signal." + +"What sort of a signal?" + +"It is made by the sounding of a shrill whistle--a dog-call." + +"And who rides in the hansom?" + +"One or other of the two fellows you have seen. In the day time it is +the one who occupies the blinded window; at night the duty is usually +performed by the gentleman just returned--your old acquaintance, as you +say." + +"This will do!" said Maynard, in soliloquy. + +Then, turning to Kossuth, he inquired: + +"Governor! have you any objection to my remaining your guest till the +sun goes down, and a little after?" + +"My dear captain! Why do you ask the question? You know how glad I +shall be of your company." + +"Another question. Do you chance to have in your house such a thing as +a horsewhip?" + +"My adjutant, Ihasz, has, I believe. He is devoted to hunting." + +"Still another question. Is there among Madam's wardrobe half a yard of +black crape? A quarter of a yard will do." + +"Ah!" sighed the exile, "my poor wife's wardrobe is all of that colour. +I'm sure she can supply you with plenty of crape. But say, _cher +capitaine_! what do you want with it?" + +"Don't ask me to tell you, your Excellency--not now. Be so good as to +lend me those two things. To-morrow I shall return them; and at the +same time give you an account of the use I have made of them. If +fortune favour me, it will be then possible to do so." + +Kossuth, perceiving that his friend was determined on reticence, did not +further press for an explanation. + +He lit a long chibouque, of which some half-dozen--presents received +during his captivity at Kutayah, in Turkey--stood in a corner of the +room. Inviting Maynard to take one of them, the two sate smoking and +talking, till the light of a street-lamp flashing athwart the window, +told them the day was done. + +"Now, Governor!" said Maynard, getting up out of his chair, "I've but +one more request to make of you--that you will send out your servant to +fetch me a cab." + +"Of course," said Kossuth, touching a spring-bell that stood on the +table of his studio. + +A domestic made appearance--a girl, whose stolid German physiognomy +Maynard seemed to distrust. Not that he disliked her looks; but she was +not the thing for his purpose. + +"Does your Excellency keep a man-servant?" he asked. "Excuse me for +putting such a question?" + +"Indeed, no, my dear captain! In my poor exiled state I do not feel +justified. If it is only to fetch a cab, Gertrude can do it. She +speaks English well enough for that." Maynard once more glanced at the +girl--still distrustingly. "Stay!" said Kossuth. "There's a man comes +to us in the evenings. Perhaps he is here now. Gertrude, is Karl +Steiner in the kitchen?" + +"Ya," was the laconic answer. + +"Tell him to come to me." + +Gertrude drew back, perhaps wondering why _she_ was not considered smart +enough to be sent for a hackney. + +"He's an intelligent fellow, this Karl," said Kossuth, after the girl +had gone out of the room. "He speaks English fluently, or you may talk +to him in French; and you can also trust him with your confidence." + +Karl came in. + +His looks did not belie the description the ex-governor had given of +him. + +"Do you know anything of horses?" was the first question, put to him in +French. + +"I have been ten years in the stables of Count Teleky. His Excellency +knows that." + +"Yes, captain. This young man has been groom to our friend Teleky; and +you know the count's propensity for horseflesh." + +Kossuth spoke of a distinguished Hungarian noble; then, like himself, a +refugee in London. + +"Enough?" said Maynard, apparently satisfied that Steiner was his man. +"Now, Monsieur Karl, I merely want you to call me a cab." + +"Which sort, _votre seigneurie_?" asked the ex-groom, giving the true +stable salute. "Hansom or four-wheeler?" + +"Hansom," replied Maynard, pleased with the man's sharpness. + +"_Tres bien_." + +"And hear me, Monsieur Karl; I want you to select one with a horse that +can _go_. You understand me?" + +"_Parfaitement_." + +"When you've brought it to the gate, come inside here; and don't wait to +see me into it." + +With another touch to his cap, Karl went off on his errand. + +"Now, Governor?" said Maynard, "I must ask you to look up that horsewhip +and quarter-yard of crape." + +Kossuth appeared in a quandary. + +"I hope, captain," he said, "you don't intend any--" + +"Excuse me, your Excellency," said Maynard, interrupting him. "I don't +intend anything that may compromise _you_. I have my own feelings to +satisfy in this matter--my own wrongs I might call them; more than +that--those of my country." + +The patriotic speech went home to the Hungarian patriot's heart. He +made no farther attempt at appeasing the irate adventurer; but stepping +hastily out of the room, soon returned, carrying the crape and +horsewhip--the latter a true hound-scorer with buckhorn handle. + +The gritting of wheels on the gravel told that the cab had drawn up +before the gate. + +"Good-night, Governor!" said Maynard, taking the things from Kossuth's +hand. "If the _Times_ of to-morrow tells you of a gentleman having been +soundly horsewhipped, don't say it was I who did it." + +And with this singular caution, Maynard made his adieus to the +ex-Dictator of Hungary! + + + +CHAPTER SIXTY SIX. + +TWO CABS. + +In London dark nights are the rule, not the exception. More especially +in the month of November; when the fog rolls up from the muddy Thames, +spreading its plague-like pall over the metropolis. + +On just such a night a cab might have been seen issuing from the +_embouchure_ of South Bank, passing down Park Road, and turning abruptly +into the Park, through the "Hanover Gate." + +So dense was the fog, it could only have been seen by one who chanced to +be near it; and very near to know that it was a hansom. + +The bull's-eye burning overhead in front reflected inside just +sufficient light to show that it carried only a single "fare," of the +masculine gender. + +A more penetrating light would have made apparent a gentleman--so far as +dress was concerned--sitting with something held in his hand that +resembled a hunting-whip. + +But the brightest light would not have sufficed for the scanning of his +face--concealed as it was behind a covering of crape. + +Before the cab carrying him had got clear of the intricacies of South +Bank, a low whistle was heard both by him and his driver. + +He seemed to have been listening for it; and was not surprised to see +another cab--a hansom like his own--standing on the corner of Park Road +as he passed out--its Jehu, with reins in hand, just settling himself +upon his seat, as if preparing to start. Any one, who could have looked +upon his face at the moment, could have told he had been expecting it. + +Nor was he astonished, on passing through Hanover Gate, to perceive that +the second cab was coming after him. + +If you enter the Regent's Park by this gate, take the left hand turning, +and proceed for about a quarter of a mile, you will reach a spot +secluded as any within the limits of London. It is where the canal, +traversing along the borders of the Park, but inside its palings, runs +between deep embankments, on both sides densely wooded. So solitary is +this place, that a stranger to the locality could not believe himself to +be within the boundaries of the British metropolis. + +On the night in question neither the Park hag, nor its constable, were +encountered along the drive. The damp, dense fog rendered it +uncomfortable for both. + +All the more favourable for him carried in the leading cab, whose design +required darkness. + +"Jarvey?" said he, addressing himself to his driver, through the little +trap-door overhead. "You see that hansom behind us?" + +"Can't see, but I hear it, sir." + +"Well; there's a gentleman inside it I intend horsewhipping." + +"All right, sir. Tell me when you want to stop." + +"I want to stop about three hundred yards this side of the Zoological +Gardens. There's a copse that comes close to the road. Pull up +alongside of it; and stay there till I return to you." + +"Ay, ay, sir," responded the driver, who, having received a sovereign in +advance, was dead-bent on obedience. "Anything else I can do for your +honour?" + +"All I want of you is, if you hear any interference on the part of _his_ +driver, you might leave your horse for a little--just to see fair play." + +"Trust me, your honour! Don't trouble yourself about that. I'll take +care of him?" + +If there be any chivalry in a London cabman, it is to be found in the +driver of a hansom--especially after having received a sovereign with +the prospect of earning another. This was well-known to his "fare" with +the craped face. + +On reaching the described copse the leading cab was pulled up--its +passenger leaping instantly out, and gliding in under the trees. + +Almost at the same instant, its pursuer came to a stand--somewhat to the +surprise of him who sate inside it. + +"They've stopped, sir," said the driver, whispering down through the +trap. + +"I see that, damn them! What can it be for?" + +"To give you a horsewhipping!" cried a man with a masked face, springing +up on the footboard, and clutching the inquirer by the collar. + +A piteous cry from Mr Swinton--for it was he--did not hinder him from +being dragged out of his hansom, and receiving a chastisement he would +remember to his dying day! + +His driver, leaping from the box, made show to interfere. But he was +met by another driver equally eager, and somewhat stronger; who, seizing +him by the throat, did not let go his hold of him till he had fairly +earned the additional sovereign! + +A policeman who chanced to overhear the piteous cries of Swinton, came +straddling up to the spot; but only after the scuffle had ended, and the +wheels of a swift cab departing through the thick fog told him he was +too late to take the aggressor into custody! + +The spy proceeded no farther. + +After being disembarrassed of the policeman, he was but too happy to be +driven back to the villa in South Bank. + + + +CHAPTER SIXTY SEVEN. + +DISINTERESTED SYMPATHY. + +On arriving at his own residence, Swinton's servants scarcely recognised +him. It was as much as his own wife could do. There were several dark +weals traced diagonally across his cheeks, with a purple shading around +his left "peeper"; for in punishing the spy, Maynard had made use not +only of an implement of the hunting-field, but one more peculiar to the +"ring." + +With a skin full of sore bones, and many ugly abrasions, Swinton +tottered indoors, to receive the sympathies of his beloved Fan. + +She was not alone in bestowing them. Sir Robert Cottrell had dropped in +during his absence; and the friendly baronet appeared as much pained as +if the sufferer had been his brother. + +He had less difficulty in counterfeiting sorrow. His chagrin at the +quick return supplied him with an inspiration. + +"What is it, my dear Swinton? For heaven's sake tell us what has +happened to you?" + +"You see, Sir Robert," answered the maltreated man. + +"I see that you've suffered some damage. But who did it?" + +"Footpads in the Park. I was driving around it to get to the east side. +You know that horrid place this side of the Zoo Gardens?" + +"Oh, yes," answered Sir Robert. + +"Well; I'd got round there, when all at once the cab was stopped by half +a score of scoundrels, and I was instantly pulled out into the road. +While half of them took hold of the driver, the other half proceeded to +search my pockets. Of course I resisted; and you see what's come of it. +They'd have killed me but for a policeman who chanced to come up, after +I'd done my best, and was about getting the worst of it. They then ran +off, leaving me in this precious condition--damn them!" + +"Damn them!" said Sir Robert, repeating the anathema with pretended +indignation. "_Do_ you think there's no chance of your being able to +identify them?" + +"Not the slightest. The fog was so thick you could have cut it with a +knife; and they ran off, before the policeman could get hold of any one +of them. In his long cumbersome coat it would have been simple nonsense +to follow. He said so; and of course I could only climb back into my +cab and drive home here. It's lucky I had a cab; for, damme, if I +believe I could have walked it?" + +"By Jove! you do appear damaged!" said the sympathising baronet. "Don't +you think you had better go to bed?" + +Sir Robert had a design in the suggestion. + +"Oh, no," rejoined Swinton, who, despite the confusion of his ideas, +perfectly understood it. "I'm not so bad as that. I'll take a lie-down +on this sofa; and you, Fan, order me some brandy and water! You'll join +me, Sir Robert I'm still able to smoke a cigar with you." + +"You'd better have an oyster to your eye?" said the baronet, drawing out +his glass and scrutinising the empurpled peeper. "It will keep down +that `mouse' that seems to be creeping out underneath it. 'Twill help +to take out the colour." + +"A devilish good idea! Fan, send one of the servants for an oyster. +Stay; while they're about it they may as well bring a couple of dozen. +Could you eat some, Sir Robert?" + +Sir Robert thought he could. He did not much care for them, but it +would be an excuse to procrastinate his stay. Perhaps something might +turn up to secure him a _tete-a-tete_ with Mrs Swinton. He had just +commenced one that was promising to be agreeable, when so unexpectedly +interrupted. + +"We may as well make a supper of it?" suggested Swinton, who, having +already taken a gulp of the brandy and water, was feeling himself again. + +"Let the servant order three dozen, my dear. That will be a dozen for +each of us." + +"No, it won't," jokingly rejoined the baronet. "With three dozen, some +of us will have to be contented with eleven." + +"How so, Sir Robert?" + +"You forget the oyster that is to go to your eye. And now I look more +carefully at that adolescent mouse, I think it will require at least a +couple of the bivalves to give it a proper covering." + +Swinton laughed at the baronet's ready wit. How could he help it? + +"Well, let them be baker's dozen," he said. "That will cover +everything." Three baker's dozen were ordered and brought Fan saw to +them being stewed in the kitchen, and placed with appropriate +"trimmings" on the table; while the biggest of them, spread upon a white +rag, was laid against her husband's eye, and there snugly bandaged. + +It blinded that one eye. Stingy as he was, Sir Robert would have given +a sovereign had it shut the sight out of both! + +But it did not; and the three sate down to supper, his host keeping the +sound eye upon him. + +And so carefully was it kept upon him, that the baronet felt bored with +the situation, and wished himself back at his club. + +He thought of making some excuse to escape from it; and then of staying, +and trying to make the best of it. An idea occurred to him. + +"This brute sometimes gets drunk," was his mental soliloquy, as he +looked across the table at his host with the Cyclopean eye. "If I can +make him so, there might be a chance of getting a word with her. I +wonder whether it can be done? It can't cost much to try. Half a dozen +of champagne ought to do it." + +"I say, Swinton!" he said aloud, addressing his host in a friendly, +familiar manner. "I never eat stewed oysters without champagne. Have +you got any in the house? Excuse me for asking the question! It's a +positive impertinence." + +"Nothing of the sort, Sir Robert. I'm only sorry to say there's not a +single bottle of champagne in my cellar. We've been here such a short +while, and I've not had time to stock it. But no matter for that I can +send out, and get--" + +"No!" said the baronet, interrupting him. "I shan't permit that; unless +you allow me to pay for it." + +"Sir Robert!" + +"Don't be offended, my dear fellow. That isn't what I mean. The reason +why I've made the offer is because I know you can't get _real_ champagne +in this neighbourhood--not nearer than Winckworth's. Now, it so +happens, that they are my wine merchants. Let me send to them. It +isn't very far. Your servant, in a hansom cab, can fetch the stuff, and +be back in fifteen minutes. But to get the right stuff he must order it +for _me_." + +Sir Robert's host was not the man to stand upon punctilios. Good +champagne was not so easily procured--especially in the neighbourhood of +Saint John's Wood. He knew it; and, surrendering his scruples, he rang +the bell for the servant, permitting Sir Robert to write out the order. +It was _carte blanche_, both for the cab and champagne. + +In less than twenty minutes the messenger returned, bringing back with +him a basket of choice "_Cliquot_." + +In five minutes more a bottle was uncorked; and the three sat quaffing +it, Swinton, his wife, and the stingy nobleman who stood treat--not +stingy now, over that which promised him a pleasure. + + + +CHAPTER SIXTY EIGHT. + +AN IRKSOME IMPRISONMENT. + +Succeeding his castigation, it was all of a week before Mr Swinton +could make appearance upon the streets--during daylight. + +The discoloration of his cheeks, caused by the horsewhip, was slow of +coming out; and even the oyster kept on for twenty-four hours failed to +eliminate the purple crescent under his eye. + +He had to stay indoors--sneaking out only at night. + +The pain was slight. But the chagrin was intolerable; and he would have +given a good sum out of his spy pay to have had revenge upon the man who +had so chastised him. + +This was impossible; and for several reasons, among others, his +ignorance of whom it was. He only knew that his chastiser had been a +guest of Kossuth; and this from his having come out of Kossuth's house. +He had not himself seen the visitor as he went in; and his subordinate, +who shared with him the duplicate duty of watching and dogging, did not +know him. He was a stranger who had not been there before--at least +since the establishment of the picket. + +From the description given of his person, as also what Swinton had +himself seen of it through the thick fog--something, too, from what he +had felt--he had formed, in his own mind, a suspicion as to whom the +individual was. He could not help thinking of Maynard. It may seem +strange he should have thought of him. But no; for the truth is, that +Maynard was rarely out of his mind. The affair at Newport was a thing +not easily forgotten. And there was the other affair in Paris, where +Julia Girdwood had shown an interest