initial commit of ebook 8572HEADmain

1 files changed, 21562 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/8572.txt b/8572.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a85f4cc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/8572.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,21562 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Cord and Creese, by James de Mille
+
+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: Cord and Creese
+
+Author: James de Mille
+
+
+Release Date: July, 2005 [EBook #8572]
+This file was first posted on July 24, 2003
+Last Updated: June 3, 2013
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CORD AND CREESE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Moynihan, Tonya Allen, Charles Franks
+and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CORD AND CREESE
+
+
+By James De Mille
+
+
+The Author Of "The Dodge Club"
+
+
+
+CORD AND CREESE
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+THE LETTER FROM BEYOND THE SEA.
+
+On the morning of July 21, 1840, the _Daily News_ announced the
+arrival of the ship _Rival_ at Sydney, New South Wales. As ocean steam
+navigation had not yet extended so far, the advent of this ship with
+the English mail created the usual excitement. An eager crowd beset the
+post-office, waiting for the delivery of the mail; and little knots at
+the street corners were busily discussing the latest hints at news
+which had been gathered from papers brought ashore by the officers or
+passengers.
+
+At the lower end of King Street was a large warehouse, with an office at
+the upper extremity, over which was a new sign, which showed with newly
+gilded letters the words:
+
+COMPTON & BRANDON.
+
+The general appearance of the warehouse showed that Messrs. Compton and
+Brandon were probably commission merchants, general agents, or something
+of that sort.
+
+On the morning mentioned two men were in the inner office of this
+warehouse. One was an elderly gentleman, with a kind, benevolent aspect,
+the senior partner of the firm. The other was the junior partner, and in
+every respect presented a marked contrast to his companion.
+
+He had a face of rather unusual appearance, and an air which in England
+is usually considered foreign. His features were regular--a straight
+nose, wide brow, thin lips, and square, massive chin. His complexion was
+olive, and his eyes were of a dark hazel color, with a peculiarity about
+them which is not usually seen in the eye of the Teutonic or Celtic
+race, but is sometimes found among the people of the south of Europe, or
+in the East. It is difficult to find a name for this peculiarity. It may
+be seen sometimes in the gipsy; sometimes in the more successful
+among those who call themselves "spiritual mediums," or among the more
+powerful mesmerizers. Such an eye belonged to Napoleon Bonaparte, whose
+glance at times could make the boldest and greatest among his marshals
+quail. What is it? Magnetism? Or the revelation of the soul? Or what?
+
+In this man there were other things which gave him the look of the great
+Napoleon. The contour of feature was the same: and on his brow, broad
+and massive, there might be seen those grand shadows with which French
+artists love to glorify the Emperor. Yet in addition to this he had that
+same serene immobility of countenance which characterized the other,
+which could serve as an impenetrable mask to hide even the intensest
+person.
+
+There was also about this man a certain aristocratic air and grace of
+attitude, or of manner, which seemed to show lofty birth and gentle
+breeding, the mysterious index to good blood or high training. How such
+a man could have happened to fill the position of junior partner in a
+commission business was certainly a problem not easily solved. There he
+was, however, a man in appearance out of place, yet in reality able
+to fill that place with success; a man, in fact, whose resolute will
+enabled him to enforce success in any calling of life to which either
+outside circumstances or his own personal desires might invite him.
+
+"The mail ought to be open by this time," said Brandon, indifferently,
+looking at his watch. "I am somewhat curious to see how things are
+looking. I noticed quotations of wool rather higher than by last mail.
+If the papers are correct which I saw then we ought to do very well by
+that last cargo."
+
+Mr. Compton smiled.
+
+"Well, Brandon," said he, "if it is so it will show that you are right.
+You anticipated a rise about this time, you know. You certainly have a
+remarkable forecast about the chances of business."
+
+"I don't think there is much forecast," said Brandon, with a smile. "It
+was only the most ordinary calculation made from the well-known fact
+that the exportation this year had been slight. But there comes Hedley
+now," he continued, moving his head a little to one side so as to look
+up the street. "The letters will soon show us all."
+
+Mr. Compton looked out in the direction which Brandon indicated and saw
+the clerk approaching. He then settled himself back in his chair,
+put his hands in his pockets, threw one leg over the other, and began
+whistling a tune with the air of a man who was so entirely prosperous
+and contented that no news whether good or evil could greatly affect his
+fortunes.
+
+In a short time the clerk entered the inner office and, laying the
+letters down upon the table nearest Mr. Compton, he withdrew.
+
+Mr. Compton took up the letters one by one and read the addresses, while
+Brandon looked carelessly on. There were ten or twelve of them, all
+of which, except one, were addressed to the firm. This one Mr. Compton
+selected from among the others, and reaching it out in his hand said:
+
+"This is for you, Mr. Brandon."
+
+"For me?" repeated Brandon, with marked surprise; and taking the letter
+he looked at the address with eager curiosity.
+
+The address was simply as follows:
+
+  Louis Brandon,
+    Sydney, New South Wales.
+
+The letters were irregular and loosely formed, as though written by
+a tremulous hand--such letters as old men form when the muscles have
+become relaxed.
+
+Mr. Compton went on opening the letters of the firm without taking any
+further notice of his partner. The latter sat for some time looking at
+the letter without venturing to open it. He held it in both hands, and
+looked fixedly at that address as though from the address itself he was
+trying to extort some meaning.
+
+He held it thus in both hands looking fixedly at it, with his head
+bent forward. Had Mr. Compton thought of taking a look at his usually
+impassive companion, he would have been surprised at the change which
+had taken place in him at the mere sight of that tremulous handwriting.
+For in that he had read grief, misfortune, perhaps death; and as he sat
+there, pausing before he dared to break the seal, the contents of the
+letter had already been conjectured.
+
+Gloom therefore unutterable gathered upon his face; his features fixed
+themselves into such rigidity of grief that they became more expressive
+than if they had been distorted by passionate emotions; and over his
+brow collected cloud upon cloud, which deepened and darkened every
+instant till they overshadowed all; and his face in its statuesque
+fixedness resembled nothing so much as that which the artist gives to
+Napoleon at the crisis hour of Waterloo, when the Guard has recoiled
+from its last charge, and from that Imperial face in its fixed agony the
+soul itself seems to cry, "Lost!" "Lost!"
+
+Yet it was only for a few minutes. Hastily subduing his feeling Brandon
+rose, and clutching the letter in his hand as though it were too
+precious to be trusted to his pocket, he quietly left the office and the
+warehouse and walked up the street.
+
+He walked on rapidly until he reached a large building which bore the
+sign "Australian Hotel." Here he entered, and walked up stairs to a
+room, and locked himself in. Then when alone in his own apartments he
+ventured to open the letter.
+
+The paper was poor and mean; the handwriting, like that of the address,
+was tremulous, and in many places quite illegible; the ink was pale;
+and the whole appearance of the letter seemed to indicate poverty and
+weakness on the part of the writer. By a very natural impulse Brandon
+hesitated before beginning to read, and took in all these things with a
+quick glance.
+
+At last he nerved himself to the task and began to read.
+
+This was the letter.
+
+"Brandon, March 10, 1846.
+
+"My dear Boy,--These are the last words which you will ever hear from
+your father. I am dying, my dear boy, and dying of a broken heart; but
+_where_ I am dying I am afraid to tell you. That bitterness I leave
+for you to find out some day for yourself. In poverty unspeakable, in
+anguish that I pray you may never know, I turn to you after a silence of
+years, and my first word is to implore your forgiveness. I know my noble
+boy that you grant it, and it is enough for me to ask it. After asking
+this I can die content on that score.
+
+"Lying as I do now at the point of death, I find myself at last freed
+from the follies and prejudices which have been my ruin. The clouds roll
+away from my mind, and I perceive what a mad fool I have been for years.
+Most of all I see the madness that instigated me to turn against you,
+and to put against the loyal love of the best of sons my own miserable
+pride and the accusation of a lying scoundrel. May God have mercy upon
+me for this!
+
+"I have not much strength, dear boy; I have to write at intervals, and
+by stealth, so as not to be discovered, for I am closely watched. _He_
+must never know that I have sent this to you. Frank and your mother are
+both sick, and my only help is your sister, my sweet Edith, she watches
+me, and enables me to write this in safety.
+
+"I must tell you all without reserve before strength leaves me forever.
+
+"That man Potts, whom you so justly hated, was and is the cause of all
+my suffering and of yours. You used to wonder how such a man as that, a
+low, vulgar knave, could gain such an influence over me and sway me as
+he did. I will try to explain.
+
+"Perhaps you remember something about the lamentable death of my old
+friend Colonel Despard. The first that I ever heard of this man Potts
+was in his connection with Despard, for whom he acted partly as valet,
+and partly as business agent. Just before Despard left to go on
+his fatal voyage he wrote to me about his affairs, and stated, in
+conclusion, that this man Potts was going to England, that he was sorry
+to lose him, but recommended him very earnestly to me.
+
+"You recollect that Colonel Despard was murdered on this voyage under
+very mysterious circumstances on shipboard. His Malay servant Uracao
+was convicted and executed. Potts distinguished himself by his zeal in
+avenging his master's death.
+
+"About a year after this Potts himself came to England and visited me.
+He was, as you know, a rough, vulgar man; but his connection with my
+murdered friend, and the warm recommendations of that friend, made me
+receive him with the greatest kindness. Besides, he had many things
+to tell me about my poor friend, and brought the newspapers both from
+Manilla and Calcutta which contained accounts of the trial.
+
+"It was this man's desire to settle himself somewhere, and I gave him
+letters to different people. He then went off, and I did not see him for
+two years. At the end of that time he returned with glowing accounts of
+a tin mine which he was working in Cornwall. He had bought it at a low
+price, and the returns from working it had exceeded his most sanguine
+expectations. He had just organized a company, and was selling the
+stock. He came first to me to let me take what I wished. I carelessly
+took five thousand pounds' worth.
+
+[Illustration: "EDITH SHE WATCHES ME, AND ENABLES ME TO WRITE THIS IN
+SAFETY."]
+
+"On the following year the dividend was enormous, being nearly sixty per
+cent. Potts explained to me the cause, declaring that it was the richest
+mine in the kingdom, and assuring me that my L5000 was worth ten times
+that sum. His glowing accounts of the mine interested me greatly.
+Another year the dividend was higher, and he assured me that he expected
+to pay cent. per cent.
+
+"It was then that the demon of avarice took full possession of me.
+Visions of millions came to me, and I determined to become the richest
+man in the kingdom. After this I turned every thing I had into money to
+invest in the mine. I raised enormous sums on my landed estate, and
+put all that I was worth, and more too, into the speculation. I was
+fascinated, not by this man, but by the wealth that he seemed to
+represent. I believed in him to the utmost. In vain my friends warned
+me. I turned from them, and quarreled with most of them. In my madness
+I refused to listen to the entreaties of my poor wife, and turned even
+against you. I can not bear to allude to those mournful days when you
+denounced that villain to his face before me; when I ordered you to
+beg his pardon or leave my roof forever; when you chose the latter
+alternative and became an outcast. My noble boy--my true-hearted son,
+that last look of yours, with all its reproach, is haunting my dying
+hours. If you were only near me now how peacefully I could die!
+
+"My strength is failing. I can not describe the details of my ruin.
+Enough that the mine broke down utterly, and I as chief stockholder
+was responsible for all. I had to sell out every thing. The stock was
+worthless. The Hall and the estates all went. I had no friend to help
+me, for by my madness I had alienated them all. All this came upon me
+during the last year.
+
+"But mark this, my son. This man Potts was _not_ ruined. He seemed to
+have grown possessed of a colossal fortune. When I reproached him with
+being the author of my calamity, and insisted that he ought to share it
+with me, the scoundrel laughed in my face.
+
+"The Hall and the estates were sold, for, unfortunately, though they
+have been in our family for ages, they were not entailed. A feeling of
+honor was the cause of this neglect. They were sold, and the purchaser
+was this man Potts. He must have bought them with the money that he had
+plundered from me.
+
+"Now, since my eyes have been opened, I have had many thoughts; and
+among all that occurs to me none is more prominent than the mysterious
+murder of my friend. This man Potts was with him at the time. He was
+chief witness against the Malay. The counsel for the defense bore down
+hard on him, but he managed to escape, and Uracao was executed. Yet
+this much is evident, that Potts was largely benefited by the death
+of Despard. He could not have made all his money by his own savings.
+I believe that the man who wronged me so foully was fully capable
+of murder. So strong is this conviction now that I sometimes have a
+superstitious feeling that because I neglected all inquiry into the
+death of my friend, therefore he has visited me from that other life,
+and punished me, by making the same man the ruin of us both.
+
+"The mine, I now believe, was a colossal sham; and all the money that
+I invested in stocks went directly to Potts. Good God! what madness was
+mine!
+
+"O my boy! Your mother and your brother are lying here sick; your sister
+attends on us all, though little more than a child. Soon I must leave
+them; and for those who are destined to live there is a future which I
+shudder to contemplate. Come home at once. Come home, whatever you are
+doing. Leave all business, and all prospects, and come and save them.
+That much you can do. Come, if it is only to take them back with you to
+that new land where you live, where they may forget their anguish.
+
+"Come home, my son, and take vengeance. This, perhaps, you can not do,
+but you at least can try. By the time that you read these words they
+will be my voice from the grave; and thus I invoke you, and call you to
+take vengeance.
+
+"But at least come and save your mother, your brother, and your sister.
+The danger is imminent. Not a friend is left. They all hold aloof,
+indignant at me. This miscreant has his own plans with regard to them, I
+doubt not; and he will disperse them or send them off to starve in some
+foreign land. Come and save them.
+
+"But I warn you to be careful about yourself for their sakes. For this
+villain is powerful now, and hates you worse than any body. His arm may
+reach even to the antipodes to strike you there. Be on your guard. Watch
+every one. For once, from words which fell from him hastily I gathered
+that he had some dark plan against you. Trust no one. Rely on yourself,
+and may God help you!
+
+"Poor boy! I have no estate to leave you now, and what I do send to you
+may seem to you like a mockery. Yet do not despise it. Who knows what
+may be possible in these days of science? Why may it not be possible to
+force the sea to give up its prey?
+
+"I send it, at any rate, for I have nothing else to send. You know that
+it has been in our family for centuries, and have heard how stout old
+Peter Leggit, with nine sailors, escaped by night through the Spanish
+fleet, and what suffering they endured before they reached England. He
+brought this, and it has been preserved ever since. A legend has grown
+up, as a matter of course, that the treasure will be recovered one day
+when the family is at its last extremity. It may not be impossible. The
+writer intended that something should come of it.
+
+"If in that other world to which I am going the disembodied spirit can
+assist man, then be sure, O my son, I will assist you, and in the crisis
+of your fate I will be near, if it is only to communicate to your spirit
+what you ought to do.
+
+"God bless you, dear boy, and farewell.
+
+"Your affectionate father.
+
+"RALPH BRANDON."
+
+This letter was evidently written by fragmentary portions, as though it
+had been done at intervals. Some parts were written leisurely--others
+apparently in haste. The first half had been written evidently with
+the greatest ease. The writing of the last half showed weakness and
+tremulousness of hand; many words would have been quite illegible to one
+not familiar with the handwriting of the old man. Sometimes the word was
+written two or three times, and there were numerous blots and unmeaning
+lines. It grew more and more illegible toward the close. Evidently
+it was the work of one who was but ill able to exert even sufficient
+strength to hold a pen in his trembling hand.
+
+In this letter there was folded a large piece of coarse paper, evidently
+a blank leaf torn from a book, brown with age, which was worn at the
+folds, and protected there by pieces of cotton which had been pasted
+upon it. The paper was covered with writing, in ink that was much faded,
+though still quite legible.
+
+Opening this Brandon read the following:
+
+[Illustration: Facsimile of handwritten page reading:
+
+"One league due northe of a smalle islet northe of the Islet of Santa
+Cruz northe of San Salvador----I Ralphe Brandon in my shippe Phoenix am
+becalmed and surrounded by a Spanish fleete----My shippe is filled with
+spoyle the Plunder of III galleons----wealth which myghte purchase a
+kyngdom-tresure equalle to an Empyr's revenue----Gold and jeweles in
+countless store----and God forbydde that itt shall falle into the hands
+of the Enemye----I therefore Ralphe Brandon out of mine owne good wyl
+and intente and that of all my men sink this shippe rather than be taken
+alyve----I send this by my trusty seaman Peter Leggit who with IX others
+tolde off by lot will trye to escape in the Boate by nighte----If this
+cometh haply into the hands of my sonne Philip let him herebye knowe
+that in this place is all this tresure----which haply may yet be gatherd
+from the sea----the Islet is knowne by III rockes that be pushed up like
+III needles from the sande.
+
+"Ralphe Brandon"]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+A LIFE TRAGEDY.
+
+Not a word or a gesture escaped Brandon during the perusal, but after
+he had finished he read the whole through twice, then laying it down, he
+paced up and down the room. His olive skin had become of a sickly tawny
+hue, his eyes glowed with intense lustre, and his brow was covered with
+those gloomy Napoleonic clouds, but not a nerve was shaken by the shock
+of this dread intelligence.
+
+Evening came and night; and the night passed, and morning came, but it
+found him still there pacing the room.
+
+Earlier than usual next morning he was at the office, and waited for
+some time before the senior partner made his appearance. When he came in
+it was with a smile on his face, and a general air of congratulation to
+all the world.
+
+"Well, Brandon," said he, cordially, "that last shipment has turned
+out finely. More than a thousand pounds. And it's all your doing. I
+objected, but you were right. Let me congratulate you."
+
+Something in Brandon's face seemed to surprise the old gentleman, and
+he paused for a moment. "Why what's the matter, my boy?" he said, in
+a paternal voice. "You have not heard any bad news, I hope, in that
+letter--I hope it's nothing serious?"
+
+Brandon gave a faint smile.
+
+"Serious enough," said he, looking away with an abstracted gaze, "to put
+a sudden end to my Australian career."
+
+"Oh no--oh no!" said the other, earnestly; "not so bad as that."
+
+"I must go home at once."
+
+"Oh well, that may be, but you will be back again. Take a leave of
+absence for five years if you wish, but don't quit for good. I'll do the
+business and won't complain, my boy. I'll keep your place comfortable
+for you till your return."
+
+Brandon's stern face softened as he looked at the old man, whose
+features were filled with the kindest expression, and whose tone showed
+the affectionate interest which he felt.
+
+"Your kindness to me, Mr. Compton," said he, very slowly, and with deep
+feeling, "has been beyond all words. Ever since I first came to this
+country you have been the truest and the best of friends. I hope you
+know me well enough to believe that I can never forget it. But now all
+this is at an end, and all the bright prospects that I had here must
+give way to the call of the sternest duty. In that letter which I
+received last night there came a summons home which I can not neglect,
+and my whole life hereafter must be directed toward the fulfillment of
+that summons. From mid-day yesterday until dawn this morning I paced
+my room incessantly, laying out my plans for the future thus suddenly
+thrust upon me, and though I have not been able to decide upon any thing
+definite, yet I see plainly that nothing less than a life will enable me
+to accomplish my duty. The first thing for me to do is to acquaint you
+with this and to give up my part in the business."
+
+Mr. Compton placed his elbow on the table near which he had seated
+himself, leaned his head upon his hand, and looked at the floor. From
+Brandon's tone he perceived that this resolution was irrevocable. The
+deep dejection which he felt could not be concealed. He was silent for a
+long time.
+
+"God knows," said he, at last, "that I would rather have failed in
+business than that this should have happened."
+
+Brandon looked away and said nothing.
+
+"It comes upon me so suddenly," he continued. "I do not know what to
+think. And how can I manage these vast affairs without your assistance?
+For you were the one who did our business. I know that well. I had no
+head for it."
+
+"You can reduce it to smaller proportions." said Brandon; "that can
+easily be done."
+
+The old man sighed.
+
+"After all," he continued, "it is not the business. It's losing you that
+I think of, dear boy. I'm not thinking of the business at all. My grief
+is altogether about your departure. I grieve, too, at the blow which
+must have fallen on you to make this necessary."
+
+"The blow is a heavy one," said Brandon; "so heavy that every thing else
+in life must be forgotten except the one thought--how to recover from
+it; and perhaps, also," he added, in a lower voice, "how to return it."
+
+Mr. Compton was silent for a long time, and with every minute the deep
+dejection of his face and manner increased. He folded his arms and shut
+his eyes in deep thought.
+
+"My boy," said he at last, in that same paternal tone which he had used
+before, and in a mild, calm voice. "I suppose this thing can not be
+helped, and all that is left for me to do is to bear it as best I may.
+I will not indulge in any selfish sorrow in the presence of your greater
+trouble. I will rather do all in my power to coincide with your wishes.
+I see now that you must have a good reason for your decision, although I
+do not seek to look into that reason."
+
+"Believe me," said Brandon, "I would show you the letter at once, but it
+is so terrible that I would rather that you should not know. It is worse
+than death, and I do not even yet begin to know the worst."
+
+The old man sighed, and looked at him with deep commiseration.
+
+"If our separation must indeed be final," said he, at last, "I will take
+care that you shall suffer no loss. You shall have your full share of
+the capital."
+
+"I leave that entirely to you," said Brandon.
+
+"Fortunately our business is not much scattered. A settlement can easily
+be made, and I will arrange it so that you shall not have any loss. Our
+balance-sheet was made out only last month, and it showed our firm to be
+worth thirty thousand pounds. Half of this is yours, and--"
+
+"Half!" interrupted the other. "My dear friend, you mean a quarter."
+
+The old man waved his hand.
+
+"I said half, and I mean half."
+
+"I will never consent."
+
+"You must."
+
+"Never."
+
+"You shall. Why, think of the petty business that I was doing when
+you came here. I was worth about four thousand. You have built up the
+business to its present dimensions. Do you suppose that I don't know?"
+
+"I can not allow you to make such a sacrifice," said Brandon.
+
+"Stop," said Mr. Compton. "I have not said all. I attach a condition to
+this which I implore you not to refuse. Listen to me, and you will then
+be able to see."
+
+Mr. Compton rose and looked carefully out into the office. There was no
+one near. He then returned, locked the door, and drawing his chair close
+to Brandon, began, in a low voice:
+
+"You have your secrets and I have mine. I don't wish to know yours, but
+my own I am going to tell to you, not merely for the sake of sympathy,
+but rather for the sake of your assistance. I am going to tell you who I
+am, and why I came out here.
+
+"My name is not Compton. It is Henry Lawton. All my early life was
+passed at York. There I married, had a son, and lived happily for
+years--in fact, during the childhood of my boy.
+
+"It was that boy of mine, Edgar, that led to all my troubles. I suppose
+we indulged him too much. It was natural. He was our only child, and so
+we ruined him. He got beyond our control at last and used to run about
+the streets of York. I did what I could to save him, but it was too
+late.
+
+"He went on from bad to worse, until at last he got in with a set of
+miscreants who were among the worst in the country. My God! to think how
+my boy, once a sweet child, could have fallen so low. But he was weak,
+and easily led, and so he went on from bad to worse.
+
+"I can not bear to go into particulars," said the old man, after a long
+pause. "I will come at once to point. My poor, wretched boy got in with
+these miscreants, as I was telling you, and I did not see him from one
+month's end to another. At last a great burglary took place. Three were
+arrested. Among these two were old offenders, hardened in vice, the one
+named Briggs, the other Crocker; the third was my unhappy boy."
+
+The old man was silent for some time.
+
+"I do not think, after all, that he was guilty: but Briggs turned King's
+Evidence, and Crocker and my son were condemned to transportation. There
+was no help.
+
+"I sold out all I had in the world, and in compliance with the
+entreaties of my poor wife, who nearly went mad with grief, I came out
+here. I changed my name to Compton. My boy's term was for three years. I
+began a business out here, and as my boy behaved well he was able to get
+permission to hire out as a servant. I took him nominally as my servant,
+for no one knew that he was my son, and so we had him with us again.
+
+"I hoped that the bitter lesson which he had learned would prove
+beneficial, but I did not know the strength of evil inclinations. As
+long as his term of imprisonment lasted he was content and behaved well;
+but at last, when the three years were up, he began to grow restive.
+Crocker was freed at about the same time and my boy fell again under his
+evil influence. This lasted for about a year, when, at last, one morning
+a letter was brought me from him stating that he had gone to India. My
+poor wife was again nearly distracted. She thought of nothing but her
+boy. She made me take her and go in search of him again. So we went
+to India. After a long search I found him there, as I had feared, in
+connection with his old, vicious associates. True, they had changed
+their names, and were trying to pass for honest men. Crocker called
+himself Clark, and Briggs called himself Potts."
+
+"Potts," cried Brandon.
+
+"Yes," said the other, who was too absorbed in his own thoughts to
+notice the surprise of Brandon. "He was in the employ of Colonel
+Despard, at Calcutta, and enjoyed much of his confidence."
+
+"What year was this?" asked Brandon.
+
+"1825," replied Mr. Compton. "Crocker," he continued, "was acting as a
+sort of shipping agent, and my son was his clerk. Of course, my first
+efforts were directed toward detaching my son from these scoundrels.
+I did all that I could. I offered to give him half of my property, and
+finally all, if he would only leave them forever and come back. The
+wretched boy refused. He did not appear to be altogether bad, but he had
+a weak nature, and could not get rid of the influence of these men.
+
+"I staid in India for a year and a half, until I found at last that
+there was no hope. I could find nothing to do there, and if I remained
+I would have to starve or go out to service. This I could not think of
+doing. So I prepared to come back here. But my wife refused to leave her
+son. She was resolved, she said, to stay by him till the last. I tried
+to dissuade her, but could not move her. I told her that I could not
+be a domestic. She said that she could do even that for the sake of her
+boy. And she went off at once and got a situation as nurse with the same
+Colonel Despard with whom Briggs, or, as he called himself, Potts, was
+staying."
+
+"What was the Christian name of this Potts?" asked Brandon, calmly.
+
+"John--John Potts."
+
+Brandon said nothing further, and Compton resumed.
+
+"Thus my wife actually left me. I could not stay and be a slave. So I
+made her promise to write me, and told her that I would send her as much
+money as I could. She clung to me half broken-hearted as I left her.
+Our parting was a bitter one--bitter enough: but I would rather break my
+heart with grief than be a servant. Besides, she knew that whenever she
+came back my heart was open to receive her.
+
+"I came back to my lonely life out here and lived for nearly two years.
+At last, in September 1828, a mail arrived from India bringing a letter
+from my wife and Indian papers. The news which they brought well-nigh
+drove me mad."
+
+Compton buried his face in his hands and remained silent for some time.
+
+"You couldn't have been more than a child at that time, but perhaps you
+may have heard of the mysterious murder of Colonel Despard?"
+
+He looked inquiringly at Brandon, but the latter gave no sign.
+
+[Illustration: "THERE'S SOME MYSTERY ABOUT IT WHICH I CAN'T FATHOM."]
+
+"Perhaps not," he continued--"no: you were too young, of course. Well,
+it was in the _Vishnu_, a brig in which the Colonel had embarked for
+Manilla. The brig was laden with hogshead staves and box shooks, and
+the Colonel went there partly for his health, partly on business, taking
+with him his valet Potts."
+
+"What became of his family?" interrupted Brandon.
+
+"He had a son in England at school. His wife had died not long before
+this at one of the hill stations, where she had gone for her health.
+Grief may have had something to do with the Colonel's voyage, for he was
+very much attached to his wife.
+
+"Mails used only to come at long intervals in those days and this one
+brought the account not only of the Colonel's fate, but of the trial at
+Manilla and the execution of the man that was condemned.
+
+"It was a very mysterious case. In the month of July a boat arrived at
+Manilla which carried the crew and one passenger from the brig
+_Vishnu_. One of the men, a Malay named Uracao, was in irons, and he was
+immediately given up to the authorities."
+
+"Who were the others?"
+
+"Potts, as he called himself, the Colonel's valet, Clark, three Lascars,
+and the Captain, an Italian named Cigole. Information was at once laid
+against the Malay. Potts was the chief witness. He said that he slept
+in the cabin while the Colonel slept in an inner state-room; that one
+morning early he was roused by a frightful shriek and saw Uracao rushing
+from the Colonel's state-room. He sprang up, chased him, and caught him
+just as he was about to leap overboard. His creese covered with blood
+was in his hand. The Colonel, when they went to look at him, had his
+throat cut from ear to ear. Clark swore that he was steering the vessel
+and saw Potts catch Uracao, and helped to hold him. The Captain, Cigole,
+swore that he was waked by the noise, and rushed out in time to see
+this. Clark had gone as mate of the vessel. Of the Lascars, two had been
+down below, but one was on deck and swore to have seen the same. On this
+testimony Uracao was condemned and executed."
+
+"How did they happen to leave the brig?"
+
+"They said that a great storm came up about three days' sail from
+Manilla, the vessel sprang a leak, and they had to take to the boat.
+Their testimony was very clear indeed, and there were no contradictions;
+but in spite of all this it was felt to be a very mysterious case, and
+even the exhibition of the Malay creese, carefully covered with the
+stains of blood, did not altogether dispel this feeling."
+
+"Have you got the papers yet, or are there any in Sydney that contain an
+account of this affair?"
+
+"I have kept them all. You may read the whole case if you care about
+it."
+
+"I should like to, very much," said Brandon, with great calmness.
+
+"When I heard of this before the mail was opened I felt an agony of fear
+lest my miserable boy might be implicated in some way. To my immense
+relief his name did not occur at all."
+
+"You got a letter from your wife?" said Brandon, interrogatively.
+
+"Yes," said the old man, with a sigh. "The last that I ever received
+from her. Here it is." And, saying this, he opened his pocket-book and
+took out a letter, worn and faded, and blackened by frequent readings.
+
+Brandon took it respectfully, and read the following:
+
+"CALCUTTA, August 15, 1828.
+
+"MY DEAREST HENRY,--By the papers that I send you, you will see what has
+occurred. Our dear Edgar is well, indeed better than usual, and I would
+feel much cheered if it were not for the sad fate of the poor Colonel.
+This is the last letter that you will ever receive from me. I am going
+to leave this country never to return, and do not yet know where I will
+go. Wherever I go I will be with my darling Edgar. Do not worry about me
+or about him. It will be better for you to try and forget all about us,
+since we are from this time the same as dead to you. Good-by forever, my
+dearest husband; it shall be my daily prayer that God may bless you.
+
+"Your affectionate wife, MARY."
+
+Brandon read this in silence, and handed it back.
+
+"A strange letter," said Compton mournfully. "At first it gave a bitter
+pang to think of my Mary thus giving me up forever, so coldly, and for
+no reason: but afterward I began to understand why she wrote this.
+
+"My belief is, that these villains kept my son in their clutches for
+some good reason, and that they had some equally good reason for keeping
+her. There's some mystery about it which I can't fathom. Perhaps she
+knew too much about the Colonel's affairs to be allowed to go free. They
+might have detained her by working upon her love for her son, or simply
+by terrifying her. She was always a timid soul, poor Mary. That letter
+is not her composition: there is not a word there that sounds like her,
+and they no doubt told her what to write, or wrote out something, and
+made her copy it.
+
+"And now," said Compton, after another long pause, "I have got to the
+end of my story. I know nothing more about them. I have lived here ever
+since, at first despairing, but of late more resigned to my lot. Yet
+still if I have one desire in life it is to get some trace of these dear
+ones whom I still love as tenderly as ever. You, my dear boy, with your
+ability may conjecture some way. Besides, you will perhaps be traveling
+more or less, and may be able to hear of their fate. This is the
+condition that I make. I implore you by your pity for a heart-broken
+father to do as I say and help me. Half! why, I would give all that I
+have if I could get them back again."
+
+Brandon shuddered perceptibly at the words "heart-broken father;" but he
+quickly recovered himself. He took Compton's hand and pressed it warmly.
+
+"Dear friend, I will make no objection to any thing, and I promise you
+that all my best efforts shall he directed toward finding them out."
+
+"Tell them to come to me, that I am rich, and can make them happy."
+
+"I'll make them go to you if they are alive," said Brandon.
+
+"God bless you!" ejaculated the old man, fervently.
+
+Brandon spent the greater part of that day in making business
+arrangements, and in reading the papers which Compton had preserved
+containing an account of the Despard murder.
+
+It was late at night before he returned to his hotel. As he went into
+the hall he saw a stranger sitting there in a lounging attitude reading
+the Sydney _News_.
+
+He was a thin, small-sized man, with a foreign air, and quick, restless
+manner. His features were small, a heavy beard and mustache covered
+his face, his brow was low, and his eyes black and twinkling. A sharp,
+furtive glance which he gave at Brandon attracted the attention of the
+latter, for there was something in the glance that meant more than idle
+curiosity.
+
+Even in the midst of his cares Brandon's curiosity was excited. He
+walked with assumed indifference up to the desk as though looking for
+the key of his room. Glancing at the hotel book his eye ranged down the
+column of names till it rested on the last one.
+
+"_Pietro Cigole_." --Cigole! the name brought singular associations.
+Had this man still any connection with Potts? The words of his father's
+letter rushed into his mind--"His arm may reach even to the antipodes
+to strike you. Be on your guard. Watch every one. He has some dark plan
+against you."
+
+With these thoughts in his mind Brandon went up to his room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+"A MAN OVERBOARD!"
+
+In so small a town as Sydney then was Brandon could hope to learn all
+that could be learned about Cigole. By casual inquiries he learned that
+the Italian had come out in the _Rival_, and had given out that he
+was agent for a London house in the wool business. He had bought up a
+considerable quantity which he was preparing to ship.
+
+Brandon could not help feeling that there was some ruse about this. Yet
+he thought, on the other hand, why should he flaunt his name so boldly
+before the world? If he is in reality following me why should he not
+drop his name? But then, again, why should he? Perhaps he thinks that
+I can not possibly know any thing about his name. Why should I? I was a
+child when Despard was murdered. It may be merely a similarity of names.
+
+Brandon from time to time had opportunities of hearing more about
+Cigole, yet always the man seemed absorbed in business.
+
+He wondered to himself whether he had better confide his suspicions to
+Mr. Compton or not. Yet why should he? The old man would become excited,
+and feel all sorts of wild hopes about discovering his wife and son.
+Could it be possible that the Italian after so many years could now
+afford any clew whatever? Certainly it was not very probable.
+
+On the whole Brandon thought that this man, whoever he was or whatever
+his purpose might be, would be encountered best by himself singly. If
+Mr. Compton took part he would at once awaken Cigole's fears by his
+clumsiness.
+
+Brandon felt quite certain that Mr. Compton would not know any thing
+about Cigole's presence in Sydney unless he himself told him. For the
+old man was so filled with trouble at the loss of his partner that he
+could think of nothing else, and all his thoughts were taken up with
+closing up the concern so as to send forward remittances of money to
+London as soon as possible. Mr. Compton had arranged for him to draw
+L2000 on his arrival at London, and three months afterward L3000-L10,000
+would be remitted during the following year.
+
+Brandon had come to the conclusion to tell Mr. Compton about Cigole
+before he left, so that if the man remained in the country he might
+be bribed or otherwise induced to tell what he knew; yet thinking it
+possible that Cigole had designed to return in the same ship with
+him, he waited to see how things would turn out. As he could not help
+associating Cigole in his mind with Potts, so he thought that whichever
+way he turned this man would try to follow him. His anticipations proved
+correct. He had taken passage in the ship _Java_, and two days before
+the vessel left he learned that Cigole had taken his passage in her
+also, having put on board a considerable quantity of wool. On the whole
+Brandon felt gratified to hear this, for the close association of a long
+sea voyage would give him opportunities to test this man, and probe him
+to the bottom. The thought of danger arising to himself did not enter
+his mind. He believed that Cigole meant mischief, but had too much
+confidence in his own powers to fear it.
+
+On the 5th of August the ship _Java_ was ready, and Mr. Compton stood on
+the quarterdeck to bid good-by to Brandon.
+
+"God bless you, dear boy! You will find the money coming promptly, and
+Smithers & Co.'s house is one of the strongest in London. I have brought
+you a parting gift," said he, in a low voice. He drew from his pocket
+a pistol, which in those days was less known than now--indeed, this was
+the first of its kind which had reached Australia, and Mr. Compton had
+paid a fabulous price for it. "Here," said he, "take this to remember me
+by. They call it a revolver. Here is a box of patent cartridges that go
+with it. It is from me to you. And mind," he continued, while there
+came over his face a vengeful look which Brandon had never seen there
+before--"mind, if ever you see John Potts, give him one of those
+patent cartridges, and tell him it is the last gift of a broken-hearted
+father."
+
+Brandon's face turned ghastly, and his lips seemed to freeze into a
+smile of deadly meaning.
+
+"God bless you." cried Compton, "I see by your face that you will do it.
+Good-by."
+
+He wrung Brandon's hand hard and left the ship.
+
+About six feet away stood Cigole, looking over the stern and smoking
+a cigar. He was near enough to hear what had been said, but he did not
+appear to have heard it. Throwing his cigar into the water, he plunged
+his hands into his pockets, and began whistling a lively air.
+
+"Aha, Capitano," said he, in a foreign accent, "I have brought my wool
+off at last."
+
+Brandon paced the deck silently yet watchfully.
+
+The good ship _Java_ went out with a fine breeze, which continued for
+some days, until at last nothing could be seen but the wide ocean. In
+those few days Brandon had settled himself comfortably on board, and had
+learned pretty well the kind of life which he would have to lead for
+the next six months or so. The captain was a quiet, amiable sort of a
+person, without much force of character; the mate was more energetic
+and somewhat passionate; the crew consisted of the average order of men.
+There was no chance, certainly, for one of those conspiracies such as
+Mr. Compton had hinted at as having taken place on the _Vishnu_; for in
+his account of that affair he evidently believed that Uracao had been
+made a scape-goat for the sins of the others.
+
+Brandon was soon on the best of terms with the officers of the ship. As
+to Cigole it was different. The fact of their being the only passengers
+on board might of itself have been a sufficient cause to draw them
+together; but Brandon found it difficult to pass beyond the extremest
+limits of formal intercourse. Brandon himself considered that his
+purposes would be best served by close association with this man; he
+hoped that in the course of such association he might draw something
+from Cigole. But Cigole baffled him constantly. He was as polite and
+courteous as all Italians are; he had an abundance of remarks all ready
+about the state of the weather, the prospects of the voyage, or the
+health of the seamen; but beyond these topics it was difficult to induce
+him to go. Brandon stifled the resentment which he felt toward this man,
+in his efforts to break down the barriers of formality which he kept up,
+and sought to draw him out on the subject of the wool trade. Yet here he
+was baffled. Cigole always took up the air of a man who was speaking to
+a rival in business, and pretended to be very cautious and guarded in
+his remarks about wool, as though he feared that Brandon would interfere
+with his prospects. This sort of thing was kept up with such great
+delicacy of management on Cigole's part that Brandon himself would have
+been completely deceived, and would have come to consider him as nothing
+more than a speculator in wool, had it not been for a certain deep
+instinct within him, which made him regard this man as one who was
+actuated by something far deeper than mere regards for a successful
+speculation.
+
+Cigole managed to baffle the most dextrous efforts and the most delicate
+contrivances of Brandon. He would acknowledge that he was an Italian,
+and had been in all parts of Italy, but carefully refrained from telling
+where he was born. He asserted that this was the first time that he had
+been in the Eastern seas. He remarked once, casually, that Cigole was a
+very common name among Italians. He said that he had no acquaintances at
+all in England, and was only going there now because he heard that there
+was a good market for wool. At another time he spoke as though much of
+his life had been passed in Marseilles, and hinted that he was a partner
+of a commercial house there.
+
+Cigole never made any advances, and never even met half-way those
+which Brandon made. He was never off his guard for one instant. Polite,
+smiling, furtive, never looking Brandon fairly in the face, he usually
+spoke with a profusion of bows, gestures, and commonplaces, adopting, in
+fact, that part which is always at once both the easiest and the safest
+to play--the non-committal, pure and perfect.
+
+It was cunning, but low cunning after all, and Brandon perceived that,
+for one who had some purpose to accomplish, with but a common soul
+to sustain him, this was the most ordinary way to do it. A villain of
+profounder cunning or of larger spirit would have pursued a different
+path. He would have conversed freely and with apparent unreserve; he
+would have yielded to all friendly advances, and made them himself; he
+would have shown the highest art by concealing art, in accordance with
+the hackneyed proverb, "Ars est celare artem."
+
+Brandon despised him as an ordinary villain, and hardly thought it worth
+his while to take any particular notice of him, except to watch him in a
+general way. But Cigole, on the contrary, was very different. His eyes,
+which never met those of Brandon fairly, were constantly watching him.
+When moving about the quarter-deck or when sitting in the cabin
+he usually had the air of a man who was pretending to be intent on
+something else, but in reality watching Brandon's acts or listening to
+his words. To any other man the knowledge of this would have been in
+the highest degree irksome. But to Brandon it was gratifying, since it
+confirmed his suspicions. He saw this man, whose constant efforts were
+directed toward not committing himself by word, doing that very thing by
+his attitude, his gesture, and the furtive glance of his eye. Brandon,
+too, had his part, but it was infinitely greater than that of Cigole,
+and the purpose that now animated his life was unintelligible to this
+man who watched him. But Cigole's whole soul was apparent to Brandon;
+and by his small arts, his low cunning, his sly observation, and many
+other peculiarities, he exhibited that which is seen in its perfection
+in the ordinary spy of despotic countries, such as used to abound most
+in Rome and Naples in the good old days.
+
+For the common spy of Europe may deceive the English or American
+traveler; but the Frenchman, the German, the Spaniard, or the Italian,
+always recognizes him.
+
+So Brandon's superior penetration discovered the true character of
+Cigole.
+
+He believed that this man was the same Cigole who had figured in the
+affair of the _Vishnu_; that he had been sent out by Potts to do some
+injury to himself, and that he was capable of any crime. Yet he could
+not see how he could do any thing. He certainly could not incite the
+simple-minded captain and the honest mate to conspiracy. He was too
+great a coward to attempt any violence. So Brandon concluded that he had
+simply come to watch him so as to learn his character, and carry back to
+Potts all the knowledge that he might gain.
+
+This was his conclusion after a close association of one month with
+Cigole. Yet he made up his mind not to lose sight of this man. To him he
+appeared only an agent in villainy, and therefore unworthy of vengeance;
+yet he might be made use of as an aid in that vengeance. He therefore
+wished to have a clew by which he might afterward find him.
+
+"You and I," said he one day, in conversation, "are both in the same
+trade. If I ever get to England I may wish some time to see you. Where
+can I find you?"
+
+Cigole looked in twenty different directions, and hesitated for some
+time.
+
+"Well," said he at last, "I do not think that you will wish to see me--"
+and he hesitated; "but," he resumed, with an evil smile, "if you
+should by any possibility wish to do so, you can find out where I am by
+inquiring of Giovanni Cavallo, 16 Red Lion Street, London."
+
+"Perhaps I may not wish to," said Brandon, coolly, "and perhaps I may.
+At any rate, if I do, I will remember to inquire of Giovanni Cavallo, 16
+Red Lion Street, London."
+
+He spoke with deep emphasis on the address. Cigole looked uncomfortable,
+as though he had at last made the mistake which he dreaded, and had
+committed himself.
+
+So the time passed.
+
+After the first few days the weather had become quite stormy.
+Strong head-winds, accompanied often by very heavy rains, had to
+be encountered. In spite of this the ship had a very good passage
+northward, and met with no particular obstacle until her course was
+turned toward the Indian Ocean. Then all the winds were dead against
+her, and for weeks a succession of long tacks far to the north and to
+the south brought her but a short distance onward. Every day made the
+wind more violent and the storm worse. And now the season of the equinox
+was approaching, when the monsoons change, and all the winds that sweep
+over these seas alter their courses. For weeks before and after this
+season the winds are all unsettled, and it seems as if the elements were
+let loose. From the first week in September this became manifest, and
+every day brought them face to face with sterner difficulties. Twice
+before the captain had been to Australia; and for years he had been in
+the China trade; so that he knew these seas well; but he said that he
+had never known the equinoctial storms begin so early, and rage with
+such violence.
+
+Opposed by such difficulties as these the ship made but a slow
+passage--the best routes had not yet been discovered--and it was the
+middle of September before they entered the Indian Ocean. The weather
+then became suddenly calm, and they drifted along beyond the latitude
+of the western extremity of Java, about a hundred miles south of the
+Straits of Sunda. Here they began to encounter the China fleet which
+steers through this strait, for every day one or more sails were
+visible.
+
+Here they were borne on helplessly by the ocean currents, which at this
+place are numerous and distracted. The streams that flow through the
+many isles of the Indian Archipelago, uniting with the greater southern
+streams, here meet and blend, causing great difficulties to navigation,
+and often baffling even the most experienced seaman. Yet it was not all
+left to the currents, for frequently and suddenly the storms came up;
+and the weather, ever changeful, kept the sailors constantly on the
+alert.
+
+Yet between the storms the calms were frequent, and sometimes long
+continued, though of such a sort as required watchfulness. For out of
+the midst of dead calms the storm would suddenly rise in its might, and
+all the care which experience could suggest was not always able to avert
+disaster.
+
+"I don't like this weather, Mr. Brandon. It's the worst that we could
+have, especially just here."
+
+"Why just here?"
+
+"Why, we're opposite the Straits of Sunda, the worst place about these
+parts."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"Pirates. The Malays, you know. We're not over well prepared to meet
+them, I'm afraid. If they come we'll have to fight them the best way we
+can; and these calms are the worst thing for us, because the Malay proas
+can get along in the lightest wind, or with oars, when we can't move at
+all."
+
+"Are the Malays any worse than usual now?" asked Brandon.
+
+"Well, no worse than they've been for the last ten years. Zangorri is
+the worst of them all."
+
+"Zangorri! I've heard of him."
+
+"I should think you had. Why, there never was a pirate in these seas
+that did so much damage. No mortal knows the ships that devil has
+captured and burned."
+
+"I hope you have arms for the seamen, at any rate."
+
+"Oh, we have one howitzer, and small-arms for the men, and we will have
+to get along the best way we can with these; but the owners ought never
+to send us here without a better equipment."
+
+"I suppose they think it would cost too much."
+
+"Yes; that's it. They think only about the profits, and trust to
+luck for our safety. Well, I only hope we'll get safely out of this
+place--that's all."
+
+And the captain walked off much more excited than usual.
+
+They drifted on through days of calm, which were succeeded by fierce
+but short-lived storms, and then followed by calms. Their course lay
+sometimes north, sometimes south, sometimes nowhere. Thus the time
+passed, until at length, about the middle of September, they came in
+sight of a long, low island of sand.
+
+"I've heard of that sand-bank before," said the captain, who showed some
+surprise at seeing it; "but I didn't believe it was here. It's not down
+in the charts. Here we are three hundred and fifty miles southwest of
+the Straits of Sunda, and the chart makes this place all open water.
+Well, seein's believin'; and after this I'll swear that there is such a
+thing as Coffin Island."
+
+"Is that the name?"
+
+"That's the name an old sea-captain gave it, and tried to get the
+Admiralty to put it on the charts, but they wouldn't. But this is it,
+and no mistake."
+
+"Why did he call it Coffin Island?"
+
+"Well, he thought that rock looked like a coffin, and it's dangerous
+enough when a fog comes to deserve that name."
+
+Brandon looked earnestly at the island which the captain mentioned, and
+which they were slowly approaching.
+
+It lay toward the north, while the ship's course, if it had any in that
+calm, was southwest. It was not more than six miles away, and appeared
+to be about five miles long. At the nearest extremity a black rock arose
+to a height of about fifty feet, which appeared to be about five hundred
+feet long, and was of such a shape that the imagination might easily see
+a resemblance to a coffin. At the farthest extremity of the island was
+a low mound. The rest of the island was flat, low, and sandy, with no
+trace of vegetation perceptible from the ship, except a line of dingy
+green under the rock, which looked like grass.
+
+The ship drifted slowly on.
+
+Meanwhile the captain, in anticipation of a storm, had caused all the
+sails to be taken in, and stood anxiously watching the sky toward the
+southwest.
+
+There a dense mass of clouds lay piled along the horizon, gloomy,
+lowering, menacing; frowning over the calm seas as though they would
+soon destroy that calm, and fling forth all the fury of the winds. These
+clouds seemed to have started up from the sea, so sudden had been their
+appearance; and now, as they gathered themselves together, their forms
+distended, and heightened, and reached forward vast arms into the sky,
+striving to climb there, rolling upward voluminous cloud masses which
+swiftly ascended toward the zenith. So quick was the progress of these
+clouds that they did not seem to come from the banks below; but it was
+rather as though all the air suddenly condensed its moisture and made it
+visible in these dark masses.
+
+As yet there was no wind, and the water was as smooth as glass; but over
+the wide surface, as far as the eye could reach, the long swell of the
+ocean had changed into vast rolling undulations, to the motion of which
+the ship yielded, slowly ascending and descending as the waters rose
+and fell, while the yards creaked, and the rigging twanged to the strain
+upon them.
+
+Every moment the sky grew darker, and as gloom gathered above so
+it increased below, till all the sea spread out a smooth ebon mass.
+Darkness settled down, and the sun's face was thus obscured, and a
+preternatural gloom gathered upon the face of nature. Overhead vast
+black clouds went sweeping past, covering all things, faster and faster,
+till at last far down in the northern sky the heavens were all obscured.
+
+But amidst all this there was as yet not a breath of wind. Far above the
+wind careered in a narrow current, which did not touch the surface of
+the sea but only bore onward the clouds. The agitation of the sky above
+contrasted with the stillness below made the latter not consoling but
+rather fearful, for this could be none other than that treacherous
+stillness which precedes the sudden outburst of the hurricane.
+
+For that sudden outburst all were now looking, expecting it every
+moment. On the side of the ship where the wind was expected the captain
+was standing, looking anxiously at the black clouds on the horizon, and
+all the crew were gazing there in sympathy with him. From that
+quarter the wind would burst, and it was for this assault that all the
+preparations had been made.
+
+[Illustration: "HE PUSHED HIM HEADLONG OVER THE RAIL AND HELPLESSLY INTO
+THE SEA."]
+
+For some time Brandon had watched the collecting clouds, but at
+length he turned away, and seemed to find a supreme fascination in the
+sand-bank. He stood at the stern of the ship, looking fixedly toward the
+rock, his arms folded, and his thoughts all absorbed in that one thing.
+A low railing ran round the quarter-deck. The helmsman stood in a
+sheltered place which rose only two feet above the deck. The captain
+stood by the companion-way, looking south at the storm; the mate was
+near the capstan, and all were intent and absorbed in their expectation
+of a sudden squall.
+
+Close by the rudder-post stood Cigole, looking with all the rest at the
+gathering storm. His face was only half turned, and as usual he watched
+this with only a furtive glance, for at times his stealthy eyes turned
+toward Brandon; and he alone of all on board did not seem to be absorbed
+by some overmastering thought.
+
+Suddenly a faint, fluttering ripple appeared to the southward; it came
+quickly: it seemed to flash over the waters; with the speed of the
+wind it moved on, till a quick, fresh blast struck the ship and sighed
+through the rigging. Then a faint breathing of wind succeeded; but
+far away there rose a low moan like that which arises from some vast
+cataract at a great distance, whose roar, subdued by distance, sounds
+faintly, yet warningly, to the ear.
+
+At this first touch of the tempest, and the menacing voice of its
+approach, not a word was spoken, but all stood mute. Brandon alone
+appeared not to have noticed it. He still stood with folded arms and
+absorbed air, gazing at the island.
+
+The roar of the waters in the distance grew louder, and in the direction
+from which it came the dark water was all white with foam, and the
+boiling flood advanced nearer in myriad-numbered waves, which seemed now
+like an army rushing to the charge, tossing on high its crested heads
+and its countless foam-plumes, and threatening to bear down all before
+it.
+
+At last the tornado struck.
+
+At the fierce blast of the storm the ship rolled far over, the masts
+creaked and groaned, the waves rushed up and dashed against the side.
+
+At that instant Cigole darted quickly toward Brandon, and the moment
+that the vessel yielded to the blow of the storm he fell violently
+against him. Before Brandon had noticed the storm or had time to steady
+himself he had pushed him headlong over the rail and helplessly into the
+sea--
+
+  "--liquidae projecit in undas
+  Praecipitem."
+
+Cigole clung to the rail, and instantly shrieked out:
+
+"Man overboard!"
+
+The startling cry rang through the ship. The captain turned round with a
+face of agony.
+
+"Man overboard!" shouted Cigole again. "Help! It's Brandon!"
+
+"Brandon!" cried the captain. "He's lost! O God!"
+
+He took up a hen-coop from its fastenings and flung it into the sea, and
+a couple of pails after it.
+
+He then looked aloft and to the south with eyes of despair. He could
+do nothing. For now the storm was upon them, and the ship was plunging
+furiously through the waters with the speed of a race-horse at the touch
+of the gale. On the lee-side lay the sand-bank, now only three miles
+away, whose unknown shallows made their present position perilous in the
+extreme. The ship could not turn to try and save the lost passenger; it
+was only by keeping straight on that there was any hope of avoiding that
+lee-shore.
+
+All on board shared the captain's despair, for all saw that nothing
+could be done. The ship was at the mercy of the hurricane. To turn was
+impossible. If they could save their own lives now it would be as much
+as they could do.
+
+Away went the ship--away, farther, and farther, every moment leaving at
+a greater distance the lost man who struggled in the waters.
+
+At last they had passed the danger, the island was left behind, and the
+wide sea lay all around.
+
+But by this time the storm was at its height; the ship could not
+maintain its proper course, but, yielding to the gale, fled to the
+northwest far out of its right direction.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+SINKING IN DEEP WATERS.
+
+Brandon, overwhelmed by the rush of waters, half suffocated, and
+struggling in the rush of the waves, shrieked out a few despairing cries
+for help, and sought to keep his head above water as best he could.
+But his cries were borne off by the fierce winds, and the ship as it
+careered madly before the blast was soon out of hearing.
+
+He was a first-rate swimmer, but in a sea like this it needed all
+his strength and all his skill to save himself from impending death.
+Encumbered by his clothes it was still more difficult, yet so fierce
+was the rush of wind and wave that he dared not stop for a moment in his
+struggles in order to divest himself of his clothing.
+
+At first, by a mere blind instinct, he tried to swim after the ship,
+as though by any possibility he could ever reach her again, but the
+hurricane was against him, and he was forced sideways far out of the
+course which he was trying to take. At last the full possession of his
+senses was restored, and following the ship no longer, he turned toward
+the direction where that sand island lay which had been the cause of his
+disaster. At first it was hidden from view by the swell of waves
+that rose in front, but soon rising upon the crest of one of these he
+perceived far away the dark form of the coffin-shaped rock. Here then
+before him lay the island, and toward this both wind and wave impelled
+him.
+
+But the rock was far to the right, and it might be that the island did
+not extend far enough to meet him as he neared it. It was about five
+miles in length, but in his efforts he might not be able to reach even
+the western extremity. Still there was nothing else to do but to try.
+Resolutely, therefore, though half despairingly, he put forth his best
+strength, and struggled manfully to win the shore.
+
+That lone and barren sand-bank, after all, offered but a feeble chance
+for life. Even if he did reach it, which was doubtful, what could he
+do? Starvation instead of drowning would be his fate. More than once it
+occurred to him that it would be better then and there to give up all
+efforts and let himself go. But then there came the thought of those
+dear ones who waited for him in England, the thought of the villain who
+had thrown him from the ship, and the greater villain who had sent him
+out on his murderous errand. He could not bear the idea that they should
+triumph over him so easily and so quickly. His vengeance should not be
+taken from him; it had been baffled, but it still nerved his arm.
+
+A half hour's struggle, which seemed like many hours, had brought him
+much nearer to the island, but his strength was almost exhausted. His
+clothes, caught in the rush of the waves, and clinging to him, confined
+the free action of his limbs, and lent an additional weight. Another
+half hour's exertion might possibly bring him to the shore, but that
+exertion hardly seemed possible. It was but with difficulty now that
+he could strike out. Often the rush of the waves from behind would
+overwhelm him, and it was only by convulsive efforts that he was able to
+surmount the raging billows and regain his breath.
+
+Efforts like these, however, were too exhaustive to be long continued.
+Nature failed, and already a wild despair came over him. For a quarter
+of an hour longer he had continued his exertions; and now the island was
+so near that a quarter of an hour more might bring him to it. But
+even that exertion of strength was now no longer possible. Faintly and
+feebly, and with failing limbs and fiercely-throbbing heart, he toiled
+on, until at last any further effort seemed impossible. Before him was
+the mound which he had noticed from the ship. He was at the western
+extremity of the island. He saw that he was being carried in such a
+direction that even if he did struggle on he might be borne helplessly
+past the island and out into the open sea. Already he could look past
+the island, and see the wide expanse of white foaming waves which
+threatened to engulf him. The sight weakened what little strength was
+left, and made his efforts even feebler.
+
+Despairingly he looked around, not knowing what he sought, but seeking
+still for something, he knew not what. In that last look of despair his
+eyes caught sight of something which at once gave him renewed hope.
+It was not far away. Borne along by the waves it was but a few yards
+distant, and a little behind him. It was the hen-coop which the Captain
+of the _Java_ had thrown overboard so as to give Brandon a chance for
+life. That last chance was now thrown in his way, for the hen-coop had
+followed the same course with himself, and had been swept along not very
+far from him.
+
+Brandon was nerved to new efforts by the sight of this. He turned and
+exerted the last remnants of his strength in order to reach this means
+of safety. It was near enough to be accessible. A few vigorous strokes,
+a few struggles with the waves, and his hands clutched the bars with the
+grasp of a drowning man.
+
+It was a large hen-coop, capable of keeping several men afloat. Brandon
+clung to this and at last had rest. Every minute of respite from such
+struggles as he had carried on restored his strength to a greater
+degree. He could now keep his head high out of the water and avoid the
+engulfing fury of the waves behind. Now at last he could take a better
+survey of the prospect before him, and see more plainly whither he was
+going.
+
+The sand-bank lay before him; the mount at the western extremity was in
+front of him, not very far away. The rock which lay at the eastern
+end was now at a great distance, for he had been swept by the current
+abreast of the island, and was even now in danger of being carried past
+it. Still there was hope, for wind and wave were blowing directly toward
+the island, and there was a chance of his being carried full upon its
+shore. Yet the chance was a slender one, for the set of the tide carried
+him beyond the line of the western extremity.
+
+Every minute brought him nearer, and soon his fate would be decided.
+Nearer and nearer he came, still clinging to the hen-coop, and making
+no efforts whatever, but reserving and collecting together all his
+strength, so as to put it forth at the final hour of need.
+
+But as he came nearer the island appeared to move more and more out of
+the line of his approach. Under these circumstances his only chance was
+to float as near as possible, and then make a last effort to reach the
+land.
+
+Nearer and nearer he came. At last he was close by it, but the extreme
+point of the island lay to the right more than twenty yards. This was
+the crisis of his fate, for now if he floated on any longer he would be
+carried farther away.
+
+The shore was here low but steep, the waters appeared to be deep, and a
+heavy surf dashed upon the island, and threw up its spray far over
+the mound. He was so near that he could distinguish the pebbles on the
+beach, and could see beyond the mound a long, flat surface with thin
+grass growing.
+
+Beyond this point was another a hundred yards away, but farther out of
+his reach, and affording no hope whatever. Between the two points there
+was an inlet into the island showing a little cove; but the surf just
+here became wilder, and long rollers careered one past another over
+the intervening space. It was a hopeless prospect. Yet it was his last
+chance.
+
+Brandon made up his mind. He let go the hen-coop, and summoning up all
+his strength he struck out for the shore. But this time the wind and sea
+were against him, bearing him past the point, and the waves dashed over
+him more quickly and furiously than before. He was swept past the
+point before he had made half a dozen strokes; he was borne on still
+struggling; and now on his left lay the rollers which he had seen. In
+spite of all his efforts he was farther away from the island than when
+he had left the hen-coop. Yet all hope and all life depended on the
+issue of this last effort. The fifteen or twenty minutes of rest and of
+breathing-space which he had gained had been of immense advantage, and
+he struggled with all the force which could be inspired by the nearness
+of safety. Yet, after all, human efforts can not withstand the fury of
+the elements, and here against this strong sea the strongest swimmer
+could not hope to contend successfully.
+
+  "Never I ween was swimmer
+  In such an evil case."
+
+He swam toward the shore, but the wind striking him from one side, and
+urging on the sea, drove him sideways. Some progress was made, but
+the force of the waters was fearful, and for every foot that he moved
+forward he was carried six feet to leeward. He himself saw this, and
+calculating his chances he perceived with despair that he was already
+beyond the first point, and that at the present rate there was no
+possibility of gaining the farther point.
+
+Already the waves leaped exultingly about him, dashing over him now
+more wildly, since he was exposed more than before to their full sweep.
+Already the rollers lay close beside him on his left. Then it seemed as
+though he would be engulfed. Turning his head backward with a last
+faint thought of trying to regain the hen-coop, so as to prolong life
+somewhat, he saw it far away out of his reach. Then all hope left him.
+
+He was now at the outermost line of rollers. At the moment that he
+turned his head a huge wave raised him up and bore him forward. He
+struggled still, even in that time of despair, and fought with his
+enemies. They bore him onward, however, none the less helplessly, and
+descending carried him with them.
+
+But now at last, as he descended with that wave, hope came back, and all
+his despair vanished.
+
+For as the wave flung him downward his feet touched bottom, and he stood
+for a moment erect, on solid, hard sand, in water that scarcely reached
+above his knees. It was for a moment only that he stood, however, for
+the sweep of the water bore him down, and he fell forward. Before he
+could regain himself another wave came and hurled him farther forward.
+
+By a violent effort he staggered to his feet. In an instant he
+comprehended his position. At this western end the island descended
+gently into the water, and the shoal which it formed extended for miles
+away. It was this shoal that caused the long rollers that came over them
+so vehemently, and in such marked contrast with the more abrupt waves of
+the sea behind.
+
+In an instant he had comprehended this, and had taken his course of
+action.
+
+Now he had foothold. Now the ground beneath lent its aid to his
+endeavor; he was no longer altogether at the mercy of the water. He
+bounded forward toward the shore in such a direction that he could
+approach it without opposing himself entirely to the waves. The point
+that stretched out was now within his reach. The waves rolled past it,
+but by moving in an oblique direction he could gain it.
+
+[Illustration: "HE STAGGERED UP A FEW PACES UPON THE SANDY DECLIVITY."]
+
+Again and again the high rollers came forward, hurling him up as they
+caught him in their embrace, and then casting him down again. As he was
+caught up from the bottom he sustained himself on the moving mass, and
+supported himself on the crest of the wave, but as soon as his feet
+touched bottom again he sprang forward toward the point which now
+became every minute more accessible. Wave after wave came, each was more
+furious, each more ravenous than the preceding, as though hounding one
+another on to make sure of their prey. But now that the hope of life
+was strong, and safety had grown almost assured, the deathlike weakness
+which but shortly before had assailed him gave way to new-born strength
+and unconquerable resolve.
+
+At length he reached a place where the rollers were of less dimensions.
+His progress became more rapid, until at length the water became
+exceedingly shallow, being not more than a foot in depth. Here the first
+point, where the mound was, protected it from the wind and sea. This was
+the cove which he had noticed. The water was all white with foam, but
+offered scarcely any resistance to him. He had but to wade onward to the
+shore.
+
+That shore was at last attained. He staggered up a few paces upon the
+sandy declivity, and then fell down exhausted upon the ground.
+
+He could not move. It was late; night came on, but he lay where he had
+fallen, until at last he fell into a sound sleep.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+THE MYSTERY OF COFFIN ISLAND.
+
+When Brandon awaked on the following morning the sun was already high in
+the sky. He rose at once and walked slowly up, with stiffened limbs,
+to a higher spot. His clothes already were partly dry, but they were
+uncomfortable and impeded his motion. He took off nearly every thing,
+and laid them out on the sand. Then he examined his pistol and the box
+containing cartridges. This box held some oil also, with the help of
+which the pistol was soon in good order. As the cartridges were encased
+in copper they were uninjured. He then examined a silver case which
+was suspended round his neck. It was cylindrical in shape, and the
+top unscrewed. On opening this he took out his father's letter and the
+inclosure, both of which were uninjured. He then rolled them up in a
+small compass and restored them to their place.
+
+He now began to look about him. The storm had ceased, the waves had
+subsided, a slight breeze was blowing from the sea which just ruffled
+the water and tempered the heat. The island on which he had been cast
+was low, flat, and covered with a coarse grass which grew out of the
+sand. But the sand itself was in many places thrown up into ridges, and
+appeared as though it was constantly shifting and changing. The mound
+was not far away, and at the eastern end of the island he could see the
+black outline of the rock which he had noticed from the ship. The length
+he had before heard to be about five miles; the width appeared about
+one mile, and in its whole aspect it seemed nothing better than the
+abomination of desolation.
+
+At the end where he was the island terminated in two points, between
+which there was the cove where he had found refuge. One of these points
+was distinguished by the mound already mentioned, which from where he
+stood appeared of an irregular oblong shape. The other point was low,
+and descended gently into the water. The island itself appeared to be
+merely the emergence of some sand-bank which, perhaps, had been formed
+by currents and eddies; for here the currents of the Strait of Sunda
+encounter those from the Southern and Indian oceans, and this bank lay
+probably near their point of union.
+
+A short survey showed him this. It showed him also that there was but
+little if any hope of sustaining life, and that he had escaped drowning
+only perhaps to perish by the more lingering agonies of starvation.
+
+Already hunger and thirst had begun to be felt, and how to satisfy these
+wants he knew not. Still he would not despair. Perhaps the _Java_ might
+return in search of him, and his confinement would only last for a day
+or so.
+
+He understood the act of Cigole in a way that was satisfactory to
+himself. He had thrown him overboard, but had made it appear like an
+accident. As he fell he had heard the shout "Man overboard!" and was now
+able to account for it in this way. So a faint hope remained that the
+captain of the _Java_ would not give him up.
+
+Still subsistence of some kind was necessary, and there was nothing
+to be done but to explore the sandy tract before him. Setting forth he
+walked toward the rock along the sea-shore. On one side toward the
+north the shore was shallow and sloped gently into the water; but on
+the southern side it descended more abruptly. The tide was out. A steep
+beach appeared here covered with stones to which myriads of shell-fish
+were attached. The sight of these suggested the idea to him that on the
+opposite side there might be clams in the sand. He walked over there in
+search of them. Here the slope was so gradual that extensive flats were
+left uncovered by the receding tide.
+
+When a boy he had been sometimes accustomed to wander on sand flats near
+his home, and dig up these clams in sport. Now his boyish experience
+became useful. Myriads of little holes dotted the sand, which he knew to
+be the indications of these molluscs, and he at once began to scoop in
+the sand with his hands. In a short time he had found enough to satisfy
+his hunger, and what was better, he saw all around an unlimited supply
+of such food.
+
+Yet food was not enough. Drink was equally necessary. The salt of these
+shell-fish aggravated the thirst that he had already begun to feel, and
+now a fear came over him that there might be no water. The search seemed
+a hopeless one; but he determined to seek for it nevertheless, and the
+only place that seemed to promise success was the rock at the eastern
+end. Toward this he now once more directed his steps.
+
+The island was all of sand except the rocks on the south beach and the
+cliff at the eastern end. Coarse grass grew very extensively over the
+surface, but the sand was fine and loose, and in many places thrown
+up into heaps of many different shapes. The grass grew in tufts or in
+spires and blades, thinly scattered, and nowhere forming a sod. The soil
+was difficult to walk over, and Brandon sought the beach, where the damp
+sand afforded a firmer foothold. In about an hour and a half he reached
+the rock.
+
+It was between five hundred and six hundred feet in length, and about
+fifty in height. There was no resemblance to a coffin now as Brandon
+approached it, for that likeness was only discernible at a distance. Its
+sides were steep and precipitous. It was one black solid mass, without
+any outlying crags, or any fragments near it. Its upper surface appeared
+to be level, and in various places it was very easy to ascend. Up one of
+these places Brandon climbed, and soon stood on the top.
+
+Near him the summit was somewhat rounded; at the farther end it was
+flat and irregular; but between the two ends it sank into a deep hollow,
+where he saw that which at once excited a tumult of hope and fear. It
+was a pool of water at least fifty feet in diameter, and deep too, since
+the sides of the rock went down steeply. But was it fresh or salt? Was
+it the accumulation from the showers of the rainy season of the tropics,
+or was it but the result of the past night's storm, which had hurled
+wave after wave here till the hollow was filled?
+
+With hasty footsteps he rushed toward the margin of the pool, and
+bent down to taste. For a moment or so, by a very natural feeling,
+he hesitated, then, throwing off the fever of suspense, he bent down,
+kneeling on the margin, till his lips touched the water.
+
+It was fresh! Yes, it was from the heavens above, and not from the sea
+below. It was the fresh rains from the sky that had filled this deep
+pool, and not the spray from the sea. Again and again he quaffed the
+refreshing liquid. Not a trace of the salt-water could be detected. It
+was a natural cistern which thus lay before him, formed as though for
+the reception of the rain. For the present, at least, he was safe.
+
+He had food and drink. As long as the rainy season lasted, and for
+some time after, life was secure. Life becomes doubly sweet after being
+purchased by such efforts as those which Brandon had put forth, and the
+thought that for the present, at least, he was safe did not fail to fill
+him with the most buoyant hope. To him, indeed, it seemed just then as
+if nothing more could be desired. He had food and drink in abundance. In
+that climate shelter was scarcely needed. What more could he wish?
+
+The first day was passed in exploring the rock to see if there was any
+place which he might select for his abode. There were several fissures
+in the rock at the eastern end, and one of these he selected. He then
+went back for his clothes, and brought them to this place. So the first
+day went.
+
+All the time his eyes wandered round the horizon to see if a sail might
+be in sight. After two or three days, in which nothing appeared, he
+ceased his constant watch, though still from time to time, by a natural
+impulse, he continued to look. After all he thought that rescue might
+come. He was somewhat out of the track of the China ships, but still not
+very much so. An adverse wind might bring a ship close by. The hope of
+this sustained him.
+
+But day succeeded to day and week to week with no appearance of any
+thing whatever on the wide ocean.
+
+During these long days he passed the greater part of his time either
+under the shelter of the rock, where he could best avoid the hot sun, or
+when the sea-breeze blew on its summit. The frightful solitude offered
+to him absolutely nothing which could distract his thoughts, or prevent
+him from brooding upon the hopelessness of his situation.
+
+Brooding thus, it became his chief occupation to read over and over
+his father's letter and the inclosure, and conjecture what might be his
+course of action if he ever escaped from this place. His father's voice
+seemed now to sound to him more imploringly than ever; and the winds at
+night, as they moaned round the rock, seemed to modulate themselves, to
+form their sounds to something like a wild cry, and wail forth, "Come
+home!" Yet that home was now surely farther removed than ever, and the
+winds seemed only to mock him. More sad and more despairing than Ulysses
+on the Ogygian shore, he too wasted away with home-sickness.
+
+[Greek: kateibeto se glukus aion noston oduromeno.]
+
+Fate thus far had been against him, and the melancholy recollections of
+his past life could yield nothing but despondency. Driven from home when
+but a boy, he had become an exile, had wandered to the other side of the
+world, and was just beginning to attain some prospect of a fortune when
+this letter came. Rising up from the prostration of that blow, he had
+struggled against fate, but only to encounter a more over-mastering
+force, and this last stroke had been the worst of all. Could he rally
+after this? Could he now hope to escape?
+
+Fate had been against him; but yet, perhaps, here, on this lonely
+island, he might find a turning-point. Here he might find that turning
+in the long lane which the proverb speaks of. "The day is darkest before
+the morn," and perhaps he would yet have Fate on his side.
+
+But the sternest and most courageous spirit can hardly maintain its
+fortitude in an utter and unmitigated solitude. St. Simeon Stylites
+could do so, but he felt that on the top of that pillar there rested
+the eyes of the heavenly hosts and of admiring mankind. It is when the
+consciousness of utter solitude comes that the soul sinks. When the
+prisoner thinks that he is forgotten by the outside world, then he loses
+that strength which sustained him while he believed himself remembered.
+
+It was the lot of Brandon to have this sense of utter desolation: to
+feel that in all the world there was not one human being that knew
+of his fate; and to fear that the eye of Providence only saw him with
+indifference. With bitterness he thought of the last words of his
+father's letter: "If in that other world to which I am going the
+disembodied spirit can assist man, then be sure, O my son, I will assist
+you, and in the crisis of your fate I will be near, if it is only to
+communicate to your spirit what you ought to do."
+
+A melancholy smile passed over his face as he thought of what seemed to
+him the utter futility of that promise.
+
+Now, as the weeks passed, his whole mode of life affected both mind and
+body. Yet, if it be the highest state of man for the soul to live
+by itself, as Socrates used to teach, and sever itself from bodily
+association, Brandon surely had attained, without knowing it, a most
+exalted stage of existence. Perhaps it was the period of purification
+and preparation for future work.
+
+The weather varied incessantly, calms and storms alternating; sometimes
+all the sea lying dull, listless, and glassy under the burning sky; at
+other times both sea and sky convulsed with the war of elements.
+
+At last there came one storm so tremendous that it exceeded all that
+Brandon had ever seen any where.
+
+The wind gathered itself up from the south-east, and for a whole day the
+forces of the tempest collected themselves, till at last they burst in
+fury upon the island. In sustained violence and in the frenzy of its
+assault it far surpassed that first storm. Before sundown the storm
+was at its height, and, though yet day, the clouds were so dense and so
+black that it became like night. Night came on, and the storm, and roar,
+and darkness increased steadily every hour. So intense was the darkness
+that the hand, when held close by the face, could not be distinguished.
+So restless was the force of the wind that Brandon, on looking out to
+sea, had to cling to the rock to prevent himself from being blown away.
+A dense rain of spray streamed through the air, and the surf, rolling
+up, flung its crest all across the island. Brandon could hear beneath
+him, amidst some of the pauses of the storm, the hissing and bubbling of
+foaming waters, as though the whole island, submerged by the waves, was
+slowly settling down into the depths of the ocean.
+
+Brandon's place of shelter was sufficiently elevated to be out of the
+reach of the waves that might rush upon the land, and on the lee-side
+of the rock, so that he was sufficiently protected. Sand, which he had
+carried up, formed his bed. In this place, which was more like the lair
+of a wild beast than the abode of a human being, he had to live. Many
+wakeful nights he had passed there, but never had he known such a night
+as this.
+
+There was a frenzy about this hurricane that would have been
+inconceivable if he had not witnessed it. His senses, refined and
+rendered acute by long vigils and slender diet, seemed to detect audible
+words in the voice of the storm. Looking out through the gloom his
+sight seemed to discern shapes flitting by like lightning, as though the
+fabled spirits of the storm had gathered here.
+
+It needed all the robust courage of his strong nature to sustain himself
+in the presence of the wild fancies that now came rushing and thronging
+before his mind. The words of his father sounded in his ears; he thought
+he heard them spoken from the air; he thought he saw an aged spectral
+face, wan with suffering and grief, in front of his cave. He covered
+his eyes with his hands, and sought to reason down his superstitious
+feeling. In vain. Words rang in his ears, muffled words, as though
+muttered in the storm, and his mind, which had brooded so long over his
+father's letter, now gave shape to the noise of winds and waves.
+
+"--In the crisis of your fate I will be near."
+
+"I shall go mad!" cried Brandon, aloud, and he started to his feet.
+
+But the storm went on with its fury, and still his eyes saw shapes, and
+his ears heard fantastic sounds. So the night passed until at last the
+storm had exhausted itself. Then Brandon sank down and slept far on into
+the day.
+
+When he awaked again the storm had subsided. The sea was still
+boisterous, and a fresh breeze blew which he inhaled with pleasure.
+After obtaining some shell-fish, and satisfying his appetite, he went to
+the summit of the rock for water, and then stood looking out at sea.
+
+His eye swept the whole circuit of the horizon without seeing any thing,
+until at length he turned to look in a westwardly direction where the
+island spread out before him. Here an amazing sight met his eyes.
+
+The mound at the other end had become completely and marvelously
+changed. On the previous day it had preserved its usual shape, but now
+it was no longer smoothly rounded. On the contrary it was irregular, the
+northern end being still a sort of hillock, but the middle and southern
+end was flat on the surface and dark in color. From the distance
+at which he stood it looked like a rock, around which the sand had
+accumulated, but which had been uncovered by the violent storm of the
+preceding night.
+
+At that distance it appeared like a rock, but there was something in its
+shape and in its position which made it look like a ship which had been
+cast ashore. The idea was a startling one, and he at once dismissed it
+as absurd. But the more he looked the closer the resemblance grew
+until at last, unable to endure this suspense, he hurried off in that
+direction.
+
+During all the time that he had been on the island he had never
+been close to the mound. He had remained for the most part in the
+neighborhood of the rock, and had never thought that a barren sand
+hillock was worthy of a visit. But now it appeared a very different
+object in his eyes.
+
+He walked on over half the intervening distance, and now the resemblance
+instead of fading out, as he anticipated, grew more close. It was still
+too far to be seen very distinctly: but there, even from that distance,
+he saw the unmistakable outline of a ship's hull.
+
+There was now scarcely any doubt about this. There it lay. Every step
+only made it more visible. He walked more quickly onward, filled with
+wonder, and marveling by what strange chance this vessel could have
+reached its present position.
+
+There it lay. It could not by any possibility have been cast ashore on
+the preceding night. The mightiest billows that ever rose from ocean
+could never have lifted a ship so far upon the shore. To him it was
+certain that it must have been there for a long time, and that the sand
+had been heaped around it by successive storms.
+
+As he walked nearer he regarded more closely the formation of this
+western end. He saw the low northern point, and then the cove where he
+had escaped from the sea. He noticed that the southern point where the
+mound was appeared to be a sort of peninsula, and the theory suggested
+itself to him by which he could account for this wonder. This ship, he
+saw, must have been wrecked at some time long before upon this island.
+As the shore was shallow it had run aground and stuck fast in the sand.
+But successive storms had continued to beat upon it until the moving
+sands which the waters were constantly driving about had gathered all
+around it higher and higher. At last, in the course of time, a vast
+accumulation had gathered about this obstacle till a new bank had been
+formed and joined to the island; and the winds had lent their aid,
+heaping up the loose sand on high till all the ship was covered. But
+last night's storm had to some extent undone the work, and now the wreck
+was once more exposed.
+
+Brandon was happy in his conjecture and right in his theory. All who
+know any thing about the construction and nature of sand islands such
+as this are aware that the winds and waters work perpetual changes. The
+best known example of this is the far-famed Sable Island, which lies off
+the coast of Nova Scotia, in the direct track of vessels crossing the
+Atlantic between England and the United States. Here there is repeated
+on a far larger scale the work which Brandon saw on Coffin Island. Sable
+Island is twenty miles long and about one in width--the crest of a vast
+heap of sand which rises out of the ocean's bed. Here the wildest storms
+in the world rage uncontrolled, and the keepers of the light-house have
+but little shelter. Not long ago an enormous flag-staff was torn from
+out its place and hurled away into the sea. In fierce storms the spray
+drives all across, and it is impossible to venture out. But most of all,
+Sable Island is famous for the melancholy wrecks that have taken place
+there. Often vessels that have the bad fortune to run aground are broken
+up, but sometimes the sand gathers about them and covers them up. There
+are numerous mounds here which are known to conceal wrecked ships. Some
+of these have been opened, and the wreck beneath has been brought to
+view. Sometimes also after a severe gale these sandy mounds are torn
+away and the buried vessels are exposed.
+
+[Illustration: "GREAT HEAVENS!" CRIED BRANDON, STARTING BACK--"THE
+'VISHNU!'"]
+
+Far away in Australia Brandon had heard of Sable Island from different
+sea captains who had been in the Atlantic trade. The stories which these
+men had to tell were all largely tinged with the supernatural. One in
+particular who had been wrecked there, and had taken refuge for the
+night in a hut built by the British Government for wrecked sailors, told
+some wild story about the apparition of a negro who waked him up at dead
+of night and nearly killed him with horror.
+
+With all these thoughts in his mind Brandon approached the wreck and at
+last stood close beside it.
+
+It had been long buried. The hull was about two-thirds uncovered. A vast
+heap of sand still clung to the bow, but the stern stood out full in
+view. Although it must have been there for a long time the planks were
+still sound, for they seemed to have been preserved from decay by the
+sand. All the calking, however, had become loose, and the seams gaped
+widely. There were no masts, but the lower part of the shrouds still
+remained, showing that the vessel was a brig. So deeply was it buried in
+the sand, that Brandon, from where he stood, could look over the whole
+deck, he himself being almost on a level with the deck. The masts
+appeared to have been chopped away. The hatchways were gone. The hold
+appeared to be filled with sand, but there may have been only a layer of
+sand concealing something beneath. Part of the planking of the deck as
+well as most of the taffrail on the other side had been carried away.
+Astern there was a quarter-deck. There was no skylight, but only
+dead-lights set on the deck. The door of the cabin still remained and
+was shut tight.
+
+All these things Brandon took in at a glance. A pensive melancholy came
+over him, and a feeling of pity for the inanimate ship as though she
+were capable of feeling. By a natural curiosity he walked around to the
+stern to see if he could read her name.
+
+The stern was buried deep in the sand. He had to kneel to read it.
+On the side nearest him the letters were obliterated, but he saw some
+remaining on the opposite side. He went over there and knelt down. There
+were four letters still legible and part of a fifth. These were the
+letters:
+
+  VISHN
+
+"Great Heavens!" cried Brandon, starting back--"the _Vishnu!_"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+THE DWELLER IN THE SUNKEN SHIP.
+
+After a moment of horror Brandon walked away for a short distance, and
+then turning he looked fixedly at the wreck for a long time.
+
+Could this be indeed _the_ ship--_the Vishnu_? By what marvelous
+coincidence had he thus fallen upon it? It was in 1828 that the _Vishnu_
+sailed from Calcutta for Manilla. Was it possible for this vessel to be
+preserved so long? And if so, how did it get here?
+
+Yet why not? As to its preservation that was no matter in itself for
+wonder. East Indian vessels are sometimes built of mahogany, or other
+woods which last for immense periods. Any wood might endure for eighteen
+years if covered up by sand. Besides, this vessel he recollected had
+been laden with staves and box shooks, with other wooden materials which
+would keep it afloat. It might have drifted about these seas till the
+currents bore it here. After all it was not so wonderful that this
+should be the _Vishnu_ of Colonel Despard.
+
+The true marvel was that he himself should have been cast ashore here on
+the same place where this ship was.
+
+He stood for a long time not caring to enter. His strength had been
+worn down by the privations of his island life; his nerves, usually like
+steel, were becoming unstrung; his mind had fallen into a morbid state,
+and was a prey to a thousand strange fancies. The closed doors of
+the cabin stood there before him, and he began to imagine that some
+frightful spectacle was concealed within.
+
+Perhaps he would find some traces of that tragedy of which he had heard.
+Since the ship had come here, and he had been cast ashore to meet it,
+there was nothing which he might not anticipate.
+
+A strange horror came over him as he looked at the cabin. But he was not
+the man to yield to idle fancies. Taking a long breath he walked
+across the island, and then back again. By that time he had completely
+recovered, and the only feeling now remaining was one of intense
+curiosity.
+
+This time he went up without hesitation, and climbed on board the
+vessel. The sand was heaped up astern, the masts gone, and the hatchways
+torn off, as has been said. The wind which had blown the sand away had
+swept the decks as clean as though they had been holy-stoned. Not a rope
+or a spar or any movable of any kind could be seen.
+
+He walked aft. He tried the cabin door; it was wedged fast as though
+part of the front. Finding it immovable he stepped back and kicked at it
+vigorously. A few sturdy kicks started the panel. It gradually yielded
+and sank in. Then the other panel followed. He could now look in and
+see that the sand lay inside to the depth of a foot. As yet, however, he
+could not enter. There was nothing else to do except to kick at it
+till it was all knocked away, and this after some patient labor was
+accomplished.
+
+He entered. The cabin was about twelve feet square, lighted by
+dead-lights in the deck above. On each side were two state-rooms
+probably intended for the ship's officers. The doors were all open. The
+sand had drifted in here and covered the floor and the berths. The floor
+of the cabin was covered with sand to the depth of a foot. There was
+no large opening through which it could enter: but it had probably
+penetrated through the cracks of the doorway in a fine, impalpable dust,
+and had covered every available surface within.
+
+In the centre of the cabin was a table, secured to the floor, as ships'
+tables always are; and immediately over it hung the barometer which was
+now all corroded and covered with mould and rust. A half dozen stools
+were around, some lying on their sides, some upside down, and one
+standing upright. The door by which he had entered was at one side, on
+the other side was another, and between the two stood a sofa, the shape
+of which was plainly discernible under the sand. Over this was a clock,
+which had ticked its last tick.
+
+On some racks over the closet there were a few guns and swords,
+intended, perhaps, for the defensive armament of the brig, but all in
+the last stage of rust and of decay. Brandon took one or two down, but
+they broke with their own weight.
+
+The sand seemed to have drifted more deeply into the state-rooms, for
+while its depth in the cabin was only a foot, in these the depth was
+nearly two feet. Some of the bedding projected from the berths, but it
+was a mass of mould and crumbled at the touch.
+
+Brandon went into each of these rooms in succession, and brushed out
+the heavy, wet sand from the berths. The rotten quilts and blankets fell
+with the sand in matted masses to the floor. In each room was a seaman's
+chest. Two of these were covered deeply; the other two but lightly:
+the latter were unlocked, and he opened the lids. Only some old clothes
+appeared, however, and these in the same stage of decay as every thing
+else. In one of them was a book, or rather what had once been a book,
+but now the leaves were all stuck together, and formed one lump of slime
+and mould. In spite of his most careful search he had thus far found
+nothing whatever which could be of the slightest benefit to him in his
+solitude and necessity.
+
+There were still two rooms which he had not yet examined. These were at
+the end of the cabin, at the stern of the ship, each taking up one half
+of the width. The sand had drifted in here to about the same depth as in
+the side-rooms. He entered first the one nearest him, which was on the
+right side of the ship. This room was about ten feet long, extending
+from the middle of the ship to the side, and about six feet wide. A
+telescope was the first thing which attracted his attention. It lay in a
+rack near the doorway. He took it down, but it fell apart at once, being
+completely corroded. In the middle of the room there was a compass,
+which hung from the ceiling. But the iron pivot had rusted, and the
+plate had fallen down. Some more guns and swords were here, but all
+rusted like the others. There was a table at the wall by the stern,
+covered with sand. An arm-chair stood close by it, and opposite this
+was a couch. At the end of this room was a berth which had the same
+appearance as the other berths in the other rooms. The quilts and
+mattresses as he felt them beneath the damp sand were equally decayed.
+Too long had the ship been exposed to the ravages of time, and Brandon
+saw that to seek for any thing here which could be of the slightest
+service to himself was in the highest degree useless.
+
+This last room seemed to him as though it might have been the captain's.
+That captain was Cigole, the very man who had flung him overboard. He
+had unconsciously by so doing sent him to the scene of his early crime.
+Was this visit to be all in vain? Thus far it seemed so. But might there
+not yet be something beneath this sand which might satisfy him in his
+search?
+
+There still remained another room. Might there not be something there?
+
+Brandon went back into the cabin and stood looking at the open doorway
+of that other room.
+
+He hesitated. Why? Perhaps it was the thought that here was his last
+chance, that here his exploration must end, and if nothing came of it
+then all this adventure would be in vain. Then the fantastic hopes and
+fears which by turns had agitated him would prove to have been absurd,
+and he, instead of being sent by Fate as the minister of vengeance,
+would be only the commonplace victim of an everyday accident.
+
+Perhaps it was some instinct within him that made known to his mind what
+awaited him there. For now as he stood that old horror came upon him
+full and strong. Weakness and excitement made his heart beat and his
+ears ring. Now his fancy became wild, and he recalled with painful
+vividness his father's words:
+
+"In the crisis of your fate I will be near."
+
+The horrors of the past night recurred. The air of the cabin was close
+and suffocating. There seemed in that dark room before him some dread
+Presence, he knew not what; some Being, who had uncovered this his abode
+and enticed him here.
+
+He found himself rapidly falling into that state in which he would not
+have been able either to advance or retreat. One overmastering horror
+seized him. Twice his spirit sought to overcome the faintness and
+weakness of the flesh. Twice he stepped resolutely forward; but each
+time he faltered and recoiled.
+
+Here was no place for him to summon up his strength. He could bear it
+no longer. He turned abruptly and rushed out from the damp, gloomy place
+into the warm, bright sunshine and the free air of heaven.
+
+The air was bright, the wind blew fresh. He drank in great draughts of
+that delicious breeze, and the salt sea seemed to be inhaled at each
+breath.
+
+The sun shone brilliantly. The sea rolled afar and all around, and
+sparkled before him under the sun's rays with that infinite laughter,
+that [Greek: anaerithmon gelasma] of which Aeschylus spoke in his deep
+love of the salt sea. Speaking parenthetically, it may be said that
+the only ones from among articulate speaking men who have found fitting
+epithets for the sea are the old Greek, the Scandinavian, and the
+Englishman.
+
+Brandon drew in new strength and life with every breath, till at last he
+began to think once more of returning.
+
+But even yet he feared that when he entered that cabin the spell would
+be on him. The thought of attempting it was intolerable. Yet what was
+to be done? To remain unsatisfied was equally intolerable. To go back to
+his rock was not to be thought of.
+
+But an effort must be made to get rid of this womanly fear; why should
+he yield to this? Surely there were other thoughts which he might call
+to his mind. There came over him the memory of that villain who had cast
+him here, who now was exulting in his fancied success and bearing back
+to his master the news. There came to him the thought of his father,
+and his wrongs, and his woe. There came to his memory his father's dying
+words summoning him to vengeance. There came to him the thought of those
+who yet lived and suffered in England, at the mercy of a pitiless enemy.
+Should he falter at a superstitious fancy, he--who, if he lived, had so
+great a purpose?
+
+All superstitious fancy faded away. The thirst for revenge, the sense of
+intolerable wrong arose. Fear and horror died out utterly, destroyed by
+Vengeance.
+
+"The Presence, then, is my ally," he murmured. "I will go and face It."
+
+And he walked resolutely, with a firm step, back into the cabin.
+
+Yet even then it needed all the new-born resolution which he had
+summoned up, and all the thought of his wrong, to sustain him as he
+entered that inner room. Even then a sharp thrill passed through him,
+and bodily weakness could only be sustained by the strong, resolute,
+stubborn soul.
+
+[Illustration: "THERE SEEMED A GHASTLY COMICALITY IN SUCH A THING AS
+THIS," ETC.]
+
+The room was about the size of the captain's. There was a table against
+the side, which looked like a leaf which could hang down in case of
+necessity. A trunk stood opposite the door, with the open lid projecting
+upward out of a mass of sand. Upon the wall there hung the collar of a
+coat and part of the shoulders, the rest having apparently fallen away
+from decay. The color of the coat could still be distinguished; it was
+red, and the epaulets showed that it had belonged to a British officer.
+
+Brandon on entering took in all these details at a glance, and then his
+eyes were drawn to the berth at the end of the room, where that Thing
+lay whose presence he had felt and feared, and which he knew by an
+internal conviction must be here.
+
+There It awaited him, on the berth. Sand had covered it, like a
+coverlet, up to the neck, while beyond that protruded the head. It was
+turned toward him: a bony, skeleton head, whose hollow cavities seemed
+not altogether vacancy but rather dark eyes which looked gloomily at
+him--dark eyes fixed, motionless; which had been thus fixed through the
+long years, watching wistfully for him, expecting his entrance through
+that doorway. And this was the Being who had assisted him to the shore,
+and who had thrown off the covering of sand with which he had concealed
+himself, so as to bring him here before him. Brandon stood motionless,
+mute. The face was turned toward him--that face which is at once human
+and yet most frightful since it is the face of Death--the face of a
+skeleton. The jaws had fallen apart, and that fearful grin which is
+fixed on the fleshless face here seemed like an effort at a smile of
+welcome.
+
+The hair still clung to that head, and hung down over the fleshless
+forehead, giving it more the appearance of Death in life, and lending a
+new horror to that which already pervaded this Dweller in the Ship.
+
+  "The nightmare Life-in-Death was he,
+  That thicks men's  blood with cold."
+
+Brandon stood while his blood ran chill, and his breath came fast.
+
+If that Form had suddenly thrown off its sandy coverlet and risen to
+his feet, and advanced with extended hand to meet him, he would not have
+been surprised, nor would he have been one whit more horror-stricken.
+
+Brandon stood fixed. He could not move. He was like one in a nightmare.
+His limbs seemed rigid. A spell was upon him. His eyes seemed to fasten
+themselves on the hollow cavities of the Form before him. But under that
+tremendous pressure he did not altogether sink. Slowly his spirit rose;
+a thought of flight came, but it was instantly rejected. The next moment
+he drew a long breath. "I'm an infernal fool and coward," he muttered.
+He took three steps forward, and stood beside the Figure. He laid his
+hand firmly upon the head; the hair fell off at his touch. "Poor devil,"
+said he, "I'll bury your bones at any rate." The spell was broken, and
+Brandon was himself again.
+
+Once more Brandon walked out into the open air, but this time there was
+not a vestige of horror left. He had encountered what he dreaded, and
+it was now in his eyes only a mass of bones. Yet there was much to think
+of, and the struggle which had raged within him had exhausted him.
+
+The sea-breeze played about him and soon restored his strength. What
+next to do was the question, and after some deliberation he decided at
+once to remove the skeleton and bury it.
+
+A flat board which had served as a shelf supplied him with an easy way
+of turning up the sand. Occupation was pleasant, and in an hour or two
+he had scooped out a place large enough for the purpose which he had in
+view. He then went back into the inner cabin.
+
+Taking his board he removed carefully the sand which had covered the
+skeleton. The clothes came away with it. As he moved his board along it
+struck something hard. He could not see in that dim light what it was,
+so he reached down his hand and grasped it.
+
+It was something which the fingers of the skeleton also encircled, for
+his own hand as he grasped it touched those fingers. Drawing it forth he
+perceived that it was a common junk bottle tightly corked.
+
+There seemed a ghastly comicality in such a thing as this, that this
+lately dreaded Being should be nothing more than a common skeleton, and
+that he should be discovered in this bed of horror doing nothing more
+dignified than clutching a junk bottle like a sleeping drunkard. Brandon
+smiled faintly at the idea; and then thinking that, if the liquor were
+good, it at least would be welcome to him in his present situation. He
+walked out upon the deck, intending to open it and test its contents.
+So he sat down, and, taking his knife, he pushed the cork in. Then he
+smelled the supposed liquor to see what it might be. There was only a
+musty odor. He looked in. The bottle appeared to be filled with paper.
+Then the whole truth flashed upon his mind. He struck the bottle upon
+the deck. It broke to atoms, and there lay a scroll of paper covered
+with writing.
+
+He seized it eagerly, and was about opening it to read what was written
+when he noticed something else that also had fallen from the bottle.
+
+It was a cord about two yards in length, made of the entrail of some
+animal, and still as strong and as flexible as when it was first made.
+He took it up carefully, wondering why such a thing as this should have
+been so carefully sealed up and preserved when so many other things had
+been neglected.
+
+The cord, on a close examination, presented nothing very remarkable
+except the fact that, though very thin, it appeared to have been not
+twisted but plaited in a very peculiar manner out of many fine strands.
+The intention had evidently been to give to it the utmost possible
+strength together with the smallest size. Brandon had heard of cords
+used by Malays and Hindus for assassination, and this seemed like the
+description which he had read of them.
+
+At one end of the cord was a piece of bronze about the size of a common
+marble, to which the cord was attached by a most peculiar knot. The
+bronze itself was intended to represent the head of some Hindu idol, the
+grotesque ferocity of its features, and the hideous grimace of the mouth
+being exactly like what one may see in the images of Mother Kali or
+Bowhani.
+
+At once the cord associated itself in his mind with the horrors which he
+had heard of as having been perpetrated in the names of these frightful
+deities, and it seemed now to be more than a common one. He carefully
+wound it up, placed it in his pocket, and prepared to examine the
+manuscript.
+
+The sun was high in the heavens, the sea-breeze still blew freshly,
+while Brandon, opening the manuscript, began to read.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+MANUSCRIPT FOUND IN A BOTTLE.
+
+"BRIG 'VISHNU,' ADRIFT IN THE CHINESE SEA.
+
+"July 10, 1828.
+
+"Whoever finds this let him know that I, Lionel Despard, Colonel of H.
+M. 37th Regiment, have been the victim of a foul conspiracy performed
+against me by the captain and crew of the brig _Vishnu_, and especially
+by my servant, John Potts.
+
+"Expecting at any time to perish, adrift helplessly, at the mercy
+of winds and waves, I sit down now before I die, to write all the
+circumstances of this affair. I will inclose the manuscript in a bottle
+and fling it into the sea, trusting in God that he may cause it to be
+borne to those who may be enabled to read my words, so that they may
+know my fate and bring the guilty to justice. Whoever finds this let
+him, if possible, have it sent to my friend, Ralph Brandon, of Brandon
+Hall, Devonshire, England, who will do more than any other man to cause
+justice to have its due.
+
+"To further the ends of justice and to satisfy the desires of my
+friends, I will write an account of the whole case.
+
+"In the name of God, I declare that John Potts is guilty of my death.
+He was my servant. I first found him in India under very remarkable
+circumstances.
+
+"It was in the year 1826. The Government was engaged in an effort to put
+down bands of assassins by whom the most terrific atrocities had been
+committed, and I was appointed to conduct the work in the district of
+Agra.
+
+"The Thuggee society is still a mystery, though its nature may yet be
+revealed if they can only capture the chief [Footnote: The chief was
+captured in 1830, and by his confession all the atrocious system of
+Thuggee was revealed.] and make him confess. As yet it is not fully
+known, and though I have heard much which I have reported to the
+Government, yet I am slow to believe that any human beings can actually
+practice what I have heard.
+
+"The assassins whom I was pursuing eluded our pursuit with marvelous
+agility and cunning, but one by one we captured them, and punished them
+summarily. At last we surrounded a band of Thugs, and to our amazement
+found among them a European and a small boy. At our attack the Hindus
+made a desperate resistance, and killed themselves rather than fall into
+our hands; but the European, leading forward the little boy, fell on his
+knees and implored us to save him.
+
+"I had heard that an Englishman had joined these wretches, and at first
+thought that this was the man; so, desirous of capturing him, I ordered
+my men whenever they found him to spare his life if possible. This man
+was at once seized and brought before me.
+
+"He had a piteous story to tell. He said that his name was John Potts,
+that he belonged to Southampton, and had been in India a year. He had
+come to Agra to look out for employ as a servant, and had been caught
+by the Thugs. They offered to spare his life if he would join them.
+According to him they always make this offer. If it had only been
+himself that was concerned he said that he would have died a hundred
+times rather than have accepted; but his little boy was with him, and
+to save his life he consented, hoping that somehow or other he might
+escape. They then received him with some horrible ceremonies, and marked
+on his arm and on the arm of his son, on the inner part of the right
+elbow, the name of Bowhani in Hindu characters. Potts showed me his arm
+and that of his son in proof of this.
+
+"He had been with them, according to his own account, about three
+months, and his life had been one continuous horror. He had picked up
+enough of their language to conjecture to some extent the nature of
+their belief, which, he asserted, would be most important information
+for the Government. The Thugs had treated him very kindly, for they
+looked upon him as one of themselves, and they are all very humane and
+affectionate to one another. His worst fear had been that they would
+compel him to do murder; and he would have died, he declared, rather
+than consent; but, fortunately, he was spared. The reason of this, he
+said, was because they always do their murder by strangling, since the
+shedding of blood is not acceptable to their divinity. He could not do
+this, for it requires great dexterity. Almost all their strangling
+is done by a thin, strong cord, curiously twisted, about six feet in
+length, with a weight at one end, generally carved so as to represent
+the face of Bowhani. This they throw with a peculiar jerk around the
+neck of their victim. The weight swings the cord round and round, while
+the strangler pulls the other end, and death is inevitable. His hands,
+he said, were coarse and clumsy, unlike the delicate Hindu hands; and
+so, although they forced him to practice incessantly, he could not
+learn. He said nothing about the boy, but, from what I saw of that boy
+afterward, I believe that nature created him especially to be a Thug,
+and have no doubt that he learned then to wield the cord with as much
+dexterity as the best strangler of them all.
+
+"His association with them had shown him much of their ordinary habits
+and some of their beliefs. I gathered from what he said that the basis
+of the Thuggee society is the worship of Bowhani, a frightful demon,
+whose highest joy is the sight of death or dead bodies. Those who are
+her disciples must offer up human victims killed without the shedding
+of blood, and the more he can kill the more of a saint he becomes.
+The motive for this is never gain, for they rarely plunder, but purely
+religious zeal. The reward is an immortality of bliss hereafter, which
+Bowhani will secure them; a life like that of the Mohammedan Paradise,
+where there are material joys to be possessed forever without satiety.
+Destruction, which begins as a kind of duty, becomes also at last, and
+naturally perhaps, an absorbing passion. As the hunter in pursuing his
+prey is carried away by excitement and the enthusiasm of the chase, or,
+in hunting the tiger, feels the delight of braving danger and displaying
+courage, so here that same passion is felt to an extraordinary degree,
+for it is men that must be pursued and destroyed. Here, in addition to
+courage, the hunter of man must call into exercise cunning, foresight,
+eloquence, intrigue. All this I afterward brought to the attention of
+the Government with very good results.
+
+"Potts declared that night and day he had been on the watch for a chance
+to escape, but so infernal was the cunning of these wretches, and so
+quick their senses, sharpened as they had been by long practice,
+that success became hopeless. He had fallen into deep dejection, and
+concluded that his only hope lay in the efforts of the Government to put
+down these assassins. Our appearance had at last saved him.
+
+"Neither I, nor any of my men, nor any Englishman who heard this story,
+doubted for an instant the truth of every word. All the newspapers
+mentioned with delight the fact that an Englishman and his son had been
+rescued. Pity was felt for that father who, for his son's sake, had
+consented to dwell amidst scenes of terror, and sympathy for the anguish
+that he most have endured during that terrific captivity. A thrill of
+horror passed through all our Anglo-Indian society at the revelation
+which he made about Thuggee; and so great was the feeling in his favor
+that a handsome subscription was made up for him by the officers at
+Agra.
+
+"For my part I believed in him most implicitly, and, as I saw him to be
+unusually clever, I engaged him at once to be my servant. He staid with
+me, and every month won more and more of my confidence. He had a good
+head for business. Matters of considerable delicacy which I intrusted
+to him were well performed, and at last I thought it the most fortunate
+circumstance in my Indian life that I had found such a man.
+
+"After about three years he expressed a wish to go to England for the
+sake of his son. He thought India a bad place for a boy, and wished to
+try and start in some business in his native land for his son's sake.
+
+"That boy had always been my detestation--a crafty, stealthy, wily,
+malicious little demon, who was a perfect Thug in his nature, without
+any religious basis to his Thuggeeism. I pitied Potts for being the
+father of such a son. I could not let the little devil live in my house;
+his cruelty to animals which he delighted to torture, his thieving
+propensities, and his infernal deceit, were all so intolerable. He
+was not more than twelve, but he was older in iniquity than many a
+gray-headed villain. To oblige Potts, whom I still trusted implicitly,
+I wrote to my old friend Ralph Brandon, of Brandon Hall, Devonshire,
+requesting him to do what he could for so deserving a man.
+
+"Just about this time an event occurred which has brought me to this.
+
+"My sweet wife had been ill for two years. I had obtained a faithful
+nurse in the person of a Mrs. Compton, a poor creature, but gentle and
+affectionate, for whom my dear love's sympathy had been excited. No one
+could have been more faithful than Mrs. Compton, and I sent my darling
+to the hill station at Assurabad in hopes that the cooler air might
+reinvigorate her.
+
+"She died. It is only a month or two since that frightful blow fell and
+crushed me. To think of it overwhelms me--to write of it is impossible.
+
+"I could think of nothing but to fly from my unendurable grief. I wished
+to get away from India any where. Before the blow crushed me I hoped
+that I might carry my darling to the Cape of Good Hope, and therefore
+I remitted there a large sum; but after she left me I cared not where
+I went, and finding that a vessel was going to Manilla I decided to go
+there.
+
+"It was Potts who found out this. I now know that he engaged the vessel,
+put the crew on board, who were all creatures of his own, and took the
+route to Manilla for the sake of carrying out his designs on me. To
+give every thing a fair appearance the vessel was laden with stores and
+things of that sort, for which there was a demand at Manilla. It was
+with the most perfect indifference that I embarked. I cared not where I
+went, and hoped that the novelty of the sea voyage might benefit me.
+
+"The captain was an Italian named Cigole, a low-browed, evil-faced
+villain. The mate was named Clark. There were three Lascars, who formed
+the small crew. Potts came with me, and also an old servant of mine,
+a Malay; whose life I had saved years before. His name was Uracao. It
+struck me that the crew was a small one, but I thought the captain knew
+his business better than I, and so I gave myself no concern.
+
+"After we embarked Potts's manner changed very greatly. I remember this
+now, though I did not notice it at the time, for I was almost in a
+kind of stupor. He was particularly insolent to Uracao. I remember
+once thinking indifferently that Potts would have to be reprimanded, or
+kicked, or something of that sort, but was not capable of any action.
+
+"Uracao had for years slept in front of my door when at home, and, when
+traveling, in the same room. He always waked at the slightest noise. He
+regarded his life as mine, and thought that he was bound to watch over
+me till I died. Although this was often inconvenient, yet it would have
+broken the affectionate fellow's heart if I had forbidden it, so it
+went on. Potts made an effort to induce him to sleep forward among
+the Lascars, but though Uracao had borne insolence from him without a
+murmur, this proposal made his eyes kindle with a menacing fire which
+silenced the other into fear.
+
+"The passage was a quick one, and at last we were only a few days' sail
+from Manilla. Now our quiet came to an end. One night I was awakened by
+a tremendous struggle in my cabin. Starting up, I saw in the gloom two
+figures struggling desperately. It was impossible to see who they were.
+I sprang from the berth and felt for my pistols. They were gone.
+
+"'What the devil is this?' I roared fiercely.
+
+"No answer came; but the next moment there was a tremendous fall, and
+one of the men clung to the other, whom he held downward. I sprang from
+my berth. There were low voices out in the cabin.
+
+"'You can't,' said one voice, which I recognized as Clark's. 'He has his
+pistols.'
+
+"'He hasn't,' said the voice of Cigole. 'Potts took them away. He's
+unarmed.'
+
+"'Who are you?' I cried, grasping the man who was holding the other
+down.
+
+"'Uracao,' said he. 'Get your pistols or you're lost!'
+
+"'What the devil is the matter?' I cried, angrily, for I had not even
+yet a suspicion.
+
+"'Feel around your neck,' said he.
+
+"Hastily I put my hand up. A thrill of terror passed through me. It was
+the Thuggee cord.
+
+"'Who is this?' I cried, grasping the man who had fallen.
+
+"'Potts,' cried Uracao. 'Your pistols are under your berth. Quick! Potts
+tried to strangle you. There's a plot. The Lascars are Thugs. I saw the
+mark on their arms, the name of Bowhani in Hindu letters.'
+
+"All the truth now seemed to flash across me. I leaped back to the berth
+to look under it for my pistols. As I stooped there was a rush behind
+me.
+
+"'Help! Clark! Quick!' cried the voice of Potts. 'This devil's
+strangling me!'
+
+"At this a tumult arose round the two men. Uracao was dragged off.
+Potts rose to his feet. At that moment I found my pistols. I could not
+distinguish persons, but I ran the risk and fired. A sharp cry followed.
+Somebody was wounded.
+
+"'Damn him!' cried Potts, 'he's got the pistols.'
+
+"The next moment they had all rushed out, dragging Uracao with them.
+The door was drawn to violently with a bang and fastened on the outside.
+They had captured the only man who could help me, and I was a prisoner
+at the mercy of these miscreants.
+
+"All the remainder of the night and until the following morning I heard
+noises and trampling to and fro, but had no idea whatever of what was
+going on. I felt indignation at the treachery of Potts, who, I now
+perceived, had deceived me all along, but had no fear whatever of any
+thing that might happen. Death was rather grateful than otherwise. Still
+I determined to sell my life as dearly as possible, and, loading my
+pistol once more, I waited for them to come. The only anxiety which I
+felt was about my poor faithful Malay.
+
+"But time passed, and at last all was still. There was no sound either
+of voices or of footsteps. I waited for what seemed hours in impatience,
+until finally I could endure it no longer. I was not going to die like a
+dog, but determined at all hazards to go out armed, face them, and meet
+my doom at once.
+
+"A few vigorous kicks at the door broke it open and I walked out. There
+was no one in the cabin. I went out on deck. There was no one there. I
+saw it all. I was deserted. More; the brig had settled down so low in
+the water that the sea was up to her gunwales. I looked out over the
+ocean to see if I could perceive any trace of them--Potts and the rest.
+I saw nothing. They must have left long before. A faint smoke in the
+hatchway attracted my attention. Looking there, I perceived that it had
+been burned away. The villains had evidently tried to scuttle the brig,
+and then, to make doubly sure, had kindled a fire on the cargo, thinking
+that the wooden materials of which it was composed would kindle readily.
+But the water had rushed in too rapidly for the flames to spread;
+nevertheless, the water was not able to do its work, for the wood cargo
+kept the brig afloat. She was water-logged but still floating.
+
+"The masts and shrouds were all cut away. The vessel was now little
+better than a raft, and was drifting at the mercy of the ocean currents.
+For my part I did not much care. I had no desire to go to Manilla or
+any where else; and the love of life which is usually so strong did not
+exist. I should have preferred to have been killed or drowned at once.
+Instead of that I lived.
+
+"She died on June 15. It was the 2d of July when this occurred which
+I have narrated. It is now the 10th. For a week I have been drifting
+I know not where. I have seen no land. There are enough provisions and
+water on board to sustain me for months. The weather has been fine thus
+far.
+
+"I have written this with the wish that whoever may find it will send
+it to Ralph Brandon, Esq., of Brandon Hall, Devonshire, that he may see
+that justice is done to Potts, and the rest of the conspirators. Let him
+also try, if it be not too late, to save Uracao. If this fall into the
+hands of any one going to England let it be delivered to him as above,
+but if the finder be going to India let him place it in the hands of the
+Governor-General; if to China or any other place, let him give it to
+the authorities, enjoining them, however, after using it, to send it to
+Ralph Brandon as above.
+
+"It will be seen by this that John Potts was in connection with the
+Thugs, probably for the sake of plundering those whom they murdered:
+that he conspired against me and tried to kill me; and that he has
+wrought my death (for I expect to die). An examination of my desk shows
+that he has taken papers and bank bills to the amount of four thousand
+pounds with him. It was this, no doubt, that induced him to make this
+attempt against me.
+
+"I desire also hereby to appoint Henry Thornton, Sen., Esq., of Holby
+Pembroke, Solicitor, my executor and the guardian of my son Courtenay,
+to whom I bequeath a father's blessing and all that I possess. Let him
+try to secure my money in Cape Town for my boy, and, if possible, to
+regain for him the four thousand pounds which Potts has carried off.
+
+"Along with this manuscript I also inclose the strangling cord.
+
+"May God have mercy upon my soul! Amen.
+
+"LIONEL DESPARD."
+
+"July 28.--Since I wrote this there has been a series of tremendous
+storms. The weather has cleared up again. I have seen no land and no
+ship.
+
+"July 31.--Land to-day visible at a great distance on the south. I know
+not what land it may be. I can not tell in what direction I am drifting.
+
+"August 2.--Land visible toward the southwest. It seems like the summit
+of a range of mountains, and is probably fifty miles distant.
+
+"August 5.--A sail appeared on the horizon. It was too distant to
+perceive me. It passed out of sight.
+
+"August 10.--A series of severe gales. The sea always rolls over the
+brig in these storms, and sometimes seems about to carry her down.
+
+"August 20.--Storms and calms alternating. When will this end?
+
+"August 25.--Land again toward the west. It seems as though I may be
+drifting among the islands of the Indian Archipelago.
+
+"September 2.--I have been sick for a week. Unfortunately I am beginning
+to recover again. A faint blue streak in the north seems like land.
+
+"September 10.--Open water.
+
+"September 23.--A series of storms. How the brig can stand it I can
+not see. I remember Potts telling me that she was built of mahogany
+and copper-fastened. She does not appear to be much injured. I am
+exceedingly weak from want and exposure. It is with difficulty that I
+can move about.
+
+"October 2.--Three months adrift. My God have mercy on me, and make
+haste to deliver me! A storm is rising. Let all Thy waves and billows
+overwhelm me, O Lord!
+
+"October 5.--A terrific storm. Raged three days. The brig has run
+aground. It is a low island, with a rock about five miles away. Thank
+God, my last hour is at hand. The sea is rushing in with tremendous
+violence, hurling sand upon the brig. I shall drift no more. I can
+scarcely hold this pen. These are my last words. This is for Ralph
+Brandon. My blessing for my loved son. I feel death coming. Whether the
+storm takes me or not, I must die.
+
+"Whoever finds this will take it from my hand, and, in the name of God,
+I charge him to do my bidding."
+
+This was the last. The concluding pages of the manuscript were scarcely
+legible. The entries were meagre and formal, but the hand-writing spoke
+of the darkest despair. What agonies had this man not endured during
+those three months!
+
+Brandon folded up the manuscript reverentially, and put it into his
+pocket. He then went back into the cabin. Taking the bony skeleton hand
+he exclaimed, in a solemn voice, "In the name of God, if I am saved, I
+swear to do your bidding!"
+
+He next proceeded to perform the last offices to the remains of Colonel
+Despard. On removing the sand something bright struck his eye. It was a
+gold locket. As he tried to open it the rusty hinge broke, and the cover
+came off.
+
+[Illustration: "THREE MONTHS ADRIFT."]
+
+It was a painting on enamel, which was as bright as when made--the
+portrait of a beautiful woman, with pensive eyes, and delicate,
+intellectual expression; and appeared as though it might have been worn
+around the Colonel's neck. Brandon sighed, then putting this in his
+pocket with the manuscript he proceeded to his task. In an hour the
+remains were buried in the grave on Coffin Island.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+THE SIGNAL OF FIRE.
+
+The wreck broke in upon the monotony of Brandon's island life and
+changed the current of his thoughts. The revelations contained in
+Despard's manuscript came with perfect novelty to his mind. Potts, his
+enemy, now stood before him in darker colors, the foulest of miscreants,
+one who had descended to an association with Thuggee, one who bore on
+his arm the dread mark of Bowhani. Against such an enemy as this he
+would have to be wary. If this enemy suspected his existence could he
+not readily find means to effect his destruction forever? Who could
+tell what mysterious allies this man might have? Cigole had tracked
+and followed him with the patience and vindictiveness of a blood-hound.
+There might be many such as he. He saw plainly that if he ever escaped
+his first and highest necessity would be to work in secret, to conceal
+his true name, and to let it be supposed that Louis Brandon had been
+drowned, while another name would enable him to do what he wished.
+
+The message of Despard was now a sacred legacy to himself. The duty
+which the murdered man had imposed upon his father must now be inherited
+by him. Even this could scarcely add to the obligations to vengeance
+under which he already lay; yet it freshened his passion and quickened
+his resolve.
+
+The brig was a novelty to him here, and as day succeeded to day he found
+occupation in searching her. During the hotter part of the day he busied
+himself in shoveling out the sand from the cavern with a board. In the
+cool of the morning or evening he worked at the hatchway. Here he soon
+reached the cargo.
+
+This cargo consisted of staves and short boards. All were blackened, and
+showed traces of fire. The fire seemed to have burned down to a depth of
+four feet, and two or three feet under the sides; then the water coming
+in had quenched it.
+
+He drew out hundreds of these staves and boards, which were packed in
+bundles, six boards being nailed together as box-shooks, and thirty or
+forty staves. These he threw out upon the deck and on the sand. What
+remained he drew about and scattered loosely in the hold of the vessel.
+He did this with a purpose, for he looked forward to the time when
+some ship might pass, and it would then be necessary to attract her
+attention. There was no way of doing so. He had no pole, and if he
+had it might not be noticed. A fire would be the surest way of drawing
+attention, and all this wood gave him the means of building one. He
+scattered it about on the sand, so that it might dry in the hot sun.
+
+Yet it was also necessary to have some sort of a signal to elevate
+in case of need. He had nothing but a knife to work with; yet patient
+effort will do much, and after about a week he had cut away the rail
+that ran along the quarter-deck, which gave him a pole some twenty feet
+in length. The nails that fastened the boards were all rusted so that
+they could not be used in attaching any thing to this. He decided
+when the time came to tie his coat to it, and use that as a flag. It
+certainly ought to be able to attract attention.
+
+Occupied with such plans and labors and purposes as these, the days
+passed quickly for two weeks. By that time the fierce rays of the sun
+had dried every board and stave so that it became like tinder. The ship
+itself felt the heat; the seams gaped more widely, the boards warped and
+fell away from their rusty nails, the timbers were exposed all over it,
+and the hot, dry wind penetrated every cranny. The interior of the hold
+and the cabin became free from damp, and hot and dry.
+
+Then Brandon flung back many of the boards and staves loosely; and after
+enough had been thrown there he worked laboriously for days cutting up
+large numbers of the boards into fine splints, until at last a huge pile
+of these shavings were accumulated. With these and his pistol he would
+be able to obtain light and fire in the time of need.
+
+The post which he had cut off was then sharpened at one end, so that he
+could fix it in the sand when the time came, should it ever come. Here,
+then, these preparations were completed.
+
+After all his labor in the cabin nothing was found. The bedding, the
+mattresses, the chests, the nautical instruments had all been ruined.
+The tables and chairs fell to pieces when the sand was removed; the
+doors and wood-work sank away; the cabin when cleared remained a wreck.
+
+The weather continued hot and dry. At night Brandon flung himself down
+wherever he happened to be, either at the brig or at the rock. Every day
+he had to go to the rock for water, and also to look out toward the sea
+from that side. At first, while intent upon his work at the ship, the
+sight of the barren horizon every day did not materially affect him; he
+rose superior to despondency and cheered himself with his task. But
+at length, at the end of about three weeks, all this work was done and
+nothing more remained. His only idea was to labor to effect his escape,
+and not to insure his comfort during his stay.
+
+Now as day succeeded to day all his old gloom returned. The excitement
+of the last few weeks had acted favorably upon his bodily health, but
+when this was removed he began to feel more than his old weakness. Such
+diet as his might sustain nature, but it could not preserve health. He
+grew at length to loathe the food which he had to take, and it was only
+by a stern resolve that he forced himself to swallow it.
+
+At length a new evil was superadded to those which had already afflicted
+him. During the first part of his stay the hollow or pool of water on
+the rock had always been kept filled by the frequent rains. But now for
+three weeks, in fact ever since the uncovering of the _Vishnu_, not a
+single drop of rain had fallen. The sun shone with intense heat, and the
+evaporation was great. The wind at first tempered this heat somewhat,
+but at last this ceased to blow by day, and often for hours there was a
+dead calm, in which the water of the sea lay unruffled and all the air
+was motionless.
+
+If there could only have been something which he could stretch over that
+precious pool of water he might then have arrested its flight. But he
+had nothing, and could contrive nothing. Every day saw a perceptible
+decrease in its volume, and at last it went down so low that he thought
+he could count the number of days that were left him to live. But his
+despair could not stay the operation of the laws of nature, and he
+watched the decrease of that water as one watches the failing breath of
+a dying child.
+
+Many weeks passed, and the water of the pool still diminished. At last
+it had sunk so low that Brandon could not hope to live more than another
+week unless rain came, and that now he could scarcely expect. The
+look-out became more hopeless, and at length his thoughts, instead of
+turning toward escape, were occupied with deliberating whether he would
+probably die of starvation or simple physical exhaustion. He began to
+enter into that state of mind which he had read in Despard's MSS., in
+which life ceases to be a matter of desire, and the only wish left is to
+die as quickly and as painlessly as possible.
+
+At length one day as his eyes swept the waters mechanically out of pure
+habit, and not expecting any thing, he saw far away to the northeast
+something which looked like a sail. He watched it for an hour before
+he fairly decided that it was not some mocking cloud. But at the end
+of that time it had grown larger, and had assumed a form which no cloud
+could keep so long.
+
+Now his heart beat fast, and all the old longing for escape, and the
+old love of life returned with fresh vehemence. This new emotion
+over-powered him, and he did not try to struggle with it.
+
+Now had come the day and the hour when all life was in suspense. This
+was his first hope, and he felt that it must be his last. Experience had
+shown that the island must lie outside the common track of vessels, and,
+in the ordinary course of things, if this passed by he could not hope to
+see another.
+
+Now he had to decide how to attract her notice. She was still far away,
+yet she was evidently drawing nearer. The rock was higher than the mound
+and more conspicuous. He determined to carry his signal there, and erect
+it somewhere on that place. So he took up the heavy staff, and bore it
+laboriously over the sand till he reached the rock.
+
+By the time that he arrived there the vessel had come nearer. Her
+top-sails were visible above the horizon. Her progress was very slow,
+for there was only very little wind. Her studding-sails were all set
+to catch the breeze, and her course was such that she came gradually
+nearer. Whether she would come near enough to see the island was another
+question. Yet if they thought of keeping a look-out, if the men in the
+tops had glasses, this rock and the signal could easily be seen. He
+feared, however, that this would not be thought of. The existence of
+Coffin Island was not generally known, and if they supposed that there
+was only open water here they would not be on the look-out at all.
+
+[Illustration: "STILL HE STOOD THERE, HOLDING ALOFT HIS SIGNAL."]
+
+Nevertheless Brandon erected his signal, and as there was no place on
+the solid rock where he could insert it he held it up in his own hands.
+Hours passed. The ship had come very much nearer, but her hull was not
+yet visible. Still he stood there under the burning sun, holding aloft
+his signal. Fearing that it might not be sufficiently conspicuous he
+fastened his coat to the top, and then waved it slowly backward and
+forward.
+
+The ship moved more slowly than ever; but still it was coming nearer;
+for after some time, which seemed to that lonely watcher like entire
+days, her hull became visible, and her course still lay nearer.
+
+Now Brandon felt that he must be noticed. He waved his signal
+incessantly. He even leaped in the air, so that he might be seen. He
+thought that the rock would surely be perceived from the ship, and if
+they looked at that they would see the figure upon it.
+
+Then despondency came over him. The hull of the ship was visible, but it
+was only the uppermost line of the hull. He was standing on the very top
+of the rock, on its highest point. From the deck they could not see the
+rock itself. He stooped down, and perceived that the hull of the ship
+sank out of sight. Then he knew that the rock would not be visible to
+them at all. Only the upper half of his body could by any possibility
+be visible, and he knew enough of the sea to understand that this
+would have the dark sea for a back-ground to observers in the ship, and
+therefore could not be seen.
+
+Still he would not yield to the dejection that was rapidly coming over
+him, and deepening into despair every minute. Never before had he so
+clung to hope--never before had his soul been more indomitable in its
+resolution, more vigorous in its strong self-assertion.
+
+He stood there still waving his staff as though his life now depended
+upon that dumb yet eloquent signal--as though, like Moses, as long
+as his arms were erect, so long would he be able to triumph over the
+assault of despair. Hours passed. Still no notice was taken of him.
+Still the ship held on her course slowly, yet steadily, and no change
+of direction, no movement of any kind whatever, showed that he had been
+seen. What troubled him now was the idea that the ship did not come
+any nearer. This at first he refused to believe, but at last he saw it
+beyond doubt, for at length the hull was no longer visible above the
+horizon.
+
+The ship was now due north from the rock, sailing on a line directly
+parallel with the island. It came no nearer. It was only passing by it.
+And now Brandon saw that his last hope of attracting attention by the
+signal was gone. The ship was moving onward to the west, and every
+minute would make it less likely that those on board could see the rock.
+
+During the hours in which he had watched the ship he had been busy
+conjecturing what she might be, and from what port she might have come.
+The direction indicated China almost undoubtedly. He depicted in his
+mind a large, commodious, and swift ship, with many passengers on
+their way back to England. He imagined pleasant society, and general
+intercourse. His fancy created a thousand scenes of delightful
+association with "the kindly race of men." All earthly happiness seemed
+to him at that time to find its centre on board that ship which passed
+before his eyes.
+
+The seas were bright and sparkling, the skies calm and deeply blue, the
+winds breathed softly, the white swelling sails puffed out like clouds
+against the blue sky beyond. That ship seemed to the lonely watcher like
+Heaven itself. Oh! to pass beyond the limits of this narrow sandy waste!
+to cross the waters and enter there! Oh! to reach that ship which moved
+on so majestically, to enter there and be at rest!
+
+It was not given him to enter there. Brandon soon saw this. The ship
+moved farther away. Already the sun was sinking, and the sudden night of
+the tropics was coming swiftly on. There was no longer any hope.
+
+He flung the staff down till it broke asunder on the hard rock, and
+stood for a few moments looking out at sea in mute despair.
+
+Yet could he have known what was shortly to be the fate of that
+ship--shortly, only in a few days--he would not have despaired, he would
+have rejoiced, since if death were to be his lot it were better to die
+where he was than to be rescued and gain the sweet hope of life afresh,
+and then have that hope extinguished in blood.
+
+But Brandon did not remain long in idleness. There was yet one
+resource--one which he had already thought of through that long day, but
+hesitated to try, since he would have to forsake his signal-station; and
+to remain there with his staff seemed to him then the only purpose of
+his life. Now since the signal-staff had failed, he had broken it,
+as some magician might break the wand which had failed to work its
+appropriate spell, and other things were before him. He took his coat
+and descended from the rock to make a last effort for life. He walked
+back through the gathering gloom toward the wreck. He did not run, nor
+did he in any way exhibit any excitement whatever. He walked with a firm
+step over the sand, neither hastening on nor lagging back, but advancing
+calmly.
+
+Before he had gone half-way it was dark. The sun had gone down in a sea
+of fire, and the western sky, after flaming for a time, had sunk into
+darkness. There was no moon. The stars shone dimly from behind a kind
+of haze that overspread the sky. The wind came up more freshly from
+the east, and Brandon knew that this wind would carry the ship which he
+wished to attract further and further away. That ship had now died out
+in the dark of the ebon sea; the chances that he could catch its notice
+were all against him, yet he never faltered.
+
+He had come to a fixed resolution, which was at all hazards to kindle
+his signal-fire, whatever the chances against him might be. He thought
+that the flames flaring up would of necessity attract attention, and
+that the vessel might turn, or lie-to, and try to discover what this
+might be. If this last hope failed, he was ready to die. Death had now
+become to him rather a thing to be desired than avoided. For he knew
+that it was only a change of life; and how much better would life be in
+a spiritual world than life on this lonely isle.
+
+This decision to die took away despair. Despair is only possible to
+those who value this earthly life exclusively. To the soul that looks
+forward to endless life despair can never come.
+
+It was with this solemn purpose that Brandon went to the wreck, seeking
+by a last chance after life, yet now prepared to relinquish it. He had
+struggled for life all these weeks; he had fought and wrestled for life
+with unutterable spiritual agony, all day long, on the summit of that
+rock, and now the bitterness of death was past.
+
+An hour and a half was occupied in the walk over the sand to the wreck.
+Fresh waves of dark had come over all things, and now, though there were
+no clouds, yet the gloom was intense, and faint points of light in the
+sky above showed where the stars might be. Where now was the ship
+for which Brandon sought? He cared not. He was going to kindle his
+signal-fire. The wind was blowing freshly by the time that he reached
+the place. Such a wind had not blown for weeks. It would take the ship
+away farther. What mattered it? He would seize his last chance, if it
+were only to put that last chance away forever, and thus make an end of
+suspense.
+
+All his preparations had long since been made; the dry wood lay loosely
+thrown about the hold; the pile of shavings and fine thread-like
+splinters was there awaiting him. He had only to apply the fire.
+
+He took his linen handkerchief and tore it up into fine threads, these
+he tore apart again and rubbed in his hand till they were almost as
+loose as lint. He then took these loose fibres, and descending into the
+hold, put them underneath the pile which he had prepared. Then he look
+his pistol, and holding it close to the lint fired it.
+
+The explosion rang out with startling force in the narrow hull of the
+ship, the lint received the fire and glowed with the sparks into spots
+of red heat. Brandon blew with his breath, and the wind streaming down
+lent its assistance.
+
+In a few moments the work was done.
+
+It blazed!
+
+But scarcely had the first flame appeared than a puff of wind came down
+and extinguished it. The sparks, however, were there yet. It was as
+though the fickle wind were tantalizing him--at one time helping, at
+another baffling him. Once more Brandon blew. Once more the blaze
+arose. Brandon flung his coat skirts in front of it till it might gather
+strength. The blaze ran rapidly through the fine splints, it extended
+itself toward the shavings, it threw its arms upward to the larger
+sticks.
+
+The dry wood kindled. A million sparks flew out as it cracked under the
+assault of the devouring fire. The flame spread itself out to a larger
+volume; it widened, expanded, and clasped the kindling all around in its
+fervid embrace. The flame had been baffled at first; but now, as if to
+assert its own supremacy, it rushed out in all directions with something
+that seemed almost like exultation. That flame had once been conquered
+by the waters in this very ship. The wood had saved the ship from the
+waters. It was as though the WOOD had once invited the FIRE to union,
+but the WATER had stepped in and prevented the union by force; as though
+the WOOD, resenting the interference, had baffled the assaults of the
+WATER, and saved itself intact through the long years for the embrace
+of its first love. Now the FIRE sought the WOOD once more after so many
+years, and in ardor unspeakable embraced its bride.
+
+Such fantastic notions passed through Brandon's fancy as he looked at
+the triumph of the flame. But he could not stay there long, and as he
+had not made up his mind to give himself to the flames he clambered up
+quickly out of the hatchway and stood upon the sand without.
+
+The smoke was pouring through the hatchway, the black voluminous folds
+being rendered visible by the glow of the flames beneath, which now had
+gained the ascendency, and set all the winds at defiance. Indeed it was
+so now that whatever wind came only assisted the flames, and Brandon, as
+he looked on, amused himself with the thought that the wind was like the
+world of man, which, when any one is first struggling, has a tendency to
+crush him, but when he has once gained a foothold exerts all its efforts
+to help him along. In this mood, half cynical, half imaginative, he
+watched the progress of the flames.
+
+Soon all the fine kindling had crumbled away at the touch of the fire,
+and communicating its own heat to the wood around, it sank down, a
+glowing mass, the foundation of the rising fires.
+
+Here, from this central heart of fire, the flames rushed on upon the
+wood which lay loosely on all sides, filling the hull. Through that wood
+the dry hot wind had streamed for many weeks, till every stave and every
+board had become dry to its utmost possibility. Now at the first breath
+of the flame the wood yielded; at the first touch it flared up, and
+prepared to receive the embrace of the fire in every fibre of its being.
+
+The flame rolled on. It threw its long arms through the million
+interstices of the loose piles of wood, it penetrated every where with
+its subtle, far-reaching power, till within the ship the glow broadened
+and widened, the central heart of fire enlarged its borders, and the
+floods of flame that flowed from it rushed with consuming fury through
+the whole body of the ship.
+
+Glowing with bright lustre, increasing in that brightness every moment,
+leaping up as it consumed and flashing vividly as it leaped up. A
+thousand tongues of flame streamed upward through the crannies of the
+gaping deck, and between the wide orifices of the planks and timbers
+the dazzling flames gleamed; a thousand resistless arms seemed extended
+forward to grasp the fabric now completely at its mercy, and the hot
+breath of the fire shriveled up all in its path before yet its hands
+were laid upon it.
+
+And fast and furious, with eager advance, the flames rushed on devouring
+everything. Through the hatchway, around which the fiercest fires
+gathered, the stream of flame rose impetuously on high, in a straight
+upward torrent, hurling up a vast pyramid of fire to the ebon skies, a
+[Greek: phlogos migan pogona] which, like that which once illumed the
+Slavonic strait with the signal-fire first caught from burning Troy,
+here threw its radiance far over the deep.
+
+While the lighter wood lasted the flame was in the ascendant, and
+nobly it did its work. Whatever could be done by bright radiance and
+far-penetrating lustre was done here. If that ship which had passed
+held any men on board capable of feeling a human interest in the visible
+signs of calamity at sea, they would be able to read in this flame that
+there was disaster somewhere upon these waters, and if they had human
+hearts they would turn to see if there was not some suffering which they
+might relieve.
+
+But the lighter and the dryer wood was at last consumed, and now there
+remained that which Brandon had never touched, the dense masses which
+still lay piled where they had been placed eighteen years before. Upon
+these the fire now marched. But already the long days and weeks of
+scorching sun and fierce wind had not been without their effects, and
+the dampness had been subdued. Besides, the fire that advanced upon them
+had already gained immense advantage; for one half of the brig was
+one glowing mass of heat, which sent forth its consuming forces, and
+withered up, and blighted, and annihilated all around. The close-bound
+and close-packed masses of staves and boards received the resistless
+embrace of the fire, and where they did not flame they still gave forth
+none the less a blazeless glow.
+
+Now from the burning vessel the flame arose no more; but in its
+place there appeared that which sent forth as vivid a gleam, and as
+far-flashing a light. The fire had full sway, though it gave forth no
+blaze, and, while it gleamed but little, still it devoured. From the
+sides of the ship the planks, blasted by the intense heat and by the
+outburst of the flames, had sprung away, and now for nearly all the
+length of the vessel the timbers were exposed without any covering.
+Between these flashed forth the gleam of the fire inside, which now in
+one pure mass glowed with dazzling brightness and intense heat.
+
+But the wood inside, damp as it was, and solid in its fibre, did not
+allow a very swift progress to the fire. It burned, but it burned
+slowly. It glowed like the charcoal of a furnace from behind its wooden
+bars.
+
+The massive timbers of mahogany wood yielded slowly and stubbornly
+to the conflagration. They stood up like iron bars long after all the
+interior was one glowing mass. But, though they yielded slowly, still
+they had to yield with the passage of hours to the progress of the fire.
+And so it came to pass that at length the strong sides, sapped by
+the steady and resistless assault, surrendered. One by one the stout
+timbers, now wasted and weakened, gave way and sank down into the fervid
+mass beneath. At last the whole centre was one accumulation of glowing
+ashes, and all that remained were the bow, covered with sand, and the
+stern, with the quarter-deck.
+
+The fire spread in both directions. The stern yielded first. Here the
+strong deck sustained for a time the onset of the fire that had consumed
+every thing beneath, but at last it sunk in; the timbers of the sides
+followed next, and all had gone. With the bow there was a longer and
+a harder struggle. The fire had penetrated far into that part of the
+vessel; the flames smouldered there, but the conflagration went on, and
+smoke and blue flames issued from every part of that sandy mound, which,
+fiercely assailed by the heat, gave way in every direction, broke into
+a million crevices, and in places melted and ran together in a glowing
+molten heap. Here the fires burned longer, and here they lived and
+gleamed until morning.
+
+Long before morning Brandon had fallen asleep. He had stood first near
+the burning wreck. Then the heat forced him to move away, and he had
+gone to a ridge of sand, where this peninsula joined the island. There
+he sat down, watching the conflagration for a long time. There the light
+flashed, and if that ship for whom he was signaling had noticed this
+sign, and had examined the island, his figure could be seen to any one
+that chose to examine.
+
+But hours passed on. He strained his eyes through the gloom in the
+direction in which the ship had vanished to see if there were any sign
+there. None appeared. The progress of the fire was slow. It went on
+burning and glowing with wonderful energy all through the night, till at
+last, not long before dawn, the stern fell in, and nothing now was left
+but the sand-mound that covered the bows, which, burning beneath, gave
+forth smoke and fire.
+
+Then, exhausted by fatigue, he sank down on the sand and fell into a
+sound sleep.
+
+In the midst of thronging dreams, from the depths of that imaginary land
+where his weary spirit wandered in sleep, he was suddenly roused. A hand
+was laid on his shoulder, which shook him roughly, and a hoarse voice
+shouted in his ear, "Mess-mate! Halloo, mess-mate! Wake up!"
+
+Brandon started up and gazed with wild, astonished eyes around. It was
+day. The sun was two or three hours above the horizon. He was surrounded
+by half a dozen seamen, who were regarding him with wondering but kindly
+eyes. The one who spoke appeared to be their leader. He held a spy-glass
+in his hand. He was a sturdy, thick-set man of about fifty, whose
+grizzled hair, weather-beaten face, groggy nose, and whiskers, coming
+all round under his chin, gave him the air of old Benbow as he appears
+on the stage--"a reg'lar old salt," "sea-dog," or whatever other name
+the popular taste loves to apply to the British tar.
+
+"Hard luck here, mess-mate," said this man, with a smile. "But you're
+all right now. Come! Cheer up! Won't you take a drink?" And he held out
+a brandy-flask.
+
+Brandon rose mechanically in a kind of maze, not yet understanding his
+good fortune, not yet knowing whether he was alive or dead. He took the
+flask and raised it to his lips. The inspiriting draught gave him new
+life. He looked earnestly at the Captain as he handed it back, and then
+seized both his hands.
+
+"God Almighty bless you for this, noble friend, whoever you are! But how
+and when did you get here? Who are you? Did you not see my signal on the
+rock yesterday--?"
+
+"One question at a time, mess-mate," said the other, laughingly. "I'm
+Captain Corbet, of the ship _Falcon_, bound from Sydney to London, and
+these are some of my men. We saw this light last night about midnight,
+right on our weather-bow, and came up to see what it was. We found shoal
+water, and kept off till morning. There's the _Falcon_, Sir."
+
+The Captain waved his hand proudly to where a large, handsome ship lay,
+about seven miles away to the south.
+
+"On your bow? Did you see the fire _ahead_ of you?" asked Brandon, who
+now began to comprehend the situation.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then you didn't pass me toward the north yesterday?"
+
+"No; never was near this place before this morning."
+
+"It must have been some other ship, then," said Brandon, musingly.
+
+"But how did you get here, and how long have you been here?"
+
+Brandon had long since decided on the part he was to play. His story was
+all ready.
+
+"My name is Edward Wheeler. I came out supercargo in the brig _Argo_,
+with a cargo of hogshead staves and box shooks from London to Manilla.
+On the 16th of September last we encountered a tremendous storm and
+struck on this sand-bank. It is not down on any of the charts. The
+vessel stuck hard and fast, and the sea made a clean breach over us.
+The captain and crew put out the boat, and tried to get away, but were
+swamped and drowned. I staid by the wreck till morning. The vessel stood
+the storm well, for she had a solid cargo, was strongly built, and the
+sand formed rapidly all about her. The storm lasted for several days,
+and by the end of that time a shoal had formed. Several storms have
+occurred since, and have heaped the sand all over her. I have lived here
+ever since in great misery. Yesterday a vessel passed, and I put up a
+signal on the rock over there, which she did not notice. In despair I
+set fire to the brig, which was loaded with wood and burned easily. I
+watched till morning, and then fell asleep. You found me so. That's all
+I have to say."
+
+On hearing this story nothing could exceed the kindness and sympathy of
+these honest-hearted seamen. The Captain insisted on his taking another
+drink, apologized for having to carry him back to England, and finally
+hurried him off to the boat. Before two hours Brandon stood on the deck
+of the _Falcon_.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+THE MALAY PIRATE
+
+Two days had passed since Brandon's rescue. The light wind which had
+brought up the _Falcon_ soon died out, and before the island had been
+left far behind a calm succeeded, and there was nothing left but to
+drift.
+
+A calm in other seas is stillness; here on the Indian Ocean it is
+stagnation. The calmness is like Egyptian darkness. It may be felt. The
+stagnation of the waters seems deep enough to destroy all life there.
+The air is thick, oppressive, feverish; there is not a breath or a
+murmur of wind; even the swell of ocean, which is never-ending, here
+approaches as near as possible to an end. The ocean rolled but slightly,
+but the light undulations gave a lazy, listless motion to the ship, the
+span creaked monotonously, and the great sails napped idly in the air.
+
+At such a time the calm itself is sufficiently dreary, but now there
+was something which made all things still more drear. For the calm was
+attended by a thick fog; not a moist, drizzling fog like those of the
+North Atlantic, but a sultry, dense, dry fog; a fog which gave greater
+emphasis to the heat, and, instead of alleviating it, made it more
+oppressive.
+
+It was so thick that it was not possible while standing at the wheel to
+see the forecastle. Aloft, all the heavens were hidden in a canopy of
+sickly gray; beneath, the sea showed the same color. Its glassy surface
+exhibited not a ripple. A small space only surrounded the vessel, and
+beyond all things were lost to view.
+
+The sailors were scattered about the ship in groups. Some had ascended
+to the tops with a faint hope of finding more air; some were lying flat
+on their faces on the forecastle; others had sought those places which
+were under the sails where the occasional flap of the broad canvas sent
+down a slight current of air.
+
+The Captain was standing on the quarter-deck, while Brandon was seated
+on a stool near the wheel. He had been treated by the Captain with
+unbounded hospitality, and supplied with every thing that he could wish.
+
+"The fact is," said the Captain, who had been conversing with Brandon,
+"I don't like calms any where, still less calms with fogs, and least of
+all, calms off these infernal islands."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because to the north'ard is the Strait of Sunda, and the Malay pirates
+are always cruising about, often as far as this. Did you ever happen to
+hear of Zangorri?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, all I can say is, if you hadn't been wrecked, you'd have probably
+had your throat cut by that devil."
+
+"Can't any body catch him?"
+
+"They don't catch him at any rate. Whether they can or not is another
+question."
+
+"Have you arms?"
+
+"Yes. I've got enough to give Zangorri a pleasanter reception than he
+usually gets from a merchant-ship; and my lads are the boys that can use
+them."
+
+"I wonder what has become of that other ship that passed me on the
+island," said Brandon, after a pause.
+
+"She can't be very far away from us," replied the Captain, "and we may
+come up with her before we get to the Cape."
+
+A silence followed. Suddenly the Captain's attention was arrested by
+something. He raised his hand to his ear and listened very attentively.
+"Do you hear that?" he asked, quickly.
+
+Brandon arose and walked to where the Captain was. Then both listened.
+And over the sea there came unmistakable sounds. The regular movement of
+oars! Oars out on the Indian Ocean! Yet the sound was unmistakable.
+
+"It must be some poor devils that have escaped from shipwreck," said the
+Captain, half to himself.
+
+"Well, fire a gun."
+
+"No," said the Captain, cautiously, after a pause. "It may be somebody
+else. Wait a bit."
+
+So they waited a little while. Suddenly there came a cry of human
+voices--a volley of guns! Shrieks, yells of defiance, shouts of triumph,
+howls of rage or of pain, all softened by the distance, and all in their
+unison sounding appallingly as they were borne through the gloom of the
+fog.
+
+Instantly every man in the ship bounded to his feet. They had not heard
+the first sounds, but these they heard, and in that superstition which
+is natural to the sailor, each man's first thought was that the noises
+came from the sky, and so each looked with a stupefied countenance at
+his neighbor.
+
+But the Captain did not share the common feeling. "I knew it!" he cried.
+"I expected it, and blow my old eyes out if I don't catch 'em this
+time!"
+
+"What?" cried Brandon.
+
+But the Captain did not hear. Instantly his whole demeanor was changed.
+He sprang to the companion-way. He spoke but one word, not in a loud
+voice, but in tones so stern, so startling, that every man in the ship
+heard the word:
+
+"Zangorri!"
+
+All knew what it meant. It meant that the most blood-thirsty pirate of
+these Eastern seas was attacking some ship behind that veil of fog.
+
+And what ship? This was the thought that came to Brandon. Could it
+by any possibility be the one which passed by him when he strove so
+earnestly to gain her attention!
+
+"Out with the long-boat! Load the carronade! Man the boat! Hurry up,
+lads, for God's sake!" And the Captain dashed down into the cabin. In an
+instant he was back again, buckling on a belt with a couple of pistols
+in it, and calling to his men, "Don't shout, don't cheer, but hurry, for
+God's sake!"
+
+And the men rushed about, some collecting arms, others laboring at the
+boat. The _Falcon_ was well supplied with arms, as the Captain had said.
+Three guns, any quantity of smaller arms, and a long Tom, formed her
+armament, while the long-boat had a carronade in her bows. Thanks to the
+snug and orderly arrangement of the ship, every thing was soon ready.
+The long-boat was out and afloat. All the seamen except four were on
+board, and the Captain went down last.
+
+"Now, pull away, lads!" he cried; "no talking," and he took the tiller
+ropes. As he seated himself he looked toward the bows, and his eyes
+encountered the calm face of Brandon.
+
+"What! you here?" he cried, with unmistakable delight.
+
+Brandon's reply consisted simply in drawing a revolver from his pocket.
+
+"You're a brick!" said the Captain.
+
+Not another word was spoken. The Captain steered the boat toward
+the direction from which the sounds came. These grew louder every
+moment--more menacing, and more terrible.
+
+The sailors put all their strength to the oars, and drove the great boat
+through the water. To their impatience it seemed as though they would
+never get there. Yet the place which they desired to reach was not
+far away;--the sounds were now very near; and at length, as they drove
+onward, the tall sides of a ship burst on their sight through the gloom.
+By its side was a boat of the kind that is used by the Malays. On board
+the ship a large number of savage figures were rushing about in mad
+ferocity.
+
+In a moment the boat was seen. A shout rose from the Malays. A score of
+them clambered swiftly down the ship's side to their boat, and a panic
+seemed to seize all the rest, who stood looking around irresolutely for
+some way of escape.
+
+The boatswain was in the bows of the long-boat and as the Malays crowded
+into their craft he took aim with the carronade and fired. The explosion
+thundered through the air. A terrific shriek followed. The next instant
+the Malay boat, filled with writhing dusky figures, went down beneath
+the waters.
+
+The long-boat immediately after touched the side of the ship. Brandon
+grasped a rope with his left hand, and, holding his revolver in his
+right, leaped upward. A Malay with uplifted knife struck at him. Bang!
+went the revolver and the Malay fell dead. The next instant Brandon was
+on board, followed by all the sailors who sprang upward and clambered
+into the vessel before the Malays could rally from the first shock of
+surprise.
+
+But the panic was arrested by a man who bounded upon deck through the
+hatchway. Roused by the noise of the gun, he had hurried up and reached
+the deck just as the sailors arrived. In fierce, stern words he shouted
+to his men, and the Malays gathered new courage from his words. There
+were about fifty of these, and not more than thirty English sailors; but
+the former had carelessly dropped their arms about, and most of their
+pieces were unloaded; the latter, therefore, had it all their own way.
+
+The first thing that they did was to pour a volley into the crowd of
+Malays, as they stood trying to face their new enemy. The next moment
+the sailors rushed upon them, some with cutlasses, some with pistols,
+and some with clubbed muskets.
+
+The Malays resisted desperately. Some fought with their creeses, others
+snatched up muskets and used them vigorously, others, unarmed, flung
+themselves upon their assailants, biting and tearing like wild beasts.
+
+In the midst of the scene stood the chief, wielding a clubbed musket. He
+was a man of short stature, broad chest, and great muscular power. Three
+or four of the sailors had already been knocked down beneath his blows.
+
+"Down with him," yelled the Captain. "It's Zangorri!"
+
+A venomous smile passed over the dark face of the Malay. Then he shouted
+to his men and in an instant they rushed to the quarter-deck and took
+up a position there. A few of them obtained some more muskets that lay
+about.
+
+The Captain shouted to his men, who were pursuing the Malays, to load
+once more. They did so, poured in a volley, and then rushed to the
+quarter-deck. Now a fiercer fight took place. The Captain with his
+pistol shot one man dead the next instant he was knocked down. The
+boatswain was grappled by two powerful men. The rest of the sailors were
+driving all before them.
+
+Meanwhile Brandon had been in the very centre of the fight. With his
+revolver in his left hand he held a cutlass in his right, and every blow
+that he gave told. He had sought all through the struggle to reach the
+spot where Zangorri stood, but had hitherto been unsuccessful. At the
+retreat which the Malays made he hastily loaded three of the chambers of
+his revolver which he had emptied into the hearts of three Malays, and
+sprang upon the quarter-deck first. The man who struck down the Captain
+fell dead from Brandon's pistol, just as he stooped to plunge his knife
+into the heart of the prostrate man. Another shot sent over one of the
+boatswain's assailants, and the other assailant was kicked up into the
+air and overboard by the boatswain himself.
+
+After this Brandon had no more trouble to get at Zangorri, for the Malay
+chief with a howl of fury called on his men, and sprang at him. Two
+quick flashes, two sharp reports, and down went two of them. Zangorri
+grasped Brandon's hand, and raised his knife; the next instant Brandon
+had shifted his pistol to his other hand; he fired. Zangorri's arm fell
+by his side, broken, and the knife rang on the ship's deck.
+
+Brandon bounded at his throat. He wound his arms around him, and with a
+tremendous jerk hurled Zangorri to the deck, and held him there.
+
+A cry of terror and dismay arose from the Malays as they saw their chief
+fall. The sailors shouted; there was no further fighting: some of the
+pirates were killed, others leaped overboard and tried to swim away. The
+sailors, in their fury, shot at these wretches as they swam. The cruelty
+of Zangorri had stimulated such a thirst for vengeance that none thought
+of giving quarter. Out of all the Malays the only one alive was Zangorri
+himself, who now lay gasping with a mighty hand on his throat.
+
+At last, as his struggles grew feebler, Brandon relaxed his grasp. Some
+of the sailors came with uplifted knives to put an end to Zangorri.
+
+"Back," cried Brandon, fiercely. "Don't touch him. He's mine!"
+
+"He must die."
+
+"That's for me to say," cried Brandon in a stern voice that forbade
+reply. In fact, the sailors seemed to feel that he had the best claim
+here, since he had not only captured Zangorri with his own hands, but
+had borne the chief share in the fight.
+
+"Englishman," said a voice. "I thank you."
+
+Brandon started.
+
+It was Zangorri who had spoken; and in very fair English too.
+
+"Do you speak English?" was all that he could say in his surprise.
+
+"I ought to. I've seen enough of them," growled the other.
+
+"You scoundrel!" cried Brandon, "you have nothing to thank me for. You
+must die a worse death."
+
+"Ah," sneered Zangorri. "Well. It's about time. But my death will not
+pay for the hundreds of English lives that I have taken. I thank you
+though, for you will give me time yet to tell the Englishmen how I hate
+them."
+
+And the expression of hate that gleamed from the eyes of the Malay was
+appalling.
+
+"Why do you hate them?" asked Brandon, whose curiosity was excited.
+
+"My brother's blood was shed by them, and a Malay never forgives. Yet I
+have never found the man I sought. If I had found him I would not have
+killed any more."
+
+"The man--what man?"
+
+"The one whom I have sought for fifteen years through all these seas,"
+said the other, hoarsely.
+
+"What is his name?"
+
+"I will not speak it. I had it carved on my creese which hangs around my
+neck."
+
+Brandon thrust his hand into the bosom of the Malay where he saw a cord
+which passed around his neck. He drew forth a creese, and holding it up
+saw this name cut upon the handle: "JOHN POTTS."
+
+The change that came over the severe, impassive face of Brandon was so
+extraordinary that even Zangorri in his pain and fury saw it. He uttered
+an exclamation. The brow of Brandon grew as black as night, his nostrils
+quivered, his eyes seemed to blaze with a terrific lustre, and a slight
+foam spread itself over his quivering lips. But he commanded himself by
+a violent effort.
+
+He looked all around. The sailors were busy with the Captain, who still
+lay senseless. No one observed him. He turned to Zangorri.
+
+"This shall be mine," said he, and he threw the cord around his own
+neck, and put the creese under his waistcoat. But the sharp eye of the
+Malay had been watching him, and as he raised his arm carelessly to
+put the weapon where he desired, he thoughtlessly loosed his hold.
+That instant Zangorri took advantage of it. By a tremendous effort he
+disengaged himself and bounded to his feet. The next instant he was at
+the taffrail. One hasty glance all around showed him all that he wished
+to see. Another moment and he was beneath the water.
+
+Brandon had been taken unawares, and the Malay was in the water before
+he could think. But he drew his revolver, in which there yet remained
+two shots, and, stepping to the taffrail, watched for Zangorri to
+reappear.
+
+During the fight a change had come over the scene. The fog had begun to
+be dissipated and a wider horizon appeared. As Brandon looked he saw two
+vessels upon the smooth surface of the sea. One was the _Falcon_. The
+other was a large Malay proa. On the decks of this last was a crowd of
+men, perhaps about fifty in number, who stood looking toward the ship
+where the fight had been. The sweeps were out, and they were preparing
+to move away. But the escape of Zangorri had aroused them, and they were
+evidently waiting to see the result. That result lay altogether at the
+disposal of the man with the revolver, who stood at the stern from which
+Zangorri had leaped.
+
+And now Zangorri's head appeared above the waves, while he took a long
+breath ere he plunged again. The revolver covered him. In a moment a
+bullet could have plunged into his brain.
+
+But Brandon did not fire. He could not. It was too cold-blooded. True,
+Zangorri was stained with countless crimes; but all his crimes at that
+moment were forgotten: he did not appear as Zangorri the merciless
+pirate, but simply as a wounded wretch, trying to escape from death.
+That death Brandon could not deal him.
+
+The sailors were still intent upon the Captain, whose state was
+critical, and Brandon alone watched the Malay. Soon he saw those on
+board the proa send down a boat and row quickly toward him. They reached
+him, dragged him on board, and then rowed back.
+
+Brandon turned away. As yet no one had been in the cabin. He hurried
+thither to see if perchance any one was there who might be saved.
+
+He entered the cabin. The first look which he gave disclosed a sight
+which was enough to chill the blood of the stoutest heart that ever
+beat.
+
+All around the cabin lay human bodies distorted by the agonies of
+death, twisted and twined in different attitudes, and still lying in the
+position in which death had found them.
+
+One, whose appearance showed him to be the captain, lay grasping the
+hair of a Malay, with his sword through his enemy's heart, while a knife
+still remained buried in his own. Another lay with his head cut open;
+another with his face torn by the explosion of a gun. There were four
+whites here and about ten Malays, all dead. But the fourth white was a
+woman, who lay dead in front of a door that led to an inner cabin, and
+which was now closed. The woman appeared to be about fifty years of age,
+her venerable gray hair was stained with blood, and her hand clutched
+the arm of a Malay who lay dead by her side.
+
+While Brandon stood looking at this sight he became aware of a movement
+in a corner of the cabin where there were five or six bodies heaped
+together. He hurried over to the place, and, pulling away the bodies of
+several Malays, found at length a Hindu of large stature, in whom life
+was by no means extinct, for he was pushing with hands and feet and
+making faint efforts to rise. He had been wounded in many places, and
+was now quite unconscious.
+
+Brandon dragged away all the bodies, laid him in as easy a posture as
+possible, and then rushed up to the deck for some water. Returning he
+dashed it over the Hindu, and bound up one or two wounds which seemed
+most dangerous.
+
+His care soon brought the Hindu to consciousness.
+
+The man opened his eyes, looked upon Brandon first with astonishment,
+then with speechless gratitude, and clasping his hand moaned faintly, in
+broken English.
+
+"Bless de Lor! Sahib!"
+
+Brandon hurried up on deck and calling some of the sailors had the
+Hindu conveyed there. All crowded around him to ask him questions, and
+gradually found out about the attack of the pirates. The ship had been
+becalmed the day before, and the Malay proa was in sight, evidently with
+evil intentions. They had kept a good watch, and when the fog came had
+some hope of escape. But the Malay boats had sought them through the
+fog, and had found them. They had resisted well, but were overpowered
+by numbers. The Hindu had been cook of the ship, and had fought till the
+last by the side of his captain.
+
+Without waiting to hear the Hindu's story Brandon went back to the
+cabin. The door that opened into the inner cabin was shut. He tried
+it. It was locked. He looked into the keyhole. It was locked from the
+inside.
+
+[Illustration: "SHE FLUNG HERSELF ON HER KNEES IN A TRANSPORT OF
+GRATITUDE."] "Is any one there?" he asked.
+
+A cry of surprise was the sole answer.
+
+"You are safe. We are friends. Open!" cried Brandon.
+
+Then came the sound of light footsteps, the key was turned, the door
+slided back, and there appeared before the astonished eyes of Brandon a
+young girl, who, the moment that she saw him, flung herself on her knees
+in a transport of gratitude and raised her face to Heaven, while her
+lips uttered inaudible words of thanksgiving.
+
+She was quite a young girl, with a delicate, slender frame, and features
+of extreme loveliness. Her complexion was singularly colorless. Her eyes
+were large, dark, and luminous. Her hair fell in rich masses over her
+shoulders. In one hand she held a knife, to which she clung with a
+death-like tenacity.
+
+"Poor child!" murmured Brandon, in accents of tenderest commiseration.
+"It is but little that you could do with that knife."
+
+She looked up at him as she knelt, then looked at the keen glittering
+steel, and, with a solemnity of accent which showed how deeply she was
+in earnest, murmured, half to herself,
+
+"It could at least have saved me!"
+
+Brandon smiled upon her with such a smile as a father might give at
+seeing the spirit or prowess of some idolized son.
+
+"There is no need," he said, with a voice of deep feeling, "there is
+no need of that now. You are saved. You are avenged. Come with me." The
+girl rose. "But wait," said Brandon, and he looked at her earnestly and
+most pityingly. "There are things here which you should not see. Will
+you shut your eyes and let me lead you?"
+
+"I can bear it," said the girl. "I will not shut my eyes."
+
+"You must," said Brandon, firmly, but still pityingly, for he thought of
+that venerable woman who lay in blood outside the door. The girl
+looked at him and seemed at first as though about to refuse. There was
+something in his face so full of compassion, and entreaty, and calm
+control, that she consented. She closed her eyes and held out her hand.
+Brandon took it and led her through the place of horror and up to the
+deck.
+
+Her appearance was greeted with a cry of joy from all the sailors. The
+girl looked around. She saw the Malays lying dead upon the deck. She saw
+the ship that had rescued, and the proa that had terrified her. But she
+saw no familiar face.
+
+She turned to Brandon with a face of horror, and with white lips asked:
+
+"Where are they all?"
+
+"Gone," said Brandon.
+
+"What! All?" gasped the girl.
+
+"All--except yourself and the cook."
+
+She shuddered from head to foot; at last, coming closer to Brandon, she
+whispered: "And my nurse--?"
+
+Brandon said nothing, but, with a face full of meaning, pointed upward.
+The girl understood him. She reeled, and would have fallen had not
+Brandon supported her. Then she covered her face with her hands, and,
+staggering away to a seat, sank down and wept bitterly.
+
+All were silent. Even the rough sailors respected that grief. Rough! Who
+does not know that sailors are often the most tender-hearted of men, and
+always the most impulsive, and most quick to sympathy?
+
+So now they said nothing, but stood in groups sorrowing in her sorrow.
+The Captain, meanwhile, had revived, and was already on his feet looking
+around upon the scene. The Hindu also had gained strength with every
+throb of his heart and every breath of the air.
+
+But suddenly a cry arose from one of the men who stood nearest the
+hatchway.
+
+"The ship is sinking!"
+
+Every one started. Yes, the ship was sinking. No one had noticed it; but
+the water was already within a few feet of the top. No doubt Zangorri
+had been scuttling her when he rushed out of the hold at the noise of
+the attack.
+
+There was nothing left but to hasten away. There was time to save
+nothing. The bodies of the dead had to be left with the ship for their
+tomb. In a short time they had all hurried into the boat and were
+pulling away. But not too soon. For scarcely had they pulled away half
+a dozen boat-lengths from the ship than the water, which had been rising
+higher and higher, more rapidly every moment, rushed madly with a final
+onset to secure its prey; and with a groan like that of some living
+thing the ship went down.
+
+A yell came from over the water. It rose from the Malay proa, which was
+moving away as fast as the long sweeps could carry her. But the dead
+were not revenged only. They were remembered. Not long after reaching
+the _Falcon_ the sailors were summoned to the side which looked toward
+the spot where the ship had sunk, and the solemn voice of Brandon read
+the burial-service of the Church.
+
+And as he read that service he understood the fate which he had escaped
+when the ship passed Coffin Island without noticing his signal.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+BEATRICE.
+
+It was natural that a young girl who had gone through so fearful an
+ordeal should for some time feel its effects. Her situation excited the
+warmest sympathy of all on board the ship; and her appearance was such
+as might inspire a chivalrous respect in the hearts of those rough but
+kindly and sensitive sailors who had taken part in her rescue.
+
+Her whole appearance marked her as one of no common order. There was
+about her an air of aristocratic grace which inspired involuntary
+respect; an elegance of manner and complete self-possession which marked
+perfect breeding. Added to this, her face had something which is greater
+even than beauty--or at least something without which beauty itself is
+feeble--namely, character and expression. Her soul spoke out in every
+lineament of her noble features, and threw around her the charm of
+spiritual exaltation.
+
+To such a charm as this Brandon did not seem indifferent. His usual
+self-abstraction seemed to desert him for a time. The part that he had
+taken in her rescue of itself formed a tie between them; but there was
+another bond in the fact that he alone of all on board could associate
+with her on equal terms, as a high-bred gentleman with a high-bred lady.
+
+The Hindu had at once found occupation, for Brandon, who had seen the
+stuff that was in him, offered to take him for his servant. He said that
+his name was Asgeelo, but he was commonly called Cato, and preferred
+that name to any other. He regarded Brandon as his saviour, with all the
+superstition which Hindus can feel, and looked up to this saviour as a
+superior being. The offer of employment was eagerly accepted, and Cato
+at once entered upon the few duties which his situation could require on
+ship-board.
+
+Meanwhile the young lady remained unknown. At first she spent the
+greater part of her time in her room, and only came out at meal-times,
+when the sadness of her face prevented any thing except the most distant
+and respectful courtesy. No one knew her name, and no one asked it. Cato
+was ignorant of it. She and the old nurse had only been known to him as
+the young missis and the old missis.
+
+Brandon, roused from his indifference, did all in his power to mitigate
+the gloom of this fair young creature, whom fate had thrown in his way.
+He found that his attentions were not unacceptable. At length she came
+out more frequently, and they became companions on the quarter-deck.
+
+Brandon was touched by the exhibition which she had made of her
+gratitude to himself. She persisted in regarding him alone as the one
+to whom she owed her life, and apologized to him for her selfishness in
+giving way so greatly to her grief. After a time she ventured to tell
+him the story of the voyage which she had been making. She was on her
+way from China to England. Her father lived in England, but she had
+passed her life in Hong-Kong, having been brought up there by the
+old nurse, who had accompanied her on her voyage until that fearful
+calamity.
+
+She told him at different times that her father was a merchant who
+had business all over the world, and that he had of late taken up his
+station in his own home and sent for her.
+
+Of her father she did not say much, and did not seem to know much.
+She had never seen him. She had been in Hong-Kong ever since she could
+remember. She believed, however, that she was born in England, but did
+not know for certain. Her nurse had not known her till she had gone to
+China.
+
+It was certainly a curious life, but quite natural, when a busy merchant
+devotes all his thoughts to business, and but little attention to his
+family. She had no mother, but thought she must have died in India. Yet
+she was not sure. Of all this, however, she expected to hear when she
+reached home and met her father.
+
+By the time that she had been a month on board Brandon knew much of
+the events of her simple life. He saw the strange mixture of fear and
+longing with which she looked forward to a meeting with her father. He
+learned that she had a brother, also, whom she had never seen, for
+her father kept his son with himself. He could not help looking with
+inexpressible pity on one so lovely, yet so neglected.
+
+Otherwise, as far as mere money was concerned, she had never suffered.
+Her accomplishments were numerous. She was passionately fond of music,
+and was familiar with all the classic compositions. Her voice was finely
+trained, for she had enjoyed the advantage of the instructions of an
+Italian maestro, who had been banished, and had gone out to Hong-Kong as
+band-master in the Twentieth Regiment. She could speak French fluently,
+and had read almost every thing.
+
+Now after finding out all this Brandon had not found out her name.
+Embarrassments arose sometimes, which she could not help noticing, from
+this very cause, and yet she said nothing about it. Brandon did not like
+to ask her abruptly, since he saw that she did not respond to his hints.
+So he conjectured and wondered. He thought that her name must be of the
+lordliest kind, and that she for some reason wished to keep it a secret:
+perhaps she was noble, and did not like to tell that name which had been
+stained by the occupations of trade. All this Brandon thought.
+
+Yet as he thought this, he was not insensible to the music of her
+soft, low voice, the liquid tenderness of her eye, and the charm of
+her manner. She seemed at once to confide herself to him--to own the
+superiority of his nature and seek shelter in it. Circumstances threw
+them exclusively into one another's way, and they found each other so
+congenial that they took advantage of circumstances to the utmost.
+
+There were others as well as Brandon who found it awkward not to have
+any name by which to address her, and chief of these was the good
+Captain. After calling her Ma'am and Miss indifferently for about a
+month he at last determined to ask her directly; so, one day at the
+dinner-table, he said:
+
+"I most humbly beg your pardon, ma'am; but I do not know your name, and
+have never had a chance to find it out. If it's no offense, perhaps you
+would be so good as to tell it?"
+
+The young lady thus addressed flushed crimson, then looked at Brandon,
+who was gazing fixedly on his plate, and with visible embarrassment
+said, very softly, "Beatrice."