in the Zouaves' captive that did +not escape observation from her jealous escort. + +He had been made aware of her brief absence from the Louvre Hotel, and +conjectured its object. Notwithstanding the apparent slight she had put +upon his rival in the Newport ball-room, he suspected her of a secret +inclining to him--unknown to her mother. + +It made Swinton savage to think of it; the more from a remembrance of +another and older rivalry, in which the same man had outstripped him. + +To be beaten in a love intrigue, backed out in a duel, and finally +flogged with a horsewhip, are three distinct humiliations any one of +which is enough to make a man savage. + +And Swinton was so, to the point of ferocity. + +That Maynard had done to him the two first, he knew--about the last he +was not so certain. But he conjectured it was he who had handled the +horsewhip. This, despite the obscurity caused by the fog, and the crape +masking the face of his chastiser. + +The voice that had accosted him did not sound like Maynard's, but it +also may have been masked. + +During the time he was detained indoors, he passed a portion of it in +thinking of revenge, and studying how he was to obtain it. + +Had his patron seen him, as he sat almost continually behind the +Venetian, with his eyes upon Kossuth's gate, he would have given him +credit for an assiduous attention to his duties. + +But he was not so honest as he seemed. Many visitors entered the +opposite house--some of them strange-looking characters, whose very +stride spoke of revolution--entered and took departure, without being +dogged. + +The spy, brooding over his own private resentment had no thoughts to +spare for the service of the State. Among the visitors of Kossuth he +was desirous of identifying Captain Maynard. + +He had no definite idea as to what he would do to him; least of all that +of giving him into custody. The publicity of the police court would +have been fatal to him--as damaging to his employer and patron. It +might cause exposure of the existence of that spy system, hitherto +unsuspected in England. The man, who had got out of the hansom to +horsewhip him, must have known that he was being followed, and +wherefore. It would never do for the British public to know it Swinton +had no intention of letting them know; nor yet Lord --, and his +employer. To the latter, calling occasionally of evenings, he told the +same story as that imparted to Sir Robert Cottrell--only with the +addition that, the footpads had set upon him while in the exercise of +his avocation as a servant of the State! + +The generous nobleman was shocked at his mishap; sympathised with him, +but thought it better to say nothing about it; hinted at an increase of +pay; and advised him, since he could not show himself during daylight on +the streets, to take the air after night--else his health might suffer +by a too close confinement. + +The _protege_ accepted this advice; several times going out of an +evening, and betaking himself to a Saint John's Wood tavern, where +"euchre" was played in the parlour. He had now a stake, and could enjoy +the game. + +Twice, returning home at a late hour, he found the patron in his own +parlour, quietly conversing with his wife. His lordship had simply +called up to inquire after his health; and having also some instructions +to communicate, had been impatiently awaiting his return. + +The patron did not say impatiently. He would not have been so impolite. +It was an interpolation proceeding from the lips of "Fan." + +And Swinton saw all this; and much more. He saw new bracelets +glistening upon his wife's wrist, diamond drops dangling from her ears, +and a costly ring sparkling upon her finger--not there before! + +He saw them, without inquiring whence they had come. He cared not; or +if he did, it was not with any distaste at their secret bestowal. Sir +Robert Cottrell saw them, with more displeasure than he. + + + +CHAPTER SIXTY NINE. + +THE CABRIOLET. + +There was but one thing for which Richard Swinton really now cared. He +liked "euchre"; he would have relished revenge; but there was a thought +to which both these enjoyments had become subservient. + +It was a passion rather than thought--its object, Julia Girdwood. + +He had grown to _love_ her. + +Such a man might be supposed incapable of having this passion. And in +its purity, he was so. + +But there is love in more ways than one; and in one of them the +ex-guardsman's heart had got engaged; in other words, he had got +"struck." + +It was love in its lowest sense; but not on this account weakest. + +In Swinton it had become strong enough to render him regardless of +almost everything else. Even the villainous scheme, originally +contrived for robbing Julia Girdwood of her fortune, had become +secondary to a desire to possess himself of her person. + +The former was not lost sight of; only that the latter had risen into +the ascendant. + +On this account, more than any other, did he curse his irksome indoor +life. + +It occurred just after that pleasant dinner-party, when he supposed +himself to have made an impression. It hindered him from following it +up. Six days had elapsed, and he had seen nothing of the Girdwoods. He +had been unable to call upon them. How could he with such a face, even +by explaining the damage done to it? Either way the thing was not to be +thought of; and he had to leave them uncalled upon. + +He fretted meanwhile, longing to look once more upon Julia Girdwood. +Cards could not cure him of it, and what he saw, or suspected, in the +conduct of his own wife, made him lean all the more to his longings; +since the more did he stand in need of _distraction_. + +He had other thoughts to distress him--fancies they might be. So long +without seeing her, what in the meantime was transpiring? A beautiful +woman, with wealth, she could not be going on unnoticed? Sure to be +beset with admirers; some of them to become worshippers? There was +Lucas, one of the last already; but Swinton did not deign to think of +him. Others might make appearance; and among them one who would answer +the conditions required by her mother before permitting her to marry. + +How could he tell but that a real lord had already trumped up on the +tapis; and was at that moment kneeling upon one of the Clarendon +carpets, by the selvedge of her silken skirt? + +Or if not a lord, might not Maynard be there, unknown to the mother? + +Swinton had this last fancy; and it was the least pleasant of all. + +It was in his mind every day, as he sat by the window, waiting till the +skin of his face should be restored to its natural colour. + +And when this at length came to pass, he lost not another day, but +proceeded to call upon the Girdwoods. + +He went in tip-top style. His spy pay, drawn from such a generous +patron, afforded it. No swell upon the streets was dressed in better +fashion; for he wore a Poole coat, Melnotte boots, and a hat of +Christy's make. + +He did not walk, as on his first call at the Clarendon. + +He was transported thither in a cabriolet, with a high-stepping horse +between the shafts, and a top-boot tiger on the stand-board. + +Mrs Girdwood's apartments in the aristocratic hotel commanded a window +fronting upon Bond Street. He knew that his turn-out would be seen. + +All these steps had been taken, with a view to carrying on the cheat. + +And the cabriolet had been chosen for a special purpose. It was the +style of vehicle in vogue among distinguished swells--notably young +noblemen. They were not often seen upon the streets; and when seen +attracting attention, as they should--being the handsomest thing upon +heels. + +During one of her moments of enthusiasm, he had heard Julia Girdwood say +she should like to have a ride in one of them. He was just the man to +drive her: for while a guardsman he had often handled the ribbons of a +drag; and was esteemed one of the best "whips" of his time. + +If he could only coax Julia Girdwood into his cabriolet--of course also +her mother to permit it--what an advantage it would give, him! An +exhibition of his skill; the opportunity of a _tete-a-tete_ +unrestrained--a chance he had not yet had; these, with other +contingencies, might tend to advance him in her estimation. + +It was a delicate proposal to make. It would have been a daring one, +but for the speech he had heard suggesting it. On the strength of this +he could introduce the subject, without fear of offending. + +She might go. He knew she was a young lady fond of peculiar +experiences, and not afraid of social criticism. She had never +submitted to its tyranny. In this she was truly American. + +He believed she would go, or consent to it; and it would be simply a +question of permission from the mother. + +And after their last friendly interview, he believed that Mrs Girdwood +would give it. + +Backed by such belief there could be no harm in trying; and for this the +cabriolet had been chartered. + +Buoyant of hope, Mr Swinton sprang out of the vehicle, tossed the reins +to his tiger, and stepped over the threshold of the Clarendon. + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTY. + +A SKILFUL DRIVER. + +"Mrs Girdwood at home?" he asked, addressing himself to the janitor of +the hotel. + +"I'll see, sir," answered the man, making him an obsequious bow, and +hurrying away to the office. + +The hall-keeper remembered the gent, who carried such good cigars, and +was so liberal with them. He had been pleased with his appearance then. +He liked it better now in a new coat, unquestionably a Poole, with +pants, boots, and tile to correspond. Besides, he had glanced through +the glass-door, and seen the cabriolet with its top-booted tiger. To +the owners of such he was instinctively polite; but more so to Mr +Swinton, remembering his choice cigars. + +The ex-guardsman waited for his return with some anxiety. The +cabriolet, tiger included, had cost him a "sov." It would be awkward, +if the twenty shillings had been laid out in vain. + +He was relieved at the return of the Clarendon Cerberus. + +"Mrs Girdwood and fambly are in, sir. Shall I send up your card?" + +"Please do." + +And Swinton, drawing out the bit of pasteboard, handed it over to the +official. + +A servant more active upon his limbs carried it upstairs. + +"Nice lady, sir, Mrs Girdwood?" remarked the hall-keeper, by way of +"laying pipe" for a perquisite. "Nice fambly all on 'em; 'specially +that young lady." + +"Which of them?" asked Swinton, thinking it no harm to strengthen his +friendship with the official. "There are two." + +"Well, both on 'em for that matter, sir. They be both wonderful nice +creeturs." + +"Ah! true. But you've expressed a preference. Now which may I ask, is +the one you refer to as specially nice?" + +The janitor was puzzled. He did not know which it would be most +agreeable to the gentleman to hear praised. + +A compromise suggested itself. + +"Well, sir; the fair un's a remarkable nice young lady. She's got sich +a sweet temper, an's dreadfully good-lookin', too. But, sir, if it come +to a question of beauty, I shed say--in course I ain't much of a judge-- +but I shed say the dark 'un's a splendiferous creetur!" + +The janitor's verdict left his judgment still somewhat obscure. But Mr +Swinton had no time to reflect upon it Mrs Girdwood not caring for +expense, occupied a suite of apartments on the first floor; and the +messenger soon returned. + +He brought the pleasing intelligence, that the gentleman was to be +"shown up." + +There was an _empressement_ in the servant's manner, that told the +visitor he would be made welcome. + +And he was; Mrs Girdwood springing up from her seat, and rushing to the +door to receive him. + +"My lord! Mr Swinton, I beg your pardon. A whole week, and you've not +been near us! We were all wondering what had become of you. The girls +here, had begun to think--shall I say it, girls?" + +Both Julia and Cornelia looked a little perplexed. Neither was aware of +what she had "begun to think" about the absence of Mr Swinton. + +"Aw--do tell me, by all means!" urged he, appealing to Mrs Girdwood. +"I'm vewy much intewested to know. It's so kind of the young ladies to +think of me at all--a paw fawlorn bachelor!" + +"I shall tell you then, Mr Swinton, if you promise not to be offended!" + +"Offended! Impawsible?" + +"Well, then," continued the widow, without thinking more of the +permission asked of "her girls," "we thought that some terrible affair +had happened. Excuse me for calling it terrible. It would only be so +to your numerous lady friends." + +"What, pway?" + +"That you'd been getting married!" + +"Mawied! To whom?" + +"Oh, sir; you need scarcely ask. Of course to the Honourable and very +beautiful Miss Courtney." + +Swinton smiled. It was a smile somewhat resembling a grin. A terrible +affair had happened to him; but not quite so bad as being married to the +Honourable Geraldine Courtney--otherwise Kate the coper! + +"Aw, ladies!" he replied in a self-deprecating tone, "you do me too much +honaw. I am far from being a favowite with the lady in question. We +are no gweat fwiends, I ashaw you." + +The assurance seemed gratifying to Mrs Girdwood and a little to Julia. +Cornelia did not appear to care for it, one way or the other. + +"Fact is," continued Swinton, following up the advantage gained by the +incidental allusion to the Honourable Geraldine, "I've just this moment +come from qua'lling with her. She wished me to take her out faw a +dwive. I wefused." + +"Refused!" exclaimed Mrs Girdwood, in surprise. "Oh! Mr Swinton! +Refused such a beautiful lady. So accomplished too! How could you?" + +"Well, madam, as I've told you, Miss Courtney and I are not bwother and +sister. Besides, I dwove her out yesterday, and that should pwead my +excuse. To-day I ordered my horse--my best one--just faw a special +purpose. I hope I shall not be disappointed?" + +"What purpose?" inquired Mrs Girdwood, her visitor's remark having +suggested the question. "Excuse me, sir, for asking." + +"I hope, madam, yaw will excuse me for telling yaw. In a conversation +that occurred some days ago, yaw daughter expressed a wish to take a +wide in one of our English cabwiolets. Am I wight, Miss Girdwood?" + +"True," assented Julia, "I did. I have a curiosity to be driven behind +one of those high-stepping steeds!" + +"If yaw will do me the fayvaw to look out of this window, I think yaw +will see one that answers the descwiption." + +Julia glided up to the window; her mother going along with her. Miss +Inskip did not stir from her seat. + +Swinton's turn-out was seen upon the street below: a cabriolet with a +coat of arms upon the panel--a splendid horse between the shafts, pawing +the pavement, chafing his bit, flinging the froth over his shining +counter, and held in place by a miniature groom in top-boots and +buckskins. + +"What a pretty equipage?" exclaimed Julia. "I'm sure it must be +pleasant to ride in?" + +"Miss Girdwood; if yaw will do me the honaw--" + +Julia turned to her mother, with a glance that said: "May I?" + +"You may," was the look given back by Mrs Girdwood. How could she +refuse? Had not Mr Swinton denied the Honourable Geraldine, and given +the preference to her daughter? An airing would do her good. It could +do her no harm, in the company of a lord. She was free to take it. + +Mrs Girdwood signified her consent; and Julia hastened to dress for the +drive. + +There was frost in the air; and she came back from her room enveloped in +costly furs. + +It was a cloak of sea-otter, coquettishly trimmed, and becoming to her +dark complexion. She looked superb in it. + +Swinton thought so, as with hopeful heart, but trembling hand, he +assisted her into the cabriolet! + +The drive was round the Park, into Kensington Gardens, and then back to +the Clarendon. + +But not till after Mr Swinton had passed along Park Lane, and stopped +at the door of a great nobleman's residence. + +"It is very wude of me, Miss Girdwood," said he, "but I have a call to +make on his lawdship by appointment; and I hope yaw will kindly excuse +me?" + +"By all means," said Julia, delighted with her accomplished cavalier, +who had shown himself such a skilful driver. + +"One moment--I shall not allow his lordship to detain me more than a +moment." + +And Swinton sprang out; surrendering the reins to his groom, already at +the horse's head. + +He was true to his promise. In a short time he returned--so short, that +his lordship could scarce have done more than bid him the time of day. + +In truth he had not seen the nobleman, nor intended seeing him either. +It was a counterfeit call; and went no further than a word or two +exchanged with the house steward inside the hall. + +But he did not tell this to his fair companion in the cabriolet; and she +was driven back into Bond Street, and landed triumphantly at the +Clarendon, under the eyes of her mother, admiring her from the window. + +When that lady had an account of the drive in general, but more +especially of the call that had been made, her respect for Mr Swinton +was still further increased. He was surely the thing sought for! And +Julia began to think so too. + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTY ONE. + +A QUIET HOTEL. + +By the drive Swinton believed himself to have achieved a grand success; +and he determined to lose no time in following it up. + +The ground seemed now well under him--enough to support him in making +the proposal so long deferred. + +And in less than three days from that time, he called at the Clarendon, +and made it. + +Favoured by an opportunity in which he found her alone, it was done +direct to the young lady herself. + +But the answer was not direct--nor definite in any way. It was neither +a "yes" nor a "no." He was simply referred to her mother. + +The equivocation was not exactly to his taste. It certainly seemed +strange enough. Still, though a little chagrined, he was not altogether +discomforted by it; for how could he anticipate refusal in the quarter +to which he had been referred? + +Obedient to the permission given him, he waited upon Girdwood _mere_; +and to her repeated the proposal with all the eloquent advocacy he could +command. + +If the daughter's answer had not been definite, that of the mother was; +and to a degree that placed Mr Swinton in a dilemma. + +"Sir!" said she, "we feel very much honoured--both myself and daughter. +But your lordship will excuse me for pointing out to you, that, in +making this