+
+"B. A. Treachy," said the Captain. "Ah! I hope, Miss Treachy, you will
+pardon me; but I really found it so everlasting confusing."
+
+A faint smile crossed the lips of Brandon. But Beatrice did not smile.
+She looked a little frightened, and then said:
+
+"Oh, that is only my Christian name!"
+
+"Christian name!" said the Captain. "How can that be a Christian name?"
+
+"My surname is--" She hesitated, and then, with an effort, pronounced
+the word "Potts."
+
+"'Potts!'" said the Captain, quickly, and with evident surprise.
+"Oh--well, I hope you will excuse me."
+
+But the face of Beatrice turned to an ashen hue as she marked the effect
+which the mention of that name had produced on Brandon. He had been
+looking at his plate like one involved in thought. As he heard the name
+his head fell forward, and he caught at the table to steady himself. He
+then rose abruptly with a cloud upon his brow, his lips firmly pressed
+together, and his whole face seemingly transformed, and hurried from the
+cabin.
+
+She did not see him again for a week. He pleaded illness, shut himself
+in his state-room, and was seen by no one but Cato.
+
+Beatrice could not help associating this change in Brandon with the
+knowledge of her name. That name was hateful to herself. A fastidious
+taste had prevented her from volunteering to tell it; and as no one
+asked her directly it had not been known. And now, since she had told
+it, this was the result.
+
+For Brandon's conduct she could imagine only one cause. He had felt
+shocked at such a plebeian name.
+
+The fact that she herself hated her name, and saw keenly how
+ridiculously it sounded after such a name as Beatrice, only made her
+feel the more indignant with Brandon. "His own name," she thought,
+bitterly, "is plebeian--not so bad as mine, it is true, yet still it is
+plebeian. Why should he feel so shocked at mine?" Of course, she knew
+him only as "_Mr. Wheeler_." "Perhaps he has imagined that I had
+some grand name, and, learning my true one, has lost his illusion. He
+formerly esteemed me. He now despises me."
+
+Beatrice was cut to the heart; but she was too proud to show any feeling
+whatever. She frequented the quarter-deck as before; though now she had
+no companion except, at turns, the good-natured Captain and the mate.
+The longer Brandon avoided her the more indignant she felt. Her outraged
+pride made sadness impossible.
+
+Brandon remained in his state-room for about two weeks altogether. When
+at length he made his appearance on the quarter-deck he found Beatrice
+there, who greeted him with a distant bow.
+
+There was a sadness in his face as he approached and took a seat near
+her which at once disarmed her, drove away all indignation, and aroused
+pity.
+
+"You have been sick," she said, kindly, and with some emotion.
+
+"Yes," said Brandon, in a low voice, "but now that I am able to go about
+again my first act is to apologize to you for my rudeness in quitting
+the table so abruptly as to make it seem like a personal insult to you.
+Now I hope you will believe me when I say that an insult to you from me
+is impossible. Something like a spasm passed over my nervous system, and
+I had to hurry to my room."
+
+"I confess," said Beatrice, frankly, "that I thought your sudden
+departure had something to do with the conversation about me. I am very
+sorry indeed that I did you such a wrong; I might have known you better.
+Will you forgive me?"
+
+Brandon smiled, faintly. "You are the one who must forgive."
+
+"But I hate my name so," burst out Beatrice.
+
+Brandon said nothing.
+
+"Don't you? Now confess."
+
+"How can I--" he began.
+
+"You do, you do!" she cried, vehemently; "but I don't care--for I hate
+it."
+
+Brandon looked at her with a sad, weary smile, and said nothing. "You
+are sick," she said; "I am thoughtless. I see that my name, in some way
+or other, recalls painful thoughts. How wretched it is for me to give
+pain to others!"
+
+Brandon looked at her appealingly, and said, "You give pain? Believe me!
+believe me! there is nothing but happiness where you are."
+
+At this Beatrice looked confused and changed the conversation. There
+seemed after this to be a mutual understanding between the two to avoid
+the subject of her name, and although it was a constant mortification
+to Beatrice, yet she believed that on his part there was no contempt for
+the name, but something very different, something associated with better
+memories.
+
+They now resumed their old walks and conversations. Every day bound them
+more closely to one another, and each took it for granted that the other
+would be the constant companion of every hour in the day.
+
+Both had lived unusual lives. Beatrice had much to say about her
+Hong-Kong life, the Chinese, the British officers, and the festivities
+of garrison life. Brandon had lived for years in Australia, and was
+familiar with all the round of events which may be met with in that
+country. He had been born in England, and had lived there, as has
+already been mentioned, till he was almost a man, so that he had much
+to say about that mother-land concerning which Beatrice felt such
+curiosity. Thus they settled down again naturally and inevitably into
+constant association with each other.
+
+Whatever may have been the thoughts of Brandon during the fortnight
+of his seclusion, or whatever may have been the conclusion to which he
+came, he carefully refrained from the most remote hint at the home or
+the prospects of Beatrice. He found her on the seas, and he was
+content to take her as she was. Her name was a common one. She might
+be connected with his enemy, or she might not. For his part, he did not
+wish to know.
+
+Beatrice also showed equal care in avoiding the subject. The effect
+which had been produced by the mention of her name was still remembered,
+and, whatever the cause may have been, both this and her own strong
+dislike to it prevented her from ever making any allusion either to her
+father or to any one of her family. She had no scruples, however,
+about talking of her Hong-Kong life, in which one person seemed to have
+figured most prominently--a man who had lived there for years, and given
+her instruction in music. He was an Italian, of whom she knew nothing
+whatever but his name, with the exception of the fact that he had been
+unfortunate in Europe, and had come out to Hong-Kong as bandmaster of
+the Twentieth Regiment. His name was Paolo Langhetti.
+
+"Do you like music?" asked Brandon, abruptly.
+
+"Above all things." said Beatrice, with an intensity of emphasis which
+spoke of deep feeling.
+
+"Do you play?"
+
+"Somewhat."
+
+"Do you sing?"
+
+"A little. I was considered a good singer in Hong-Kong; but that is
+nothing. I sang in the Cathedral. Langhetti was kind enough to praise
+me; but then he was so fond of me that whatever I did was right."
+
+Brandon was silent for a little while. "Langhetti was fond of you?" he
+repeated, interrogatively, and in a voice of singular sweetness.
+
+"Very," returned Beatrice, musingly. "He always called me
+'Bice'--sometimes 'Bicetta,' 'Bicinola,' 'Bicina;' it was his pretty
+Italian way. But oh, if you could hear him play! He could make the
+violin speak like a human voice. He used to think in music. He seemed to
+me to be hardly human sometimes."
+
+"And he loved to hear you sing?" said Brandon, in the same voice.
+
+"He used to praise me," said Beatrice, meekly. "His praise used to
+gratify, but it did not deceive me. I am not conceited, Mr. Wheeler."
+
+"Would you sing for me?" asked Brandon, in accents almost of entreaty,
+looking at her with an imploring expression.
+
+Beatrice's head fell. "Not now--not yet--not here," she murmured, with
+a motion of her hand. "Wait till we pass beyond this ocean. It seems
+haunted."
+
+Brandon understood her tone and gesture.
+
+But the weeks passed, and the months, and they went over the seas,
+touching at Mauritius, and afterward at Cape Town, till finally they
+entered the Atlantic Ocean, and sailed North. During all this time their
+association was close and continuous. In her presence Brandon softened;
+the sternness of his features relaxed, and the great purpose of his life
+grew gradually fainter.
+
+One evening, after they had entered the Atlantic Ocean, they were
+standing by the stern of the ship looking at the waters, when Brandon
+repeated his request.
+
+"Would you be willing to sing now?" he asked, gently, and in the same
+tone of entreaty which he had used before.
+
+Beatrice looked at him for a moment without speaking. Then she raised
+her face and looked up at the sky, with a deep abstraction in her
+eyes, as though in thought. Her face, usually colorless, now, in the
+moonlight, looked like marble; her dark hair hung in peculiar folds over
+her brow--an arrangement which was antique in its style, and gave
+her the look of a statue of one of the Muses. Her straight, Grecian
+features, large eyes, thin lips, and well-rounded chin--all had the same
+classic air, and Brandon, as he looked at her, wondered if she knew how
+fair she was. She stood for a moment in silence, and then began. It was
+a marvelous and a memorable epoch in Brandon's life. The scene around
+added its inspiration to the voice of the singer. The ocean spread afar
+away before them till the verge of the horizon seemed to blend sea and
+sky together. Overhead the dim sky hung, dotted with innumerable stars,
+prominent among which, not far above the horizon, gleamed that glorious
+constellation, the Southern Cross. Beatrice, who hesitated for a moment
+as if to decide upon her song, at last caught her idea from this
+scene around her, and began one of the most magnificent of Italian
+compositions:
+
+  "I cieli immensi narrano
+  Del grand' Iddio la gloria."
+
+[Illustration: "SHE GAVE HERSELF ENTIRELY UP TO THE JOY OF SONG."]
+
+Her first notes poured forth with a sweetness and fullness that arrested
+the attention of all on board the ship. It was the first time she had
+sung, as she afterward said, since Langhetti had left Hong-Kong, and
+she gave herself entirely up to the joy of song. Her voice, long silent,
+instead of having been injured by the sorrow through which she had
+passed, was pure, full, marvelous, and thrilling. A glow like some
+divine inspiration passed over the marble beauty of her classic
+features; her eyes themselves seemed to speak of all that glory of which
+she sang, as the sacred fire of genius flashed from them.
+
+At those wonderful notes, so generous and so penetrating with their
+sublime meaning, all on board the ship looked and listened with
+amazement. The hands of the steersman held the wheel listlessly.
+Brandon's own soul was filled with the fullest effects. He stood
+watching her figure, with its inspired lineaments, and thought of the
+fabled prodigies of music spoken of in ancient story. He thought of
+Orpheus hushing all animated nature to calm by the magic of his song.
+At last all thoughts of his own left him, and nothing remained but that
+which the song of Beatrice swept over his spirit.
+
+But Beatrice saw nothing and heard nothing except the scene before
+her, with its grand inspiration and her own utterance of its praise.
+Brandon's own soul was more and more overcome; the divine voice thrilled
+over his heart; he shuddered and uttered a low sigh of rapture.
+
+"My God!" he exclaimed as she ended; "I never before heard any thing
+like this. I never dreamed of such a thing. Is there on earth another
+such a voice as yours? Will I ever again hear any thing like it? Your
+song is like a voice from those heavens of which you sing. It is a new
+revelation."
+
+He poured forth these words with passionate impetuosity. Beatrice
+smiled.
+
+"Langhetti used to praise me," she simply rejoined.
+
+"You terrify me," said he.
+
+"Why?" asked Beatrice, in wonder.
+
+"Because your song works upon me like a spell, and all my soul sinks
+away, and all my will is weakened to nothingness."
+
+Beatrice looked at him with a mournful smile. "Then you have the true
+passion for music," she said, "if this be so. For my part it is the joy
+of my life, and I hope to give up all my life to it."
+
+"Do you expect to see Langhetti when you reach England?" asked Brandon,
+abruptly.
+
+"I hope so," said she, musingly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+THE IMPROVISATORE.
+
+The character of Beatrice unfolded more and more every day, and every
+new development excited the wonder of Brandon.
+
+She said once that music was to her like the breath of life, and indeed
+it seemed to be; for now, since Brandon had witnessed her powers,
+he noticed how all her thoughts took a coloring from this. What most
+surprised him was her profound acquirements in the more difficult
+branches of the art. It was not merely the case of a great natural gift
+of voice. Her whole soul seemed imbued with those subtle influences
+which music can most of all bestow. Her whole life seemed to have been
+passed in one long intercourse with the greatest works of the greatest
+masters. All their works were perfectly well known to her. A marvelous
+memory enabled her to have their choicest productions at command;
+and Brandon, who in the early part of his life had received a careful
+musical education, knew enough about it to estimate rightly the full
+extent of the genius of his companion, and to be astonished thereat.
+
+Her mind was also full of stories about the lives, acts, and words of
+the great masters. For her they formed the only world with which she
+cared to be acquainted, and the only heroes whom she had power to
+admire. All this flowed from one profound central feeling--namely, a
+deep and all-absorbing love of this most divine art. To her it was
+more than art. It was a new faculty to him who possessed it. It was the
+highest power of utterance--such utterance as belongs to the angels;
+such utterance as, when possessed by man, raises him almost to an
+equality with them.
+
+Brandon found out every day some new power in her genius. Now her voice
+was unloosed from the bonds which she had placed upon it. She sang, she
+said, because it was better than talking. Words were weak--song was
+all expression. Nor was it enough for her to take the compositions of
+others. Those were infinitely better, she said, than any thing which
+she could produce; but each one must have his own native expression;
+and there were times when she had to sing from herself. To Brandon
+this seemed the most amazing of her powers. In Italy the power of
+improvisation is not uncommon, and Englishmen generally imagine that
+this is on account of some peculiar quality of the Italian language.
+This is not the case. One can improvise in any language; and Brandon
+found that Beatrice could do this with the English.
+
+"It is not wonderful," said she, in answer to his expression of
+astonishment, "it is not even difficult. There is an art in doing this,
+but, when you once know it, you find no trouble. It is rhythmic prose in
+a series of lines. Each line must contain a thought. Langhetti found no
+difficulty in making rhyming lines, but rhymes are not necessary. This
+rhythmic prose is as poetic as any thing can be. All the hymns of the
+Greek Church are written on this principle. So are the Te Deum and the
+Gloria. So were all the ancient Jewish psalms. The Jews improvised. I
+suppose Deborah's song, and perhaps Miriam's, are of this order."
+
+"And you think the art can be learned by every one?"
+
+"No, not by every one. One must have a quick and vivid imagination,
+and natural fluency--but these are all. Genius makes all the difference
+between what is good and what is bad. Sometimes you have a song of
+Miriam that lives while the world lasts, sometimes a poor little song
+like one of mine."
+
+"Sing to me about music," said Brandon, suddenly.
+
+Beatrice immediately began an improvisation. But the music to which she
+sang was lofty and impressive, and the marvelous sweetness of her voice
+produced an indescribable effect. And again, as always when she sang,
+the fashion of her face was changed, and she became transfigured before
+his eyes. It was the same rhythmic prose of which she had been speaking,
+sung according to the mode in which the Gloria is chanted, and divided
+into bars of equal time.
+
+Brandon, as always, yielded to the spell of her song. To him it was an
+incantation. Her own strains varied to express the changing sentiment,
+and at last, as the song ended, it seemed to die away in melodious
+melancholy, like the dying strain of the fabled swan.
+
+"Sing on!" he exclaimed, fervently; "I would wish to stand and hear your
+voice forever."
+
+A smile of ineffable sweetness came over her face. She looked at him,
+and said nothing. Brandon bowed his head, and stood in silence.
+
+Thus ended many of their interviews. Slowly and steadily this young girl
+gained over him an ascendency which he felt hourly, and which was so
+strong that he did not even struggle against it. Her marvelous genius,
+so subtle, so delicate, yet so inventive and quick, amazed him. If he
+spoke of this, she attributed every thing to Langhetti. "Could you but
+see him," she would say, "I should seem like nothing!"
+
+"Has he such a voice?"
+
+"Oh! he has no voice at all. It is his soul," she would reply. "He
+speaks through the violin. But he taught me all that I know. He said
+my voice was God's gift. He had a strange theory that the language of
+heaven and of the angels was music, and that he who loved it best on
+earth made his life and his thoughts most heavenly."
+
+"You must have been fond of such a man."
+
+"Very," said Beatrice, with the utmost simplicity. "Oh, I loved him so
+dearly!"
+
+But in this confession, so artlessly made, Brandon saw only a love that
+was filial or sisterly. "He was the first one," said Beatrice, "who
+showed me the true meaning of life. He exalted his art above all other
+arts, and always maintained that it was the purest and best thing which
+the world possessed. This consoled him for exile, poverty, and sorrow of
+many kinds."
+
+"Was he married?"
+
+Beatrice looked at Brandon with a singular smile. "Married! Langhetti
+married! Pardon me; but the idea of Langhetti in domestic life is so
+ridiculous."
+
+"Why? The greatest musicians have married."
+
+Beatrice looked up to the sky with a strange, serene smile. "Langhetti
+has no passion out of art," she said. "As an artist he is all fire, and
+vehemence, and enthusiasm. He is aware of all human passions, but only
+as an artist. He has only one love, and that is music. This is his idol.
+He seems to me himself like a song. But all the raptures which poets and
+novelists apply to lovers are felt by him in his music. He wants nothing
+while he has this. He thinks the musician's life the highest life. He
+says those to whom the revelations of God were committed were musicians.
+As David and Isaiah received inspiration to the strains of the harp,
+so, he says, have Bach and Mozart, Handel and Haydn, Beethoven and
+Mendelssohn. And where, indeed," she continued, in a musing tone, half
+soliloquizing, "where, indeed, can man rise so near heaven as when he
+listens to the inspired strains of these lofty souls?"
+
+"Langhetti," said Brandon, in a low voice, "does not understand love, or
+he would not put music in its place."
+
+"Yes," said Beatrice. "We spoke once about that. He has his own ideas,
+which he expressed to me."
+
+"What were they?"
+
+"I will have to say them as he said them," said she. "For on this theme
+he had to express himself in music."
+
+Brandon waited in rapt expectation. Beatrice began to sing:
+
+  "Fairest of all most fair,
+  Young Love, how comest thou
+    Unto the soul?
+  Still as the evening breeze
+  Over the starry wave--
+    The moonlit wave--
+
+  "The heart lies motionless;
+  So still, so sensitive;
+    Love fans the breeze.
+  Lo! at his lightest touch,
+  The myriad ripples rise,
+    And murmur on.
+
+  "And ripples rise to waves,
+  And waves to rolling seas,
+    Till, far and wide,
+  The endless billows roll,
+  In undulations long,
+    For evermore!"
+
+Her voice died away into a scarce audible tone, which sank into
+Brandon's heart, lingering and dying about the last word, with touching
+and unutterable melancholy. It was like the lament of one who loved. It
+was like the cry of some yearning heart.
+
+In a moment Beatrice looked at Brandon with a swift, bright smile. She
+had sung these words as an artist. For a moment Brandon had thought that
+she was expressing her own feelings. But the bright smile on her face
+contrasted so strongly with the melancholy of her voice that he saw this
+was not so.
+
+"Thus," she said, "Langhetti sang about it: and I have never forgotten
+his words."
+
+The thought came to Brandon, is it not truer than she thinks, that "she
+loves him very dearly?" as she said.
+
+"You were born to be an artist," he said, at last.
+
+Beatrice sighed lightly. "That's what I never can be, I am afraid,"
+said she. "Yet I hope I may be able to gratify my love for it. Art,"
+she continued, musingly, "is open to women as well as to men; and of all
+arts none are so much so as music. The interpretation of great masters
+is a blessing to the world. Langhetti used to say that these are the
+only ones of modern times that have received heavenly inspiration.
+They correspond to the Jewish prophets. He used to declare that the
+interpretation of each was of equal importance. To man is given the
+interpretation of the one, but to woman is given the interpretation of
+much of the other. Why is not my voice, if it is such as he said, and
+especially the feeling within me, a Divine call to go forth upon this
+mission of interpreting the inspired utterances of the great masters of
+modern days?
+
+"You," she continued, "are a man, and you have a purpose." Brandon
+started, but she did not notice it. "You have a purpose in life," she
+repeated. "Your intercourse with me will hereafter be but an episode in
+the life that is before you. I am a girl, but I too may wish to have
+a purpose in life--suited to my powers; and if I am not able to work
+toward it I shall not be satisfied."
+
+"How do you know that I have a purpose, as you call it?" asked Brandon,
+after a pause.
+
+"By the expression of your face, and your whole manner when you are
+alone and subside into yourself," she replied, simply.
+
+"And of what kind?" he continued.
+
+"That I do not seek to know," she replied; "but I know that it must be
+deep and all-absorbing. It seems to me to be too stern for Love; you are
+not the man to devote yourself to Avarice: possibly it may be Ambition,
+yet somehow I do not think so."
+
+"What do you think it is, then?" asked Brandon, in a voice which had
+died away, almost to a whisper.
+
+She looked at him earnestly; she looked at him pityingly. She looked
+at him also with that sympathy which might be evinced by one's Guardian
+Angel, if that Being might by any chance become visible. She leaned
+toward him, and spoke low in a voice only audible to him:
+
+"Something stronger than Love, and Avarice, and Ambition," said she.
+"There can be only one thing."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Vengeance!" she said, in a voice of inexpressible mournfulness.
+
+Brandon looked at her wonderingly, not knowing how this young girl could
+have divined his thoughts. He long remained silent.
+
+Beatrice folded her hands together, and looked pensively at the sea.
+
+"You are a marvelous being," said Brandon, at length. "Can you tell me
+any more?"
+
+"I might," said she, hesitatingly; "but I am afraid you will think me
+impertinent."
+
+"No," said Brandon. "Tell me, for perhaps you are mistaken."
+
+"You will not think me impertinent, then? You will only think that I
+said so because you asked me?"
+
+"I entreat you to believe that it is impossible for me to think
+otherwise of you than you yourself would wish."
+
+"Shall I say it, then?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Her voice again sank to a whisper. "Your name is not Wheeler."
+
+Brandon looked at her earnestly. "How did you learn that?"
+
+"By nothing more than observation."
+
+"What is my name?"
+
+"Ah, that is beyond my power to know," said she with a smile. "I have
+only discovered what you are not. Now you will not think me a spy, will
+you?" she continued, in a pleading voice.
+
+Brandon smiled on her mournfully as she stood looking at him with her
+dark eyes upraised.
+
+"A spy!" he repeated. "To me it is the sweetest thought conceivable
+that you could take the trouble to notice me sufficiently." He checked
+himself suddenly, for Beatrice looked away, and her hands which had been
+folded together clutched each other nervously. "It is always flattering
+for a gentleman to be the object of a lady's notice," he concluded, in a
+light tone.
+
+Beatrice smiled. "But where," he continued, "could you have gained
+that power of divination which you possess; you who have always lived a
+secluded life in so remote a place?"
+
+"You did not think that one like me could come out of Hong-Kong, did
+you?" said she, laughingly.
+
+"Well, I have seen much of the world; but I have not so much of this
+power as you have."
+
+"You might have more if--if--" she hesitated. "Well," she continued,
+"they say, you know, that men act by reason, women by intuition."
+
+"Have you any more intuitions?" asked Brandon, earnestly.
+
+"Yes," said she, mournfully.
+
+"Tell me some."
+
+"They will not do to tell," said Beatrice, in the same mournful tone.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"They are painful."
+
+"Tell them at any rate."
+
+"No."
+
+"Hint at them."
+
+Beatrice looked at him earnestly. Their eyes met. In hers there was
+a glance of anxious inquiry, as though her soul were putting forth a
+question by that look which was stronger than words. In his there was
+a glance of anxious expectancy, as though his soul were speaking unto
+hers, saying: "Tell all; let me know if you suspect that of which I am
+afraid to think."
+
+"We have met with ships at sea," she resumed, in low, deliberate tones.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Sometimes we have caught up with them, we have exchanged signals,
+we have sailed in sight of one another for hours or for days, holding
+intercourse all the while. At last a new morning has come, and we looked
+out over the sea, and the other ship has gone from sight. We have left
+it forever. Perhaps we have drifted away, perhaps a storm has parted us,
+the end is the same--separation for evermore."
+
+She spoke mournfully, looking away, her voice insensibly took up a
+cadence, and the words seemed to fall of themselves into rhythmic pause.
+
+"I understand you," said Brandon, with a more profound mournfulness in
+his voice. "You speak like a Sibyl. I pray Heaven that your words may
+not be a prophecy."
+
+Beatrice still looked at him, and in her eyes he read pity beyond words;
+and sorrow also as deep as that pity.
+
+"Do you read my thoughts as I read yours?" asked Brandon, abruptly.
+
+"Yes," she answered, mournfully.
+
+He turned his face away.
+
+"Did Langhetti teach you this also?" he asked, at last.
+
+"He taught me many things," was the answer.
+
+Day succeeded to day, and week to week. Still the ship went on holding
+steadily to her course northward, and every day drawing nearer and
+nearer her goal. Storms came--some moderate, some severe; but the ship
+escaped them all with no casualties, and with but little delay.
+
+At last they passed the equator, and seemed to have entered the last
+stage of their journey.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+THE STRUGGLE FOR LIFE.
+
+
+At length the ship came within the latitude of the Guinea coast.
+
+For some days there had been alternate winds and calms, and the weather
+was so fitful and so fickle that no one could tell in one hour what
+would happen in the next. All this was at last terminated by a dead,
+dense, oppressive calm like those of the Indian Ocean, in which exertion
+was almost impossible and breathing difficult. The sky, however, instead
+of being clear and bright, as in former calms, was now overspread with
+menacing clouds; the sea looked black, and spread out before them on
+every side like an illimitable surface of polished ebony. There was
+something appalling in the depth and intensity of this calm with such
+accompaniments. All felt this influence. Although there was every
+temptation to inaction and sleep yet no one yielded to it. The men
+looked suspiciously and expectantly at every quarter of the heavens. The
+Captain said nothing, but cautiously had all his preparations made for
+a storm. Every half hour he anxiously consulted the barometer, and then
+cast uneasy glances at the sea and sky.
+
+But the calm which had set in at midnight, and had become confirmed
+at dawn, extended itself through the long day. The ship drifted idly,
+keeping no course, her yards creaking lazily as she slowly rose and fell
+at the movement of the ocean-undulations. Hour after hour passed, and
+the day ended, and night came once more.
+
+The Captain did not turn in that night. In anxious expectation he waited
+and watched on deck, while all around there was the very blackness
+of darkness. Brandon began to see from the Captain's manner that he
+expected something far more violent than any thing which the ship
+had yet encountered, but, thinking that his presence would be of no
+consequence, he retired at the usual hour.
+
+The deep, dense calm continued until nearly midnight. The watchers on
+deck still waited in the same anxious expectation, thinking that the
+night would bring on the change which they expected.
+
+Almost half an hour before midnight a faint light was seen in the thick
+mass of clouds overhead--it was not lightning, but a whitish streak, as
+though produced by some movement in the clouds. All looked up in mute
+expectation.
+
+Suddenly a faint puff of wind came from the west, blowing gently for a
+few moments, then stopping, and then coming on in a stronger blast.
+Afar off, at what seemed like an immeasurable distance, a low, dull roar
+arose, a heavy moaning sound, like the menace of the mighty Atlantic,
+which was now advancing in wrath upon them.
+
+In the midst of this the whole scene burst forth into dazzling light at
+the flash of a vast mass of lightning, which seemed to blaze from every
+part of the heavens on every side simultaneously. It threw forth all
+things--ship, sea, and sky--into the dazzled eyes of the watchers. They
+saw the ebon sky, the black and lustrous sea, the motionless ship. They
+saw also, far off to the west, a long line of white which appeared to
+extend along the whole horizon.
+
+But the scene darted out of sight instantly, and instantly there fell
+the volleying discharge of a tremendous peal of thunder, at whose
+reverberations the air and sea and ship all vibrated.
+
+Now the sky lightened again, and suddenly, as the ship lay there, a
+vast ball of fire issued from the black clouds immediately overhead,
+descending like the lightning straight downward, till all at once
+it struck the main truck. With a roar louder than that of the recent
+thunder it exploded; fast sheets of fire flashed out into the air, and a
+stream of light passed down the entire mast, shattering it as a tree is
+shattered when the lightning strikes it. The whole ship was shaken to
+its centre. The deck all around the mast was shattered to splinters, and
+along its extent and around its base a burst of vivid flame started into
+light.
+
+Wild confusion followed. At once all the sailors were ordered up, and
+began to extinguish the fires, and to cut away the shattered mast. The
+blows of the axes resounded through the ship. The rigging was severed;
+the mast, already shattered, needed but a few blows to loosen its last
+fibres.
+
+But suddenly, and furiously, and irresistibly it seemed as though the
+whole tempest which they had so long expected was at last let loose upon
+them. There was a low moan, and, while they were yet trying to get rid
+of the mast, a tremendous squall struck the ship. It yielded and turned
+far over to that awful blow. The men started back from their work. The
+next instant a flash of lightning came, and toward the west, close
+over them, rose a long, white wall of foam. It was the van-guard of the
+storm, seen shortly before from afar, which was now upon them, ready to
+fall on their devoted heads.
+
+Not a word was spoken. No order came from the Captain. The men awaited
+some word. There came none. Then the waters, which thus rose up like a
+heap before them, struck the ship with all the accumulated fury of that
+resistless onset, and hurled their utmost weight upon her as she lay
+before them.
+
+The ship, already reeling far over at the stroke of the storm, now, at
+this new onset, yielded utterly, and rolled far over on her beam-ends.
+The awful billows dashed over and over her, sweeping her in their
+fury from end to end. The men clung helplessly to whatever rigging
+lay nearest, seeking only in that first moment of dread to prevent
+themselves from being washed away, and waiting for some order from the
+Captain, and wondering while they waited.
+
+At the first peal of thunder Brandon had started up. He had lain down in
+his clothes, in order to be prepared for any emergency. He called Cato.
+The Hindu was at hand. "Cato, keep close to me whatever happens, for you
+will be needed." "Yes, Sahib." He then hurried to Beatrice's room and
+knocked. It was opened at once. She came forth with her pale, serene
+face, and looked at him.
+
+"I did not lie down," said she. "I knew that there would be something
+frightful. But I am not afraid. At any rate," she added, "I know I will
+not be deserted."
+
+Brandon said nothing, but held out to her an India-rubber
+life-preserver. "What is this for?" "For you. I wish you to put it on.
+It may not be needed, but it is best to have it on." "And what will you
+do?" "I--oh! I can swim, you know. But you don't know how to fasten it.
+Will you allow me to do so?" She raised her arms. He passed the belt
+around her waist, encircling her almost in his arms while doing so,
+and his hand, which had boldly grasped the head of the "dweller in the
+wreck," now trembled as he fastened the belt around that delicate and
+slender waist.
+
+But scarcely had this been completed when the squall struck the ship,
+and the waves followed till the vessel was thrown far over on her side;
+and Brandon seizing Beatrice in one arm, clung with the other to the
+edge of the skylight, and thus kept himself upright.
+
+He rested now for a moment. "I must go on deck," he said. "I do not wish
+you to leave me," was her answer. Nothing more was said. Brandon at once
+lifted her with one arm as though she were a child and clambered along,
+grasping such fixtures as afforded any thing to which he could cling;
+and thus, with hands and feet, groped his way to the door of the cabin,
+which was on the windward side. There were two doors, and between them
+was a seat.
+
+"This," said he, "is the safest place for you. Can you hold on for a
+short time? If I take you on deck you will be exposed to the waves."
+
+"I will do whatever you say," she replied; and clinging to the arm of
+the almost perpendicular seat, she was able to sustain herself there
+amidst the tossing and swaying of the ship.
+
+Brandon then clambered out on deck. The ship lay far over. The waves
+came leaping upon her in successive surges. All around the sea was
+glistening with phosphorescent lustre, and when at times the lightning
+flashed forth it lighted up the scene, and showed the ocean stirred
+up to fiercest commotion. It seemed as though cataracts of water were
+rushing over the doomed ship, which now lay helpless, and at the mercy
+of the billows. The force of the wind was tremendous, exceeding any
+thing that Brandon had ever witnessed before.
+
+What most surprised him now was the inaction of the ship's company. Why
+was not something being done? Where was the Captain?
+
+He called out his name; there was no response. He called after the mate;
+there was no answer. Instantly he conjectured that in the first fierce
+onset of the storm both Captain and mate had been swept away. How many
+more of that gallant company of brave fellows had perished he knew not.
+The hour was a perilous and a critical one. He himself determined to
+take the lead.
+
+Through the midst of the storm, with its tumult and its fury, there
+came a voice as full and clear as a trumpet-peal, which roused all the
+sailors, and inspired them once more with hope. "Cut away the masts!"
+The men obeyed, without caring who gave the order. It was the command
+which each man had been expecting, and which he knew was the thing that
+should be done. At once they sprang to their work. The main-mast had
+already been cut loose. Some went to the fore-mast, others to the
+mizzen. The vast waves rolled on; the sailors guarded as best they could
+against the rush of each wave, and then sprang in the intervals to their
+work. It was perilous in the highest degree, but each man felt that
+his own life and the lives of all the others depended upon the
+accomplishment of this work, and this nerved the arm of each to the
+task.
+
+At last it was done. The last strand of rigging had been cut away. The
+ship, disencumbered, slowly righted, and at last rode upright.
+
+But her situation was still dangerous. She lay in the trough of the sea,
+and the gigantic waves, as they rolled up, still beat upon her with all
+their concentrated energies. Helpless, and now altogether at the mercy
+of the waves, the only hope left those on board lay in the strength of
+the ship herself.
+
+None of the officers were left. As the ship righted Brandon thought that
+some of them might make their appearance, but none came. The Captain,
+the mate, and the second mate, all had gone. Perhaps all of them, as
+they stood on the quarter-deck, had been swept away simultaneously.
+Nothing could now be done but to wait. Morning at last came to the
+anxious watchers. It brought no hope. Far and wide the sea raged
+with all its waves. The wind blew with undiminished and irresistible
+violence. The ship, still in the trough of the sea, heaved and plunged
+in the overwhelming waves, which howled madly around and leaped over her
+like wolves eager for their prey. The wind was too fierce to permit even
+an attempt to rig a jury-mast.
+
+The ship was also deeply laden, and this contributed to her peril. Had
+her cargo been smaller she would have been more buoyant; but her full
+cargo, added to her dangerous position as she lay at the mercy of the
+waves, made all hope of escape dark indeed.
+
+Another night succeeded. It was a night of equal horror. The men stood
+watching anxiously for some sign of abatement in the storm, but none
+came. Sea and sky frowned over them darkly, and all the powers which
+they controlled were let loose unrestrained.
+
+Another day and night came and went. Had not the _Falcon_ been a ship of
+unusual strength she would have yielded before this to the storm. As it
+was, she began to show signs of giving way to the tremendous hammering
+to which she had been exposed, and her heavy Australian cargo bore her
+down. On the morning of the third day Brandon saw that she was deeper in
+the water, and suspected a leak. He ordered the pumps to be sounded. It
+was as he feared. There were four feet of water in the hold.
+
+The men went to work at the pumps and worked by relays. Amidst the rush
+of the waves over the ship it was difficult to work advantageously, but
+they toiled on. Still, in spite of their efforts, the leak seemed to
+have increased, for the water did not lessen. With their utmost exertion
+they could do little more than hold their own.
+
+It was plain that this sort of thing could not last. Already three
+nights and three days of incessant toil and anxiety, in which no one had
+slept, had produced their natural effects. The men had become faint and
+weary. But the brave fellows never murmured; they did every thing which
+Brandon ordered, and worked uncomplainingly.
+
+Thus, through the third day, they labored on, and into the fourth night.
+That night the storm seemed to have reached its climax, if, indeed, any
+climax could be found to a storm which at the very outset had burst upon
+them with such appalling suddenness and fury, and had sustained itself
+all along with such unremitting energy. But on that night it was worse
+for those on board, since the ship which had resisted so long began to
+exhibit signs of yielding, her planks and timbers so severely assailed
+began to give way, and through the gaping seams the ocean waters
+permeated, till the ocean, like some beleaguering army, failing in
+direct assault, began to succeed by opening secret mines to the very
+heart of the besieged ship.
+
+On the morning of the fourth day all hands were exhausted from
+night-long work, and there were ten feet of water in the hold.
+
+It now became evident that the ship was doomed. Brandon at once began to
+take measures for the safety of the men.
+
+On that memorable day of the calm previous to the outbreak of the storm,
+the Captain had told Brandon that they were about five hundred miles to
+the westward of the coast of Senegambia. He could not form any idea
+of the distance which the ship had drifted during the progress of the
+storm, but justly considered that whatever progress she had made had
+been toward the land. Their prospects in that direction, if they could
+only reach it, were not hopeless. Sierra Leone and Liberia were there;
+and if they struck the coast any where about they might make their way
+to either of those places.
+
+But the question was how to get there. There was only one way, and that
+was by taking to the boats. This was a desperate undertaking, but it was
+the only way of escape now left.
+
+There were three boats on board--viz., the long-boat, the cutter, and
+the gig. These were the only hope now left them. By venturing in these
+there would be a chance of escape.
+
+On the morning of the fourth day, when it was found that the water was
+increasing, Brandon called the men together and stated this to them. He
+then told them that it would be necessary to divide themselves so that a
+sufficient number should go in each boat. He offered to give up to them
+the two larger boats, and take the gig for himself, his servant, and the
+young lady.
+
+To this the men assented with great readiness. Some of them urged him
+to go in the larger boat, and even offered to exchange with him; but
+Brandon declined.
+
+They then prepared for their desperate venture. All the provisions and
+water that could be needed were put on board of each boat. Firearms were
+not forgotten. Arrangements were made for a long and arduous voyage. The
+men still worked at the pumps; and though the water gained on them, yet
+time was gained for completing these important preparations.
+
+About mid-day all was ready. Fifteen feet of water were in the hold. The
+ship could not last much longer. There was no time to lose.
+
+But how could the boats be put out? How could they live in such a sea?
+This was the question to be decided.
+
+The ship lay as before in the trough of the sea. On the windward side
+the waves came rushing up, beating upon and sweeping over her. On the
+leeward the water was calmer, but the waves tossed and raged angrily
+even there.
+
+Only twenty were left out of the ship's company. The rest were all
+missing. Of these, fourteen were to go in the long-boat, and six in the
+cutter. Brandon, Beatrice, and Cato were to take the gig.
+
+The sailors put the gig out first. The light boat floated buoyantly on
+the waters. Cato leaped into her, and she was fastened by a long line
+to the ship. The nimble Hindu, trained for a lifetime to encounter
+the giant surges of the Malabar coast, managed the little boat with
+marvelous dexterity--avoiding the sweep of the waves which dashed
+around, and keeping sufficiently under the lee to escape the rougher
+waves, yet not so much so as to be hurled against the vessel.
+
+Then the sailors put out the long-boat. This was a difficult
+undertaking, but it was successfully accomplished, and the men were all
+on board at last. Instantly they prepared to row away.
+
+At that moment a wilder wave came pouring over the ship. It was as
+though the ocean, enraged at the escape of these men, had made a final
+effort to grasp its prey. Before the boat with its living freight had
+got rid of the vessel, the sweep of this gigantic wave, which had passed
+completely over the ship, struck it where it lay. Brandon turned away
+his eyes involuntarily.
+
+There was a wild shriek--the next moment the black outline of the
+long-boat, bottom upward, was seen amidst the foaming billows.
+
+The men who waited to launch the cutter were at first paralyzed by this
+tragedy, but there was no time to lose. Death threatened them behind
+as well as before; behind, death was certain; before, there was still a
+chance. They launched the cutter in desperation. The six men succeeded
+in getting into her, and in rowing out at some distance. As wave after
+wave rose and fell she disappeared from view, and then reappeared, till
+at last Brandon thought that she at least was safe.
+
+Then he raised his hand and made a peculiar signal to Cato.
+
+The Hindu understood it. Brandon had given him his directions before;
+now was the time. The roll of the waves [illegible] up was for the
+present less dangerous.
+
+Beatrice, who during the whole storm had been calm, and had quietly
+done whatever Brandon told her, was now waiting at the cabin-door in
+obedience to his directions.
+
+As soon as Brandon had made the signal he hurried to the cabin-door and
+assisted Beatrice to the quarter-deck. Cato rowed his boat close up to
+the ship, and was waiting for a chance to come within reach. The waves
+were still more moderate. It was the opportunity for which Cato had been
+watching so long. He held his oars poised, and, as a sudden swell of a
+wave rose near the ship, he forced his boat so that it came close beside
+it, rising high on the crest of the swell.
+
+As the wave rose, Brandon also had watched his opportunity as well
+as the action of Cato. It was the moment too for which he had been
+watching. In an instant, and without a word, he caught Beatrice in his
+arms, raised her high in the air, poised himself for a moment on the
+edge of the quarter-deck, and sprang forward into the boat. His foot
+rested firmly on the seat where it struck. He set Beatrice down, and
+with a knife severed the line which connected the boat with the ship.
+
+Then seizing an oar he began to row with all his strength. Cato had the
+bow oar. The next wave came, and its sweep, communicating itself to the
+water, rolled on, dashing against the ship and moving under it, rising
+up high, lifting the boat with it, and bearing it along. But the boat
+was now under command, and the two rowers held it so that while it was
+able to avoid the dash of the water, it could yet gain from it all the
+momentum that could be given.
+
+Brandon handled the oar with a dexterity equal to that of the Hindu, and
+under such management, which was at once strong and skillful, the boat
+skimmed lightly over the crests of the rolling waves, and passed out
+into the sea beyond. There the great surges came sweeping on, rising
+high behind the boat, each wave seeming about to crush the little bark
+in its resistless grasp, but notwithstanding the threat the boat seemed
+always able by some good luck to avoid the impending danger, for as each
+wave came forward the boat would rise up till it was on a level with
+the crest, and the flood of waters would sweep on underneath, bearing it
+onward.
+
+After nearly half an hour's anxious and careful rowing Brandon looked
+all about to find the cutter. It was nowhere to be seen. Again and again
+he looked for it, seeking in all directions. But he discovered no sign
+of it on the raging waters, and at last he could no longer doubt that
+the cutter also, like long-boat, had perished in the sea.
+
+All day long they rowed before the wind and wave--not strongly, but
+lightly, so as to husband their strength. Night came, when Brandon and
+Cato took turns at the oars--not over-exerting themselves, but seeking
+chiefly to keep the boat's head in proper direction, and to evade the
+rush of the waves. This last was their constant danger, and it required
+the utmost skill and the most incessant watchfulness to do so.
+
+[Illustration: "WITHOUT A WORD HE CAUGHT BEATRICE IN HIS ARMS." ETC.]
+
+All this time Beatrice sat in the stern, with a heavy oil-cloth coat
+around her, which Brandon directed her to put on, saying nothing, but
+seeing every thing with her watchful, vigilant eyes.
+
+"Are you afraid?" said Brandon once, just after they had evaded an
+enormous wave.
+
+"No!" was the reply, in a calm, sweet voice; "I trust in you."
+
+"I hope your trust may not be vain," replied Brandon.
+
+"You have saved my life so often," said Beatrice, "that my trust in you
+has now become a habit."
+
+She smiled faintly as she spoke. There was something in her tone which
+sank deep into his soul.
+
+The night passed and morning came.
+
+For the last half of the night the wind had been much less boisterous,
+and toward morning the gale had very greatly subsided. Brandon's
+foresight had secured a mast and sail on board the gig, and now, as soon
+as it could be erected with safety, he put it up, and the little boat
+dashed bravely over the waters. The waves had lessened greatly as the
+day wore on; they no longer rose in such giant masses, but showed merely
+the more common proportions. Brandon and Cato now had an opportunity to
+get some rest from their exhaustive labors. Beatrice at last yielded
+to Brandon's earnest request, and, finding that the immediate peril had
+passed, and that his toil for the present was over, she obtained some
+sleep and rest for herself.
+
+For all that day, and all that night, and all the next day, the little
+boat sped over the waters, heading due east, so as to reach land
+wherever they might find it, in the hope that the land might not be very
+far away from the civilized settlements of the coast. The provisions and
+water which had been put in the boat formed an ample supply, which would
+last for a long time. Brandon shared with Cato in the management of the
+boat, not allowing the big man to have more of the labor than himself.
+
+During these days Brandon and Beatrice were of course thrown into a
+closer intimacy. At such a time the nature of man or woman becomes most
+apparent, and here Beatrice showed a noble calm and a simple trust which
+to Brandon was most touching. He knew that she must feel most keenly
+the fatigue and the privations of such a life; but her unvarying
+cheerfulness was the same as it had been on shipboard. He, too,
+exhibited that same constancy and resolution which he had always
+evinced, and by his consideration for Cato showed his natural kindness
+of heart.
+
+"How sorry I am that I can do nothing!" Beatrice would say. "You are
+killing yourself, and I have to sit idle and gain my safety at your
+expense."
+
+"The fact that you are yet safe," Brandon would reply, "is enough for
+me. As long as I see you sitting there I can work."
+
+"But can I do nothing? It is hard for me to sit idle while you wear out
+your life."
+
+"You can sing," said Brandon.
+
+"What?"
+
+"Langhetti's song," he said, and turned his face away.
+
+She sang at once. Her tones rose in marvelous modulations; the words
+were not much, but the music with which she clothed them seemed again to
+utter forth that longing which Brandon had heard before.
+
+Now, as they passed over the seas, Beatrice sang, and Brandon did not
+wish that this life should end. Through the days, as they sailed on,
+her voice arose expressive of every changeful feeling, now speaking of
+grief, now swelling in sweet strains of hope.
+
+Day thus succeeded to day until the fourth night came, when the wind
+died out and a calm spread over the waters.
+
+Brandon, who waked at about two in the morning so as to let Cato sleep,
+saw that the wind had ceased, and that another one of those treacherous
+calms had come. He at once put out the oars, and, directing Cato to
+sleep till he waked him, began to pull.
+
+Beatrice remonstrated. "Do not," said she, in an imploring tone. "You
+have already done too much. Why should you kill yourself?"
+
+"The wind has stopped," answered Brandon. "The calm is treacherous, and
+no time ought to be lost."
+
+"But wait till you have rested."
+
+"I have been resting for days."
+
+"Why do you not rest during the night and work in the daytime?"
+
+"Because the daytime is so frightfully hot that work will be difficult.
+Night is the time to work now."
+
+Brandon kept at his oars, and Beatrice saw that remonstrances were
+useless. He rowed steadily until the break of day: then, as day was
+dawning, he rested for a while, and looked earnestly toward the east.
+
+A low, dark cloud lay along the eastern horizon, well-defined against
+the sky, which now was growing brighter and brighter every hour. Was
+it cloud, or was it something else? This was the question that rose in
+Brandon's mind.
+
+The sky grew brighter, the scene far and wide opened up before the
+gathering light until at last the sun began to appear. Then there was no
+longer any doubt. It was LAND.
+
+This he told to Beatrice; and the Hindu, waking at the same time, looked
+earnestly toward that shore which they had been striving so long and
+so earnestly to reach. It was land, but what land? No doubt it was some
+part of the coast of Senegambia, but what one? Along that extensive
+coast there were many places where landing might be certain death, or
+something worse than death. Savage tribes might dwell there--either
+those which were demoralized by dealings with slave-traders, or those
+which were flourishing in native barbarism. Yet only one course was now
+advisable; namely, to go on till they reached the shore.
+
+It appeared to be about fifty miles away. So Brandon judged, and so it
+proved. The land which they had seen was the summit of lofty hills which
+were visible from a great distance. They rowed on all that day. The
+water was calm and glassy. The sun poured down its most fervid beams,
+the air was sultry and oppressive. Beatrice entreated Brandon now to
+desist from rowing and wait till the cool of the night, but he was
+afraid that a storm might come up suddenly.
+
+"No," he said, "our only hope now is to get near the land, so that if a
+storm does come up we may have some place of shelter within reach."
+
+After a day of exhaustive labor the land was at last reached.
+
+High hills, covered with palm-trees, rose before them. There was no
+harbor within sight, no river outlet, but a long, uninterrupted extent
+of high, wooded shores. Here in the evening they rested on their oars,
+and looked earnestly at the shore.
+
+Brandon conjectured that they were somewhat to the north of Sierra
+Leone, and did not think that they could be to the south. At any rate,
+a southeasterly course was the surest one for them, for they would reach
+either Sierra Leone or Liberia. The distance which they might have to go
+was, however, totally uncertain to him.
+
+So they turned the boat's head southeast, and moved in a line parallel
+with the general line of the shore. That shore varied in its features
+as they passed along: sometimes depressed into low, wide savannas: at
+others, rising into a rolling country, with hills of moderate height,
+behind which appeared the summits of lofty mountains, empurpled by
+distance.
+
+It was evening when they first saw the land, and then they went on
+without pausing. It was arranged that they should row alternately, as
+moderately as possible, so as to husband their strength. Cato rowed for
+the first part of that night, then Brandon rowed till morning. On the
+following day Cato took the oars again.
+
+It was now just a week since the wreck, and for the last two days there
+had not been a breath of wind in the air, nor the faintest ripple on
+that burning water. To use even the slightest exertion in such torrid
+heat was almost impossible. Even to sit still under that blighting sun,
+with the reflected glare from the dead, dark sea around, was painful.
+
+Beatrice redoubled her entreaties to Brandon that he should rest. She
+wished to have her mantle spread over their heads as a kind of canopy,
+or fix the sail in some way and float idly through the hottest part of
+the day. But Brandon insisted that he felt no evil effects as yet; and
+promised when he did feel such to do as she said.
+
+At last they discovered that their water was almost out, and it was
+necessary to get a fresh supply. It was the afternoon of the seventh
+day. Brandon had been rowing ever since midday. Beatrice had wound her
+mantle about his head in the style of an Eastern turban so as to protect
+him from the sun's rays. Looking out for some place along the shore
+where they might obtain water, they saw an opening in the line of coast
+where two hills arose to a height of several hundred feet. Toward this
+Brandon rowed.
+
+Stimulated by the prospect of setting foot on shore Brandon rowed
+somewhat more vigorously than usual; and in about an hour the boat
+entered a beautiful little cove shut in between two hills, which formed
+the outlet of a river. Far up its winding course could be traced by the
+trees along its borders. The hills rose on each side with a steep slope,
+and were covered with palms. The front of the harbor was shut in from
+the sea by a beautiful little wooded island. Here Brandon rowed the boat
+into this cove; and its prow grated against the pebbles of the beach.
+
+Beatrice had uttered many exclamations of delight at the beauty of this
+scene. At length, surprised at Brandon's silence, she cried,
+
+"Why do you not say something? Surely this is a Paradise after the sea!"
+
+She looked up with an enthusiastic smile.
+
+He had risen to his feet. A strange, vacant expression was in his eyes.
+He made a step forward as if to land. His unsteady foot trembled. He
+reeled, and stretched out his arms like some one groping in the dark.
+
+Beatrice shrieked and sprang forward. Too late: for the next moment he
+fell headlong into the water.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+THE BADINAGE OF OLD FRIENDS.
+
+The town of Holby is on the coast of Pembroke. It has a small harbour,
+with a light-house, and the town itself contains a few thousand people,
+most of them belonging to the poorer class. The chief house in the town
+stands on a rising ground a little outside, looking toward the water.
+Its size and situation render it the most conspicuous object in the
+neighborhood.
+
+This house, from its appearance, must have been built more than a
+century before. It belonged to an old family which had become extinct,
+and now was occupied by a new owner, who had given it another name. This
+new owner was William Thornton, Esq., solicitor, who had an office in
+Holby, and who, though very wealthy, still attended to his business with
+undiminished application. The house had been originally purchased by the
+father of the present occupant, Henry Thornton, a well-known lawyer in
+these parts, who had settled here originally a poor young man, but had
+finally grown gray and rich in his adopted home. He had bought the place
+when it was exposed for sale, with the intention of founding a new seat
+for his own family, and had given it the name of Thornton Grange.
+
+Generations of care and tasteful culture had made Thornton Grange one
+of the most beautiful places in the county. All around were wide parks
+dotted with ponds and clumps of trees. An avenue of elms led up to the
+door. A well-kept lawn was in front, and behind was an extensive grove.
+Every thing spoke of wealth and elegance.
+
+On an afternoon in February a gentleman in clerical dress walked up the
+avenue, rang at the door, and entering he gave his name to the servant
+as the Rev. Courtenay Despard. He was the new Rector of Holby, and had
+only been there one week.
+
+He entered the drawing-room, sat down upon one of the many lounging
+chairs with which it was filled, and waited. He did not have to wait
+long. A rapid step was soon heard descending the stairs, and in a few
+minutes a lady entered. She came in with a bright smile of welcome on
+her face, and greeted him with much warmth.
+
+Mrs. Thornton was very striking in her appearance. A clear olive
+complexion and large, dark hazel eyes marked Southern blood. Her hair
+was black, wavy, and exceedingly luxuriant. Her mouth was small, her
+hands and feet delicately shaped, and her figure slender and elegant.
+Her whole air had that indefinable grace which is the sign of
+high-breeding; to this there was added exceeding loveliness, with great
+animation of face and elegance of manner. She was a perfect lady, yet
+not of the English stamp; for her looks and manner had not that cold
+and phlegmatic air which England fosters. She looked rather like some
+Italian beauty--like those which enchant us as they smile from the walls
+of the picture-galleries of Italy.
+
+"I am so glad you have come!" said she. "It is so stupid here, and I
+expected you an hour ago."
+
+"Oh, if I had only known that!" said Despard. "For, do you know, I have
+been dying of ennui."
+
+"I hope that I may be the means of dispelling it."
+
+"As surely so as the sun disperses the clouds."
+
+"You are never at a loss for a compliment."
+
+"Never when I am with you."
+
+These few words were spoken with a smile by each, and a slightly
+melodramatic gesture, as though each was conscious of a little
+extravagance.
+
+"You must be glad to get to your old home," she resumed. "You lived here
+fifteen, no, sixteen years, you know."
+
+"Eighteen."
+
+"So it was. I was sixteen when you left."
+
+"Never to see you again till I came back," said Despard, with some
+mournfulness, looking at the floor.
+
+"And since then all has changed."
+
+"But I have not," rejoined Despard, in the same tone.
+
+Mrs. Thornton said nothing for a moment.
+
+"By-the-way, I've been reading such a nice book," she resumed. "It has
+just come out, and is making a sensation. It would suit you, I know."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+She rose and lifted a book from the table, which she handed to him. He
+took it, and read the title out loud.
+
+"Christian's Cross."
+
+A strange expression passed over his face. He looked at her, holding the
+book out at arms'-length with feigned consternation.
+
+"And do you have the heart to recommend this book to me, Mrs. Thornton?"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Why, it's religious. Religious books are my terror. How could I
+possibly open a book like this?"
+
+She laughed.
+
+"You are mistaken," she said. "It is an ordinary novel, and for the
+sake of your peace of mind I assure you that there is not a particle of
+religion in it. But why should you look with such repugnance upon it?
+The expression of your face is simply horror."
+
+"Pietistic books have been the bane of my life. The emotional, the
+rhapsodical, the meditative style of book, in which one garrulously
+addresses one's soul from beginning to end, is simply torture to me.
+You see religion is a different thing. The rhapsody may do for
+the Tabernacle people, but thoughtful men and women need something
+different."
+
+"I am so delighted to hear such sentiments from a clergyman! They
+entirely accord with my own. Still I must own that your horror struck me
+as novel, to say the least of it."
+
+"Would you like me to try to proselytize you?"
+
+"You may try if you wish. I am open to conviction; but the Church of all
+the ages, the Apostolic, the Catholic, has a strong hold on me."
+
+"You need not fear that I will ever try to loosen it. I only wish that I
+may see your face in Trinity Church every Sunday."
+
+"That happiness shall be yours," answered Mrs. Thornton. "As there is
+no Catholic church here, I will give you the honor of my presence at
+Trinity."
+
+"If that is the case it will be a place of worship to me."
+
+He smiled away the extravagance of this last remark, and she only shook
+her head.
+
+"That is a compliment, but it is awfully profane."
+
+"Not profanity; say rather justifiable idolatry."
+
+"Really, I feel overcome; I do not know what to say. At any rate, I hope
+you will like the book; I know you will find it pleasant."
+
+"Any thing that comes from you could not be otherwise," said Despard.
+"At the same time it is not my habit to read novels singly."
+
+"Singly! Why how else can one read them?"
+
+"I always read several at a time."
+
+Mrs. Thornton laughed at the whimsical idea.
+
+"You see," said Despard, "one must keep up with the literature of the
+day. I used to read each book as it came out, but at last found satiety.
+The best novel palls. For my own comfort I had to invent a new plan to
+stimulate my interest. I will tell you about it. I take ten at a time,
+spread them on the table in front of me, and read each chapter in
+succession."
+
+"Isn't that a little confusing?"
+
+"Not at all," said Despard, gravely. "Practice enables one to keep all
+distinct."
+
+"But what is the good of it?"
+
+"This," replied Despard; "you see in each novel there are certain
+situations. Perhaps on an average there may be forty each. Interesting
+characters also may average ten each. Thrilling scenes twenty each.
+Overwhelming catastrophes fifteen each. Now by reading novels singly the
+effect of all this is weakened, for you only have the work of each in
+its divided, isolated state, but where you read according to my plan you
+have the aggregate of all these effects in one combined--that is to say,
+in ten books which I read at once I have two hundred thrilling scenes,
+one hundred and fifty overwhelming catastrophes, one hundred interesting
+characters, and four hundred situations of absorbing fascination. Do you
+not see what an advantage there is in my plan? By following this rule
+I have been able to stimulate a somewhat faded appetite, and to keep
+abreast of the literature of the day."
+
+"What an admirable plan! And do you read all books in that way? Why,
+one could write ten novels at a time on the same principle, and if so he
+ought to write very much better."
+
+"I think I will try it some day. At present I am busily engaged with a
+learned treatise on the Symbolical Nature of the Mosaic Economy, and--"
+
+"The--what?" cried Mrs. Thornton, breathlessly. "What was that?"
+
+"The Symbolical Nature of the Mosaic Economy," said Despard, placidly.
+
+"And is the title all your own?"
+
+"All my own."
+
+"Then pray don't write the book. The title is enough. Publish that, and
+see if it does not of itself by its own extraordinary merits bring you
+undying fame."
+
+"I've been thinking seriously of doing so," said Despard, "and I don't
+know but that I may follow your advice. It will save some trouble, and
+perhaps amount to just as much in the end."
+
+"And do you often have such brilliant fancies?"
+
+"No, frankly, not often. I consider that title the one great idea of my
+life."
+
+"But do not dwell too much upon that," said Mrs. Thornton, in a warning
+voice. "It might make you conceited."
+
+"Do you think so?" rejoined the other, with a shudder. "Do you really
+think so? I hope not. At any rate I hope you do not like conceited
+people?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Am I conceited?"
+
+"No. I like you," replied Mrs. Thornton, with a slight bow and a wave of
+the hand, which she accompanied with a smile.
+
+"And I like you," said Despard, in the same tone.
+
+"You could not do less."
+
+"This," said Despard, with an air of thoughtful seriousness, "is a
+solemn occasion. After such a tender confession from each of us what
+remains to be done? What is it that the novels lay down?"
+
+"I'm sure," returned Mrs. Thornton, with the same assumed solemnity, "it
+is not for me to say. You must make the proposition."
+
+"We cannot do any thing less than fly together."
+
+"I should think not"
+
+"But where?"
+
+"And not only where, but how? By rail, by steamboat, or by canal? A
+canal strikes me as the best mode of flight. It is secluded."
+
+"Free from observation," said Despard.
+
+"Quiet," rejoined Mrs. Thornton.
+
+"Poetic."
+
+"Remote."
+
+"Unfriended."
+
+"Solitary."
+
+"Slow."
+
+"And, best of all, hitherto untried."
+
+"Yes, its novelty is undeniable."
+
+"So much so," said Mrs. Thornton, "that it overwhelms one. It is a
+bright, original idea, and in these days of commonplace is it
+not creditable? The idea is mine, Sir, and I will match it with
+your--what?--your Symbolical Nature of the Mosaic Cosmogony."
+
+"Economy."
+
+"But Cosmogony is better. Allow me to suggest it by way of a change."
+
+"It must be so, since you say it; but I have a weakness for the word
+Economy. It is derived from the Greek--"
+
+"Greek!" exclaimed Mrs. Thornton, raising her hands. "You surely are not
+going to be so ungenerous as to quote Greek! Am I not a lady? Will you
+be so base as to take me at a disadvantage in that way?"
+
+"I am thoroughly ashamed of myself, and you may consider that a tacit
+apology is going on within my mind whenever I see you."
+
+"You are forgiven," said Mrs. Thornton.
+
+"I can not conceive how I could have so far forgotten myself. I do not
+usually speak Greek to ladies. I consider it my duty to make myself
+agreeable. And you have no idea how agreeable I can make myself, if I
+try."
+
+"I? I have no idea? Is it you who say that, and to me?" exclaimed Mrs.
+Thornton, in that slight melodramatic tone which she had employed thus
+far, somewhat exaggerated. "After what I told you--of my feelings?"
+
+"I see I shall have to devote all the rest of my life to making
+apologies."
+
+"No. Do not make apologies. Avoid your besetting sins. Otherwise, fond
+as I am of you"--and she spoke with exaggerated solemnity--"I must
+regard you as a failure."
+
+The conversation went on uninterruptedly in this style for some time. It
+appeared to suit each of them. Despard's face, naturally grave, assisted
+him toward maintaining the mock-serious tone which he chose to adopt;
+and Mrs. Thornton's peculiar style of face gave her the same advantage.
+It pleased each to express for the other an exaggerated sentiment of
+regard. They considered it banter and badinage. How far it was safe was
+another thing. But they had known one another years before, and were
+only resuming the manner of earlier times.
+
+Yet, after all, was it safe for the grave Rector of Holby to adopt
+the inflated style of a troubadour in addressing the Lady of Thornton
+Grange? Neither of them thought of it. They simply improved the
+shining hour after this fashion, until at length the conversation was
+interrupted by the opening of folding-doors, and the entrance of a
+servant who announced--dinner.
+
+On entering the dining-room Despard was greeted with respectful
+formality by the master of the house. He was a man of about forty,
+with the professional air of the lawyer about him, and an abstracted
+expression of face, such as usually belongs to one who is deeply
+engrossed in the cares of business. His tone, in spite of its
+friendliness, was naturally stiff, and was in marked contrast to the
+warmth of Mrs. Thornton's greeting.
+
+"How do you like your new quarters?" he asked, as they sat down.
+
+"Very well," said Despard. "It is more my home, you know, than any other
+place. I lived there so many years as school-boy with Mr. Carson that it
+seems natural to take up my station there as home."
+
+Mr. Thornton relapsed into his abstraction while Despard was speaking,
+who directed the remainder of his conversation to Mrs. Thornton.
+
+It was light, idle chat, in the same tone as that in which they had
+before indulged. Once or twice, at some unusually extravagant remark,
+Mr. Thornton looked up in perplexity, which was not lessened on seeing
+their perfect gravity.
+
+They had a long discussion as to the meaning of the phrase "the day
+after to-morrow." Despard asserted that it meant the same as eternal
+duration, and insisted that it must be so, since when to-morrow came the
+day after it was still coming, and when that came there was still
+the day after. He supported his theory with so much earnestness that
+Thornton, after listening for a while, took the trouble to go heavily
+and at length into the whole question, and conclude it triumphantly
+against Despard.
+
+Then the subject of politics came up, and a probable war with France was
+considered. Despard professed to take no interest in the subject, since,
+even if an invasion took place, clergymen could do nothing. They were
+exempt from military duty in common with gaugers. The mention of this
+brought on a long discussion as to the spelling of the word gauger.
+Despard asserted that nobody knew how it was spelled, and that, from the
+necessities of human nature, it was simply impossible to tell whether it
+was _gauger_ or _guager_. This brought out Thornton again, who mentioned
+several law papers in which the word had been correctly written by his
+clerks. Despard challenged him on this, and, because Thornton had
+to confess that he had not examined the word, dictionary in hand, he
+claimed a victory over him.
+
+Thornton, at this, looked away, with the smile of a man who is talking
+unintelligible things to a child.
+
+Then followed a long conversation between Despard and Mrs. Thornton
+about religion, art, music, and a miscellaneous assemblage of other
+things, which lasted for a long time. At length he rose to go. Mrs.
+Thornton went to a side-table and took up a book.
+
+"Here," said she, "is the little book you lent me; I ought to have sent
+it, but I thought you would come for it."
+
+"And so I will," said he, "some day."
+
+"Come for it to-morrow."
+
+"Will you be at home?"
+
+[Illustration: "MRS. THORNTON, WALKING TO THE WINDOW, LOOKED OUT."]
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then of course I'll come. And now I must tear myself away. Good-night!"
+
+On the following day, at about two o'clock, Despard called again. Mrs.
+Thornton had been writing, and the desk was strewn with papers.
+
+"I know I am disturbing you," said he, after the usual greetings. "I see
+that you are writing, so I will not stay but a moment. I have come, you
+know, after that little book."
+
+"Indeed, you are not disturbing me at all. I have been trying to
+continue a letter which I began to my brother a month ago. There is no
+hurry about it."
+
+"And how is Paolo?"
+
+"I have not heard for some time. I ought to hear soon. He went to
+America last summer, and I have not had a word from him since. My letter
+is of no importance, I assure you, and now, since you are here, you
+shall not go. Indeed, I only touched it a minute ago. I have been
+looking at some pictures till I am so begrimed and inundated with dust
+that I feel as though I had been resolved into my original element."
+
+And she held up her hands with a pretty gesture of horror.
+
+Despard looked at her for a moment as she stood in her bright beauty
+before him. A sudden expression of pain flashed over his face, succeeded
+by his usual smile.
+
+"Dust never before took so fair a form," he said, and sat down, looking
+on the floor.
+
+"For unfailing power of compliment, for an unending supply of neat and
+pretty speeches, commend me to the Rev. Courtenay Despard."
+
+"Yet, singularly enough, no one else ever dreamed that of me."
+
+"You were always so."
+
+"With you."
+
+"In the old days."
+
+"Now lost forever."
+
+Their voices sank low and expressive of a deep melancholy. A silence
+followed. Despard at last, with a sudden effort, began talking in his
+usual extravagant strain about badgers till at last Mrs. Thornton began
+to laugh, and the radiancy of their spirits was restored. "Strange,"
+said he, taking up a prayer-book with a peculiar binding, on which there
+was a curiously intertwisted figure in gilt. "That pattern has been in
+my thoughts and dreams for a week."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"Why, I saw it in your hands last Sunday, and my eyes were drawn to
+it till its whole figure seemed to stamp itself on my mind. See! I can
+trace it from memory." And, taking his cane, he traced the curiously
+involved figure on the carpet.
+
+"And were your thoughts fixed on nothing better than that?"
+
+"I was engaged in worship," was the reply, with marked emphasis.
+
+"I must take another book next time."
+
+"Do not. You will only force me to study another pattern."
+
+Mrs. Thornton laughed lightly, and Despard looked at her with a smile.
+
+"I'm afraid your thoughts wander," she said, lightly, "as mine do. There
+is no excuse for you. There is for me. For you know I'm like Naaman; I
+have to bow my head in the temple of Baal. After all," she continued,
+in a more serious voice, "I suppose I shall be able some day to worship
+before my own altar, for, do you know, I expect to end my days in a
+convent."
+
+"And why?"
+
+"For the purpose of perfect religious seclusion."
+
+Despard looked at her earnestly for a moment. Then his usual smile broke
+out.
+
+"Wherever you go let me know, and I'll take up my abode outside the
+walls and come and look at you every day through the grating."
+
+"And would that be a help to a religious life?"
+
+"Perhaps not; but I'll tell you what would be a help. Be a Sister of
+Charity. I'll be a Paulist. I'll devote myself to the sick. Then you and
+I can go together; and when you are tired I can assist you. I think that
+idea is much better than yours."
+
+"Oh, very much, indeed!" said Mrs. Thornton, with a strange, sad look.
+
+"I remember a boy and girl who once used to go hand in hand over yonder
+shore, and--" He stopped suddenly, and then hastily added, "and now it
+would be very sad, and therefore very absurd, in one of them to bring up
+old memories."
+
+Mrs. Thornton suddenly rose, and, walking to the window, looked out. "I
+wonder if it will rain to-day!" she said, in a sweet voice, full of a
+tremulous melancholy.
+
+"There are very dark clouds about," returned Despard, mournfully.
+
+"I hope there will not be a storm," she rejoined, with the same sadness.
+Her hands were held tightly together. "Some things will perish if a
+storm comes."
+
+"Let us pray that there may be calm and peace," said Despard.
+
+She turned and looked at him for a moment. Strange that these two should
+pass so quickly from gayety to gloom! Their eyes met, and each read in
+the face of the other sadness beyond words.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+TWO LETTERS.
+
+Despard did not go back to the Grange for some days. About a week had
+passed since the scenes narrated in the preceding chapter when one
+morning, having finished his breakfast, he went into his library and sat
+down at the table to write. A litter of papers lay all around. The walls
+were covered with shelves, filled with books. The table was piled high
+with ponderous tomes. Manuscripts were strewn around, and books were
+scattered on the floor. Yet, amidst all this disorder, some order was
+apparent, for many of these books lay open in certain places, and others
+were arranged so as to be within reach.
+
+Several sheets of paper, covered with writing, lay before him, headed,
+"The Byzantine Poets." The books were all in Greek. It was the library
+of a hard-working student.
+
+Very different was the Despard of the library from the Despard who had
+visited the Grange. A stern and thoughtful expression was read in his
+face, and his eyes had an abstraction which would have done credit to
+Mr. Thornton himself.
+
+Taking his seat at the table, he remained for a while leaning his head
+on his hand in deep thought. Then he took up a pen and drew a piece of
+paper before him to try it. He began to draw upon it the same figure
+which he had marked with his cane on Mrs. Thornton's carpet. He traced
+this figure over and over, until at last the whole sheet was covered.
+
+Suddenly he flung down the pen, and, taking up the paper, leaned back
+in his chair with a melancholy face. "What a poor, weak thing I am!"
+he muttered at last, and let the paper fall to the floor. He leaned
+his head on his hand, then resumed his pen and began to make some idle
+marks. At length he began to draw.
+
+Under the fine and delicate strokes of his pen, which were as neat
+and as exquisite as the most subtle touches of an engraving, a picture
+gradually rose to view. It was a sea-side scene. The place was
+Holby Beach. In the distance was the light-house; and on one side a
+promontory, which protected the harbor. Upon the shore, looking out
+toward the sea, was a beautiful girl, of about sixteen years of age,
+whose features, as they grew beneath his tender touches, were those of
+Mrs. Thornton. Then beside her there gradually rose another figure,
+a youth of about eighteen, with smooth face and clustering locks, who
+looked exactly like what the Rev. Courtenay Despard might have been some
+seven or eight years before. His left arm was around her waist, her
+arm was thrown up till it touched his shoulder, and his right hand held
+hers. Her head leaned against him, and both of them, with a subdued
+expression of perfect happiness, tinged with a certain pensive sadness,
+were looking out upon the setting sun.
+
+As soon as he finished he looked at the sketch, and then, with a sudden
+impulse, tore it into a thousand small fragments. He drew the written
+manuscript before him with a long and deep-drawn sigh, and began writing
+with great rapidity upon the subject of the Byzantine Poets. He had just
+written the following words:
+
+"The Anacreontic hymns of John Damascenus form a marked contrast to--"
+when the sentence was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Come in!" It
+was the servant with letters from the post-office. Despard put down his
+pen gravely, and the man laid two letters on the table. He waited
+till the servant had departed, then seizing one of them, a small one,
+addressed in a lady's hand, he pressed it vehemently to his lips and
+tore it open.
+
+It was as follows:
+
+[Illustration: "BOTH WERE LOOKING OUT UPON THE SETTING SUN."]
+
+"DEAR MR. DESPARD,--I suppose I may _never_ expect to see you again. Yet
+I must see you, for yesterday I received a very long letter from Paolo
+of so singular a character that you will have to explain it to me. I
+shall expect you this afternoon, and till then, I remain,
+
+"Yours sincerely,
+
+"TERESA THORNTON.
+
+"THORNTON GRANGE, Friday."
+
+Despard read this letter a score of times, and placed it reverently
+in an inner drawer of his desk. He then opened the other, and read as
+follows:
+
+"HALIFAX, NOVA SCOTIA, January 12, 1847.
+
+"MY DEAR COURTENAY,--I was very glad to hear of your appointment as
+Rector of Holby, your old home, and hope that by this time you are fully
+established in the old Rectory, where you spent so many years. I was
+there often enough in poor old Carson's days to know that it was a fine
+old place.
+
+"You will see by this that I am in Halifax, Nova Scotia. My regiment was
+ordered off here last November, and I am just beginning to feel settled.
+It is not so cold here as it was in Quebec. There is capital moose
+hunting up the country. I don't admire my accommodations much; but it is
+not a bad little town, considering all things. The people are pleasant,
+and there is some stir and gayety occasionally.
+
+"Not long before leaving Quebec, who do you think turned up? No less a
+person than Paolo Langhetti, who in the course of his wanderings came
+out there. He had known some extraordinary adventures on his voyage out;
+and these are the immediate cause of this letter.
+
+"He took passage early in June last in the ship _Tecumseh_, from
+Liverpool for Quebec. It was an emigrant ship, and crammed with
+passengers. You have heard all about the horrors of that middle passage,
+which occurred last year, when those infernal Liverpool merchants, for
+the sake of patting a few additional pounds in their pockets, sent so
+many thousands to destruction.
+
+"The _Tecumseh_ was one of these. It was crammed with emigrants. You
+know Langhetti's extraordinary pluck, and his queer way of devoting
+himself for others. Well, what did he do but this: as soon as the
+ship-fever broke out he left the cabin and took up his abode in the
+steerage with the sick emigrants. He is very quiet about this, and
+merely says that he helped to nurse the sick. I know what that means.
+
+"The mortality was terrific. Of all the ships that came to Quebec on
+that fatal summer the _Tecumseh_ showed the largest record of deaths. On
+reaching the quarantine station Langhetti at once insisted on continuing
+his attendance on the sick. Hands were scarce, and his offer was
+eagerly accepted. He staid down there ever so long till the worst of the
+sickness was over.
+
+"Among the passengers on the _Tecumseh_ were three who belonged to the
+superior class. Their names were Brandon. He took a deep interest in
+them. They suffered very much from sickness both during the voyage and
+at quarantine. The name at once attracted him, being one well known both
+to him and to us. At last they all died, or were supposed to have died,
+at the quarantine station. Langhetti, however, found that one of them
+was only in a 'trance state,' and his efforts for resuscitation were
+successful. This one was a young girl of not more than sixteen years of
+age. After her restoration he left the quarantine bringing her with him,
+and came up to the city. Here he lived for a month or so, until at last
+he heard of me and came to see me.
+
+"Of course I was delighted to see him, for I always thought him the
+noblest fellow that ever breathed, though most undoubtedly cranky if
+not crazy. I told him we were going to Halifax, and as he had no settled
+plan I made him come here with me.
+
+"The girl remained for a long time in a state of mental torpor, as
+though her brain had been affected by disease, but the journey here
+had a beneficial effect on her, and during her stay she has steadily
+improved. About a week ago Langhetti ventured to ask her all about
+herself.
+
+"What will you say when I tell you that she is the daughter of poor
+Ralph Brandon, of Brandon Hall, your father's friend, whose wretched
+fate has made us all so miserable. You know nothing of this, of course;
+but where was Thornton? Why did not he do something to prevent this
+horror, this unutterable calamity? Good God! what suffering there is in
+this world!
+
+"Now, Courtenay, I come to the point. This poor Edith Brandon, still
+half-dead from her grief, has been able to tell us that she has still a
+relative living. Her eldest brother Louis went to Australia many years
+ago. A few weeks before her father's death he wrote to his son telling
+him everything, and imploring him to come home. She thinks that her
+brother must be in England by this time.
+
+"I want you to hunt up Louis Brandon. Spare no trouble. In the name of
+God, and by the memory of your father, whose most intimate friend was
+this poor old Brandon, I entreat you to search after Louis Brandon till
+you find him, and let him know the fate of his friends. I think if
+she could see him the joy of meeting one relative would restore her to
+health.
+
+"My boy, I know I have said enough. Your own heart will impel you to do
+all that can be done for the sake of this poor young girl. You can find
+out the best ways of learning information. You had better go up at once
+to London and make arrangements for finding Brandon. Write me soon, and
+let me know.
+
+"Your affectionate uncle,
+
+"HENRY DESPARD."
+
+Despard read this letter over and over. Then he put it in his pocket,
+and walked up and down the room in deep thought. Then he took out Mrs.
+Thornton's note and studied it for a long time. So the hours passed
+away, until at length two o'clock came and he set out for Thornton
+Grange.
+
+On entering the drawing-room, Mrs. Thornton was there.
+
+"So you have come at last," said she, as they shook hands.
+
+"As if I would not come ten times a day if I could," was the answer, in
+an impetuous voice.
+
+"Still there is no reason why you should persistently avoid the Grange."
+
+"What would you say if I followed my own impulse, and came here every
+day?"
+
+"I would say, Good-morning, Sir. Still, now that you are here, you must
+stay."
+
+"I will stay, whether I must or not."
+
+"Have you recovered from the effect of my prayer-book yet?"
+
+"No, nor ever will I. You brought the same one last Sunday."
+
+"That was in order to weaken the effect. Familiarity breeds contempt,
+you know."
+
+"Then all I can say is, that contempt has very extraordinary
+manifestations. Among other strange things, it makes me cover my paper
+with that pattern when I ought to be writing on the Mosaic Economy."
+
+"Cosmogony, you mean."
+
+"Well, then, Cosmogony."
+
+"Cosmogony is such a delicious word! It has been the hope of my life to
+be able to introduce it in a conversation. There is only one other word
+that compares with it."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"I am afraid to pronounce it."
+
+"Try, at any rate."
+
+"Idiosyncrasy," said Mrs. Thornton. "For five or six years I have been
+on the look-out for an opportunity to use that word, and thus far I have
+been unsuccessful. I fear that if the opportunity did occur I would call
+it 'idiocracy.' In fact, I know I would."
+
+"And what would be the difference? Your motive would be right, and it is
+to motives that we must look, not acts."
+
+After some further badinage, Mrs. Thornton drew a letter from her
+pocket.
+
+"Here," said she, gravely, "is Paolo's letter. Read it, and tell me what
+you think of it."
+
+Despard took the letter and began to read, while Mrs. Thornton, sitting
+opposite to him, watched his face.
+
+The letter was in Italian, and was accompanied by a large and
+closely-written manuscript of many pages.
+
+"HALIFAX, NOVA SCOTIA, January 2, 1847.
+
+"MY SWEETEST LITTLE SISTER,--I send you my diary, as I promised you, my
+Teresella, and you will see all my adventures. Take care of yourself,
+be happy, and let us hope that we may see one another soon. I am well,
+through the mercy of the good God, and hope to continue so. There is no
+such thing as music in this place, but I have found an organ where I
+can play. My Cremona is uninjured, though it has passed through hard
+times--it sends a note of love to my Teresina. Remember your Paolo to
+the just and upright Thornton, whom you love. May God bless my little
+sister's husband, and fill his heart with love for the sweetest of
+children!
+
+"Read this manuscript carefully, Teresuola mia dolcissima, and pray for
+the souls of those unhappy ones who perished by the pestilence."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+JOURNAL OF PAOLO LANGHETTI.
+
+Liverpool, June 2, 1840.--I promised you, my Teresina, to keep a diary
+of all my wanderings, and now I begin, not knowing whether it will be
+worth reading or not, but knowing this: that my corellina will read it
+all with equal interest, whether it be trivial or important.
+
+I have taken passage in the ship _Tecumseh_ from Liverpool to Quebec.
+I have embarked in her for no better reason than this, that she is the
+first that will sail, and I am impatient. The first New York ship does
+not leave for a fortnight. A fortnight in Liverpool! Horror!
+
+I have been on board to secure my room. I am told that there is a large
+number of emigrants. It is a pity, but it can not be helped. All ships
+have emigrants now. Ireland is being evacuated. There will soon be no
+peasants to till the soil. What enormous misery must be in that most
+wretched of countries! Is Italy worse? Yes, far worse; for Italy has a
+past to contrast with the present, whereas Ireland has no past.
+
+At Sea, June 4.--We are many miles out in the Irish Channel. There are
+six hundred emigrants on board--men, women, and children. I am told that
+most of these are from Ireland, unhappy Ireland! Some are from England,
+and are going to seek their fortune in America. As I look on them I
+think, My God! what misery there is in this world! And yet what can I do
+to alleviate it? I am helpless. Let the world suffer. All will be right
+hereafter.
+
+June 10.--Six hundred passengers! They are all crowded together in a
+manner that is frightful to me. Comfort is out of the question; the
+direst distress is every where present; the poor wretches only try
+to escape suffering. During storms they are shut in; there is little
+ventilation; and the horror that reigns in that hold will not let me
+either eat or sleep. I have remonstrated with the captain, but without
+effect. He told me that he could do nothing. The owners of the ship
+put them on board, and he was employed to take them to their proper
+destination. My God! what will become of them?
+
+June 15.--There have been a few days of fine weather. The wretched
+emigrants have all been on deck. Among them I noticed three who, from
+their appearance, belonged to a different class. There was a lady with
+a young man and a young girl, who were evidently her children. The lady
+has once been beautiful, and still bears the traces of that beauty,
+though her face indicates the extreme of sadness. The son is a man of
+magnificent appearance, though as yet not full-grown. The daughter is
+more lovely than any being whom I have ever seen. She is different from
+my Bicetta. Bice is Grecian, with a face like that of a marble statue,
+and a soul of purely classic mould. Bice is serene. She reminds me of
+Artemis. Bice is an artist to her inmost heart. Bice I love as I
+love you, my Teresina, and I never expect to meet with one who can
+so interpret my ideas with so divine a voice. But this girl is more
+spiritual. Bice is classic, this one is medieval. Bice is a goddess,
+this one a saint. Bice is Artemis, or one of the Muses; this one is Holy
+Agnes or Saint Cecilia. There is in that sweet and holy face the same
+depth of devotion which our painters portray on the face of the
+Madonna. This little family group stand amidst all the other passengers,
+separated by the wide gulf of superior rank, for they are manifestly
+from among the upper classes, but still more so by the solemn isolation
+of grief. It is touching to see the love of the mother for her children,
+and the love of the children for their mother. How can I satisfy the
+longings which I feel to express to them my sympathy?
+
+June 21.--I have at length gained my desire. I have become acquainted
+with that little group. I went up to them this morning in obedience to
+a resistless impulse, and with the most tender sympathy that I could
+express; and, with many apologies, offered the young man a bottle
+of wine for his mother. He took it gratefully and frankly. He met me
+half-way in my advances. The poor lady looked at me with speechless
+gratitude, as though kindness and sympathy were unknown to her. "God
+will reward you, Sir," she said, in a tremulous voice, "for your
+sympathy with the miserable."
+
+"Dear Madame," said I, "I wish no other reward than the consciousness
+that I may have alleviated your distress."
+
+My heart bled for these poor creatures. Cast down from a life which must
+have once been one of luxury, they were now in the foulest of places,
+the hold of an emigrant ship. I went back to the captain to see if I
+could not do something in their behalf. I wished to give up my room to
+them. He said I could do so if I wished, but that there was no room
+left in the cabin. Had there been I would have hired one and insisted on
+their going there.
+
+I went to see the lady, and made this proposal as delicately as I could.
+There were two berths in my room. I urged her and her daughter to
+take them. At first they both refused most positively, with tears of
+gratitude. But I would not be so put off. To the mother I portrayed
+the situation of the daughter in that den of horror; to the daughter
+I pointed out the condition of the mother; to the son I showed the
+position of his mother and sister, and thus I worked upon the holiest
+feelings of their hearts. For myself I assured them that I could get a
+place among the sailors in the forecastle, and that I preferred doing
+so. By such means as these I moved them to consent. They did so with an
+expression of thankfulness that brought tears to my eyes.
+
+"Dear Madame," said I, "you will break my heart if you talk so. Take the
+room and say nothing. I have been a wanderer for years, and can live any
+where."
+
+It was not till then that I found out their names. I told them mine.
+They looked at one another in astonishment. "Langhetti?" said the
+mother.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Did you ever live in Holby?"
+
+"Yes. My father was organist in Trinity Church, and I and my sister
+lived there some years. She lives there still."
+
+"My God!" was her ejaculation.
+
+"Why?" I asked, with eager curiosity. "What do you know about Holby, and
+about Langhetti?"
+
+She looked at me with solemn earnestness. "I," said she, "am the wife,
+and these are the children of one who was your father's friend. He who
+was my husband, and the father of these children, was Ralph Brandon, of
+Brandon Hall."
+
+I stood for a moment stupefied. Then I burst into tears. Then I embraced
+them all, and said I know not what of pity and sympathy and affection.
+My God! to think of such a fate as this awaiting the family of Ralph
+Brandon. Did you know this, oh, Teresina? If so, why did you keep it
+secret? But no--you could not have known it. If you had this would not
+have happened.
+
+They took my room in the cabin--the dear ones--Mrs. Brandon and the
+sweet Edith. The son Frank and I stay together among the emigrants. Here
+I am now, and I write this as the sun is getting low, and the uproar of
+all these hundreds is sounding in my ears.
+
+June 30.--There is a panic in the ship. The dread pestilence known as
+"ship-fever" has appeared. This disease is the terror of emigrant ships.
+Surely there was never any vessel so well adapted to be the prey of the
+pestilence as this of ours! I have lived for ten days among the steerage
+passengers, and have witnessed their misery. Is God just? Can he look
+down unmoved upon scenes like these? Now that the disease has come,
+where will it stop?
+
+July 3.--The disease is spreading. Fifteen are prostrate. Three have
+died.
+
+July 10.--Thirty deaths have occurred, and fifty are sick. I am
+assisting to nurse them.
+
+July 15.--Thirty-four deaths since my last. One hundred and thirty are
+sick. I will labor here if I have to die for it.
+
+July 18.--If this is my last entry let this diary be sent to Mrs.
+Thornton, care of William Thornton, Holby, Pembroke, England--(the
+above entry was written in English, the remainder was all in Italian,
+as before). More than two hundred are sick. Frank Brandon is down. I am
+afraid to let his mother know it. I am working night and day. In three
+days there have been forty-seven deaths. The crew are demoralized and
+panic-stricken.
+
+July 23.--Shall I survive these horrors? More than fifty new deaths have
+occurred. The disease has spread among the sailors. Two are dead, and
+seven are sick. Horror prevails. Frank Brandon is recovering slowly.
+Mrs. Brandon does not know that he has been sick. We send word that we
+are afraid to come for fear of communicating the disease to her and to
+Edith.
+
+July 27.--More than half of the sailors are sick. Eleven dead.
+Sixty-seven passengers dead since last report. Frank Brandon almost
+well, and helping me in my work.
+
+July 30.--Nearly all the sailors more or less sick--five new deaths
+among them. Ship almost unmanageable. In the Gulf of St. Lawrence. Talk
+of putting into some port. Seventy passengers dead.
+
+August 2.--Worse yet. Disease has spread into the cabin. Three cabin
+passengers dead. God have mercy upon poor Mrs. Brandon and sweet Edith!
+All the steerage passengers, with a few exceptions, prostrate. Frank
+Brandon is weak but helps me. I work night and day. The ship is like a
+floating pest-house. Forty new deaths since last report.
+
+August 7.--Drifting along, I know not how, up the St. Lawrence. The
+weather calm, and two or three sailors able to manage the ship. Captain
+and mate both dead. Ten cabin passengers dead. Three more sailors dead.
+Only thirty-two steerage passengers dead since last report, but nearly
+all are sick. Hardly any one to attend to them.
+
+August 10.--Mrs. Brandon and Edith both sick. Frank prostrate again. God
+in heaven, have mercy!
+
+August 15.--Mrs. Brandon and Edith very low. Frank better.
+
+August 16.--Quarantine Station, Gosse Island. I feel the fever in my
+veins. If I die, farewell, sweetest sister.
+
+December 28, Halifax, Nova Scotia.--More than four months have elapsed
+since my last entry, and during the interval marvelous things have
+occurred. These I will now try to recall as I best can.
+
+My last entry was made on the day of the arrival of the _Tecumseh_ at
+the Quarantine Station, Gosse Island, Quebec. We were delayed there
+for two days. Every thing was in confusion. A large number of ships had
+arrived, and all were filled with sick. The authorities were taken by
+surprise; and as no arrangements had ever been made for such a state of
+things the suffering was extreme. The arrival of the _Tecumseh_ with
+her frightful record of deaths, and with several hundred sick still
+on board, completed the confusion. At last the passengers were removed
+somehow, I know not how or when, for I myself on the evening of our
+arrival was struck down by the fever. I suppose that Frank Brandon may
+have nursed me at first; but of that I am not sure. There was fearful
+disorder. There were few nurses and fewer doctors; and as fast as the
+sick died they were hurried hastily into shallow graves in the sand. I
+was sick for two or three weeks, and knew nothing of what was going on.
+The first thing that I saw on coming to my senses was Edith Brandon.
+
+She was fearfully changed. Unutterable grief dwelt upon her sweet young
+face, which also was pale and wan from the sickness through which she
+had passed. An awful feeling shot through me. My first question was, "Is
+your mother on shore?"
+
+She looked at me for a moment in solemn silence, and, slowly raising her
+hand, pointed upward.
+
+"Your brother?" I gasped.
+
+She turned her head away. I was silent. They were dead, then. O God!
+and this child--what had she not been suffering? My mind at once, in its
+agony of sympathy with her, burst through the clouds which sickness had
+thrown around it. "Poor child!" I said. "And why are you here?"
+
+"Where else can I go?" she answered, mournfully.
+
+"At least, you should not wear yourself out by my bedside."
+
+"You are the only one left whom I know. I owe you far more than the
+small attendance which I have given you."
+
+"But will you not take some rest?"
+
+"Hush! Wait till you are stronger. You are too weak now to think of
+these things."
+
+She laid her thin hand on my forehead gently. I turned my head away, and
+burst into a flood of tears. Why was it that this child was called upon
+to endure such agony? Why, in the midst of that agony, did she come to
+me to save my life? I did not resist her any longer on that day; but the
+next day I was stronger, and made her go and repose herself.
+
+For two successive days she came back. On the third day she did not
+appear. The fourth day also she was absent. Rude nurses attended to me.
+They knew nothing of her. My anxiety inspired me with such energy that
+on the fourth day I rose from my bed and staggered about to find her if
+possible.
+
+All was still confusion. Thousands of sick were on the island. The
+mistake of the first week had not yet been repaired. No one knew any
+thing of Edith. I sought her through all the wards. I went to the
+superintendent, and forced him to make inquiries about her. No one could
+tell any thing.
+
+My despair was terrible. I forced the superintendent to call up all the
+nurses and doctors, and question them all, one by one. At last an
+old Irish woman, with an awful look at me, hinted that she could tell
+something about her, and whispered a word or two in the superintendent's
+ear. He started back, with a fearful glance.
+
+"What is it? Tell, in God's name!"
+
+"The dead-house," he murmured.
+
+"Where is it? Take me there!" I cried to the woman. I clutched her arm
+and staggered after her.
+
+It was a long, low shed, open on all sides. Twelve bodies lay there. In
+the middle of the row was Edith. She was more beautiful than an angel.
+A smile wreathed her lips; her eyes looked as though she slumbered.
+I rushed up to her and caught her in my arms. The next moment I fell
+senseless.
+
+When I revived I was lying in one of the sick-sheds, with a crowd of
+sufferers around me. I had only one thought, and that was Edith. I rose
+at once, weak and trembling, but the resolve of my soul gave strength to
+my body. An awful fear had taken possession of me, which was accompanied
+by a certain wild hope. I hurried, with staggering feet, to the
+dead-house.
+
+All the bodies were gone. New ones had come in.
+
+"Where is she?" I cried to the old woman who had charge there. She knew
+to whom I referred.
+
+"Buried," said she.
+
+I burst out into a torrent of imprecations. "Where have they buried her?
+Take me to the place!" I cried, as I flung a piece of gold to the woman.
+She grasped it eagerly. "Bring a spade, and come quick, for God's sake!
+_She is not dead!_"
+
+How did I have such a mad fancy? I will tell you. This ship-fever often
+terminates in a sort of stupor, in which death generally takes place.
+Sometimes, however, the patient who has fallen into this stupor revives
+again. It is known to the physicians as the "trance state." I had seen
+cases of this at sea. Several times people were thrown overboard when I
+thought that they did not have all the signs of death, and at last, in
+two cases of which I had charge, I detained the corpses three days, in
+spite of the remonstrances of the other passengers. _These two revived._
+By this I knew that some of those who were thrown overboard were not
+dead. Did I feel horror at this, my Teresa? No. "Pass away," I said,
+"unhappy ones. You are not dead. You live in a better life than this.
+What matters it whether you died by the fever or by the sea?"
+
+But when I saw Edith as she lay there my soul felt assured that she
+was not dead, and an unutterable convulsion of sorrow overwhelmed me.
+Therefore I fainted. The horror of that situation was too much for
+me. To think of that angelic girl about to be covered up alive in the
+ground; to think of that sweet young life, which had begun so brightly,
+terminating amidst such black darkness!
+
+"Now God help me!" I cried, as I hurried on after the woman; "and bring
+me there in time." There! Where? To the place of the dead. It was there
+that I had to seek her.
+
+"How long had she been in that house before I fainted?" I asked,
+fearfully.
+
+"Twenty-four hours."
+
+"And when did I faint?"
+
+"Yesterday."
+
+A pang shot through me. "Tell me," I cried, hoarsely, "when she was
+buried."
+
+"Last night."
+
+"O God!" I groaned, and I could say no more; but with new strength given
+to me in that hour of agony I rushed on.
+
+It was by the eastern shore of the island. A wide flat was there, washed
+on one side by the river. Here more than a thousand mounds arose. Alas!
+could I ever hope to find her!
+
+"Do you know where they have laid her?" I asked, tremblingly.
+
+"Yes," said the woman, confidently.
+
+Hope returned faintly. She led the way.
+
+The moon beamed out brightly from behind a cloud, illumining the waste
+of mounds. The river murmured solemnly along the shore. All my senses
+were overwhelmed in the madness of that hour. The moon seemed enlarged
+to the dimensions of a sky; the murmur of the river sounded like a
+cataract, and in the vast murmur I heard voices which seemed then like
+the voices of the dead. But the lustre of that exaggerated glow, and the
+booming concord of fancied spirit-voices were all contemned as trifles.
+I cared for nothing either natural or supernatural. Only one thought was
+present--the place where she was laid.
+
+We reached it at last. At the end of a row of graves we stopped. "Here,"
+said the woman, "are twelve graves. These were made last night. These
+are those twelve which you saw."
+
+"And where--where, O God, is SHE!"
+
+"There," replied the woman, pointing to one which was the third from the
+end.
+
+"Do not deceive me!" I cried, imploringly. "Are you sure? For I will
+tear up all these till I find her."
+
+"I am sure, for I was the one who buried her. I and a man--"
+
+I seized the spade and turned up the soil. I labored incessantly for
+what seemed an endless period. I had thrown out much earth but had not
+yet reached her. I felt my fitful strength failing me. My mind, too,
+seemed entering into a state of delirium. At last my knees gave way, and
+I sank down just as my spade touched something which gave back a hollow
+sound.
+
+My knees gave way, and I sank down. But I would not give up. I tore up
+handfuls of earth and threw them into the air.
+
+"Oh, Edith!" I cried, "I am here! I am coming! I am coming!"
+
+"Come, Sir," said the woman, suddenly, in her strong voice, yet
+pityingly. "You can do nothing. I will dig her out in a minute."
+
+[Illustration: "I TOOK HER IN MY ARMS AND BROUGHT HER FORTH FROM THE
+GRAVE," ETC.]
+
+"God forever bless you!" I cried, leaping out and giving place to her. I
+watched her as she threw out the earth. Hungrily I gazed, devouring that
+dark aperture with my eyes till at last the rough boards appeared.
+
+Then I leaped down. I put my fingers at the edge and tore at it till
+it gave way. The lid was only fastened with a few nails. My bleeding
+fingers clutched it. It yielded to my frantic exertions.
+
+O my God! was there ever a sight on earth like that which now met my
+eyes as I raised the lid and looked below? The moon, which was high in
+the sky, streamed down directly into the narrow cell. It showed me the
+one whom I sought. Its bright beams threw a lustre round that face which
+was upturned toward me. Ah me! how white was that face; like the face of
+some sleeping maiden carved in alabaster. Bathed in the moonbeams it lay
+before me, all softened and refined and made pure; a face of unearthly
+beauty. The dark hair caught the moon's rays, and encircled the head
+like a crown of immortality. Still the eyes were closed as though in
+slumber; still the lips were fixed into a smile. She lay as one who had
+fallen into a deep, sweet sleep--as one who in that sleep has dreams, in
+which are visions of more than earthly beauty, and scenes of more than
+mortal happiness.
+
+Now it was with me as though at that unequaled vision I had drawn into
+my inmost being some sudden stimulus--a certain rapture of newborn
+strength; strength no longer fitful and spasmodic, but firm, well
+fortified and well sustained.
+
+I took her in my arms and brought her forth from the grave into the life
+of earth.
+
+Ah me! how light a thing was that frail and slender figure which had
+been worn down by the unparalleled suffering through which she had
+passed. This thought transfixed me with a pang of anguish--even awed the
+rapture that I felt at clasping her in my arms.
+
+But now that I had her, where was I to seek for a place of shelter? I
+turned to the woman and asked: "Is there any secluded place where she
+may sleep undisturbed till she wakes--"
+
+"No, there is none but what is crowded with the sick and dying in all
+this island."
+
+"I must have some place."
+
+"There is only one spot that is quiet."
+
+"What one?"
+
+"The dead-house."
+
+I shuddered. "No, not there. See," said I, and I handed her a piece of
+gold. "Find me some place and you shall have still more."
+
+"Well," she said, hesitatingly, "I have the room where me and my man
+live. I suppose we could give up that."
+
+"Take me there, then."
+
+"Shall I help you carry her?"
+
+"No," I answered, drawing back my pure Edith from her outstretched
+hands. "No, I will carry her."
+
+The woman went on without a word. She led the way back to the low and
+dismal sheds which lay there like a vast charnel-house, and thence to a
+low hut some distance away from all, where she opened a door. She spoke
+a few words to a man, who finally withdrew. A light was burning. A rude
+cot was there. Here I laid the one whom I carried.
+
+"Come here," said I, "three times a day. I will pay you well for this."
+
+The woman left. All night long I watched. She lay unmoved and unchanged.
+Where was her spirit wandering? Soared it among the splendors of some
+far-off world? Lingered it amidst the sunshine of heavenly glory? Did
+her seraphic soul move amidst her peers in the assemblage of the holy?
+Was she straying amidst the trackless paths of ether with those whom she
+had loved in life, and who had gone before?
+
+All night long I watched her as she lay with her marble face and her
+changeless smile. There seemed to be communicated to me an influence
+from her which opened the eyes of my spiritual sense; and my spirit
+sought to force itself upon her far-off perceptions, that so it might
+catch her notice and bring her back to earth.
+
+The morning dawned. There was no change. Mid-day came, and still there
+was no change. I know not how it was, but the superintendent had heard
+about the grave being opened, and found me in the hut. He tried to
+induce me to give back to the grave the one whom I had rescued.
+The horror of that request was so tremendous that it force me into
+passionless calm. When I refused he threatened. At his menace I rejoined
+in such language that he turned pale.
+
+"Murderer!" said I, sternly, "is it not enough that you have sent to the
+grave many wretches who were not dead? Do you seek to send back to death
+this single one whom I have rescued? Do you want all Canada and all the
+world to ring with the account of the horrors done here, where people
+are buried alive? See, she is not dead. She is only sleeping. And yet
+you put her in the grave."
+
+"She is dead!" he cried, in mingled fear and anger--"and she must be
+buried."
+
+"She is not dead," said I, sternly, as I glared on him out of my
+intensity of anguish--"she is not dead: and if you try to send her to
+death again you must first send me. She shall not pass to the grave
+except over my corpse, and over the corpse of the first murderer that
+dares to lay hands on her."
+
+He started back--he and those who were with him. "The man is mad," they
+said.
+
+They left me in peace. I grow excited as I write. My hand trembles. Let
+me be calm.
+
+She awoke that night. It was midnight, and all was still. She opened
+her eyes suddenly, and looked full at me with an earnest and steadfast
+stare. At last a long, deep-drawn sigh broke the stillness of that lone
+chamber.
+
+"Back again"--she murmured, in a scarce audible voice--"among men, and
+to earth. O friends of the Realm of Light, must I be severed from your
+lofty communion!"
+
+As she spoke thus the anguish which I had felt at the grave was renewed.
+"You have brought me back," said she, mournfully.
+
+"No," I returned, sadly--"not I. It was not God's will that you should
+leave this life. He did not send death to you. You were sleeping, and I
+brought you to this place."
+
+"I know all," she murmured, closing her eyes. "I heard all while my
+spirit was away. I know where you found me."
+
+"I am weary," she said, after a silence. Her eyes closed again. But
+this time the trance was broken. She slept with long, deep breathing,
+interrupted by frequent sighs. I watched her through the long night.
+At first fever came. Then it passed. Her sleep became calm, and she
+slumbered like a weary child.
+
+Early in the morning the superintendent came, followed by a dozen armed
+men. He entered with a frown. I met him with my hand upraised to hush
+him, and led him gently to the bedside.
+
+"See," I whispered--"but for me she would have been BURIED ALIVE!"
+
+The man seemed frozen into dumbness. He stood ghastly white with horror,
+thick drops started from his forehead, his teeth chattered, he staggered
+away. He looked at me with a haunted face, such as belongs to one who
+thinks he has seen a spirit.
+
+"Spare me," he faltered; "do not ruin me. God knows I have tried to do
+my best!"
+
+I waved him off. "Leave me. You have nothing to fear." He turned away
+with his white face, and departed in silence with his men.
+
+After a long sleep Edith waked again. She said nothing. I did not
+wish her to speak. She lay awake, yet with closed eyes, thinking such
+thoughts as belong to one, and to one alone, who had known what she had
+known.
+
+I did not speak to her, for she was to me a holy being, not to be
+addressed lightly. Yet she did not refuse nourishment, and grew
+stronger, until at last I was able to have her moved to Quebec. There I
+obtained proper accommodations for her and good nurses.
+
+I have told you what she was before this. Subsequently there came a
+change. The nurses and the doctors called it a stupor.
+
+There was something in her face which inspired awe among all who saw
+her. If it is the soul of man that gives expression to the features,
+then her soul must have been familiar with things unknown to us. How
+often have I seen her in walking across the room stop suddenly and stand
+fixed on the spot, musing and sad! She commonly moved about as though
+she saw nothing, as though she walked in a dream, with eyes half closed,
+and sometimes murmuring inaudible words. The nurses half loved and half
+feared her. Yet there were some little children in the house who felt
+all love and no fear, for I have seen her smiling on them with a smile
+so sweet that it seemed to me as if they stood in the presence of their
+guardian angel. Strange, sad spirit, what thoughts, what memories are
+these which make her life one long reverie, and have taken from her
+all power to enjoy the beautiful that dwells on earth! She fills all my
+thoughts with her loneliness, her tears, and her spiritual face, bearing
+the marks of scenes that can never be forgotten. She lives and moves
+amidst her recollections. What is it that so overwhelms all her
+thoughts? That face of hers appears as though it had bathed itself in
+the atmosphere of some diviner world than this: and her eyes seem as if
+they may have gazed upon the Infinite Mystery.
+
+Now from the few words which she has casually dropped I gather this to
+be her own belief. That when she fell into the state of trance her soul
+was parted from her body, though still by an inexplicable sympathy she
+was aware of what was passing around her lifeless form. Yet her soul
+had gone forth into that spiritual world toward which we look from this
+earth with such eager wonder. It had mingled there with the souls
+of others. It had put forth new powers, and learned the use of new
+faculties. Then that soul was called back to its body.
+
+This maiden--this wonder among mortals--is not a mortal, she is an
+exiled soul. I have seen her sit with tears streaming down her face,
+tears such as men shed in exile. For she is like a banished man who has
+only one feeling, a longing, yearning homesickness. She has been once
+in that radiant world for a time which we call three days in our
+human calculations, but which to her seems indefinite; for as she once
+said--and it is a pregnant thought, full of meaning--there is no time
+there, all is infinite duration. The soul has illimitable powers; in an
+instant it can live years, and she in those three days had the life of
+ages. Her former life on earth has now but a faint hold upon her memory
+in comparison with that life among the stars. The sorrow that her loved
+ones endured has become eclipsed by the knowledge of the blessedness in
+which she found them.
+
+Alas! it is a blessing to die, and it is only a curse to rise from the
+dead. And now she endures this exile with an aching heart, with memories
+that are irrepressible, with longings unutterable, and yearnings that
+cannot be expressed for that starry world and that bright companionship
+from which she has been recalled. So she sometimes speaks. And little
+else can she say amidst her tears. Oh, sublime and mysterious exile,
+could I but know what you know, and have but a small part of that secret
+which you can not explain!
+
+For she can not tell what she witnessed _there_. She sometimes wishes to
+do so, but can not. When asked directly, she sinks into herself and is
+lost in thought. She finds no words. It is as when we try to explain to
+a man who has been always blind the scenes before our eyes. We can not
+explain them to such a man. And so with her. She finds in her memory
+things which no human language has been made to express. These languages
+were made for the earth, not for heaven. In order to tell me what she
+knows, she would need the language of that world, and then she could not
+explain it, for I could not understand it.
+
+Only once I saw her smile, and that was when one of the nurses casually
+mentioned, with horror, the death of some acquaintance. "Death!" she
+murmured, and her eyes lighted up with a kind of ecstasy. "Oh, that I
+might die!" She knows no blessing on earth except that which we
+consider a curse, and to her the object of all her wishes is this one
+thing--Death. I shall not soon forget that smile. It seemed of itself to
+give a new meaning to death.
+
+Do I believe this, so wild a theory, the very mention of which has
+carried me beyond myself? I do not know. All my reason rebels. It scouts
+the monstrous idea. But here she stands before me, with her memories
+and thoughts, and her wonderful words, few, but full of deepest
+meaning--words which I shall never forget--and I recognize something
+before which Reason falters. Whence this deep longing of hers? Why when
+she thinks of death does her face grow thus radiant, and her eyes kindle
+with hope? Why does she so pine and grow sick with desire? Why does
+her heart thus ache as day succeeds to day, and she finds herself still
+under the sunlight, with the landscapes and the music of this fair earth
+still around her?
+
+Once, in some speculations of mine, which I think I mentioned to you,
+Teresina, I thought that if a man could reach that spiritual world he
+would look with contempt upon the highest charms that belong to this.
+Here is one who believes that she has gone through this experience, and
+all this earth, with all its beauty, is now an object of indifference to
+her. Perhaps you may ask, Is she sane? Yes, dear, as sane as I am, but
+with a profounder experience and a diviner knowledge.
+
+After I had been in Quebec about a month I learned that one of the
+regiments stationed here was commanded by Colonel Henry Despard. I
+called on him, and he received me with unbounded delight. He made me
+tell him all about myself, and I imparted to him as much of the events
+of the voyage and quarantine as was advisable. I did not go into
+particulars to any extent, of course. I mentioned nothing about _the
+grave_. That, dearest sister, is a secret between you, and me, and
+her. For if it should be possible that she should ever be restored to
+ordinary human sympathy and feeling, it will not be well that all the
+world should know what has happened to her.
+
+His regiment was ordered to Halifax, and I concluded to comply with his
+urgent solicitations and accompany him. It is better for _her_ at any
+rate that there should be more friends than one to protect her. Despard,
+like the doctors, supposes that she is in a stupor.
+
+The journey here exercised a favorable influence over her. Her strength
+increased to a marked degree, and she has once or twice spoken about the
+past. She told me that her father wrote to his son Louis in Australia
+some weeks before his death, and urged him to come home. She thinks that
+he is on his way to England. The Colonel and I at once thought that he
+ought to be sought after without delay, and he promised to write to
+his nephew, your old playmate, who, he tells me, is to be a neighbor of
+yours.
+
+If he is still the one whom I remember--intellectual yet spiritual, with
+sound reason, yet a strong heart, if he is still the Courtenay Despard
+who, when a boy, seemed to me to look out upon the world before him with
+such lofty poetic enthusiasm--then, Teresella, you should show him this
+diary, for it will cause him to understand things which he ought to
+know. I suppose it would be unintelligible to Mr. Thornton, who is a
+most estimable man, but who, from the nature of his mind, if he read
+this, would only conclude that the writer was insane.
+
+At any rate, Mr. Thornton should be informed of the leading facts, so
+that he may see if something can be done to alleviate the distress, or
+to avenge the wrongs of one whose father was the earliest benefactor of
+his family.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+HUSBAND AND WIFE.
+
+"It is now the middle of February," said Despard, after a long pause, in
+which he had given himself up to the strange reflections which the diary
+was calculated to excite. "If Louis Brandon left Australia when he was
+called he must be in England now."
+
+"You are calm," said Mrs. Thornton. "Have you nothing more to say than
+that?"
+
+Despard looked at her earnestly. "Do you ask me such a question? It is
+a story so full of anguish that the heart might break out of pure
+sympathy, but what words could be found? I have nothing to say. I am
+speechless. My God! what horror thou dost permit!"
+
+"But something must be done," said Mrs. Thornton, impetuously.
+
+"Yes," said Despard, slowly, "but what? If we could reach our hands over
+the grave and bring back those who have passed away, then the soul of
+Edith might find peace; but now--now--we can give her no peace. She only
+wishes to die. Yet something must be done, and the first thing is to
+find Louis Brandon. I will start for London to-night. I will go and seek
+him, not for Edith's sake but for his own, that I may save one at least
+of this family. For her there is no comfort. Our efforts are useless
+there. If we could give her the greatest earthly happiness it would be
+poor and mean, and still she would sigh after that starry companionship
+from which her soul has been withdrawn."
+
+"Then you believe it."
+
+"Don't you?"
+
+"Of course; but I did not know that you would."
+
+"Why not? and if I did not believe it this at least would be plain,
+that she herself believes it. And even if it be a hallucination, it is
+a sublime one, and so vivid that it is the same to her as a reality. Let
+it be only a dream that has taken place--still that dream has made all
+other things dim, indistinct, and indifferent to her."
+
+"No one but you would read Paolo's diary without thinking him insane."
+
+Despard smiled. "Even that would be nothing to me. Some people think
+that a great genius must be insane.
+
+  'Great wits are sure to madness near allied,'
+
+you know. For my part, I consider Paolo the sublimest of men. When I saw
+him last I was only a boy, and he came with his seraphic face and his
+divine music to give me an inspiration which has biased my life ever
+since. I have only known one spirit like his among those whom I have
+met."
+
+An indescribable sadness passed over his face. "But now," he continued,
+suddenly, "I suppose Thornton must see my uncle's letter. His legal
+mind may discern some things which the law may do in this case. Edith is
+beyond all consolation from human beings, and still farther beyond all
+help from English law. But if Louis Brandon can be found the law may
+exert itself in his favor. In this respect be may be useful, and I have
+no doubt he would take up the case earnestly, out of his strong sense of
+justice."
+
+When Thornton came in to dinner Despard handed him his uncle's letter.
+The lawyer read it with deep attention, and without a word.
+
+Mrs. Thornton looked agitated--sometimes resting her head on her hand,
+at others looking fixedly at her husband. As soon as he had finished she
+said, in a calm, measured tone:
+
+"I did not know before that Brandon of Brandon Hall and all his family
+had perished so miserably."
+
+Thornton started, and looked at her earnestly. She returned his gaze
+with unutterable sadness in her eyes.
+
+"He saved my father's life," said she. "He benefited him greatly. Your
+father also was under slight obligations to him. I thought that things
+like these constituted a faint claim on one's gratitude, so that if
+one were exposed to misfortune he might not be altogether destitute of
+friends."
+
+Thornton looked uneasy as his wife spoke.
+
+"My dear," said he, "you do not understand."
+
+"True," she answered; "for this thing is almost incredible. If my
+father's friend has died in misery, unpitied and unwept, forsaken by
+all, do I not share the guilt of ingratitude? How can I absolve myself
+from blame?"
+
+"Set your mind at rest. You never knew any thing about it. I told you
+nothing on the subject."
+
+"Then you knew it!"
+
+"Stop! You can not understand this unless I explain it. You are stating
+bald facts; but these facts, painful as they are, are very much modified
+by circumstances."
+
+"Well, then, I hope you will tell me all, without reserve, for I wish to
+know how it is that this horror has happened, and I have stood idly and
+coldly aloof. My God!" she cried, in Italian; "did _he_ not--did _they_
+not in their last moments think of me, and wonder how they could have
+been betrayed by Langhetti's daughter!"
+
+"My dear, be calm, I pray. You are blaming yourself unjustly, I assure
+you."
+
+Despard was ghastly pale as this conversation went on. He turned his
+face away.
+
+"Ralph Brandon," began Thornton, "was a man of many high qualities,
+but of unbounded pride, and utterly impracticable. He was no judge
+of character, and therefore was easily deceived. He was utterly
+inexperienced in business, and he was always liable to be led astray
+by any sudden impulse. Somehow or other a man named Potts excited
+his interest about twelve or fifteen years ago. He was a mere vulgar
+adventurer; but Brandon became infatuated with him, and actually
+believed that this man was worthy to be intrusted with the management
+of large business transactions. The thing went on for years. His friends
+all remonstrated with him. I, in particular, went there to explain to
+him that the speculation in which he was engaged could not result in any
+thing except loss. But he resented all interference, and I had to leave
+him to himself.
+
+"His son Louis was a boy full of energy and fire. The family were all
+indignant at the confidence which Ralph Brandon put in this Potts--Louis
+most of all. One day he met Potts. Words passed between them, and Louis
+struck the scoundrel. Potts complained. Brandon had his son up on the
+spot; and after listening to his explanations gave him the alternative
+either to apologise to Potts or to leave the house forever. Louis
+indignantly denounced Potts to his father as a swindler. Brandon ordered
+him to his room, and gave him a week to decide.
+
+"The servants whispered till the matter was noised abroad. The county
+gentry had a meeting about it, and felt so strongly that they did an
+unparalleled thing. They actually waited on him to assure him that Potts
+was unworthy of trust, and to urge him not to treat his son so harshly.
+All Brandon's pride was roused at this. He said words to the deputation
+which cut him off forever from their sympathy, and they left in a rage.
+Mrs. Brandon wrote to me, and I went there. I found Brandon inflexible.
+I urged him to give his son a longer time, to send him to the army for
+a while, to do any thing rather than eject him. He refused to change his
+sentence. Then I pointed out the character of Potts, and told him many
+things that I had heard. At this he hinted that I wished to have the
+management of his business, and was actuated by mercenary motive. Of
+course, after this insult, nothing more was to be said. I went home and
+tried to forget all about the Brandons. At the end of the week Louis
+refused to apologize, and left his father forever."
+
+"Did you see Louis?"
+
+"I saw him before that insult to ask if he would apologize."
+
+"Did you try to make him apologize?" asked Mrs. Thornton, coldly.
+
+"Yes. But he looked at me with such an air that I had to apologize
+myself for hinting at such a thing. He was as inflexible as his father."
+
+"How else could he have been?"
+
+"Well, each might have yielded a little. It does not do to be so
+inflexible if one would succeed in life."
+
+"No," said Mrs. Thornton. "Success must be gained by flexibility. The
+martyrs were all inflexible, and they were all unsuccessful."
+
+Thornton looked at his wife hastily. Despard's hand trembled, and his
+face grew paler still with a more livid pallor.
+
+"Did you try to do any thing for the ruined son?"
+
+"How could I, after that insult?"
+
+"Could you not have got him a government office, or purchased a
+commission for him in the army?"
+
+"He would not have taken it from me."
+
+"You could have co-operated with his mother, and done it in her name."
+
+"I could not enter the house after being insulted."
+
+"You could have written. From what I have heard of Brandon, he was just
+the man who would have blessed any one who would interpose to save his
+son."
+
+"His son did not wish to be saved. He has all his father's
+inflexibility, but an intellect as clear as that of the most practical
+man. He has a will of iron, dauntless resolution, and an implacable
+temper. At the same time he has the open generosity and the tender heart
+of his father."
+
+"Had his father a tender heart?"
+
+"So tender and affectionate that this sacrifice of his son must have
+overwhelmed him with the deepest sorrow."
+
+"Did you ever after make any advances to any of them?"
+
+"No, never. I never went near the house."
+
+"Did you ever visit any of the county gentry to see if something could
+be done?"
+
+"No. It would have been useless. Besides, the very mention of his name
+would have been resented. I should have had to fling myself headlong
+against the feelings of the whole public. And no man has any right to do
+that."
+
+"No," said Mrs. Thornton. "No man has. That was another mistake that the
+martyrs made. They would fling themselves against public opinion."
+
+"All men can not be martyrs. Besides, the cases are not analogous."
+
+Thornton spoke calmly and dispassionately.
+
+"True. It is absurd in me; but I admire one who has for a moment
+forgotten his own interests or safety in thinking of others."
+
+"That does very well for poetry, but not in real life."
+
+"In _real life_, such as that on board the _Tecumseh_?" murmured Mrs.
+Thornton, with drooping eyelids.
+
+"You are getting excited, my dear," said Thornton, patiently, with the
+air of a wise father who overlooks the petulance of his child. "I
+will go on. I had business on the Continent when poor Brandon's ruin
+occurred. You were with me, my dear, at Berlin when I heard about it. I
+felt shocked, but not surprised. I feared that it would come to that."
+
+"You showed no emotion in particular."
+
+"No; I was careful not to trouble you."
+
+"You were in Berlin three months. Was it at the beginning or end of your
+stay?"
+
+"At the beginning."
+
+"And you staid?"
+
+"I had business which I could not leave."
+
+"Would you have been ruined if you had left?"
+
+"Well, no--not exactly ruined, but it would have entailed serious
+consequences."
+
+"Would those consequences have been as serious as the _Tecumseh_
+tragedy?"
+
+"My dear, in business there are rules which a man is not permitted to
+neglect. There are duties and obligations which are imperative. The code
+of honor there is as delicate, yet as rigid, as elsewhere."
+
+"And yet there are times when all obligations of this sort are weakened.
+When friends die, this is recognized. Why should it not be so when they
+are in danger of a fate worse than death?"
+
+Thornton elevated his eyebrows, and made no reply.
+
+"You must have heard about it in March, then?"
+
+"Yes, at the end of January. His ruin took place in December, 1845. It
+was the middle of May before I got home. I then, toward the end of the
+month, sent my clerk to Brandon village to make inquiries. He brought
+word of the death of Brandon, and the departure of his family to parts
+unknown."
+
+[Illustration: "THEN, COVERING HER FACE WITH HER HANDS, SHE BURST INTO
+AN AGONY OF TEARS."]
+
+"Did he make no particular inquiries?"
+
+"No."
+
+"And you said not a word to me!"
+
+"I was afraid of agitating you, my dear."
+
+"And therefore you have secured for me unending self-reproach."
+
+"Why so? Surely you are blaming yourself without a shadow of a cause."
+
+"I will tell you why. I dare say I feel unnecessarily on the subject,
+but I can not help it. It is a fact that Brandon was always impulsive
+and culpably careless about himself. It is to this quality, strangely
+enough, that I owe my father's life, and my own comfort for many years.
+Paolo also owes as much as I. Mr. Brandon, with a friend of his, was
+sailing through the Mediterranean in his own yacht, making occasional
+tours into the country at every place where they happened to land, and
+at last they came to Girgenti, with the intention of examining the ruins
+of Agrigentum. This was in 1818, four years before I was born. My father
+was stopping at Girgenti, with his wife and Paolo, who was then six
+years old. My father had been very active under the reign of Murat, and
+had held a high post in his government. This made him suspected after
+Murat's overthrow.
+
+"On the day that these Englishmen visited Girgenti, a woman in deep
+distress came to see them, along with a little boy. It was my mother and
+Paolo. She flung herself on the floor at their feet, and prayed them to
+try and help her husband, who had been arrested on a charge of treason
+and was now in prison. He was suspected of belonging to the Carbonari,
+who were just beginning to resume their secret plots, and were showing
+great activity. My father belonged to the innermost degree, and had
+been betrayed by a villain named Cigole. My mother did not tell them all
+this, but merely informed them of his danger.
+
+"At first they did not know what to do, but the prayers of my mother
+moved their hearts. They went to see the captain of the guard, and tried
+to bribe him, but without effect. They found out, however, where my
+father was confined, and resolved upon a desperate plan. They put my
+mother and Paolo on board of the yacht, and by paying a heavy bribe
+obtained permission to visit my father in prison. Brandon's friend was
+about the same height as my father. When they reached his cell they
+urged my father to exchange clothes with him and escape. At first he
+positively refused, but when assured that Brandon's friend, being an
+Englishman, would be set free in a few days, he consented. Brandon then
+took him away unnoticed, put him on board of the yacht, and sailed to
+Marseilles, where he gave him money enough to get to England, and told
+him to stop at Brandon Hall till he himself arrived. He then sailed back
+to see about his friend.
+
+"He found out nothing about him for some time. At last he induced the
+British embassador to take the matter in hand, and he did so with such
+effect that the prisoner was liberated. He had been treated with some
+severity at first, but he was young, and the government was persuaded to
+look upon it as a youthful freak. Brandon's powerful influence with the
+British embassador obtained his unconditional release.
+
+"My father afterward obtained a situation here at Holby, where he was
+organist till he died. Through all his life he never ceased to receive
+kindness and delicate acts of attention from Brandon. When in his last
+sickness Brandon came and staid with him till the end. He then wished to
+do something for Paolo, but Paolo preferred seeking his own fortune in
+his own way."
+
+Mrs. Thornton ended her little narrative, to which Despard had listened
+with the deepest attention.
+
+"Who was Brandon's friend?" asked Despard.
+
+"He was a British officer," said Mrs. Thornton. "For fear of dragging in
+his government, and perhaps incurring dismissal from the army, he gave
+an assumed name--Mountjoy. This was the reason why Brandon was so long
+in finding him."
+
+"Did your father not know it?"
+
+"On the passage Brandon kept it secret, and after his friend's
+deliverance he came to see my father under his assumed name. My father
+always spoke of him as Mountjoy. After a time he heard that he was
+dead."
+
+"I can tell you his true name," said Mr. Thornton. "There is no reason
+why you should not know it."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Lionel Despard--your father, and Ralph Brandon's bosom friend."
+
+Despard looked transfixed. Mrs. Thornton gazed at her husband, and gave
+an unutterable look at Despard, then, covering her face with her hands,
+she burst into an agony of tears.
+
+"My God," cried Despard, passing his hand over his forehead, "my father
+died when I was a child, and nobody was ever able to tell me any thing
+about him. And Brandon was his friend. He died thus, and his family have
+perished thus, while I have known nothing and done nothing."
+
+"You at least are not to blame," said Thornton, calmly, "for you had
+scarcely heard of Brandon's name. You were in the north of England when
+this happened, and knew nothing whatever about it."
+
+That evening Despard went home with a deeper trouble in his heart.
+He was not seen at the Grange for a month. At the end of that time he
+returned. He had been away to London during the whole interval.
+
+As Mrs. Thornton entered to greet him her whole face was overspread with
+an expression of radiant joy. He took both her hands in his and pressed
+them without a word. "Welcome back," she murmured--"you have been gone a
+long time."
+
+"Nothing but an overpowering sense of duty could have kept me away so
+long," said he, in a deep, low voice.
+
+A few similar commonplaces followed; but with these two the tone of the
+voice invested the feeblest commonplaces with some hidden meaning.
+
+At last she asked: "Tell me what success you had?" He made no reply;
+but taking a paper from his pocket opened it, and pointed to a marked
+paragraph. This was the month of March. The paper was dated January 14,
+1847. The paragraph was as follows:
+
+"DISTRESSING CASUALTY.--The ship _Java_, which left Sydney on the 5th
+of August last, reports a stormy passage. On the 12th of September a
+distressing casualty occurred. They were in S. lat. 11 deg. 1' 22", E. long.
+105 deg. 6' 36", when a squall suddenly struck the ship. A passenger, Louis
+Brandon, Esq., of the firm of Compton & Brandon, Sydney, was standing
+by the lee-quarter as the squall struck, and, distressing to narrate, he
+was hurled violently overboard. It was impossible to do any thing, as
+a monsoon was beginning, which raged for twenty-four hours. Mr. Brandon
+was coming to England on business.
+
+"The captain reports a sand-bank in the latitude and longitude indicated
+above, which he names 'Coffin Island,' from a rock of peculiar shape at
+the eastern extremity. Ships will do well in future to give this place a
+wide berth."
+
+Deep despondency came over Mrs. Thornton's face as she read this. "We
+can do nothing," said she, mournfully. "He is gone. It is better for
+him. We must now wait till we hear more from Paolo. I will write to him
+at once."
+
+"And I will write to my uncle."
+
+There was a long silence. "Do you know," said Despard, finally, "that I
+have been thinking much about my father of late. It seems very strange
+to me that my uncle never told me about that Sicilian affair before.
+Perhaps he did not wish me to know it, for fear that through all my life
+I should brood over thoughts of that noble heart lost to me forever.
+But I intend to write to him, and obtain afresh the particulars of his
+death. I wish to know more about my mother. No one was ever in such
+ignorance of his parents as I have been. They merely told me that my
+father and mother died suddenly in India, and left me an orphan at the
+age of seven under the care of Mr. Henry Thornton. They never told me
+that Brandon was a very dear friend of his. I have thought also of the
+circumstances of his death, and they all seem confused. Some say he died
+in Calcutta, others say in China, and Mr. Thornton once said in Manilla.
+There is some mystery about it."
+
+"When Brandon was visiting my father," said Mrs. Thornton, "you were
+at school, and he never saw you. I think he thought you were Henry
+Despard's son."
+
+"There's some mystery about it," said Despard, thoughtfully.
+
+When Mr. Thornton came in that night he read a few extracts from the
+London paper which he had just received. One was as follows:
+
+"FOUNDERED AT SEA.--The ship _H. B. Smith_, from Calcutta, which arrived
+yesterday, reports that on the 28th January they picked up a ship's
+long-boat near the Cape Verd Islands. It was floating bottom upward. On
+the stern was painted the word _Falcon_. The ship _Falcon_ has now been
+expected for two months, and it is feared from this that she may have
+foundered at sea. The _Falcon_ was on her way from Sydney to London, and
+belonged to Messrs. Kingwood, Flaxman, & Co."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+THE SHADOW OF THE AFRICAN FOREST.
+
+Let us return to the castaways.
+
+It was morning on the coast of Africa--Africa the mysterious, the
+inhospitable Africa, _leonum arida nutrix_.
+
+There was a little harbor into which flowed a shallow, sluggish river,
+while on each side rose high hills. In front of the harbor was an island
+which concealed and protected it.
+
+Here the palm-trees grew. The sides rose steeply, the summit was lofty,
+and the towering palms afforded a deep, dense shade. The grass was fine
+and short, and being protected from the withering heat was as fine as
+that of an English lawn. Up the palm-trees there climbed a thousand
+parasitic plants, covered with blossoms--gorgeous, golden, rich beyond
+all description. Birds of starry plumage flitted through the air, as
+they leaped from tree to tree, uttering a short, wild note; through the
+spreading branches sighed the murmuring breeze that came from off the
+ocean; round the shore the low tones of the gently-washing surf were
+borne as it came in in faint undulations from the outer sea.
+
+Underneath the deepest shadow of the palms lay Brandon. He had lost
+consciousness when he fell from the boat; and now for the first time he
+opened his eyes and looked around upon the scene, seeing these sights
+and hearing the murmuring sounds.
+
+In front of him stood Beatrice, looking with dropped eyelids at the
+grass, her arms half folded before her, her head uncovered, her hair
+bound by a sort of fillet around the crown, and then gathered in great
+black curling masses behind. Her face was pale as usual, and had the
+same marble whiteness which always marked it. That face was now pensive
+and sad; but there was no weakness there. Its whole expression showed
+manifestly the self-contained soul, the strong spirit evenly-poised,
+willing and able to endure.
+
+Brandon raised himself on one arm and looked wonderingly around. She
+started. A vivid flash of joy spread over her face in one bright smile.
+She hurried up and knelt down by him.
+
+"Do not move--you are weak," she said, as tenderly as a mother to a sick
+child.
+
+Brandon looked at her fixedly for a long time without speaking. She
+placed her cool hand on his forehead. His eyes closed as though there
+were a magnetic power in her touch. After a while, as she removed her
+hand, he opened his eyes again. He took her hand and held it fervently
+to his lips. "I know," said he, in a low, dreamy voice, "who you are,
+and who I am--but nothing more. I know that I have lost all memory; that
+there has been some past life of great sorrow; but I can not think what
+that sorrow is--I know that there has been some misfortune, but I can
+not remember what."
+
+Beatrice smiled sadly. "It will all come to you in time."
+
+"At first when I waked," he murmured, "and looked around on this scene,
+I thought that I had at last entered the spirit-world, and that you had
+come with me; and I felt a deep joy that I can never express. But I see,
+and I know now, that I am yet on the earth. Though what shore of all the
+earth this is, or how I got here, I know not."
+
+"You must sleep," said she, gently.
+
+"And you--you--you," he murmured, with indescribable intensity--"you,
+companion, preserver, guardian angel--I feel as though, if I were not a
+man, I could weep my life out at your feet."
+
+"Do not weep," said she, calmly. "The time for tears may yet come; but
+it is not now."
+
+He looked at her, long, earnestly, and inquiringly, still holding her
+hand, which he had pressed to his lips. An unutterable longing to ask
+something was evident; but it was checked by a painful embarrassment.
+
+"I know nothing but this," said he at last, "that I have felt as though
+sailing for years over infinite seas. Wave after wave has been impelling
+us on. A Hindu servant guided the boat. But I lay weak, with my head
+supported by you, and your arms around me. Yet, of all the days and all
+the years that ever I have known, these were supreme, for all the
+time was one long ecstasy. And now, if there is sorrow before me,"
+he concluded, "I will meet it resignedly, for I have had my heaven
+already."
+
+"You have sailed over seas," said she, sadly; "but I was the helpless
+one, and you saved me from death."
+
+"And are you--to me--what I thought?" he asked, with painful vehemence
+and imploring eyes.
+
+"I am your nurse," said she, with a melancholy smile.
+
+He sighed heavily. "Sleep now," said she, and she again placed her hand
+upon his forehead. Her touch soothed him. Her voice arose in a low song
+of surpassing sweetness. His senses yielded to the subtle incantation,
+and sleep came to him as he lay.
+
+When he awaked it was almost evening. Lethargy was still over him, and
+Beatrice made him sleep again. He slept into the next day. On waking
+there was the same absence of memory. She gave him some cordial to
+drink, and the draught revived him. Now he was far stronger, and he sat
+up, leaning against a tree, while Beatrice knelt near him. He looked at
+her long and earnestly.
+
+"I would wish never to leave this place, but to stay here," said he. "I
+know nothing of my past life. I have drunk of Lethe. Yet I can not help
+struggling to regain knowledge of that past."
+
+He put his hand in his bosom, as if feeling for some relic.
+
+"I have something suspended about my neck," said he, "which is precious.
+Perhaps I shall know what it is after a time."
+
+Then, after a pause, "Was there not a wreck?" he asked.
+
+"Yes; and you saved my life."
+
+"Was there not a fight with pirates?"
+
+"Yes; and you saved my life," said Beatrice again.
+
+"I begin to remember," said Brandon. "How long is it since the wreck
+took place?"
+
+"It was January 15."
+
+"And what is this?"
+
+"February 6. It is about three weeks."
+
+"How did I get away?"
+
+"In a boat with me and the servant."
+
+"Where is the servant?"
+
+"Away providing for us. You had a sun-stroke. He carried you up here."
+
+"How long have I been in this place?"
+
+"A fortnight."
+
+Numerous questions followed. Brandon's memory began to return. Yet, in
+his efforts to regain knowledge of himself, Beatrice was still the most
+prominent object in his thoughts. His dream-life persisted in mingling
+itself with his real life.
+
+"But you," he cried, earnestly--"you, how have you endured all this? You
+are weary; you have worn yourself out for me. What can I ever do to show
+my gratitude? You have watched me night and day. Will you not have more
+care of your own life?"
+
+The eyes of Beatrice kindled with a soft light. "What is my life?" said
+she. "Do I not owe it over and over again to you? But I deny that I am
+worn out."
+
+Brandon looked at her with earnest, longing eyes. His recovery was
+rapid. In a few days he was able to go about. Cato procured fish from
+the waters and game from the woods, so as to save the provisions of the
+boat, and they looked forward to the time when they might resume their
+journey. But to Brandon this thought was repugnant, and an hourly
+struggle now went on within him. Why should he go to England? What could
+he do? Why should he ever part from her?
+
+  "Oh, to burst all links of habit, and to wander far away,
+  On from island unto island at the gateways of the day!"
+
+In her presence he might find peace, and perpetual rapture in her smile.
+
+In the midst of such meditations as these her voice once arose from
+afar. It was one of her own songs, such as she could improvise. It spoke
+of summer isles amidst the sea; of soft winds and spicy breezes; of
+eternal rest beneath over-shadowing palms. It was a soft, melting
+strain--a strain of enchantment, sung by one who felt the intoxication
+of the scene, and whose genius imparted it to others. He was like
+Ulysses listening to the song of the sirens. It seemed to him as though
+all nature there joined in that marvelous strain. It was to him as
+though the very winds were lulled into calm, and a delicious languor
+stole upon all his senses.
+
+  "Sweet, sweet, sweet, god Pan,
+    Sweet in the fields by the river,
+  Blinding sweet, oh great god Pan,
+    The sun on the hills forgot to die,
+    And the lily revived, and the dragon-fly
+  Came back to dream by the river."
+
+It was the [Greek: meligaerun opa], the [Greek: opa kallimon] of the
+sirens.
+
+For she had that divine voice which of itself can charm the soul; but,
+in addition, she had that poetic genius which of itself could give words
+which the music might clothe.
+
+Now, as he saw her at a distance through the trees and marked the
+statuesque calm of her classic face, as she stood there, seeming in her
+song rather to soliloquize than to sing, breathing forth her music "in
+profuse strains of unpremeditated art," the very beauty of the singer
+and the very sweetness of the song put an end to all temptation.
+
+"This is folly," he thought. "Could one like that assent to my wild
+fancy? Would she, with her genius, give up her life to me? No; that
+divine music must be heard by larger numbers. She is one who thinks she
+can interpret the inspiration of Mozart and Handel. And who am I?"
+
+Then there came amidst this music a still small voice, like the voice of
+those helpless ones at home; and this voice seemed one of entreaty and
+of despair. So the temptation passed. But it passed only to be renewed
+again. As for Beatrice, she seemed conscious of no such effect as this.
+Calmly and serenely she bore herself, singing as she thought, as the
+birds sing, because she could not help it. Here she was like one of
+the classic nymphs--like the genius of the spot--like Calypso, only
+passionless.
+
+Now, the more Brandon felt the power of her presence the more he took
+refuge within himself, avoiding all dangerous topics, speaking only of
+external things, calling upon her to sing of loftier themes, such as
+those "_cieli immensi_" of which she had sung when he first heard her.
+Thus he fought down the struggles of his own heart, and crushed out
+those rising impulses which threatened to sweep him helplessly away.
+
+As for Beatrice herself she seemed changeless, moved by no passion and
+swayed by no impulse. Was she altogether passionless, or was this her
+matchless self-control? Brandon thought that it was her nature, and that
+she, like her master Langhetti, found in music that which satisfied all
+passion and all desire.
+
+In about a fortnight after his recovery from his stupor they were ready
+to leave. The provisions in the boat were enough for two weeks' sail.
+Water was put on board, and they bade adieu to the island which had
+sheltered them.
+
+This time Beatrice would not let Brandon row while the sun was up. They
+rowed at night, and by day tried to get under the shadow of the shore.
+At last a wind sprang up; they now sailed along swiftly for two or three
+days. At the end of that time they saw European houses, beyond which
+arose some roofs and spires. It was Sierra Leone. Brandon's conjectures
+had been right. On landing here Brandon simply said that they had been
+wrecked in the _Falcon_, and had escaped on the boat, all the rest
+having perished. He gave his name as Wheeler. The authorities received
+these unfortunate ones with great kindness, and Brandon heard that a
+ship would leave for England on the 6th of March.
+
+The close connection which had existed between them for so many weeks
+was now severed, and Brandon thought that this might perhaps remove that
+extraordinary power which he felt that she exerted over him. Not so. In
+her absence he found himself constantly looking forward toward a meeting
+with her again. When with her he found the joy that flowed from her
+presence to be more intense, since it was more concentrated. He began to
+feel alarmed at his own weakness.
+
+The 6th of March came, and they left in the ship _Juno_ for London.
+
+Now their intercourse was like that of the old days on board the
+_Falcon_.
+
+"It is like the _Falcon_," said Beatrice, on the first evening. "Let us
+forget all about the journey over the sea, and our stay on the island."
+
+"I can never forget that I owe my life to you," said Brandon,
+vehemently.
+
+"And I," rejoined Beatrice, with kindling eyes, which yet were softened
+by a certain emotion of indescribable tenderness--"I--how can I forget!
+Twice you saved me from a fearful death, and then you toiled to save my
+life till your own sank under it."
+
+"I would gladly give up a thousand lives"--said Brandon, in a low voice,
+while his eyes were illumined with a passion which had never before been
+permitted to get beyond control, but now rose visibly, and irresistibly.
+
+"If you have a life to give," said Beatrice, calmly, returning his
+fevered gaze with a full look of tender sympathy--"if you have a life
+to give, let it be given to that _purpose_ of yours to which you are
+devoted."
+
+"You refuse it, then!" cried Brandon, vehemently and reproachfully.
+
+Beatrice returned his reproachful gaze with one equally reproachful, and
+raising her calm eyes to Heaven, said, in a tremulous voice,
+
+"You have no right to say so--least of all to _me_. I said what you feel
+and know; and it is this, that others require your life, in comparison
+with whom I am nothing. Ah, my friend," she continued, in tones of
+unutterable sadness, "let us be friends here at least, on the sea, for
+when we reach England we must be separated for evermore!"
+
+"For evermore!" cried Brandon, in agony.
+
+"For evermore!" repeated Beatrice, in equal anguish.
+
+"Do you feel very eager to get to England?" asked Brandon, after a long
+silence.
+
+"No."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because I know that there is sorrow for me there."
+
+"If our boat had been destroyed on the shore of that island," he asked,
+in almost an imploring voice, "would you have grieved?"
+
+"No."
+
+"The present is better than the future. Oh, that my dream had continued
+forever, and that I had never awaked to the bitterness of life!"
+
+"That," said Beatrice, with a mournful smile, "is a reproach to me for
+watching you."
+
+"Yet that moment of awaking was sweet beyond all thought," continued
+Brandon, in a musing tone, "for I had lost all memory of all things
+except you."
+
+They stood in silence, sometimes looking at one another, sometimes at
+the sea, while the dark shadows of the Future swept gloomily before
+their eyes.
+
+The voyage passed on until at last the English shores were seen, and
+they sailed up the Channel amidst the thronging ships that pass to and
+fro from the metropolis of the world.
+
+"To-morrow we part," said Beatrice, as she stood with Brandon on the
+quarter-deck.
+
+"No," said Brandon; "there will be no one to meet you here. I must take
+you to your home."
+
+"To my home! You?" cried Beatrice, starting back. "You dare not."
+
+"I dare."
+
+"Do you know what it is?"
+
+"I do not seek to know. I do not ask; but yet I think I know."
+
+"And yet _you_ offer to go?"
+
+"I must go. I must see you to the very last."
+
+"Be it so," said Beatrice, in a solemn voice, "since it is the very
+last."
+
+Suddenly she looked at him with the solemn gaze of one whose soul was
+filled with thoughts that overpowered every common feeling. It was a
+glance lofty and serene and unimpassioned, like that of some spirit
+which has passed beyond human cares, but sad as that of some prophet of
+woe.
+
+"Louis Brandon!"
+
+At this mention of his name a flash of unspeakable surprise passed over
+Brandon's face. She held out her hand. "Take my hand," said she, calmly,
+"and hold it so that I may have strength to speak."
+
+"Louis Brandon!" said she, "there was a time on that African island when
+you lay under the trees and I was sure that you were dead. There was no
+beating to your heart, and no perceptible breath. The last test failed,
+the last hope left me, and I knelt by your head, and took you in my
+arms, and wept in my despair. At your feet Cato knelt and mourned in his
+Hindu fashion. Then mechanically and hopelessly he made a last trial to
+see if you were really dead, so that he might prepare your grave. He put
+his hand under your clothes against your heart. He held it there for a
+long time. Your heart gave no answer. He withdrew it, and in doing
+so took something away that was suspended about your neck. This was a
+metallic case and a package wrapped in oiled silk. He gave them to me."
+
+Beatrice had spoken with a sad, measured tone--such a tone as one
+sometimes uses in prayer--a passionless monotone, without agitation and
+without shame.
+
+Brandon answered not a word.
+
+"Take my hand," she said, "or I can not go through. This only can give
+me strength."
+
+He clasped it tightly in both of his. She drew a long breath, and
+continued:
+
+"I thought you dead, and knew the full measure of despair. Now, when
+these were given me, I wished to know the secret of the man who had
+twice rescued me from death, and finally laid down his life for my sake.
+I did it not through curiosity. I did it," and her voice rose slightly,
+with solemn emphasis--"I did it through a holy feeling that, since my
+life was due to you, therefore, as yours was gone, mine should replace
+it, and be devoted to the purpose which you had undertaken.
+
+"I opened first the metallic case. It was under the dim shade of the
+African forest, and while holding on my knees the head of the man who
+had laid down his life for me. You know what I read there. I read of a
+father's love and agony. I read there the name of the one who had driven
+him to death. The shadows of the forest grew darker around me; as the
+full meaning of that revelation came over my soul they deepened into
+blackness, and I fell senseless by your side.
+
+[Illustration: "I THOUGHT YOU DEAD, AND KNEW THE FULL MEASURE OF
+DESPAIR."]
+
+"Better had Cato left us both lying there to die, and gone off in the
+boat himself. But he revived me. I laid you down gently, and propped up
+your head, but never again dared to defile you with the touch of one so
+infamous as I.
+
+"There still remained the other package, which I read--how you reached
+that island, and how you got that MS., I neither know nor seek to
+discover; I only know that all my spirit awaked within me as I read
+those words. A strange, inexplicable feeling arose. I forgot all about
+you and your griefs. My whole soul was fixed on the figure of that
+bereaved and solitary man, who thus drifted to his fate. He seemed to
+speak to me. A fancy, born out of frenzy, no doubt, for all that horror
+well-nigh drove me mad--a fancy came to me that this voice, which had
+come from a distance of eighteen years, had spoken to me; a wild fancy,
+because I was eighteen years old, that therefore I was connected with
+these eighteen years, filled my whole soul. I thought that this MS. was
+mine, and the other one yours. I read it over and over, and over yet
+again, till every word forced itself into my memory--till you and your
+sorrows sank into oblivion beside the woes of this man.
+
+"I sat near you all that night. The palms sighed in the air. I dared not
+touch you. My brain whirled. I thought I heard voices out at sea, and
+figures appeared in the gloom. I thought I saw before me the form of
+Colonel Despard. He looked at me with sadness unutterable, yet with soft
+pity and affection, and extended his hand as though to bless me. Madder
+fancies than ever then rushed through my brain. But when morning came
+and the excitement had passed I knew that I had been delirious.
+
+"When that morning came I went over to look at you. To my amazement,
+you were breathing. Your life was renewed of itself. I knelt down and
+praised God for this, but did not dare to touch you. I folded up the
+treasures, and told Cato to put them again around your neck. Then I
+watched you till you recovered.
+
+"But on that night, and after reading those MSS., I seemed to have
+passed into another stage of being. I can say things to you now which I
+would not have dared to say before, and strength is given me to tell you
+all this before we part for evermore.
+
+"I have awakened to infamy; for what is infamy if it be not this, to
+bear the name I bear? Something more than pride or vanity has been the
+foundation of that feeling of shame and hate with which I have always
+regarded it. And I have now died to my former life, and awakened to a
+new one.
+
+"Louis Brandon, the agonies which may be suffered by those whom you seek
+to avenge I can conjecture but I wish never to hear. I pray God that
+I may never know what it might break my heart to learn. You must save
+them, you must also avenge them. You are strong, and you are implacable.
+When you strike your blow will be crushing.
+
+"But I must go and bear my lot among those you strike; I will wait on
+among them, sharing their infamy and their fate. When your blow falls
+I will not turn away. I will think of those dear ones of yours who have
+suffered, and for their sakes will accept the blow of revenge."
+
+Brandon had held her hand in silence, and with a convulsive pressure
+during these words. As she stopped she made a faint effort to withdraw
+it. He would not let her. He raised it to his lips and pressed it there.
+
+Three times he made an effort to speak, and each time failed. At last,
+with a strong exertion, he uttered, in a hoarse voice and broken tones,
+
+"Oh, Beatrice! Beatrice! how I love you!"
+
+"I know it," said she, in the same monotone which she had used before--a
+tone of infinite mournfulness--"I have known it long, and I would say
+also, 'Louis Brandon, I love you,' if it were not that this would be the
+last infamy; that you, Brandon, of Brandon Hall, should be loved by one
+who bears my name."
+
+The hours of the night passed away. They stood watching the English
+shores, speaking little. Brandon clung to her hand. They were sailing up
+the Thames. It was about four in the morning.
+
+"We shall soon be there," said he; "sing to me for the last time. Sing,
+and forget for a moment that we must part."
+
+Then, in a low voice, of soft but penetrating tones, which thrilled
+through every fibre of Brandon's being. Beatrice began to sing:
+
+  "Love made us one: our unity
+  Is indissoluble by act of thine,
+  For were this mortal being ended,
+  And our freed spirits in the world above,
+  Love, passing o'er the grave, would join us there,
+  As once he joined us here:
+  And the sad memory of the life below
+  Would but unite as closer evermore.
+  No act of thine may loose
+  Thee from the eternal bond,
+  Nor shall Revenge have power
+  To disunite us _there_!"
+
+On that same day they landed in London. The Governor's lady at Sierra
+Leone had insisted on replenishing Beatrice's wardrobe, so that she
+showed no appearance of having gone through the troubles which had
+afflicted her on sea and shore.
+
+Brandon took her to a hotel and then went to his agent's. He also
+examined the papers for the last four months. He read in the morning
+journals a notice which had already appeared of the arrival of the ship
+off the Nore, and the statement that three of the passengers of the
+_Falcon_ had reached Sierra Leone. He communicated to the owners of
+the _Falcon_ the particulars of the loss of the ship, and earned their
+thanks, for they were able to get their insurance without waiting a
+year, as is necessary where nothing is heard of a missing vessel.
+
+He traveled with Beatrice by rail and coach as far as the village of
+Brandon. At the inn he engaged a carriage to take her up to her father's
+house. It was Brandon Hall, as he very well knew.
+
+But little was said during all this time. Words were useless. Silence
+formed the best communion for them. He took her hand at parting. She
+spoke not a word; his lips moved, but no audible sound escaped. Yet in
+their eyes as they fastened themselves on one another in an intense gaze
+there was read all that unutterable passion of love, of longing, and of
+sorrow that each felt.
+
+The carriage drove off. Brandon watched it. "Now farewell. Love,
+forever," he murmured, "and welcome Vengeance!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+
+INQUIRIES.
+
+So many years had elapsed since Brandon had last been in the village
+which bore the family name that he had no fear of being recognized. He
+had been a boy then, he was now a man. His features had passed from
+a transition state into their maturer form, and a thick beard and
+mustache, the growth of the long voyage, covered the lower part of the
+face like a mask. His nose which, when he left, had a boyish roundness
+of outline, had since become refined and chiseled into the straight,
+thin Grecian type. His eyes alone remained the same, yet the expression
+had grown different, even as the soul that looked forth through them had
+been changed by experience and by suffering.
+
+He gave himself out at the inn as an American merchant, and went out to
+begin his inquiries. Tearing two buttons off his coat, he entered the
+shop of the village tailor.
+
+"Good-morning," said he, civilly.
+
+"Good-morning, Sir; fine morning, Sir," answered the tailor, volubly. He
+was a little man, with a cast in his eye, and on looking at Brandon he
+had to put his head on one side, which he did with a quick, odd gesture.
+
+"There are two buttons off my coat, and I want to know if you can repair
+it for me?"
+
+"Certainly, Sir; certainly. Take off your coat, Sir, and sit down."
+
+"The buttons," said Brandon, "are a little odd; but if you have not got
+any exactly like them, any thing similar will do."
+
+"Oh, I think we'll fit you out, Sir. I think we'll fit you out,"
+rejoined the tailor, briskly.
+
+He bustled about among his boxes and drawers, pulled out a large number
+of articles, and finally began to select the buttons which were nearest
+like those on the coat.
+
+"This is a fine little village," said Brandon, carelessly.
+
+"Yes, Sir; that's a fact, Sir; that's just what every body says, Sir."
+
+"What old Hall is that which I saw just outside the village?"
+
+"Ah, Sir, that old Hall is the very best in the whole county. It is
+Brandon Hall, Sir."
+
+"Brandon Hall?"
+
+"Yes, Sir."
+
+"I suppose this village takes the name from the Hall--or is it the Hall
+that is named after the village?"
+
+"Well, neither, Sir. Both of them were named after the Brandon family."
+
+"Is it an old family? It must be, of course."
+
+"The oldest in the county, Sir."
+
+"I wonder if Mr. Brandon would let a stranger go through his grounds?
+There is a hill back of the house that I should like to see."
+
+"Mr. Brandon!" exclaimed the tailor, shaking his head; "Mr. Brandon!
+There ain't no Mr. Brandon now!"
+
+"How is that?"
+
+"Gone, Sir--ruined--died out."
+
+"Then the man that lives there now is not Mr. Brandon?"
+
+"Nothing of the kind, Sir! He, Sir! Why he isn't fit to clean the shoes
+of any of the old Brandons!"
+
+"Who is he?"
+
+"His name, Sir, is Potts."
+
+"Potts! That doesn't sound like one of your old county names."
+
+"I should think not, Sir. Potts! Why, Sir, he's generally believed
+in this here community to be a villain, Sir," said the little tailor,
+mysteriously, and with the look of a man who would like very well to be
+questioned further.
+
+Brandon humored him. "How is that?"
+
+"It's a long story, Sir."
+
+"Oh, well--tell it. I have a great curiosity to hear any old stories
+current in your English villages. I'm an American, and English life is
+new to me."
+
+"I'll bet you never heard any thing like this in all your born days."
+
+"Tell it then, by all means."
+
+The tailor jumped down from his seat, went mysteriously to the door,
+looked cautiously out, and then returned.
+
+"It's just as well to be a little careful," said he, "for if that man
+knew that I was talking about him he'd take it out of me quick enough, I
+tell you."
+
+"You seem to be afraid of him."
+
+"We're all afraid of him in the village, and hate him; but I hope to God
+he'll catch it yet!"
+
+"How can you be afraid of him? You all say that this is a free country."
+
+"No man, Sir, in any country, is free, except he's rich. Poor people
+can be oppressed in many ways; and most of us are in one way or other
+dependent on him. We hate him all the worse, though. But I'll tell you
+about him."
+
+"Yes, go on."
+
+"Well, Sir, old Mr. Brandon, about twenty years ago, was one of the
+richest men in the county. About fifteen years ago the man Potts turned
+up, and however the old man took a fancy to him I never could see, but
+he did take a fancy to him, put all his money in some tin mines that
+Potts had started, and the end of it was Potts turned out a scoundrel,
+as every one said he would, swindled the old man out of every penny, and
+ruined him completely. Brandon had to sell his estate, and Potts bought
+it with the very money out of which he had cheated the old man."
+
+"Oh! impossible!" said Brandon. "Isn't that some village gossip?"
+
+"I wish it was, Sir--but it ain't. Go ask any man here, and he'll tell
+you the same."
+
+"And what became of the family?" asked Brandon, calmly.
+
+"Ah, Sir! that is the worst part of it."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I'll tell you, Sir. He was ruined. He gave up all. He hadn't a penny
+left. He went out of the Hall and lived for a short time in a small
+house at the other end of the village. At last he spent what little
+money he had left, and they all got sick. You wouldn't believe what
+happened after that."
+
+"What was it?"
+
+"They were all taken to the alms-house."
+
+A burst of thunder seemed to sound in Brandon's ears as he heard this,
+which he had never even remotely imagined. The tailor was occupied with
+his own thoughts, and did not notice the wildness that for an instant
+appeared in Brandon's eyes. The latter for a moment felt paralyzed
+and struck down into nothingness by the shock of that tremendous
+intelligence.
+
+"The people felt dreadfully about it," continued the tailor, "but they
+couldn't do any thing. It was Potts who had the family taken to the
+alms-house. Nobody dared to interfere."
+
+"Did none of the county families do anything?" said Brandon, who at
+last, by a violent effort, had regained his composure.
+
+"No. They had all been insulted by the old man, so now they let him
+suffer."
+
+"Had he no old friends, or even acquaintances?"
+
+"Well, that's what we all asked ourselves, Sir; but at any rate, whether
+he had or not, they didn't turn up--that is, not in time. There was a
+young man here when it was too late."
+
+"A young man?"
+
+"Yes, Sir."
+
+"Was he a relative?"
+
+"Oh no, Sir, only a lawyer's clerk; wanted to see about business I dare
+say. Perhaps to collect a bill. Let me see; the lawyer who sent him was
+named Thornton."
+
+"Thornton!" said Brandon, as the name sank into his soul.
+
+"Yes; he lived at Holby."
+
+Brandon drew a long breath.
+
+"No, Sir; no friends came, whether he had any or not. They were all sick
+at the alms-house for weeks."
+
+"And I suppose they all died there?" said Brandon, in a strange, sweet
+voice.
+
+"No, Sir. They were not so happy."
+
+"What suffering could be greater?"
+
+"They do talk dreadfully in this town, Sir; and I dare say it's not
+true, but if it is it's enough to make a man's blood ran cold."
+
+"You excite my curiosity. Remember I am an American, and these things
+seem odd to me. I always thought your British aristocrats could not be
+ruined."
+
+"Here was one, Sir, that was, anyhow."
+
+"Go on."
+
+"Well, Sir, the old man died in the alms-house. The others got well. As
+soon as they were well enough they went away."
+
+"How did they get away?"
+
+"Potts helped them," replied the tailor, in a peculiar tone. "They went
+away from the village."
+
+"Where did they go?"
+
+"People say to Liverpool. I only tell what I know. I heard young Bill
+Potts, the old fellow's son, boasting one night at the inn where he was
+half drunk, how they had served the Brandons. He said they wanted to
+leave the village, so his father helped them away to America."
+
+"To America?"
+
+"Yes, Sir."
+
+Brandon made no rejoinder.
+
+"Bill Potts said they went to Liverpool, and then left for America to
+make their fortunes."
+
+"What part of America?" asked Brandon, indifferently. "I never saw or
+heard of them."
+
+"Didn't you, Sir?" asked the tailor, who evidently thought that America
+was like some English county, where every body may hear of every body
+else. "That's odd, too. I was going to ask you if you had."
+
+"I wonder what ship they went out in?"
+
+"That I can't say, Sir. Bill Potts kept dark about that. He said one
+thing, though, that set us thinking."
+
+"What was that?"
+
+"Why, that they went out in an emigrant ship as steerage passengers."
+
+Brandon was silent.
+
+"Poor people!" said he at last.
+
+By this time the tailor had finished his coat and handed it back to him.
+Having obtained all the information that the man could give Brandon paid
+him and left.
+
+Passing by the inn he walked on till he came to the alms-house. Here he
+stood for a while and looked at it.
+
+Brandon alms-house was small, badly planned, badly managed, and
+badly built; every thing done there was badly and meanly done. It was
+white-washed from the topmost point of every chimney down to the lowest
+edge of the basement. A whited sepulchre. For there was foulness there,
+in the air, in the surroundings, in every thing. Squalor and dirt
+reigned. His heart grew sick as those hideous walls rose before his
+sight.
+
+Between this and Brandon Hall there was a difference, a distance almost
+immeasurable; to pass from one to the other might be conceived of as
+incredible; and yet that passage had been made.
+
+To fall so far as to go the whole distance between the two; to begin in
+one and end in the other; to be born, brought up, and live and move and
+have one's being in the one, and then to die in the other; what was more
+incredible than this? Yet this had been the fate of his father.
+
+Leaving the place, he walked directly toward Brandon Hall.
+
+Brandon Hall was begun, nobody knows exactly when; but it is said that
+the foundations were laid before the time of Egbert. In all parts of the
+old mansion the progress of English civilization might be studied; in
+the Norman arches of the old chapel, the slender pointed style of the
+fifteenth century doorway that opened to the same, the false Grecian of
+the early Tudor period, and the wing added in Elizabeth's day, the days
+of that old Ralph Brandon who sank his ship and its treasure to prevent
+it from falling into the hands of the enemy.
+
+Around this grand old Hall were scenes which could be found nowhere
+save in England. Wide fields, forever green with grass like velvet, over
+which rose groves of oak and elm, giving shelter to innumerable birds.
+There the deer bounded and the hare found a covert. The broad avenue
+that led to the Hall went up through a world of rich sylvan scenery,
+winding through groves and meadows and over undulating ground. Before
+the Hall lay the open sea about three miles away; but the Hall was on an
+eminence and overlooked all the intervening ground. Standing there
+one might see the gradual decline of the country as it sloped downward
+toward the margin of the ocean. On the left a bold promontory jutted far
+out, on the nearer side of which there was an island with a light-house;
+on the right was another promontory, not so bold. Between these two the
+whole country was like a garden. A little cove gave shelter to small
+vessels, and around this cove was the village of Brandon.
+
+Brandon Hall was one of the oldest and most magnificent of the great
+halls of England. As Brandon looked upon it it rose before him amidst
+the groves of six hundred years, its many-gabled roof rising out from
+amidst a sea of foliage, speaking of wealth, luxury, splendor, power,
+influence, and all that men hope for, or struggle for, or fight for;
+from all of which he and his had been cast out; and the one who had done
+this was even now occupying the old ancestral seat of his family.
+
+Brandon entered the gate, and walked up the long avenue till he reached
+the Hall. Here he rang the bell, and a servant appeared. "Is Mr. Potts
+at home?"
+
+"Yes," said the man, brusquely.
+
+"I wish to see him."
+
+"Who shall I say?"
+
+"Mr. Hendricks, from America."
+
+The man showed him into the drawing-room. Brandon seated himself and
+waited. The room was furnished in the most elegant manner, most of the
+furniture being old, and all familiar to him. He took a hasty glance
+around, and closed his eyes as if to shut it all out from sight.
+
+In a short time a man entered.
+
+He appeared to be between fifty and sixty years of age, of medium size,
+broad-shouldered and stout. He had a thoroughly plebeian air; he was
+dressed in black, and had a bunch of large seals dangling from beneath
+his waistcoat. His face was round and fleshy, his eyes were small,
+and his head was bald. The general expression of his face was that of
+good-natured simplicity. As he caught sight of Brandon a frank smile of
+welcome arose on his broad, fat face.
+
+[Illustration: "YOU ARE, SIR. JOHN POTTS OF POTTS HALL."]
+
+Brandon rose and bowed. "Am I addressing Mr. John Potts?"
+
+"You are, Sir. John Potts of Potts Hall."
+
+"Potts of Potts Hall!" repeated Brandon. Then, drawing a card from his
+pocket he handed it to Potts. He had procured some of these in London.
+The card read as follows:
+
+BEAMISH & HENDRICKS, FLOUR MERCHANTS & PROVISION DEALERS, 88 FRONT
+STREET, CINCINNATI, OHIO.
+
+"I, Sir," said Brandon, "am Mr. Hendricks, junior partner in Beamish &
+Hendricks, and I hope you are quite well."
+
+"Very well, thank you," answered Potts, smiling and sitting down. "I am
+happy to see you."
+
+"Do you keep your health, Sir?"
+
+"Thank you, I do," said Potts. "A touch of rheumatism at odd times,
+that's all."
+
+Brandon's manner was stiff and formal, and his voice had assumed a
+slight nasal intonation. Potts had evidently looked on him as a perfect
+stranger.
+
+"I hope, Sir, that I am not taking up your valuable time. You British
+noblemen have your valuable time, I know, as well as we business men."
+
+"No, Sir, no, Sir, not at all," said Potts, evidently greatly delighted
+at being considered a British nobleman.
+
+"Well, Sir John--or is it my lord?" said Brandon, interrogatively,
+correcting himself, and looking inquiringly at Potts.
+
+"Sir John'll do," said Potts.
+
+"Well, Sir John. Being in England on business, I came to ask you a few
+questions about a matter of some importance to us."
+
+"Proceed, Sir!" said Potts, with great dignity.
+
+"There's a young man that came into our employ last October whom we took
+a fancy to, or rather my senior did, and we have an idea of promoting
+him. My senior thinks the world of him, has the young man at his
+house, and he is even making up to his daughter. He calls himself
+Brandon--Frank Brandon."
+
+At this Potts started from an easy lounging attitude, in which he was
+trying to "do" the British noble, and with startling intensity of gaze
+looked Brandon full in the face.
+
+"I think the young man is fairish," continues Brandon, "but nothing
+extraordinary. He is industrious and sober, but he ain't quick, and
+he never had any real business experience till he came to us. Now, my
+senior from the very first was infatuated with him, gave him a large
+salary, and, in spite of my warnings that he ought to be cautious, he
+wants to make him head-clerk, with an eye to making him partner
+next year. And so bent on this is he that I know he would dissolve
+partnership with me if I refused, take the young man, let him marry his
+daughter, and leave him all his money when he dies. That's no small sum,
+for old Mr. Beamish is worth in real estate round Cincinnati over two
+millions of dollars. So, you see, I have a right to feel anxious, more
+especially as I don't mind telling you, Sir John, who understand
+these matters, that I thought I had a very good chance myself with old
+Beamish's daughter."
+
+Brandon spoke all this very rapidly, and with the air of one who was
+trying to conceal his feelings of dislike to the clerk of whom he was so
+jealous. Potts looked at him with an encouraging smile, and asked, as he
+stopped,
+
+"And how did you happen to hear of me?"
+
+"That's just what I was coming to. Sir John!" Brandon drew his chair
+nearer, apparently in deep excitement, and in a more nasal tone than
+ever, with a confidential air, he went on:
+
+"You see, I mistrusted this young man who was carrying every thing
+before him with a high hand, right in my very teeth, and I watched
+him. I pumped him to see if I couldn't get him to tell something about
+himself. But the fellow was always on his guard, and always told the
+same story. This is what he tells: He says that his father was Ralph
+Brandon of Brandon Hall, Devonshire, and that he got very poor--he was
+ruined, in fact, by--I beg your pardon, Sir John, but he says it was
+you, and that you drove the family away. They then came over to America,
+and he got to Cincinnati. The old man, he says, died before they left,
+but he won't tell what became of the others. I confess I believed it was
+all a lie, and didn't think there was any such place as Brandon Hall, so
+I determined to find out, naturally enough, Sir John, when two millions
+were at stake."
+
+Potts winked.
+
+"Well, I suddenly found my health giving way, and had to come to Europe.
+You see what a delicate creature I am!"
+
+Potts laughed with intense glee.
+
+"And I came here after wandering about, trying to find it. I heard at
+last that there was a place that used to be Brandon Hall, though most
+people call it Potts Hall. Now, I thought, my fine young man, I'll catch
+you; for I'll call on Sir John himself and ask him."
+
+"You did right, Sir," said Potts, who had taken an intense interest in
+this narrative. "I'm the very man you ought to have come to. I can tell
+you all you want. This Brandon is a miserable swindler."
+
+"Good! I thought so. You'll give me that, Sir John, over your own name,
+will you?" cried Brandon, in great apparent excitement.
+
+"Of course I will," said Potts, "and a good deal more. But tell me,
+first, what that young devil said as to how he got to Cincinnati? How
+did he find his way there?"
+
+"He would never tell."
+
+"What became of his mother and sister?"
+
+"He wouldn't say."
+
+"All I know," said Potts, "is this. I got official information that they
+all died at Quebec."
+
+Brandon looked suddenly at the floor and gasped. In a moment he had
+recovered.
+
+"Curse him! then this fellow is an impostor?"
+
+"No," said Potts, "he must have escaped. It's possible. There was some
+confusion at Quebec about names."
+
+"Then his name may really be Frank Brandon?"
+
+"It must be," said Potts. "Anyhow, the others are all right."
+
+"Are what?"
+
+"All right; dead you know. That's why he don't like to tell you about
+them."
+
+"Well, now, Sir John, could you tell me what you know about this young
+man, since you think he must be the same one?"
+
+"I know he must be, and I'll tell you all about him and the whole cursed
+lot. In the first place," continued Potts, clearing his throat, "old
+Brandon was one of the cursedest old fools that ever lived. He was very
+well off but wanted to get richer, and so he speculated in a tin mine in
+Cornwall. I was acquainted with him at the time and used to respect him.
+He persuaded me--I was always off-handed about money, and a careless,
+easy fellow--he persuaded me to invest in it also. I did so, but at the
+end of a few years I found out that the tin mine was a rotten concern,
+and sold out. I sold at a very high price, for people believed it was a
+splendid property. After this I found another mine and made money hand
+over fist. I warned old Brandon, and so did every body, but he didn't
+care a fig for what we said, and finally, one fine morning, he waked up
+and found himself ruined.