proposal, you appear to have forgotten something." + +"Pway what, madam, may I ask?" + +"Your lordship has not made it in your own name; nor have you yet told +us your title. Until that is done, your lordship will see, how absurd +it would be for either my daughter, or myself, to give you a decisive +answer. We cannot!" + +Mrs Girdwood did not speak either harshly, or satirically. On the +contrary, she unburdened herself in the most conciliatory tone--in fear +of offending his lordship, and causing him to declare "off." + +She was but too anxious to secure him--that is, supposing him to be a +lord. Had she known that he was not, her answer would have been +delivered in very different terms; and the acquaintance between her and +Mr Swinton would have ended, with as little ceremony as it had begun. + +It seemed on the edge of such termination, as the pseudo-lord, +stammering in his speech, endeavoured to make rejoinder. + +And not much farther off, when this was made, and the old excuse still +pleaded for preserving that inexplicable _incognito_! + +Swinton was in truth taken by surprise; and scarce knew what to say. + +But the American mother did; and in plain terms told him, that, until +the title was declared, she must decline the proffered honour of having +him for a son-in-law! + +When _it_ was made known, he might expect a more categorical answer. + +Her tone was not such as to make him despair. On the contrary, it +clearly indicated that the answer would be favourable, provided the +conditions were fulfilled. + +But then, this was sufficient for despair. How was he to make her +believe in his having a title? + +"By possessing it?" he said to himself, as, after the fruitless +interview, he strode off from the Clarendon Hotel. "By possessing it," +he repeated. "And, by heavens! I shall possess it, as sure as my +name's Swinton!" + +Farther on he reflected: + +"Yes! that's the way. I've got the old _rout_ in my power! Only needs +one step more to secure him. And he shall give me whatever I ask--even +to a title!" + +"I know he can't make me a lord; but he can a knight or a baronet. It +would be all the same to her; and with `Sir' to my name, she will no +longer deny me. With that, I shall get Julia Girdwood and her two +hundred thousand pounds!" + +"By heaven! I care more for her, than her money. The girl has got into +my heart. I shall go mad, if I fail to get her into my arms?" + +Thus wildly reflecting, he continued to traverse the streets: down Bond +Street, along Piccadilly, into the neighbourhood of Leicester Square. + +As if the devil had turned up to aid him in his evil designs, an episode +occurred in exact consonance with them. It seemed an accident--though +who could tell that it was one; since it might have been prearranged? + +He was standing by the lamp-post, in the centre of the Piccadilly +Circus, when a cab drove past, containing two fares--a lady and +gentleman. + +Both were keeping their faces well back from the window; the lady's +under a thick veil; while that of the gentleman was screened by a copy +of the _Times_ newspaper held cunningly in hand, as if he was intensely +interested in the perusal of some thundering leader! + +In spite of this, Swinton recognised the occupants of the cab--both of +them. The lady was his own wife; the gentleman his noble patron of Park +Lane! + +The cab passed him, without any attempt on his part to stay it. He only +followed, silently, and at a quick pace. + +It turned down the Haymarket, and drew up by the door of one of those +quiet hotels, known only to those light travellers who journey without +being encumbered with luggage. + +The gentleman got out; the lady after; and both glided in through a +door, that stood hospitably open to receive them. + +The cabman, whose fare had been paid in advance, drove immediately away. + +"Enough!" muttered Swinton, with a diabolical grin upon his countenance. +"That will do. And now for a witness to make good my word in a court +of--Ha! ha! ha! It will never come to that." + +Lest it should, he hastened to procure the witness. He was just in the +neighbourhood to make such a thing easy. He knew Leicester Square, its +every place and purlieu; and among others one where he could pitch upon +a "pal." + +In less than fifteen minutes' time, he found one; and in fifteen more, +the two might have been seen standing at the corner of--Street, +apparently discussing of some celestial phenomenon that absorbed the +whole of their attention! + +They had enough left to give to a lady and gentleman, who shortly after +came out of the "quiet hotel"--the lady first, the gentleman at an +interval behind her. + +They did not discover themselves to the lady, who seemed to pass on +without observing them. + +But as the gentleman went skulking by, both turned their faces towards +him. + +He, too, looked as if he did not see them; but the start given, and the +increased speed at which he hurried on out of sight, told that he had +recognised at least one of them, with a distinctness that caused him to +totter in his steps! + +The abused husband made no movement to follow him. So far he was safe; +and in the belief that he--or she at least--had escaped recognition, he +walked leisurely along Piccadilly, congratulating himself on his _bonne +fortune_! + +He would have been less jubilant, could he have heard the muttered words +of his _protege_, after the latter had parted from his "pal." + +"I've got it right now," said he. "Knighthood for Richard Swinton, or a +divorce from his wife, with no end of damages! God bless the dear Fan, +for playing so handsomely into my hand! God bless her?" + +And with this infamy on his lips, the _ci-devant_ guardsman flung +himself into a hansom cab, and hastened home to Saint John's Wood. + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTY TWO. + +WANTED--A MASTER! + +Having changed from soldier to author, Maynard was not idle in his new +avocation. + +Book after book came from his facile pen; each adding to the reputation +achieved by his first essay in the field of literature: + +A few of the younger spirits of the press--that few _addicti curare +verbis nullius magistri_--at once boldly pronounced in their favour: +calling them works of genius. + +But the older hands, who constitute the members of the "Mutual +Admiration Society"--those disappointed aspirants, who in all ages and +countries assume the criticism of art and authorship--could see in +Maynard's writings only "sensation." + +Drawing their inspiration from envy, and an influence not less mean-- +from that _magister_, the leading journal, whose very nod was trembling +to them--they endeavoured to give satisfaction to the despot of the +press, by depreciating the efforts of the young author. + +They adopted two different modes of procedure: Some of them said +nothing. These were the wiser ones; since the silence of the critic is +his most eloquent condemnation. They were wiser, too, in that their +words were in no danger of contradiction. The others spoke, but +sneeringly and with contempt. They found vent for their spleen by +employing the terms "melodrama," "blue-fire," and a host of hackneyed +phrases, that, like the modern slang "sensational," may be conveniently +applied to the most classic conceptions of the author. + +How many of the best works of Byron, Shakespeare, and Scott, would +escape the "sensation" category? + +They could not deny that Maynard's writings had attained a certain +degree of popularity. This had been achieved without their aid. But it +was only evidence of the corrupted taste of the age. + +When was there an age, without this corrupted taste? + +His writings would not live. Of that they were certain! + +They have lived ever since; and sold too, to the making of some +half-dozen fortunes--if not for himself, for those upon whom he somewhat +unwarily bestowed them. + +And they promise to abide upon the bookshelves a little longer; perhaps +not with any grand glory--but certainly not with any great accumulation +of dust. + +And the day may come, when these same critics may be dead and the +written thoughts of Mr Maynard be no longer deemed _merely sensations_. + +He was not thinking of this while writing them. He was but pursuing a +track, upon which the chances of life had thrown him. + +Nor was it to him the most agreeable. After a youth spent in vigorous +personal exertion--some of it in the pursuit of stirring adventure--the +tranquil atmosphere of the studio was little to his taste. He endured +it under the belief that it was only to be an episode. + +Any new path, promising adventure, would have tempted him from his +chair, and caused him to fling his pen into the fire. + +None offered; and he kept on writing--writing--and thinking of Blanche +Vernon. + +And of her he thought unhappily; for he dared not write to her. That +was a liberty denied him; not only from its danger, but his own delicate +sense of honour. + +It would have been denied him, too, from his not knowing her address. +He had heard that Sir George Vernon had gone once more abroad--his +daughter along with him. Whither, he had not heard; nor did he make +much effort to ascertain. Enough for him that abroad or at home, he +would be equally excluded from the society of that young creature, whose +image was scarce ever absent from his thoughts. + +There were times, when it was painfully present; and he sought +abstraction by a vigorous exercise of his pen. + +At such times he longed once more to take up the sword as a more potent +consoler; but no opportunity seemed to offer. + +One night he was reflecting upon this--thinking of some filibustering +expedition into which he might fling himself--when a knock came to his +door, as of some spirit invoked by his wishes. + +"Come in!" + +It was Roseveldt who answered the summons. + +The Count had become a resident of London--an idler upon town--for want +of congenial employment elsewhere. + +Some fragment of his fortune still remaining, enabled him to live the +life of a _flaneur_, while his title of nobility gave him the _entree_ +of many a good door. + +But, like Maynard, he too was pining for an active life, and disgusted +to look daily upon his sword, rusting ingloriously in its sheath! + +By the mode in which he made entry, something whispered Maynard, that +the time had come when both were to be released from their irksome +inaction. The Count was flurried, excited, tugging at his moustache, as +if he intended tearing it away from his lip! + +"What is it, my dear Roseveldt?" + +"Don't you smell gunpowder?" + +"No." + +"There's some being burnt by this time." + +"Where?" + +"In Milan. The revolution's broke out there. But I've no time to talk +to you. Kossuth has sent me for you post-haste. He wants you to come +at once. Are you ready?" + +"You're always in such haste, my dear Count. But when Kossuth commands, +you know my answer. I'm ready. It only needs to put on my hat." + +"On with it then, and come along with me!" + +From Portman Square to Saint John's Wood is but a step; and the two were +soon traversing the somewhat crooked causeway of South Bank. + +When close to Kossuth's residence they passed a man who stood, watch in +hand, under a street-lamp--as if trying to ascertain the time of night. + +They knew he was shamming, but said nothing; and went on, soon after +entering the house. + +Kossuth was within; and along with him several distinguished Hungarians. + +"Captain Maynard!" he exclaimed, stepping out of the circle, and +saluting his new-come guest. + +Then taking him aside, he said: + +"Look at this!" + +While speaking, he had placed a slip of paper in Maynard's hands. It +was written in cipher. + +"A telegram?" muttered the latter, seeing the hieroglyphics. + +"Yes," said Kossuth, proceeding to translate and explain them. "The +revolution has broken out in Milan. It is a rash affair, and, I fear, +will end in defeat--perhaps ruin. Mazzini has done it, in direct +opposition to my wishes and judgment Mazzini is too sanguine. So are +Turr and the others. They count on the Hungarian regiments stationed +there, with the influence of my name among them. Giuseppe has taken a +liberty with it, by using an old proclamation of mine, addressed to +those regiments, while I was still prisoner at Kutayah. He has put it +forth at Milan, only altering the date. I wouldn't so much blame him +for that, if I didn't believe it to be sheer madness. With so many +Austrians in the garrison at Milan--above all, those hireling Bohemian +regiments--I don't think there's a chance of our success." + +"What do _you_ intend doing, Governor?" + +"As to that, I have no choice. The game's begun, and I must take part +in it, _coute que coute_. This telegram is from my brave Turr, and he +thinks there's a hope. Whether or no, it will be necessary for me to go +to them." + +"You are going then?" + +"At once--if I can get there. Therein, my dear sir, lies the +difficulty. It is for that I have taken the liberty of sending for +you." + +"No liberty, Governor. What can I do for you?" + +"Thanks, dear captain! I shall waste no words, but say at once what I +want with you. The only way for me to get to Milan is through the +territory of France. I might go round by the Mediterranean; but that +would take time. I should be too late. Across France then must I go, +or not at all." + +"And what is to hinder you from travelling through France?" + +"Louis Napoleon." + +"True, he would--I need not have asked the question." + +"He'd be sure to place me under arrest, and keep me so, as long as my +liberty is deemed dangerous to the crowned conspirators. He has become +their most trusted tipstaff and detective. There's not one of his +_sergents-de-ville_ who has not got my portrait in his pocket. The only +chance left me, to run the gauntlet through France, is to travel in +disguise. It is for that I want _you_." + +"How can I assist you, my dear Governor?" + +"By making me your servant--your _valet du voyage_." Maynard could not +help smiling at the idea. The man who had held mastery over a whole +nation, who had created an army of two hundred thousand men, who had +caused trembling throughout the thrones of Europe--that man to be +obsequiously waiting upon him, brushing his coat, handing him his hat, +and packing his portmanteau! + +"Before you make answer," continued the ex-Dictator of Hungary, "let me +tell you all. If taken in France, you will have to share my prison; if +upon Austrian territory, your neck, like my own, will be in danger of a +halter. Now, sir, do you consent?" It was some seconds before Maynard +made reply; though it was not the halter that hindered him. He was +thinking of many other things--among them Blanche Vernon. + +Perhaps but for the reminiscence of that scene under the _deodara_, and +its results, he might have hesitated longer--have even turned recreant +to the cause of revolutionary liberty! + +Its memory but stimulated him to fresh efforts for freedom, and without +staying longer, he simply said: "I consent?" + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTY THREE. + +PURCHASING A PASSPORT. + +Twenty-four hours must elapse before Kossuth and his companion--or +rather Captain Maynard and his servant--could set out on their perilous +expedition. + +It was of rigorous necessity that a passport should be obtained--either +from the consular agent of France, or the British Foreign Office; and +for this purpose daylight would be needed--in other words, it could not +be had before the next day. + +Kossuth chafed at the delay; and so, too, his new master--cursing, not +for the first time, the vile system of passports. + +Little thought either, that this delay was a fortunate thing for them--a +circumstance to which they were perhaps indebted for the saving of their +lives! + +Maynard preferred taking out the passport from the French consular +agency. This, on account of less trouble and greater despatch, the +British Foreign Office, in true red tape style, requiring the applicant +to be _known_! Several days are often consumed before John Bull, going +abroad, can coax his minister to grant him the scrap of paper necessary +to his protection! + +He must be first endorsed, by a banker, clergyman, or some other of the +noted respectabilities of the land! John's master don't encourage +vagabondage. + +The French passport agent is more accommodating. The meagre emolument +of his office makes the cash perquisite a consideration. For this +reason the service is readily rendered. + +Maynard, however, did not obtain the document without some difficulty. +There was the question of his servant, who ought to have been there +along with him! + +The flunkey must present himself in _propria persona_! in order that his +description should be correctly given upon the passport. + +So said the French functionary in a tone of cold formality that seemed +to forbid expostulation! + +Although Maynard knew, that by this time, the noble Magyar had +sacrificed his splendid beard, his fine face was too well-known about +London to escape recognition in the streets. Especially would it be in +danger of identification in the French consular office, King William +Street, either by the passport agent himself or the half-score of +lynx-eyed spies always hanging around it. + +Kossuth's countenance could never be passed off for the visage of a +valet! + +But Maynard thought of a way to get over the difficulty. It was +suggested by the seedy coat, and hungry look, of the French official. + +"It will be very inconvenient," he said. "I live in the West End, full +five miles off. It's a long way to go, and merely to drag my servant +back with me. I'd give a couple of sovereigns to be spared the +trouble." + +"I'm sorry," rejoined the agent, all at once becoming wonderfully civil +to the man who seemed to care so little for a couple of sovereigns. +"It's the regulation, as monsieur must know. But--if monsieur--" + +The man paused, permitting the "but" to have effect. + +"You would greatly oblige by saving me the necessity--" + +"Could monsieur give an exact description of his servant?" + +"From head to foot." + +"_Tres bien_! Perhaps that will be sufficient." Without farther +parley, a word-painting of the ex-dictator of Hungary was done upon +stamped paper. + +It was a full-length portrait, giving his height, age, the hue of his +hair, the colour of his skin, and the capacity in which he was to serve. + +From the written description, not a bad sort of body-servant should be +"James Dawkins." + +[This is an actual fact. I still have in my possession the passport. +E.R.] + +"Exceedingly obliged, monsieur!" said Maynard, receiving the sheet from +the agent, at the same time slipping into the hand that gave it a couple +of shining sovereigns. Then adding, "Your politeness has saved me a +world of trouble," he hastened out of the office, leaving the Frenchman +in a state of satisfied surprise with a grimace upon his countenance +that only a true son of Gaul can give. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +Early in the afternoon of that same day, master and man were quite ready +to start. + +The portmanteaus were packed, their travelling gear arranged, and +tickets had been secured for the night mail, via Dover and Calais. + +They only waited for the hour of its departure from London. + +It was a singular conclave--that assembled in one of the rooms of +Kossuth's residence in Saint John's Wood. + +It consisted of eight individuals; every one of whom bore a title either +hereditary or honourably acquired. + +All were names well-known, most of them highly distinguished. Two were +counts of Hungary, of its noblest blood--one a baron of the same +kingdom; while three were general officers, each of whom had commanded a +_corps d'armee_. + +The seventh, and lowest in rank, was a simple captain--Maynard himself. + +And the eighth--who was he? + +A man dressed in the costume of a valet, holding in his hand a cockaded +hat, as if about to take departure from the place. + +It was curious to observe the others as they sate or stood around this +semblance of a lacquey; counts, barons, and generals, all like him, hats +in hand; not like him intending departure. They were only uncovered out +of respect! + +They talked with him in a tone not obsequious, though still in the way +one speaks to a superior; while his answers were received with a +deference that spoke of the truest esteem! + +If there ever was proof of a man's greatness, it is when his associates +in prosperity honour him alike in the hour of his adversity. + +And such was the case with the ex-dictator of Hungary, for it is scarce +necessary to say that the disguised valet was Kossuth. + +Even in those dark dreary hours of his exile, when his cause seemed +hopeless, and the cold world frowned scornfully upon him, he might be +seen surrounded, not by a circle of needy sycophants, but the noblest +blood of Hungary, all deferent, all with hats in hand, honouring him as +in that hour when the destinies of their beloved country, as their own, +were swayed by his will! + +The writer of this tale has witnessed such a scene, and regards it as +the grandest triumph of mind over matter, of truth over charlatanism, +that ever came under his eyes. + +The men now assembled around him were all in the secret of Kossuth's +design. They had heard of the insurrectionary rising at Milan. It was +the subject of their conversation; and most of them, like Kossuth +himself, were making ready to take part in the movement. + +Most, too, like him, believed it to be an imprudent step on the part of +Mazzini--for it was Mazzini who was citing it. Some of them pronounced +it madness! + +The night was a dark one, and favourable for taking departure. It +needed this; for they knew of the spies that were upon them. + +But Maynard had taken precautions to elude the vigilance of these cur +dogs of despotism. + +He had designed a _ruse_ that could not be otherwise than successful. +There were two sets of portmanteaus--one empty, to leave Kossuth's house +in the cab that carried the captain and his servant. This was to draw +up at the north entrance of the Burlington Arcade, and remain there +until its hirers should return from some errand to the shops of that +fashionable promenade. + +At the Piccadilly entrance another hansom would be found, holding the +real luggage of the travellers, which had been transported the night +before to the residence of the soldier-author. + +They would be sharp detectives whom this scheme would not outwit. + +Cunning as it was, it was never carried out. Thank God it was not! + +From what became known afterward, both Kossuth and Captain Maynard might +well repeat the thanksgiving speech. + +Had they succeeded in running the gauntlet of the English spies, it +would have been but a baneful triumph. In less than twenty hours after, +they would have been both inside a French prison--Kossuth to be +transferred to a more dangerous dungeon in Austria; his pretended +master, perhaps, to pine long in his cell, before the flag of his +country would be again extended for his extradition. + +They did not enter upon the attempt; not even so far as getting into the +cab that stood waiting at Kossuth's gate. Before this preliminary step +was taken, a man rushing into the house prevented their leaving it. + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTY FOUR. + +A SHAM INSURRECTION. + +It was Count Roseveldt who caused the change of programme, of which an +explanation is needed. + +Shortly before, the Count, forming one of the circle around Kossuth, had +slipped quietly away from it--sent forth by Kossuth himself to +reconnoitre the ground. + +His knowledge of London life--for he had long lived there--caused him to +be thus chosen. + +The object was to discover how the spies were placed. + +The dark night favoured him; and knowing that the spies themselves loved +darkness, he sauntered toward a spot where he supposed they might be +found. + +He had not been long in it, when voices in conversation admonished him +that men were near. He saw two of them. + +They were approaching the place where he stood. + +A garden gate, flanked by a pair of massive piers, formed a niche, dark +as the portals of Pluto. + +Into this the Count retreated; drawing himself into the smallest +dimensions of which his carcase was capable. + +A fog, almost palpable to the feel, assisted in screening him. + +The two men came along; and, as good luck would have it, stopped nearly +in front of the gate. + +They were still talking, and continued to talk, loud enough for +Roseveldt to hear them. + +He did not know who they were; but their conversation soon told him. +They were the spies who occupied the house opposite Kossuth--the very +individuals he had sallied forth in search of. + +The obscurity of the night hindered him from having a view of their +faces. He could only make out two figures, indistinctly traceable +through the filmy envelope of the fog. + +But it mattered not. He had never seen these spies, and was, therefore, +unacquainted with their personal appearance. Enough to hear what they +were saying. + +And he heard sufficient for his purpose--sufficient to keep him silent +till they were gone; and then bring him back with an excited air into +the circle from which he had late parted. + +He burst into the room with a speech that caused astonishment--almost +consternation! + +"You must not go, Governor?" were the words that proceeded from his +lips. + +"Why?" asked Kossuth, in surprise, the question echoed by all. + +"_Mein Gott_!" responded the Austrian. "I've learnt a strange tale +since I left you." + +"What tale?" + +"A tale about this rising in Milan. Is there on the earth a man so +infamous as to believe it?" + +"Explain yourself, Count!" + +It was the appeal of all present. + +"Have patience, gentlemen! You'll need it all, after hearing me." + +"Go on!" + +"I found there _forbans_, as we expected. Two of them were in the +street, talking. I had concealed myself in the shadow of a gateway; +opposite which the scoundrels shortly after came to a stand. They did +not see me; but I saw them, and, what's better, heard them. And what do +you suppose I heard? _Peste_! you won't one of you believe it!" + +"Tell us, and try!" + +"That the rising in Milan is a sham--a decoy to entrap the noble +Governor here, and others of us into the toils of Austria. It has been +got up for no other purpose--so said one of these spies to the other, +giving the source whence he had his information." + +"Who?" + +"His employer, Lord --." + +Kossuth started. So did his companions; for the information, though +strange to them, was not by any means incredible. + +"Yes?" continued Roseveldt; "there can be no doubt of what I tell you. +The spy who communicated it to his fellow gave facts and dates, which he +must have derived from a certain source; and for my own part I was +already under the belief that the thing looked like it. I know the +strength of those Bohemian regiments. Besides there are the Tyrolese +sharpshooters--true body-guards of a tyrant. There could have been no +chance for us, whatever Guiseppe Mazzini may think of it. It's +certainly intended for a trap; and we must not fall into it. You will +not go, Governor?" + +Kossuth looked around the circle, and then more particularly at Maynard. + +"Do not consult me," said the soldier-author. "I am still ready to take +you." + +"And you are quite sure you heard this?" asked the ex-Governor, once +more turning to Roseveldt. + +"Sure, your Excellency. I've heard it plain as words could speak. They +are yet buzzing in my ears, as if they would burn them?" + +"What do you say, gentlemen?" asked Kossuth, scrutinising the +countenances of those around him. "Are we to believe in an infamy so +atrocious?" + +Before reply could be made, a ring at the gate-bell interrupted their +deliberations. + +The door opened, admitting a man who came directly into the room where +the revolutionists were assembled. + +All knew him as Colonel Ihasz, the friend and adjutant of Kossuth. + +Without saying a word, he placed a slip of paper in the ex-Governor's +hands. + +All could see it was the transcript of a telegraphic message. + +It was in a cipher; of which Kossuth alone had the key. + +In sad tone, and with trembling voice, he translated it to a circle sad +as himself: + +"_The rising has proved only an `emeute.' There has been treachery +behind it. The Hungarian regiments were this morning disarmed. Scores +of the poor fellows are being shot. Afazzini, myself, and others, are +likely to share the same fate, unless some miraculous chance turns up in +our favour. We are surrounded on all sides; and am scant escape. For +deliverance must trust to the God of liberty_. + +"Turr." + +Kossuth staggered to a seat. He seemed as though he would have fallen +on the floor! + +"I too invoke the God of Liberty!" he cried, once more starting to his +feet, after having a little recovered himself. "Can He permit such men +as these to be sacrificed on the altar of Despotism?--Mazzini, and still +more, chivalrous Turr--the bravest, the best, the handsomest of my +officers?" + +No man, who ever saw General Turr, would care to question the eulogy +thus bestowed upon him. And his deeds done since speak its +justification. + +The report of Roseveldt had but foreshadowed the terrible disaster, +confirmed by the telegraphic despatch. + +The Count had spoken in good time. But for the delay occasioned by his +discovery, Kossuth and Captain Maynard would have been on their way to +Dover; too late to be warned--too late to be saved from passing their +next night as guests of Louis Napoleon--_in one of his prisons_! + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTY FIVE. + +A STATESMAN IN PRIVATE LIFE. + +Wrapped in a richly-embroidered dressing-gown, with tasselled cap set +jauntily on his head--his feet in striped silk stockings and red morocco +slippers--Swinton's noble patron was seated in his library. + +He was alone: soothing his solitude with a cigar--one of the best brand, +from the _vuelta-de-abajo_. + +A cloud upon his brow told that his spirit was troubled. + +But it was only a slight ruffle, such as might spring from some +unpleasantness. It was regret for the escape of Louis Kossuth, from the +toils that had been set for him, and set according to his lordship's own +suggestions. + +His lordship, along with other crown-commissioned conspirators, had +expected much from the _emeute_ at Milan. With all their cunning had +they contrived that sham insurrection, in the hopes of getting within +their jailors' grasp the great leaders of the "nationalities." + +Their design was defeated by their own fears. It was a child whose +teeth were too well grown to endure long nursing; and, before it could +be brought to maturity, they were compelled to proclaim it a bastard. + +This was shown by their sudden disarming of the Hungarian regiments, and +the arrest of such of the compromised as had too rashly made appearance +upon the spot. + +There were shootings and hangings--a hecatomb. But the victims were +among the less prominent men of revolutionary record; while the great +chiefs succeeded in making good their escape. + +Mazzini, the "untakeable," got clear in a manner almost miraculous; and +so too the gallant Turr. + +Thanks to the electric wires, whose silent speech even kings cannot +control, Kossuth was spared the humiliation of imprisonment. + +It was the thought of this that shadowed the spirit of Swinton's patron, +as he sate reflecting upon the failure of the diabolical scheme. + +His antipathy to the Magyar chief was twofold. He hated him +diplomatically, as one whose doctrines were dangerous to the "divine +right" of kings. But he had also a private spite against him; arising +from a matter of a more personal kind. For words uttered by him of an +offensive nature, as for acts done in connection with his employment of +the spies, Kossuth had called him to account, demanding retraction. The +demand was made in a private note, borne by a personage too powerful to +be slighted. And it elicited a reluctant but still truckling apology. + +There were not many who knew of this episode in the life of the +ex-dictator of Hungary, so humiliating to the nobleman in question. But +it is remembered by this writer; and was by his lordship, with +bitterness, till the day of his death. + +That morning he remembered it more bitterly than ever; for he had failed +in his scheme of revenge, and Kossuth was still unharmed. + +There was the usual inspiration given to the newspapers, and the +customary outpouring of abuse upon the head of the illustrious exile. + +He was vilified as a disturber, who dared not show himself on the scene +of disturbance; but promoted it from his safe asylum in England. He was +called a "revolutionary assassin!" + +For a time there was a cloud upon his name, but not for long. To defend +him once more appeared Maynard with his trenchant pen. He knew, and +could tell the truth. + +He _did_ tell it, hurling back his taunt upon the anonymous slanderer, +by styling him the "assassin of the desk." + +In fine, Kossuth's character came out, not only unscathed, but, in the +eyes of all true men, stood clearer than ever. + +It was this that chafed the vindictive spirit of his lordship, as he +sate smoking an "emperor." + +The influence of the nicotian weed seemed gradually to tranquillise him, +and the shadow disappeared from his brow. + +And he had solace from another source--from reflection on a triumph +achieved; not in the fields of diplomacy or war, but the court of Cupid. +He was thinking of the many facile conquests he had made--consoling +himself with the thought, that old age has its compensation, in fame, +money, and power. + +More particularly was his mind dwelling on his newest and latest +_amourette_, with the wife of his _protege_, Swinton. He had reason to +think it a success; and attributing this to his own powers of +fascination--in which he still fancifully believed--he continued to puff +away at his cigar in a state of dreamy contentment. + +It was a rude disturber to his Sardanapalian train of thought, as a +footman gliding into the room, placed a card in his hand that carried +the name of "Swinton." + +"Where is he?" was the question curtly put to the servant. +"Drawin'-room, your ludship." + +"You should not have shown him there, till you'd learnt whether it was +convenient for me to receive him." + +"Pardon, your ludship. He walked right in 'ithout bein' asked--sayin' +he wished very partickler to speak with your ludship." + +"Show him in here, then?" The flunkey made obeisance, and withdrew. +"What can Swinton want now? I have no business with him to-day; nor any +more, for that matter, if I could conveniently get rid of him. Walked +straight in without being asked! And wishes particularly to speak with +me! Rather cool that!" + +His lordship was not quite cool himself, while making the reflection. +On the contrary, a sudden pallor had shown itself on his cheeks, with a +whiteness around the lips, as when a man is under the influence of some +secret apprehension. + +"I wonder if the fellow has any suspicion--" + +His lordship's reflection was stayed by the entrance of the "fellow" +himself. + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTY SIX. + +A MODEST DEMAND. + +The aspect of his _protege_, as he stepped inside the room, was anything +but reassuring to the sexagenarian deceiver. + +On the contrary, his pale cheeks became paler, his white lips whiter. +There was something in the ex-guardsman's eye and air that bespoke a man +having a grievance! + +More than that, a man determined on its being righted. Nor could his +lordship mistake that it was against himself. The bold, almost +bullying, attitude of his visitor, so different from that hitherto held +by him, showed that, whatever might be his suit, it was not to be +pressed with humility. + +"What is it, my dear Swinton?" asked his scared patron, in a tone of +pretended conciliation. "Is there anything I can do for you to-day? +Have you any business?" + +"I have; and a very disagreeable business at that." In the reply, "his +lordship" did not fail to remark the discourteous omission of his title. + +"Indeed?" he exclaimed, without pretending to notice it. "Disagreeable +business? With whom?" + +"With yourself, my lord." + +"Ah! you surprise--I do not understand you, Mr Swinton." + +"Your lordship will, when I mention a little circumstance that occurred +last Friday afternoon. It was in a street south side of Leicester +Square." It was as much as his lordship could do to retain his seat. +He might as well have risen; since the start he gave, on hearing the +name, told that he knew all about the "little circumstance." + +"Sir--Mr Swinton! I do not comprehend you!" + +"You do--perfectly?" was Swinton's reply, once more disrespectfully +omitting the title. "You _should_ know," he continued, "since you were +in that same street, at the same time." + +"I deny it." + +"No use denying it. I chanced to be there myself, and saw you. And, +although your lordship did keep your lordship's face well turned away, +there can be no difficulty in swearing to it--neither on my part nor +that of the gentleman who chanced to be along with me; and who knows +your lordship quite as well as I." + +There was title enough in this speech, but coupled with too much +sarcasm. + +"And what if I was in--Street at the time you say?" demanded the accused +in a tone of mock defiance. + +"Not much in that.