+
+"He was more utterly ruined than any man I ever knew of, and all his
+estates were sold. I had made some money, few others in the county
+had any ready cash, the sale was forced, and I bought the whole
+establishment at a remarkably low figure. I got old Brandy--Brandy was
+a nickname I gave the old fellow--I got him a house in the village,
+and supported him for a while with his wife and daughter and his great
+lubberly boy. I soon found out what vipers they were. They all turned
+against their benefactor, and dared to say that I had ruined their
+father. In fact, my only fault was buying the place, and that was an
+advantage to old Brandy rather than an injury. It shows, though, what
+human nature is.
+
+"They all got sick at last, and as they had no one to nurse them, I very
+considerately sent them all to the alms-house, where they had good beds,
+good attendance, and plenty to eat and drink. No matter what I did for
+them they abused me. They reviled me, for sending them to a comfortable
+home, and old Brandy was the worst of all. I used to go and visit him
+two or three times a day, and he always cursed me. Old Brandy did get
+awfully profane, that's a fact. The reason was his infernal pride. Look
+at me, now! I'm not proud. Put me in the alms-house, and would I curse
+you? I hope not.
+
+"At last old Brandy died, and of course I had to look out for the
+family. They seemed thrown on my hands, you know, and I was too
+good-natured to let them suffer, although they treated me so abominably.
+The best thing I could think of was to ship them all off to America,
+where they could all get rich. So I took them to Liverpool."
+
+"Did they want to go?"
+
+"They didn't seem to have an idea in their heads. They looked and acted
+just like three born fools."
+
+"Strange!"
+
+"I let a friend of mine see about them, as I had considerable to do, and
+he got them a passage."
+
+"I suppose you paid their way out."
+
+"I did, Sir," said Potts, with an air of munificence; "but, between you
+and me, it didn't cost much."
+
+"I should think it most have cost a considerable sum."
+
+"Oh no! Clark saw to that. Clark got them places as steerage
+passengers."
+
+"Young Brandon told me once that he came out as cabin passenger."
+
+"That's his cursed pride. He went out in the steerage, and a devilish
+hard time he had too."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Oh, he was a little crowded, I think! There were six hundred emigrants
+on board the _Tecumseh_--"
+
+"The what?"
+
+"The _Tecumseh_. Clark did that business neatly. Each passenger had to
+take his own provisions, so he supplied them with a lot. Now what do you
+think he gave them?"
+
+"I can't imagine."
+
+"He bought them some damaged bread at one quarter the usual price. It
+was all mouldy, you know," said Potts, trying to make Brandon see the
+joke. "I declare Clark and I roared over it for a couple of months,
+thinking how surprised they must have been when they sat down to eat
+their first dinner."
+
+"That was very neat," rejoined Brandon.
+
+"They were all sick when they left," said Potts; "but before they got to
+Quebec they were sicker, I'll bet."
+
+"Why so?"
+
+"Did you ever hear of the ship-fever?" said Potts, in a low voice which
+sent a sharp trill through every fibre of Brandon's being. He could only
+nod his head.
+
+"Well, the _Tecumseh_, with her six hundred passengers, afforded an
+uncommon fine field for the ship-fever. That's what I was going to
+observe. They had a great time at Quebec last summer; but it was
+unanimously voted that the _Tecumseh_ was the worst ship of the lot.
+I send out an agent to see what had become of my three friends, and
+he came back and told me all. He said that about four hundred of the
+_Tecumseh's_ passengers died during the voyage, and ever so many more
+after the landing. The obtained a list of the dead from the quarantine
+records, and among them were those of the these three youthful Brandons.
+Yes, they joined old Cognac pretty soon--lovely and pleasant in their
+lives, and in death not divided. But this young devil that you speak of
+must have escaped. I dare say he did, for the confusion was awful."
+
+"But couldn't there have been another son?"
+
+"Oh no. There was another son, the eldest, the worst of the whole lot,
+so infernally bad that even old Brandy himself couldn't stand it, but
+packed him off to Botany Bay. It's well he went of his own accord, for
+if he hadn't the law would have sent him there at last transported for
+life."
+
+"Perhaps this man is the same one."
+
+"Oh no. This eldest Brandy is dead."
+
+"Are you sure?"
+
+"Certain--best authority. A business friend of mine was in the same ship
+with him. Brandy was coming home to see his friends. He fell overboard
+and my friend saw him drown. It was in the Indian Ocean."
+
+"When was that?"
+
+"Last September."
+
+"Oh, then this one must be the other of course!"
+
+"No doubt of that, I think," said Potts, cheerily.
+
+Brandon rose. "I feel much obliged. Sir John," said he, stiffly, and
+with his usual nasal tone, "for your kindness. This is just what I want.
+I'll put a stop to my young man's game. It's worth coming to England to
+find out this."
+
+"Well, when you walk him out of your office, give him my respects and
+tell him I'd be very happy to see him. For I would, you know. I really
+would."
+
+"I'll tell him so," said Brandon, "and if he is alive perhaps he'll come
+here."
+
+"Ha! ha! ha!" roared Potts.
+
+"Ha! ha!" laughed Brandon, and pretending not to see Potts's
+outstretched hand, he bowed and left. He walked rapidly down the avenue.
+He felt stifled. The horrors that had been revealed to him had been but
+in part anticipated. Could there be any thing worse?
+
+He left the gates and walked quickly away, he knew not where. Turning
+into a by-path he went up a hill and finally sat down. Brandon Hall lay
+not far away. In front was the village and the sea beyond it. All the
+time there was but one train of thoughts in his mind. His wrongs
+took shape and framed themselves into a few sharply defined ideas. He
+muttered to himself over and over the things that were in his mind:
+"Myself disinherited and exiled! My father ruined and broken-hearted!
+My father killed! My mother, brother, and sister banished, starved, and
+murdered!"
+
+He, too, as far as Potts's will was concerned, had been slain. He was
+alone and had no hope that any of his family could survive. Now, as he
+sat there alone, he needed to make his plans for the future. One thing
+stood out prominently before him, which was that he must go immediately
+to Quebec to find out finally and absolutely the fate of the family.
+
+Then could any thing else be done in England? He thought over the names
+of those who had been the most intimate friends of his father--Thornton,
+Langhetti, Despard. Thornton had neglected his father in his hour of
+need. He had merely sent a clerk to make inquiries after all was over.
+The elder Langhetti, Brandon knew, was dead. Where were the others? None
+of them, at any rate, had interfered.
+
+There remained the family of Despard. Brandon was aware that the Colonel
+had a brother in the army, but where he was he knew not nor did he care.
+If he chose to look in the army register he might very easily find out;
+but why should he? He had never known or heard much of him in any way.
+
+There remained Courtenay Despard, the son of Lionel, he to whom the MS.
+of the dead might be considered after all as chiefly devolving. Of him
+Brandon knew absolutely nothing, not even whether he was alive or dead.
+
+For a time he discussed the question in his mind whether it might not
+be well to seek him out so as to show him his father's fate and gain his
+co-operation. But after a few moments' consideration he dismissed this
+thought. Why should he seek his help? Courtenay Despard, if alive, might
+be very unfit for the purpose. He might be timid, or indifferent, or
+dull, or indolent. Why make any advances to one whom he did not know?
+Afterward it might be well to find him, and see what might be done with
+or through him; but as yet there could be no reason whatever why
+he should take up his time in searching for him or in winning his
+confidence.
+
+The end of it all was that he concluded whatever he did to do it by
+himself, with no human being as his confidant.
+
+Only one or two persons in all the world knew that he was alive, and
+they were not capable, under any circumstances, of betraying him. And
+where now was Beatrice? In the power of this man whom Brandon had just
+left. Had she seen him as he came and went? Had she heard his voice as
+he spoke in that assumed tone? But Brandon found it necessary to crush
+down all thoughts of her.
+
+One thing gave him profound satisfaction, and this was that Potts did
+not suspect him for an instant. And now how could he deal with Potts?
+The man had become wealthy and powerful. To cope with him needed wealth
+and power. How could Brandon obtain these? At the utmost he could only
+count upon the fifteen thousand pounds which Compton would remit. This
+would be as nothing to help him against his enemy. He had written to
+Compton that he had fallen overboard and been picked up, and had told
+the same to the London agent under the strictest secrecy, so as to be
+able to get the money which he needed. Yet after he got it all, what
+would be the benefit? First of all, wealth was necessary.
+
+Now more than ever there came to his mind the ancestral letter which his
+father had inclosed to him--the message from old Ralph Brandon in the
+treasure-ship. It was a wild, mad hope; but was it unattainable? This
+he felt was now the one object that lay before him; this must first be
+sought after, and nothing else could be attempted or even thought
+of till it had been tried. If he failed, then other things might be
+considered.
+
+Sitting there on his lonely height, in sight of his ancestral home, he
+took out his father's last letter and read it again, after which he once
+more read the old message from the treasure-ship:
+
+"One league due northe of a smalle islet northe of the Islet of Santa
+Cruz northe of San Salvador----I Ralphe Brandon in my shippe Phoenix am
+becalmed and surrounded by a Spanish fleete----My shippe is filled with
+spoyle the Plunder of III galleons----wealth which myghte purchase a
+kyngdom-tresure equalle to an Empyr's revenue----Gold and jeweles in
+countless store----and God forbydde that itt shall falle into the hands
+of the Enemye----I therefore Ralphe Brandon out of mine owne good wyl
+and intente and that of all my men sink this shippe rather than be taken
+alyve----I send this by my trusty seaman Peter Leggit who with IX others
+tolde off by lot will trye to escape in the Boate by nighte----If this
+cometh haply into the hands of my sonne Philip let him herebye knowe
+that in this place is all this tresure----which haply may yet be gatherd
+from the sea----the Islet is knowne by III rockes that be pushed up like
+III needles from the sande.
+
+"Ralphe Brandon"
+
+Five days afterward Brandon, with his Hindu servant, was sailing out of
+the Mersey River on his way to Quebec.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+
+THE DEAD ALIVE.
+
+It was early in the month of August when Brandon visited the quarantine
+station at Gosse Island, Quebec. A low, wooden building stood near the
+landing, with a sign over the door containing only the word "OFFICE."
+To this building Brandon directed his steps. On entering he saw only one
+clerk there.
+
+"Are you the superintendent?" he asked, bowing courteously.
+
+"No," said the clerk. "He is in Quebec just now."
+
+"Perhaps you can give me the information that I want."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"I have been sent to inquire after some passengers that came out here
+last year."
+
+"Oh yes, I can tell all that can be told," said the clerk, readily. "We
+have the registration books here, and you are at liberty to look up any
+names you wish. Step this way, please." And he led the way to an inner
+office.
+
+"What year did they come out in?" asked the clerk.
+
+"Last year."
+
+"Last year--an awful year to look up. 1846--yes, here is the book for
+that year--a year which you are aware was an unparalleled one."
+
+"I have heard so."
+
+"Do you know the name of the ship?"
+
+"The _Tecumseh_."
+
+"The _Tecumseh_!" exclaimed the clerk, with a startled look. "That is
+an awful name in our records. I am sorry you have not another name to
+examine, for the _Tecumseh_ was the worst of all."
+
+Brandon bowed.
+
+"The _Tecumseh_," continued the clerk, turning over the leaves of the
+book as it lay on the desk. "The _Tecumseh_, from Liverpool, sailed June
+2, arrived August 16. Here you see the names of those who died at sea,
+copied from the ship's books, and those who died on shore. It is a
+frightful mortality. Would you like to look over the list?"
+
+Brandon bowed and advanced to the desk.
+
+"The deaths on board ship show whether they were seamen or passengers,
+and the passengers are marked as cabin and steerage. But after landing
+it was impossible to keep an account of classes."
+
+Brandon carefully ran his eye down the long list, and read each name.
+Those for which he looked did not appear. At last he came to the list
+of those who had died on shore. After reading a few names his eye was
+arrested by one--
+
+"_Brandon, Elizabeth_."
+
+It was his mother. He read on. He soon came to another--
+
+"_Brandon, Edith_." It was his sister.
+
+"Do you find any of the names?" asked the clerk, seeing Brandon turn his
+head.
+
+"Yes," said Brandon; "this is one," and he pointed to the last name.
+"But I see a mark opposite that name. What is it? 'B' and 'A.' What is
+the meaning?" "Is that party a relative of yours?"
+
+"No," said Brandon.
+
+"You don't mind hearing something horrible, then?"
+
+"No."
+
+The clerk drew a long breath.
+
+"Well, Sir, those letters were written by the late superintendent. The
+poor man is now a lunatic. He was here last year.
+
+"You see this is how it was: The ship-fever broke out. The number
+of sick was awful, and there were no preparations for them here. The
+disease in some respects was worse than cholera, and there was nothing
+but confusion. Very many died from lack of nursing. But the worst
+feature of the whole thing was the hurried burials.
+
+"I was not here last year, and all who were here then have left. But
+I've heard enough to make me sick with horror. You perhaps are aware
+that in this ship-fever there sometimes occurs a total loss of sense,
+which is apt to be mistaken for death?"
+
+The clerk paused. Brandon regarded him steadily for a moment. Then he
+turned, and looked earnestly at the book.
+
+"The burials were very hastily made."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"And it is now believed that some were buried in a state of trance."
+
+"Buried alive?"
+
+"Buried alive!"
+
+There was a long silence. Brandon's eyes were fixed on the book. At last
+he pointed to the name of Edith Brandon.
+
+"Then, I suppose," he said, in a steady voice, which, however, was in a
+changed key, "these letters 'B' and 'A' are intended to mean something
+of that description?"
+
+"Something of that sort," replied the clerk.
+
+Brandon drew a long breath.
+
+"But there is no certainty about it in this particular case. I will tell
+you how these marks happened to be made. The clerk that was here last
+told me.
+
+"One morning, according to him, the superintendent came in, looking very
+much excited and altered. He went to this book, where the entries of
+burials had been made on the preceding evening. This name was third from
+the last. Twelve had been buried. He penciled these letters there and
+left. People did not notice him: every body was sick or busy. At last
+in the evening of the next day, when they were to bury a new lot, they
+found the superintendent digging at the grave the third from the last.
+They tried to stop him, but he shouted and moaned alternately 'Buried
+alive!' 'Buried alive!' In fact they saw that he was crazy, and had to
+confine him at once."
+
+"Did they examine the grave?"
+
+"Yes. The woman told my predecessor that she and her husband--who did
+the burying--had examined it, and found the body not only dead, but
+corrupt. So there's no doubt of it. That party must have been dead at
+any rate."
+
+"Who was the woman?"
+
+"An old woman that laid them out. She and her husband buried them."
+
+"Where is she now?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Does she stay here yet?"
+
+"No. She left last year."
+
+"What became of the superintendent?"
+
+"He was taken home, but grew no better. At last he had to be sent to an
+asylum. Some examination was made by the authorities, but nothing ever
+came of it. The papers made no mention of the affair, and it was hushed
+up."
+
+Brandon read on. At last he came to another name. It was simply this:
+"_Brandon_." There was a slight movement on the clerk's part as Brandon
+came to this name. "There is no Christian name here," said Brandon. "I
+suppose they did not know it."
+
+"Well," said the clerk, "there's something peculiar about that. The
+former clerk never mentioned it to any body but me. That man didn't die
+at all."
+
+"What do you mean?" said Brandon, who could scarcely speak for the
+tremendous struggle between hope and despair that was going on within
+him.
+
+"It's a false entry."
+
+"How?"
+
+"The superintendent wrote that. See, the handwriting is different from
+the others. One is that of the clerk who made all these entries; the
+other is the superintendent's."
+
+Brandon looked and saw that this was the case.
+
+"What was the cause of that?"
+
+"The clerk told me that after making these next fifteen entries of
+buried parties--buried the evening after these last twelve--he went away
+to see about something. When he came back the next morning this name was
+written in the superintendent's hand. He did not know what to think of
+it, so he concluded to ask the superintendent; but in the course of the
+day he heard that he was mad and in confinement, as I have told you."
+
+"Then you mean that this is not an entry of a death at all."
+
+"Yes. The fact is, the superintendent for some reason got it into his
+head that this Brandon"--and he pointed to Edith's name--"had been
+buried alive. He brooded over the name, and among other things wrote it
+down here at the end of the list for the day. That's the way in which my
+predecessor accounted for it."
+
+"It is a very natural one," said Brandon.
+
+"Quite so." The clerk let it stand. You see, if he had erased it, he
+might have been overhauled, and there would have been a committee. He
+was afraid of that; so he thought it better to say nothing about it. He
+wouldn't have told me, only he said that a party came here once for a
+list of all the dead of the _Tecumseh_, and he copied all out, including
+this doubtful one. He thought that he had done wrong, and therefore told
+me, so that if any particular inquiries were ever made I might know what
+to say."
+
+"Are there many mistakes in these records?"
+
+[Illustration: "A STRANGE FEELING PASSED OVER BRANDON. HE STEPPED
+FORWARD."]
+
+"I dare say there are a good many in the list for 1846. There was so
+much confusion that names got changed, and people died whose names could
+only be conjectured by knowing who had recovered. As some of those that
+recovered or had not been sick slipped away secretly, of course there
+was inaccuracy."
+
+Brandon had nothing more to ask. He thanked the clerk and departed.
+
+There was a faint hope, then, that Frank might yet be alive. On his way
+to Quebec he decided what to do. As soon as he arrived he inserted an
+advertisement in the chief papers to the following effect:
+
+NOTICE:
+
+Information of any one of the names of "BRANDON," who came out in the
+ship _Tecumseh_ in 1846 from Liverpool to Quebec, is earnestly desired
+by friends of the family. A liberal reward will be given to any one who
+can give the above information. Apply to:
+
+Henry Peters, 22 Place d'Armes.
+
+Brandon waited in Quebec six weeks without any results. He then went to
+Montreal and inserted the same notice in the papers there, and in other
+towns in Canada, giving his Montreal address. After waiting five or six
+weeks in Montreal he went to Toronto, and advertised again, giving his
+new address. He waited here for some time, till at length the month of
+November began to draw to a close. Not yet despondent, he began to form
+a plan for advertising in every city of the United States.
+
+Meanwhile he had received many communications, all of which, however,
+were made with the vague hope of getting a reward. None were at all
+reliable. At length he thought that it was useless to wait any longer in
+Canada, and concluded to go to New York as a centre of action.
+
+He arrived in New York at the end of December, and immediately began to
+insert his notices in all parts of the country, giving his address at
+the Astor House.
+
+One day, as he came in from the street, he was informed that there was
+some one in his room who wished to see him. He went up calmly, thinking
+that it was some new person with intelligence.
+
+On entering the room he saw a man standing by the window, in his
+shirt-sleeves, dressed in coarse clothes. The man was very tall,
+broad-shouldered, with large, Roman features, and heavy beard and
+mustache. His face was marked by profound dejection; he looked like one
+whose whole life had been one long misfortune. Louis Brandon had never
+seen any face which bore so deep an impress of suffering.
+
+The stranger turned as he came in and looked at him with his sad eyes
+earnestly.
+
+"Sir," said he, in a voice which thrilled through Brandon, "are you
+Henry Peters?"
+
+A strange feeling passed over Brandon. He stepped forward.
+
+"Frank!" he cried, in a broken voice.
+
+"Merciful Heavens!" cried the other. "Have you too come up from the
+dead? Louis!"
+
+In this meeting between the two brothers, after so many eventful years
+of separation, each had much to tell. Each had a story so marvelous
+that the other might have doubted it, had not the marvels of his own
+experience been equally great. Frank's story, however, is the only one
+that the reader will care to hear, and that must be reserved for another
+chapter.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+
+FRANK'S STORY.
+
+"After you left," said Frank, "all went to confusion. Potts lorded
+it with a higher hand than ever, and my father was more than ever
+infatuated, and seemed to feel that it was necessary to justify his
+harshness toward you by publicly exhibiting a greater confidence in
+Potts. Like a thoroughly vulgar and base nature, this man could not be
+content with having the power, but loved to exhibit that power to us.
+Life to me for years became one long death; a hundred times I would have
+turned upon the scoundrel and taken vengeance for our wrongs, but the
+tears of my mother forced me to use self-control. You had been driven
+off; I alone was left, and she implored me by my love for her to stand
+by her. I wished her to take her own little property and go with me and
+Edith where we might all live in seclusion together; but this she would
+not do for fear of staining the proud Brandon name.
+
+"Potts grew worse and worse every year. There was a loathsome son of his
+whom he used to bring with him, and my father was infatuated enough to
+treat the younger devil with the same civility which he showed to the
+elder one. Poor father! he really believed, as he afterward told me,
+that these men were putting millions of money into his hands, and that
+he would be the Beckford of his generation.
+
+"After a while another scoundrel, called Clark, appeared, who was simply
+the counterpart of Potts. Of this man something very singular was soon
+made known to me.
+
+"One day I was strolling through the grounds when suddenly, as I passed
+through a grove which stood by a fish-pond, I heard voices and saw the
+two men I hated most of all on earth standing near me. They were both
+naked. They had the audacity to go bathing in the fishpond. Clark had
+his back turned toward me, and I saw on it, below the neck, three marks,
+fiery red, as though they had been made by a brand. They were these:"
+and taking a pencil, Frank made the following marks:
+
+[Illustration: ^ /|\ [three lines, forming short arrow]
+
+
+ R [sans-serif R]
+
+
+ + [plus sign] ]
+
+Louis looked at this with intense excitement.
+
+"You have been in New South Wales," said Frank, "and perhaps know
+whether it is true or not that these are brands on convicts?"
+
+"It is true, and on convicts of the very worst kind."
+
+"Do you know what they mean?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Only the worst are branded with a single mark, so you may imagine what
+a triple mark indicates. But I will tell you the meaning of each.
+The first (/|\) is the king's mark put on those who are totally
+irreclaimable and insubordinate. The second (R) means runaway, and is
+put on those who have attempted to escape. The third (+) indicated a
+murderous attack on the guards. When they are not hung, they are branded
+with this mark; and those who are branded in this way are condemned to
+hard work, in chains, for life."
+
+"That's about what I supposed," said Frank, quietly, "only of course you
+are more particular. After seeing this I told my father. He refused
+to believe me. I determined to bring matters to a crisis, and charged
+Potts, in my father's presence, with associating with a branded felon.
+Potts at once turned upon me and appealed to my father's sense of
+justice. He accused me of being so far carried away by prejudice as not
+to hesitate to invent a foul slander against an honest man. He said that
+Clark would be willing to be put to any test; he could not, however,
+ask him to expose himself--it was too outrageous but would simply assert
+that my charge was false.
+
+"My father as usual believed every word and gave me a stern reprimand.
+Louis, in the presence of my mother and sister I cursed my father on
+that day. Poor man! the blow soon fell. It was in 1845 that the crash
+came. I have not the heart to go into details now. I will tell you from
+time to time hereafter. It is enough to say that every penny was lost.
+We had to leave the Hall and took a little cottage in the village.
+
+"All our friends and acquaintances stood aloof. My father's oldest
+friends never came near him. Old Langhetti was dead. His son knew
+nothing about this. I will tell you more of him presently.
+
+"Colonel Lionel Despard was dead. His son, Courtenay, was ignorant of
+all this, and was away in the North of England. There was Thornton, and
+I can't account for his inaction. He married Langhetti's daughter too.
+That is a mystery."
+
+"They are all false, Frank."
+
+Frank looked up with something like it smile.
+
+"No, not all; wait till you hear me through."
+
+Frank drew a long breath. "We got sick there, and Potts had us taken
+to the alms-house. There we all prayed for death, but only my father's
+prayer was heard. He died of a broken heart. The rest of us lived on.
+
+"Scarcely had my father been buried when Potts came to take us away. He
+insisted that we should leave the country, and offered to pay our way
+to America. We were all indifferent: we were paralyzed by grief. The
+alms-house was not a place that we could cling to, so we let ourselves
+drift, and allowed Potts to send us wherever he wished. We did not even
+hope for any thing better. We only hoped that somewhere or other we
+might all die. What else could we do? What else could I do? There was no
+friend to whom I could look: and if I ever thought of any thing, it
+was that America might possibly afford us a chance to get a living till
+death came.
+
+"So we allowed ourselves to be sent wherever Potts chose, since it could
+not possibly make things worse than they were. He availed himself of our
+stolid indifference, put us as passengers in the steerage on board of
+a crowded emigrant ship, the _Tecumseh_, and gave us for our provisions
+some mouldy bread.
+
+"We simply lived and suffered, and were all waiting for death, till one
+day an angel appeared who gave us a short respite, and saved us for a
+while from misery. This angel, Louis, was Paolo, the son of Langhetti.
+
+"You look amazed. It was certainly an amazing thing that he should be on
+board the same ship with us. He was in the cabin. He noticed our misery
+without knowing who we were. He came to give us pity and help us. When
+at last he found out our names he fell on our necks, kissed us, and wept
+aloud.
+
+"He gave up his room in the cabin to my mother and sister, and slept and
+lived with me. Most of all he cheered us by the lofty, spiritual words
+with which he bade us look with contempt upon the troubles of life and
+aspire after immortal happiness. Yes, Louis; Langhetti gave us peace.
+
+"There were six hundred passengers. The plague broke out among us. The
+deaths every day increased, and all were filled with despair. At last
+the sailors themselves began to die.
+
+"I believe there was only one in all that ship who preserved calm reason
+and stood without fear during those awful weeks. That one was Langhetti.
+He found the officers of the ship panic-stricken, so he took charge of
+the steerage, organized nurses, watched over every thing, encouraged
+every body, and labored night and day. In the midst of all I fell sick,
+and he nursed me back to life. Most of all, that man inspired fortitude
+by the hope that beamed in his eyes, and by the radiancy of his smile.
+'Never mind, Brandon,' said he as I lay, I thought doomed. 'Death is
+nothing. Life goes on. You will leave this pest-ship for a realm of
+light. Keep up your heart, my brother immortal, and praise God with your
+latest breath.'
+
+"I recovered, and then stood by his side as best I might. I found that
+he had never told my mother of my sickness. At last my mother and
+sister in the cabin fell sick. I heard of it some days after, and was
+prostrated again. I grew better after a time; but just as we reached
+quarantine, Langhetti, who had kept himself up thus far, gave out
+completely, and fell before the plague."
+
+"Did he die?" asked Louis, in a faltering voice.
+
+"Not on ship-board. He was carried ashore senseless. My mother and
+sister were very low, and were also carried on shore. I, though weak,
+was able to nurse them all. My mother died first."
+
+There was a long pause. At last Frank resumed:
+
+"My sister gradually recovered: and then, through grief and fatigue, I
+fell sick for the third time. I felt it coming on. My sister nursed me;
+for a time I thought I was going to die. 'Oh, Edith,' I said, 'when I
+die, devote your life while it lasts to Langhetti, whom God sent to us
+in our despair. Save his life even if you give up your own.'
+
+"After that I became delirious, and remained so for a long time. Weeks
+passed; and when at last I revived the plague was stayed, and but few
+sick were on the island. My case was a lingering one, for this was the
+third attack of the fever. Why I didn't die I can't understand. There
+was no attendance. All was confusion, horror, and death.
+
+"When I revived the first question was after Langhetti and Edith. No one
+knew any thing about them. In the confusion we had been separated, and
+Edith had died alone."
+
+"Who told you that she died?" asked Louis, with a troubled look.
+
+Frank looked at him with a face of horror.
+
+"Can you bear what I am going to say?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"When I was able to move about I went to see if any one could tell
+me about Edith and Langhetti. I heard an awful story; that the
+superintendent had gone mad and had been found trying to dig open a
+grave, saying that some one was _buried alive_. Who do you think? oh, my
+brother!"
+
+"Speak!"
+
+"Edith Brandon was the name he named."
+
+"Be calm, Frank: I made inquiries myself at the island registry-office.
+The clerk told me this story, but said that the woman who had charge of
+the dead asserted that the grave was opened, and it was ascertained that
+absolute death had taken place.
+
+"Alas!" said Frank, in a voice of despair, "I saw that woman--the keeper
+of the dead-house--the grave-digger's wife. She told me this story, but
+it was with a troubled eye. I swore vengeance on her unless she told me
+the truth. She was alarmed, and said she would reveal all she knew if I
+swore to keep it to myself. I swore it. Can you bear to hear it, Louis?"
+
+"Speak!"
+
+"She said only this: 'When the grave was opened it was found that Edith
+Brandon had not been dead when she was buried.'"
+
+Louis groaned, and, falling forward, buried his head in both his hands.
+
+It was a long time before either of them spoke. At last Louis, without
+lifting his head, said:
+
+"Go on."
+
+"When I left the island I went to Quebec, but could not stay there. It
+was too near the place of horror. I went up the river, working my way as
+a laborer, to Montreal. I then sought for work, and obtained employment
+as porter in a warehouse. What mattered it? What was rank or station to
+me? I only wanted to keep myself from starvation and get a bed to sleep
+on at night.
+
+"I had no hope or thought of any thing. The horrors through which I had
+passed were enough to fill my mind. Yet above them all one horror was
+predominant, and never through the days and nights that have since
+elapsed has my soul ceased to quiver at the echo of two terrible words
+which have never ceased to ring through my brain--'Buried alive!'
+
+"I lived on in Montreal, under an assumed name, as a common porter, and
+might have been living there yet; but one day as I came in I heard the
+name of 'Brandon.' Two of the clerks who were discussing the news in the
+morning paper happened to speak of an advertisement which had long been
+in the papers in all parts of Canada. It was for information about the
+Brandon family.
+
+"I read the notice. It seemed to me at first that Potts was still
+trying to get control of us, but a moment's reflection showed that to
+be improbable. Then the mention of 'the friends of the family' made me
+think of Langhetti. I concluded that he had escaped death and was trying
+to find me out.
+
+"I went to Toronto, and found that you had gone to New York. I had saved
+much of my wages, and was able to come here. I expected Langhetti, but
+found you."
+
+"Why did you not think that it might be me?"
+
+"Because I heard a threat of Potts about you, and took it for granted
+that he would succeed in carrying it out."
+
+"What was the threat?"
+
+"He found out somehow that my father had written a letter to you. I
+suppose they told him so at the village post-office. One day when he was
+in the room he said, with a laugh, alluding to the letter, 'I'll uncork
+that young Brandy-flask before long.'"
+
+"Well--the notice of my death appeared in the English papers."
+
+Frank looked earnestly at him.
+
+"And I accept it, and go under an assumed name."
+
+"So do I. It is better."
+
+"You thought Langhetti alive. Do you think he is?"
+
+"I do not think so now."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"The efforts which he made were enough to kill any man without the
+plague. He must have died."
+
+After hearing Frank's story Louis gave a full account of his own
+adventures, omitting, however, all mention of Beatrice. That was
+something for his own heart, and not for another's ear.
+
+"Have you the letter and MS.?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Let me read them."
+
+Louis took the treasures and handed them to Frank. He read them in
+silence.
+
+"Is Cato with you yet?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"It is well."
+
+"And now, Frank," said Louis, "you have something at last to live for."
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"Vengeance!" cried Louis, with burning eyes.
+
+"Vengeance!" repeated Frank, without emotion--"Vengeance! What is
+that to me? Do you hope to give peace to your own heart by inflicting
+suffering on our enemies? What can they possibly suffer that can atone
+for what they have inflicted? All that they can feel is as nothing
+compared with what we have felt. Vengeance!" he repeated, musingly; "and
+what sort of vengeance? Would you kill them? What would that effect?
+Would he be more miserable than he is? Or would you feel any greater
+happiness? Or do you mean something more far-reaching than death?"
+
+"Death," said Louis, "is nothing for such crimes as his."
+
+"You want to inflict suffering, then, and you ask me. Well, after all,
+do I want him to suffer? Do I care for this man's sufferings? What are
+they or what can they be to me? He stands on his own plane, far beneath
+me; he is a coarse animal, who can, perhaps, suffer from nothing but
+physical pain. Should I inflict that on him, what good would it be to
+me? And yet there is none other that I can inflict."
+
+"Langhetti must have transformed you," said Louis, "with his spiritual
+ideas."
+
+"Langhetti; or perhaps the fact that I three times gazed upon the face
+of death and stood upon the threshold of that place where dwells the
+Infinite Mystery. So when you speak of mere vengeance my heart does not
+respond. But there is still something which may make a purpose as strong
+as vengeance."
+
+"Name it."
+
+"The sense of intolerable wrong!" cried Frank, in vehement tones; "the
+presence of that foul pair in the home of our ancestors, our own exile,
+and all the sufferings of the past! Do you think that I can endure
+this?"
+
+"No--you must have vengeance."
+
+"No; not vengeance."
+
+"What then?"
+
+"Justice!" cried Frank, starting to his feet. "Justice--strict, stern,
+merciless; and that justice means to me all that you mean by vengeance.
+Let us make war against him from this time forth while life lasts; let
+us cast him out and get back our own; let us put him into the power of
+the law, and let that take satisfaction on him for his crimes; let us
+cast him out and fling him from us to that power which can fittingly
+condemn. I despise him, and despise his sufferings. His agony will give
+me no gratification. The anguish that a base nature can suffer is only
+disgusting to me--he suffers only out of his baseness. To me, and with a
+thing like that, vengeance is impossible, and justice is enough."
+
+"At any rate you will have a purpose, and your purpose points to the
+same result as mine."
+
+"But how is this possible?" said Frank. "He is strong, and we are weak.
+What can we do?"
+
+"We can try," said Louis. "You are ready to undertake any thing. You
+do not value your life. There is one thing which is before us. It is
+desperate--it is almost hopeless; but we are both ready to try it."
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"The message from the dead," said Louis, spreading before Frank that
+letter from the treasure-ship which he himself had so often read.
+
+"And are you going to try this?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"How?"
+
+"I don't know. I must first find out the resources of science."
+
+"Have you Cato yet?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Can he dive?"
+
+"He was brought up on the Malabar coast, among the pearl-fishers, and
+can remain under water for an incredible space of time. But I hope
+to find means which will enable me myself to go down under the ocean
+depths. This will be our object now. If it succeeds, then we can gain
+our purpose; if not, we must think of something else."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+
+THE DIVING BUSINESS.
+
+In a little street that runs from Broadway, not far from Wall Street,
+there was a low doorway with dingy panes of glass, over which was a sign
+which bore the following letters, somewhat faded:
+
+BROCKET & CO., CONTRACTORS
+
+About a month after his arrival at New York Brandon entered this place
+and walked up to the desk, where a stout, thick-set man was sitting,
+with his chin on his hands and his elbows on the desk before him.
+
+"Mr. Brocket?" said Brandon, inquiringly.
+
+"Yes, Sir," answered the other, descending from his stool and stepping
+forward toward Brandon, behind a low table which stood by the desk.
+
+"I am told that you undertake contracts for raising sunken vessels?"
+
+"We are in that line of business."
+
+"You have to make use of diving apparatus?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I understand that you have gone into this business to a larger extent
+than any one in America?"
+
+"Yes, Sir," said Brocket, modestly. "I think we do the leading business
+in that line."
+
+"I will tell you frankly my object in calling upon you. I have just come
+from the East Indies for the purpose of organizing a systematic plan for
+the pearl fisheries. You are aware that out there they still cling to
+the old fashion of diving, which was begun three thousand years ago. I
+wish to see if I can not bring science to bear upon it, so as to raise
+the pearl-oysters in larger quantities."
+
+"That's a good idea of yours," remarked Mr. Brocket, thoughtfully.
+
+"I came to you to see if you could inform me whether it would be
+practicable or not."
+
+"Perfectly so," said Brocket.
+
+"Do you work with the diving-bell in your business or with armor?"
+
+"With both. We use the diving-bell for stationary purposes; but when it
+is necessary to move about we employ armor."
+
+"Is the armor adapted to give a man any freedom of movement?"
+
+"The armor is far better than the bell. The armor is so perfect now
+that a practiced hand can move about under water with a freedom that is
+surprising. My men go down to examine sunken ships. They go in and out
+and all through them. Sometimes this is the most profitable part of our
+business."
+
+"Why so?"
+
+"Why, because there is often money or valuable articles on board, and
+these always are ours. See," said Brocket, opening a drawer and taking
+out some silver coin, "here is some money that we found in an old Dutch
+vessel that was sunk up the Hudson a hundred years ago. Our men walked
+about the bed of the river till they found her, and in her cabin they
+obtained a sum of money that would surprise you--all old coin."
+
+"An old Dutch vessel! Do you often find vessels that have been sunk so
+long ago?"
+
+"Not often. But we are always on the lookout for them," said Brocket,
+who had now grown quite communicative. "You see, those old ships always
+carried ready cash--they didn't use bank-notes and bills of exchange. So
+if you can only find one you're sure of money."
+
+"Then this would be a good thing to bear in mind in our pearl
+enterprise?"
+
+"Of course. I should think that out there some reefs must be full of
+sunken ships. They've been sinking about those coasts ever since the
+first ship was built."
+
+"How far down can a diver go in armor?
+
+"Oh, any reasonable depth, when the pressure of the water is not too
+great. Some pain in the ears is felt at first from the compressed air,
+but that is temporary. Men can easily go down as far as fifteen or
+sixteen fathoms."
+
+"How long can they stay down?"
+
+"In the bells, you know, they go down and are pulled up only in the
+middle of the day and at evening, when their work is done."
+
+"How with the men in armor?"
+
+"Oh, they can stand it almost as well. They come up oftener, though.
+There is one advantage in the armor: a man can fling off his weight and
+come up whenever he likes."
+
+"Have you ever been down yourself?"
+
+"Oh yes--oftener than any of my men. I'm the oldest diver in the
+country, I think. But I don't go down often now. It's hard work, and I'm
+getting old."
+
+"Is it much harder than other work?"
+
+"Well, you see, it's unnatural sort of work, and is hard on the lungs.
+Still, I always was healthy. The real reason why I stopped was a
+circumstance that happened two years ago."
+
+"What was that?"
+
+Brocket drew a long breath, looked for a moment meditatively at the
+floor, and then went on:
+
+"Well, there happened to be a wreck of a steamer called the _Saladin_
+down off the North Carolina coast, and I thought I would try her as a
+speculation, for I supposed that there might be considerable money on
+board one way or another. It was a very singular affair. Only two men
+had escaped; it was so sudden. They said the vessel struck a rock
+at night when the water was perfectly still, and went down in a few
+minutes, before the passengers could even be awakened. It may seem
+horrid to you, but you must know that a ship-load of passengers is very
+profitable, for they all carry money. Besides, there are their trunks,
+and the clerk's desk, and so on. So, this time, I went down myself. The
+ship lay on one side of the rock which had pierced her, having floated
+off just before sinking; and I had no difficulty in getting on board.
+After walking about the deck I went at once into the saloon. Sir," said
+Brocket, with an awful look at Brandon, "if I should live for a hundred
+years I should never forget the sight that I saw. A hundred passengers
+or more had been on board, and most of them had rushed out of their
+state-rooms as the vessel began to sink. Very many of them lay on the
+floor, a frightful multitude of dead.
+
+"But there were others," continued Brocket, in a lower tone, "who had
+clutched at pieces of furniture, at the doors, and at the chairs, and
+many of these had held on with such a rigid clutch that death itself had
+not unlocked it. Some were still upright, with distorted features, and
+staring eyes, clinging, with frantic faces, to the nearest object
+that they had seen. Several of them stood around the table. The most
+frightful thing was this: that they were all staring at the door.
+
+"But the worst one of all was a corpse that was on the saloon table.
+The wretch had leaped there in his first mad impulse, and his hands had
+clutched a brass bar that ran across. He was facing the door; his hands
+were still clinging, his eyes glared at me, his jaw had fallen, The
+hideous face seemed grimacing at and threatening me. As I entered the
+water was disturbed by my motion. An undulation set in movement by my
+entrance passed through the length of the saloon. All the corpses swayed
+for a moment. I stopped in horror. Scarcely had I stopped when the
+corpses, agitated by the motion of the water and swaying, lost their
+hold; their fingers slipped, and they fell forward simultaneously. Above
+all, that hideous figure on the table, as its fingers were loosened, in
+falling forward, seemed to take steps, with his demon face still staring
+at me. My blood ran cold. It seemed to me as though these devils were
+all rushing at me, led on by that fiend on the table. For the first time
+in my life, Sir, I felt fear under the sea. I started back, and rushed
+out quaking as though all hell was behind me. When I got up to the
+surface I could not speak. I instantly left the _Saladin_, came home
+with my men, and have never been down myself since."
+
+A long conversation followed about the general condition of sunken
+ships. Brocket had no fear of rivals in business, and as his
+interlocutor did not pretend to be one he was exceedingly communicative.
+He described to him the exact depth to which a diver in armor might
+safely go, the longest time that he could safely remain under water, the
+rate of travel in walking along a smooth bottom, and the distance which
+one could walk. He told him how to go on board of a wrecked ship with
+the least risk or difficulty, and the best mode by which to secure any
+valuables which he might find. At last he became so exceedingly
+friendly that Brandon asked him if he would be willing to give personal
+instructions to himself, hinting that money was no object, and that any
+price would be paid.
+
+At this Brocket laughed. "My dear Sir, you take my fancy, for I think
+I see in you a man of the right sort. I should be very glad to show any
+one like you how to go to work. Don't mention money; I have actually got
+more now than I know what to do with, and I'm thinking of founding an
+asylum for the poor. I'll sell you any number of suits of armor, if you
+want them, merely in the way of business; but if I give you instructions
+it will be merely because I like to oblige a man like you."
+
+Brandon of course expressed all the gratitude that so generous an offer
+could excite.
+
+"But there's no use trying just yet; wait till the month of May, and
+then you can begin. You have nerve, and I have no doubt that you'll
+learn fast."
+
+After this interview Brandon had many others. To give credibility to
+his pretended plan for the pearl fisheries, he bought a dozen suits
+of diving armor and various articles which Brocket assured him that
+he would need. He also brought Cato with him one day, and the Hindu
+described the plan which the pearl-divers pursued on the Malabar coast.
+According to Cato each diver had a stone which weighed about thirty
+pounds tied to his foot, and a sponge filled with oil fastened around
+his neck. On plunging into the water, the weight carried him down. When
+the diver reached the bottom the oiled sponge was used from time to time
+to enable him to breathe by inhaling the air through the sponge applied
+to his mouth. All this was new to Brocket. It excited his ardor.
+
+The month of May at last came. Brocket showed them a place in the
+Hudson, about twenty miles above the city, where they could practice.
+Under his direction Brandon put on the armor and went down. Frank worked
+the pumps which supplied him with air, and Cato managed the boat. The
+two Brandons learned their parts rapidly, and Louis, who had the hardest
+task, improved so quickly, and caught the idea of the work so readily,
+that Brocket enthusiastically assured him that he was a natural-born
+diver.
+
+All this time Brandon was quietly making arrangements for a voyage.
+He gradually obtained every thing which might by any possibility be
+required, and which he found out by long deliberations with Frank and by
+hints which he gained by well-managed questions to Brocket.
+
+Thus the months of May and June passed until at length they were ready
+to start.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+
+THE ISLET OF SANTA CRUZ.
+
+It was July when Brandon left New York for San Salvador.
+
+He had purchased a beautiful little schooner, which he had fitted up
+like a gentleman's yacht, and stored with all the articles which might
+be needed. In cruising about the Bahama Isles he intended to let it be
+supposed that he was traveling for pleasure. True, the month of July was
+not the time of the year which pleasure-seekers would choose for sailing
+in the West Indies, but of this he did not take much thought.
+
+The way to the Bahama Isles was easy. They stopped for a while at
+Nassau, and then went to San Salvador.
+
+The first part of the New World which Columbus discovered is now but
+seldom visited, and few inhabitants are found there. Only six hundred
+people dwell upon it, and these have in general but little intelligence.
+On reaching this place Brandon sailed to the harbor which Columbus
+entered, and made many inquiries about that immortal landing. Traditions
+still survived among the people, and all were glad to show the rich
+Englishman the lions of the place.
+
+He was thus enabled to make inquiries without exciting suspicion about
+the islands lying to the north. He was informed that about four leagues
+north there was an island named Guahi, and as there was no island known
+in that direction named Santa Cruz, Brandon thought that this might
+be the one. He asked if there were any small islets or sand-banks near
+there, but no one could tell him. Having gained all the information that
+he could he pursued his voyage.
+
+In that hot season there was but little wind. The seas were visited by
+profound calms which continued long and rendered navigation slow and
+tedious. Sometimes, to prevent themselves from being swept away by the
+currents, they had to cast anchor. At other times they were forced to
+keep in close by the shore. They waited till the night came on, and
+then, putting out the sweeps, they rowed the yacht slowly along.
+
+It was the middle of July before they reached the island of Guahi, which
+Brandon thought might be Santa Cruz. If so, then one league due north
+of this there ought to be the islet of the Three Needles. Upon the
+discovery of that would depend their fate.
+
+It was evening when they reached the southern shore of Guahi. Now was
+the time when all the future depended upon the fact of the existence of
+an islet to the north. That night on the south shore was passed in deep
+anxiety. They rowed the vessel on with their sweeps, but the island was
+too large to be passed in one night. Morning came, and still they rowed.
+
+The morning passed, and the hot sun burned down upon them, yet they
+still toiled on, seeking to pass beyond a point which lay ahead, so as
+to see the open water to the north. Gradually they neared it, and the
+sea-view in front opened up more and more widely. There was nothing but
+water. More and more of the view exposed itself, until at last the whole
+horizon was visible. Yet there was no land there--no island--no sign of
+those three rocks which they longed so much to find.
+
+A light wind arose which enabled them to sail over all the space that
+lay one league to the north. They sounded as they went, but found
+only deep water. They looked all around, but found not so much as the
+smallest point of land above the surface of the ocean.
+
+That evening they cast anchor and went ashore at the island of Guahi
+to see if any one knew of other islands among which might be found one
+named Santa Cruz. Their disappointment was profound. Brandon for a while
+thought that perhaps some other San Salvador was meant in the letter.
+This very idea had occurred to him before, and he had made himself
+acquainted with all the places of that name that existed. None of them
+seemed, however, to answer the requirements of the writing. Some must
+have gained the name since; others were so situated that no island could
+be mentioned as lying to the north. On the whole, it seemed to him that
+this San Salvador of Columbus could alone be mentioned. It was
+alluded to as a well-known place, of which particular description was
+unnecessary, and no other place at that day had this character except
+the one on which he had decided.
+
+One hope yet remained, a faint one, but still a hope, and this might yet
+be realized. It was that Guahi was not Santa Cruz; but that some other
+island lay about here, which might be considered as north from San
+Salvador. This could be ascertained here in Guahi better perhaps than
+any where else. With this faint hope he landed.
+
+Guahi is only a small island, and there are but few inhabitants upon
+it, who support themselves partly by fishing. In this delightful climate
+their wants are not numerous, and the rich soil produces almost any
+thing which they desire. The fish about here are not plentiful, and what
+they catch have to be sought for at a long distance off.
+
+"Are there any other islands near this?" asked Brandon of some people
+whom he met on landing.
+
+"Not very near."
+
+"Which is the nearest?"
+
+"San Salvador."
+
+"Are there any others in about this latitude?"
+
+"Well, there is a small one about twelve leagues east. There are no
+people on it though."
+
+"What is its name?"
+
+"Santa Cruz."
+
+Brandon's heart beat fast at the sound of that name. It must be so. It
+must be the island which he sought. It lay to the north of San Salvador,
+and its name was Santa Cruz.
+
+"It is not down on the charts?"
+
+"No. It is only a small islet."
+
+Another confirmation, for the message said plainly an islet, whereas
+Guahi was an island.
+
+"How large is it?"
+
+"Oh, perhaps a mile or a mile and a half long."
+
+"Is there any other island near it?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Have you ever been there?"
+
+"No."
+
+Plainly no further information could be gathered here. It was enough
+to have hope strengthened and an additional chance for success. Brandon
+obtained as near as possible the exact direction of Santa Cruz, and,
+going back to the yacht, took advantage of the light breeze which still
+was blowing and set sail.
+
+[Illustration: "AN ISLAND COVERED WITH PALM-TREES LAY THERE."]
+
+Night came on very dark, but the breeze still continued to send its
+light breath, and before this the vessel gently glided on. Not a thing
+could be seen in that intense darkness. Toward morning Louis Brandon,
+who had remained up all night in his deep anxiety, tried to pierce
+through the gloom as he strained his eyes, and seemed as though he would
+force the darkness to reveal that which he sought. But the darkness gave
+no token.
+
+Not Columbus himself, when looking out over these waters, gazed with
+greater eagerness nor did his heart beat with greater anxiety of
+suspense, than that which Brandon felt as his vessel glided slowly
+through the dark waters, the same over which Columbus had passed, and
+moved amidst the impenetrable gloom. But the long night of suspense
+glided by at last; the darkness faded, and the dawn came.
+
+Frank Brandon, on waking about sunrise, came up and saw his brother
+looking with fixed intensity of gaze at something directly in front. He
+turned to see what it might be.
+
+An island covered with palm-trees lay there. Its extent was small, but
+it was filled with the rich verdure of the tropics. The gentle breeze
+ruffled the waters, but did not altogether efface the reflection of that
+beautiful islet.
+
+Louis pointed toward the northeast.
+
+Frank looked.
+
+It seemed to be about two miles away. It was a low sand island about a
+quarter of a mile long. From its surface projected three rocks thin and
+sharp. They were at unequal distances from each other, and in the middle
+of the islet. The tallest one might have been about twelve feet in
+height, the others eight and ten feet respectively.
+
+Louis and Frank exchanged one long look, but said not a word. That look
+was an eloquent one.
+
+This then was unmistakably the place of their search.
+
+The islet with the three rocks like needles lying north of Santa Cruz.
+One league due north of this was the spot where now rested all their
+hopes.
+
+The island of Santa Cruz was, as had been told them, not more than a
+mile and a half in length, the sand island with the needles lay about
+two miles north of it. On the side of Santa Cruz which lay nearest to
+them was a small cove just large enough for the yacht. Here, after some
+delay, they were able to enter and land.
+
+The tall trees that covered the island rose over beautiful glades and
+grassy slopes. Too small and too remote to give support to any number
+of inhabitants, it had never been touched by the hand of man, but stood
+before them in all that pristine beauty with which nature had first
+endowed it. It reminded Brandon in some degree of that African island
+where he had passed some time with Beatrice. The recollection of this
+brought over him an intolerable melancholy, and made the very beauty of
+this island painful to him. Yet hope was now strong within his heart,
+and as he traversed its extent his eye wandered about in search of
+places where he might be able to conceal the treasure that lay under
+the sea, if he were ever able to recover it from its present place. The
+island afforded many spots which were well adapted to such a purpose.
+
+In the centre of the island a rock jutted up, which was bald and flat on
+its summit. On the western side it showed a precipice of some forty or
+fifty feet in height, and on the eastern side it descended to the water
+in a steep slope. The tall trees which grew all around shrouded it from
+the view of those at sea, but allowed the sea to be visible on every
+side. Climbing to this place, they saw something which showed them that
+they could not hope to carry on any operations for that day.
+
+On the other side of the island, about ten miles from the shore, there
+lay a large brig becalmed. It looked like one of those vessels that are
+in the trade between the United States and the West Indies. As long
+as that vessel was in the neighborhood it would not do even to make
+a beginning, nor did Brandon care about letting his yacht be seen.
+Whatever he did he wished to do secretly.
+
+The brig continued in sight all day, and they remained on the island.
+Toward evening they took the small boat and rowed out to the sandbank
+which they called Needle Islet. It was merely a low spit of sand, with
+these three singularly-shaped rocks projecting upward. There was nothing
+else whatever to be seen upon it. The moon came up as they stood there,
+and their eyes wandered involuntarily to the north, to that place, a
+league away, where the treasure lay beneath the waters.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+
+THE OCEAN DEPTHS.
+
+The next morning dawned and Brandon hurried to the rock and looked
+around. During the night a slight wind had sprung up, and was still
+gently breathing. Far over the wide sea there was not a sail to be seen.
+The brig had passed away. They were finally left to themselves.
+
+Now at last the time of trial had come. They were eager to make the
+attempt, and soon the yacht was unmoored, and moved slowly out to sea in
+the direction of Needle Island. A light breeze still blew fitfully, but
+promised at any moment to stop; yet while it lasted they passed onward
+under its gentle impulse, and so gradually reached Needle Island, and
+went on into the sea beyond.
+
+Before they had come to the spot which they wished to attain the breeze
+had died out, and they were compelled to take to the oars. Although
+early in the morning the sun was burning hot, the work was laborious,
+and the progress was slow. Yet not a murmur was heard, nor did a single
+thought of fatigue enter the minds of any of them. One idea only was
+present--one so overwhelming that all lesser thoughts and all ordinary
+feelings were completely obliterated. After two hours of steady labor
+they at last reached a place which seemed to them to be exactly one
+league due north of Needle Islet. Looking back they saw that the rocks
+on the island seemed from this distance closer together, and thinner
+and sharper, so that they actually bore a greater resemblance to needles
+from this point than to any thing else.
+
+Here they sounded. The water was fifteen fathoms deep--not so great a
+depth as they had feared. Then they put down the anchor, for although
+there was no wind, yet the yacht might be caught in some current, and
+drift gradually away from the right position.
+
+The small boat had all this time been floating astern with the pumping
+apparatus in it, so that the adventurous diver might readily be
+accompanied in his search and his wanderings at the bottom of the sea.
+
+But there was the prospect that this search would be long and arduous,
+and Brandon was not willing to exhaust himself too soon. He had already
+resolved that the first exploration should be made by Asgeelo. The Hindu
+had followed Brandon in all his wanderings with that silent submission
+and perfect devotion which is more common among Hindus than any other
+people. He had the air of one who was satisfied with obeying his master,
+and did not ask the end of any commands which might be given. He was
+aware that they were about to explore the ocean depths, but showed no
+curiosity about the object of their search. It was Brandon's purpose to
+send him down first at different points, so that he might see if there
+was any thing there which looked like what they sought.
+
+Asgeelo--or Cato, as Brandon commonly called him--had made those simple
+preparations which are common among his class--the apparatus which the
+pearl-divers have used ever since pearl-diving first commenced. Twelve
+or fifteen stones were in the boat, a flask of oil, and a sponge which
+was fastened around his neck. These were all that he required. Each
+stone weighed about thirty pounds. One of these he tied around one foot;
+he saturated the sponge with oil, so as to use it to inhale air beneath
+the water; and then, standing on the edge of the boat and flinging his
+arms straight up over his head, he leaped into the water and went down
+feet foremost.
+
+Over the smooth water the ripples flowed from the spot where Asgeelo had
+disappeared, extending in successive concentric circles, and radiating
+in long undulations far and wide. Louis and Frank waited in deep
+suspense. Asgeelo remained long beneath the water, but to them the time
+seemed frightful in its duration. Profound anxiety began to mingle with
+the suspense, for fear lest the faithful servant in his devotion
+had over-rated his powers--lest the disuse of his early practice had
+weakened his skill--lest the weight bound to his foot had dragged him
+down and kept him there forever.
+
+At last, when the suspense had become intolerable and the two had
+already begun to exchange glances almost of despair, a plash was heard,
+and Asgeelo emerged far to the right. He struck out strongly toward the
+boat, which was at once rowed toward him. In a few minutes he was taken
+in. He did not appear to be much exhausted.
+
+He had seen nothing.
+
+[Illustration: "A dark, sinewy arm emerged from beneath, armed with a
+long, keen knife."]
+
+They then rowed about a hundred yards further, and Asgeelo prepared to
+descend once more. He squeezed the oil out of the sponge and renewed it
+again. But this time he took a knife in his hand.
+
+"What is that for?" asked Frank and Louis.
+
+"Sharks!" answered Cato, in a terrible tone.
+
+At this Louis and Frank exchanged glances. Could they let this devoted
+servant thus tempt so terrible a death?
+
+"Did you see any sharks?" asked Louis.
+
+"No, Sahib."
+
+"Why do you fear them, then?"
+
+"I don't fear them, Sahib."
+
+"Why do you take this knife?"
+
+"One may come, Sahib."
+
+After some hesitation Asgeelo was allowed to go. As before he plunged
+into the water, and remained underneath quite as long; but now they
+had become familiarized with his powers and the suspense was not so
+dreadful. At the expiration of the usual time he reappeared, and on
+being taken into the boat he again announced that he had seen nothing.
+
+They now rowed a hundred yards farther on in the same direction, toward
+the east, and Asgeelo made another descent. He came back with the same
+result.
+
+It began to grow discouraging, but Asgeelo was not yet fatigued, and
+they therefore determined to let him work as long as he was able. He
+went down seven times more. They still kept the boat on toward the east
+till the line of "needles" on the sand island had become thrown
+farther apart and stood at long distances. Asgeelo came up each time
+unsuccessful.
+
+He at last went down for the eleventh time. They were talking as usual,
+not expecting that he would reappear for some minutes, when suddenly a
+shout was heard, and Asgeelo's head emerged from the water not more than
+twenty yards from the boat. He was swimming with one hand, and in the
+other he held an uplifted knife, which he occasionally brandished in the
+air and splashed in the water.
+
+Immediately the cause of this became manifest. Just behind him a sharp
+black fin appeared cutting the surface of the water.
+
+It was a shark! But the monster, a coward like all his tribe, deterred
+by the plashing of the water made by Asgeelo, circled round him and
+hesitated to seize his prey. The moment was frightful. Yet Asgeelo
+appeared not in the least alarmed. He swam slowly, occasionally turning
+his head and watching the monster, seeming by his easy dexterity to be
+almost as much in his native element as his pursuer, keeping his eyes
+fixed on him and holding his knife in a firm clasp. The knife was a
+long, keen blade, which Asgeelo had carried with him for years.
+
+Louis and Frank could do nothing. A pistol ball could not reach this
+monster, who kept himself under the water, where a ball would be spent
+before striking him, if indeed any aim could direct a bullet toward that
+swift darting figure. They had nothing to do but to look on in an agony
+of horror.
+
+Asgeelo, compelled to watch, to guard, to splash the water, and to
+turn frequently, made but a slow passage over those twenty yards which
+separated him from the boat. At last it seemed as if he chose to stay
+there. It seemed to those who watched him with such awful horror that
+he might have escaped had he chosen, but that he had some idea of
+voluntarily encountering the monster. This became evident at last, as
+the shark passed before him when they saw Asgeelo's face turned toward
+it; a face full of fierce hate and vengeance; a face such as one turns
+toward some mortal enemy.
+
+He made a quick, fierce stroke with his long knife. The shark gave a
+leap upward. The water was tinged with blood. The next moment Asgeelo
+went down.
+
+"What now?" was the thought of the brothers. Had he been dragged down?
+Impossible! And yet it seemed equally impossible that he could have gone
+down of his own accord.
+
+In a moment their suspense was ended. A white flash appeared near the
+surface. The next instant a dark, sinewy arm emerged from beneath, armed
+with a long, keen knife, which seemed to tear down with one tremendous
+stroke that white, shining surface.
+
+It was Asgeelo's head that emerged in a sea of blood and foam. Triumph
+was in his dark face, as with one hand he waved his knife exultantly.
+
+A few moments afterward the form of a gigantic shark floated upward to
+the surface, dyeing the sea with the blood which had issued from the
+stroke dealt by Asgeelo. Not yet, however, was the vindictive fury of
+the Hindu satiated. He swam up to it. He dashed his knife over and over
+the white belly till it became a hideous mass of gaping entrails. Then
+he came into the boat.
+
+He sat down, a hideous figure. Blood covered his tawny face, and the
+fury of his rage had not left the features.
+
+The strength which this man had shown was tremendous, yet his quickness
+and agility even in the water had been commensurate with his strength.
+Brandon had once seen proofs of his courage in the dead bodies of
+the Malay pirates which lay around him in the cabin of that ill-fated
+Chinese ship: but all that he had done then was not to be compared to
+this.
+
+They could not help asking him why he had not at once made his escape to
+the boar, instead of staying to fight the monster.
+
+Asgeelo's look was as gloomy as death as he replied,
+
+"They tore in pieces my son, Sahib--my only son--when he first went
+down, and I have to avenge him. I killed a hundred on the Malabar coast
+before I left it forever. That shark did not attack me; I attacked him."
+
+"If you saw one now would you attack him?"
+
+"Yes, Sahib."
+
+Brandon expressed some apprehension, and wished him not to risk his
+life.
+
+But Asgeelo explained that a shark could be successfully encountered by
+a skillful swimmer. The shark is long, and has to move about in a circle
+which is comparatively large; he is also a coward, and a good swimmer
+can strike him if he only chooses. He again repeated triumphantly that
+he had killed more than a hundred to avenge his son.
+
+In his last venture Asgeelo had been no more successful than before.
+Needle Island was now to the southwest, and Brandon thought that their
+only chance was to try farther over toward the west, where they had not
+yet explored.
+
+They rowed at once back to the point from which they had set out, and
+then went on about a hundred and fifty yards to the west. From this
+place, as they looked toward the islet, the three rocks seemed so close
+together that they appeared blended, and the three sharp, needlelike
+points appeared to issue from one common base. This circumstance had
+an encouraging effect, for it seemed to the brothers as though their
+ancestor might have looked upon those rocks from this point of view
+rather than from any other which had as yet come upon the field of their
+observation.
+
+This time Brandon himself resolved to go down; partly because he thought
+that Asgeelo had worked long enough, and ought not to be exhausted on
+that first day, and partly on account of an intolerable impatience, and
+an eagerness to see for himself rather than intrust it to others.
+
+There was the horror of the shark, which might have deterred any other
+man. It was a danger which he had never taken into account. But the
+resolve of his soul was stronger than any fear, and he determined to
+face even this danger. If he lost his life, he was indifferent. Let
+it go! Life was not so precious to him as to some others. Fearless by
+nature, he was ordinarily ready to run risks; but now the thing that
+drew him onward was so vast in its importance that he was willing to
+encounter peril of any kind.
+
+Frank was aware of the full extent of this new danger, but he said
+nothing, nor did he attempt in any way to dissuade his brother. He
+himself, had he been able, would have gone down in his place; but as he
+was not able, he did not suppose that his brother would hesitate.
+
+The apparatus was in the boat. The pumping-machine was in the stern;
+and this, with the various signal-ropes, was managed by Frank. Asgeelo
+rowed. These arrangements had long since been made, and they had
+practiced in this way on the Hudson River.
+
+Silently Brandon put on his diving armor. The ropes and tubes were all
+carefully arranged. The usual weight was attached to his belt, and he
+was slowly lowered down to the bottom of the sea.
+
+The bottom of the ocean was composed of a smooth, even surface of fine
+sand and gravel, along which Brandon moved without difficulty. The
+cumbrous armor of the diver, which on land is so heavy, beneath the
+water loses its excessive weight, and by steadying the wearer assists
+him to walk. The water was marvelously transparent, as is usually the
+case in the southern seas, and through the glass plate in his helmet
+Brandon could look forward to a greater distance than was possible in
+the Hudson.
+
+Overhead he could see the bottom of the boat, as it floated and moved on
+in the direction which he wished: signals, which were communicated by
+a rope which he held in his hand, told them whether to go forward or
+backward, to the right or to the left, or to stop altogether. Practice
+had enabled him to command, and them to obey, with ease.
+
+Down in the depths to which he had descended the water was always still,
+and the storms that affected the surface never penetrated there. Brandon
+learned this from the delicate shells and the still more delicate forms
+of marine plants which lay at his feet, so fragile in their structure,
+and so delicately poised in their position, that they must have formed
+themselves in deep, dead stillness and absolute motionlessness of
+waters. The very movement which was caused by his passage displaced them
+in all directions, and cast them down every where in ruins. Here, in
+such depths as these, if the sounding lead is cast it brings up these
+fragile shells, and shows to the observer what profound calm must exist
+here, far away beneath the ordinary vision of man.
+
+Practice had enabled Brandon to move with much ease. His breathing
+was without difficulty. The first troubles arising from breathing this
+confined air had long since been surmounted. One tube ran down from the
+boat, through which the fresh air was pushed, and another tube ran up
+a little distance, through which the air passed and left it in myriad
+bubbles that ascended to the surface.
+
+He walked on, and soon came to a place where things changed their
+appearance. Hard sand was here, and on every side there arose
+curiously-shaped coral structures, which resembled more than any thing
+else a leafless forest. These coral tree-like forms twisted their
+branches in strange involutions, and in some places formed a perfect
+barrier of interlaced arms, so that he was forced to make a detour in
+order to avoid them. The chief fear here was that his tube might get
+entangled among some of the loftier straggling branches, and impede or
+retard his progress. To avoid this caused much delay.
+
+Now, among the coral rocks, the vegetation of the lower sea began to
+appear of more vivid colors and of far greater variety than any which he
+had ever seen. Here were long plants which clung to the coral like ivy,
+seeming to be a species of marine parasite, and as it grew it throve
+more luxuriantly. Here were some which threw out long arms, terminating
+in vast, broad, palm-like leaves, the arms intertwined among the coral
+branches and the leaves hanging downward. Here were long streamers of
+fine, silk-like strings, that were suspended from many a projecting
+branch, and hillocks of spongy substance that looked like moss.
+Here, too, were plants which threw forth long, ribbon-like leaves of
+variegated color.
+
+It was a forest under the sea, and it grew denser at every step.
+
+At last his progress in this direction was terminated by a rock which
+came from a southerly direction, like a spur from the islands. It arose
+to a height of about thirty feet overhead, and descended gradually as it
+ran north. Brandon turned aside, and walked by its base along its entire
+extent.
+
+At its termination there arose a long vista, where the ground ascended
+and an opening appeared through this marine "forest." On each side the
+involuted corals flung their twisted arms in more curious and intricate
+folds. The vegetation was denser, more luxuriant, and more varied.
+Beneath him was a growth of tender substance, hairy in texture, and of
+a delicate green color, which looked more like lawn grass of the upper
+world than any thing else in nature.
+
+Brandon walked on, and even in the intense desire of his soul to find
+what he sought he felt himself overcome by the sublime influence of
+this submarine world. He seemed to have intruded into some other sphere,
+planting his rash footsteps where no foot of man had trodden before, and
+using the resources of science to violate the hallowed secrecy of awful
+nature in her most hidden retreats. Here, above all things, his soul was
+oppressed by the universal silence around. Through that thick helmet,
+indeed, no sound under a clap of thunder could be heard, and the ringing
+of his ears would of itself have prevented consciousness of any other
+noise, yet none the less was he aware of the awful stillness; it was
+silence that could be felt. In the sublimity of that lonely pathway
+he felt what Hercules is imagined to have felt when passing to the
+underworld after Cerberus,
+
+  Stupent ubi undae segne torpescit fretum,
+
+and half expected to hear some voice from the dweller in this place:
+
+  "Quo pergis audax? Siste proserentem gradum."
+
+There came to him only such dwellers as belonged to the place. He
+saw them as he moved along. He saw them darting out from the hidden
+penetralia around, moving swiftly across and sometimes darting in shoals
+before him. They began to appear in such vast numbers that Brandon
+thought of the monster which lay a mangled heap upon the surface above,
+and fancied that perhaps his kindred were waiting to avenge his death.
+As this fear came full and well defined before him he drew from his belt
+the knife which Asgeelo had given him, and Frank had urged him to take,
+feeling himself less helpless if he held this in his hand.
+
+The fishes moved about him, coming on in new and more startled crowds,
+some dashing past, others darting upward, and others moving swiftly
+ahead. One large one was there with a train of followers, which moved
+up and floated for a moment directly in front of him, its large, staring
+eyes seeming to view him in wonder, and solemnly working its gills. But
+as Brandon came close it gave a sudden turn and darted off with all its
+attendants.
+
+At last, amidst all these wonders, he saw far ahead something which
+drove all other thoughts away, whether of fear, or of danger, or of
+horror, and filled all his soul with an overmastering passion of desire
+and hope.
+
+It was a dark object, too remote as yet to be distinctly visible, yet as
+it rose there his fancy seemed to trace the outline of a ship, or what
+might once have been a ship. The presentation of his hope before him
+thus in what seemed like a reality was too much. He stood still, and his
+heart beat with fierce throbs.
+
+The hope was so precious that for a time he hesitated to advance, for
+fear lest the hope might be dispelled forever. And then to fail at this
+place, after so long a search, when he seemed to have reached the end,
+would be an intolerable grief.
+
+There, too, was that strange pathway which seemed made on purpose. How
+came it there? He thought that perhaps the object lying before him might
+have caused some current which set in there and prevented the growth of
+plants in that place. These and many other thoughts came to him as he
+stood, unwilling to move.
+
+But at last he conquered his feelings, and advanced. Hope grew strong
+within him. He thought of the time on Coffin Island when, in like
+manner, he had hesitated before a like object.
+
+Might not this, like that, turn out to be a ship? And now, by a strange
+revulsion, all his feelings urged him on; hope was strong, suspense
+unendurable. Whatever that object was, he must know.
+
+It might indeed be a rock. He had passed one shortly before, which
+had gradually declined into the bottom of the sea; this might be a
+continuation of the same, which after an interval had arisen again from
+the bottom. It was long and high at one end, and rounded forward at the
+other. Such a shape was perfectly natural for a rock. He tried to crush
+down hope, so as to be prepared for disappointment. He tried to convince
+himself that it must be a rock, and could by no possibility be any
+thing else. Yet his efforts were totally fruitless. Still the conviction
+remained that it was a ship, and if so, it could be no other than the
+one he sought.
+
+As he went on all the marine vegetation ceased. The coral rocks
+continued no further. Now all around the bottom of the sea was flat, and
+covered with fine gravel, like that which he had touched when he first
+came down. The fishes had departed. The sense of solemnity left him;
+only one thing was perceptible, and that was the object toward which he
+walked. And now he felt within him such an uncontrollable impulse that
+even if he had wished he could neither have paused nor gone back. To
+go forward was only possible. It seemed to him as though some external
+influence had penetrated his body, and forced him to move. Again,
+as once before, he recalled the last words of his father, so well
+remembered: --"If in that other world to which I am going the
+disembodied spirit can assist man, then be sure, oh my son, I will
+assist you, and in the crisis of your fate I will be near, if it is only
+to communicate to your spirit what you ought to do--"
+
+It was Ralph Brandon who had said this. Here in this object which
+lay before him, if it were indeed the ship, he imagined the spirit of
+another Ralph Brandon present, awaiting him.
+
+Suddenly a dark shadow passed over his head, which forced him
+involuntarily to look up. In spite of his excitement a shudder passed
+through him. Far overhead, at the surface of the sea the boat was
+floating. But half-way up were three dark objects moving slowly and
+lazily along. They were sharks.
+
+To him, in his loneliness and weakness, nothing ever seemed so menacing
+as these three demons of the deep as he stared up at them. Had they seen
+him? that was now his thought. He clutched his knife in a firmer hold,
+feeling all the while how utterly helpless he was, and shrinking away
+into himself from the terror above. The monsters moved leisurely
+about, at one time grazing the tube, and sending down a vibration which
+thrilled like an electric shock through him. For a moment he thought
+that they were malignantly tormenting him, and had done this on purpose
+in order to send down to him a message of his fate.
+
+He waited.
+
+The time seemed endless. Yet at last the end came. The sharks could
+not have seen him, for they gradually moved away until they were out of
+sight.
+
+Brandon did not dare to advance for some time. Yet now, since the spell
+of this presence was removed, his horror left him, and his former hope
+animated all his soul.
+
+There lay that object before him. Could he advance again after that
+warning? Dared he? This new realm into which he had ventured had
+indeed those who were ready and able to inflict a sudden and frightful
+vengeance upon the rash intruder. He had passed safely among the horrors
+of the coral forest; but here, on this plateau, could he hope to be so
+safe? Might not the slightest movement on his part create a disturbance
+of water sufficient to awaken the attention of those departed enemies
+and bring them back?
+
+This was his fear. But hope, and a resolute will, and a determination
+to risk all on this last hazard, alike impelled him on. Danger now lay
+every where, above as well as below. An advance was not more perilous
+than an ascent to the boat. Taking comfort from this last thought he
+moved onward with a steady, determined step.
+
+Hope grew stronger as he drew nearer. The dark mass gradually formed
+itself into a more distinct outline. The uncertain lines defined into
+more certain shape, and the resemblance to a ship became greater and
+greater. He could no longer resist the conviction that this must be a
+ship.
+
+Still he tried feebly to prepare for disappointment, and made faint
+fancies as to the reason why a rock should be formed here in this shape.
+All the time he scouted those fancies and felt assured that it was not a
+rock.
+
+Nearer and nearer. Doubt no longer remained. He stood close beside it.
+It was indeed a ship! Its sides rose high over head. Its lofty stern
+stood up like a tower, after the fashion of a ship of the days of Queen
+Elizabeth. The masts had fallen and lay, encumbered with the rigging,
+over the side.
+
+Brandon walked all around it, his heart beating fast, seeing at every
+step some new proof that this must be no other, by any conceivable
+possibility, than the one which he sought. On reaching the bows he saw
+the outline of a bird carved for the figure-head, and knew that this
+must be the _Phoenix_.
+
+He walked around. The bottom was sandy and the ship had settled down
+to some depth. Her sides were covered with fine dark shells, like an
+incrustation, to a depth of an inch, mingled with a short growth of a
+green, slimy sea-weed.
+
+At last he could delay no longer. One of the masts lay over the side,
+and this afforded an easy way by which he could clamber upward upon the
+deck.
+
+In a few moments Brandon stood upon the deck of the _Phoenix_.
+
+The ship which had thus lain here through centuries, saturated with
+water that had penetrated to its inmost fibre, still held together
+sturdily. Beneath the sea the water itself had acted as a preservative,
+and retarded or prevented decay. Brandon looked around as he stood
+there, and the light that came from above, where the surface of the sea
+was now much nearer than before, showed him all the extent of the ship.
+
+The beams which supported the deck had lost their stiffness and sunk
+downward; the masts, as before stated, had toppled over for the same
+reason, yielding to their own weight, which, as the vessel was slightly
+on one side, had gradually borne them down; the bowsprit also had
+fallen. The hatchways had yielded, and, giving way, had sunk down within
+the hold. The doors which led into the cabin in the lofty poop were
+lying prostrate on the deck. The large sky-light which once had stood
+there had also followed the same fate.
+
+[Illustration: "THE MASTS HAD FALLEN AND LAY, ENCUMBERED WITH THE
+RIGGING, OVER THE SIDE."]
+
+Before going down Brandon had arranged a signal to send to Frank in case
+he found the ship. In his excitement he had not yet given it. Before
+venturing further he thought of this. But he decided not to make the
+signal. The idea came, and was rejected amidst a world of varying hopes
+and fears. He thought that if he was successful he himself would be the
+best messenger of success; and, if not, he would be the best messenger
+of evil.
+
+He advanced toward the cabin. Turning away from the door he clambered
+upon the poop, and, looking down, tried to see what depth there might
+be beneath. He saw something which looked as though it had once been a
+table. Slowly and cautiously he let himself down through the opening,
+and his feet touched bottom. He moved downward, and let his feet slide
+till they touched the floor.
+
+He was within the cabin.
+
+The light here was almost equal to that with-out, for the sky-light was
+very wide. The floor was sunken in like the deck of the ship. He looked
+around to see where he might first search for the treasure. Suddenly his
+eye caught sight of something which drove away every other thought.
+
+At one end was a seat, and there, propped up against the wall, was
+a skeleton in a sitting posture. Around it was a belt with a sword
+attached. The figure had partly twisted itself round, but its bead and
+shoulders were so propped up against the wall that it could not fall.
+
+Brandon advanced, filled with a thousand emotions. One hand was lying
+down in front. He lifted it. There was a gold ring on the bony finger.
+He took it off. In the dim light he saw, cut in bold relief on this
+seal-ring, the crest of his family--a Phoenix.
+
+It was his ancestor himself who was before him.
+
+Here he had calmly taken his seat when the ship was settling slowly down
+into the embrace of the waters. Here he had taken his seat, calmly and
+sternly, awaiting his death--perhaps with a feeling of grim triumph that
+he could thus elude his foes. This was the man, and this the hand, which
+had written the message that had drawn the descendant here.
+
+Such were the thoughts that passed through Brandon's mind. He put the
+ring on his own finger and turned away. His ancestor had summoned him
+hither, and here he was. Where was the treasure that was promised?
+
+Brandon's impatience now rose to a fever. Only one thought filled his
+mind. All around the cabin were little rooms, into each of which he
+looked. The doors had all fallen away. Yet he saw nothing in any of
+them.
+
+He stood for a moment in deep doubt. Where could he look? Could he
+venture down into the dark hold and explore? How could he hope to find
+any thing there, amidst the ruins of that interior where guns and chains
+lay, perhaps all mingled together where they had fallen? It would need
+a longer time to find it than he had at first supposed. Yet would he
+falter? No! Rather than give up he would pass years here, till he had
+dismembered the whole ship and strewn every particle of her piecemeal
+over the bottom of the sea. Yet he had hoped to solve the whole mystery
+at the first visit; and now, since he saw no sign of any thing like
+treasure, he was for a while at a loss what to do.
+
+His ancestor had summoned him, and he had come. Where was the treasure?
+Where? Why could not that figure arise and show him?
+
+Such were his thoughts. Yet these thoughts, the result of excitement
+that was now a frenzy, soon gave rise to others that were calmer.
+
+He reflected that perhaps some other feeling than what he had at first
+imagined might have inspired that grim old Englishman when he took his
+seat there and chose to drown on that seat rather than move away. Some
+other feeling, and what feeling? Some feeling which must have been the
+strongest in his heart. What was that? The one which had inspired the
+message, the desire to secure still more that treasure for which he had
+toiled and fought. His last act was to send the message, why should he
+not have still borne that thought in his mind and carried it till he
+died?
+
+The skeleton was at one end, supported by the wall. Two posts projected
+on each side. A heavy oaken chair stood there, which had once perhaps
+been fastened to the floor. Brandon thought that he would first examine
+that wall. Perhaps there might be some opening there.
+
+He took the skeleton in his arms reverently, and proceeded to lift it
+from the chair: He could not. He looked more narrowly, and saw a chain
+which had been fastened around it and bound it to the chair.
+
+What was the meaning of this? Had the crew mutinied, bound the captain,
+and run? Had the Spaniards seized the ship after all? Had they recovered
+the spoil, and punished in this way the plunderer of three galleons, by
+binding him here to the chair, scuttling the ship, and sending him down
+to the bottom of the sea?
+
+The idea of the possibility of this made Brandon sick with anxiety.
+He pulled the chair away, put it on one side, and began to examine the
+wooden wall by running his hand along it. There was nothing whatever
+perceptible. The wall was on the side farthest from the stern, and
+almost amidships. He pounded it, and, by the feeling, knew that it was
+hollow behind. He walked to the door which was on one side, and passed
+in behind this very wall. There was nothing there. It had once perhaps
+been used as part of the cabin. He came back disconsolately, and stood
+on the very place where the chair had been.
+
+"Let me be calm," he said to himself. "This enterprise is hopeless. Yes,
+the Spaniards captured the ship, recovered the treasure, and drowned my
+ancestor. Let me not be deceived. Let me cast away hope, and search here
+without any idle expectation."
+
+Suddenly as he thought he felt the floor gradually giving way beneath
+him. He started, but before he could move or even think in what
+direction to go the floor sank in, and he at once sank with it downward.
+
+Had it not been that the tube was of ample extent, and had been
+carefully managed so as to guard against any abrupt descent among rocks
+at the bottom of the sea, this sudden fall might have ended Brandon's
+career forever. As it was he only sank quickly, but without accident,
+until his breast was on a level with the cabin floor.
+
+In a moment the truth flashed upon him. He had been standing on a
+trap-door which opened from the cabin floor into the hold of the ship.
+Over this trap-door old Ralph Brandon had seated and bound himself. Was
+it to guard the treasure? Was it that he might await his descendant, and
+thus silently indicate to him the place where he must look?
+
+And now the fever of Brandon's conflicting hope and fear grew more
+intense than it had ever yet been through all this day of days. He
+stooped down to feel what it was that lay under his feet. His hands
+grasped something, the very touch of which sent a thrill sharp and
+sudden through every fibre of his being.
+
+_They were metallic bars!_
+
+He rose up again overcome. He hardly dared to take one up so as to see
+what it might be. For the actual sight would realize hope or destroy it
+forever.
+
+Once more he stooped down. In a sort of fury he grasped a bar in each
+hand and raised it up to the light.
+
+Down under the sea the action of water had not destroyed the color
+of those bars which he held up in the dim light that came through the
+waters. The dull yellow of those rough ingots seemed to gleam with
+dazzling brightness before his bewildered eyes, and filled his whole
+soul with a torrent of rapture and of triumph.
+
+His emotions overcame him. The bars of gold fell down from his trembling
+hands. He sank back and leaned against the wall.
+
+But what was it that lay under his feet? What were all these bars? Were
+they all gold? Was this indeed all here--the plunder of the Spanish
+treasure-ships--the wealth which might purchase a kingdom--the treasure
+equal to an empire's revenue--the gold and jewels in countless store?
+
+A few moments of respite were needed in order to overcome the tremendous
+conflict of feeling which raged within his breast. Then once more he
+stooped down. His outstretched hand felt over all this space which thus
+was piled up with treasure.
+
+It was about four feet square. The ingots lay in the centre. Around the
+sides were boxes. One of these he took out. It was made of thick oaken
+plank, and was about ten inches long and eight wide. The rusty nails
+gave but little resistance, and the iron bands which once bound them
+peeled off at a touch. He opened the box.
+
+Inside was a casket.
+
+He tore open the casket.
+
+_It was filled with jewels!_
+
+His work was ended. No more search, no more fear. He bound the casket
+tightly to the end of the signal-line, added to it a bar of gold, and
+clambered to the deck.
+
+He cast off the weight that was at his waist, which he also fastened to
+the line, and let it go.
+
+Freed from the weight he rose buoyantly to the top of the water.
+
+The boat pulled rapidly toward him and took him in. As he removed his
+helmet he saw Frank's eyes fixed on his in mute inquiry. His face was
+ashen, his lips bloodless.
+
+Louis smiled.
+
+"Heavens!" cried Frank, "can it be?"
+
+"Pull up the signal-line and see for yourself," was the answer.
+
+And, as Frank pulled, Louis uttered a cry which made him look up.
+
+Louis pointed to the sun. "Good God! what a time I must have been down!"
+
+"Time!" said Frank. "Don't say time--it was eternity!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+
+BEATRICE'S JOURNAL
+
+BRANDON HALL
+
+September 1, 1848.--Paolo Langhetti used to say that it was useful
+to keep a diary; not one from day to day, for each day's events are
+generally trivial, and therefore not worthy of record; but rather a
+statement in full of more important events in one's life, which may be
+turned to in later years. I wish I had begun this sixteen months ago,
+when I first came here. How full would have been my melancholy record by
+this time!
+
+Where shall I begin?
+
+Of course, with my arrival here, for that is the time when we separated.
+There is no need for me to put down in writing the events that took
+place when _he_ was with me. Not a word that he ever spoke, not a look
+that he ever gave, has escaped my memory. This much I may set down here.
+
+Alas! the shadow of the African forest fell deeply and darkly upon me.