--Street's as free to your lordship as to any other +man. A little more free, I suspect. But then, your lordship was seen +to come out of a certain house in that respectable locality, followed by +a lady whom I have also good reason to know, and can certainly swear to. +So can the friend who was with me." + +"I cannot help ladies following me out of houses. The thing; I presume, +was purely accidental." + +"But not accidental her going in along with you--especially as your +lordship had shown her the courtesy to hand her out of a cab, after +riding some way through the streets with her! Come, my lord, it's of no +use your endeavouring to deny it. Subterfuge will not serve you. I've +been witness to my own dishonour, as have several others besides. I +seek reparation." + +If all the thrones in Europe had been at that moment tumbling about his +ears, the arch-conspirator of crowned heads would not have been more +stunned by the _delabrement_. Like his celebrated prototype, he cared +not that after him came the deluge; but a deluge was now threatening +himself--a deep, damning inundation, that might engulf not only a large +portion of his fortune, but a large measure of his fame! + +He was all the more frightened, because both had already suffered from a +shock somewhat similar. + +He knew himself guilty, _and that it could be proved_! + +He saw how idle would be the attempt to justify himself. He had no +alternative but to submit to Swinton's terms; and he only hoped that +these, however onerous, might be obtained without exposure. + +The pause that had occurred in the conversation was positively agonising +to him. It was like taking the vulture from his liver, when Swinton +spoke again, in a tone that promised _compromise_. + +"My lord," he said, "I feel that I am a dishonoured man. But I'm a poor +man, and cannot afford to go to law with your lordship." + +"Why should you, Mr Swinton?" asked the nobleman, hastily catching at +the straw thus thrown out to him. "I assure you it is all a mistake. +You have been deceived by appearances. I had my reasons for holding a +private conversation with the lady you suspect; and I could not just at +the moment think of anywhere else to go." + +It was a poor pretence; and Swinton received it with a sneer. His +lordship did not expect otherwise. He was but speaking to give his +abused _protege_ a chance of swallowing the dishonour. + +"You're the last man in the world," he continued, "with whom I should +wish to have a misunderstanding. I'd do anything to avoid it; and if +there be any service I may render you, name it. Can you think of +anything I may do?" + +"I can, my lord." + +"What is it you would wish?" + +"A title. Your lordship can bestow it?" This time the nobleman started +right out of his chair, and stood with eyes staring, and lips aghast. +"You are mad, Mr Swinton!" + +"I am not mad, my lord! I mean what I say." + +"Why, sir, to procure you a title would create a scandal that might cost +me my reputation. The thing's not to be thought of. Such honours are +only bestowed upon--" + +"Upon those who do just such services as I. All stuff, my lord, to talk +of distinguished services to the State. I suppose that's what you were +going to say. It may do very well for the ears of the unwashed; but it +has no meaning in mine. If merit were the means of arriving at such +distinction, we'd never have heard of such patents of nobility as Lord +B--, and the Earl of C--, and Sir H. N--, and some threescore others I +could quote. Why, my lord, it's the very absence of merit that gave +these gentlemen the right to be written about by Burke. And look at +Burke himself, made `Sir Bernard' for being but the chronicler of your +heraldry. Pretty, pretty service to the State, that is! I'm sure I've +as good right as he." + +"I don't deny that, Mr Swinton. But you know it's not a question of +right, but expediency." + +"So be it, my lord. Mine is just such a case." + +"I tell you I dare not do it." + +"And I tell you, you dare! Your lordship may do almost anything. The +British public believe you have both the power and the right, even to +make the laws of the land. You've taught them to think so; and they +know no better. Besides, you are at this moment so popular. They think +you perfection!" + +"Notwithstanding that," rejoined his lordship, without noticing the +sneer, "I dare not do what you wish. What! get you a tide! I might as +well talk about dethroning the queen, and proclaiming you king in her +stead." + +"Ha! ha! I don't expect any honour quite so high as that I don't want +it, your lordship. Crowns, they say, make heads uneasy. I'm a man of +moderate aspirations. I should be contented with a coronet." + +"Madness, Mr Swinton!" + +"Well; if you can't make me a lord like yourself, it's within bounds for +me to expect a baronetcy. I'll even be content with simple knighthood. +Surely your lordship can get me that?" + +"Impossible!" exclaimed the patron, in an agony of vexation. "Is there +nothing else you can think of? A post--an office?" + +"I'm not fit for either. I don't want them. Nothing less than the +title, my lord." + +"It's only a title you want?" asked the nobleman, after a pause, and as +if suddenly impressed with some idea that promised to serve him. "You +say you're not particular? Would that of a Count satisfy you?" + +"How could your lordship procure that? There are no Counts in England?" + +"But there are in France." + +"I know it--a good many of them; more than have means to support the +titles." + +"Never mind the means. The title will secure them to a man of your +talents. You may be one of the number. A French Count is still a +Count. Surely that title would suit you?" + +Swinton seemed to reflect. + +"Perhaps it would. You think your lordship could obtain it for me?" + +"I am sure of it. He who has the power to bestow such distinctions is +my intimate personal friend. I need not tell you it is France's ruler." + +"I know it, my lord." + +"Well, Mr Swinton; say that a French countship will satisfy you, and +you shall have it within a week. In less time, if you choose to go to +Paris yourself." + +"My lord, I shall be too glad to make the journey." + +"Enough, then. Call upon me to-morrow. I shall have a letter prepared +that will introduce you, not only to the Emperor of France, but into the +ranks of France's nobility. Come at ten o'clock." + +It is scarce necessary to say that Swinton was punctual to the +appointment; and on that same day, with a heart full of rejoicing, made +the journey from Park Lane to Paris. + +Equally delighted was his patron at having secured condonation at such a +cheap rate, for what might otherwise have proved not only a costly case +but a ruinous scandal. + +In less than a week from this time, Swinton crossed the threshold of the +South Bank Villa, with a patent of countship in his pocket. + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTY SEVEN. + +THE COUNT DE VALMY. + +If ever Mrs Girdwood had a surprise in her life, it was when Mr +Swinton called at the Clarendon Hotel, and asked if she and her girls +would accept an invitation to a reception at Lord --'s. + +The entertainment was at the residence in Park Lane. The storekeeper's +widow gave her consent, without consulting her girls; and the invitation +came on a sheet of tinted paper, bearing the well-known crest. + +Mrs Girdwood went to the reception, the girls along with her; Julia +carrying twenty thousand dollars' worth of diamonds upon her head and +shoulders. + +Otherwise they were as well-dressed as any British damsel who presented +herself in his lordship's drawing-rooms; and among these were the +noblest in the land. + +So far as appearance went, the American ladies had no need to be ashamed +of the gentleman who escorted them. Though to them but plain Mr +Swinton, Mrs Girdwood was subjected to a fresh shock of surprise, when +the noble host, coming up to the group, accosted him as "My dear Count," +and begged an introduction to his companions. + +It was gracefully given; and now for the first time in her life was Mrs +Girdwood certain of being surrounded by true titled aristocracy. + +There could be no deception about the people of that party, who were of +all ranks known to "Burke's British Peerage." Nor could there be any +doubt now, that Mr Swinton _was_ a "somebody." + +"A count he is, and no mistake!" was Mrs Girdwood's muttered soliloquy. +"He isn't a lord; he never said he was one. But a count's the same +thing, or the next to it. + +"Besides, there are counts with great estates--far greater than some +lords. Haven't we heard so?" + +The question was in a side whisper to Julia, after all three had been +introduced to their august entertainer. + +Just then Julia had no opportunity of making answer to it, for the noble +host, whose guests they were, was so condescending as to chat with her; +and continued chatting such a long time, that the Count appeared to be +getting jealous of him! As if observing this, his lordship withdrew, to +extend a like courtesy to the twenty other beautiful young damsels who +graced the reception,--leaving the Girdwood group to their own and their +Count's guidance for the remainder of the evening. + +Receptions do not last more than a couple of hours, beginning at ten and +breaking up about twelve, with light refreshments of the "kettle-drum" +kind, that serve, very unsatisfactorily, for supper. + +In consequence, the Count de Valmy (for such was Mr Swinton's title) +invited the ladies to a _petit souper_ of a more substantial kind, at +one of the snug refectories to be found a little farther along +Piccadilly. There, being joined by the other count--met by them at Mr +Swinton's dinner-table, and who on this occasion was unaccompanied by +his countess--they passed a pleasant hour or two, as is usually the case +at a _petit souper_. + +Even the gentle Cornelia enjoyed herself though not through the company +of the two counts. She had met a gentleman at the reception--a man old +enough to have been her father--but one of those noble natures with +which the heart of a young confiding girl readily sympathises. They had +chatted together. He had said some words to her, that made her forget +the disparity of years, and wish for more of his conversation. She had +given consent to his calling on her, and the thought of this hindered +her from feeling forsaken, even when the Count de Valmy confined his +attention to her cousin, and the married count made himself amiable to +her aunt! + +The Champagne and Moselle were both of best quality; and Mrs Girdwood +was induced to partake of both freely, as was also her daughter. + +The two counts were agreeable companions--but more especially he who had +so long passed as Mr Swinton, and who was no longer careful about +keeping up his _incognito_. + +It ended in Mrs Girdwood's heart warming towards him with the affection +of a mother; while Julia's became almost softened to that other +affection which promised to bestow upon her the title of "Countess." + +"What could be better, or prettier?" thought she, repeating the words of +her willing mother. A stylish countess, with a handsome count for +husband--dresses and diamonds, carriages and cash, to make the title +illustrious! + +Of the last the count himself appeared to have plenty; but whether or +no, her mother had given promise that it should not be wanting. + +And what a grand life it would be to give receptions herself--not only +in great London, but in the Fifth Avenue, New York! + +And then she could go back to Newport in the height of the fashionable +season; and how she could spite the J--'s, and the L--'s, and the B--'s; +make them envious to the tips of their fingers, by flaunting herself +before their faces as the "Countess de Valmy!" + +What if she did not love her count to distraction! She would not be the +first--not by millions--who had stifled the cherished yearnings of a +heart, and strained its tenderest chords, to submit to a marriage _de +convenance_! + +In this mood Swinton found her, when, under _his true and real name_, he +once more made his proposal. + +And she answered it by consenting to become the Countess de Valmy. + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTY EIGHT. + +CONTEMPLATING A CANAL. + +Swinton's triumph seemed complete. + +He already had a title, which no one could take from him--not even he +who had bestowed it. + +He possessed both the patent and parchments of nobility; and he intended +taking care of them. But he still wanted fortune; and this seemed now +before him. Julia Girdwood had consented to become his wife, with a +dower of 50,000 pounds, and the expectation of as many thousands more! + +It had been a rare run of luck, or rather a chapter of cunning--subtle +as fiendish. + +But it was not yet complete. The marriage remained to be solemnised. +And when solemnised, what then? + +The sequel was still in doubt, and full of darkness. It was darkened by +dangers, and fraught with fears. + +If Fan should prove untrue? True to herself but untrue to him? +Supposing her to become stirred with an instinct of opposition to this +last great dishonour, and forbid the banns? She might act so at the +eleventh hour; and then to him, disappointment, disgrace, ruin! + +But he had no great fear of this. He felt pretty sure she would +continue a consenting party, and permit his nefarious scheme to be +consummated. But then? And what then? + +She would hold over him a power he had reason to dread--a very sword of +Damocles! + +He would have to share with her the ill-gotten booty--he knew her well +enough for this--submit to her will in everything, for he knew also that +she had a will--now that she was re-established on the ride of Rotten +Row as one of its prettiest horse-breakers. + +There was something, beside the thought of Fan's reclaiming him, that +vexed him far more than the fear of any mulct. He would be willing to +bleed black-mail to any amount convenient--even to the half of Julia +Girdwood's fortune, to insure his past wife keeping quiet for ever. + +Strange to say, he had grown to care little for the money; though it may +not appear strange when the cause is declared. + +It will only seem so, considering the character of the man. Wicked as +Swinton was, he had fallen madly in love with Julia Girdwood--madly and +desperately. + +And now on the eve of possessing her, to hold that possession as by a +thread, that might be cut at any moment by caprice. + +And that caprice the will of an injured wife! No wonder the wretch saw +in his future a thorny entanglement--a path, if bestrewed with flowers, +beset also by death's-heads and skeletons! + +Fan had helped him in his scheme for acquiring an almost fabulous +fortune; at a touch she could destroy it. + +"By heaven! _she shall not_!" was the reflection that came forth from +his lips as he stood smoking a cigar, and speculating on the feared +future. Assisted in conception by that same cigar, and before it was +smoked to a stump, he had contrived a plan to secure him against his +wife's future interference in whatever way it might be exerted. + +His scheme of bigamy was scarce guilt, compared with that now begotten +in his brain. + +He was standing upon the edge of the canal, whose steep bank formed the +back inclosure of his garden. The tow-path was on the other side, so +that the aqueous chasm yawned almost directly under his feet. + +The sight of it was suggestive. He knew it was deep. He saw it was +turbid, and not likely to tell tales. + +There was a moon coursing through the sky. Her beams, here and there, +fell in bright blotches upon the water. They came slanting through the +shrubbery, showing that it was a young moon, and would soon go down. + +It was already dark where he stood in the shadow of a huge laurustinus; +but there was light enough to show that with a fiend's face he was +contemplating the canal. + +"It would do!" he muttered to himself; "but not _here_. The _thing_ +might be fished up again. Even if it could be made to appear suicide, +there'd be the chance of an identification and connection with me. More +than chance--a dead, damnable certainty. + +"That would be damnable! I should have to appear at a coroner's quest +to explain. + +"Bah! what use in speculating? Explanation, under the circumstances, +would be simply condemnation. + +"Impossible! The thing can't be done _here_! + +"But it _can_ be done," he continued; "and in this canal, too. It _has_ +been done, no doubt, many a time. Yes, silent sluggard! if you could +but speak, you might tell of many a plunge made into your sluggish +waves, alike by the living and the dead! + +"You will suit for my purpose; but not here. I know the place, the very +place--by the Park Road bridge. + +"And the time, too--late at night. Some dark night, when the spruce +tradesmen of Wellington Road have gone home to the bosom of their +families. + +"Why not this very night?" he asked himself, stepping nervously out from +the laurustinus, and glaring at the moon, whose thin crescent flickered +feebly through cumulus clouds. "Yonder farthing dip will be burnt out +within the hour, and if that sky don't deceive me, we'll have a night +dark as doom. A fog, too, by heavens!" he added, raising himself on +tiptoe, and making survey of the horizon to the east. "Yes! there's no +mistake about that dun cloud coming up from the Isle of Dogs, with the +colour of the Thames mud upon it. + +"Why not to-night?" he again asked himself, as if by the question to +strengthen him in his terrible resolve. "The thing can't wait. A day +may spoil everything. If it is to be done, the sooner the better. _It +must be done_! + +"Yes, yes; there's fog coming over that sky, if I know aught of London +weather. It will be on before midnight God grant it may stay till the +morning!" + +The prayer passing from his lips, in connection with the horrid scheme +in his thoughts, gave an expression to his countenance truly diabolical. + +Even his wife, used to see the "ugly" in his face, could not help +noticing it, as he went back into the house--where she had been waiting +for him to go out for a walk. + +It was a walk to the Haymarket, to enjoy the luxuries of a set supper in +the Cafe d'Europe, where the "other count," with the Honourable +Geraldine, and one or two friends of similar social standing, had made +appointment to meet them. + +It was not the last promenade Swinton intended to take with his beloved +Fan. Before reaching the Haymarket, he had planned another for that +same night, _if it should prove to be a dark one_. + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTY NINE. + +A PETIT SOUPER. + +The supper was provided by "Kate the coper," who had lately been "in +luck"; having netted handsomely on one of her steeds, sold to a young +"spoon" she had recently picked up, and who was one of the party. + +The "coped" individual was no other than our old friend Frank Scudamore, +who, by the absence of his cousin abroad, and her benign influence over +him, had of late taken to courses of dissipation. + +The supper given by Kate was a sort of return to her friend Fan for the +dinner at the McTavish villa; and in sumptuousness was a spread no way +inferior. + +In point of time it might have been termed a dinner; for it commenced at +the early hour of eight. + +This was to give opportunity for a quiet rubber of whist to be played +afterward, and in which "Spooney," as she called young Scudamore--though +not to his face--was expected to be one of the corners. + +There was wine of every variety--each of the choicest to be found in the +cellars of the cafe. Then came the cards, and continued till Scudamore +declared himself cleared out; and then there was carousal. + +The mirth was kept up till the guests had got into that condition +jocularly called "How come you so?" + +It applied alike to male and female. Fan, the Honourable Geraldine, and +two other frail daughters of Eve, having indulged in the grape juice as +freely as their gentlemen fellow-revellers. + +At breaking up, but one of the party seemed firm upon his feet. This +was the Count de Valmy. + +It was not his habit to be hard-headed; but on this occasion he had +preserved himself, and for a purpose. + +Busy with their own imbibing, nobody noticed him secretly spilling his +liquor into the spittoon, while pretending to "drink fair." + +If they had, they might have wondered, but could not have guessed why. +The fiend himself could not have imagined his foul design in thus +dodging the drink. + +His gay friends, during the early part of the entertainment, had +observed his abstraction. The Honourable Geraldine had rallied him upon +it. But in due time all had become so mellow, and merry, that no one +believed any other could be troubled with depression of spirits. + +An outside spectator closely scrutinising the countenance of Mr Swinton +might have seen indications of such, as also on his part an effort to +conceal it His eyes seemed at times to turn inward, as if his thoughts +were there, or anywhere except with his roystering companions. + +He had even shown neglectful of his cards; although the pigeon to be +plucked was his adversary in the game. + +Some powerful or painful reflection must have been causing his +absent-mindedness; and it seemed a relief to him when, satiated with +carousal, the _convives_ gave tacit consent to a general _debandade_. + +There had been eight of the supper party, and four cabs, called to the +entrance door of the cafe, received them in assorted couples. + +It was as much as most of them could do to get inside; but aided by a +brace of Haymarket policemen, with a like number of waiters out of the +hotel, they were at length safely stowed, and the cabs drove off. + +Each driver obeyed the direction given him, Scudamore escorting home the +Honourable Geraldine, or rather the reverse; while Swinton, in charge of +his tipsy wife, gave his cabman the order-- + +"Up the Park Road to Saint John's Wood." + +It was spoken, not loudly, but in a low muttered voice, which led the +man to think they could not be a married couple. + +No matter, so long as he had his fare, along with a little perquisite, +which the gentleman gave him. + +Swinton's weather prophecy had proved true to a shade. The night was +dark as pitch, only of a dun colour on account of the fog. + +And this was so thick that late fashionables, riding home in their grand +carriages, were preceded each carriage by a pair of linkmen. + +Along Piccadilly and all through Mayfair, torches were glaring through +the thick vapour; the tongues of their bearers filling the streets with +jargon. + +Farther on across Oxford Street there were fewer of them; and beyond +Portman Square they ceased to be seen altogether--so that the cab, a +four-wheeler, containing the Count de Valmy and his countess, crept +slowly along Baker Street, its lamps illuminating a circle of scarce six +feet around it. + +"It will do," said Swinton to himself, craning his neck out of the +window, and scrutinising the night. + +He had made this reflection before, as, first of his party, he came out +on the steps of the Cafe d'Europe. + +He did not speak it aloud, though, for that matter, his wife would not +have heard him. Not even had he shouted it in her ear. She was asleep +in a corner of the cab. + +Before this she had been a "little noisy," singing snatches of a song, +and trying to repeat the words of an ambiguous _jeu d'esprit_ she had +heard that evening for the first time. + +She was now altogether unconscious of where she was, or in what +company--as proved by her occasionally waking up, calling out +"Spooney!"--addressing her husband as the _other_ count, and sometimes +as "Kate the coper!" + +Her own count appeared to be unusually careful of her. He took much +pains to keep her quiet; but more in making her comfortable. She had on +a long cloth cloak of ample dimensions--a sort of night wrapper. This +he adjusted over her shoulders, buttoning it close around her throat +that her chest should not be exposed to the fog. + +By the time the cab had crawled through Upper Baker Street, and entered +the Park Road, Fan had not only become quiet, but was at length sound +asleep; her tiny snore alone telling that she lived. + +On moved the vehicle through the dun darkness, magnified by the mist to +twice its ordinary size, and going slow and silent as a hearse. + +"Where?" asked the driver, slewing his body around, and speaking in +through the side window. + +"South Bank! You needn't go inside the street. Set us down at the end +of it, in the Park Road." + +"All right," rejoined the Jarvey, though not thinking so. He thought it +rather strange, that a gent with a lady in such queer condition should +desire to be discharged in that street at such an hour, and especially +on such a night! + +Still it admitted of an explanation, which his experience enabled him to +supply. The lady had stayed out a little too late. The gent wished her +to get housed without making a noise; and it would not do for cab wheels +to be heard drawing up by "the door." + +What mattered it to him, cabby, so long as the fare should be +forthcoming, and the thing made "square"? He liked it all the better, +as promising a perquisite. + +In this he was not disappointed. At the corner designated, the +gentleman got out, lifting his close muffled partner in his arms, and +holding her upright upon the pavement. + +With his spare hand he gave the driver a crown piece, which was more +than double his fare. + +After such largess, not wishing to appear impertinent, cabby climbed +back to his box; readjusted the manifold drab cape around his shoulders; +tightened his reins; touched the screw with his whip; and started back +towards the Haymarket, in hopes of picking up another intoxicated fare. + +"Hold on to my arm, Fan!" said Swinton to his helpless better half as +soon as the cabman was out of hearing. "Lean upon me. I'll keep you +up. So! Now, come along!" + +Fan made no reply. The alcohol overpowered her--now more than ever. +She was too tipsy to talk, even to walk; and her husband had to support +her whole weight, almost to drag her along. She was quite unconscious +whither. But Swinton knew. + +It was not along South Bank; they had passed the entrance of that quiet +thoroughfare, and were proceeding up the Park Road! + +And why? He also knew why. + +Under the Park Road passes the Regent's Canal, spanned by the bridge +already spoken of. You would only know you were crossing the canal by +observing a break in the shrubbery. This opens westward. On the east +side of the road is the park wall rising high overhead, and shadowed by +tall trees. + +Looking towards Paddington, you see an open list, caused by the canal +and its tow-path. The water yawns far below your feet, on both sides +draped with evergreens; and foot-passengers along the Park Road are +protected from straying over by a parapet scarce breast-high. + +Upon this bridge Swinton had arrived. He had stopped and stood close up +to the parapet, as if for a rest, his wife still clinging to his arm. + +He _was_ resting; but not with the intention to proceed farther. He was +recovering strength for an effort so hellish, that, had there been light +around them, he and his companion would have appeared as a _tableau +vivant_--the spectacle of a murderer about to despatch his victim! And +it would have been a tableau true to the life; for such in reality was +his design! + +There was no light to shine upon its execution; no eye to see him +suddenly let go his wife's arm, draw the wrapper round her neck, so that +the clasp came behind; and then, turning it inside out, fling the skirt +over her head! + +There could be no ear to hear that smothered cry, as, abruptly lifted in +his arms, she was pitched over the parapet of the bridge! Swinton did +not even himself stay to hear the plunge. He only heard it; +indistinctly blending with the sound of his own footsteps, as with +terrified tread he retreated along the Park Road! + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTY. + +ON THE TOW-ROPE. + +With difficulty cordelling his barge around the Regent's Park, Bill +Bootle, the canal boatman, was making slow speed. This because the fog +had thickened unexpectedly; and it was no easy matter to guide his old +horse along the tow-path. + +He would not have attempted it; but that he was next morning due in the +Paddington Basin; where, at an early hour, the owner of the boat would +be expecting him. + +Bill was only skipper of the craft; the crew consisting of his wife, and +a brace of young Bootles, one of them still at the breast. Mrs B, +wearing her husband's dreadnought to protect her from the raw air of the +night, stood by the tiller, while Bootle himself had charge of the +tow-horse. + +He had passed through the Park Road Bridge, and was groping his way +beyond, when a drift of the fog thicker than common came curling along +the canal, compelling him to make stop. + +The boat was still under the bridge; and Mrs Bootle, feeling that the +motion was suspended, had ceased working the spokes. Just at this +moment, both she and her husband heard a shuffling sound upon the bridge +above them; which was quick followed by a "swish," as of some bulky +object descending through the air! + +There was also a voice; but so smothered as to be almost inaudible! + +Before either had time to think of it, a mass came splashing down upon +the water, between the boat and the horse! + +It had struck the tow-rope; and with such force, that the old machiner, +tired after a long spell of pulling, was almost dragged backwards into +the canal. + +And frighted by the sudden jerk, it was as much as Bootle could do to +prevent him rushing forward, and going in head foremost. + +The difficulty in tranquillising the horse lay in the fact that the +tow-rope was still kept taut by some one who appeared to be struggling +upon it, and whose smothered cries could be heard coming up from the +disturbed surface of the water! + +The voice was not so choked, but that Bootle could tell it to be that of +a woman! + +The boatman's chivalrous instincts were at once aroused; and, dropping +the rein, he ran back a bit, and then sprang with a plunge into the +canal. + +It was so dark he could see nothing; but the half-stifled cries served +to guide him; and swimming towards the tow-rope, he discovered the +object of his search! + +It was a woman struggling in the water, and still upon its surface. + +She was prevented from sinking by her cloak, which had swished over on +one side of the tow-rope as her body fell upon the other. + +Moreover she had caught the rope in her hands, and was holding on to it +with the tenacious grasp of one who dreads drowning. + +The boatman could not see her face, which appeared to be buried within +the folds of a cloak! + +He did not stay to look for a face. Enough for him that there was a +body in danger of being drowned; and throwing one arm around it, with +the other he commenced "swarming" along the tow-rope in the direction of +the barge! + +Mrs B, who had long since forsaken the tiller, and was now "for'ard," +helped him and his burden aboard; which, examined by the light of the +canal-boat lantern, proved to be a very beautiful lady, dressed in rich +silk, with a gold watch in her waistbelt, and a diamond ring sparkling +upon her fingers! + +Mrs Bootle observed that beside this last, there was another ring of +plain appearance, but in her eyes of equal significance. It was the +hoop emblematic of Hymen. + +These things were only discovered after the saturated cloak had been +removed from the shoulders of the half-drowned woman; and who, but for +it and the tow-rope, would have been drowned altogether. + +"What is this?" asked the lady, gasping for breath, and looking wildly +around. "What is it, Dick? Where are you? Where am I? O God! It is +water! I'm wet all over. It has nearly suffocated me! Who are you, +sir? And you, woman; if you are a woman? Why did you throw me in? Is +it the river, or the Serpentine, or where?" + +"'Taint no river, mistress," said Mrs Bootle, a little nettled by the +doubt thrown upon her womanhood, "nor the Sarpentine neyther. It's the +Regent Canal. But who ha' pitched you into it, ye ought best to know +that yourself." + +"The Regent's Canal?" + +"Yes, missus," said Bootle, taking the title from his wife; "it's there +you've had your duckin'--just by the Park Road here. You come switching +over the bridge. Can't you tell who chucked you over? Or did ye do it +yerself?" + +The eyes of the rescued woman assumed a wandering expression, as if her +thoughts were straying back to some past scene. + +Then all at once a change came over her countenance, like one awaking +from a horrid dream, and not altogether comprehending the reality! + +For a moment she remained as if considering; and then all became clear +to her. + +"You have saved me from drowning," she said, leaning forward, and +grasping the boatman by the wrist. + +"Well, yes; I reckon you'd a-goed to the bottom, but for me, an' the old +tow-rope." + +"By the Park Road bridge, you say?" + +"It be right over ye--the boat's still under it." Another second or two +spent in reflection, and the lady again said: + +"Can I trust you to keep this a secret?" Bootle looked at his wife, and +Mrs B back at her husband, both inquiringly. + +"I have reasons for asking this favour," continued the lady, in a +trembling tone, which was due not altogether to the ducking. "It's no +use telling you what they are--not now. In time I may make them known +to you. Say you will keep it a secret?" + +Again Bootle looked interrogatively at his wife; and again Mrs B gave +back the glance. + +But this time an answer was secured in the affirmative, through an act +done by the rescued lady. + +Drawing the diamond ring off her finger, and taking the gold watch from +behind her waistbelt, she handed the first to the boatman's wife, and +the second to the boatman himself--telling both to keep them as tokens +of gratitude for the saving of her life! + +The gifts appeared sufficiently valuable, not only to cover the service +done, but that requested. With such glittering bribes in hand, it would +have been a strange boatman, and still stranger boatman's wife, who +would have refused to keep a secret, which could scarce compromise them. + +"One last request," said the lady. "Let me stay aboard your boat till +you can land me in Lisson Grove. You are going that way?" + +"We are, missus." + +"You will then call a cab for me from the stand. There's one in the +Grove Road, close up." + +"I'll do that for your ladyship in welcome." + +"Enough, sir. I hope some day to have an opportunity of showing you I +can be grateful." + +Bootle, still balancing the watch in his hand, thought she had shown +this already. + +Some of the service still remained to be done, and should be done +quickly. Leaving the lady with his wife, Bootle sprang back upon the +tow-path, and once more taking his old horse by the head, trained on +towards the Grove Road. + +Nearing its bridge, which terminates the long subterraneous passage to +Edgware Road, he again brought his barge to a stop, and went in search +of a cab. + +He soon came back with a four-wheeler; conducted the dripping lady into +it; said good-night to her; and then returned to his craft. + +But not till she he had rescued had taken note of his name, the number +of his boat, and every particular that might be necessary to the finding +him again! + +She did not tell him whither she was herself bound. + +She only communicated this to the cabman; who was directed to drive her +to a hotel, not far from the Haymarket. + +She was now sober enough to know, not only where she was, but whither +she was going! + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTY ONE. + +CONSENT AT LAST. + +Since our last visit to it, Vernon Hall had changed from gay to grave. + +Only in its interior. Outside, its fine facade presented the same +cheerful front to its park; the Corinthian columns of its portico looked +open and hospitable as ever. + +As ever, elegant equipages came and went; but only to draw up, and +remain for a moment in the sweep, while their occupants left cards, and +made inquiries. + +Inside there was silence. Servants glided about softly, or on tiptoe; +opened and closed the doors gently, speaking in