+Am I stronger than other women, or weaker? I know not. Yet I can be calm
+while my heart is breaking. Yes, I am at once stronger and weaker; so
+weak that my heart breaks, so strong that I can hide it.
+
+I will begin from the time of my arrival here.
+
+I came knowing well who the man was and what he was whom I had for my
+father. I came with every word of that despairing voyager ringing in my
+ears--that cry from the drifting _Vishnu_, where Despard laid down to
+die. How is it that his very name thrills through me? I am nothing
+to him. I am one of the hateful brood of murderers. A Thug was my
+father--and my mother who? And who am I, and what?
+
+At least my soul is not his, though I am his daughter. My soul is
+myself, and life on earth can not last forever. Hereafter I may stand
+where that man may never approach.
+
+How can I ever forget the first sight which I had of my father, who
+before I saw him had become to me as abhorrent as a demon! I came up in
+the coach to the door of the Hall and looked out. On the broad piazza
+there were two men; one was sitting, the other standing.
+
+The one who was standing was somewhat elderly, with a broad, fat face,
+which expressed nothing in particular but vulgar good-nature. He was
+dressed in black; and looked like a serious butler, or perhaps still
+more like some of the Dissenting ministers whom I have seen. He stood
+with his hands in his pockets, looking at me with a vacant smile.
+
+The other man was younger, not over thirty. He was thin, and looked pale
+from dissipation. His face was covered with spots, his eyes were gray,
+his eyelashes white. He was smoking a very large pipe, and a tumbler of
+some kind of drink stood on the stone pavement at his feet. He stared at
+me between the puffs of his pipe, and neither moved nor spoke.
+
+If I had not already tasted the bitterness of despair I should have
+tasted it as I saw these men. Something told me that they were my father
+and brother. My very soul sickened at the sight--the memory of Despard's
+words came back--and if it had been possible to have felt any tender
+natural affection for them, this recollection would have destroyed it.
+
+"I wish to see Mr. Potts," said I, coldly.
+
+My father stared at me.
+
+"I'm Mr. Potts," he answered.
+
+"I am Beatrice," said I; "I have just arrived from China."
+
+By this time the driver had opened the door, and I got out and walked up
+on the piazza.
+
+"Johnnie," exclaimed my father, "what the devil is the meaning of this?"
+
+"Gad, I don't know," returned John, with a puff of smoke.
+
+"Didn't you say she was drowned off the African coast?"
+
+"I saw so in the newspapers."
+
+"Didn't you tell me about the _Falcon_ rescuing her from the pirates,
+and then getting wrecked with all on board?"
+
+"Yes, but then there was a girl that escaped."
+
+"Oh ho!" said my father, with a long whistle. "I didn't know that."
+
+He turned and looked at me hastily, but in deep perplexity.
+
+"So you're the girl, are you?" said he at last.
+
+"I am your daughter," I answered.
+
+I saw him look at John, who winked in return.
+
+He walked up and down for a few minutes, and at last stopped and looked
+at me again.
+
+"That's all very well," said he at last, "but how do I know that you're
+the party? Have you any proof of this?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You have nothing but your own statement?"
+
+"No."
+
+"And you may be an impostor. Mind you--I'm a magistrate--and you'd
+better be careful."
+
+"You can do what you choose," said I, coldly.
+
+"No, I can't. In this country a man can't do what he chooses."
+
+I was silent.
+
+"Johnnie," said my father, "I'll have to leave her to you. You arrange
+it."
+
+John looked at me lazily, still smoking, and for some time said nothing.
+
+"I suppose," said he at last, "you've got to put it through. You began
+it, you know. You would send for her. I never saw the use of it."
+
+"But do you think this is the party?"
+
+"Oh, I dare say. It don't make any difference any way. Nobody would take
+the trouble to come to you with a sham story."
+
+"That's a fact," said my father.
+
+"So I don't see but you've got to take her."
+
+"Well," said my father, "if you think so, why all right."
+
+"I don't think any thing of the kind," returned John, snappishly. "I
+only think that she's the party you sent for."
+
+"Oh, well, it's all the same," said my father, who then turned to me
+again.
+
+"If you're the girl," he said, "you can get in. Hunt up Mrs. Compton,
+and she'll take charge of you."
+
+Compton! At the mention of that name a shudder passed through me. She
+had been in the family of the murdered man, and had ever since lived
+with his murderer. I went in without a word, prepared for the worst,
+and expecting to see some evil-faced woman, fit companion for the pair
+outside.
+
+A servant was passing along. "Where is Mrs. Compton?" I asked.
+
+"Somewhere or other, I suppose," growled the man, and went on.
+
+I stood quietly. Had I not been prepared for some such thing as this I
+might perhaps have broken down under grief, but I had read the MS., and
+nothing could surprise or wound me.
+
+I waited there for nearly half an hour, during which time no notice was
+taken of me. I heard my father and John walk down the piazza steps and
+go away. They had evidently forgotten all about me. At last a man came
+toward the door who did not look like a servant. He was dressed in
+black. He was a slender, pale, shambling man with thin, light hair,
+and a furtive eye and a weary face. He did not look like one who would
+insult me, so I asked him where I could find Mrs. Compton.
+
+He started as I spoke and looked at me in wonder, yet respectfully.
+
+"I have just come from China," said I, "and my father told me to find
+Mrs. Compton."
+
+He looked at me for some time without speaking a word. I began to think
+that he was imbecile.
+
+"So you are Mr. Potts's daughter," said he at last, in a thin, weak
+voice. "I--I didn't know that you had come--I--I knew that he was
+expecting you--but heard you were lost at sea--Mrs. Compton--yes--oh
+yes--I'll show you where you can find Mrs. Compton."
+
+He was embarrassed, yet not unkind. There was wonder in his face, as
+though he was surprised at my appearance. Perhaps it was because he
+found me so unlike my father. He walked toward the great stairs, from
+time to time turning his head to look at me, and ascended them. I
+followed, and after going to the third story we came to a room.
+
+"That's the place," said he.
+
+He then turned, without replying to my thanks, and left me. I knocked
+at the door. After some delay it was opened, and I went in. A thin, pale
+woman was there. Her hair was perfectly white. Her face was marked by
+the traces of great grief and suffering, yet overspread by an expression
+of surpassing gentleness and sweetness. She looked like one of these
+women who live lives of devotion for others, who suffer out of the
+spirit of self-sacrifice, and count their own comfort and happiness as
+nothing in comparison with that of those whom they love. My heart warmed
+toward her at the first glance; I saw that this place could not be
+altogether corrupt since she was here.
+
+"I am Mr. Potts's daughter," said I; "are you Mrs. Compton?"
+
+She stood mute. An expression of deadly fear overspread her countenance,
+which seemed to turn her white face to a grayish hue, and the look that
+she gave me was such a look as one may cast upon some object of mortal
+fear.
+
+"You look alarmed," said I, in surprise; "and why? Am I then so
+frightful?"
+
+She seized my hand and covered it with kisses. This new outburst
+surprised me as much as her former fear. I did not know what to do. "Ah!
+my sweet child, my dearest!" she murmured. "How did you come here, here
+of all places on earth?"
+
+I was touched by the tenderness and sympathy of her tone. It was full of
+the gentlest love. "How did you come here?" I asked.
+
+She started and turned on me her former look of fear.
+
+"Do not look at me so," said I, "dear Mrs. Compton. You are timid. Do
+not be afraid of me. I am incapable of inspiring fear." I pressed her
+hand. "Let us say nothing more now about the place. We each seem to
+know what it is. Since I find one like you living here it will not seem
+altogether a place of despair."
+
+"Oh, door child, what words are these? You speak as if you knew all."
+
+"I know much," said I, "and I have suffered much."
+
+"Ah, my dearest! you are too young and too beautiful to suffer." An
+agony of sorrow came over her face. Then I saw upon it an expression
+which I have often marked since, a strange straggling desire to say
+something, which that excessive and ever-present terror of hers made her
+incapable of uttering. Some secret thought was in her whole face, but
+her faltering tongue was paralyzed and could not divulge it.
+
+She turned away with a deep sigh. I looked at her with much interest.
+She was not the woman I expected to find. Her face and voice won my
+heart. She was certainly one to be trusted. But still there was this
+mystery about her.
+
+Nothing could exceed her kindness and tenderness. She arranged my room.
+She did every thing that could be done to give it an air of comfort. It
+was a very luxuriously furnished chamber. All the house was lordly in
+its style and arrangements. That first night I slept the sleep of the
+weary.
+
+The next day I spent in my room, occupied with my own sad thoughts. At
+about three in the afternoon I saw _him_ come up the avenue My heart
+throbbed violently. My eyes were riveted upon that well-known face, how
+loved! how dear! In vain I tried to conjecture the reason why he should
+come. Was it to strike the first blow in his just, his implacable
+vengeance? I longed that I might receive that blow. Any thing that came
+from _him_ would be sweet.
+
+He staid a long time and then left. What passed I can not conjecture.
+But it had evidently been an agreeable visit to my father, for I heard
+him laughing uproariously on the piazza about something not long after
+he had gone.
+
+I have not seen him since.
+
+For several weeks I scarcely moved from my room. I ate with Mrs.
+Compton. Her reserve was impenetrable. It was with painful fear and
+trembling that she touched upon any thing connected with the affairs of
+the house or the family. I saw it and spared her. Poor thing, she has
+always been too timid for such a life as this.
+
+At the end of a month I began to think that I could live here in a state
+of obscurity without being molested. Strange that a daughter's feelings
+toward a father and brother should be those of horror, and that her
+desire with reference to them should be merely to keep out of their
+sight. I had no occupation, and needed none, for I had my thoughts and
+my memories. These memories were bitter, yet sweet. I took the sweet,
+and tried to solace myself with them. The days are gone forever; no
+longer does the sea spread wide; no longer can I hear his voice; I can
+hold him in my arms no more; yet I can remember--
+
+  "Das suesseste Glueck fuer die trauernde Brust,
+  Nach der schonen Liebe verschwundener Lust,
+  Sind der Liebe Schmerzen und Klagen."
+
+I think I had lived this sort of life for three months without seeing
+either my father or brother.
+
+At the end of that time my father sent for me. He informed me that
+he intended to give a grand entertainment to the county families, and
+wanted me to do the honors. He had ordered dress-makers for me; he
+wished me to wear some jewels which he had in the house, and informed
+me that it would be the grandest thing of the kind that had ever taken
+place. Fire-works were going to be let off; the grounds were to be
+illuminated, and nothing that money could effect would be spared to
+render it the most splendid festival that could be imagined.
+
+I did as he said. The dress-makers came, and I allowed them to array
+me as they chose. My father informed me that he would not give me the
+jewels till the time came, hinting a fear that I might steal them.
+
+At last the evening arrived. Invitations had been sent every where. It
+was expected that the house would be crowded. My father even ventured to
+make a personal request that I would adorn myself as well as possible.
+I did the best I could, and went to the drawing-room to receive the
+expected crowds.
+
+The hour came and passed, but no one appeared. My father looked a little
+troubled, but he and John waited in the drawing-room. Servants were sent
+down to see if any one was approaching. An hour passed. My father looked
+deeply enraged. Two hours passed. Still no one came. Three hours passed.
+I waited calmly, but my father and John, who had all the time been
+drinking freely, became furious. It was now midnight, and all hope had
+left them. They had been treated with scorn by the whole county.
+
+The servants were laughing at my father's disgrace. The proud array in
+the different rooms was all a mockery. The elaborate fire-works could
+not be used.
+
+My father turned his eyes, inflamed by anger and strong drink, toward
+me.
+
+"She's a d----d bad investment," I heard him say.
+
+"I told you so," said John, who did not deign to look at me; "but you
+were determined."
+
+They then sat drinking in silence for some time.
+
+"Sold!" said my father, suddenly, with an oath.
+
+John made no reply.
+
+"I thought the county would take to her. She's one of their own sort,"
+my father muttered.
+
+"If it weren't for you they might," said John; "but they ain't overfond
+of her dear father."
+
+"But I sent out the _invites_ in her name."
+
+"No go anyhow."
+
+"I thought I'd get in with them all right away, hobnob with lords and
+baronets, and maybe get knighted on the spot."
+
+John gave a long scream of laughter.
+
+"You old fool!" he cried; "so that's what you're up to, is it? Sir
+John--ha, ha, ha! You'll never be made Sir John by parties, I'm afraid."
+
+"Oh, don't you be too sure. I'm not put down. I'll try again," he
+continued, after a pause. "Next year I'll do it. Why, she'll marry a
+lord, and then won't I be a lord's father-in-law? What do you say to
+that?"
+
+"When did you get these notions in your blessed head?" asked John.
+
+"Oh, I've had them--It's not so much for myself, Johnnie--but for you.
+For if I'm a lord you'll be a lord too."
+
+"Lord Potts. Ha, ha, ha!"
+
+"No," said my father, with some appearance of vexation, "not that; we'll
+take our title the way all the lords do, from the estates. I'll be Lord
+Brandon, and when I die you'll get the title."
+
+"And that's your little game. Well, you've played such good little games
+in your life that I've nothing to say, except--'Go it!'"
+
+"She's the one that'll give me a lift."
+
+"Well, she ought to be able to do something."
+
+By this time I concluded that I had done my duty and prepared to retire.
+I did not wish to overhear any of their conversation. As I walked out of
+the room I still heard their remarks:
+
+"Blest if she don't look as if she thought herself the Queen," said
+John.
+
+"It's the diamonds, Johnnie."
+
+"No it ain't, it's the girl herself. I don't like the way she has of
+looking at me and through me."
+
+"Why, that's the way with that kind. It's what the lords like."
+
+"I don't like it, then, and I tell you _she's got to be took down!_"
+
+This was the last I heard. Yet one thing was evident to me from their
+conversation. My father had some wild plan of effecting an entrance
+into society through me. He thought that after he was once recognized
+he might get sufficient influence to gain a title and found a family. I
+also might marry a lord. He thus dreamed of being Lord Brandon, and one
+of the great nobles of the land.
+
+Amidst my sadness I almost smiled at this vain dream; but yet John's
+words affected me strongly--"You've played such good little games
+in your life." Well I knew with whom they were played. One was with
+Despard, the other with Brandon.
+
+This then was the reason why he had sent for me from China. The
+knowledge of his purpose made my life neither brighter nor darker. I
+still lived on as before.
+
+During these months Mrs. Compton's tender devotion to me never ceased. I
+respected her, and forbore to excite that painful fear to which she was
+subject. Once or twice I forgot myself and began speaking to her about
+her strange position here. She stopped me with her look of alarm.
+
+"Are you not afraid to be kind to me?" I asked.
+
+She looked at me piteously.
+
+"You are the only one that is kind to me," I continued. "How have you
+the courage?"
+
+"I can not help it," she murmured, "you are so dear to me."
+
+She sighed and was silent. The mystery about her remained unchanged;
+her gentle nature, her tender love, and her ever-present fear. What was
+there in her past that so influenced her life? Had she too been mixed up
+with the crime on the _Vishnu_? She! impossible. Yet surely something as
+dark as that must have been required to throw so black a cloud over
+her life. Yet what--what could that have been? In spite of myself I
+associate her secret with the tragedy of Despard. She was in his family
+long. His wife died. She must have been with her at the time.
+
+The possibilities that have suggested themselves to my mind will one
+day drive me mad. Alas, how my heart yearns over that lonely man in the
+drifting ship! And yet, merciful God! who am I that I should sympathize
+with him? My name is infamy, my blood is pollution.
+
+I spoke to her once in a general way about the past. Had she ever been
+out of England? I asked.
+
+"Yes," she answered, dreamily.
+
+"Where?"
+
+She looked at me and said not a word.
+
+At another time I spoke of China, and hinted that perhaps she too knew
+something about the East. The moment that I said this I repented. The
+poor creature was shaken from head to foot with a sudden convulsion of
+fear. This convulsion was so terrible that it seemed to me as though
+another would be death. I tried to soothe her, but she looked fearfully
+at me for a long time after.
+
+At another time I asked her directly whether her husband was alive. She
+looked at me with deep sadness and shook her head. I do not know what
+position she holds here. She is not housekeeper; none of the servants
+pay any attention to her whatever. There is an impudent head servant who
+manages the rest. I noticed that the man who showed me to her room when
+I first came treats her differently from the rest. Once or twice I saw
+them talking in one of the halls. There was deep respect in his manner.
+What he does I have not yet found out. He has always shown great respect
+to me, though why I can not imagine. He has the same timidity of manner
+which marks Mrs. Compton. His name is Philips.
+
+I once asked Mrs. Compton who Philips was, and what he did. She answered
+quickly that he was a kind of clerk to Mr. Potts, and helped him to keep
+his accounts.
+
+"Has he been with him long?" I continued.
+
+"Yes, a considerable time," she said--but I saw that the subject
+distressed her, so I changed it.
+
+For more than three months I remained in my room, but at last, through
+utter despair, I longed to go out. The noble grounds were there, high
+hills from which the wide sea was visible--that sea which shall be
+associated with his memory till I die. A great longing came over me to
+look upon its wide expanse, and feed my soul with old and dear memories.
+There it would lie, the same sea from which he so often saved me, over
+which we sailed till he laid down his noble life at my feet, and I gave
+back that life to him again.
+
+I used to ascend a hill which was half a mile behind the Hall within the
+grounds, and pass whole days there unmolested. No one took the trouble
+to notice what I did, at least I thought so till afterward. There for
+months I used to go. I would sit and look fixedly upon the blue water,
+and my imagination would carry me far away to the South, to that island
+on the African shore, where he once reclined in my arms, before the day
+when I learned that my touch was pollution to him--to that island where
+I afterward knelt by him as he lay senseless, slowly coming back to
+life, when if I might but touch the hem of his garment it was bliss
+enough for one day. Ah me, how often I have wet his feet with my
+tears--poor, emaciated feet--and longed to be able to wipe them with my
+hair, but dared not. He lay unconscious. He never knew the anguish of my
+love.
+
+Then I was less despairing. The air around was filled with the echo of
+his voice; I could shut my eyes, and bring him before me. His face was
+always visible to my soul.
+
+One day the idea came into my head to extend my ramble into the country
+outside, in order to get a wider view. I went to the gate.
+
+The porter came out and asked what I wanted. I told him.
+
+"You can't go out," said he, rudely.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Oh, them's Potts's orders--that's enough, I think."
+
+"He never said so to me," I replied, mildly.
+
+"That's no odds; he said so to me, and he told me if you made any row to
+tell you that you were watched, and might just as well give up at once."
+
+"Watched!" said I, wonderingly.
+
+"Yes--for fear you'd get skittish, and try and do something foolish. Old
+Potts is bound to keep you under his thumb."
+
+I turned away. I did not care much. I felt more surprise than any thing
+else to think that he would take the trouble to watch me. Whether he did
+or not was of little consequence. If I could only be where I had the sea
+before me it was enough.
+
+That day, on going back to the Hall, I saw John sitting on the piazza.
+A huge bull-dog which he used to take with him every where was lying at
+his feet. Just before I reached the steps a Malay servant came out of
+the house.
+
+He was about the same age as John. I knew him to be a Malay when I first
+saw him, and concluded that my father had picked him up in the East. He
+was slight but very lithe and muscular, with dark glittering eyes and
+glistening white teeth. He never looked at me when I met him, but always
+at the ground, without seeming to be aware of my existence.
+
+The Malay was passing out when John called out to him,
+
+"Hi, there, Vijal!"
+
+Vijal looked carelessly at him.
+
+"Here!" cried John, in the tone with which he would have addressed his
+dog.
+
+Vijal stopped carelessly.
+
+"Pick up my hat, and hand it to me."
+
+His hat had fallen down behind him. Vijal stood without moving, and
+regarded him with an evil smile.
+
+"D--n you, do you hear?" cried John. "Pick up my hat."
+
+But Vijal did not move.
+
+"If you don't, I'll set the dog on you," cried John, starting to his
+feet in a rage.
+
+Still Vijal remained motionless.
+
+"Nero!" cried John, furiously, pointing to Vijal, "seize him, Sir."
+
+The dog sprang up and at once leaped upon Vijal. Vijal warded off the
+assault with his arm. The dog seized it, and held on, as was his nature.
+Vijal did not utter a cry, but seizing the dog, he threw him on his
+back, and flinging himself upon him, fixed his own teeth in the dog's
+throat.
+
+John burst into a torrent of the most frightful curses. He ordered Vijal
+to let go of the dog. Vijal did not move; but while the dog's teeth were
+fixed in his arm, his own were still fixed as tenaciously in the throat
+of the dog.
+
+John sprang forward and kicked him with frightful violence. He leaped on
+him and stamped on him. At last, Vijal drew a knife from his girdle and
+made a dash at John. This frightened John, who fell back cursing. Vijal
+then raised his head.
+
+The dog lay motionless. He was dead. Vijal sat down, his arm running
+blood, with the knife in his hand, still glaring at John.
+
+During this frightful scene I stood rooted to the spot in horror. At
+last the sight of Vijal's suffering roused me. I rushed forward, and
+tearing the scarf from my neck, knelt down and reached out my hand to
+stanch the blood.
+
+Vijal drew back. "Poor Vijal," said I, "let me stop this blood. I can
+dress wounds. How you suffer!"
+
+He looked at me in bewilderment. Surprise at hearing a kind word in this
+house of horror seemed to deprive him of speech. Passively he let me
+take his arm, and I bound it up as well as I could.
+
+All this time John stood cursing, first me, and then Vijal. I said not a
+word, and Vijal did not seem to hear him, but sat regarding me with his
+fiery black eyes. When at last I had finished, he rose and still stood
+staring at me. I walked into the house.
+
+John hurled a torrent of imprecations after me. The last words that I
+heard were the same as he had said once before. "You've got to be took
+down; and I'll be d--d if you don't get took down precious soon!"
+
+I told Mrs. Compton of what had happened. As usual, she was seized with
+terror. She looked at me with a glance of fearful apprehension. At last
+she gasped out:
+
+"They'll kill you."
+
+"Let them," said I, carelessly; "it would be better than living."
+
+"Oh dear!" groaned the poor old thing, and sank sobbing in a chair. I
+did what I could to soothe her, but to little purpose. She afterward
+told me that Vijal had escaped further punishment in spite of John's
+threats, and hinted that they were half afraid of him.
+
+The next day, on attempting to go out, Philips told me that I was not
+to be permitted to leave the house. I considered it the result of John's
+threat, and yielded without a word.
+
+After this I had to seek distraction from my thoughts within the house.
+Now there came over me a great longing for music. Once, when in the
+drawing-room on that famous evening of the abortive fete, which was the
+only time I ever was there, I had noticed a magnificent grand piano of
+most costly workmanship. The thought of this came to my mind, and an
+unconquerable desire to try it arose. So I went down and began to play.
+
+It was a little out of tune, but the tone was marvelously full and
+sweet. I threw myself with indescribable delight into the charm of
+the hour. All the old joy which music once used to bring came back.
+Imagination, stimulated by the swelling harmonies, transported me far
+away from this prison-house and its hateful associations to that happier
+time of youth when not a thought of sorrow came over me. I lost myself
+therein. Then that passed, that life vanished, and the sea-voyage began.
+The thoughts of my mind and the emotions of my heart passed down to the
+quivering chords and trembled into life and sound.
+
+I do not know how long I had been playing when suddenly I heard a sob
+behind me. I started and turned. It was Philips.
+
+He was standing with tears in his eyes and a rapt expression on his
+emaciated face, his hands hanging listless, and his whole air that of
+one who had lost all senses save that of hearing. But as I turned and
+stopped, the spell that bound him was broken. He sighed and looked at me
+earnestly.
+
+[Illustration: "I STOOD LOOKING AT HIM WITH A GAZE SO FIXED AND INTENSE
+THAT IT SEEMED AS IF ALL MY BEING WERE CENTERED IN MY EYES."]
+
+"Can you sing?"
+
+"Would you like me to do so?"
+
+"Yes," he said, in a faint imploring voice.
+
+I began a low song--a strain associated with that same childhood of
+which I had just been thinking--a low, sad strain, sweet to my ears and
+to my soul; it spoke of peace and innocence, quiet home joys, and calm
+delights. My own mind brought before me the image of the house where I
+had lived, with the shadow of great trees around, and gorgeous flowers
+every where, where the sultry air breathed soft, and beneath the hot
+noon all men sank to rest and slumber.
+
+When I stopped I turned again. Philips had not changed his attitude. But
+as I turned he uttered an exclamation and tore out his watch.
+
+"Oh, Heavens!--two hours!" he exclaimed. "He'll kill me for this."
+
+With these words he rushed out of the room.
+
+I kept up my music for about ten days, when one day it was stopped
+forever. I was in the middle of a piece when I heard heavy footsteps
+behind me. I turned and saw my father. I rose and looked at him with an
+effort to be respectful. It was lost on him, however. He did not glance
+at me.
+
+"I came up to say to you," said he, after a little hesitation, "that I
+can't stand this infernal squall and clatter any longer. So in future
+you just shut up."
+
+He turned and left me. I closed the piano forever, and went to my room.
+
+The year ended, and a new year began. January passed away. My melancholy
+began to affect my health. I scarcely ever slept at night, and to eat
+was difficult. I hoped that I was going to die. Alas! death will not
+come when one calls. One day I was in my room lying on the couch when
+Mrs. Compton came. On entering she looked terrified about something. She
+spoke in a very agitated voice: "They want you down stairs."
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Mr. Potts and John."
+
+"Well," said I, and I prepared to get ready.
+
+"When do they want me?"
+
+"Now," said Mrs. Compton, who by this time was crying.
+
+"Why are you so agitated?" I asked.
+
+"I am afraid for you."
+
+"Why so? Can any thing be worse?"
+
+"Ah, my dearest! you don't know--you don't know."
+
+I said nothing more, but went down. On entering the room I saw my father
+and John seated at a table with brandy before them. A third man was
+there. He was a thick-set man of about the same height of my father,
+but more muscular, with a strong, square jaw, thick neck, low brow,
+and stern face. My father did not show any actual ferocity in his face
+whatever he felt; but this man's face expressed relentless cruelty.
+
+On entering the room I walked up a little distance and stood looking at
+them.
+
+"There, Clark; what do you think of that?" said my father.
+
+The name, Clark, at once made known to me who this man was--that old
+associate of my father--his assistant on board the _Vishnu_. Yet the
+name did not add one whit to the abhorrence which I felt--my father was
+worse even than he.
+
+The man Clark looked at me scrutinizingly for some time.
+
+"So that's the gal," said he, at last.
+
+"That's the gal," said my father.
+
+Clark waved his hand at me. "Turn round sideways," said he.
+
+I looked at him quietly without moving. He repeated the order, but I
+took no notice of it.
+
+"D--n her!" said he. "Is she deaf?"
+
+"Not a bit of it," said John; "but she's plucky. She'd just as soon
+you'd kill her as not. There isn't any way of moving her."
+
+"Turn round!" cried my father, angrily.
+
+I turned as he said. "You see," said he, with a laugh, "she's been
+piously brought up; she honors her father."
+
+At this Clark burst into a loud laugh.
+
+Some conversation followed about me as I stood there. Clark then ordered
+me to turn round and face him. I took no notice; but on my father's
+ordering it, I obeyed as before. This appeared to amuse them all very
+greatly, just as the tricks of an intelligent poodle might have done.
+Clark gave me many commands on purpose to see my refusal, and have my
+father's order which followed obeyed.
+
+"Well," said he, at last, leaning back in his chair, "she is a showy
+piece of furniture. Your idea isn't a bad one either."
+
+He rose from his chair and came toward me. I stood looking at him with a
+gaze so fixed and intense that it seemed as if all my being were centred
+in my eyes.
+
+He came up and reached out to take hold of my arm. I stepped back. He
+looked up angrily. But, for some reason, the moment that he caught sight
+of my face, an expression of fear passed over his.
+
+"Heavens!" he groaned; "look at that face!" I saw my father look at me.
+The same horror passed over his countenance. An awful thought came
+to me. As these men turned their faces away from me in fear I felt my
+strength going. I turned and rushed from the room. I do not remember any
+thing more.
+
+It was early in February when this occurred. Until the beginning of
+August I lay senseless. For the first four months I hovered faintly
+between life and death.
+
+Why did they not let me die? Why did I not die? Alas! had I died I might
+now have been beyond this sorrow: I have waked to meet it all again.
+
+Mrs. Compton says she found me on the floor of my own room, and that I
+was in a kind of stupor. I had no fever or delirium. A doctor came, who
+said it was a congestion of the brain. Thoughts like mine might well
+destroy the brain forever.
+
+For a month I have been slowly recovering. I can now walk about the
+room. I know nothing of what is going on in the house, and wish to know
+nothing. Mrs. Compton is as devoted as ever.
+
+I have got thus far, and will stop here. I have been several days
+writing this. I must stop till I am stronger.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+
+THE BYZANTINE HYMNISTS.
+
+More than a year had passed since that visit to Thornton Grange which
+has already been mentioned. Despard had not forgotten or neglected the
+melancholy case of the Brandon family. He had written in all directions,
+and had gone on frequent visits.
+
+On his return from one of these he went to the Grange. Mrs. Thornton was
+sitting in the drawing-room, looking pensively out of the window, when
+she saw his well-known figure advancing up the avenue. His face was sad,
+and pervaded by a melancholy expression, which was noticeable now as he
+walked along.
+
+But when he came into the room that melancholy face suddenly lighted up
+with the most radiant joy. Mrs. Thornton advanced to meet him, and he
+took her hand in both of his.
+
+"I ought to say, welcome back again," said she, with forced liveliness,
+"but you may have been in Holby a week for all I know. When did you come
+back? Confess now that you have been secluding yourself in your study
+instead of paying your respects in the proper quarter."
+
+Despard smiled. "I arrived home at eleven this morning. It is now three
+P.M. by my watch. Shall I say how impatiently I have waited till three
+o'clock should come?
+
+"Oh no! don't say any thing of the sort. I can imagine all that you
+would say. But tell me where you have been on this last visit?"
+
+"Wandering like an evil spirit, seeking rest and finding none."
+
+"Have you been to London again?"
+
+"Where have I not been?"
+
+By this time they had seated themselves.
+
+"My last journey," said Despard, "like my former ones, was, of course,
+about the Brandon affair. You know that I have had long conversations
+with Mr. Thornton about it, and he insists that nothing whatever can
+be done. But you know, also, that I could not sit down idly and
+calmly under this conviction. I have felt most keenly the presence
+of intolerable wrong. Every day I have felt as if I had shared in the
+infamy of those who neglected that dying man. That was the reason why I
+wrote to Australia to see if the Brandon who was drowned was really the
+one I supposed. I heard, you know, that he was the same man, and there
+is no doubt about that. Then you know, as I told you, that I went around
+among different lawyers to see if any thing could be done. Nearly all
+asserted that no redress was possible. That is what Mr. Thornton said.
+There was one who said that if I were rich enough I might begin a
+prosecution, but as I am not rich that did me no good. That man would
+have been glad, no doubt, to have undertaken such a task."
+
+"What is there in law that so hardens the heart?" said Mrs. Thornton,
+after a pause. "Why should it kill all sentiment, and destroy so utterly
+all the more spiritual qualities?"
+
+"I don't think that the law does this necessarily. It depends after all
+on the man himself. If I were a lawyer, I should still love music above
+all things."
+
+"But did you ever know a lawyer who loved music?"
+
+"I have not known enough of them to answer that. But in England music is
+not loved so devotedly as in other countries. Is it inconceivable that
+an Italian lawyer should love music?"
+
+"I don't know. Law is abhorrent to me. It seems to be a profession that
+kills the finer sentiments."
+
+"Why so, more than medicine? The fact is where ordinary men are
+concerned any scientific profession renders Art distasteful. At least
+this is so in England. After all, most depends on the man himself, and,
+one who is born with a keen sensibility to the charms of art will carry
+it through life, whatever his profession may be.
+
+"But suppose the man himself has neither taste, nor sensibility, nor any
+appreciation of the beautiful, nor any sympathy whatever with those who
+love such things, what then?"
+
+Mrs. Thornton spoke earnestly as she asked this.
+
+"Well," said Despard, "that question answers itself. As a man is born,
+so he is; and if nature denies him taste or sensibility it makes no
+difference what is his profession."
+
+Mrs. Thornton made no reply.
+
+"My last journey," said Despard, "was about the Brandon case. I went
+to London first to see if something could not be done. I had been
+there before on the same errand, but without success. I was equally
+unsuccessful this time.
+
+"I tried to find out about Potts, the man who had purchased the estate,
+but learned that it was necessary to go to the village of Brandon. I
+went there, and made inquiries. Without exception the people sympathized
+with the unfortunate family, and looked with detestation upon the man
+who had supplanted them.
+
+"I heard that a young lady went there last year who was reputed to be
+his daughter. Every one said that she was extraordinarily beautiful, and
+looked like a lady. She stopped at the inn under the care of a gentleman
+who accompanied her, and went to the Hall. She has never come out of it
+since.
+
+"The landlord told me that the gentleman was a pale, sad-looking man,
+with dark hair and beard. He seemed very devoted to the young lady, and
+parted with her in melancholy silence. His account of this young lady
+moved me very strangely. He was not at all a sentimental man, but a
+burly John Bull, which made his story all the more touching. It is
+strange, I must say, that one like her should go into that place and
+never be seen again. I do not know what to think of it, nor did any of
+those with whom I spoke in the village."
+
+"Do you suppose that she really went there and never came back?"
+
+"That is what they say."
+
+"Then they must believe that she is kept there."
+
+"Yes, so they do."
+
+"Why do they not take some steps in the matter?"
+
+"What can they do? She is his daughter. Some of the villagers who have
+been to the Hall at different times say that they heard her playing and
+singing."
+
+"That does not sound like imprisonment."
+
+"The caged bird sings."
+
+"Then you think she is a prisoner?"
+
+"I think it odd that she has never come out, not even to go to church."
+
+"It is odd."
+
+"This man Potts excited sufficient interest in my mind to lead me to
+make many inquiries. I found, throughout the county, that every body
+utterly despised him. They all thought that poor Ralph Brandon had
+been almost mad, and, by his madness had ruined his family. Every body
+believed that Potts had somehow deceived him, but no one could tell how.
+They could not bring any direct proof against him.
+
+"But I found out in Brandon the sad particulars of the final fate of
+the poor wife and her unfortunate children. They had been sent away or
+assisted away by this Potts to America, and had all died either on the
+way out or shortly after they had arrived, according to the villagers. I
+did not tell them what I knew, but left them to believe what they chose.
+It seemed to me that they must have received this information from Potts
+himself; who alone in that poor community would have been able to trace
+the fortunes of the unhappy emigrants."
+
+There was a long silence.
+
+"I have done all that I could," said Despard, in a disconsolate tone,
+"and I suppose nothing now remains to be done. When we hear again from
+Paolo there may be some new information upon which we can act."
+
+"And you can go back to your Byzantine poets."
+
+"Yes, if you will assist me."
+
+"You know I shall only be too happy."
+
+"And I shall be eternally grateful. You see, as I told you before, there
+is a field of labor here for the lover of music which is like a new
+world. I will give you the grandest musical compositions that you have
+ever seen. I will let you have the old hymns of the saints who lived
+when Constantinople was the only civilized spot in Europe, and the
+Christians there were hurling back the Mohammedans. You shall sing the
+noblest songs that you have ever seen."
+
+"How--in Greek? You must teach me the alphabet then."
+
+"No; I will translate them for you. The Greek hymns are all in
+rhythmical prose, like the _Te Deum_ and the _Gloria_. A literal
+translation can be sung as well as the originals. You will then enter
+into the mind and spirit of the ancient Eastern Church before the days
+of the schism.
+
+"Yes," continued Despard, with an enthusiasm which he did not care to
+conceal, "we will go together at this sweet task, and we will sing the
+[Greek: cath castaen aemeran], which holds the same place in the Greek
+Church that the _Te Deum_ does in ours. We will chant together the
+Golden Canon of St. John Damascene--the Queen of Canons, the grandest
+song of 'Christ is risen' that mortals ever composed. Your heart and
+mine will beat together with one feeling at the sublime choral strain.
+We will sing the 'Hymn of Victory.' We will go together over the songs
+of St. Cosmas, St. Theophanes, and St. Theodore; St. Gregory, St.
+Anatobus, and St. Andrew of Crete shall inspire us; and the thoughts
+that have kindled the hearts of martyrs at the stake shall exalt our
+souls to heaven. But I have more than this. I have some compositions of
+my own; poor ones, indeed, yet an effort in the right way. They are a
+collection of those hymns of the Primitive Church which are contained in
+the New Testament. I have tried to set them to music. They are: 'Worthy
+is the Lamb,' 'Unto Him that loved us,' 'Great and marvelous are thy
+works,' and the 'Trisagion.' Yes, we will go together at this lofty and
+heavenly work, and I shall be able to gain a new interpretation from
+your sympathy."
+
+Despard spoke with a vehement enthusiasm that kindled his eyes with
+unusual lustre and spread a glow over his pale face. He looked like
+some devotee under a sudden inspiration. Mrs. Thornton caught all
+his enthusiasm; her eyes brightened, and her face also flushed with
+excitement.
+
+"Whenever you are ready to lead me into that new world of music," said
+she, "I am ready to follow."
+
+"Are you willing to begin next Monday?"
+
+"Yes. All my time is my own."
+
+"Then I will come for you."
+
+"Then I will be waiting for you. By-the-way, are you engaged for
+to-night?"
+
+"No; why?"
+
+"There is going to be a fete champetre. It is a ridiculous thing for the
+Holby people to do; but I have to go to play the patroness. Mr. Thornton
+does not want to go. Would you sacrifice yourself to my necessities, and
+allow me your escort?"
+
+"Would a thirsty man be willing to accept a cooling draught?" said
+Despard, eagerly. "You open heaven before me, and ask me if I will
+enter."
+
+His voice trembled, and he paused.
+
+"You never forget yourself," said Mrs. Thornton, with slight agitation,
+looking away as she spoke.
+
+"I will be back at any hour you say."
+
+"You will do no such thing. Since you are here you must remain and dine,
+and then go with me. Do you suppose I would trust you? Why, if I let you
+go, you might keep me waiting a whole hour."
+
+"Well, if your will is not law to me what is? Speak, and your servant
+obeys. To stay will only add to my happiness."
+
+"Then let me make you happy by forcing you to stay."
+
+Despard's face showed his feelings, and to judge by its expression his
+language had not been extravagant.
+
+The afternoon passed quietly. Dinner was served up. Thornton came in,
+and greeted Despard with his usual abstraction, leaving his wife to
+do the agreeable. After dinner, as usual, he prepared for a nap, and
+Despard and Mrs. Thornton started for the fete.
+
+It was to be in some gardens at the other end of Holby, along the shore.
+The townspeople had recently formed a park there, and this was one of
+the preliminaries to its formal inauguration. The trees were hung with
+innumerable lamps of varied colors. There were bands of music, and
+triumphal arches, and gay festoons, and wreaths of flowers, and every
+thing that is usual at such a time.
+
+On arriving, Despard assisted Mrs. Thornton from the carriage and
+offered his arm. She took it, but her hand rested so lightly on it
+that its touch was scarce perceptible. They walked around through the
+illuminated paths. Great crowds of people were there. All looked with
+respectful pleasure at Mrs. Thornton and the Rector.
+
+"You ought to be glad that you have come," said she. "See how these poor
+people feel it: we are not persons of very great consequence, yet our
+presence is marked and enjoyed."
+
+"All places are alike to me," answered Despard, "when I am with you.
+Still, there are circumstances about this which will make it forever
+memorable to me."
+
+"Look at those lights," exclaimed Mrs. Thornton, suddenly; "what varied
+colors!"
+
+"Let us walk into that grotto," said Despard, turning toward a cool,
+dark place which lay before them.
+
+Here, at the end of the grotto, was a tree, at the foot of which was
+a seat. They sat down and staid for hours. In the distance the lights
+twinkled and music arose. They said little, but listened to the confused
+murmur which in the pauses of the music came up from afar.
+
+Then they rose and walked back. Entering the principal path a great
+crowd streamed on which they had to face.
+
+Despard sighed. "You and I," said he, stooping low and speaking in a sad
+voice, "are compelled to go against the tide."
+
+"Shall we turn back and go with it?"
+
+"We can not."
+
+"Do you wish to turn aside?"
+
+"We can not. We must walk against the tide, and against the rush of men.
+If we turn aside there is nothing but darkness."
+
+They walked on in silence till they reached the gate.
+
+"The carriage has not come," said Mrs. Thornton.
+
+"Do you prefer riding?"
+
+"No."
+
+"It is not far. Will you walk?"
+
+"With pleasure."
+
+They walked on slowly. About half-way they met the carriage. Mrs.
+Thornton ordered it back, saying that she would walk the rest of the
+way.
+
+They walked on slowly, saying so little that at last Mrs. Thornton began
+to speak about the music which they had proposed to undertake. Despard's
+enthusiasm seemed to have left him. His replies were vague and general.
+On reaching the gate he stood still for a moment under the trees and
+half turned toward her. "You don't say any thing about the music?" said
+she.
+
+"That's because I am so stupid. I have lost my head. I am not capable of
+a single coherent idea."
+
+"You are thinking of something else all the time."
+
+"My brain is in a whirl. Yes, I am thinking of something else."
+
+"Of what?"
+
+"I'm afraid to say."
+
+Mrs. Thornton was silent. They entered the gate and walked up the
+avenue, slowly and in silence. Despard made one or two efforts to stop,
+and then continued. At last they reached the door. The lights were
+streaming brightly from window. Despard stood, silently.
+
+"Will you not come in?"
+
+"No, thank you," said he, dreamily. "It is rather too late, and I must
+go. Good-night."
+
+He held out his hand. She offered hers, and he took it. He held it long,
+and half stooped as though he wished to say something. She felt the
+throbbing of his heart in his hand as it clasped hers. She said nothing.
+Nor did Despard seem able to say any thing. At last he let go her hand
+slowly and reluctantly.
+
+"You will not forget the music?" said he.
+
+"No."
+
+"Good-night."
+
+He took her hand again in both of his. As the light shone through the
+windows she saw his face--a face full of longing beyond words, and
+sadness unutterable.
+
+"Good-night," she faltered.
+
+He let go her hand, and turning away, was lost amidst the gloom. She
+waited till the sound of his footsteps had died away, and then went into
+the house.
+
+On the following morning Despard was walking along when he met her
+suddenly at a corner of the street. He stopped with a radiant face, and
+shaking hands with her, for a moment was unable to speak.
+
+"This is too much happiness," he said at last. "It is like a ray of
+light to a poor captive when you burst upon me so suddenly. Where are
+you going?"
+
+"Oh, I'm only going to do a little shopping."
+
+"I'm sure I wish that I could accompany you to protect you."
+
+"Well, why not?"
+
+"On the whole, I think that shopping is not my forte, and that my
+presence would not be essential."
+
+He turned, however, and walked with her some distance, as far as the
+farthest shop in the town. They talked gayly and pleasantly about the
+fete. "You will not forget the music," said he, on parting. "Will
+you come next Monday? If you don't, I won't be responsible for the
+consequences."
+
+"Do you mean to say, Sir, that you expect me to come alone?"
+
+"I did not hope for any thing else."
+
+"Why, of course, you must call for me. If you do not I won't go."
+
+Despard's eyes brightened.
+
+"Oh, then, since you allow me so sweet a privilege, I will go and
+accompany you."
+
+"If you fail me I will stay at home," said she, laughingly.
+
+He did not fail her, but at the appointed time went up to the Grange.
+Some strangers were there, and Mrs. Thornton gave him a look of deep
+disappointment. The strangers were evidently going to spend the day,
+so Despard, after a short call, withdrew. Before he left, Mrs. Thornton
+absented herself on some pretext for a few moments, and as he quitted
+the room she went to the door with him and gave him a note.
+
+He walked straight home, holding the note in his hands till he reached
+his study; then he locked himself in, opened the note, and read as
+follows:
+
+"DEAR MR. DESPARD,--How does it happen that things turn out just as they
+ought not? I was so anxious to go with you to the church to-day about
+our music. I know my own powers; they are not contemptible; they are
+not uncultivated; they are simply, and wholly, and irretrievably
+_commonplace_. That much I deem it my duty to inform you.
+
+"These wretched people, who have spoiled a day's pleasure, dropped upon
+me as suddenly as though they had come from the skies. They leave on
+Thursday morning. Come on Thursday afternoon. If you do not I will never
+forgive you. On that day give up your manuscripts and books for music
+and the organ, and allot some portion of your time to, Yours,
+
+"T.T."
+
+On Thursday Despard called, and Mrs. Thornton was able to accompany
+him. The church was an old one, and had one of the best organs in Wales.
+Despard was to play and she to sing. He had his music ready, and the
+sheets were carefully and legibly written out from the precious old
+Greek scores which he loved so dearly and prized so highly.
+
+They began with the canon for Easter-day of St. John Damascene, who,
+according to Despard, was the best of the Eastern hymnists. Mrs.
+Thornton's voice was rich and full. As she came to the [Greek:
+anastaseos haemera]--Resurrection Day--it took up a tone of
+indescribable exaltation, blending with the triumph peal of the organ.
+Despard added his own voice--a deep, strong, full-toned basso--and
+their blended strains bore aloft the sublimest of utterances, "Christ is
+arisen!"
+
+[Illustration: AND THEIR BLENDED STRAINS BORE ALOFT THE SUBLIMEST OF
+UTTERANCES, 'CHRIST IS ARISEN']
+
+Then followed a more mournful chant, full of sadness and profound
+melancholy, the [Greek: teleutaion aspasmon]--the Last Kiss--the hymn of
+the dead, by the same poet.
+
+Then followed a sublimer strain, the hymn of St. Theodore on the
+Judgment--[Greek: taen haemeran taen phriktaen]--where all the horrors
+of the day of doom are set forth. The chant was commensurate with the
+dread splendors of the theme. The voices of the two singers blended in
+perfect concord. The sounds which were thus wrought out bore themselves
+through the vaulted aisles, returning again to their own ears, imparting
+to their own hearts something of the awe with which imagination has
+enshrouded the Day of days, and giving to their voices that saddened
+cadence which the sad spirit can convey to its material utterance.
+
+Despard then produced some composition of his own, made after the manner
+of the Eastern chants, which he insisted were the primitive songs of the
+early Church. The words were those fragments of hymns which are imbedded
+in the text of the New Testament. He chose first the song of the angels,
+which was first sung by "a great voice out of heaven"--[Greek: idou, hae
+skaenae tou Deou]--Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men!
+
+The chant was a marvelous one. It spoke of sorrow past, of grief stayed,
+of misery at an end forever, of tears dried, and a time when "there
+shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying." There was a gentle
+murmur in the flow of that solemn, soothing strain which was like the
+sighing of the evening wind among the hoary forest trees; it soothed and
+comforted; it brought hope, and holy calm, and sweet peace.
+
+As Despard rose from the organ Mrs. Thornton looked at him with
+moistened eyes.
+
+"I do not know whether your song brings calm or unrest," said she,
+sadly, "but after singing it I would wish to die."
+
+"It is not the music, it is the words," answered Despard, "which bring
+before us a time when there shall be no sorrow or sighing."
+
+"May such a time ever be?" murmured she.
+
+"That," he replied, "it is ours to aim after. There is such a world.
+In that world all wrongs will be righted, friends will be reunited,
+and those severed here through all this earthly life will be joined for
+evermore."
+
+Their eyes met. Their spirit lived and glowed in that gaze. It was sad
+beyond expression, but each one held commune with the other in a mute
+intercourse, more eloquent than words.
+
+Despard's whole frame trembled. "Will you sing the _Ave Maria_?" he
+asked, in a low, scarce audible voice. Her head dropped. She gave a
+convulsive sigh. He continued: "We used to sing it in the old days, the
+sweet, never-forgotten days now past forever. We sang it here. We stood
+hand in hand."
+
+His voice faltered.
+
+"Sing," he said, after a time.
+
+"I can not"
+
+Despard sighed. "Perhaps it is better not; for I feel as though, if you
+were to sing it, my heart would break."
+
+"Do you believe that hearts can break?" she asked gently, but with
+indescribable pathos.
+
+Despard looked at her mournfully, and said not a word.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+
+CLASPED HANDS.
+
+Their singing went on.
+
+They used to meet once a week and sing in the church at the organ.
+Despard always went up to the Grange and accompanied her to the church.
+Yet he scarcely ever went at any other time. A stronger connection and
+a deeper familiarity arose between them, which yet was accompanied by a
+profound reverence on Despard's part, that never diminished, but as the
+familiarity increased only grew more tender and more devoted.
+
+There were many things about their music which he had to say to her. It
+constituted a common bond between them on which they could talk, and to
+which they could always revert. It formed a medium for the communion of
+soul--a lofty, spiritual intercourse, where they seemed to blend, even
+as their voices blended, in a purer realm, free from the trouble of
+earth.
+
+Amidst it all Despard had so much to tell her about the nature of the
+Eastern music that he wrote out a long letter, which he gave her they
+parted after an unusually lengthy practice. Part of it was on the
+subject of music, and the rest of a different character.
+
+The next time that they met she gave him a note in response.
+
+"DEAR MR. DESPARD--Why am I not a seraph endowed with musical powers
+beyond mortal reach? You tell me many things, and never seem to
+imagine that they are all beyond me. You never seem to think that I am
+hopelessly commonplace. You are kind in doing what you do, but where is
+the good where one is so stupid as I am?
+
+"I suppose you have given up visiting the Grange forever. I don't call
+your coming to take me to the church _visits_. I suppose I may as well
+give you up. It is as difficult to get you here as if you were the Grand
+Lama of Thibet.
+
+"Amidst all my stupidities I have two or three ideas which may be useful
+in our music, if I can only put them in practice. Bear with me, and deal
+gently with
+
+"Yours, despondingly,
+
+"T. T."
+
+To this Despard replied in a note which he gave her at their next
+meeting, calling her "Dear Seraph," and signing himself "Grand Lama."
+After this they always called each other by these names. Grand Lama was
+an odd name, but it became the sweetest of sounds to Despard since
+it was uttered by her lips--the sweetest, the most musical, and the
+tenderest. As to himself he knew not what to call this dear companion of
+his youth, but the name Seraph came into use, and grew to be associated
+with her, until at last he never called her any thing else.
+
+Yet after this he used to go to the Grange more frequently. He could
+not stay away. His steps wandered there irresistibly. An uncontrollable
+impulse forced him there. She was always alone awaiting him, generally
+with a sweet confusion of face and a tenderness of greeting which made
+him feel ready to fall on his knees before her. How else could he feel?
+Was she not always in his thoughts? Were not all his sleeping hours one
+long dream of her? Were not all his waiting thoughts filled with her
+radiant presence?
+
+  "How is it under our control
+  To love or not to love?"
+
+Did he know what it was that he felt for her? He never thought. Enough
+that he felt. And that feeling was one long agony of intense longing and
+yearning after her. Had not all his life been filled by that one bright
+image?
+
+Youth gave it to him. After-years could not efface it. The impress of
+her face was upon his heart. Her voice was always in his ears. Every
+word that she had ever spoken to him was treasured up in his memory and
+heart with an avarice of love which prevented any one word from even
+being forgotten.
+
+At church and at home, during service and out of it, in the street or
+in the study, he saw only one face, and heard only one voice. Amidst the
+bustle of committee meetings he was conscious of her image--a sweet face
+smiling on him, a tender voice saying "Lama." Was there ever so musical
+and so dear a word as "Lama?" For him, never.
+
+The hunger of his longing grew stronger every day. That strong, proud,
+self-secluded nature of his was most intense in all its feelings, and
+dwelt with concentrated passion upon this one object of its idolatry. He
+had never had any other object but this one.
+
+A happy boyhood passed in the society of this sweet playmate, then a
+young girl of his own age; a happy boyhood here in Holby, where they had
+always been inseparable, wandering hand in hand along the shore or over
+the hills; a happy boyhood where she was the one and only companion
+whom he knew or cared for--this was the sole legacy of his early life.
+Leaving Holby he had left her, but had never forgotten her. He had
+carried with him the tender memory of this bright being, and cherished
+his undying fondness, not knowing what that fondness meant. He had
+returned to find her married, and severed from him forever, at least in
+this life. When he found that he had lost her he began to understand
+how dear she was. All life stood before him aimless, pointless, and
+meaningless without her. He came back, but the old intercourse could not
+be renewed; she could not be his, and he could only live, and love, and
+endure. Perhaps it would have been wiser if he had at once left Holby
+and sought out some other abode. But the discovery of his love was
+gradual; it came through suffering and anguish; and when he knew that
+his love was so intense it was then impossible to leave. To be near her,
+to breathe the same air, to see her face occasionally, to nurse his old
+memories, to hoard up new remembrances of her words and looks--these
+now became the chief occupation of his hours of solitude, and the only
+happiness left him in his life.
+
+One day he went up with a stronger sense of desolation in his heart than
+usual, going up to see her in order to get consolation from the sight of
+her face and the sound of her voice. Their former levity had given place
+to a seriousness of manner which was very different. A deep, intense joy
+shone in the eyes of each at meeting, but that quick repartee and light
+badinage which they had used of old had been dropped.
+
+Music was the one thing of which they could speak without fear. Despard
+could talk of his Byzantine poets, and the chants of the Eastern Church,
+without being in danger of reawakening painful memories. The piano stood
+close by, and always afforded a convenient mode of distracting attention
+when it became too absorbed in one another.
+
+For Mrs. Thornton did not repel him; she did not resent his longing; she
+did not seem forgetful of what he so well remembered. How was it with
+her who had given her hand to another?
+
+  "What she felt the while
+  Dare he think?"
+
+Yet there were times when he thought it possible that she might feel as
+he did. The thought brought joy, but it also brought fear. For, if the
+struggle against this feeling needed all the strength of his nature,
+what must it cost her? If she had such a struggle as he, how could she
+endure it? Then, as he considered this, he thought to himself that he
+would rather she would not love him than love him at such a cost. He was
+willing to sacrifice his own heart. He wished only to adore her, and was
+content that she should receive, and permit, and accept his adoration,
+herself unmoved--a passionless divinity.
+
+In their intercourse it was strange how frequently there were long
+pauses of perfect silence, during which neither spoke a word. Sometimes
+each sat looking at the floor; sometimes they looked at one another, as
+though they could read each other's thoughts, and by the mere gaze of
+their earnest eyes could hold ample spiritual communion.
+
+On one such occasion they stood by the window looking out upon the lawn,
+but seeing nothing in that abstracted gaze. Despard stood facing her,
+close to her. Her hand was hanging by her side. He stooped and took that
+little slender hand in his. As he did so he trembled from head to foot.
+As he did so a faint flush passed over her face. Her head fell forward.
+Despard held her hand and she did not withdraw it. Despard drew her
+slightly toward him. She looked up into his face with large, eloquent
+eyes, sad beyond all description, yet speaking things which thrilled his
+soul. He looked down upon her with eyes that told her all that was in
+his heart. She turned her head away.
+
+Despard clung to her hand as though that hand were his life, his hope,
+his joy--as though that alone could save him from some abyss of despair
+into which he was falling. His lips moved. In vain. No audible sound
+broke that intense stillness in which the beating and throbbing of those
+two forlorn hearts could be heard. His lips moved, but all sound died
+away upon them.
+
+At last a stronger effort broke the silence.
+
+"Teresa!"
+
+It was a strange tone, a tone of longing unutterable, a tone like that
+which a dying man might use in calling before him one most dear. And all
+the pent-up feeling of years rushed forth in concentrated energy, and
+was borne to her ears in the sound of that one word. She looked up with
+the same glance as before.
+
+"Little playmate," said he, in a tone of infinite sweetness, "have you
+ever forgotten the old days? Do you remember when you and I last stood
+hand in hand?"
+
+His voice sounded like the utterance of tears, as though, if he could
+have wept, he would then have wept as no man wept before, but his eyes
+were dry through his manhood, and all that tears can express were shown
+forth in his tone.
+
+As he began to speak her head fell again. As he ended she looked up as
+before. Her lips moved. She whispered but one word:
+
+"Courtenay!"
+
+She burst into a flood of tears and sank into a chair. And Despard
+stood, not daring even to soothe her, for fear lest in that vehement
+convulsion of his soul all his self-command should give way utterly.
+
+At length Mrs. Thornton rose. "Lama," said she, at last, in a low, sad
+voice, "let us go to the piano."
+
+"Will you sing the _Ave Maria_" he asked, mournfully.
+
+"I dare not," said she, hastily. "No, anything but that. I will sing
+Rossini's _Cujus Animam_."
+
+Then followed those words which tell in lofty strains of a broken heart:
+
+  Cujus animam gementem
+  Contristatam et flebentem
+       Pertransivit gladius!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+
+JOURNAL OF PAOLO LANGHETTI.
+
+When Mrs. Thornton saw Despard next she showed him a short note which
+she had just received from her brother, accompanying his journal. Nearly
+two years had elapsed since she had last heard from him.
+
+His journal was written as before at long intervals, and was as follows:
+
+Halifax, April 10, 1847.--I exist here, but nothing more. Nothing is
+offered by this small colonial town that can afford interest. Life goes
+on monotonously. The officers and their families are what they are every
+where. They are amiable and pleasant, and try to get the best out of
+life. The townspeople are hospitable, and there is much refinement among
+them.
+
+But I live for the most part in a cottage outside of the town, where
+I can be secluded and free from observation. Near my house is the
+Northwest Arm. I cross it in a boat, and am at once in a savage
+wilderness. From the summit of a hill, appropriately named Mount Misery,
+I can look down upon this city which is bordered by such a wilderness.
+
+The winter has passed since my last entry, and nothing has occurred. I
+have learned to skate. I went out on a moose-hunt with Colonel Despard.
+The gigantic horns of a moose which I killed are now over the door of my
+studio. I have joined in some festivities, and have done the honors of
+my house. It is an old-fashioned wooden structure which they call the
+Priory.
+
+So the winter has passed, and April is now here. In this country there
+is no spring. Snow is yet on the ground. Winter is transformed gradually
+till summer. I must keep up my fires till June, they say.
+
+During the winter I have guarded my treasure well. I took a house on
+purpose to have a home for her. But her melancholy continued, and the
+state of mind in which I found her still endures. Will it ever change?
+I gave out here that she was a relative who was in ill health. But the
+winter has passed, and she remains precisely the same. Can she live on
+long in this mood?
+
+At length I have decided to try a change for her. The Holy Sisterhood
+of Mercy have a convent here, where she may find a higher and purer
+atmosphere than any where else. There I have placed her. I have told
+nothing of her story. They think she is in grief for the death of
+friends. They have received her with that warm sympathy and holy love
+which it is the aim of their life to cherish.
+
+  O mater alma Christ! carissima,
+  Te nunc flagitant devota corda et ora,
+  Ora pro nobis!
+
+August 5, 1847.--The summer goes on pleasantly. A bracing climate, a
+cool sea-breeze, fishing and hunting in the forests, sailing in the
+harbor--these are the amusements which one can find if he has the
+leisure.
+
+She has been among the Sisterhood of Mercy for some months. The deep
+calm of that holy retreat has soothed her, but only this much, that her
+melancholy has not lessened but grown more placid. She is in the midst
+of those whose thoughts are habitually directed to that work which she
+longs after. The home from which she has been exiled is the desire of
+their hearts. They aim after that place for which she longs with so deep
+a longing. There is sympathy in all those hearts with one another. She
+hears in their chants and prayers those hopes and desires, and these are
+but the utterances of what she feels.
+
+Here they sing the matchless Rhythm of Bernard de Morlaix, and in these
+words she finds the highest expression that human words can give of the
+thoughts and desires of her soul. They tell me that the first time they
+sang it, as they came to this passage she burst into tears and sank down
+almost senseless:
+
+  O bona patria! lumina sobria te speculantur,
+  Ad tua nomina sobria lumina collacrimantur:
+  Et tua mentio  pectoris unctis, cura doloris,
+  Concipientibus aethers mentibus ignis amoris.
+
+November 17.--The winter must soon be here again.
+
+My treasure is well guarded by the Holy Sisterhood. They revere her and
+look upon her as a saint. They tell me wonderful things about her which
+have sunk into my soul. They think that she is another Saint Cecilia, or
+rather Saint Teresa, the Saint of Love and Longing.
+
+She told them once that she was not a Catholic, but that any form of
+worship was sweet and precious to her--most of all, the lofty utterances
+of the prayers and hymns of the Church. She will not listen to dogmas,
+but says that God wishes only love and praise. Yet she joins in all
+their rites, and in this House, where Love is chiefly adored, she
+surpasses all in the deep love of her heart.
+
+January 2, 1848.--I have seen her for the first time in many months. She
+smiled. I never saw her smile before, except once in the ship, when I
+told my name and made her mother take my place in the cabin.
+
+She smiled. It was as if an angel from heaven had smiled on me. Do I not
+believe that she is one?
+
+They all say that she is unchanged. Her sadness has had no abatement. On
+that meeting she made an effort for my sake to stoop to me. Perhaps
+she saw how my very soul entreated her to speak. So she spoke of the
+Sisterhood, and said she loved them all. I asked her if she was happier
+here than at my house. She said "No." I did not know whether to feel
+rejoiced or sorrowful. Then she told me something which has filled me
+with wonder ever since.
+
+She asked me if I had been making inquiries about her family, for I had
+said that I would. I told her that I had. She asked what I had heard. I
+hesitated for a moment, and at last, seeing that she was superior to any
+sorrow of bereavement; I told her all about the sad fate of her brother
+Louis, which your old friend Courtenay Despard had communicated to his
+uncle here. She listened without emotion, and at last, looking earnestly
+at me, said,
+
+"_He is not dead!_"
+
+I stood amazed. I had seen the very newspapers which contained an
+account of his death, I had read the letters of Courtenay Despard, which
+showed how painstaking his search had been. Had he not traveled to every
+place where he could hear any thing of the Brandons? Had he not written
+at the very outset wherever he could hope to hear any thing? I did not
+know what to say.
+
+For Louis Brandon is known to have fallen overboard from the ship Java,
+during a tremendous monsoon, several hundred miles away from any land.
+How could he possibly have escaped death? The Captain, whom Courtenay
+Despard found out and questioned, said he threw over a hen-coop and a
+pail. These could not save him. Despard also inquired for months from
+every ship that arrived from those parts, but could learn nothing. The
+next ship that came from New South Wales foundered off the coast of
+Africa. Three passengers escaped to Sierra Leone, and thence to England.
+Despard learned their names, but they were not Brandon. The information
+which one of them, named Wheeler, gave to the ship-owners afforded
+no hope of his having been found by this ship, even if it had been
+possible. It was simply impossible, however, for the _Falcon_ did not
+pass the spot where poor Brandon fell overboard till months had elapsed.
+
+All these things I knew, and they came to my mind. She did not notice
+my emotion, but after a pause she looked at me again with the same
+earnestness, and said,
+
+"_My brother Frank is not dead._"
+
+This surprised me as much as the other.
+
+"Are you sure?" said I, reverently.
+
+"I am."
+
+"How did you learn this? All who have inquired say that both of your
+brothers are dead."
+
+"They told me," said she, "many times. _They_ said that my brothers had
+not come among them to their own place, as they would have had to come
+if they had left the earth."
+
+She spoke solemnly and with mysterious emphasis. I said nothing, for I
+knew not what to say.
+
+On going home and thinking over this, I saw that she believed herself
+to have the power of communicating with the departed. I did not know
+whether this intelligence, which she believed she had received, had
+been gained in her trance, or whether she thought that she had recent
+interviews with those on high. I went to see her again, and asked this.
+She told me that once since her recovery she had fallen into that state,
+and had been, as she called it, "in her home."
+
+I ventured to ask her more about what she considered a communion with
+the departed. She tried to speak, but looked like one who could not find
+words. It was still the same as before. She has in her mind thoughts
+which can not be expressed by any human language. She will not be able
+to express them till such a language is obtained. Yet she gave me one
+idea, which has been in my mind ever since.
+
+She said that the language of those among whom she has been has nothing
+on earth which is like it except music. If our music could be developed
+to an indefinite extent it might at last begin to resemble it. Yet
+she said that she sometimes heard strains here in the Holy Mass which
+reminded her of that language, and might be intelligible to an immortal.
+
+This is the idea which she imparted to me, and I have thought of it ever
+since.
+
+August 23--Great things have happened.
+
+When I last wrote I had gained the idea of transforming music into a
+language. The thought came to me that I, who thirst for music, and love
+it and cherish it above all things--to whom it is an hourly comfort and
+solace--that I might rise to utter forth to her sounds which she might
+hear. I had already seen enough of her spiritual tone to know what
+sympathies and emotions might best be acted upon. I saw her several
+times, so as to stimulate myself to a higher and purer exercise of
+whatever genius I may have.
+
+I was encouraged by the thought that from my earliest childhood, as I
+began to learn to speak so I began to learn to sing. As I learned to
+read printed type so I read printed music. The thoughts of composers in
+music thus became as legible to me as those of composers in words. So
+all my life my knowledge has widened, and with that knowledge my love
+has increased. This has been my one aim in life--my joy and my delight.
+Thus it came to pass that at last, when alone with my Cremona, I could
+utter all my own thoughts, and pour forth every feeling that was in my
+heart. This was a language with me. I spoke it, yet there was no one who
+could understand it fully. Only one had I ever met with to whom I told
+this besides yourself--she could accompany me--she could understand and
+follow me wherever I led. I could speak this language to her, and she
+could hear and comprehend. This one was my Bice.
+
+Now that she had told me this I grasped at the thought. Never before had
+the idea entered my mind of trying upon her the effect of my music. I
+had given it up for her sake while she was with me, not liking to cause
+any sound to disturb her rapt and melancholy mood.
+
+But now I began to understand how it was with her. She had learned the
+language of the highest places and had heard the New Song. She stood far
+above me, and if she could not understand my music it would be from the
+same reason that a grown man can not comprehend the words of a lisping,
+stammering child. She had that language in its fullness. I had it only
+in its crudest rudiments.
+
+Now Bice learned my words and followed me. She knew my utterance. I
+was the master--she the disciple. But here was one who could lead me. I
+would be the follower and disciple. From her I could learn more than in
+all my life I could ever discover by my own unassisted efforts.
+
+It was mine, therefore, to struggle to overcome the lisping, stammering
+utterance of my purely earthly music; to gain from her some knowledge of
+the mood of that holier, heavenly expression, so that at last I might
+be able in some degree to speak to this exile the language of the home
+which she loved; that we, by holding commune in this language, might
+rise together to a higher spiritual realm, and that she in her solitude
+might receive at least some associate.
+
+So I proposed to her to come back and stay with me again. She consented
+at once.
+
+Before that memorable evening I purified my heart by fasting and prayer.
+I was like one who was seeking to ascend into heaven to take part in
+that celestial communion, to join in the New Song, the music of the
+angels.
+
+By fasting and prayer I sought so to ascend, and to find thoughts and
+fit utterance for those thoughts. I looked upon my office as similar to
+that of the holy prophets of old. I felt that I had a power of utterance
+if the Divine One would only inspire.
+
+I fasted and prayed that so I might reduce this grosser material frame,
+and sharpen and quicken every nerve, and stimulate every fibre of the
+brain. So alone could I most nearly approach to the commune of spirits.
+Thus had those saints and prophets of old done when they had entered
+upon the search after this communion, and they had received their
+reward, even the visitation of angels and the vision of the blessed.
+
+A prophet--yes--now, in these days, it is left for the prophet to utter
+forth his inspiration by no other way than that of music.
+
+So I fasted and prayed. I took up the words from the holy priesthood,
+and I said, as they say:
+
+Munda cor meum, ac labia mea, Omnipotens Deus, qui labia Isaiae
+prophetae, calculo mundasti ignito!
+
+For so Isaiah had been exalted till he heard the language of heaven, the
+music of the seraphim.
+
+She, my divinity, my adored, enshrined again in my house, bore herself
+as before--kind to me and gentle beyond all expression, but with
+thoughts of her own that placed between us a gulf as wide as that which
+separates the mortal from the immortal.
+
+On that evening she was with me in the parlor which looks out upon the
+Northwest Arm. The moon shone down there, the dark, rocky hills on the
+opposite side rose in heavy masses. The servants were away in the city.
+We were alone.
+
+Ah, my Cremona! if a material instrument were ever able to utter forth
+sounds to which immortals might listen, thou, best gift of my father,
+thou canst utter them!
+
+"You are pale," said she, for she was always kindly and affectionate as
+a mother with a child, as a guardian angel with his ward. "You are pale.
+You always forget yourself for others, and now you suffer anxiety for
+me. Do not suffer. I have my consolations."
+
+I did not make any reply, but took my Cremona, and sought to lift up all
+my soul to a level with hers, to that lofty realm where her spirit ever
+wandered, that so I might not be comfortless. She started at the first
+tone that I struck forth, and looked at me with her large, earnest eyes.
+I found my own gaze fixed on hers, rapt and entranced. Now there came
+at last the inspiration so longed for, so sought for. It came from where
+her very soul looked forth into mine, out of the glory of her lustrous,
+spiritual eyes. They grew brighter with an almost immortal radiance, and
+all my heart rose up till it seemed ready to burst in the frenzy of that
+inspired moment.
+
+Now I felt the spirit of prophecy, I felt the afflatus of the inspired
+sibyl or seer, and the voice of music which for a lifetime I had sought
+to utter forth now at last sounded as I longed that it should sound.
+
+I exulted in that sound. I knew that at last I had caught the tone, and
+from her. I knew its meaning and exulted, as the poet or the musician
+must always exult when some idea sublimer than any which he has ever
+known is wafted over his upturned spiritual gaze.
+
+She shared my exaltation. There came over her face swiftly, like the
+lightning flash, an expression of surprise and joy. So the face of the
+exile lightens up at the throbbing of his heart, when, in some foreign
+land, he suddenly and unexpectedly hears the sound of his own language.
+So his eyes light up, and his heart beats faster, and even amidst the
+very longing of his soul after home, the desire after that home is
+appeased by these its most hallowed associations.
+
+And the full meaning of that eloquent gaze of hers as her soul looked
+into mine became all apparent to me. "Speak on," it said; "sound on, oh
+strains of the language of my home! Unheard so long, now heard at last."
+
+I knew that I was comprehended. Now all the feelings of the melancholy
+months came rushing over my heart, and all the holiest ideas which had
+animated my life came thronging into my mind, bursting forth into tones,
+as though of their own accord, involuntarily, as words come forth in a
+dream.
+
+"Oh thou," I said, in that language which my own lips could not
+utter--"oh thou whom I saved from the tomb, the life to which I restored
+thee is irksome; but there remains a life to which at last thou shalt
+attain.
+
+"Oh thou," I said, "whose spirit moves among the immortals, I am mortal
+yet immortal! My soul seeks commune with them. I yearn after that
+communion. Life here on earth is not more dear to me than to thee. Help
+me to rise above it. Thou hast been on high, show me too the way.
+
+"Oh thou," I said, "who hast seen things ineffable, impart to me thy
+confidence. Let me know thy secret. Receive me as the companion of thy
+soul. Shut not thyself up in solitude. Listen, I can speak thy language.
+
+"Attend," I cried, "for it is not for nothing that the Divine One
+has sent thee back. Live not these mortal days in loneliness and in
+uselessness. Regard thy fellow-mortals and seek to bless them. Thou hast
+learned the mystery of the highest. Let me be thine interpreter. All
+that thou hast learned I will communicate to man.
+
+"Rise up," I cried, "to happiness and to labor. Behold! I give thee a
+purpose in life. Blend thy soul with mine, and let me utter thy thoughts
+so that men shall hear and understand. For I know that the highest truth
+of highest Heaven means nothing more than love. Gather up all thy love,
+let it flow forth to thy fellow-men. This shall be at once the labor and
+the consolation of thy life."
+
+Now all this, and much more--far more--was expressed in the tones that
+flowed from my Cremona. It was all in my heart. It came forth. It was
+apprehended by her. I saw it, I knew it, and I exulted. Her eyes dilated
+more widely--my words were not unworthy of her hearing. I then was able
+to tell something which could rouse her from her stupor. Oh, Music!
+Divine Music! What power thou hast over the soul!
+
+There came over her face an expression which I never saw before; one of
+peace ineffable--the peace that passeth understanding. Ah me! I seemed
+to draw her to myself. For she rose and walked toward me. And a great
+calm came over my own soul. My Cremona spoke of peace--soft, sweet, and
+deep; the profound peace that dwelleth in the soul which has its hope
+in fruition. The tone widened into sweet modulation--sweet beyond all
+expression.
+
+She was so close that she almost touched me. Her eyes were still fixed
+on mine. Tears were there, but not tears of sorrow. Her face was so
+close to mine that my strength left me. My arms dropped downward. The
+music was over.
+
+[Illustration: "I DID NOT MAKE ANY REPLY, BUT TOOK MY CREMONA, AND
+SOUGHT TO LIFT UP ALL MY SOUL TO A LEVEL WITH HERS."]
+
+She held out her hand to me. I caught it in both of mine, and wet it
+with my tears.
+
+"Paolo," said she, in a voice of musical tone; "Paolo, you are already
+one of us. You speak our language.
+
+"You have taught me something which flows from love--duty. Yes, we
+will labor together; and they who live on high will learn even in their
+radiant home to envy us poor mortals."
+
+I said not a word, but knelt; and holding her hand still, I looked up at
+her in grateful adoration.
+
+November 28.--For the last three months I have lived in heaven. She
+is changed. Music has reconciled her to exile. She has found one who
+speaks, though weakly, the language of that home.
+
+We hold together through this divine medium a lofty spirited
+intercourse. I learn from her of that starry world in which for a brief
+time she was permitted to dwell. Her seraphic thoughts have become
+communicated to me. I have made them my own, and all my spirit has risen
+to a higher altitude.
+
+So I have at last received that revelation for which I longed, and the
+divine thoughts with which she has inspired me I will make known to the
+world. How? Description is inadequate, but it is enough to say that I
+have decided upon an Opera as the best mode of making known these ideas.
+
+I have reported to one of those classical themes which, though as old as
+civilization, are yet ever new, because they are truth.
+
+My Opera is on the theme of Prometheus. It refers to Prometheus
+Delivered. My idea is derived from her. Prometheus represents Divine
+Love--since he is the god who suffers unendurable agonies through his
+love for man. Zeus represents the old austere god of the sects and
+creeds--the gloomy God of Vengeance--the stern--the inexorable--the
+cruel.
+
+Love endures through the ages, but at last triumphs. The chief agent
+in his triumph is Athene. She represents Wisdom, which, by its life and
+increase, at last dethrones the God of Vengeance and enthrones the God
+of Love.
+
+For so the world goes on; and thus it shall be that Human Understanding,
+which I have personified under Athene, will at last exalt Divine Love
+over all, and cast aside its olden adoration of Divine Vengeance.
+
+I am trying to give to my Opera the severe simplicity of the classical
+form, yet at the same time to pervade it all with the warm atmosphere of
+love in its widest sense. It opens with a chorus of seraphim. Prometheus
+laments; but the chief part is that of Athene. On that I have exhausted
+myself.
+
+But where can I get a voice that can adequately render my
+thoughts--_our_ thoughts? Where is Bice? She alone has this voice; she
+alone has the power of catching and absorbing into her own mind the
+ideas which I form; and with it all, she alone could express them.
+I would wander over the earth to find her. But perhaps she is in
+a luxurious home, where her associates would not listen to such a
+proposal.
+
+Patience! perhaps Bice may at last bring her marvelous voice to my aid.
+
+December 15.--Every day our communion has grown more exalted. She
+breathes upon me the atmosphere of that radiant world, and fills my soul
+with rapture. I live in a sublime enthusiasm. We hold intercourse by
+means of music. We stand upon a higher plane than that of common
+men. She has raised me there, and has made me to be a partaker in her
+thoughts.
+
+Now I begin to understand something of the radiant world to which she
+was once for a brief time borne. I know her lost joys; I share in her
+longings. In me, as in her, there is a deep, unquenchable thirst after
+those glories that are present there. All here seems poor and mean. No
+material pleasure can for a moment allure.
+
+I live in a frenzy. My soul is on fire. Music is my sole thought and
+utterance. Colonel Despard thinks that I am mad. My friends here pity
+me. I smile within myself when I think of pity being given by them to
+me. Kindly souls! could they but have one faint idea of the unspeakable
+joys to which I have attained!
+
+My Cremona is my voice. It expresses all things for me. Ah, sweet
+companion of my soul's flight! my Guide, my Guardian Angel, my Inspirer!
+had ever before two mortals while on earth a lot like ours? Who
+else besides us in this life ever learned the joys of pure spiritual
+communion? We rise on high together. Our souls are borne up in company.
+When we hold commune we cease to be mortals.
+
+My Opera is finished. The radiancy of that Divine Love which has
+inundated all the being of Edith has been imparted to me in some measure
+sufficient to enable me to breathe forth to human ears tones which have
+been caught from immortal voices. She has given me ideas. I have made
+them audible and intelligible to men.
+
+I have had one performance of my work, or rather our work, for it is all
+hers. Hers are the thoughts, mine is only the expression.
+
+I sought out a place of solitude in which I might perform undisturbed
+and without interruption the theme which I have tried to unfold.
+
+Opposite my house is a wild, rocky shore covered with the primeval
+woods. Here in one place there rises a barren rock, perfectly bare of
+verdure, which is called Mount Misery. I chose his place as the spot
+where I might give my rehearsal.
+
+She was the audience--I was the orchestra--we two were alone.
+
+Mount Misery is one barren rock without a blade of grass on all its dark
+iron-like surface. Around it is a vast accumulation of granite boulders
+and vast rocky ledges. The trees are stunted, the very ferns can
+scarcely find a place to grow.
+
+It was night. There was not a cloud in the sky. The moon shone with
+marvelous lustre.
+
+Down in front of us lay the long arm of the sea that ran up between us
+and the city. On the opposite side were woods, and beyond them rose the
+citadel, on the other side of which the city lay nestling at its base
+like those Rhenish towns which lie at the foot of feudal castles.
+
+On the left hand all was a wilderness; on the right, close by, was a
+small lake, which seemed like a sheet of silver in the moon's rays.
+Farther on lay the ocean, stretching in its boundless extent away to
+the horizon. There lay islands and sand-banks with light-houses.
+There, under the moon, lay a broad path of golden light--molten
+gold--unruffled--undisturbed in that dead calm.
+
+My Opera begins with an Alleluia Chorus. I have borrowed words from the
+Angel Song at the opening of "Faust" for my score. But the music has an
+expression of its own, and the words are feeble; and the only comfort
+is, that these words will be lost in the triumph strain of the tones
+that accompany them.
+
+She was with me, exulting where I was exultant, sad where I was
+sorrowful; still with her air of Guide and Teacher. She is my Egeria.
+She is my Inspiring Muse. I invoke her when I sing.
+
+But my song carried her away. Her own thoughts expressed by my utterance
+were returned to her, and she yielded herself up altogether to their
+power.
+
+Ah me! there is one language common to all on earth, and to all in
+heaven, and that is music.
+
+I exulted then on that bare, blasted rock. I triumphed. She joined me in
+it all. We exulted together. We triumphed. We mourned, we rejoiced, we
+despaired, we hoped, we sung alleluias in our hearts. The very winds
+were still. The very moon seemed to stay her course. All nature was
+hushed.
+
+She stood before me, white, slender, aerial, like a spirit from on high,
+as pure, as holy, as stainless. Her soul and mine were blended. We moved
+to one common impulse. We obeyed one common motive.
+
+What is this? Is it love? Yes; but not as men call love. Ours is
+heavenly love, ardent, but yet spiritual; intense, but without passion;
+a burning love like that of the cherubim; all-consuming, all-engrossing,
+and enduring for evermore.
+
+Have I ever told her my admiration? Yes; but not in words. I have told
+her so in music, in every tone, in every strain. She knows that I am
+hers. She is my divinity, my muse, my better genius--the nobler half of
+my soul.
+
+I have laid all my spirit at her feet, as one prostrates himself before
+a divinity. She has accepted that adoration and has been pleased.
+
+We are blended. We are one, but not after an earthly fashion, for never
+yet have I even touched her hand in love. It is our spirits, our real
+selves--not our merely visible selves--that love; yet that love is so
+intense that I would die for evermore if my death could make her life
+more sweet.
+
+She has heard all this from my Cremona.
+
+Here, as we stood under the moon, I thought her a spirit with a mortal
+lover. I recognized the full meaning of the sublime legend of Numa and
+Egeria. The mortal aspires in purity of heart, and the immortal comes
+down and assists and responds to his aspirations.
+
+Our souls vibrated in unison to the expression of heavenly thoughts. We
+threw ourselves into the rapture of the hour. We trembled, we thrilled,
+till at last frail mortal nature could scarcely endure the intensity of
+that perfect joy.
+
+So we came to the end. The end is a chorus of angels. They sing the
+divinest of songs that is written in Holy Revelation. All the glory of
+that song reaches its climax in the last strain:
+
+"And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes!"
+
+We wept together. But we dried our tears and went home, musing on that
+"tearless eternity" which lies before us.
+
+Morning is dawning as I write, and all the feeling of my soul can be
+expressed in one word, the sublimest of all words, which is intelligible
+to many of different languages and different races. I will end with
+this:
+
+"Alleluia!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+
+THIS MUST END.
+
+The note which accompanied Langhetti's journal was as follows:
+
+"HALIFAX, December 18, 1848.
+
+"TERESUOLA VIA DOLCISSIMA,--I send you my journal, _sorella carissima_.
+I have been silent for a long time. Forgive me. I have been sad and in
+affliction. But affliction has turned to joy, and I have learned things
+unknown before.
+
+"_Teresina mia_, I am coming back to England immediately. You may expect
+to see me at any time during the next three months. _She_ will be with
+me; but so sensitive is she--so strange would she be to you--that I do
+not know whether it will be well for you to see her or not. I dare not
+let her be exposed to the gaze of any one unknown to her. Yet, sweetest
+_sorellina_, perhaps I may be able to tell her that I have a dearest
+sister, whose heart is love, whose nature is noble, and who could treat
+her with tenderest care.
+
+"I intend to offer my Opera to the world at London. I will be my own
+impresario. Yet I want one thing, and that is a Voice. Oh for a Voice
+like that of Bice! But it is idle to wish for her.
+
+"Never have I heard any voice like hers, my Teresina. God grant that I
+may find her!
+
+"Expect soon and suddenly to see your most loving brother,
+
+"PAOLO."
+
+Mrs. Thornton showed this note to Despard the next time they met. He had
+read the journal in the mean time.
+
+"So he is coming back?" said he.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And with this marvelous girl?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"She seems to me like a spirit."
+
+"And to me."
+
+"Paolo's own nature is so lofty and so spiritual that one like her is
+intelligible to him. Happy is it for her that he found her."
+
+"Paolo is more spiritual than human. He has no materialism. He is
+spiritual. I am of the earth, earthy; but my brother is a spirit
+imprisoned, who chafes at his bonds and longs to be free. And think what
+Paolo has done for her in his sublime devotion!"
+
+"I know others who would do as much," said Despard, in a voice that
+seemed full of tears; "I know others who, like him, would go to the
+grave to rescue the one they loved, and make all life one long devotion.
+I know others," he continued, "who would gladly die, if by dying they
+could gain what he has won--the possession of the one they love. Ah me!
+Paolo is happy and blessed beyond all men. Between him and her there is
+no insuperable barrier, no gulf as deep as death."
+
+Despard spoke impetuously, but suddenly checked himself.
+
+"I received," said he, "by the last mail a letter from my uncle in
+Halifax. He is ordered off to the Cape of Good Hope. I wrote him a very
+long time ago, as I told you, asking him to tell me without reserve all
+that he knew about my father's death. I told him plainly that there was
+a mystery about it which I was determined to solve. I reproached him for
+keeping it secret from me, and reminded him that I was now a mature man;
+and that he had no right nor any reason to maintain any farther secrecy.
+I insisted on knowing all, no matter what it might be.
+
+"I received his letter by the last mail. Here it is;" and he handed it
+to her. "Read it when you get home. I have written a few words to you,
+little playmate, also. He has told me all. Did you know this before?"
+
+"Yes, Lama," said Mrs. Thornton, with a look of sorrowful sympathy.
+
+"You knew all my father's fate?"
+
+"Yes, Lama."
+
+"And you kept it secret?"
+
+"Yes, Lama. How could I bear to tell you and give you pain?"
+
+Her voice trembled as she spoke. Despard looked at her with an
+indescribable expression.
+
+"One thought," said he, slowly, "and one feeling engrosses all my
+nature, and even this news that I have heard can not drive it away.
+Even the thought of my father's fate, so dark and so mysterious, can
+not weaken the thoughts that have all my life been supreme. Do you know,
+little playmate, what those thoughts are?"
+
+She was silent. Despard's hand wandered over the keys. They always spoke
+in low tones, which were almost whispers, tones which were inaudible
+except to each other. And Mrs. Thornton had to bow her head close to his
+to hear what he said.
+
+"I must go," said Despard, after a pause, "and visit Brandon again. I
+do not know what I can do, but my father's death requires further
+examination. This man Potts is intermingled with it. My uncle gives dark
+hints. I must make an examination."
+
+"And you are going away again?" said Mrs. Thornton, sadly.
+
+Despard sighed.
+
+"Would it not be better," said he, as he took her hand in his--"would
+it not be better for you, little playmate, if I went away from you
+forever?"
+
+She gave him one long look of sad reproach. Then tears filled her eyes.
+
+"This can not go on forever," she murmured. "It must come to that at
+last!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+
+BEATRICE'S JOURNAL.
+
+October 30, 1848.--My recovery has been slow, and I am still far from
+well. I stay in my room almost altogether. Why should I do otherwise?
+Day succeeds day, and each day is a blank.
+
+My window looks on the sea, and I can sit there and feed my heart on the
+memories which that sea calls up. It is company for me in my solitude.
+It is music, though I can not hear its voice. Oh, how I should rejoice
+if I could get down by its margin and touch its waters! Oh how I should
+rejoice if those waters would flow over me forever!
+
+November 15.--Why I should write any thing now I do not know. This
+uneventful life offers nothing to record. Mrs. Compton is as timid, as
+gentle, and as affectionate as ever. Philips, poor, timorous, kindly
+soul, sends me flowers by her. Poor wretch, how did he ever get here?
+How did Mrs. Compton?
+
+December 28.--In spite of my quiet habits and constant seclusion I
+feel that I am under some surveillance, not from Mrs. Compton, but from
+others. I have been out twice during the last fortnight and perceived
+this plainly. Men in the walks who were at work quietly followed me
+with their eyes. I see that I am watched. I did not know that I was of
+sufficient importance.
+
+Yesterday a strange incident occurred. Mrs. Compton was with me, and by
+some means or other my thoughts turned to one about whom I have often
+tried to form conjectures--my mother. How could she ever have married a
+man like my father? What could she have been like? Suddenly I turned to
+Mrs. Compton, and said:
+
+"Did you ever see my mother?"
+
+What there could have been in my question I can not tell, but she
+trembled and looked at me with greater fear in her face than I had ever
+seen there before. This time she seemed to be afraid of me. I myself
+felt a cold chill run through my frame. That awful thought which I had
+once before known flashed across my mind.
+
+"Oh!" cried Mrs. Compton, suddenly, "oh, don't look at me so; don't look
+at me so!"
+
+"I don't understand you," said I, slowly.
+
+She hid her face in her hands and began to weep. I tried to soothe her,
+and with some success, for after a time she regained her composure.
+Nothing more was said. But since then one thought, with a long series of
+attendant thoughts, has weighed down my mind. _Who am I? What am I? What
+am I doing here? What do these people want with me? Why do they guard
+me?_
+
+I can write no more.
+
+January 14, 1849.--The days drag on. Nothing new has happened. I am
+tormented by strange thoughts. I see this plainly that there are times
+when I inspire fear in this house. Why is this?
+
+Since that day, many, many months ago, when they all looked at me in
+horror, I have seen none of them. Now Mrs. Compton has exhibited the
+same fear. There is a restraint over her. Yes, she too fears me. Yet she
+is kind; and poor Philips never forgets to send me flowers.
+
+I could smile at the idea of any one fearing me, if it were not for the
+terrible thoughts that arise within my mind.
+
+February 12.--Of late all my thoughts have changed, and I have been
+inspired with an uncontrollable desire to escape. I live here in luxury,
+but the meanest house outside would be far preferable. Every hour here
+is a sorrow, every day a misery. Oh, me! if I could but escape!
+
+Once in that outer world I care not what might happen. I would be
+willing to do menial labor to earn my bread. Yet it need not come to
+that. The lessons which Paolo taught me have been useful in more ways
+than one. I know that I at least need not be dependent.
+
+He used to say to me that if I chose to go on the stage and sing, I
+could do something better than gain a living or make a fortune. He said
+I could interpret the ideas of the Great Masters, and make myself a
+blessing to the world.
+
+Why need I stay here when I have a voice which he used to deign to
+praise? He did not praise it because he loved me; but I think he loved
+me because he loved my voice. He loves my voice better than me. And
+that other one! Ah me--will he ever hear my voice again? Did he know how
+sweet his voice was to me? Oh me! its tones ring in my ears and in my
+heart night and day.
+
+March 5.--My resolution is formed. This may be my last entry. I pray to
+God that it may be. I will trust in him and fly. At night they can not
+be watching me. There is a door at the north end, the key of which is
+always in it. I can steal out by that direction and gain my liberty.
+
+Oh Thou who hearest prayer, grant deliverance to the captive!
+
+Farewell now, my journal; I hope never to see you again! Yet I will
+secrete you in this chamber, for if I am compelled to return I may be
+glad to seek you again.
+
+March 6.--Not yet! Not yet!
+
+Alas! and since yesterday what things have happened! Last night I was to
+make my attempt. They dined at eight, and I waited for them to retire. I
+waited long. They were longer than usual.
+
+[Illustration: "OH!" CRIED MRS. COMPTON SUDDENLY, "OH, DON'T LOOK AT ME
+SO; DON'T LOOK AT ME SO!"]
+
+At about ten o'clock Mrs. Compton came into my room, with as frightened
+a face as usual. "They want you," said she.
+
+I knew whom she meant. "Must I go?" said I.
+
+"Alas, dear child, what can you do? Trust in God. He can save you."
+
+"He alone can save me," said I, "if He will. It has come to this that I
+have none but Him in whom I can trust."
+
+She began to weep. I said no more, but obeyed the command and went down.
+
+Since I was last there months had passed--months of suffering and
+anguish in body and mind. The remembrance of my last visit there came
+over me as I entered. Yet I did not tremble or falter. I crossed the
+threshold and entered the room, and stood before them in silence.
+
+I saw the three men who had been there before. _He_ and his son, and the
+man Clark, They had all been drinking. Their voices were loud and their
+laughter boisterous as I approached. When I entered they became quiet,
+and all three stared at me. At last _he_ said to his son,
+
+"She don't look any fatter, does she, Johnnie?"
+
+"She gets enough to eat, any how," answered John.
+
+"She's one of them kind," said the man Clark, "that don't fatten up. But
+then, Johnnie, you needn't talk--you haven't much fat yourself, lad."
+
+"Hard work," said John, whereupon the others, thinking it an excellent
+joke, burst into hoarse laughter. This put them into great good-humor
+with themselves, and they began to turn their attention to me again. Not
+a word was said for some time.
+
+"Can you dance?" said he, at last, speaking to me abruptly.
+
+"Yes," I answered.
+
+"Ah! I thought so. I paid enough for your education, any how. It would
+be hard if you hadn't learned any thing else except squalling and
+banging on the piano."
+
+I said nothing.
+
+"Why do you stare so, d--n you?" he cried, looking savagely at me.
+
+I looked at the floor.
+
+"Come now," said he. "I sent for you to see if you can dance. Dance!"
+
+I stood still. "Dance!" he repeated with an oath. "Do you hear?"
+
+"I can not," said I.
+
+"Perhaps you want a partner," continued he, with a sneer. "Here,
+Johnnie, go and help her."
+
+"I'd rather not," said John.
+
+"Clark, you try it--you were always gay," and he gave a hoarse laugh.
+
+"Yes, Clark," cried John. "Now's your chance."
+
+Clark hesitated for a moment, and then came toward me. I stood with my
+arms folded, and looked at him fixedly. I was not afraid. For I thought
+in that hour of who these men were, and what they were. My life was in
+their hands, but I held life cheap. I rose above the fear of the moment,
+and felt myself their superior.
+
+Clark came up to me and stopped. I did not move.
+
+"Curse her!" said he. "I'd as soon dance with a ghost. She looks like
+one, any how."
+
+_He_ laughed boisterously.
+
+"He's afraid. He's getting superstitious!" he cried. "What do you think
+of that, Johnnie?"
+
+"Well," drawled John, "it's the first time I ever heard of Clark being
+afraid of any thing."
+
+These words seemed to sting Clark to the quick.
+
+"Will you dance?" said he, in a hoarse voice.
+
+I made no answer.
+
+"Curse her! make her dance!" _he_ shouted, starting up from his chair.
+"Don't let her bully you, you fool!"
+
+Clark stepped toward me and laid one heavy hand on mine, while he
+attempted to pass the other round my waist. At the horror of his
+polluting touch all my nature seemed transformed. I started back. There
+came something like a frenzy over me. I neither knew nor cared what I
+said.
+
+Yet I spoke slowly, and it was not like passion. All that I had read in
+that manuscript was in my heart, the very spirit of the murdered Despard
+seemed to inspire me.
+
+"Touch me not," I said. "Trouble me not. I am near enough to Death
+already. And you," I cried, stretching out my hand to him, "THUG! never
+again will I obey one command of yours. Kill me if you choose, and send
+me after Colonel Despard."
+
+These words seemed to blast and wither them. Clark shrank back. _He_
+gave a groan, and clutched the arm of his chair. John looked in fear
+from one to the other, and stammered with an oath:
+
+"She knows all! Mrs. Compton told her."
+
+"Mrs. Compton never knew it, about the Thug," said he, and then looked
+up fearfully at me. They all looked once more. Again that fear which I
+had seen in them before was shown upon their faces.
+
+I looked upon these wretches as though I had surveyed them from some
+lofty height. That one of them was my father was forgotten. I seemed to
+utter words which were inspired within me.
+
+"Colonel Despard has spoken to me from the dead, and told me all," said
+I. "I am appointed to avenge him."
+
+I turned and went out of the room. As I left I heard John's voice:
+
+"If she's the devil himself, as I believe she is," he cried, "_she's got
+to be took down!_"
+
+I reached my room. I lay awake all night long. A fever seemed raging
+in all my veins. Now with a throbbing head and trembling hands I write
+this. Will these be my last words? God grant it, and give me safe
+deliverance. Amen! amen!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+
+SMITHERS & CO.
+
+The Brandon Bank, John Potts, President, had one day risen suddenly
+before the eyes of the astonished county and filled all men with curious
+speculations.
+
+John Potts had been detestable, but now, as a Bank President, he began
+to be respectable, to say the least. Wealth has a charm about it which
+fascinates all men, even those of the oldest families, and now that this
+parvenu showed that he could easily employ his superfluous cash in a
+banking company, people began to look upon his name as still undoubtedly
+vulgar, yet as undoubtedly possessing the ring of gold.
+
+His first effort to take the county by storm, by an ordinary invitation
+to Brandon Hall, had been sneered at every where. But this bank was
+a different thing. Many began to think that perhaps Potts had been an
+ill-used and slandered man. He had been Brandon's agent, but who could
+prove any thing against him after all?
+
+There were very many who soon felt the need of the peculiar help which
+a bank can give if it only chooses. Those who went there found Potts
+marvelously accommodating. He did not seem so grasping or so suspicious
+as other bankers. They got what they wanted, laughed at his pleasant
+jokes, and assured every body that he was a much-belied man.
+
+Surely it was by some special inspiration that Potts hit upon this idea
+of a bank; if he wished to make people look kindly upon him, to "be to
+his faults a little blind, and to his virtues very kind," he could not
+have conceived any better or shorter way toward the accomplishment of so
+desirable a result.
+
+So lenient were these people that they looked upon all those who took
+part in the bank with equal indulgence. The younger Potts was considered
+as a very clever man, with a dry, caustic humor, but thoroughly
+good-hearted. Clark, one of the directors, was regarded as bluff,
+and shrewd, and cautious, but full of the milk of human kindness; and
+Philips, the cashier, was universally liked on account of his gentle,
+obsequious manner.
+
+So wide-spread and so active were the operations of this bank that
+people stood astonished and had nothing to say. The amount of their
+accommodations was enormous. Those who at first considered it a
+mushroom concern soon discovered their mistake; for the Brandon Bank
+had connections in London which seemed to give the command of unlimited
+means, and any sum whatever that might be needed was at once advanced
+where the security was at all reliable. Nor was the bank particular
+about security. John Potts professed to trust much to people's faces and
+to their character, and there were times when he would take the security
+without looking at it, or even decline it and be satisfied with the
+name.
+
+In less than a year the bank had succeeded in gaining the fullest
+confidence even of those who had at first been most skeptical, and
+John Potts had grown to be considered without doubt one of the most
+considerable men in the county.
+
+One day in March John Potts was sitting in the parlor of the bank when a
+gentleman walked in who seemed to be about sixty years of age. He had a
+slight stoop, and carried a gold-headed cane. He was dressed in black,
+had gray hair, and a very heavy gray beard and mustache.
+
+"Have I the honor of addressing Mr. Potts?" said the stranger, in a
+peculiarly high, shrill voice.
+
+"I'm Mr. Potts," said the other.
+
+The stranger thereupon drew a letter from his pocket-book and handed it
+to Potts. The letter was a short one, and the moment Potts had read it
+he sprang up and held out his hand eagerly.
+
+"Mr. Smithers, Sir!--you're welcome, Sir, I'm sure, Sir! Proud and
+happy, Sir, to see you, I'm sure!" said Potts, with great volubility.
+
+Mr. Smithers, however, did not seem to see his hand, but seated himself
+leisurely on a chair, and looked for a moment at the opposite wall like
+one in thought.
+
+He was a singular-looking old man. His skin was fresh; there was a
+grand, stern air upon his brow when it was in repose. The lower part of
+his face was hidden by his beard, and its expression was therefore lost.
+His eyes, however, were singularly large and luminous, although he wore
+spectacles and generally looked at the floor.
+
+"I have but recently returned from a tour," said he, in the same voice;
+"and my junior partner has managed all the business in my absence, which
+has lasted more than a year. I had not the honor of being acquainted
+with your banking-house when I left, and as I had business up this way I
+thought I would call on you."
+
+"Proud, Sir, and most happy to welcome you to our modest parlor," said
+Potts, obsequiously. "This is a pleasure--indeed I may say, Sir, a
+privilege--which I have long wished to have. In fact, I have never seen
+your junior partner, Sir, any more than yourself. I have only seen your
+agents, Sir, and have gone on and done my large business with you by
+writing."
+
+Mr. Smithers bowed.
+
+"Quite so," said he. "We have so many connections in all parts of
+the world that it is impossible to have the pleasure of a personal
+acquaintance with them all. There are some with whom we have much larger
+transactions than yourself whom I have never seen."
+
+"Indeed, Sir!" exclaimed Potts, with great surprise. "Then you must do a
+larger business than I thought."
+
+"We do a large business," said Mr. Smithers, thoughtfully.
+
+"And all over the world, you said. Then you must be worth millions."
+
+"Oh, of course, one can not do a business like ours, that commands
+money, without a large capital."
+
+"Are there many who do a larger business than I do?"
+
+"Oh yes. In New York the house of Peyton Brothers do a business of ten
+times the amount--yes, twenty times. In San Francisco a new house, just
+started since the gold discoveries, has done a business with us
+almost as large. In Bombay Messrs. Nickerson, Bolton, & Co. are our
+correspondents; in Calcutta Messrs. Hostermann, Jennings, & Black;
+in Hong Kong Messrs. Naylor & Tibbetts; in Sydney Messrs. Sandford &
+Perley. Besides these, we have correspondents through Europe and in all
+parts of England who do a much larger business than yours. But I thought
+you were aware of this," said Mr. Smithers, looking with a swift glance
+at Potts.
+
+"Of course, of course," said Potts, hastily: "I knew your business was
+enormous, but I thought our dealings with you were considerable."
+
+"Oh, you are doing a snug business," said Smithers, in a patronizing
+tone. "It is our custom whenever we have correspondents who are sound
+men to encourage them to the utmost. This is the reason why you have
+always found us liberal and prompt."
+
+"You have done great service, Sir," said Potts. "In fact, you have made
+the Brandon Bank what it is to-day."
+
+"Well," said Smithers, "we have agents every where; we heard that this
+bank was talked about, and knowing the concern to be in sure hands we
+took it up. My Junior has made arrangements with you which he says have
+been satisfactory."
+
+"Very much so to me," replied Potts. "You have always found the money."
+
+"And you, I suppose, have furnished the securities."
+
+"Yes, and a precious good lot of them you are now holding."
+
+"I dare say," said Smithers: "for my part I have nothing to do with the
+books. I merely attend to the general affairs, and trust to my Junior
+for particulars."
+
+"And you don't know the exact state of our business?" said Potts, in a
+tone of disappointment.
+
+"No. How should I? The only ones with which I am familiar are our
+American, European, and Eastern agencies. Our English correspondents are
+managed by my Junior."
+
+"You must be one of the largest houses in London," said Potts, in a tone
+of deep admiration.
+
+"Oh yes."
+
+"Strange I never heard of you till two years or so."
+
+"Very likely."
+
+"There was a friend of mine who was telling me something about some
+Sydney merchants who were sending consignments of wool to you. Compton &
+Brandon. Do you know them?"
+
+"I have heard my Junior speak of them."
+
+"You were in Sydney, were you not?"
+
+"Yes, on my last tour I touched there."
+
+"Do you know Compton & Brandon?"
+
+"I looked in to see them. I think Brandon is dead, isn't he? Drowned at
+sea--or something of that sort?" said Smithers, indifferently.
+
+"Yes," said Potts.
+
+"Are you familiar with the banking business?" asked Smithers, suddenly.
+
+"Well, no, not very. I haven't had much experience; but I'm growing into
+it."
+
+"Ah! I suppose your directors are good business men?"
+
+"Somewhat; but the fact is, I trust a good deal to my cashier."
+
+"Who is he?"
+
+"His name is Philips, a very clever man; a first-rate accountant."
+
+"That's right. Very much indeed depends on the cashier."
+
+"He is a most useful and reliable man."
+
+"Your business appears to be growing, from what I have heard."
+
+"Very fast indeed, Sir. Why, Sir, in another year I expect to control
+this whole county financially. There is no reason why I shouldn't. Every
+one of my moves is successful."
+
+"That is right. The true mode of success in a business like yours is
+boldness. That is the secret of my success. Perhaps you are not aware,"
+continued Mr. Smithers, in a confidential tone, "that I began with very
+little. A few thousands of pounds formed my capital. But my motto was
+boldness, and now I am worth I will not say how many millions. If you
+want to make money fast you must be bold."
+
+"Did you make your money by banking?" asked Potts, eagerly.
+
+"No. Much of it was made in that way, but I have embarked in all kinds
+of enterprises; foreign loans, railway scrip, and ventures in stock of
+all sorts. I have lost millions, but I have made ten times more than
+ever I lost. If you want to make money, you must go on the same plan."
+
+"Well, I'm sure," said Potts, "I'm bold enough. I'm enlarging my
+business every day in all directions."
+
+"That's right."
+
+"I control the county now, and hope in another year to do so in a
+different way."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"I'm thinking of setting up for Parliament--"
+
+"An excellent idea, if it will not injure the business."
+
+"Oh, it will not hurt it at all. Philips can manage it all under my
+directions. Besides, I don't mind telling a friend like you that this is
+the dream of my life."
+
+"A very laudable aim, no doubt, to those who have a genius for
+statesmanship. But that is a thing which is altogether out of my line.
+I keep to business. And now, as my time is limited, I must not stay
+longer. I will only add that my impressions are favorable about your
+bank, and you may rely upon us to any extent to co-operate with you in
+any sound enterprise. Go on and enlarge your business, and draw on
+us for what you want as before. If I were you I would embark all my
+available means in this bank."
+
+"Well, I'm gradually coming to that, I think," said Potts.
+
+"Then, when you get large deposits, as you must expect, that will give
+you additional capital to work on. The best way when you have a bank is
+to use your cash in speculating in stocks. Have you tried that yet?"
+
+"Yes, but not much."
+
+"If you wish any thing of that kind done we will do it for you."
+
+"But I don't know what are the best investments."
+
+"Oh, that is very easily found out. But if you can't learn, we will let
+you know. The Mexican Loan just now is the most promising. Some of
+the California companies are working quietly, and getting enormous
+dividends."
+
+"California?" said Potts; "that ought to pay."
+
+"Oh, there's nothing like it. I cleared nearly half a million in a few
+months."
+
+"A few months!" cried Potts, opening his eyes.
+
+"Yes, we have agents who keep us well up; and so, you know, we are able
+to speculate to the best advantage."
+
+"California!" said Potts, thoughtfully. "I should like to try that above
+all things. It has a good sound. It is like the chink of cash."
+
+"Yes, you get the pure gold out of that. There's nothing like it."
+
+"Do you know any chances for speculation there?"
+
+"Yes, one or two."
+
+"Would you have any objection to let me know?"
+
+"Not in the least--it will extend your business. I will ask my Junior to
+send you any particulars you may desire."
+
+"This California business must be the best there is, if all I hear is
+true."
+
+"You haven't heard the real truth."
+
+"Haven't I?" exclaimed Potts, in wonder. "I thought it was exaggerated."
+
+"I could tell you stories far more wonderful than any thing you have
+heard."
+
+"Tell me!" cried Potts, breathlessly.
+
+"Well," said Smithers, confidentially, "I don't mind telling you
+something which is known, I'm sorry to say, in certain circles in
+London, and is already being acted on. One-half of our fortune has been
+made in California operations."
+
+"You don't say so!"
+
+"You see I've always been bold," continued Smithers, with an air of
+still greater confidence. "I read some time since in one of Humboldt's
+books about gold being there. At the first news of the discovery I
+chartered a ship and went out at once. I took every thing that could be
+needed. On arriving at San Francisco, where there were already very many
+people, I sold the cargo at an enormous profit, and hired the ship as a
+warehouse at enormous prices. I then organized a mining company, and put
+a first-rate man at the head of it. They found a place on the Sacramento
+River where the gold really seems inexhaustible. I worked it for some
+months, and forwarded two millions sterling to London. Then I left, and
+my company is still working."
+
+"Why did you leave?" asked Potts, breathlessly.
+
+"Because I could make more money by being in London. My man there is
+reliable. I have bound him to us by giving him a share in the business.
+People soon found out that Smithers & Co. had made enormous sums of
+money in California, but they don't know exactly how. The immense
+expansion of our business during the last year has filled them with
+wonder. For you know every piece of gold that I sent home has been
+utilized by my Junior."
+
+Potts was silent, and sat looking in breathless admiration at this
+millionaire. All his thoughts were seen in his face. His whole heart was
+laid bare, and the one thing visible was an intense desire to share in
+that golden enterprise.
+
+"I have organized two companies on the same principle as the last. The
+shares are selling at a large premium in the London market. I take a
+leading part in each, and my name gives stability to the enterprise. If
+I find the thing likely to succeed I continue; if not, why, I can easily
+sell out. I am on the point of organizing a third company."
+
+"Are the shares taken up?" cried Potts, eagerly.
+
+"No, not yet."
+
+"Well, could I obtain some?"
+
+"I really can't say," replied Smithers. "You might make an application
+to my Junior. I do nothing whatever with the details. I don't know what
+plans or agreements he may have been making."
+
+"I should like exceedingly to take stock. How do the shares sell?"
+
+"The price is high, as we wish to confine our shareholders to the richer
+classes. We never put it at less than L1000 a share."
+
+"I would take any quantity."
+
+"I dare say some may be in the market yet," said Smithers, calmly. "They
+probably sell at a high premium though."
+
+"I'd pay it," said Potts.
+
+"Well, you may write and see; I know nothing about it."
+
+"And if they're all taken up, what then?"
+
+"Oh--then--I really don't know. Why can't you organize a company
+yourself?"
+
+"Well, you see, I don't know anything about the place."
+
+"True; that is a disadvantage. But you might find some people who do
+know."
+
+"That would be very difficult. I do not see how we could begin. And if I
+did find any one, how could I trust him?"
+
+"You'd have to do as I did--give him a share of the business."
+
+"It would be much better if I could get some stock in one of your
+companies. Your experience and credit would make it a success."
+
+"Yes, there is no doubt that our companies would all be successful since
+we have a man on the spot."
+
+"And that's another reason why I should prefer buying stock from you.
+You see I might form a company, but what could I do?"
+
+"Could not your cashier help you?"
+
+"No, not in any thing of that sort."
+
+"Well, I can say nothing about it. My Junior will tell you what chances
+there are."
+
+"But while I see you personally I should be glad if you would consent to
+give me a chance. Have you any objection?"
+
+"Oh no. I will mention your case the next time I write, if you wish
+it. Still I can not control the particular operations of the office.
+My control is supreme in general matters, and you see it would not be
+possible for me to interfere with the smaller details."
+
+"Still you might mention me."
+
+"I will do so," said Smithers, and taking out his pocket-book he
+prepared to write.
+
+"Let me see," said he, "your Christian name is--what?"
+
+"John--John Potts."
+
+"John Potts," repeated the other, as he wrote it down.
+
+Smithers rose. "You may continue to draw on us as before, and any
+purchases of stock which you wish will be made."
+
+Potts thanked him profusely. "I wish to see your cashier, to learn
+his mode of managing the accounts. Much depends on that, and a short
+conversation will satisfy me."
+
+"Certainly, Sir, certainly," said Potts, obsequiously. "Philips!" he
+called.
+
+Philips came in as timid and as shrinking as usual.
+
+"This is Mr. Smithers, the great Smithers of Smithers & Co., Bankers; he
+wishes to have a talk with you."
+
+Philips looked at the great man with deep respect and made an awkward
+bow.
+
+"You may come with me to my hotel," said Smithers; and with a slight bow
+to Potts he left the bank, followed by Philips.
+
+He went up stairs and into a large parlor on the second story, which
+looked into the street. He motioned Philips to a chair near the window,
+and seated himself in an arm-chair opposite.
+
+Smithers looked at the other with a searching glance, and said nothing
+for some time. His large, full eyes, as they fixed themselves on the
+face of the other, seemed to read his inmost thoughts and study every
+part of his weak and irresolute character.
+
+At length he said, abruptly, in a slow, measured voice, "Edgar Lawton!"
+
+At the sound of this name Philips started from his chair, and stood on
+his feet trembling. His face, always pale, now became ashen, his lips
+turned white, his jaw fell, his eyes seemed to start from their sockets.
+He stood for a few seconds, then sank back into a chair.
+
+Smithers eyed him steadfastly. "You see I know you," said he, after a
+time.
+
+Philips cast on him an imploring look.
+
+"The fact that I know your name," continued Smithers, "shows also that I
+must know something of your history. Do not forget that!"
+
+"My--my history?" faltered Philips.
+
+"Yes, your history. I know it all, wretched man! I knew your father whom
+you ruined, and whose heart you broke."
+
+Philips said not a word, but again turned an imploring face to this man.
+
+"I have brought you here to let you know that there is one who holds you
+in his power, and that one is myself. You think Potts or Clark have you
+at their mercy. Not so. I alone hold your fate in my hands. They dare
+not do any thing against you for fear of their own necks."
+
+[Illustration: "AT THE SOUND OF THIS NAME PHILIPS STARTED FROM HIS
+CHAIR, AND STOOD ON HIS FEET TREMBLING."]
+
+Philips looked up now in wonder, which was greater than his fear.
+
+"Why," he faltered, "you are Potts's friend. You got him to start the
+bank, and you have advanced him money."
+
+"You are the cashier," said Smithers, calmly. "Can you tell me how much
+the Brandon Bank owes Smithers & Co?"
+
+Philips looked at the other and hesitated.
+
+"Speak!"
+
+"Two hundred and eighty-nine thousand pounds."
+
+"And if Smithers & Co. chose to demand payment to-morrow, do you think
+the Brandon Bank would be prompt about it?"
+
+Philips shook his head.
+
+"Then you see that the man whom you fear is not so powerful as some
+others."
+
+"I thought you were his friend?"
+
+"Do you know who I am?"
+
+"Smithers & Co.," said Philips, wearily.
+
+"Well, let me tell you the plans of Smithers & Co. are beyond your
+comprehension. Whether they are friends to Potts or not, it seems that
+they are his creditors to an amount which it would be difficult for him
+to pay if they chose to demand it."
+
+Philips looked up. He caught sight of the eyes of Smithers, which blazed
+like two dark, fiery orbs as they were fastened upon him. He shuddered.
+
+"I merely wished to show you the weakness of the man whom you fear.
+Shall I tell you something else?"
+
+Philips looked up fearfully.
+
+"I have been in York, in Calcutta, and in Manilla: and I know what Potts
+did in each place. You look frightened. You have every reason to be so.
+I know what was done at York. I know that you were sent to Botany Bay.
+I know that you ran away from your father to India. I know your life
+there. I know how narrowly you escaped going on board the _Vishnu_, and
+being implicated in the Manilla murder. Madman that you were, why did
+you not take your poor mother and fly from these wretches forever?"
+
+Philips trembled from head to foot. He said not a word, but bowed his
+head upon his knees and wept.
+
+"Where is she now?" said Smithers, sternly. Philips mechanically raised
+his head, and pointed over toward Brandon Hall.
+
+"Is she confined against her will?"
+
+Philips shook his head.
+
+"She stays, then, through love of you?"
+
+Philips nodded.
+
+"Is any one else there?" said Smithers, after a pause, and in a strange,
+sad voice, in which there was a faltering tone which Philips, in his
+fright, did not notice.
+
+"Miss Potts," he said.
+
+"She is treated cruelly," said Smithers. "They say she is a prisoner?"
+
+Philips nodded.
+
+"Has she been sick?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"How long?"
+
+"Eight months, last year."
+
+"Is she well now?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Smithers bowed his head in silence, and put his hand on his heart.
+Philips watched him in an agony of fright, as though every instant he
+was apprehensive of some terrible calamity.
+
+"How is she?" continued Smithers, after a time. "Has she ever been happy
+since she went there?"
+
+Philips shook his head slowly and mournfully.
+
+"Does her father ever show her any affection?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"Does her brother?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"Is there any one who does?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Mrs. Compton."
+
+"Your mother?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I will not forget that. No, I will never forget that. Do you think that
+she is exposed to any danger?"
+
+"Miss Potts?"
+
+Smithers bowed.
+
+"I don't know. I sometimes fear so."
+
+"Of what kind?"
+
+"I don't know. Almost any horrible thing may happen in that horrible
+place."
+
+A pang of agony shot across the sombre brow of Smithers. He was silent
+for a long time.
+
+"Have you ever slighted her?" he asked at last.
+
+"Never," cried Philips. "I could worship her--"
+
+Smithers smiled upon him with a smile so sweet that it chased all
+Philips's fears away. He took courage and began to show more calm. "Fear
+nothing," said Smithers, in a gentle voice. "I see that in spite of your
+follies and crimes there is something good in you yet. You love your
+mother, do you not?"
+
+Tears came into Philips's eyes. He sighed. "Yes," he said, humbly.
+
+"And you are kind to _her_--that other one?"
+
+"I love her as my mother," said Philips, earnestly.
+
+Smithers again relapsed into silence for a long time. At last he looked
+up. Philips saw his eyes this time, no longer stern and wrathful, but
+benignant and indulgent.
+
+"You have been all your life under the power of merciless men," said he.
+"You have been led by them into folly and crime and suffering. Often you
+have been forced to act against your will. Poor wretch! I can save you,
+and I intend to do so in spite of yourself. You fear these masters of
+yours. You must know now that I, not they, am to be feared. They know
+your secret but dare not use it against you. I know it, and can use it
+if I choose. You have been afraid of them all your life. Fear them no
+longer, but fear me. These men whom you fear are in my power as well
+as you are. I know all their secrets--there is not a crime of theirs of
+which you know that I do not know also, and I know far more.
+
+"You must from this time forth be my agent. Smithers & Co. have agents
+in all parts of the world. You shall be their agent in Brandon Hall.
+You shall say nothing of this interview to any one, not even to your
+mother--you shall not dare to communicate with me unless you are
+requested, except about such things as I shall specify. If you dare to
+shrink in any one point from your duty, at that instant I will come down
+upon you with a heavy hand. You, too, are watched. I have other agents
+here in Brandon besides yourself. Many of those who go to the bank as
+customers are my agents. You can not be false without my knowing it;
+and when you are false, that moment you shall be handed over to the
+authorities. Do you hear?"
+
+The face of Smithers was mild, but his tone was stern. It was the
+warning of a just yet merciful master. All the timid nature of Philips
+bent in deep subjection before the powerful spirit of this man. He bowed
+his head in silence.
+
+"Whenever an order comes to you from Smithers & Co. you must obey: if
+you do not obey instantly whatever it is, it will be at the risk of your
+life. Do you hear?"
+
+Philips bowed.
+
+"There is only one thing now in which I wish you to do anything. You
+must send every month a notice directed to Mr. Smithers, Senior, about
+the health of _his daughter_. Should any sudden danger impend you must
+at once communicate it. You understand?"
+
+Philips bowed.
+
+"Once more I must warn you always to remember that I am your master.
+Fail in one single thing, and you perish. Obey me, and you shall be
+rewarded. Now go!"
+
+Philips rose, and, more dead than alive, tottered from the room.
+
+When he left Smithers locked the door. He then went to the window
+and stood looking at Brandon Hall, with his stern face softened into
+sadness. He hummed low words as he stood there--words which once had
+been sung far away.
+
+Among them were these, with which the strain ended:
+
+  "And the sad memory of our life below
+   Shall but unite us closer evermore;
+   No net of thine shall loose
+   Thee from the eternal bond,
+   Nor shall Revenge have power
+   To disunite us _there_!"
+
+With a sigh he sat down and buried his face in his hands. His gray hair
+loosened and fell off as he sat there. At last he raised his head, and
+revealed the face of a young man whose dark hair showed the gray beard
+to be false.
+
+Yet when he once more put on his wig none but a most intimate friend
+with the closest scrutiny could recognize there the features of Louis
+Brandon.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+
+PAOLO LANGHETTI.
+
+Many weeks passed on, and music still formed the chief occupation in
+life for Despard and Mrs. Thornton. His journey to Brandon village had
+been without result. He knew not what to do. The inquiries which he made
+every where turned out useless. Finally Thornton informed him that it
+was utterly hopeless, at a period so long after the event, to attempt to
+do any thing whatever. Enough had been done long ago. Now nothing more
+could possibly be effected.
+
+Baffled, but not daunted, Despard fell back for the present from his
+purpose, yet still cherished it and wrote to different quarters for
+information. Meantime he had to return to his life at Holby, and Mrs.
+Thornton was still ready to assist him.
+
+So the time went on, and the weeks passed, till one day in March Despard
+went up as usual.
+
+On entering the parlor he heard voices, and saw a stranger. Mrs.
+Thornton greeted him as usual and sat down smiling. The stranger rose,
+and he and Despard looked at one another.
+
+He was of medium size and slight in figure. His brow was very broad and
+high. His hair was black, and clustered in curls over his head. His eyes
+were large, and seemed to possess an unfathomable depth, which gave them
+a certain undefinable and mystic meaning--liquid eyes, yet lustrous,
+where all the soul seemed to live and show itself--benignant in their
+glance, yet lofty like the eyes of a being from some superior sphere.
+His face was thin and shaven close, his lips also were thin, with a
+perpetual smile of marvelous sweetness and gentleness hovering about
+them. It was such a face as artists love to give to the Apostle
+John--the sublime, the divine, the loving, the inspired.
+
+"You do not know him," said Mrs. Thornton. "It is Paolo!"
+
+Despard at once advanced and greeted him with the warmest cordiality.
+
+"I was only a little fellow when I saw you last, and you have changed
+somewhat since then," said Despard. "But when did you arrive? I knew
+that you were expected in England, but was not sure that you would come
+here."
+
+"What! _Teresuola mia_," said Langhetti with a fond smile at his sister.
+"Were you really not sure, _sorellina_, that I would come to see you
+first of all? Infidel!" and he shook his head at her, playfully.
+
+A long conversation followed, chiefly about Langhetti's plans. He was
+going to engage a place in London for his opera, but wished first
+to secure a singer. Oh, if he only could find Bice--his Bicina, the
+divinest voice that mortal ever heard.
+
+Despard and Mrs. Thornton exchanged glances, and at last Despard told
+him that there was a person of the same name at Brandon Hall. She was
+living in a seclusion so strict that it seemed confinement, and there
+was a mystery about her situation which he had tried without success to
+fathom.
+
+Langhetti listened with a painful surprise that seemed like positive
+anguish.
+
+"Then I must go myself. Oh, my Bicina--to what misery have you come--But
+do you say that you have been there?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Did you go to the Hall?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because I know the man to be a villain indescribable--"
+
+Langhetti thought for a moment, and then said,
+
+"True, he is all that, and perhaps more than you imagine."
+
+"I have done the utmost that can be done!" said Despard.
+
+"Perhaps so; still each one wishes to try for himself, and though I can
+scarce hope to be more successful than you, yet I must try, if only
+for my own peace of mind. Oh, _Bicina cara!_ to think of her sweet
+and gentle nature being subject to such torments as those ruffians can
+inflict!
+
+"You do not know how it is," said he at last, very solemnly; "but there
+are reasons of transcendent importance why Bice should be rescued. I can
+not tell them; but if I dared mention what I hope, if I only dared to
+speak my thoughts, you--you," he cried, with piercing emphasis, and in a
+tone that thrilled through Despard, to whom he spoke, "you would make it
+the aim of all your life to save her."
+
+"I do not understand," said Despard, in astonishment.
+
+"No, no," murmured Langhetti. "You do not; nor dare I explain what I
+mean. It has been in my thoughts for years. It was brought to my mind
+first in Hong Kong, when she was there. Only one person besides Potts
+can explain; only one."
+
+"Who?" cried Despard, eagerly.
+
+"A woman named Compton."
+
+"Compton!"
+
+"Yes. Perhaps she is dead. Alas, and alas, and alas, if she is! Yet
+could I but see that woman, I would tear the truth from her if I
+perished in the attempt!"
+
+And Langhetti stretched out his long, slender hand, as though he were
+plucking out the very heart of some imaginary enemy.
+
+"Think, Teresuola," said he, after a while, "if you were in captivity,
+what would become of my opera? Could I have the heart to think about
+operas, even if I believed that they contributed to the welfare of
+the world, if your welfare was at stake? Now you know that next to you
+stands Bice. I must try and save her--I must give up all. My opera must
+stand aside till it be God's will that I give it forth. No, the one
+object of my life now must be to find Bice, to see her or to see Mrs.
+Compton, if she is alive."
+
+"Is the secret of so much importance?" asked Despard.
+
+Langhetti looked at him with mournful meaning.
+
+Despard looked at him wonderingly. What could he mean? How could any one
+affect him? His peace of mind! That had been lost long ago. And if this
+secret was so terrible it would distract his mind from its grief, its
+care, and its longing. Peace would be restored rather than destroyed.
+
+"I must find her. I must find her," said Langhetti, speaking half to
+himself. "I am weak; but much can be done by a resolute will."
+
+"Perhaps Mr. Thornton can assist you," said Despard.
+
+Langhetti shook his head.
+
+"No; he is a man of law, and does not understand the man who acts
+from feeling. I can be as logical as he, but I obey impulses which are
+unintelligible to him. He would simply advise me to give up the matter,
+adding, perhaps, that I would do myself no good. Whereas he can not
+understand that it makes no difference to me whether I do myself good
+or not; and again, that the highest good that I can do myself is to seek
+after her."
+
+Mrs. Thornton looked at Despard, but he avoided her glance.
+
+"No," said Langhetti, "I will ask assistance from another--from you,
+Despard. You are one who acts as I act. Come with me."
+
+"When?"
+
+"To-morrow morning."
+
+"I will."
+
+"Of course you will. You would not be a Despard if you did not. You
+would not be the son of your father--your father!" he repeated, in
+thrilling tones, as his eyes flashed with enthusiasm. "Despard!" he
+cried, after a pause, "your father was a man whom you might pray to now.
+I saw him once. Shall I ever forget the day when he calmly went to lay
+down his life for my father? Despard, I worship your father's memory.
+Come with me. Let us emulate those two noble men who once before rescued
+a captive. We can not risk our lives as they did. Let us at least do
+what we can."
+
+"I will do exactly what you say. You can think and I will act."
+
+"No, you must think too. Neither of us belong to the class of practical
+men whom the world now delights to honor; but no practical man would go
+on our errand. No practical man would have rescued my father. Generous
+and lofty acts must always be done by those who are not practical men."
+
+"But I must go out. I must think," he continued. "I will go and walk
+about the grounds."
+
+Saying this he left the room.
+
+"Where is Edith Brandon?" asked Despard, after he had gone.
+
+"She is here," said Mrs. Thornton.
+
+"Have you seen her?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Is she what you anticipated?"
+
+"More. She is incredible. She is almost unearthly. I feel awe of her,
+but not fear. She is too sweet to inspire fear."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+
+FLIGHT.
+
+The last entry in Beatrice's journal was made by her in the hope that it
+might be the last.
+
+In her life at Brandon Hall her soul had grown stronger and more
+resolute. Besides, it had now come to this, that henceforth she must
+either stay and accept the punishment which they might contrive or fly
+instantly.
+
+For she had dared them to their faces; she had told them of their
+crimes; she had threatened punishment. She had said that she was the
+avenger of Despard. If she had desired instant death she could have said
+no more than that. Would they pass it by? She knew their secret--the
+secret of secrets; she had proclaimed it to their faces. She had called
+Potts a Thug and disowned him as her father; what now remained?
+
+But one thing--flight. And this she was fully resolved to try. She
+prepared nothing. To gain the outside world was all she wished. The need
+of money was not thought of; nor if it had been would it have made any
+difference. She could not have obtained it.
+
+The one idea in her mind was therefore flight. She had concealed her
+journal under a looser piece of the flooring in one of the closets of
+her room, being unwilling to encumber herself with it, and dreading the
+result of a search in case she was captured.
+
+She made no other preparations whatever. A light hat and a thin jacket
+were all that she took to resist the chill air of March. There was a
+fever in her veins which was heightened by excitement and suspense.
+
+Mrs. Compton was in her room during the evening. Beatrice said but
+little. Mrs. Compton talked drearily about the few topics on which she
+generally spoke. She never dared talk about the affairs of the house.
+
+Beatrice was not impatient, for she had no idea of trying to escape
+before midnight. She sat silently while Mrs. Compton talked or prosed,
+absorbed in her own thoughts and plans. The hours seemed to her
+interminable. Slowly and heavily they dragged on. Beatrice's suspense
+and excitement grew stronger every moment, yet by a violent effort she
+preserved so perfect an outward calm that a closer observer than Mrs.
+Compton would have failed to detect any emotion.
+
+At last, about ten o'clock, Mrs. Compton retired, with many kind wishes
+to Beatrice, and many anxious counsels as to her health. Beatrice
+listened patiently, and made some general remarks, after which Mrs.
+Compton withdrew.
+
+She was now left to herself, and two hours still remained before she
+could dare to venture. She paced the room fretfully and anxiously,
+wondering why it was that the time seemed so long, and looking from
+time to time at her watch in the hope of finding that half an hour had
+passed, but seeing to her disappointment that only two or three minutes
+had gone.
+
+At last eleven o'clock came. She stole out quietly into the hall and
+went to the top of the grand stairway. There she stood and listened.
+
+The sound of voices came up from the dining-room, which was near the
+hall-door. She knew to whom those voices belonged. Evidently it was not
+yet the time for her venture.
+
+She went back, controlling her excitement as best she might. At last,
+after a long, long suspense, midnight sounded.
+
+Again she went to the head of the stairway. The voices were still heard.
+They kept late hours down there. Could she try now, while they were
+still up? Not yet.
+
+Not yet. The suspense became agonizing. How could she wait? But she went
+back again to her room, and smothered her feelings until one o'clock
+came.
+
+Again she went to the head of the stairway. She heard nothing. She could
+see a light streaming from the door of the dining-hall below. Lights,
+also, were burning in the hall itself; but she heard no voices.
+
+Softly and quietly she went down stairs. The lights flashed out through
+the door of the dining-room into the hall; and as she arrived at the
+foot of the stairs she heard subdued voices in conversation. Her heart
+beat faster. They were all there! What if they now discovered her! What
+mercy would they show her, even if they were capable of mercy?
+
+Fear lent wings to her feet. She was almost afraid to breathe for fear
+that they might hear her. She stole on quietly and noiselessly up the
+passage that led to the north end, and at last reached it.
+
+All was dark there. At this end there was a door. On each side was
+a kind of recess formed by the pillars of the doorway. The door was
+generally used by the servants, and also by the inmates of the house for
+convenience.
+
+The key was in it. There was no light in the immediate vicinity. Around
+it all was gloom. Near by was a stairway, which led to the servants'
+hall.
+
+She took the key in her hands, which trembled violently with excitement,
+and turned it in the lock.
+
+Scarcely had she done so when she heard footsteps and voices behind
+her. She looked hastily back, and, to her horror, saw two servants
+approaching with a lamp. It was impossible for her now to open the door
+and go out. Concealment was her only plan.
+
+But how? There was no time for hesitation. Without stopping to think
+she slipped into one of the niches formed by the projecting pillars, and
+gathered her skirts close about her so as to be as little conspicuous as
+possible. There she stood awaiting the result. She half wished that she
+had turned back. For if she were now discovered in evident concealment
+what excuse could she give? She could not hope to bribe them, for she
+had no money. And, what was worst, these servants were the two who had
+been the most insolent to her from the first.
+
+She could do nothing, therefore, but wait. They came nearer, and at last
+reached the door.
+
+"Hallo!" said one, as he turned the key. "It's been unlocked!"
+
+"It hain't been locked yet," said the other.
+
+"Yes, it has. I locked it myself an hour ago. Who could have been here?"
+
+"Any one," said the other, quietly. "Our blessed young master has, no
+doubt, been out this way."
+
+"No, he hasn't. He hasn't stirred from his whisky since eight o'clock."
+
+"Nonsense! You're making a fuss about nothing. Lock the door and come
+along."
+
+"Any how, I'm responsible, and I'll get a precious overhauling if this
+thing goes on. I'll take the key with me this time."
+
+And saying this, the man locked the door and took out the key. Both of
+them then descended to the servants' hall.
+
+The noise of that key as it grated in the lock sent a thrill through the
+heart of the trembling listener. It seemed to take all hope from her.
+The servants departed. She had not been discovered. But what was to be
+done? She had not been prepared for this.
+
+She stood for some time in despair. She thought of other ways of escape.
+There was the hall-door, which she did not dare to try, for she would
+have to pass directly in front of the dining-room. Then there was the
+south door at the other end of the building, which was seldom used. She
+knew of no others. She determined to try the south door.
+
+Quietly and swiftly she stole away, and glided, like a ghost, along the
+entire length of the building. It was quite dark at the south end as it
+had been at the north. She reached the door without accident.
+
+There was no key in it. It was locked. Escape by that way was
+impossible.
+
+She stood despairing. Only one way was now left, and that lay through
+the hall-door itself.
+
+Suddenly, as she stood there, she heard footsteps. A figure came down
+the long hall straight toward her. There was not the slightest chance of
+concealment here. There were no pillars behind which she might crouch.
+She must stand, then, and take the consequences. Or, rather, would it
+not be better to walk forward and meet this new-comer? Yes; that would
+be best. She determined to do so.
+
+So, with a quiet, slow step she walked back through the long corridor.
+About half-way she met the other. He stopped and started back.
+
+"Miss Potts!" he exclaimed, in surprise.
+
+It was the voice of Philips.
+
+"Ah, Philips," said she, quietly, "I am walking about for exercise and
+amusement. I can not sleep. Don't be startled. It's only me."
+
+Philips stood like one paralyzed.
+
+"Don't be cast down," he said at last, in a trembling voice. "You have
+friends, powerful friends. They will save you."
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Beatrice, in wonder.
+
+"Never mind," said Philips, mysteriously. "It will be all right. I dare
+not tell. But cheer up."
+
+"What do you mean by friends?"
+
+"You have friends who are more powerful than your enemies, that's all,"
+said Philips, hurriedly. "Cheer up."
+
+Beatrice wondered. A vague thought of Brandon came over her mind, but
+she dismissed it at once. Yet the thought gave her a delicious joy, and
+at once dispelled the extreme agitation which had thus far disturbed
+her. Could Philips be connected with _him_? Was he in reality
+considerate about her while shaping the course of his gloomy vengeance?
+These were the thoughts which flashed across her mind as she stood.
+
+"I don't understand," said she, at last; "but I hope it may be as you
+say. God knows, I need friends!"
+
+She walked away, and Philips also went onward. She walked slowly,
+until at last his steps died out in the distance. Then a door banged.
+Evidently she had nothing to fear from him. At last she reached the main
+hall, and stopped for a moment. The lights from the dining-room were
+still flashing out through the door. The grand entrance lay before
+her. There was the door of the hall, the only way of escape that now
+remained. Dare she try it?
+
+She deliberated long. Two alternatives lay before her--to go back to her
+own room, or to try to pass that door. To go back was as repulsive as
+death, in fact more so. If the choice had been placed full before her
+then, to die on the spot or to go back to her room, she would have
+deliberately chosen death. The thought of returning, therefore, was the
+last upon which she could dwell, and that of going forward was the only
+one left. To this she gave her attention.
+
+At last she made up her mind, and advanced cautiously, close by the
+wall, toward the hall-door. After a time she reached the door of the
+dining-room. Could she venture to pass it, and how? She paused. She
+listened. There were low voices in the room. Then they were still awake,
+still able to detect her if she passed the door.
+
+She looked all around. The hall was wide. On the opposite side the wall
+was but feebly lighted. The hall lights had been put out, and those
+which shone from the room extended forward but a short distance. It was
+just possible therefore to escape observation by crossing the doorway
+along the wall that was most distant from it.
+
+Yet before she tried this she ventured to put forward her head so as to
+peep into the room. She stooped low and looked cautiously and slowly.
+
+The three were there at the farthest end of the room. Bottles and
+glasses stood before them, and they were conversing in low tones. Those
+tones, however, were not so low but that they reached her ears. They
+were speaking about _her_.
+
+"How could she have found it out?" said Clark.
+
+"Mrs. Compton only knows _one thing_," said Potts, "and that is _the
+secret about her_. She knows nothing more. How could she?"
+
+"Then how could that cursed girl have found out about the Thug
+business?" exclaimed John.
+
+There was no reply.
+
+"She's a deep one," said John, "d--d deep--deeper than I ever thought.
+I always said she was plucky--cursed plucky--but now I see she's deep
+too--and I begin to have my doubts about the way she ought to be took
+down."
+
+"I never could make her out," said Potts. "And now I don't even begin
+to understand how she could know that which only we have known. Do you
+think, Clark, that the devil could have told her of it?"
+
+"Yes," said Clark. "Nobody but the devil could have told her that, and
+my belief is that she's the devil himself. She's the only person I ever
+felt afraid of. D--n it, I can't look her in the face."
+
+Beatrice retreated and passed across to the opposite wall. She did not
+wish to see or hear more. She glided by. She was not noticed. She heard
+John's voice--sharp and clear--
+
+"We'll have to begin to-morrow and take her down--that's a fact." This
+was followed by silence.
+
+Beatrice reached the door. She turned the knob. Oh, joy! it was not
+locked. It opened.
+
+Noiselessly she passed through; noiselessly she shut it behind her. She
+was outside. She was free.
+
+The moon shone brightly. It illumined the lawn in front and the tops
+of the clumps of trees whose dark foliage rose before her. She saw all
+this; yet, in her eagerness to escape, she saw nothing more, but sped
+away swiftly down the steps, across the lawn, and under the shade of the
+trees.
+
+Which way should she go? There was the main avenue which led in a
+winding direction toward the gate and the porter's lodge. There was also
+another path which the servants generally took. This led to the gate
+also. Beatrice thought that by going down this path she might come near
+the gate and then turn off to the wall and try and climb over.
+
+A few moments of thought were sufficient for her decision. She took the
+path and went hurriedly along, keeping on the side where the shadow was
+thickest.
+
+She walked swiftly, until at length she came to a place where the path
+ended. It was close by the porter's lodge. Here she paused to consider.
+
+Late as it was there were lights in the lodge and voices at the door.
+Some one was talking with the porter. Suddenly the voices ceased and a
+man came walking toward the place where she stood.
+
+To dart into the thick trees where the shadow lay deepest was the work
+of a moment. She stood and watched. But the underbrush was dense, and
+the crackling which she made attracted the man's attention. He stopped
+for a moment, and then rushed straight toward the place where she was.
+
+Beatrice gave herself up for lost. She rushed on wildly, not knowing
+where she went. Behind her was the sound of her pursuer. He followed
+resolutely and relentlessly. There was no refuge for her but continued
+flight.
+
+Onward she sped, and still onward, through the dense underbrush, which
+at every step gave notice of the direction which she had taken. Perhaps
+if she had been wiser she would have plunged into some thick growth of
+trees into the midst of absolute darkness and there remained still. As
+it was she did not think of this. Escape was her only thought, and the
+only way to this seemed to be by flight.
+
+So she fled; and after her came her remorseless, her unpitying pursuer,
+fear lent wings to her feet. She fled on through the underbrush that
+crackled as she passed and gave notice of her track through the dark,
+dense groves; yet still amidst darkness and gloom her pursuer followed.
+
+[Illustration: "ONWARD SHE SPED, AND STILL ONWARD, THROUGH THE DENSE
+UNDERBRUSH."]
+
+At last, through utter weakness and weariness, she sank down. Despair
+came over her. She could do no more.
+
+The pursuer came up. So dense was the gloom in that thick grove that
+for some time he could not find her. Beatrice heard the crackling of the
+underbrush all around. He was searching for her.
+
+She crouched down low and scarcely dared to breathe. She took refuge in
+the deep darkness, and determined to wait till her pursuer might give up
+his search. At last all was still.
+
+Beatrice thought that he had gone. Yet in her fear she waited for what
+seemed to her an interminable period. At last she ventured to make a
+movement. Slowly and cautiously she rose to her feet and advanced. She
+did not know what direction to take; but she walked on, not caring where
+she went so long as she could escape pursuit.
+
+Scarcely had she taken twenty steps when she heard a noise. Some one
+was moving. She stood still, breathless. Then she thought she had been
+mistaken. After waiting a long time she went on as before. She walked
+faster. The noise came again. It was close by. She stood still for many
+minutes.
+
+Suddenly she bounded up, and ran as one runs for life. Her long rest
+had refreshed her. Despair gave her strength. But the pursuer was on
+her track. Swiftly, and still more swiftly, his footsteps came up behind
+her. He was gaining on her. Still she rushed on.
+
+At last a strong hand seized her by the shoulder, and she sank down upon
+the moss that lay under the forest trees.
+
+"Who are you?" cried a familiar voice.
+
+"Vijal!" cried Beatrice.
+
+The other let go his hold.
+
+"Will you betray me?" cried Beatrice, in a mournful and despairing
+voice.
+
+Vijal was silent.
+
+"What do you want?" said he, at last. "Whatever you want to do I will
+help you. I will be your slave."
+
+"I wish to escape."
+
+"Come then--you shall escape," said Vijal.
+
+Without uttering another word he walked on and Beatrice followed. Hope
+rose once more within her. Hope gave strength. Despair and its weakness
+had left her. After about half an hour's walk they reached the park
+wall.
+
+"I thought it was a poacher," said Vijal, sadly; "yet I am glad it was
+you, for I can help you. I will help you over the wall."
+
+He raised her up. She clambered to the top, where she rested for a
+moment.
+
+"God bless you, Vijal, and good-by!" said she.
+
+Vijal said nothing.
+
+The next moment she was on the other side. The road lay there. It ran
+north away from the village. Along this road Beatrice walked swiftly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+
+"PICKED UP ADRIFT."
+
+On the morning following two travelers left a small inn which lay on the
+road-side, about ten miles north of Brandon. It was about eight o'clock
+when they took their departure, driving in their own carriage at a
+moderate pace along the road.
+
+"Look, Langhetti," said the one who was driving, pointing with his whip
+to an object in the road directly in front of them.
+
+Langhetti raised his head, which had been bowed down in deep
+abstraction, to look in the direction indicated. A figure was
+approaching them. It looked like a woman. She walked very slowly, and
+appeared rather to stagger than to walk.
+
+"She appears to be drunk, Despard," said Langhetti. "Poor wretch, and on
+this bleak March morning too! Let us stop and see if we can do any thing
+for her."
+
+They drove on, and as they met the woman Despard stopped.
+
+She was young and extraordinarily beautiful. Her face was thin and
+white. Her clothing was of fine materials but scanty and torn to shreds.
+As they stopped she turned her large eyes up despairingly and stood
+still, with a face which seemed to express every conceivable emotion of
+anguish and of hope. Yet as her eyes rested on Langhetti a change came
+over her. The deep and unutterable sadness of her face passed away, and
+was succeeded by a radiant flash of joy. She threw out her arms toward
+him with a cry of wild entreaty.
+
+The moment that Langhetti saw her he started up and stood for an instant
+as if paralyzed. Her cry came to his ears. He leaped from the carriage
+toward her, and caught her in his arms.
+
+"Oh, Bice! Alas, my Bicina!" he cried, and a thousand fond words came to
+his lips.
+
+Beatrice looked up with eyes filled with grateful tears; her lips
+murmured some inaudible sentences; and then, in this full assurance
+of safety, the resolution that had sustained her so long gave way
+altogether. Her eyes closed, she gave a low moan, and sank senseless
+upon his breast.
+
+Langhetti supported her for a moment, then gently laid her down to try
+and restore her. He chafed her hands, and did all that is usually done
+in such emergencies. But here the case was different--it was more than a
+common faint, and the animation now suspended was not to be restored by
+ordinary efforts.
+
+Langhetti bowed over her as he chafed her hands. "Ah, my Bicina," he
+cried; "is it thus I find you! Ah, poor thin hand! Alas, white wan face!
+What suffering has been yours, pure angel, among those fiends of hell!"
+
+He paused, and turned a face of agony toward Despard. But as he looked
+at him he saw a grief in his countenance that was only second to his
+own. Something in Beatrice's appearance had struck him with a deeper
+feeling than that merely human interest which the generous heart feels
+in the sufferings of others.
+
+"Langhetti," said he, "let us not leave this sweet angel exposed to this
+bleak wind. We must take her back to the inn. We have gained our object.
+Alas! the gain is worse than a failure."
+
+"What can we do?"
+
+"Let us put her in the carriage between us, and drive back instantly."
+
+Despard stooped as he spoke, raised her reverently in his arms, and
+lifted her upon the seat. He sprang in and put his arms around her
+senseless form, so as to support her against himself. Langhetti looked
+on with eyes that were moist with a sad yet mysterious feeling.
+
+Then he resumed his place in the carriage.
+
+"Oh, Langhetti!" said Despard, "what is it that I saw in the face of
+this poor child that so wrings my heart? What is this mystery of yours
+that you will not tell?"
+
+"I can not solve it," said Langhetti, "and therefore I will not tell
+it."
+
+"Tell it, whatever it is."
+
+"No, it is only conjecture as yet, and I will not utter it."
+
+"And it affects me?"
+
+"Deeply."
+
+"Therefore tell it."
+
+"Therefore I must not tell it; for if it prove baseless I shall only
+excite your feeling in vain."
+
+"At any rate let me know. For I have the wildest fancies, and I wish to
+know if it is possible that they are like your own."
+
+"No, Despard," said Langhetti. "Not now. The time may come, but it has
+not yet."
+
+Beatrice's head leaned against Despard's shoulder as she reclined
+against him, sustained by his arm. Her face was upturned; a face as
+white as marble, her pure Grecian features showing now their faultless
+lines like the sculptured face of some goddess. Her beauty was perfect
+in its classic outline. But her eyes were closed, and her wan, white
+lips parted; and there was a sorrow on her face which did not seem
+appropriate to one so young.
+
+[Illustration: "HE LEAPED FROM THE CARRIAGE TOWARD HER, AND CAUGHT HER
+IN HIS ARMS."]
+
+"Look," said Langhetti, in a mournful voice. "Saw you ever in all your
+life any one so perfectly and so faultlessly beautiful? Oh, if you could
+but have seen her, as I have done, in her moods of inspiration, when she
+sang! Could I ever have imagined such a fate as this for her?"
+
+"Oh, Despard!" he continued, after, a pause in which the other had
+turned his stern face to him without a word--"Oh, Despard! you ask me to
+tell you this secret. I dare not. It is so wide-spread. If my fancy be
+true, then all your life must at once be unsettled, and all your soul
+turned to one dark purpose. Never will I turn you to that purpose till I
+know the truth beyond the possibility of a doubt."
+
+"I saw that in her face," said Despard, "which I hardly dare acknowledge
+to myself."
+
+"Do not acknowledge it, then, I implore you. Forget it. Do not open up
+once more that old and now almost forgotten sorrow. Think not of it even
+to yourself."
+
+Langhetti spoke with a wild and vehement urgency which was wonderful.
+
+"Do you not see," said Despard, "that you rouse my curiosity to an
+intolerable degree?"
+
+"Be it so; at any rate it is better to suffer from curiosity than to
+feel what you must feel if I told you what I suspect."
+
+Had it been any other man than Langhetti Despard would have been
+offended. As it was he said nothing, but began to conjecture as to the
+best course for them to follow.
+
+"It is evident," said he to Langhetti, "that she has escaped from
+Brandon Hall during the past night. She will, no doubt, be pursued. What
+shall we do? If we go back to this inn they will wonder at our bringing
+her. There is another inn a mile further on."
+
+"I have been thinking of that," replied Langhetti. "It will be better to
+go to the other inn. But what shall we say about her? Let us say she is
+an invalid going home."
+
+"And am I her medical attendant?" asked Despard.
+
+"No; that is not necessary. You are her guardian--the Rector of Holby,
+of course--your name is sufficient guarantee."
+
+"Oh," said Despard, after a pause, "I'll tell you something better yet.
+I am her brother and she is my sister--Miss Despard."
+
+As he spoke he looked down upon her marble face. He did not see
+Langhetti's countenance. Had he done so he would have wondered. For
+Langhetti's eyes seemed to seek to pierce the very soul of Despard.
+His face became transformed. Its usual serenity vanished, and there was
+eager wonder, intense and anxious curiosity--an endeavor to see if there
+was not some deep meaning underlying Despard's words. But Despard showed
+no emotion. He was conscious of no deep meaning. He merely murmured to
+himself as he looked down upon the unconscious face:
+
+"My sick sister--my sister Beatrice."
+
+Langhetti said not a word, but sat in silence, absorbed in one intense
+and wondering gaze. Despard seemed to dwell upon this idea, fondly and
+tenderly.
+
+"She is not one of that brood," said he, after a pause. "It is in name
+only that she belongs to them."
+
+"They are fiends and she is an angel," said Langhetti.
+
+"Heaven has sent her to us; we most preserve her forever."
+
+"If she lives," said Langhetti, "she must never go back."
+
+"Go back!" cried Despard. "Better far for her to die."
+
+"I myself would die rather than give her up."
+
+"And I, too. But we will not. I will adopt her. Yes, she shall cast away
+the link that binds her to these accursed ones--her vile name. I will
+adopt her. She shall have my name--she shall be my sister. She shall be
+Beatrice Despard.
+
+"And surely," continued Despard, looking tenderly down, "surely, of all
+the Despard race there was never one so beautiful and so pure as she."
+
+Langhetti did not say a word, but looked at Despard and the one whom
+he thus called his adopted sister with an emotion which he could
+not control. Tears started to his eyes; yet over his brow there came
+something which is not generally associated with tears--a lofty,
+exultant expression, an air of joy and peace.
+
+"Your sister," said Despard, "shall nurse her back to health. She
+will do so for your sake, Langhetti--or rather from her own noble and
+generous instincts. In Thornton Grange she will, perhaps, find some
+alleviation for the sorrows which she may have endured. Our care shall
+be around her, and we can all labor together for her future welfare."
+
+They at length reached the inn of which they had spoken, and Beatrice
+was tenderly lifted out and carried up stairs. She was mentioned as the
+sister of the Rev. Mr. Despard, of Holby, who was bringing her back from
+the sea-side, whither she had gone for her health. Unfortunately, she
+had been too weak for the journey.
+
+The people of the inn showed the kindest attention and warmest sympathy.
+A doctor was sent for, who lived at a village two miles farther on.
+
+Beatrice recovered from her faint, but remained unconscious. The doctor
+considered that her brain was affected. He shook his head solemnly over
+it; as doctors always do when they have nothing in particular to say.
+Both Langhetti and Despard knew more about her case than he did.
+
+They saw that rest was the one thing needed. But rest could be better
+attained in Holby than here; and besides, there was the danger of
+pursuit. It was necessary to remove her; and that, too, without delay.
+A closed carriage was procured without much difficulty, and the patient
+was deposited therein.
+
+A slow journey brought them by easy stages to Holby. Beatrice remained
+unconscious. A nurse was procured, who traveled with her. The condition
+of Beatrice was the same which she described in her diary. Great grief
+and extraordinary suffering and excitement had overtasked the brain, and
+it had given way. So Despard and Langhetti conjectured.
+
+At last they reached Holby. They drove at once to Thornton Grange.
+
+"What is this?" cried Mrs. Thornton, who had heard nothing from them,
+and ran out upon the piazza to meet them as she saw them coming.
+
+"I have found Bice," said Langhetti, "and have brought her here."
+
+"Where is she?"
+
+"There," said Langhetti. "I give her to your care--it is for you to give
+her back to me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+
+ON THE TRACK.
+
+Beatrice's disappearance was known at Brandon Hall on the following day.
+The servants first made the discovery. They found her absent from her
+room, and no one had seen her about the house. It was an unusual thing
+for her to be out of the house early in the day, and of late for many
+months she had scarcely ever left her room, so that now her absence at
+once excited suspicion. The news was communicated from one to another
+among the servants. Afraid of Potts, they did not dare to tell him, but
+first sought to find her by themselves. They called Mrs. Compton,
+and the fear which perpetually possessed the mind of this poor, timid
+creature now rose to a positive frenzy of anxiety and dread. She told
+all that she knew, and that was that she had seen her the evening before
+as usual, and had left her at ten o'clock.
+
+No satisfaction therefore could be gained from her. The servants tried
+to find traces of her, but were unable. At length toward evening, on
+Potts's return from the bank, the news was communicated to him.
+
+The rage of Potts need not be described here. That one who had twice
+defied should now escape him filled him with fury. He organized all his
+servants into bands, and they scoured the grounds till darkness put an
+end to these operations.
+
+That evening Potts and his two companions dined in moody silence, only
+conversing by fits and starts.
+
+"I don't think she's killed herself," said Potts, in reply to an
+observation of Clark. "She's got stuff enough in her to do it, but I
+don't believe she has. She's playing a deeper game. I only wish we could
+fish up her dead body out of some pond; it would quiet matters down very
+considerable."
+
+"If she's got off she's taken with her some secrets that won't do us any
+good," remarked John.
+
+"The devil of it is," said Potts, "we don't know how much she does know.
+She must know a precious lot, or she never would have dared to say what
+she did."
+
+"But how could she get out of the park?" said Clark. "That wall is too
+high to climb over, and the gates are all locked."
+
+"It's my opinion," exclaimed John, "that she's in the grounds yet."
+
+Potts shook his head.
+
+"After what she told me it's my belief she can do any thing. Why, didn't
+she tell us of crimes that were committed before she was born? I begin
+to feel shaky, and it is the girl that has made me so."
+
+Potts rose to his feet, plunged his hands deep into his pockets, and
+walked up and down. The others sat in gloomy silence.
+
+"Could that Hong Kong nurse of hers have told her any thing?" asked
+John.
+
+"She didn't know any thing to tell."
+
+"Mrs. Compton must have blown, then."
+
+"Mrs. Compton didn't know. I tell you that there is not one human being
+living that knows what she told us besides ourselves and her. How the
+devil she picked it up I don't know."
+
+"I didn't like the cut of her from the first," said John. "She had a way
+of looking that made me feel uneasy, as though there was something in
+her that would some day be dangerous. I didn't want you to send for
+her."
+
+"Well, the mischief's done now."
+
+"You're not going to give up the search, are you?" asked Clark.
+
+"Give it up! Not I."
+
+"We must get her back."
+
+"Yes; our only safety now is in catching her again at all hazards."
+
+There was a long silence.
+
+"Twenty years ago," said Potts, moodily, "the _Vishnu_ drifted away, and
+since the time of the trial no one has mentioned it to me till that girl
+did."
+
+"And she is only twenty years old," rejoined John.
+
+"I tell you, lads, you've got the devil to do with when you tackle her,"
+remarked Clark; "but if she is the devil we must fight it out and crush
+her."
+
+"Twenty-three years," continued Potts, in the same gloomy
+tone--"twenty-three years have passed since I was captured with my
+followers. No one has mentioned that since. No one in all the world
+knows that I am the only Englishman that ever joined the Thugs except
+that girl."
+
+"She must know every thing that we have done," said Clark.
+
+"Of course she must."
+
+"Including our Brandon enterprise," said John.
+
+"And including your penmanship." said Clark; "enough, lad, to stretch a
+neck."
+
+"Come," said Potts, "don't let us talk of this, any how."
+
+Again they relapsed into silence.
+
+"Well!" exclaimed John, at last, "what are you going to do to-morrow?"
+
+"Chase her till I find her," replied Potts, savagely.
+
+"But where?"
+
+"I've been thinking of a plan which seems to me to be about the thing."
+
+"What?"
+
+"A good old plan," said Potts. "Your pup, Johnnie, can help us."
+
+John pounded his fist on the table with savage exultation.
+
+"My blood-hound! Good, old Dad, what a trump you are to think of that!"
+
+"He'll do it!"
+
+"Yes," said John, "if he gets on her track and comes up with her I'm a
+little afraid that we'll arrive at the spot just too late to save her.
+It's the best way that I know of for getting rid of the difficulty
+handsomely. Of course we are going after her through anxiety, and the
+dog is an innocent pup who comes with us; and if any disaster happens we
+will kill him on the spot."
+
+Potts shook his head moodily. He had no very hopeful feeling about this.
+He was shaken to the soul at the thought of this stern, relentless girl
+carrying out into the world his terrific secret.
+
+Early on the following morning they resumed their search after the lost
+girl. This time the servants were not employed, but the three themselves
+went forth to try what they could do. With them was the "pup" to which
+allusion had been made on the previous evening. This animal was a huge
+blood-hound, which John had purchased to take the place of his bull-dog,
+and of which he was extravagantly proud. True to his instinct, the hound
+understood from smelling an article of Beatrice's apparel what it was
+that he was required to seek, and he went off on her trail out through
+the front door, down the steps, and up to the grove.
+
+The others followed after. The dog led them down the path toward the
+gate, and thence into the thick grove and through the underbrush. Scraps
+of her dress still clung in places to the brushwood. The dog led them
+round and round wherever Beatrice had wandered in her flight from Vijal.
+They all believed that they would certainly find her here, and that she
+had lost her way or at least tried to conceal herself. But at last, to
+their disappointment, the dog turned away out of the wood and into the
+path again. Then he led them along through the woods until he reached
+the Park wall. Here the animal squatted on his haunches, and, lifting up
+his head, gave a long deep howl.
+
+"What's this?" said Potts.
+
+"Why, don't you see? She's got over the wall somehow. All that we've got
+to do is to put the dog over, and follow on."
+
+[Illustration: "WHY, DON'T YOU SEE? SHE'S GOT OVER THE WALL SOMEHOW."]
+
+The others at once understood that this must be the case. In a short
+time they were on the other side of the wall, where the dog found the
+trail again, and led on while they followed as before.
+
+They did not, however, wish to seem like pursuers. That would hardly
+be the thing in a country of law and order. They chose to walk rather
+slowly, and John held the dog by a strap which he had brought with him.
+They soon found the walk much longer than they had anticipated, and
+began to regret that they had not come in a carriage. They had gone too
+far, however, to remedy this now, so they resolved to continue on their
+way as they were.
+
+"Gad!" said John, who felt fatigued first, "what a walker she is!"
+
+"She's the devil!" growled Clark, savagely.
+
+At last, after about three hours' walk, the dog stopped at a place by
+the road-side, and snuffed in all directions. The others watched him
+anxiously for a long time. The dog ran all around sniffing at the
+ground, but to no purpose.
+
+He had lost the trail. Again and again he tried to recover it. But his
+blood-thirsty instinct was completely at fault. The trail had gone, and
+at last the animal came up to his master and crouched down at his feet
+with a low moan.
+
+"Sold!" cried John, with a curse.
+
+"What can have become of her?" said Potts.
+
+"I don't know," said John. "I dare say she's got took up in some wagon.
+Yes, that's it. That's the reason why the trail has gone."
+
+"What shall we do now? We can't follow. It may have been the coach, and
+she may have got a lift to the nearest railway station."
+
+"Well," said John, "I'll tell you what we can do. Let one of us go to
+the inns that are nearest, and ask if there was a girl in the coach that
+looked like her, or make any inquiries that may be needed. We could find
+out that much at any rate."
+
+The others assented. John swore he was too tired. At length, after some
+conversation, they all determined to go on, and to hire a carriage back.
+Accordingly on they went, and soon reached an inn.
+
+Here they made inquiries, but could learn nothing whatever about any
+girl that had stopped there. Potts then hired a carriage and drove off
+to the next inn, leaving the others behind. He returned in about two
+hours. His face bore an expression of deep perplexity.
+
+"Well, what luck, dad?" asked John.
+
+"There's the devil to pay," growled Potts.
+
+"Did you find her?"
+
+"There is a girl at the next inn, and it's her. Now what name do you
+think they call her by?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Miss Despard."
+
+Clark turned pale and looked at John, who gave a long, low whistle.
+
+"Is she alone?" asked John.
+
+"No--that's the worst of it. A reverend gent is with her, who has charge
+of her, and says he is her brother."
+
+"Who?"
+
+"His name is Courtenay Despard, son of Colonel Lionel Despard," said
+Potts.
+
+The others returned his look in utter bewilderment.
+
+"I've been thinking and thinking," said Potts, "but I haven't got to
+the bottom of it yet. We can't do any thing just now, that's evident.
+I found out that this reverend gent is on his way to Holby, where he is
+rector. The only thing left for us to do is to go quietly home and look
+about us."
+
+"It seems to me that this is like the beginning of one of those monsoon
+storms," said Clark, gloomily.
+
+The others said nothing. In a short time they were on their way back,
+moody and silent.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+
+BEATRICE'S RECOVERY.
+
+It was not easy for the overtasked and overworn powers of Beatrice to
+rally. Weeks passed before she opened her eyes to a recognition of the
+world around her. It was March when she sank down by the road-side.
+It was June when she began to recover from the shock of the terrible
+excitement through which she had passed.
+
+Loving hearts sympathized with her, tender hands cared for her, vigilant
+eyes watched her, and all that love and care could do were unremittingly
+exerted for her benefit.
+
+As Beatrice opened her eyes after her long unconsciousness she looked
+around in wonder, recognizing nothing. Then they rested in equal wonder
+upon one who stood by her bedside.
+
+She was slender and fragile in form, with delicate features, whose fine
+lines seemed rather like ideal beauty than real life. The eyes were
+large, dark, lustrous, and filled with a wonderful but mournful beauty.
+Yet all the features, so exquisite in their loveliness, were transcended
+by the expression that dwelt upon them. It was pure, it was spiritual,
+it was holy. It was the face of a saint, such a face as appears to
+the rapt devotee when fasting has done its work, and the quickened
+imagination grasps at ideal forms till the dwellers in heaven seem to
+become visible.
+
+In her confused mind Beatrice at first had a faint fancy that she was
+in another state of existence, and that the form before her was one of
+those pure intelligences who had been appointed to welcome her there.
+Perhaps there was some such thought visible upon her face, for the
+stranger came up to her noiselessly, and stooping down, kissed her.
+
+"You are among friends," said she, in a low, sweet voice. "You have been
+sick long."
+
+"Where am I?"
+
+"Among loving friends," said the other, "far away from the place where
+you suffered."
+
+Beatrice sighed.
+
+"I hoped that I had passed away forever," she murmured.
+
+"Not yet, not yet," said the stranger, in a voice of tender yet mournful
+sweetness, which had in it an unfathomable depth of meaning. "We must
+wait on here, dear friend, till it be His will to call us."
+
+"And who are you?" asked Beatrice, after a long and anxious look at the
+face of the speaker.
+
+"My name is Edith Brandon," said the other, gently.
+
+"Brandon!--Edith Brandon!" cried Beatrice, with a vehemence which
+contrasted strangely with the scarce-audible words with which she had
+just spoken.
+
+The stranger smiled with the same melancholy sweetness which she had
+shown before.
+
+"Yes," said she; "but do not agitate yourself, dearest."
+
+"And have you nursed me?"
+
+"Partly. But you are in the house of one who is like an angel in her
+loving care of you."
+
+"But you--you?" persisted Beatrice; "you did not perish, then, as they
+said?"
+
+"No," replied the stranger; "it was not permitted me."
+
+"Thank God!" murmured Beatrice, fervently. "_He_ has one sorrow less.
+Did _he_ save you?"
+
+"He," said Edith, "of whom you speak does not know that I am alive, nor
+do I know where he is. Yet some day we will perhaps meet. And now you
+must not speak. You will agitate yourself too much. Here you have those
+who love you. For the one who brought you here is one who would lay down
+his life for yours, dearest--he is Paolo Langhetti."
+
+"Langhetti!" said Beatrice. "Oh, God be thanked!"
+
+"And she who has taken you to her heart and home is his sister."
+
+"His sister Teresa, of whom he used to speak so lovingly? Ah! God is
+kinder to me than I feared. Ah, me! it is as though I had died and have
+awaked in heaven."
+
+"But now I will speak no more, and you must speak no more, for you will
+only increase your agitation. Rest, and another time you can ask what
+you please."
+
+Edith turned away and walked to one of the windows, where she looked out
+pensively upon the sea.
+
+From this time Beatrice began to recover rapidly. Langhetti's sister
+seemed to her almost like an old friend since she had been associated
+with some of her most pleasant memories. An atmosphere of love was
+around her: the poor sufferer inhaled the pure and life-giving air, and
+strength came with every breath.
+
+At length she was able to sit up, and then Langhetti saw her. He greeted
+her with all the ardent and impassioned warmth which was so striking a
+characteristic of his impulsive and affectionate nature. Then she saw
+Despard.
+
+There was something about this man which filled her with indefinable
+emotions. The knowledge which she had of the mysterious fate of his
+father did not repel her from him. A wonderful and subtle sympathy
+seemed at once to arise between the two. The stern face of Despard
+assumed a softer and more genial expression when he saw her. His tone
+was gentle and affectionate, almost paternal.
+
+[Illustration: "AS BEATRICE OPENED HER EYES AFTER HER LONG
+UNCONSCIOUSNESS SHE LOOKED AROUND IN WONDER."]
+
+
+What was the feeling that arose within her heart toward this man? With
+the one for her Father who had inflicted on his father so terrible a
+fate, how did she dare to look him in the face or exchange words with
+him? Should she not rather shrink away as once she shrank from Brandon?
+
+Yet she did not shrink. His presence brought a strange peace and calm
+over her soul. His influence was more potent over her than that of
+Langhetti. In this strange company he seemed to her to be the centre and
+the chief.
+
+To Beatrice Edith was an impenetrable mystery. Her whole manner excited
+her deepest reverence and at the same time her strongest curiosity. The
+fact that she was _his_ sister would of itself have won her heart; but
+there were other things about her which affected her strangely.
+
+Edith moved among the others with a strange, far-off air, an air at once
+full of gentle affection, yet preoccupied. Her manner indicated love,
+yet the love of one who was far above them. She was like some grown
+person associating with young children whom he loved. "Her soul was like
+a star and dwelt apart."
+
+Paolo seemed more like an equal; but Paolo himself approached equality
+only because he could understand her best. He alone could enter
+into communion with her. Beatrice noticed a profound and unalterable
+reverence in his manner toward Edith, which was like that which a son
+might pay a mother, yet more delicate and more chivalrous. All this,
+however, was beyond her comprehension.
+
+She once questioned Mrs. Thornton, but received no satisfaction. Mrs.
+Thornton looked mysterious, but shook her head.
+
+"Your brother treats her like a divinity."
+
+"I suppose he thinks she is something more than mortal."
+
+"Do you have that awe of her which I feel?"
+
+"Yes; and so does every one. I feel toward her as though she belonged to
+another world. She takes no interest in this."
+
+"She nursed me."
+
+"Oh yes! Every act of love or kindness which she can perform she seeks
+out and does, but now as you grow better she falls back upon herself."
+
+Surrounded by such friends as these Beatrice rapidly regained her
+strength. Weeks went on, and at length she began to move about, to take
+long rides and drives, and to stroll through the Park.
+
+During these weeks Paolo made known to her his plans. She embraced them
+eagerly.
+
+"You have a mission," said he. "It was not for nothing that your
+divine voice was given to you. I have written my opera under the most
+extraordinary circumstances. You know what it is. Never have I been able
+to decide how it should be represented. I have prayed for a Voice. At my
+time of need you were thrown in my way. My Bice, God has sent you. Let
+us labor together."