subdued tones. + +It was a stillness, solemn and significant. It spoke of sickness in the +house. + +And there was sickness of the most serious kind--for it was known to be +the precursor of death. + +Sir George Vernon was dying. + +It was an old malady--a disease of that organ, to which tropical climes +are so fatal--in the East as in the West. + +And in both had the baronet been exposed; for part of his earlier life +had been spent in India. + +Induration had been long going on. It was complete, and pronounced +incurable. At the invalid's urgent request, the doctors had told him +the truth--warning him to prepare for death. + +His last tour upon the Continent--whither he had gone with his +daughter--had given the finishing blow to his strength; and he was now +home again, so enfeebled that he could no longer take a walk, even along +the soft, smooth turf of his own beautiful park. + +By day most of his time was spent upon a sofa in his library, where he +lay supported by pillows. + +He had gone abroad with Blanche, in the hope of weaning her from that +affection so freely confessed; and which had been ever since a sore +trouble to his spirit. + +How far he had succeeded might be learnt by looking in her sad +thoughtful face; once blithe and cheerful; by noting a pallor in her +cheek, erst red as the rose leaf; by listening to sighs, too painful to +be suppressed; and, above all, to a conversation that occurred between +her and her father not long after returning from that latest journey, +that was to be the last of his life. + +Sir George was in his library reclining, as was his wont. The sofa had +been wheeled up to the window, that he might enjoy the charm of a +splendid sunset: for it was a window facing west. + +Blanche was beside him; though no words were passing between them. +Having finished adjusting his pillow, she had taken a seat near the foot +of the sofa, her eyes, like his, fixed on the far sunset--flushing the +horizon with strata-clouds of crimson, purple, and gold. + +It was mid-winter; but among the sheltered copses of Vernon Park there +was slight sign of the season. With a shrubbery whose foliage never +fell, and a grass ever green, the grounds immediately around the mansion +might have passed for a picture of spring. + +And there was bird music, the spring's fit concomitant: the chaffinch +chattering upon the taller trees, the blackbird with flutelike note +fluttering low among laurels and laurustines, and the robin nearer the +window warbling his sweet simple lay. + +Here and there a bright-plumed pheasant might be seen shooting from +copse to copse; or a hare, scared from her form, dashing down into the +covert of the dale. Farther off on the pastures of the park could be +seen sleek kine consorting with the antlered stag, both browsing +tranquil and undisturbed. It was a fair prospect to look upon; and it +should have been fairer in the eyes of one who was its proprietor. + +But not so Sir George Vernon, who might fancy that he was looking at it +for the last time. The thought could not fail to inspire painful +reflections; and into a train of such had he fallen. + +They took the shape of an inquiry: who was to succeed him in that fair +inheritance, handed down from a long line of distinguished ancestors? + +His daughter Blanche was to be his inheritor--since he had no son, no +other child; and the entail of the estate ended with himself. + +But Blanche might not long bear his name; and what other was she to +bear? What escutcheon was to become quartered upon that of the Vernons? + +He thought of Scudamore; he had been long thinking of it, hoping, +wishing it; but now, in the hours darkened by approaching death, he had +doubts whether this union of armorial bearings would ever be. + +In earlier days he had resolved on its being so, and up to a late +period. He had spoken of compulsion, such as he held by testamentary +powers. He had even hinted it to Blanche herself. He had made +discovery how idle such a course would be; and on this he was now +reflecting. He might as well have thought of commanding yonder sun to +cease from its setting, yonder stag to lay aside its grandeur, or the +birds their soft beauty. You may soften an antipathy, but you cannot +kill it; and, obedient child though she was, not even her father's will, +not all the powers upon earth, could have removed from Blanche Vernon's +mind the antipathy she had conceived for her cousin Scudamore. + +In the same way you may thwart an affection, but not destroy it; and a +similar influence would not have sufficed to chase from Blanche Vernon's +mind the memory of Captain Maynard. His image was still upon her heart, +fresh as the first impression--fresh as in that hour when she stood +holding his hand under the shade of the _deodara_! Her father appeared +to know all this. If not, her pale cheek, day by day growing paler, +should have admonished him. But he did know, or suspected it; and the +time had come for him to be certain. + +"Blanche!" he said, turning round, and tenderly gazing in her face. + +"Father?" She pronounced the word interrogatively, thinking it was some +request for service to the invalid. But she started as she met his +glance. It meant something more! + +"My daughter," he said, "I shall not be much longer with you." + +"Dear father! do not say so!" + +"It is true, Blanche. The doctors tell me I am dying; and I know it +myself." + +"O father! dear father!" she exclaimed, springing forward from her seat, +falling upon her knees beside the sofa, and covering his face with her +tresses and tears. + +"Do not weep, my child! However painful to think of it, these things +must be. It is the fate of all to leave this world; and I could not +hope to be exempted. It is but going to a better, where God Himself +will be with us, and where we are told there is no more weeping. Come, +child! compose yourself. Return to your seat, and listen; for I have +something to say to you." + +Sobbingly she obeyed--sobbing as though her heart would break. + +"When I'm gone," he continued, after she had become a little calmer, +"you, my daughter, will succeed to my estates. They are not of great +value; for I regret to say there is a considerable mortgage upon them. +Still, after all is paid off there will be a residue--sufficient for +your maintenance in the position to which you have been accustomed." + +"Oh, father I do not speak of these things. It pains me!" + +"But I must, Blanche; I must. It is necessary you should be made +acquainted with them; and necessary, too, that _I_ should know--" + +What was it necessary he should know? He had paused, as if afraid to +declare it. + +"What, papa?" asked she, looking interrogatively in his face, at the +same time that a blush, rising upon her cheek, told she half divined it. + +"What should you know?" + +"My dear daughter!" he rejoined, shunning a direct answer. "It is but +reasonable to suppose you will be some day changing your name. I should +be unhappy to leave the world, thinking you would not; and I could leave +it all the happier to think you will change it for one worthy of being +adopted by the daughter of a Vernon--one borne by a man deserving to be +my son!" + +"Dear father?" cried she, once more sobbing spasmodically, "pray do not +speak to me of this! I know whom you mean. Yes; I know it, I know it. +O father, it can never be!" + +She was thinking of the name Scudamore; and that it could never be here! + +"Perhaps you are mistaken, my child. Perhaps I did not mean any name in +particular." + +Her grand blue eyes, deeper blue under their bedewing of tears, turned +inquiringly upon her father's face. + +She said nothing; but seemed waiting for him to further explain himself. + +"My daughter," he said, "I think I can guess what you meant by your last +speech. You object to the name Scudamore? Is it not so?" + +"Sooner than bear it, I shall be for ever content to keep my own-- +yours--throughout all my life. Dear father! I shall do anything to +obey you--even this. Oh! you will not compel me to an act that would +make me for ever unhappy? I do not, cannot love Frank Scudamore; and +without love how could I--how could he--" + +The womanly instinct which had been guiding the young girl seemed +suddenly to forsake her. The interrogatory ended in a convulsive sob; +and once more she was weeping. + +Sir George could no longer restrain his tears, nor expression of the +sympathy from whence they proceeded. + +Averting his face upon the pillow, he wept wildly as she. + +Sorrow cannot endure for ever. The purest and most poignant grief must +in time come to an end. + +And the dying man knew of a solace, not only to himself, but to his +dear, noble daughter--dearer and nobler from the sacrifice he had +declared herself willing to make for him. + +His views about her future had been for some time undergoing a change. +The gloom of the grave, to one who knows he is hastening towards it, +casts its shadow alike over the pride of the past, and the splendours of +the present. Equally does it temper the ambitions of the future. + +And so had it effected the views of Sir George Vernon--socially as well +as politically. Perhaps he saw in that future the dawning of a new +day--when the _regime_ of the Republic will be the only one acknowledged +upon earth! + +Whether or not, there was in his mind at that moment a man who +represented this idea; a man he had once slighted, even to scorn. On +his deathbed he felt scorn no longer; partly because he had repented of +it; and partly that he knew this man was in the mind of his daughter--in +her heart of heart. And he knew also she would never be happy without +having him in her arms! + +She had promised a self-sacrifice--nobly promised it. A command, a +request, a simple word would secure it! Was he to speak that word? + +No! Let the crest of the Vernons be erased from the page of heraldry! +Let it be blended with the plebeian insignia of a republic, rather than +a daughter of his house, his own dear child, should be the child of a +life-long sorrow! + +In that critical hour, he determined she should not. "You do not love +Frank Scudamore?" he said, after the long sad interlude, recurring to +her last speech. "I do not, father; I cannot!" + +"But you love another? Do not fear to speak frankly--candidly, my +child! You love another?" + +"I do--I do!" + +"And that other is--Captain Maynard?" + +"Father! I have once before confessed it. I told you I loved him, with +my whole heart's affection. Do you think that could ever change?" + +"Enough, my brave Blanche!" exclaimed the invalid, raising his head +proudly upon the pillow, and contemplating his daughter, as if in +admiration. "Enough! dearest Blanche! Come to my arms! Come closer +and embrace your father--your friend, who will not be much longer near +you. It will be no fault of mine, if I do not leave you in other arms-- +if not dearer, perhaps better able to protect you!" + +The wild burst of filial affection bestowed upon a dying parent permits +not expression in speech. + +Never was one wilder than when Blanche Vernon flung her arms around the +neck of her generous parent, and showered her scalding tears upon his +cheek! + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTY TWO. + +A CONSOLING EPISTLE. + +"Never more to see her--never more to hear of her! From her I need not +expect. She dares not write. No doubt an embargo has been laid upon +that. Parental authority forbids it. + +"And I dare not write to her! If I did, no doubt, by the same parental +authority, my epistle would be intercepted--still further compromising +her--still further debarring the chance of a reconciliation with her +father! + +"I dare not do it--I should not! + +"Why should I not? Is it not after all but a false sentiment of +chivalry? + +"And am I _not_ false to myself--to her? What authority over the heart +is higher than its own inclining? In the disposal of the hand, this, +and this alone, should be consulted. Who has the right to interpose +between two hearts mutually loving? To forbid their mutual happiness? + +"The parent claims such right, and too often exercises it! It may be a +wise control; but is it a just one? + +"And there are times, too, when it may not be wisdom, but madness. + +"O pride of rank! how much happiness has been left unachieved through +thy interference--how many hearts sacrificed on the shrine of thy hollow +pretensions! + +"Blanche! Blanche! It is hard to think there is a barrier between us, +that can never be broken down! An obstruction that no merit of mine, no +struggle, no triumph, no probation, can remove! It is hard! hard! + +"And even should I succeed in achieving such triumph, it might be too +late? The heart I have now might then be another's?" + +"Ah! _it may be another's now_! Who knows that it is not?" + +It was Captain Maynard who made these reflections. He was in his own +studio, and seated in his writing chair. But the last thought was too +painful for him to remain seated; and, springing to his feet, he +commenced pacing the floor. + +That sweet presentiment was no more in his mind--at least not strongly. +The tone and tenour of his soliloquy, especially its last clause, told +how much he had lost belief in it. And his manner, as he strode through +the room--his glances, gestures, and exclamations--the look of despair, +and the long-drawn sigh--told how much Blanche Vernon was in his mind-- +how much he still loved her! + +"It is true," he continued, "she may by this have forgotten me! A +child, she may have taken me up as a toy--no more to be thought of when +out of sight. Damaged too; for doubtless they've done everything to +defame me! + +"Oh! that I could believe that promise, made at the hour of our +parting--recorded, too, in writing! Let me look once more at the sweet +chirograph!" + +Thrusting his hand into the pocket of his vest--the one directly over +his heart--he drew forth the tiny sheet, there long and fondly +treasured. Spreading it out, he once more read:-- + +"_Papa is very angry; and I know he will never sanction my seeing you +again. I am sad to think we may meet no more; and that you will forget +me. I shall never forget you, never--never_!" + +The reading caused him a strange commingling of pain and pleasure, as it +had done twenty times before; for not less than twenty times had he +deciphered that hastily-scribbled note. + +But now the pain predominated over the pleasure. He had begun to +believe in the emphatic clause "we may never meet more," and to doubt +the declaration "I shall never forget you." He continued to pace the +floor wildly, despairingly. + +It did not do much to tranquillise him, when his friend, Roseveldt, +entered the room, in the making of a morning call. It was an occurrence +too common to create any distraction--especially from such thoughts. +And the Count had become changed of late. He, too, had a sorrow of a +similar kind--a sweetheart, about the consent of whose guardian there +was a question. + +In such matters men may give sympathy, but not consolation. It is only +the successful who can speak encouragement. + +Roseveldt did not stay long, nor was he communicative. + +Maynard did not know the object of his late-sprung passion--not even her +name! He only thought it must be some rare damsel who could have caused +such a transformation in his friend--a man so indifferent to the fair +sex as to have often declared his determination of dying a bachelor! + +The Count took his leave in a great hurry; but not before giving a hint +as to the why. Maynard noticed that he was dressed with unusual care-- +his moustache pomaded, his hair perfumed! + +He confessed to the motive for all this--he was on the way to make a +call upon a lady. Furthermore, he designed asking her a question. + +He did not say what; but left his old comrade under the impression that +it was _the proposal_. + +The interlude was not without suggestions of a ludicrous nature; that +for a time won Maynard from his painful imaginings. + +Only for a short time. They soon returned to him; and once more +stooping down, he re-read Blanche Vernon's note that had been left lying +upon the table. + +Just as he had finished a startling knock at the door--the well-known +"ra-ta"--proclaimed the postman. + +"A letter, sir," said the lodging-house servant, soon after entering the +room. + +There was no need for a parley; the postage was paid; and Maynard took +the letter. + +The superscription was in the handwriting of a gentleman. It was new to +him. There was nothing strange in that. An author fast rising into +fame, he was receiving such every day. + +But he started on turning the envelope to tear it open. There was a +crest upon it he at once recognised. It was the crest of the Vernons! + +Not rudely now was the cream-laid covering displaced but carefully, and +with hesitating hand. + +And with fingers that shook like aspen leaves, did he spread out the +contained sheet, also carrying the crest. + +They became steadier, as he read:-- + +"Sir,-- + +"_Your last words to me were_:--`I hope the time may come when you will +look less severely on my conduct!' Mine to you, if I remember aright, +were `NOT LIKELY!' + +"_Older than yourself, I deemed myself wiser. But the oldest and wisest +may be at times mistaken. I do not deem it a humiliation to confess +that I have been so, and about yourself. And, sir, if you do not think +it such to forgive my abrupt--I should rather say, barbarous--behaviour, +it would rejoice me once more to welcome you as my guest. Captain +Maynard! I am much changed since you last saw me--in the pride both of +spirit and person. I am upon my deathbed; and wish to see you before +parting from the world_. + +"_There is one by my side, watching over me, who wishes it too. You +will come_! + +"George Vernon." + +In the afternoon train of that same day, from London to Tunbridge Wells, +there travelled a passenger, who had booked himself for Sevenoaks, Kent. + +He was a gentleman of the name of _Maynard_! + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTY THREE. + +BOTH PRE-ENGAGED. + +Scarce a week had elapsed since that somewhat lugubrious interview +between Count Roseveldt and Captain Maynard in the room of the latter, +when the two men once more met in the same apartment. + +This time under changed circumstances, as indicated in the countenances +of both. + +Both seemed as jolly and joyous as if all Europe had become republican! + +And not only seemed it, but were so; for both of them had reason. + +The Count had come in. The Captain was just going out. + +"What luck!" cried the latter. "I was starting in search of you!" + +"And I've come in search of you! Captain, I might have missed you! I +wouldn't for fifty pounds." + +"I wouldn't have missed you for a hundred, Count! I want you in a most +important matter." + +"I want you in one more important." + +"You've been quarrelling, Count? I'm sorry for it I'm afraid I shall +not be able to serve you." + +"Reserve your regrets for yourself. It's more like you to be getting +into a scrape of that kind. _Pardieu_! I suppose you're in one?" + +"Quite the reverse! At all events, if I'm in a scrape, as you call it, +it's one of a more genial nature. I'm going to be married." + +"_Mein Gott_! so am I!" + +"She's consented, then?" + +"She has. And yours? I needn't ask who it is. It's the yellow-haired +child, I suppose?" + +"I once told you, Count, _that child would yet be my wife_. I have now +the felicity to tell you _she will_." + +"_Mere de Dieu_! it is wonderful. I shall henceforth believe in +presentiments. I had the same when I first saw _her_!" + +"_Her_? You mean the future Countess de Roseveldt? You have not told +me who is destined for your honour?" + +"I tell you now, _cher capitaine_, that she is the prettiest, dearest, +sweetest little pet you ever set eyes on. She'll give you a surprise +when you do. But you shan't have it till you're introduced to her right +in front of the altar; where you must go with me. I've come to bespeak +you for that purpose." + +"How very odd! It was for that I was going to you." + +"To engage me for best man?" + +"Of course; you once consented to be my second. I know you won't refuse +me now?" + +"It would be ungrateful if I did--requiring from you a similar service. +I suppose you consent to reciprocate?" + +"By all means. You may count upon me." + +"And you upon me. But when are you to be `turned off' as these +Britishers term it?" + +"Next Thursday, at eleven o'clock." + +"Thursday at eleven o'clock?" repeated the Count in surprise. "Why, +that's the very day and hour I am myself to be made a benedict of! +_Sacre Dieu_! We'll both be engaged in the same business then at the +same time! We won't be able to assist one another!" + +"A strange coincidence!" remarked Maynard; "very awkward too!" + +"_Peste_! isn't it? What a pity we couldn't pull together?" + +Of the hundreds of churches contained in the great city of London, it +never occurred to either, that they might be married in the same. + +"What's to be done, _cher capitaine_?" asked the Austrian. "I'm a +stranger here, and don't know a soul--that is, enough for this! And +you--although speaking the language--appear to be not much better +befriended! What's to be done for both of us?" + +Maynard was amused at the Count's perplexity. Stranger as he was, he +had no fears for himself. In the great world of London he knew of more +than one who would be willing to act as his groomsman--especially with a +baronet's daughter for the bride! + +"Stay!" cried Roseveldt, after reflecting. "I have it! There's Count +Ladislaus Teleky. He'll do for me. And there's--there's his cousin, +Count Francis! Why shouldn't he stand up for you? I know you are +friends. I've seen you together." + +"Quite true," said Maynard, remembering; "Though I didn't think of him, +Count Francis is the very man. I know he'll consent to see me bestowed. +It's not ten days since I assisted in making him a citizen of this +proud British Empire, in order that he might do as I intend doing--marry +a lady who ranks among the proudest of its aristocracy. Thank you, my +dear Count, for suggesting him. He is in every way suitable; and I +shall avail myself of his services." + +The two parted; one to seek Count Ladislaus Teleky, the other Francis, +to stand sponsors for them in that ceremony of pleasant anticipation-- +the most important either had ever gone through in his life. + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTY FOUR. + +THE MEET AT CHURCH. + +For Maynard a happy morn! + +It was that of the day on which Blanche Vernon was to become his bride! + +His presentiment was upon the point of being fulfilled; the _child_ was +to be his _wife_! + +Not by abduction; not by clandestine marriage; but openly, in the face +of the world, and with the consent of her father! + +Sir George had conceded--arranged everything, even to the details of the +marriage ceremony. + +It was to be soon--at once. + +Before dying, he desired to see his daughter bestowed and under +protection. + +If he had not chosen the arms that were to protect her, he no longer +opposed her choice. + +He had now sanctified it by a free formal approval. His future +son-in-law was no more a stranger-guest in the mansion at Sevenoaks, +Kent. + +The nuptials were not to be celebrated there. Not that Sir George would +have felt any shame in such celebration; but because he did not deem it +opportune. + +He knew that ere long sable plumes would be seen waving there, with a +black hatchment upon the wall. He wished not that these funereal +emblems should so soon fling their blighting shadow over the orange +blossoms of the bridal. + +It could be conveniently avoided. He had a sister living in Kensington +Gore; and from her house his daughter could be married. + +Besides, the old parish church of Kensington was that before whose altar +he had himself stood, some twenty years ago, with Blanche's mother by +his side. + +The arrangement would be altogether appropriate. + +It was determined upon; and Captain Maynard was requested to present +himself upon a certain day, at a certain hour, in the church of Saint +Mary's, Kensington. + +He came, accompanied by Count Francis Teleky; and there met his bride +attended by her maids. + +They were not many, for Blanche had expressed a desire to shun +ostentation. She only wanted to be wed to the man who had won her +heart! + +But few as were her bridesmaids, they were among the noblest of the +land, each of them bearing a title. + +And they were of its loveliest too; every one of them entitled to the +appellation of "belle." + +The bridegroom saw them not. Having saluted each with a simple bow, his +eyes became bent upon his bride; and there stayed they. + +No colours blend more harmoniously than those of the sunbeam and the +rose. Over none drapes the bridal veil more becomingly. + +Blanche Vernon needed not to blush. She had colour enough without that. + +But as her gaze met his, and his voice, like the challenge to some +beleaguered citadel, seemed to sound the death-knell of her maiden days, +she felt a strange sweet trembling in her heart, while the tint deepened +upon her cheeks. + +She was but too happy to surrender. + +Never in Maynard's eyes had she looked so lovely. He stood as if +spell-bound, gazing upon her beauty, with but one thought in his mind--a +longing to embrace her! + +He who has worshipped only in churches of modern structure can have but +little idea of the interior of one such as that of Saint Mary's, +Kensington. Its deep pews and heavy overhanging galleries, its shadowy +aisles flanked by pillars and pilasters, make it the type of the sacred +antique; and on Maynard's mind it produced this impression. + +And he thought of the thousands of thousands who had worshipped within +its walls, of knights and noble dames, who had knelt before its altar, +and whose escutcheons were recorded in the stained glass of its windows, +as in brass palimpsests set in the flags beneath his feet. How +suggestive these records of high chivalric thought, penetrating the far +past, and flinging their mystic influence over the present! + +It was upon Maynard, as he stood regarding them. + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTY FIVE. + +THE CLIMAX OF A CRIMINAL SCHEME. + +Despite the archaeological attractions of Saint Mary's Church, the +bridegroom began to grow impatient With such a bride before him, no +wonder he wished quick conduct to the altar! + +And there was reason too, on account of the long detention. At such a +crisis the shortest delay was difficult to be endured. + +It mattered but little that he knew the cause; for he did know it. + +Summoned at eleven o'clock, he had been there at the appointed time; but +to find that he and his bride were not the only couple to be made happy +on that same day, and at the same hour! There was a party that had +precedence of his! + +On first coming into the church, he had seen signs of it--women in white +dresses and drooping veils, with flower fillets upon their hair. + +He had only glanced at them in passing. His own bride was not among +them; and his eyes were only for her! + +While registering his name in the vestry, he had learned incidentally, +that not one, but two couples were to be married before him, both +together! He was told that the parties were friends. + +This information was imparted by the officiating curate; who, after +giving it, hurried off to perform the ceremony of making four hearts +happy at one and the same time. + +As Maynard and his groomsman returned into the church, they saw standing +before the altar, in crescent shape, a row of ladies and gentlemen. +There were in all eight of them--two brides, two bridegrooms, with a +like number of "maids" and "men." + +It was only after again saluting his own bride, and feasting his eyes +upon her beauty, that it occurred to him to take a look at those whose +happiness was by some ten minutes to take precedence of his. + +His first glance caused him a singular impression. It was almost +ludicrous from the coincidence that declared itself. + +Count Roseveldt was standing before the shrine, with Ladislaus Teleky by +his side, at the same instant recognised by the man at Maynard's side-- +his cousin! + +But who was the lady on Roseveldt's left, holding him by the hand? +_Cornelia Inskip_! + +Another coincidence; still another was in store for him; equally strange +and far more startling! + +Following the crescent curvature, he scrutinised the couple on Count +Roseveldt's right. They were the other two standing up to be married. + +It was with difficulty he could restrain an ejaculation, on recognising +Julia Girdwood as the bride, and Richard Swinton the bridegroom! + +With an effort he controlled himself. It was no business of his; and he +only made the muttered remark:--"Poor girl! there's something noble +about her. What a pity she should throw herself away on such a scamp as +Dick Swinton!" + +Maynard knew only _some_ of Dick Swinton's antecedents. He had no +suspicion that the ex-guardsman was at that moment in the act of +committing _bigamy_! + +It had not yet reached fulfilment. It was upon the verge of it. As +Maynard stood in speechless contemplation, the clergyman came to that +solemn question, proceeding from his lips in the form of a demand:-- + +"_I require and charge of you in the... if either of you know any +impediment, why ye may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony, ye +do now confess it_." + +There was the usual interval of silence, but not so long as is usual. +It was shortened by a response, a thing altogether unusual! This came +not from bride or bridegroom, but a third party, who suddenly appeared +upon the scene! + +A woman, young and beautiful, well-dressed, but with a wild look in her +eye, and anger in her every movement, shot out from behind one of the +supporting columns, and hastily approached the altar! She was followed +by two men, who appeared to act under her orders. + +"If they don't know any impediment, I do," cried she; "one that will +hinder them from being joined in matrimony. I mean these two!" she +added, pointing to Swinton and Julia! + +"On what ground do you interfere?" gasped the clergyman, as soon as he +had recovered from the shock of surprise. "Speak, woman!" + +"On the ground that this man is married already. He is my husband, and +would have been my _murderer_, but for--Here, men!" she commanded, +dropping the explanatory tone as she turned to the two plain-clothes +policemen who attended her, "take this gentleman in charge, and see that +you keep him in safe custody. This is your warrant." + +The two representatives of the executive did not stay to examine the +piece of stamped paper. They were already acquainted with its +character; and before the bigamous bridegroom could speak a word of +protest, their horny hands were laid upon his shoulder, ready, at +resistance, to clutch him by the collar! + +He made none--not even a show of it. He looked like a man suddenly +thunderstruck--trembling from head to foot; and, trembling, he was +conducted out of the church! It is not in the power of the pen to +describe the scene he had so unwillingly forsaken. The tableau, of +which he had formed part, was broken up by his involuntary departure. +It became transformed into a crowd--a confusion of talking men and +shrieking women. + +Julia Girdwood was not among them. At the first interruption of the +ceremony, by that excited intruder, she had comprehended all. Some +instinct seemed to warn her of her woe; and guided by it, she glided out +of the church, and took solitary shelter in a carriage that was to have +borne her home a bride, with a husband by her side! + +A new tableau, with characters all changed, was soon after formed in +front of the altar. + +It was not disturbed, till after Captain Maynard had placed the ring on +Blanche Vernon's finger, saluted her as his wedded wife, and listened to +the prayer that sanctified their union! + +Then there was a hand-shaking all round, a kissing on the part of pretty +bridesmaids, a rustling of silk dresses as they filed out of the church, +a getting into grand carriages, and then off to the aunt's residence in +Kensington Gore! + +That same evening a gentleman travelled to Tunbridge Wells, with a lady +by his side, on whose finger glittered a plain gold ring newly placed +there. It was not lonely for them, having a whole carriage to +themselves. They were the most contented couple in the train! + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTY SIX. + +STILL LATER. + +With mingled emotions do we bring our tale to a close. Some of its +scenes may have given pain; while others, it is to be hoped, have been +suggestive of pleasure. + +And with like mingled emotions, must we part from its conspicuous +characters: leaving some with regret, others with gladness. + +There are those of them whose after fate cannot fail to cause pain. +Perhaps more than all that of Julia Girdwood. + +It is told in three words: a disgust with all mankind--a determination +never to marry--and its consequence, a life of old maid-hood! + +She still lives it, and who knows that she may not like it? If not now, +when her mother takes departure from the world, leaving her to the +enjoyment of a million dollars. + +But Mrs Girdwood has not done so yet; and says she don't intend to for +a score of years to come! + +She would herself get married, but for that crooked clause in the +deceased storekeeper's will, which is all-powerful to prevent her! + +"Poor Fan Swinton!" + +So a moralist might have said, who saw her, six months after, driving +through the Park, with a parasol upon her whip, and a pair of +high-steppers in the traces--both whip and steppers paid for by one who +is not her husband. + +Perhaps there were but few moralists in the Park to make the reflection! + +"And poor Dick Swinton!" + +There were still fewer to say that, as the ex-guardsman stood in the +dock of a criminal court, charged not only with an attempt at bigamy, +but murder! + +Fewer still, after both charges had been proved; and with hair close +cropped he took forced departure for a far-distant land! + +The "other count" went in the same ship with him, into a like +involuntary exile, and from causes somewhat similar! + +And the Honourable Geraldine Courtney in time followed suit: she losing +her luxuriant tresses for having changed from the profession of "horse +coper" to the less reputable calling of coiner! + +She had a long "innings," however, before it came to that: time enough +to bring to ruin more than one young swell--among others Frank +Scudamore, the "spooney" of the Haymarket supper. + +Sir Robert Cottrell still lives; and still continues to make grand +conquests at the cheapest possible price. + +And alive, too, are Messrs. Lucas and Spiller, both returned to America +from their European tour, and both yet bachelors. + +The former may be seen any day sauntering along the streets of New York, +and frequently flitting around that Fifth Avenue House, where dwells the +disconsolate Julia. + +Notwithstanding repeated repulses, he has not lost hope of consoling +her, by effecting a change in her name! + +His shadow, Spiller, is not so much seen along with him--at least upon +the flags of the Fifth Avenue. + +Cornelia Inskip, the star that should have attracted him thither, is no +longer there. The daughter of the Poughkeepsie retailer has long since +changed, not only her name, but place of abode. She can be found in the +capital of Austria, by any one inquiring for the Countess von Roseveldt. + +More fortunate than her ambitious cousin, who sought a title without +finding it, Cornelia found one without seeking it! + +It seems like dealing out dramatic justice, but the story is true. Not +much of a tragedy, since we have but one death to record. That, too, +expected, though painful. + +Sir George Vernon died; but not till after having seen his daughter +married to the man of her choice, and given his blessing both to the +_Child Wife_ and her chosen husband. + +It has long made them happy in their English home; and, now, in a far +foreign land--the land where they first saw one another--that blessing +still clings to them. + +Maynard believes in Blanche, and she in him, as at that hour when she +saw him lifted in the arms of big-bearded men, and carried on board the +Cunard steamer! + +That proud triumph over the people has made an impression upon her +heart, never to be effaced! And to win such a wife, _who would not be +true to the people_! + +The End. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Child Wife, by Mayne Reid + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHILD WIFE *** + +***** This file should be named 35913.txt or 35913.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/9/1/35913/ + +Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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