+
+Beatrice grasped eagerly at this idea. To be a singer, to interpret
+the thoughts of Langhetti, seemed delightful to her. She would then be
+dependent on no friend. She would be her own mistress. She would not be
+forced to lead a life of idleness, with her heart preying upon itself.
+Music would come to her aid. It would be at once the purpose, the
+employment, and the delight of her life. If there was one thing to her
+which could alleviate sorrow and grief it was the exultant joy which was
+created within her by the Divine Art--that Art which alone is common to
+earth and heaven. And for Beatrice there was this joy, that she had one
+of those natures which was so sensitive to music that under its power
+heaven itself appeared to open before her.
+
+All these were lovers of music, and therefore had delights to which
+common mortals are strangers. To the soul which is endowed with the
+capacity for understanding the delights of tone there are joys peculiar,
+at once pure and enduring, which nothing else that this world gives can
+equal.
+
+Langhetti was the high-priest of this charmed circle. Edith was
+the presiding or inspiring divinity. Beatrice was the medium of
+utterance--the Voice that brought down heaven to earth.
+
+Mrs. Thornton and Despard stood apart, the recipients of the sublime
+effects and holy emotions which the others wrought out within them.
+
+Edith was like the soul.
+
+Langhetti like the mind.
+
+Beatrice resembled the material element by which the spiritual is
+communicated to man. Hers was the Voice which spoke.
+
+Langhetti thought that they as a trio of powers formed a means of
+communicating new revelations to man. It was natural indeed that he
+in his high and generous enthusiasm should have some such thoughts as
+these, and should look forward with delight to the time when his work
+should first be performed. Edith, who lived and moved in an atmosphere
+beyond human feeling, was above the level of his enthusiasm; but
+Beatrice caught it all, and in her own generous and susceptible nature
+this purpose of Langhetti produced the most powerful effects.
+
+In the church where Mrs. Thornton and Despard had so often met there
+was now a new performance. Here Langhetti played, Beatrice sang, Edith
+smiled as she heard the expression of heavenly ideas, and Despard and
+Mrs. Thornton found themselves borne away from all common thoughts by
+the power of that sublime rehearsal.
+
+As time passed and Beatrice grew stronger Langhetti became more
+impatient about his opera. The voice of Beatrice, always marvelous,
+had not suffered during her sickness. Nay, if any thing, it had grown
+better; her soul had gained new susceptibilities since Langhetti
+last saw her, and since she could understand more and feel more, her
+expression itself had become more subtle and refined. So that Voice
+which Langhetti had always called divine had put forth new powers, and
+be, if he believed himself the High-Priest and Beatrice the Pythian, saw
+that her inspiration had grown more delicate and more profound.
+
+"We will not set up a new Delphi," said he. "Our revelations are not
+new. We but give fresh and extraordinary emphasis to old and eternal
+truths."
+
+In preparing for the great work before them it was necessary to get a
+name for Beatrice. Her own name was doubly abhorrent--first, from her
+own life-long hate of it, which later circumstances had intensified;
+and, secondly, from the damning effect which such a name would have on
+the fortune of any _artiste_. Langhetti wished her to take his name, but
+Despard showed an extraordinary pertinacity on this point.
+
+"No," said he, "I am personally concerned in this. I adopted her. She
+is my sister. Her name is Despard. If she takes any other name I shall
+consider it as an intolerable slight."
+
+He expressed himself so strongly that Beatrice could not refuse.
+Formerly she would have considered that it was infamous for her to take
+that noble name; but now this idea had become weak, and it was with a
+strange exultation that she yielded to the solicitations of Despard.
+
+Langhetti himself yielded at once. His face bore an expression of
+delight which seemed inexplicable to Beatrice. She asked him why he felt
+such pleasure. Was not an Italian name better for a singer? Despard was
+an English name, and, though aristocratic, was not one which a great
+singer might have.
+
+"I am thinking of other things, my Bicina," said Langhetti, who had
+never given up his old, fond, fraternal manner toward her. "It has no
+connection with art. I do not consider the mere effect of the name for
+one moment."
+
+"What is it, then, that you do consider?"
+
+"Other things."
+
+"What other things?"
+
+"Not connected with Art," continued Langhetti, evasively. "I will tell
+you some day when the time comes."
+
+"Now you are exciting my curiosity," said Beatrice, in a low and earnest
+tone. "You do not know what thoughts you excite within me. Either you
+ought not to excite such ideas, or if you do, it is your duty to satisfy
+them."
+
+"It is not time yet."
+
+"What do you mean by that?"
+
+"That is a secret."
+
+"Of course; you make it one; but if it is one connected with me, then
+surely I ought to know."
+
+"It is not time yet for you to know."
+
+"When will it be time?"
+
+"I can not tell."
+
+"And you will therefore keep it a secret forever?"
+
+"I hope, my Bicina, that the time will come before long."
+
+"Yet why do you wait, if you know or even suspect any thing in which I
+am concerned?"
+
+"I wish to spare you."
+
+"That is not necessary. Am I so weak that I can not bear to hear any
+thing which you may have to tell? You forget what a life I have had for
+two years. Such a life might well prepare me for any thing."
+
+"If it were merely something which might create sorrow I would tell it.
+I believe that you have a self-reliant nature, which has grown stronger
+through affliction. But that which I have to tell is different. It is
+of such a character that it would of necessity destroy any peace of mind
+which you have, and fill you with hopes and feelings that could never be
+satisfied."
+
+"Yet even that I could bear. Do you not see that by your very vagueness
+you are exciting my thoughts and hopes? You do not know what I know."
+
+"What do you know?" asked Langhetti, eagerly.
+
+Beatrice hesitated. No; she could not tell. That would be to tell all
+the holiest secrets of her heart. For she must then tell about Brandon,
+and the African island, and the manuscript which he carried and which
+had been taken from his bosom. Of this she dared not speak.
+
+She was silent.
+
+"You can not _know_ any thing," said Langhetti. "You may suspect much.
+I only have suspicions. Yet it would not be wise to communicate these
+to you, since they would prove idle and without result." So the
+conversation ended, and Langhetti still maintained his secret, though
+Beatrice hoped to find it out.
+
+At length she was sufficiently recovered to be able to begin the work
+to which Langhetti wished to lead her. It was August, and Langhetti
+was impatient to be gone. So when August began he made preparations to
+depart, and in a few days they were in London. Edith was left with Mrs.
+Thornton. Beatrice had an attendant who went with her, half chaperon
+half lady's maid.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI
+
+
+THE AFFAIRS OF SMITHERS & CO.
+
+For more than a year the vast operations of Smithers & Co. had
+astonished business circles in London. Formerly they had been considered
+as an eminently respectable house, and as doing a safe business; but of
+late all this had been changed in so sudden and wonderful a manner that
+no one could account for it. Leaving aside their old, cautious policy,
+they undertook without hesitation the largest enterprises. Foreign
+railroads, national loans, vast joint-stock companies, these were the
+things that now occupied Smithers & Co. The Barings themselves were
+outrivaled, and Smithers & Co. reached the acme of their sudden glory
+on one occasion, when they took the new Spanish loan out of the grasp of
+even the Rothschilds themselves.
+
+How to account for it became the problem. For, allowing the largest
+possible success in their former business to Smithers & Co., that
+business had never been of sufficient dimensions to allow of this. Some
+said that a rich Indian had become a sleeping partner, others declared
+that the real Smithers was no more to be seen, and that the business was
+managed by strangers who had bought them out and retained their
+name. Others again said that Smithers & Co. had made large amounts in
+California mining speculations. At length the general belief was, that
+some individuals who had made millions of money in California had bought
+out Smithers & Co., and were now doing business under their name. As
+to their soundness there was no question. Their operations were such as
+demanded, first of all, ready money in unlimited quantities. This they
+were always able to command. Between them and the Bank of England
+there seemed to be the most perfect understanding and the most enviable
+confidence. The Rothschilds spoke of them with infinite respect. People
+began to look upon them as the leading house in Europe. The sudden
+apparition of this tremendous power in the commercial world threw that
+world into a state of consternation which finally ended in wondering
+awe.
+
+But Smithers & Co. continued calmly, yet successfully, their great
+enterprises. The Russian loan of fifteen millions was negotiated by
+them. They took twenty millions of the French loan, five millions of the
+Austrian, and two and a half of the Turkish. They took nearly all the
+stock of the Lyons and Marseilles Railroad. They owned a large portion
+of the stock of the Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation Company.
+They had ten millions of East India stock. California alone, which
+was now dazzling the world, could account to the common mind for such
+enormous wealth. The strangest thing was that Smithers himself was never
+seen. The business was done by his subordinates. There was a young man
+who represented the house in public, and who called himself Henderson.
+He was a person of distinguished aspect, yet of reserved and somewhat
+melancholy manner. No one pretended to be in his confidence. No one
+pretended to know whether he was clerk or partner. As he was the only
+representative of Smithers & Co., he was treated with marked respect
+wherever he appeared.
+
+The young man, whether partner or clerk, had evidently the supreme
+control of affairs. He swayed in his own hands the thunder-bolts of this
+Olympian power. Nothing daunted him. The grandeur of his enterprises
+dazzled the public mind. His calm antagonism to the great houses of
+London filled them with surprise. A new power had seized a high place
+in the commercial world, and the old gods--the Rothschilds, the
+Barings, and others--looked aghast. At first they tried to despise this
+interloper; at length they found him at least as strong as themselves,
+and began to fancy that he might be stronger. A few experiments soon
+taught them that there was no weakness there. On one occasion the
+Rothschilds, true to their ordinary selfish policy, made a desperate
+attempt to crush the new house which dared to enter into rivalry with
+them. Widespread plans were arranged in such a way that large demands
+were made upon them on one day. The amount was nearly two millions.
+Smithers & Co. showed not the smallest hesitation. Henderson, their
+representative, did not even take the trouble to confer with the Bank of
+England. He sent his orders to the Bank. The money was furnished. It was
+the Directors of the Bank of England who looked aghast at this struggle
+between Rothschild and Smithers & Co. The gold in the Bank vaults sank
+low, and the next day the rates of discount were raised. All London felt
+the result of that struggle.
+
+Smithers & Co. waited for a few months, and then suddenly retorted with
+terrific force. The obligations of the Rothschilds were obtained from
+all quarters--some which were due were held over and not presented
+till the appointed day. Obligations in many forms--in all the forms
+of indebtedness that may arise in a vast business--all these had been
+collected from various quarters with untiring industry and extraordinary
+outlay of care and money. At last in one day they were all poured upon
+the Rothschilds. Nearly four millions of money were required to meet
+that demand.
+
+The great house of Rothschild reeled under the blow. Smithers & Co. were
+the ones who administered it. James Rothschild had a private interview
+with the Directors of the Bank of England. There was a sudden and
+enormous sale of securities that day on Change. In selling out
+such large amounts the loss was enormous. It was difficult to find
+purchasers, but Smithers & Co. stepped forward and bought nearly all
+that was offered. The Rothschilds saved themselves, of course, but at a
+terrible loss, which became the profits of Smithers & Co.
+
+The Rothschilds retreated from the conflict utterly routed, and glad to
+escape disaster of a worse kind. Smithers & Co. came forth victorious.
+They had beaten the Rothschilds at their own game, and had made at
+least half a million. All London rang with the story. It was a bitter
+humiliation for that proud Jewish house which for years had never met
+with a rival. Yet there was no help, nor was there the slightest chance
+of revenge. They were forced to swallow the result as best they could,
+and to try to regain what they had lost.
+
+After this the pale and melancholy face of Henderson excited a deeper
+interest. This was the man who had beaten the Rothschilds--the strongest
+capitalist in the world. In his financial operations he continued as
+calm, as grave, and as immovable as ever. He would risk millions
+without moving a muscle of his countenance. Yet so sagacious was he, so
+wide-spread were his agencies, so accurate was his secret information,
+that his plans scarcely ever failed. His capital was so vast that it
+often gave him control of the market. Coming into the field untrammeled
+as the older houses were, he had a larger control of money than any of
+them, and far greater freedom of action.
+
+After a time the Rothschilds, the Barings, and other great bankers,
+began to learn that Smithers & Co. had vast funds every where, in all
+the capitals of Europe, and in America. Even in the West Indies their
+operations were extensive. Their old Australian agency was enlarged, and
+a new banking-house founded by them in Calcutta began to act on the same
+vast scale as the leading house at London. Smithers & Co. also continued
+to carry on a policy which was hostile to those older bankers. The
+Rothschilds in particular felt this, and were in perpetual dread of a
+renewal of that tremendous assault under which they had once nearly gone
+down. They became timid, and were compelled to arrange their business
+so as to guard against this possibility. This, of course, checked their
+operations, and widened and enlarged the field of action for their
+rivals.
+
+No one knew any thing whatever about Henderson. None of the clerks could
+tell any thing concerning him. They were all new hands. None of them
+had ever seen Smithers. They all believed that Henderson was the junior
+partner, and that the senior spent his time abroad. From this it began
+to be believed that Smithers staid in California digging gold, which he
+diligently remitted to the London house.
+
+At length the clerks began to speak mysteriously of a man who came from
+time to time to the office, and whose whole manner showed him to possess
+authority there. The treatment which he received from Henderson--at once
+cordial and affectionate--showed them to be most intimate and friendly;
+and from words which were dropped they all thought him to be the senior
+partner. Yet he appeared to be very little older than Henderson, if
+as old, and no one even knew his name. If any thing could add to the
+interest with which the house of Smithers & Co. was regarded it was this
+impenetrable mystery, which baffled not merely outriders but even the
+clerks themselves.
+
+Shortly after the departure of Langhetti and Beatrice from Holby two men
+were seated in the inner parlor of the office of Smithers & Co. One was
+the man known as Henderson, the other the mysterious senior partner.
+
+They had just come in and letters were lying on the table.
+
+"You've got a large number this morning, Frank?" said the senior
+partner.
+
+"Yes," said Frank, turning them over; "and here, Louis, is one for you."
+He took out a letter from the pile and handed it to Louis. "It's from
+your Brandon Hall correspondent," he added.
+
+Louis sat down and opened it. The letter was as follows:
+
+"August 15, 1840.
+
+"DEAR SIR,--I have had nothing in particular to write since the flight
+of Miss Potts, except to tell you what they were doing. I have already
+informed you that they kept three spies at Holby to watch her. One of
+these returned, as I told you in my last letter, with the information
+that she had gone to London with a party named Langhetti. Ever since
+then _they_ have been talking it over, and have come to the conclusion
+to get a detective and keep him busy watching her with the idea of
+getting her back, I think. I hope to God they will not get her back. If
+you take any interest in her, Sir, as you appear to do, I hope you will
+use your powerful arm to save her. It will be terrible if she has to
+come back here. She will die, I know. Hoping soon to have something more
+to communicate,
+
+"I remain, yours respectfully,
+
+"E.L.
+
+"Mr. Smithers, Sen., London."
+
+[Illustration: "LANGHETTI IS ALIVE."]
+
+Louis read this letter over several times and fell into deep thought.
+
+Frank went on reading his letters, looking up from time to time. At last
+he put down the last one.
+
+"Louis!" said he.
+
+Louis looked up.
+
+"You came so late last night that I haven't had a chance to speak about
+any thing yet. I want to tell you something very important."
+
+"Well!"
+
+"Langhetti is alive."
+
+"I know it."
+
+"You knew it! When? Why did you not tell me?"
+
+"I didn't want to tell any thing that might distract you from your
+purpose."
+
+"I am not a child, Louis! After my victory over Rothschild I ought to be
+worthy of your confidence."
+
+"That's not the point, Frank," said Louis; "but I know your affection
+for the man, and I thought you would give up all to find him."
+
+"Well!"
+
+"Well. I thought it would be better to let nothing interpose now between
+us and our purpose. No," he continued, with a stern tone, "no, no
+one however dear, however loved, and therefore I said nothing about
+Langhetti. I thought that your generous heart would only be distressed.
+You would feel like giving up every thing to find him out and see him,
+and, therefore, I did not wish you even to know it. Yet I have kept an
+account of his movements, and know where he is now."
+
+"He is here in London," said Frank, with deep emotion.
+
+"Yes, thank God!" said Louis. "You will see him, and we all will be able
+to meet some day."
+
+"But," asked Frank, "do you not think Langhetti is a man to be trusted?"
+
+"That is not the point," replied Louis. "I believe Langhetti is one of
+the noblest men that ever lived. It must be so from what I have heard.
+All my life I will cherish his name and try to assist him in every
+possible way. I believe also that if we requested it he might perhaps
+keep our secret. But that is not the point, Frank. This is the way I
+look at it: We are dead. Our deaths have been recorded. Louis Brandon
+and Frank Brandon have perished. I am Wheeler, or Smithers, or Forsyth,
+or any body else; you are Henderson. We keep our secret because we
+have a purpose before us. Our father calls us from his tomb to its
+accomplishment. Our mother summons us. Our sweet sister Edith, from her
+grave of horror unutterable, calls us. All personal feeling must stand
+aside, Frank--yours and mine--whatever they be, till we have done our
+duty."
+
+"You are right, Louis," said Frank, sternly.
+
+"Langhetti is in London," continued Louis. "You will not see him,
+but you can show your gratitude, and so can I. He is going to hire an
+opera-house to bring out an opera; I saw that in the papers. It is a
+thing full of risk, but he perhaps does not think of that. Let us enable
+him to gain the desire of his heart. Let us fill the house for him.
+You can send your agents to furnish tickets to people who may make the
+audience; or you can send around those who can praise him sufficiently.
+I don't know what his opera may be worth. I know, however, from what I
+have learned, that he has musical genius; and I think if we give him
+a good start he will succeed. That is the way to show your gratitude,
+Frank."
+
+"I'll arrange all that!" said Frank. "The house shall be crowded. I'll
+send an agent to him--I can easily find out where he is, I suppose--and
+make him an offer of Covent Garden theatre on his own terms. Yes,
+Langhetti shall have a fair chance. I'll arrange a plan to enforce
+success."
+
+"Do so, and you will keep him permanently in London till the time comes
+when we can arise from the dead."
+
+They were silent for a long time. Louis had thoughts of his own, excited
+by the letter which he had received, and these thoughts he did not care
+to utter. One thing was a secret even from Frank.
+
+And what could he do? That Beatrice had fallen among friends he well
+knew. He had found this out when, after receiving a letter from Philips
+about her flight, he had hurried there and learned the result. Then he
+had himself gone to Holby, and found that she was at Mrs. Thornton's. He
+had watched till she had recovered. He had seen her as she took a drive
+in Thornton's carriage. He had left an agent there to write him about
+her when he left.
+
+What was he to do now? He read the letter over again. He paused at
+that sentence: "They have been talking it over, and have come to the
+conclusion to get a detective, and keep him busy watching her with the
+idea of getting her back."
+
+What was the nature of this danger? Beatrice was of age. She was with
+Langhetti. She was her own mistress. Could there be any danger of her
+being taken back against her will? The villains at Brandon Hall were
+sufficiently unscrupulous, but would they dare to commit any violence?
+and if they did, would not Langhetti's protection save her?
+
+Such were his thoughts. Yet, on the other hand, he considered the
+fact that she was inexperienced, and might have peculiar ideas about
+a father's authority. If Potts came himself, demanding her return,
+perhaps, out of a mistaken sense of filial duty, she might go with him.
+Or, even if she was unwilling to do so, she might yield to coercion, and
+not feel justified in resisting. The possibility of this filled him
+with horror. The idea of her being taken back to live under the power of
+those miscreants from whom she had escaped was intolerable. Yet he knew
+not what to do.
+
+Between him and her there was a gulf unfathomable, impassable. She was
+one of that accursed brood which he was seeking to exterminate. He would
+spare her if possible; he would gladly lay down his life to save her
+from one moment's misery; but if she stood in the way of his vengeance,
+could he--dared he stay that vengeance? For that he would sacrifice life
+itself! Would he refuse to sacrifice even _her_ if she were more dear
+than life itself?
+
+Yet here was a case in which she was no longer connected with, but
+striving to sever herself from them. She was flying from that accursed
+father of hers. Would he stand idly by, and see her in danger? That were
+impossible. All along, ever since his return to England, he had watched
+over her, unseen himself and unsuspected by her, and had followed her
+footsteps when she fled. To desert her now was impossible. The only
+question with him was--how to watch her or guard her.
+
+One thing gave him comfort, and that was the guardianship of Langhetti.
+This he thought was sufficient to insure her safety. For surely
+Langhetti would know the character of her enemies as well as Beatrice
+herself, and so guard her as to insure her safety from any attempt
+of theirs. He therefore placed his chief reliance on Langhetti, and
+determined merely to secure some one who would watch over her, and let
+him know from day to day how she fared. Had he thought it necessary he
+would have sent a band of men to watch and guard her by day and night;
+but this idea never entered his mind for the simple reason that he did
+not think the danger was pressing. England was after all a country of
+law, and even a father could not carry off his daughter against her will
+when she was of age. So he comforted himself.
+
+"Well," said he, at last, rousing himself from his abstraction, "how is
+Potts now?"
+
+"Deeper than ever," answered Frank, quietly.
+
+"The Brandon Bank--"
+
+"The Brandon Bank has been going at a rate that would have foundered any
+other concern long ago. There's not a man that I sent there who has not
+been welcomed and obtained all that he wanted. Most of the money that
+they advanced has been to men that I sent. They drew on us for the money
+and sent us various securities of their own, holding the securities
+of these applicants. It is simply bewildering to think how easily that
+scoundrel fell into the snare."
+
+"When a man has made a fortune easily he gets rid of it easily," said
+Louis, laconically. "Potts thinks that all his applicants are leading
+men of the county. I take good care that they go there as baronets at
+least. Some are lords. He is overpowered in the presence of these lords,
+and gives them what they ask on their own terms. In his letters he
+has made some attempts at an expression of gratitude for our great
+liberality. This I enjoyed somewhat. The villain is not a difficult one
+to manage, at least in the financial way. I leave the denouement to you,
+Louis."
+
+"The denouement must not be long delayed now."
+
+"Well, for that matter things are so arranged that we may have 'the
+beginning of the end' as soon as you choose."
+
+"What are the debts of the Brandon Bank to us now?"
+
+"Five hundred and fifteen thousand one hundred and fifty pounds," said
+Frank.
+
+"Five hundred thousand--very good," returned Louis, thoughtfully. "And
+how is the sum secured?"
+
+"Chiefly by acknowledgments from the bank with the indorsement of John
+Potts, President."
+
+"What are the other liabilities?"
+
+"He has implored me to purchase for him or sell him some California
+stock. I have reluctantly consented to do so," continued Frank, with a
+sardonic smile, "entirely through the request of my senior, and he has
+taken a hundred shares at a thousand pounds each."
+
+"One hundred thousand pounds," said Louis.
+
+"I consented to take his notes," continued Frank, "purely out of regard
+to the recommendations of my senior."
+
+"Any thing else?" asked Louis.
+
+"He urged me to recommend him to a good broker who might purchase stock
+for him in reliable companies. I created a broker and recommended him.
+He asked me also confidentially to tell him which stocks were best, so
+I kindly advised him to purchase the Mexican and the Guatemala loan. I
+also recommended the Venezuela bonds. I threw all these into the market,
+and by dextrous manipulation raised the price to 3 per cent, premium. He
+paid L103 for every L100. When he wants to sell out, as he may one day
+wish to do, he will be lucky if he gets 35 per cent"
+
+"How much did he buy?"
+
+"Mexican loan, fifty thousand; Guatemala, fifty thousand; and Venezuela
+bonds, fifty thousand."
+
+"He is quite lavish."
+
+"Oh, quite. That makes it so pleasant to do business with him."
+
+"Did you advance the money for this?"
+
+"He did not ask it. He raised the money somehow, perhaps from our old
+advances, and bought them from the broker. The broker was of course
+myself. The beauty of all this is, that I send applicants for money, who
+give their notes; he gets money from me and gives his notes to me, and
+then advances the money to these applicants, who bring it back to me.
+It's odd, isn't it?"
+
+Louis smiled.
+
+"Has he no _bona fide_ debtors in his own county?"
+
+"Oh yes, plenty of them; but more than half of his advances have been
+made to my men.
+
+"Did you hint any thing about issuing notes?"
+
+"Oh yes, and the bait took wonderfully. He made his bank a bank of issue
+at once, and sent out a hundred and fifty thousand pounds in notes. I
+think it was in this way that he got the money for all that American
+stock. At any rate, it helped him. As he has only a small supply of gold
+in his vaults, you may very readily conjecture his peculiar position."
+
+Louis was silent for a time.
+
+"You have managed admirably, Frank," said he at last.
+
+"Oh," rejoined Frank, "Potts is very small game, financially. There is
+no skill needed in playing with him. He is such a clumsy bungler that he
+does whatever one wishes. There is not even excitement. Whatever I tell
+him to do he does. Now if I were anxious to crush the Rothschilds, it
+would be very different. There would then be a chance for skill."
+
+"You have had the chance."
+
+"I did not wish to ruin them," said Frank. "Too many innocent people
+would have suffered. I only wished to alarm them. I rather think, from
+what I hear, that they were a little disturbed on that day when they had
+to pay four millions. Yet I could have crushed them if I had chosen, and
+I managed things so as to let them see this."
+
+"How?"
+
+"I controlled other engagements of theirs, and on the same day I
+magnanimously wrote them a letter, saying that I would not press for
+payment, as their notes were as good to me as money. Had I pressed they
+would have gone down. Nothing could have saved them. But I did not wish
+that. The fact is they have locked up their means very much, and have
+been rather careless of late. They have learned a lesson now."
+
+Louis relapsed into his reflections, and Frank began to answer his
+letters.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII
+
+
+THE "PROMETHEUS."
+
+It took some time for Langhetti to make his preparations in London.
+September came before he had completed them. To his surprise these
+arrangements were much easier than he had supposed. People came to him
+of their own accord before he thought it possible that they could
+have heard of his project. What most surprised him was a call from the
+manager of Covent Garden Theatre, who offered to put it into his hands
+for a price so low as to surprise Langhetti more than any thing else
+that had occurred. Of course he accepted the offer gratefully and
+eagerly. The manager said that the building was on his hands, and he did
+not wish to use it for the present, for which reason he would be glad to
+turn it over to him. He remarked also that there was very much stock in
+the theatre that could be made use of, for which he would charge
+nothing whatever. Langhetti went to see it, and found a large number
+of magnificently painted scenes, which could be used in his piece. On
+asking the manager how scenes of this sort came to be there, he learned
+that some one had been representing the "Midsummer Night's Dream," or
+something of that sort.
+
+Langhetti's means were very limited, and as he had risked every thing
+on this experiment he was rejoiced to find events so very greatly in his
+favor.
+
+Another circumstance which was equally in his favor, if not more so,
+was the kind consideration of the London papers. They announced his
+forthcoming work over and over again. Some of their writers came to
+see him so as to get the particulars, and what little he told them they
+described in the most attractive and effective manner.
+
+A large number of people presented themselves to form his company, and
+he also received applications by letter from many whose eminence and
+fortunes placed them above the need of any such thing. It was simply
+incomprehensible to Langhetti, who thoroughly understood the ways of the
+musical world; yet since they offered he was only too happy to accept.
+On having interviews with these persons he was amazed to find that they
+were one and all totally indifferent about terms; they all assured him
+that they were ready to take any part whatever, and merely wished to
+assist in the representation of a piece so new and so original as his
+was said to be. They all named a price which was excessively low, and
+assured him that they did so only for form's sake; positively refusing
+to accept any thing more, and leaving it to Langhetti either to take
+them on their own terms or to reject them. He, of course, could not
+reject aid so powerful and so unexpected.
+
+At length, he had his rehearsal. After various trials he invited
+representatives of the London Press to be present at the last. They
+all came, and all without exception wrote the most glowing accounts for
+their respective journals.
+
+"I don't know how it is," said he to Beatrice. "Every thing has come
+into my hands. I don't understand it. It seems to me exactly as if there
+was some powerful, unseen hand assisting me; some one who secretly put
+every thing in my way, who paid these artists first and then sent them
+to me, and influenced all the journals in my favor. I should be sure
+of this if it were not a more incredible thing than the actual result
+itself. As it is I am simply perplexed and bewildered. It is a thing
+that is without parallel. I have a company such as no one has ever
+before gathered together on one stage. I have eminent prima donnas who
+are quite willing to sing second and third parts without caring what I
+pay them, or whether I pay them or not. I know the musical world. All I
+can say is that the thing is unexampled, and I can not comprehend it.
+I have tried to find out from some of them what it all means, but they
+give me no satisfaction. At any rate, my Bicina, you will make your
+_debut_ under the most favorable circumstances. You saw how they admired
+your voice at the rehearsal. The world shall admire it still more at
+your first performance."
+
+Langhetti was puzzled, and, as he said, bewildered, but he did not
+slacken a single effort to make his opera successful. His exertions were
+as unremitting as though he were still struggling against difficulties.
+After all that had been done for him he knew very well that he was sure
+of a good house, yet he worked as hard as though his audience was very
+uncertain.
+
+At length the appointed evening came. Langhetti had certainly expected
+a good house from those happy accidents which had given him the
+co-operation of the entire musical world and of the press. Yet when he
+looked out and saw the house that waited for the rising of the curtain
+he was overwhelmed.
+
+When he thus looked out it was long before the time. A great murmur had
+attracted his attention. He saw the house crammed in every part. All the
+boxes were filled. In the pit was a vast congregation of gentlemen and
+ladies, the very galleries were thronged.
+
+The wonder that had all along filled him was now greater than ever.
+He well knew under what circumstances even an ordinarily good house is
+collected together. There must either be undoubted fame in the prima
+donna, or else the most wide-spread and comprehensive efforts on the
+part of a skillful impresario. His efforts had been great, but not such
+as to insure any thing like this. To account for the prodigious crowd
+which filled every part of the large edifice was simply impossible.
+
+He did not attempt to account for it. He accepted the situation, and
+prepared for the performance.
+
+What sort of an idea that audience may have had of the "Prometheus" of
+Langhetti need hardly be conjectured. They had heard of it as a novelty.
+They had heard that the company was the best ever collected at one time,
+and that the prima donna was a prodigy of genius. That was enough for
+them. They waited in a state of expectation which was so high-pitched
+that it would have proved disastrous in the extreme to any piece, or any
+singer who should have proved to be in the slightest degree inferior.
+Consummate excellence alone in every part could now save the piece from
+ruin. This Langhetti felt; but he was calm, for he had confidence in his
+work and in his company. Most of all, he had confidence in Beatrice.
+
+At last the curtain rose.
+
+The scene was such a one as had never before been represented. A blaze
+of dazzling light filled the stage, and before it stood seven forms,
+representing the seven archangels. They began one of the sublimest
+strains ever heard. Each of these singers had in some way won eminence.
+They had thrown themselves into this work. The music which had been
+given to them had produced an exalted effect upon their own hearts, and
+now they rendered forth that grand "Chorus of Angels" which those who
+heard the "Prometheus" have never forgotten. The words resembled, in
+some measure, the opening song in Goethe's "Faust," but the music was
+Langhetti's.
+
+The effect of this magnificent opening was wonderful. The audience sat
+spell-bound--hushed into stillness by those transcendent harmonies which
+seemed like the very song of the angels themselves; like that "new song"
+which is spoken of in Revelation. The grandeur of Handel's stupendous
+chords was renewed, and every one present felt its power.
+
+Then came the second scene. Prometheus lay suffering. The ocean nymphs
+were around him, sympathizing with his woes. The sufferer lay chained to
+a bleak rock in the summit of frosty Caucasus. Far and wide extended
+an expanse of ice. In the distance arose a vast world of snow-coveted
+peaks. In front was a _mer de glace_, which extended all along the
+stage.
+
+Prometheus addressed all nature--"the divine ether, the swift-winged
+winds, Earth the All-mother, and the infinite laughter of the ocean
+waves." The thoughts were those of Aeschylus, expressed by the music of
+Langhetti.
+
+The ocean nymphs bewailed him in a song of mournful sweetness, whose
+indescribable pathos touched every heart. It was the intensity of
+sympathy--sympathy so profound that it became anguish, for the heart
+that felt it had identified itself with the heart of the sufferer.
+
+Then followed an extraordinary strain. It was the Voice of Universal
+Nature, animate and inanimate, mourning over the agony of the God of
+Love. In that strain was heard the voice of man, the sighing of the
+winds, the moaning of the sea, the murmur of the trees, the wail of bird
+and beast, all blending in extraordinary unison, and all speaking of
+woe.
+
+And now a third scene opened. It was Athene. Athene represented Wisdom
+or Human Understanding, by which the God of Vengeance is dethroned, and
+gives place to the eternal rule of the God of Love. To but few of those
+present could this idea of Langhetti's be intelligible. The most of them
+merely regarded the fable and its music, without looking for any meaning
+beneath the surface.
+
+To these, and to all, the appearance of Beatrice was like a new
+revelation. She came forward and stood in the costume which the
+Greek has given to Athene, but in her hand she held the olive--her
+emblem--instead of the spear. From beneath her helmet her dark locks
+flowed down and were wreathed in thick waves that clustered heavily
+about her head.
+
+Here, as Athene, the pure classical contour of Beatrice's features
+appeared in marvelous beauty--faultless in their perfect Grecian mould.
+Her large, dark eyes looked with a certain solemn meaning out upon the
+vast audience. Her whole face was refined and sublimed by the thought
+that was within her. In her artistic nature she had appropriated this
+character to herself so thoroughly, that, as she stood there, she felt
+herself to be in reality all that she represented. The spectators
+caught the same feeling from her. Yet so marvelous was her beauty, so
+astonishing was the perfection of her form and feature, so accurate
+was the living representation of the ideal goddess that the whole
+vast audience after one glance burst forth into pealing thunders of
+spontaneous and irresistible applause.
+
+Beatrice had opened her mouth to begin, but as that thunder of
+admiration arose she fell back a pace. Was it the applause that had
+overawed her?
+
+Her eyes were fixed on one spot at the extreme right of the pit. A face
+was there which enchained her. A face, pale, sad, mournful, with dark
+eyes fixed on hers in steadfast despair.
+
+Beatrice faltered and fell back, but it was not at the roar of applause.
+It was that face--the one face among three thousand before her, the
+one, the only one that she saw. Ah, how in that moment all the past came
+rushing before her--the Indian Ocean, the Malay pirate, where that face
+first appeared, the Atlantic, the shipwreck, the long sail over the seas
+in the boat, the African isle!
+
+She stood so long in silence that the spectators wondered.
+
+Suddenly the face which had so transfixed her sank down. He was gone, or
+he had hid himself. Was it because he knew that he was the cause of her
+silence?
+
+The face disappeared, and the spell was broken. Langhetti stood at the
+side-scenes, watching with deep agitation the silence of Beatrice. He
+was on the point of taking the desperate step of going forward when he
+saw that she had regained her composure.
+
+She regained it, and moved a step forward with such calm serenity that
+no one could have suspected her of having lost it. She began to sing. In
+an opera words are nothing--music is all in all. It is sufficient if the
+words express, even in a feeble and general way, the ideas which breathe
+and burn in the music. Thus it was with the words in the opening song of
+Beatrice.
+
+But the music! What language can describe it?
+
+Upon this all the richest stores of Langhetti's genius had been
+lavished. Into this all the soul of Beatrice was thrown with sublime
+self-forgetfulness. She ceased to be herself. Before the audience she
+was Athene.
+
+Her voice, always marvelously rich and full, was now grander and more
+capacious than ever. It poured forth a full stream of matchless harmony
+that carried all the audience captive. Strong, soaring, penetrating, it
+rose easily to the highest notes, and flung them forth with a lavish,
+and at the same time far-reaching power that penetrated every heart, and
+thrilled all who heard it. Roused to the highest enthusiasm by the sight
+of that vast assemblage, Beatrice gave herself up to the intoxication of
+the hour. She threw herself into the spirit of the piece; she took deep
+into her heart the thought of Langhetti, and uttered it forth to the
+listeners with harmonies that were almost divine--such harmonies as they
+had never before heard.
+
+There was the silence of death as she sang. Her voice stilled all other
+sounds. Each listener seemed almost afraid to breathe. Some looked at
+one another in amazement, but most of them sat motionless, with their
+heads stretched forward, unconscious of any thing except that one voice.
+
+[Illustration: "THE APPEARANCE OF BEATRICE WAS LIKE A NEW REVELATION."]
+
+At last it ceased. For a moment there was a pause. Then there arose a
+deep, low thunder of applause that deepened and intensified itself every
+moment till at last it rose on high in one sublime outburst, a frenzy
+of acclamation, such as is heard not seldom, but, once heard, is never
+forgotten.
+
+Beatrice was called out. She came, and retired. Again and again she
+was called. Flowers were showered down in heaps at her feet. The
+acclamations went on, and only ceased through the consciousness that
+more was yet to come. The piece went on. It was one long triumph. At
+last it ended. Beatrice had been loaded with honors. Langhetti was
+called out and welcomed with almost equal enthusiasm. His eyes filled
+with tears of joy as he received this well-merited tribute to his
+genius. He and Beatrice stood on the stage at the same time. Flowers
+were flung at him. He took them and laid them at the feet of Beatrice.
+
+At this a louder roar of acclamation arose. It increased and deepened,
+and the two who stood there felt overwhelmed by the tremendous applause.
+
+So ended the first representation of the "Prometheus!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+
+THE SECRET.
+
+The triumph of Beatrice continued. The daily papers were filled with
+accounts of the new singer. She had come suddenly before them, and had
+at one bound reached the highest eminence. She had eclipsed all the
+popular favorites. Her sublime strains, her glorious enthusiasm, her
+marvelous voice, her perfect beauty, all kindled the popular heart. The
+people forgave her for not having an Italian name, since she had one
+which was so aristocratic. Her whole appearance showed that she
+was something very different from the common order of artistes, as
+different, in fact, as the "Prometheus" was from the common order of
+operas. For here in the "Prometheus" there were no endless iterations
+of the one theme of love, no perpetual repetitions of the same rhyme of
+_amore_ and _cuore_, or _amor'_ and _cuor'_; but rather the effort of
+the soul after sublimer mysteries. The "Prometheus" sought to solve the
+problem of life and of human suffering. Its divine sentiments brought
+hope and consolation. The great singer rose to the altitude of a sibyl;
+she uttered inspirations; she herself was inspired.
+
+As she stood with her grand Grecian beauty, her pure classic features,
+she looked as beautiful as a statue, and as ideal and passionless. In
+one sense she could never be a popular favorite. She had no archness
+or coquetry like some, no voluptuousness like others, no arts to win
+applause like others. Still she stood up and sang as one who believed
+that this was the highest mission of humanity, to utter divine truth to
+human ears. She sang loftily, thrillingly, as an angel might sing, and
+those who saw her revered her while they listened.
+
+And thus it was that the fame of this new singer went quickly
+through England, and foreign journals spoke of it half-wonderingly,
+half-cynically, as usual; for Continentals never have any faith in
+English art, or in the power which any Englishman may have to interpret
+art. The leading French journals conjectured that the "Prometheus" was
+of a religious character, and therefore Puritanical; and consequently
+for that reason was popular. They amused themselves with the idea of
+a Puritanical opera, declared that the English wished to Protestantize
+music, and suggested "Calvin" or "The Sabbath" as good subjects for this
+new and entirely English class of operas.
+
+But soon the correspondents of some of the Continental papers began to
+write glowing accounts of the piece, and to put Langhetti in the same
+class with Handel. He was an Italian, they said, but in this case
+he united Italian grace and versatility with German solemnity and
+melancholy. They declared that he was the greatest of living composers,
+and promised for him a great reputation.
+
+Night after night the representation of the "Prometheus" went on with
+undiminished success; and with a larger and profounder appreciation of
+its meaning among the better class of minds. Langhetti began to show a
+stronger and fuller confidence in the success of his piece than he had
+yet dared to evince. Yet now its success seemed assured. What more could
+he wish?
+
+September came on, and every succeeding night only made the success more
+marked. One day Langhetti was with Beatrice at the theatre, and they
+were talking of many things. There seemed to be something on his mind,
+for he spoke in an abstracted manner. Beatrice noticed this at last, and
+mentioned it.
+
+He was at first very mysterious. "It must be that secret of yours which
+you will not tell me," said she. "You said once before that it was
+connected with me, and that you would tell it to me when the time came.
+Has not the time come yet?"
+
+"Not yet," answered Langhetti.
+
+"When will it come?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"And will you keep it secret always?"
+
+"Perhaps not."
+
+"You speak undecidedly."
+
+"I am undecided."
+
+"Why not decide now to tell it?" pleaded Beatrice. "Why should I not
+know it? Surely I have gone through enough suffering to bear this, even
+if it bring something additional."
+
+Langhetti looked at her long and doubtfully.
+
+"You hesitate," said she.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"It is of too much importance."
+
+"That is all the more reason why I should know it. Would it crush me if
+I knew it?"
+
+"I don't know. It might."
+
+"Then let me be crushed."
+
+Langhetti sighed.
+
+"Is it something that you know for certain, or is it only conjecture?"
+
+"Neither," said he, "but half-way between the two."
+
+Beatrice looked earnestly at him for some time. Then she put her head
+nearer to his and spoke in a solemn whisper.
+
+"It is about my mother!"
+
+Langhetti looked at her with a startled expression.
+
+"Is it not?"
+
+He bowed his head.
+
+"It is--it is. And if so, I implore--I conjure you to tell me. Look--I
+am calm. Think--I am strong. I am not one who can be cast down merely by
+bad news."
+
+"I may tell you soon."
+
+"Say you will."
+
+"I will," said Langhetti, after a struggle.
+
+"When?"
+
+"Soon."
+
+"Why not to-morrow?"
+
+"That is too soon; you are impatient."
+
+"Of course I am," said Beatrice. "Ought I not to be so? Have you not
+said that this concerns me? and is not all my imagination aroused in the
+endeavor to form a conjecture as to what it may be?"
+
+She spoke so earnestly that Langhetti was moved, and looked still more
+undecided.
+
+"When will you tell me?"
+
+"Soon, perhaps," he replied, with some hesitation.
+
+"Why not now?"
+
+"Oh no, I must assure myself first about some things."
+
+"To-morrow, then."
+
+He hesitated.
+
+"Yes," said she; "it must be to-morrow. If you do not, I shall
+think that you have little or no confidence in me. I shall expect it
+to-morrow."
+
+Langhetti was silent.
+
+"I shall expect it to-morrow," repeated Beatrice.
+
+Langhetti still continued silent.
+
+"Oh, very well; silence gives consent!" said she, in a lively tone.
+
+"I have not consented."
+
+"Yes you have, by your silence."
+
+"I was deliberating."
+
+"I asked you twice, and you did not refuse; surely that means consent."
+
+"I do not say so," said Langhetti, earnestly.
+
+"But you will do so."
+
+"Do not be so certain."
+
+"Yes, I will be certain; and if you do not tell me you will very deeply
+disappoint me."
+
+"In telling you I could only give you sorrow."
+
+"Sorrow or joy, whatever it is, I can bear it so long as I know this.
+You will not suppose that I am actuated by simple feminine curiosity.
+You know me better. This secret is one which subjects me to the tortures
+of suspense, and I am anxious to have them removed."
+
+"The removal will be worse than the suspense."
+
+"That is impossible."
+
+"You would not say so if you knew what it was."
+
+"Tell me, then."
+
+"That is what I fear to do."
+
+"Do you fear for me, or for some other person?"
+
+"Only for you."
+
+"Do not fear for me, then, I beseech you; for it is not only my desire,
+but my prayer, that I may know this."
+
+Langhetti seemed to be in deep perplexity. Whatever this secret was with
+which he was so troubled he seemed afraid to tell it to Beatrice, either
+from fear that it might not be any thing in itself or result in any
+thing, or, as seemed more probable, lest it might too greatly affect
+her. This last was the motive which appeared to influence him most
+strongly. In either case, the secret of which he spoke must have been
+one of a highly important character, affecting most deeply the life and
+fortunes of Beatrice herself. She had formed her own ideas and her own
+expectations about it, and this made her all the more urgent, and even
+peremptory, in her demand. In fact, things had come to such a point that
+Langhetti found himself no longer able to refuse, and now only sought
+how to postpone his divulgence of his secret.
+
+Yet even this Beatrice combated, and would listen to no later
+postponement than the morrow.
+
+At length, after long resistance to her demand, Langhetti assented, and
+promised on the morrow to tell her what it was that he had meant by his
+secret.
+
+For, as she gathered from his conversation, it was something that he had
+first discovered in Hong Kong, and had never since forgotten, but had
+tried to make it certain. His efforts had thus far been useless, and
+he did not wish to tell her till he could bring proof. That proof,
+unfortunately, he was not able to find, and he could only tell his
+conjectures.
+
+It was for these, then, that Beatrice waited in anxious expectation.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+
+THE CAB.
+
+That evening Beatrice's performance had been greeted with louder
+applause than usual, and, what was more gratifying to one like her, the
+effective passages had been listened to with a stillness which spoke
+more loudly than the loudest applause of the deep interest of the
+audience.
+
+Langhetti had almost always driven home with her, but on this occasion
+he had excused himself on account of some business in the theatre which
+required his attention.
+
+On going out Beatrice could not find the cabman whom she had employed.
+After looking around for him a long time she found that he had gone.
+She was surprised and vexed. At the same time she could not account for
+this, but thought that perhaps he had been drinking and had forgotten
+all about her. On making this discovery she was on the point of going
+back and telling Langhetti, but a cabman followed her persistently,
+promising to take her wherever she wished, and she thought that it would
+be foolish to trouble Langhetti about so small a matter; so that at
+length she decided to employ the persevering cabman, thinking that he
+could take her to her lodgings as well as any body else.
+
+The cabman started off at a rapid pace, and went on through street after
+street, while Beatrice sat thinking of the evening's performance.
+
+At last it seemed to her that she had been a much longer time than
+usual, and she began to fear that the cabman had lost his way. She
+looked out. They were going along the upper part of Oxford Street, a
+great distance from where she lived. She instantly tried to draw down
+the window so as to attract the cabman's attention, but could not move
+it. She tried the other, but all were fast and would not stir. She
+rapped at the glass to make him hear, but he took no notice. Then she
+tried to open the door, but could not do so from the inside.
+
+She sat down and thought. What could be the meaning of this? They were
+now going at a much faster rate than is common in the streets of London,
+but where she was going she could not conjecture.
+
+She was not afraid. Her chief feeling was one of indignation. Either the
+cabman was drunk--or what? Could he have been hired to carry her off to
+her enemies? Was she betrayed?
+
+This thought flashed like lightning through her mind.
+
+She was not one who would sink down into inaction at the sudden onset of
+terror. Her chief feeling now was one of indignation at the audacity of
+such an attempt. Obeying the first impulse that seized her, she took the
+solid roll of music which she carried with her and dashed it against the
+front window so violently that she broke it in pieces. Then she caught
+the driver by the sleeve and ordered him to stop.
+
+"All right," said the driver, and, turning a corner, he whipped up his
+horses, and they galloped on faster than ever.
+
+"If you don't stop I'll call for help!" cried Beatrice.
+
+The driver's only answer was a fresh application of the whip.
+
+The street up which they turned was narrow, and as it had only
+dwelling-houses it was not so brightly lighted as Oxford Street. There
+were but few foot-passengers on the sidewalk. As it was now about
+midnight, most of the lights were out, and the gas-lamps were the chief
+means of illumination.
+
+Yet there was a chance that the police might save her. With this hope
+she dashed her music scroll against the windows on each side of the cab
+and shivered them to atoms, calling at the top of her voice for help.
+The swift rush of the cab and the sound of a woman's voice shouting
+for aid aroused the police. They started forward. But the horses were
+rushing so swiftly that no one dared to touch them. The driver seemed
+to them to have lost control. They thought that the horses were running
+away, and that those within the cab were frightened.
+
+Away they went through street after street, and Beatrice never ceased
+to call. The excitement which was created by the runaway horses did not
+abate, and at length when the driver stopped a policeman hurried up.
+
+The house before which the cab stopped was a plain two-story one, in a
+quiet-looking street. A light shone from the front-parlor window. As the
+cab drew up the door opened and a man came out.
+
+Beatrice saw the policeman.
+
+"Help!" she cried; "I implore help. This wretch is carrying me away."
+
+"What's this?" growled the policeman.
+
+At this the man that had come out of the house hurried forward.
+
+"Have you found her?" exclaimed a well-known voice. "Oh, my child! How
+could you leave your father's roof!"
+
+It was John Potts.
+
+Beatrice was silent for a moment in utter amazement. Yet she made a
+violent effort against her despair.
+
+"You have no control over me," said she, bitterly. "I am of age. And
+you," said she to the policeman, "I demand your help. I put myself under
+your protection, and order you either to take that man in charge or to
+let me go to my home."
+
+"Oh, my daughter!" cried Potts. "Will you still be relentless?"
+
+"Help me!" cried Beatrice, and she opened the cab-door.
+
+"The policeman can do nothing," said Potts. "You are not of age. He will
+not dare to take you from me."
+
+"I implore you," cried Beatrice, "save me from this man. Take me to the
+police-station--any where rather than leave me here!"
+
+"You can not," said Potts to the bewildered policeman. "Listen. She
+is my daughter and under age. She ran away with a strolling Italian
+vagabond, with whom she is leading an improper life. I have got her
+back."
+
+"It's false!" cried Beatrice, vehemently. "I fled from this man's house
+because I feared his violence."
+
+"That is an idle story," said Potts.
+
+"Save me!" cried Beatrice.
+
+"I don't know what to do--I suppose I've got to take you to the station,
+at any rate," said the policeman, hesitatingly.
+
+"Well," said Potts to Beatrice, "if you do go to the station-house
+you'll have to be handed back to me. You are under age."
+
+"It's false!" cried Beatrice. "I am twenty."
+
+"No, you are not more than seventeen."
+
+"Langhetti can prove that I am twenty."
+
+"How? I have documents, and a father's word will be believed before a
+paramour's."
+
+This taunt stung Beatrice to the soul.
+
+"As to your charge about my cruelty I can prove to the world that you
+lived in splendor in Brandon Hall. Every one of the servants can testify
+to this. Your morose disposition made you keep by yourself. You always
+treated your father with indifference, and finally ran away with a man
+who unfortunately had won your affections in Hong Kong."
+
+"You well know the reason why I left your roof," replied Beatrice, with
+calm and severe dignity. "Your foul aspersions upon my character are
+unworthy of notice."
+
+"And what shall I say about your aspersions on my character?" cried
+Potts, in a loud, rude voice, hoping by a sort of vulgar self-assertion
+to brow-beat Beatrice. "Do you remember the names you called me and your
+threats against me? When all this is brought out in the police court,
+they will see what kind of a daughter you have been."
+
+"You will be the last one who will dare to let it be brought into a
+police court."
+
+"And why? Those absurd charges of yours are worthless. Have you any
+proof?" he continued, with a sneer, "or has your paramour any?"
+
+"Take me away," said Beatrice to the policeman.
+
+"Wait!" exclaimed Potts; "you are going, and I will go to reclaim you.
+The law will give you back to me; for I will prove that you are under
+age, and I have never treated you with any thing except kindness. Now
+the law can do nothing since you are mine. But as you are so young and
+inexperienced I'll tell you what will happen.
+
+"The newspapers," he continued, after a pause, "will be full of your
+story. They will print what I shall prove to be true--that you had an
+intractable disposition--that you had formed a guilty attachment for a
+drum-major at Hong Kong--that you ran away with him, lived for a while
+at Holby, and then went with your paramour to London. If you had only
+married him you would have been out of my power; but you don't pretend
+to be married. You don't call yourself Langhetti, but have taken another
+name, which the sharp newspaper reporters will hint was given you by
+some other one of your numerous favorites. They will declare that you
+love every man but your own father; and you--you who played the goddess
+on the stage and sang about Truth and Religion will be known all over
+England and all over Europe too as the vilest of the vile."
+
+[Illustration: "Oh, my daughter!" cried Potts, "will you still be
+relentless?"]
+
+At this tremendous menace Beatrice's resolution was shattered to pieces.
+That this would be so she well knew. To escape from Potts was to have
+herself made infamous publicly under the sanction of the law, and then,
+by that same law to be handed back to him. At least whether it was so or
+not, she thought so. There was no help--no friend.
+
+"Go," said Potts; "leave me now and you become covered with infamy. Who
+would believe your story?"
+
+Beatrice was silent, her slender frame was rent by emotion.
+
+"O God!" she groaned--but in her deep despair she could not find
+thoughts even for prayers.
+
+"You may go, policeman," said Potts; "my daughter will come with me."
+
+"Faith and I'm glad! It's the best thing for her;" and the policeman,
+much relieved, returned to his beat.
+
+"Some of you'll have to pay for them winders," said the cabman.
+
+"All right," answered Potts, quietly.
+
+"There is your home for to-night, at any rate," said Potts, pointing to
+the house. "I don't think you have any chance left. You had better go
+in."
+
+His tone was one full of bitter taunt. Scarce conscious, with her brain
+reeling, and her limbs trembling, Beatrice entered the house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL.
+
+
+DISCOVERIES.
+
+The next morning after Beatrice's last performance Langhetti determined
+to fulfill his promise and tell her that secret which she had been so
+anxious to know. On entering into his parlor he saw a letter lying on
+the table addressed to him. It bore no postage stamp, or post-office
+mark.
+
+He opened it and read the following:
+
+"London, September 5,1849.
+
+"SIGNORE,--Cigole, the betrayer and intended assassin of your late
+father, is now in London. You can find out about him by inquiring of
+Giovanni Cavallo, 16 Red Lion Street. As a traitor to the Carbonari, you
+will know that it is your duty to punish him, even if your filial piety
+is not strong enough to avenge a father's wrongs.
+
+"CARBONARO."
+
+Langhetti read this several times. Then he called for his landlord.
+
+"Who left this letter?" he asked.
+
+"A young man."
+
+"Do you know his name?"
+
+"No."
+
+"What did he look like?"
+
+"He looked like a counting-house clerk more than any thing."
+
+"When was it left?"
+
+"About six o'clock this morning."
+
+Langhetti read it over and over. The news that it contained filled his
+mind. It was not yet ten o'clock. He would not take any breakfast, but
+went out at once, jumped into a cab, and drove off to Red Lion Street.
+
+Giovanni Cavallo's office was in a low, dingy building, with a dark,
+narrow doorway. It was one of those numerous establishments conducted
+and supported by foreigners whose particular business it is not easy
+to conjecture. The building was full of offices, but this was on the
+ground-floor.
+
+Langhetti entered, and found the interior as dingy as the exterior.
+There was a table in the middle of the room. Beyond this was a door
+which opened into a back-room.
+
+Only one person was here--a small, bright-eyed man, with thick Vandyke
+beard and sinewy though small frame. Langhetti took off his hat and
+bowed.
+
+"I wish to see Signore Cavallo," said he, in Italian.
+
+"I am Signore Cavallo," answered the other, blandly.
+
+Langhetti made a peculiar motion with his left arm. The keen eye of
+the other noticed it in an instant. He returned a gesture of a similar
+character. Langhetti and he then exchanged some more secret signs. At
+last Langhetti made one which caused the other to start, and to bow with
+deep respect.
+
+"I did not know," said he, in a low voice, "that any of the Interior
+Council ever came to London.... But come in here," and he led the way
+into the inner room, the door of which he locked very mysteriously.
+
+A long conference followed, the details of which would only be tedious.
+At the close Cavallo said, "There is some life in us yet, and what life
+we have left shall be spent in trapping that miscreant. Italy shall be
+avenged on one of her traitors, at any rate."
+
+"You will write as I told you, and let me know?"
+
+"Most faithfully."
+
+Langhetti departed, satisfied with the result of this interview. What
+surprised him most was the letter. The writer must have been one who
+had been acquainted with his past life. He was amazed to find any one
+denouncing Cigole to him, but finally concluded that it must be some old
+Carbonaro, exiled through the afflictions which had befallen that famous
+society, and cherishing in his exile the bitter resentment which only
+exiles can feel.
+
+Cavallo himself had known Cigole for years, but had no idea whatever of
+his early career. Cigole had no suspicion that Cavallo had any thing to
+do with the Carbonari. His firm were general agents, who did business
+of a miscellaneous character, now commission, now banking, and now
+shipping; and in various ways they had had dealings with this man, and
+kept up an irregular correspondence with him.
+
+This letter had excited afresh within his ardent and impetuous nature
+all the remembrances of early wrongs. Gentle though he was, and pure in
+heart, and elevated in all his aspirations, he yet was in all respects a
+true child of the South, and his passionate nature was roused to a storm
+by this prospect of just retaliation. All the lofty doctrines with which
+he might console others were of no avail here in giving him calm. He had
+never voluntarily pursued Cigole; but now, since this villain had been
+presented to him, he could not turn aside from what he considered the
+holy duty of avenging a father's wrongs.
+
+He saw that for the present every thing would have to give way to this.
+He determined at once to suspend the representation of the "Prometheus,"
+even though it was at the height of its popularity and in the full tide
+of its success. He determined to send Beatrice under his sister's care,
+and to devote himself now altogether to the pursuit of Cigole, even if
+he had to follow him to the world's end. The search after him might
+not be long after all, for Cavallo felt sanguine of speedy success, and
+assured him that the traitor was in his power, and that the Carbonari in
+London were sufficiently numerous to seize him and send him to whatever
+punishment might be deemed most fitting.
+
+With such plans and purposes Langhetti went to visit Beatrice, wondering
+how she would receive the intelligence of his new purpose.
+
+It was two o'clock in the afternoon before he reached her lodgings. On
+going up he rapped. A servant came, and on seeing him looked frightened.
+
+[Illustration: "WHAT LIFE WE HAVE LEFT SHALL BE SPENT IN TRAPPING THAT
+MISCREANT."]
+
+"Is Miss Despard in?"
+
+The servant said nothing, but ran off. Langhetti stood waiting in
+surprise; but in a short time the landlady came. She had a troubled
+look, and did not even return his salutation.
+
+"Is Miss Despard in?"
+
+"She is not here, Sir."
+
+"Not here!"
+
+"No, Sir. I'm frightened. There was a man here early this morning, too."
+
+"A man here. What for?"
+
+"Why, to ask after her."
+
+"And did he see her?"
+
+"She wasn't here."
+
+"Wasn't here! What do you mean?"
+
+"She didn't come home at all last night. I waited up for her till four."
+
+"Didn't come home!" cried Langhetti, as an awful fear came over him.
+
+"No, Sir."
+
+"Do you mean to tell me that she didn't come home at her usual hour?"
+
+"No, Sir--not at all; and as I was saying, I sat up nearly all night."
+
+"Heavens!" cried Langhetti, in bewilderment. "What is the meaning of
+this? But take me to her room. Let me see with my own eyes."
+
+The landlady led the way up, and Langhetti followed anxiously. The room
+were empty. Every thing remained just as she had left it. Her music was
+lying loosely around. The landlady said that she had touched nothing.
+
+Langhetti asked about the man who had called in the morning. The
+landlady could tell nothing about him, except that he was a gentleman
+with dark hair, and very stern eyes that terrified her. He seemed to be
+very angry or very terrible in some way about Beatrice.
+
+Who could this be? thought Langhetti. The landlady did not know his
+name. Some one was certainly interesting herself very singularly about
+Cigole, and some one else, or else the same person, was very much
+interested about Beatrice. For a moment he thought it might be Despard.
+This, however, did not seem probable, as Despard would have written him
+if he were coming to town.
+
+Deeply perplexed, and almost in despair, Langhetti left the house and
+drove home, thinking on the way what ought to be done. He thought he
+would wait till evening, and perhaps she would appear. He did thus
+wait, and in a fever of excitement and suspense, but on going to the
+lodging-house again there was nothing more known about her.
+
+Leaving this he drove to the police-office. It seemed to him now that
+she must have been foully dealt with in some way. He could think of no
+one but Potts; yet how Potts could manage it was a mystery. That mystery
+he himself could not hope to unravel. The police might. With that
+confidence in the police which is common to all Continentals he went
+and made known his troubles. The officials at once promised to make
+inquiries, and told him to call on the following evening.
+
+The next evening he went there. The policeman was present who had been
+at the place when Potts met Beatrice. He told the whole story--the
+horses running furiously, the screams from the cab, and the appeal of
+Beatrice for help, together with her final acquiescence in the will of
+her father.
+
+Langhetti was overwhelmed. The officials evidently believed that Potts
+was an injured father, and showed some coldness to Langhetti.
+
+"He is her father; what better could she do?" asked one.
+
+"Any thing would be better," said Langhetti, mournfully. "He is a
+villain so remorseless that she had to fly. Some friends received her.
+She went to get her own living since she is of age. Can nothing be done
+to rescue her?"
+
+"Well, she might begin a lawsuit; if she really is of age he can not
+hold her. But she had much better stay with him."
+
+Such were the opinions of the officials. They courteously granted
+permission to Langhetti to take the policeman to the house.
+
+On knocking an old woman came to the door. In answer to his inquiries
+she stated that a gentleman had been living there three weeks, but that
+on the arrival of his daughter he had gone home.
+
+"When did he leave?"
+
+"Yesterday morning."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI
+
+THEY MEET AGAIN.
+
+At four o'clock on the morning of Beatrice's capture Brandon was roused
+by a rap at his bedroom door. He rose at once, and slipping on his
+dressing-gown, opened it. A man entered.
+
+"Well?" said Brandon.
+
+"Something has happened."
+
+"What?"
+
+"She didn't get home last night. The landlady is sitting up for her, and
+is terribly frightened."
+
+"Did you make any inquiries?"
+
+"No, Sir; I came straight here in obedience to your directions."
+
+"Is that all you know?"
+
+"All."
+
+"Very well," said Brandon, calmly, "you may go."
+
+The man retired. Brandon sat down and buried his head in his hands. Such
+news as this was sufficient to overwhelm any one. The man knew nothing
+more than this, that she had not returned home and that the landlady was
+frightened. In his opinion only one of two things could have happened:
+either Langhetti had taken her somewhere, or she had been abducted.
+
+A thousand fancies followed one another in quick succession. It was too
+early as yet to go forth to make inquiries; and he therefore was forced
+to sit still and form conjectures as to what ought to be done in case
+his conjecture might be true. Sitting there, he took a rapid survey of
+all the possibilities of the occasion, and laid his plans accordingly.
+
+Brandon had feared some calamity, and with this fear had arranged
+to have some one in the house who might give him information. The
+information which he most dreaded had come; it had come, too, in the
+midst of a time of triumph, when she had become one of the supreme
+singers of the age, and had gained all that her warmest admirer might
+desire for her.
+
+If she had not been foully dealt with she must have gone with Langhetti.
+But if so--where--and why? What possible reason might Langhetti have for
+taking her away? This conjecture was impossible.
+
+Yet if this was impossible, and if she had not gone with Langhetti, with
+whom could she have gone? If not a friend, then it must have been with
+an enemy. But with what enemy? There was only one.
+
+He thought of Potts. He knew that this wretch was capable of any
+villainy, and would not hesitate at any thing to regain possession of
+the one who had fled from him. Why he should wish to take the trouble
+to regain possession of her, except out of pure villainy, he could not
+imagine.
+
+With such thoughts as these the time passed heavily. Six o'clock at last
+came, and he set out for the purpose of making inquiries. He went first
+to the theatre. Here, after some trouble, he found those who had the
+place in charge, and, by questioning them, he learned that Beatrice had
+left by herself in a cab for her home, and that Langhetti had remained
+some time later. He then went to Beatrice's lodgings to question the
+landlady. From there he went to Langhetti's lodgings, and found that
+Langhetti had come home about one o'clock and was not yet up.
+
+Beatrice, therefore, had left by herself; and had not gone any where
+with Langhetti. She had not returned home. It seemed to him most
+probable that either voluntarily or involuntarily she had come under
+the control of Potts. What to do under the circumstances was now the
+question.
+
+One course seemed to him the most direct and certain; namely, to go
+up to Brandon at once and make inquiries there. From the letters which
+Philips had sent he had an idea of the doings of Potts. Other sources
+of information had also been secured. It was not his business to do any
+thing more than to see that Beatrice should fall into no harm.
+
+By ten o'clock he had acted upon this idea, and was at the railway
+station to take the express train. He reached Brandon village about
+dusk. He went to the inn in his usual disguise as Mr. Smithers, and sent
+up to the Hall for Mr. Potts.
+
+Potts was not there. He then sent for Philips. After some delay Philips
+came. His usual timidity was now if possible still more marked, and he
+was at first too embarrassed to speak.
+
+"Where is Potts?" asked Brandon, abruptly.
+
+"In London, Sir."
+
+"He has been there about three weeks, hasn't he?"
+
+"Yes, Sir."
+
+"So you wrote me. You thought when he went that he was going to hunt up
+his daughter."
+
+"So I conjectured."
+
+"And he hasn't got back yet?"
+
+"Not yet."
+
+"Has he written any word?"
+
+"None that I know of."
+
+"Did you hear any of them say why he went to get her?"
+
+"Not particularly; but I guessed from what they said that he was afraid
+of having her at large."
+
+"Afraid? Why?"
+
+"Because she knew some secret of theirs."
+
+"Secret! What secret?" asked Brandon.
+
+"You know, Sir, I suppose," said Philips, meekly.
+
+Brandon had carried Asgeelo with him, as he was often in the habit of
+doing on his journeys. After his interview with Philips he stood outside
+on the veranda of the village inn for some time, and then went around
+through the village, stopping at a number of houses. Whatever it was
+that he was engaged in, it occupied him for several hours, and he did
+not get back to the inn till midnight.
+
+On the following morning he sent up to the Hall, but Potts had not
+yet returned. Philips came to tell him that he had just received a
+telegraphic dispatch informing him that Potts would be back that day
+about one o'clock. This intelligence at last seemed to promise something
+definite.
+
+Brandon found enough to occupy him during the morning among the people
+of the neighborhood. He seemed to know every body, and had something
+to say to every one. Yet no one looked at him or spoke to him unless
+he took the initiative. Last of all, he went to the tailor's, where he
+spent an hour.
+
+Asgeelo had been left at the inn, and sat there upon a bench outside,
+apparently idle and aimless. At one o'clock Brandon returned and walked
+up and down the veranda.
+
+In about half an hour his attention was attracted by the sound of
+wheels. It was Potts's barouche, which came rapidly up the road. In it
+was Potts and a young lady.
+
+Brandon stood outside of the veranda, on the steps, in such a position
+as to be most conspicuous, and waited there till the carriage should
+reach the place. Did his heart beat faster as he recognized that form,
+as he marked the settled despair which had gathered over that young
+face--a face that had the fixed and unalterable wretchedness which marks
+the ideal face of the Mater Dolorosa?
+
+Brandon stood in such a way that Potts could not help seeing him. He
+waved his arm, and Potts stopped the carriage at once.
+
+Potts was seated on the front seat, and Beatrice on the back one.
+Brandon walked up to the carriage and touched his hat.
+
+"Mr. Smithers!" cried Potts, with his usual volubility. "Dear me, Sir.
+This is really a most unexpected pleasure, Sir."
+
+While Potts spoke Brandon looked steadily at Beatrice, who cast upon
+him a look of wonder. She then sank back in her seat; but her eyes were
+still fastened on his as though fascinated. Then, beneath the marble
+whiteness of her face a faint tinge appeared, a warm flush, that was the
+sign of hope rising from despair. In her eyes there gleamed the flash of
+recognition; for in that glance each had made known all its soul to the
+other. In her mind there was no perplexing question as to how or why he
+came here, or wherefore he wore that disguise; the one thought that she
+had was the consciousness that He was here--here before her.
+
+All this took place in an instant, and Potts, who was talking, did not
+notice the hurried glance; or if he did, saw in it nothing but a casual
+look cast by one stranger upon another.
+
+"I arrived here yesterday," said Brandon. "I wished to see you about a
+matter of very little importance perhaps to you, but it is one which is
+of interest to me. But I am detaining you. By-the-way, I am somewhat in
+a hurry, and if this lady will excuse me I will drive up with you to the
+Hall, so as to lose no time."
+
+"Delighted, Sir, delighted!" cried Potts. "Allow me, Mr. Smithers, to
+introduce you to my daughter."
+
+Brandon held out his hand. Beatrice held out hers. It was cold as ice,
+but the fierce thrill that shot through her frame at the touch of his
+feverish hand brought with it such an ecstasy that Beatrice thought it
+was worth while to have undergone the horror of the past twenty-four
+hours for the joy of this one moment.
+
+Brandon stepped into the carriage and seated himself by her side. Potts
+sat opposite. He touched her. He could hear her breathing. How many
+months had passed since they sat so near together! What sorrows had they
+not endured! Now they were side by side, and for a moment they forgot
+that their bitterest enemy sat before them.
+
+There, before them, was the man who was not only a deadly enemy to each,
+but who made it impossible for them to be more to one another than they
+now were. Yet for a time they forgot this in the joy of the ecstatic
+meeting. At the gate Potts got out and excused himself to Brandon,
+saying that he would be up directly.
+
+"Entertain this gentleman till I come," said he to Beatrice, "for he is
+a great friend of mine."
+
+Beatrice said nothing, for the simple reason that she could not speak.
+
+They drove on. Oh, joy! that baleful presence was for a moment removed.
+The driver saw nothing as he drove under the overarching elms--the elms
+under which Brandon had sported in his boyhood. He saw not the long,
+fervid glance that they cast at one another, in which each seemed to
+absorb all the being of the other; he saw not the close clasped hands
+with which they clung to one another now as though they would thus cling
+to each other forever and prevent separation. He saw not the swift,
+wild movement of Brandon when for one instant he flung his arm around
+Beatrice and pressed her to his heart. He heard not the beating of that
+strong heart; he heard not the low sigh of rapture with which for but
+one instant the head of Beatrice sank upon her lover's breast. It was
+but for an instant. Then she sat upright again, and their hands sought
+each other, thus clinging, thus speaking by a voice which was fully
+intelligible to each, which told how each felt in the presence of the
+other love unutterable, rapture beyond expression.
+
+The alighted from the carriage. Beatrice led the way into the
+drawing-room. No one was there. Brandon went into a recess of one of the
+windows which commanded a view of the Park.
+
+"What a beautiful view!" said he, in a conventional voice.
+
+She came up and stood beside him.
+
+"Oh, my darling! Oh, my darling!" he cried, over and over again; and
+flinging his arms around her he covered her face with burning kisses.
+Her whole being seemed in that supreme moment to be absorbed in his. All
+consciousness of any other thing than this unspeakable joy was lost
+to her. Before all others she was lofty, high-souled, serene,
+self-possessed--with him she was nothing, she lost herself in him.
+
+"Do not fear, my soul's darling," said he; "no harm shall come. My power
+is every where--even in this house. All in the village are mine. When my
+blow falls you shall be saved."
+
+She shuddered.
+
+"You will leave me here?"
+
+"Heavens! I must," he groaned; "we are the sport of circumstances. Oh,
+my darling!" he continued, "you know my story, and my vengeance."
+
+"I know it all," she whispered. "I would wish to die if I could die by
+your hand."
+
+"I will save you. Oh, love--oh, soul of mine--my arms are around you!
+You are watched--but watched by me."
+
+"You do not know," she sighed. "Alas! your father's voice must be
+obeyed, and your vengeance must be taken."
+
+"Fear not," said he; "I will guard you."
+
+She answered nothing. Could she confide in his assurance? She could not.
+She thought with horror of the life before her. What could Brandon do?
+She could not imagine.
+
+They stood thus in silence for a long time. Each felt that this was
+their last meeting, and each threw all life and all thought into the
+rapture of this long and ecstatic embrace. After this the impassable
+gulf must reopen. She was of the blood of the accursed. They must
+separate forever.
+
+He kissed her. He pressed her a thousand times to his heart. His burning
+kisses forced a new and feverish life into her, which roused all her
+nature. Never before had he dared so to fling open all his soul to her;
+never before had he so clasped her to his heart; but now this moment was
+a break in the agony of a long separation--a short interval which must
+soon end and give way to the misery which had preceded it--and so he
+yielded to the rapture of the hour, and defied the future.
+
+The moments extended themselves. They were left thus for a longer time
+than they hoped. Potts did not come. They were still clinging to
+one another. She had flung her arms around him in the anguish of her
+unspeakable love, he had clasped her to his wildly-throbbing heart, and
+he was straining her there recklessly and despairingly, when suddenly a
+harsh voice burst upon their ears.
+
+"The devil!"
+
+Beatrice did not hear it. Brandon did, and turned his face. Potts stood
+before them.
+
+"Mr. Potts!" said he, as he still held Beatrice close to his heart,
+"this poor young lady is in wretched health. She nearly fainted. I had
+to almost carry her to the window. Will you be good enough to open it,
+so as to give her some air? Is she subject to these faints? Poor
+child!" he said; "the air of this place ought surely to do you good. I
+sympathize with you most deeply, Mr. Potts."
+
+"She's sickly--that's a fact," said Potts. "I'm very sorry that you have
+had so much trouble--I hope you'll excuse me. I only thought that she'd
+entertain you, for she's very clever. Has all the accomplishments--"
+
+"Perhaps you'd better call some one to take care of her," interrupted
+Brandon.
+
+"Oh, I'll fetch some one. I'm sorry it happened so. I hope you won't
+blame me, Sir," said Potts, humbly, and he hurried out of the room.
+
+Beatrice had not moved. She heard Brandon speak to some one, and at
+first gave herself up for lost, but in an instant she understood the
+full meaning of his words. To his admirable presence of mind she added
+her own. She did not move, but allowed her head to rest where it was,
+feeling a delicious joy in the thought that Potts was looking on and was
+utterly deceived. When he left to call a servant she raised her head and
+gave Brandon a last look expressive of her deathless, her unutterable
+love. Again and again he pressed her to his heart. Then the noise of
+servants coming in roused him. He gently placed her on a sofa, and
+supported her with a grave and solemn face.
+
+"Here, Mrs. Compton. Take charge of her," said Potts. "She's been trying
+to faint."
+
+Mrs. Compton came up, and kneeling down kissed Beatrice's hands. She
+said nothing.
+
+"Oughtn't she to have a doctor?" said Brandon.
+
+"Oh no--she'll get over it. Take her to her room, Mrs. Compton."
+
+"Can the poor child walk?" asked Brandon.
+
+Beatrice rose. Mrs. Compton asked her to take her arm. She did so, and
+leaning heavily upon it, walked away.
+
+[Illustration: "THE DEVIL!" ... POTTS STOOD BEFORE THEM.]
+
+"She seems very delicate," said Brandon. "I did not know that you had a
+daughter."
+
+Potts sighed.
+
+"I have," said he, "to my sorrow."
+
+"To your sorrow!" said Brandon, with exquisitely simulated sympathy.
+
+"Yes," replied the other. "I wouldn't tell it to every one--but you, Mr.
+Smithers, are different from most people. You see I have led a roving
+life. I had to leave her out in China for many years with a female
+guardian. I suppose she was not very well taken care of. At any rate,
+she got acquainted out there with a strolling Italian vagabond, a
+drum-major in one of the regiments, named Langhetti, and this villain
+gained her affections by his hellish arts. He knew that I was rich,
+and, like an unprincipled adventurer, tried to get her, hoping to get
+a fortune. I did not know any thing about this till after her arrival
+home. I sent for her some time ago and she came. From the first she was
+very sulky. She did not treat me like a daughter at all. On one occasion
+she actually abused me and called me names to my face. She called me a
+Thug! What do you think of that, Mr. Smithers?"
+
+The other said nothing, but there was in his face a horror which Potts
+considered as directed toward his unnatural offspring.
+
+"She was discontented here, though I let her have every thing. I found
+out in the end all about it. At last she actually ran away. She joined
+this infamous Langhetti, whom she had discovered in some way or other.
+They lived together for some time, and then went to London, where she
+got a situation as an actress. You can imagine by that," said Potts,
+with sanctimonious horror, "how low she had fallen.
+
+"Well, I didn't know what to do. I was afraid to make a public demand
+for her through the law, for then it would all get into the papers; it
+would be an awful disgrace, and the whole county would know it. So I
+waited, and a few weeks ago I went to London. A chance occurred at last
+which threw her in my way. I pointed out to her the awful nature of the
+life she was leading, and offered to forgive her all if she would only
+come back. The poor girl consented, and here she is. But I'm very
+much afraid," said Potts in conclusion, with a deep sigh, "that her
+constitution is broken up. She's very feeble."
+
+Brandon said nothing.
+
+"Excuse me for troubling you with my domestic affairs; but I thought I
+ought to explain, for you have had such trouble with her yourself."
+
+"Oh, don't mention it. I quite pitied the poor child, I assure you; and
+I sincerely hope that the seclusion of this place, combined with the
+pure sea-air, may restore her spirits and invigorate her in mind as well
+as in body. And now, Mr. Potts, I will mention the little matter that
+brought me here. I have had business in Cornwall, and was on my way home
+when I received a letter summoning me to America. I may have to go to
+California. I have a very honest servant, whom I have quite a strong
+regard for, and I am anxious to put him in some good country house till
+I get back. I'm afraid to trust him in London, and I can't take him with
+me. He is a Hindu, but speaks English and can do almost any thing. I
+at once remembered you, especially as you were close by me, and thought
+that In your large establishment you might find a place for him. How is
+it?"
+
+"My dear Sir, I shall be proud and happy. I should like, above all
+things, to have a man here who is recommended by one like you. The fact
+is, my servants are all miserable, and a good one can not often be had.
+I shall consider it a favor if I can get him."
+
+"Well, that is all arranged--I have a regard for him, as I said before,
+and want to have him in a pleasant situation. His name is Asgeelo, but
+we are in the habit of calling him Cato--"
+
+"Cato! a very good name. Where is he now?"
+
+"At the hotel. I will send him to you at once," said Brandon, rising.
+
+"The sooner the better," returned Potts.
+
+"By-the-way, my junior speaks very encouragingly about the prospects of
+the Brandon Bank--"
+
+"Does he?" cried Potts, gleefully. "Well, I do believe we're going ahead
+of every thing."
+
+"That's right. Boldness is the true way to success."
+
+"Oh, never fear. We are bold enough."
+
+"Good. But I am hurried, and I must go. I will send Asgeelo up, and give
+him a letter."
+
+With these words Brandon bowed an adieu and departed. Before evening
+Asgeelo was installed as one of the servants.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII
+
+
+LANGHETTI'S ATTEMPT.
+
+Two days after Brandon's visit to Potts, Langhetti reached the village.
+
+A searching examination in London had led him to believe that Beatrice
+might now be sought for at Brandon Hall. The police could do nothing
+for him. He had no right to her. If she was of age, she was her
+own mistress, and must make application herself for her safety and
+deliverance; if she was under age, then she must show that she was
+treated with cruelty. None of these things could be done, and Langhetti
+despaired of accomplishing any thing.
+
+The idea of her being once more in the power of a man like Potts
+was frightful to him. This idea filled his mind continually, to the
+exclusion of all other thoughts. His opera was forgotten. One great
+horror stood before him, and all else became of no account. The only
+thing for him to do was to try to save her. He could find no way, and
+therefore determined to go and see Potts himself.
+
+It was a desperate undertaking. From Beatrice's descriptions he had an
+idea of the life from which she had fled, and other things had given him
+a true idea of the character of Potts. He knew that there was scarcely
+any hope before him. Yet he went, to satisfy himself by making a last
+effort.
+
+He was hardly the man to deal with one like Potts. Sensitive,
+high-toned, passionate, impetuous in his feelings, he could not command
+that calmness which was the first essential in such an interview.
+Besides, he was broken down by anxiety and want of sleep. His sorrow
+for Beatrice had disturbed all his thoughts. Food and sleep were alike
+abominable to him. His fine-strung nerves and delicate organization, in
+which every feeling had been rendered more acute by his mode of life,
+were of that kind which could feel intensely wherever the affections
+were concerned. His material frame was too weak for the presence of such
+an ardent soul. Whenever any emotion of unusual power appeared he sank
+rapidly.
+
+So now, feverish, emaciated, excited to an intense degree, he appeared
+in Brandon to confront a cool, unemotional villain, who scarcely ever
+lost his presence of mind. Such a contest could scarcely be an equal
+one. What could he bring forward which could in any way affect such a
+man? He had some ideas in his own mind which he imagined might be of
+service, and trusted more to impulse than any thing else. He went up
+early in the morning to Brandon Hall.
+
+Potts was at home, and did not keep Langhetti long waiting. There was
+a vast contrast between these two men--the one coarse, fat, vulgar, and
+strong; the other refined, slender, spiritual, and delicate, with his
+large eyes burning in their deep sockets, and a strange mystery in his
+face.
+
+"I am Paolo Langhetti," said he, abruptly--"the manager of the Covent
+Garden Theatre."
+
+"You are, are you?" answered Potts, rudely; "then the sooner you get out
+of this the better. The devil himself couldn't be more impudent. I have
+just saved my daughter from your clutches, and I'm going to pay you off,
+too, my fine fellow, before long."
+
+"Your daughter!" said Langhetti. "What she is, and who she is, you very
+well know. If the dead could speak they would tell a different story."
+
+"What the devil do you mean," cried Potts, "by the dead? At any rate you
+are a fool; for very naturally the dead can't speak; but what concern
+that has with my daughter I don't know. Mind, you are playing a
+dangerous game in trying to bully me."
+
+Potts spoke fiercely and menacingly. Langhetti's impetuous goal kindled
+to a new fervor at this insulting language. He stretched out his long,
+thin hand toward Potts, and said:
+
+"I hold your life and fortune in my hand. Give up that girl whom you
+call your daughter."
+
+Potts stood for a moment staring.
+
+"The devil you do!" he cried, at last. "Come, I call that good,
+rich, racy! Will your sublime Excellency have the kindness to explain
+yourself? If my life is in your hand it's in a devilish lean and weak
+one. It strikes me you've got some kink in your brain--some notion or
+other. Out with it, and let us see what you're driving at!"
+
+"Do you know a man named Cigole?" said Langhetti.
+
+"Cigole!" replied Potts, after a pause, in which he had stared hard at
+Langhetti; "well, what if I do? Perhaps I do, and perhaps I don't."
+
+"He is in my power," said Langhetti, vehemently.
+
+"Much good may he do you then, for I'm sure when he was in my power he
+never did any good to me."
+
+"He will do good in this case, at any rate," said Langhetti, with an
+effort at calmness. "He was connected with you in a deed which you must
+remember, and can tell to the world what he knows."
+
+"Well, what if he does?" said Potts.
+
+"He will tell," cried Langhetti, excitedly, "the true story of the
+Despard murder."
+
+"Ah!" said Potts, "now the murder's out. That's what I thought.
+Don't you suppose I saw through you when you first began to speak so
+mysteriously? I knew that you had learned some wonderful story, and that
+you were going to trot it out at the right time. But if you think you're
+going to bully me you'll find it hard work.
+
+"Cigole is in my power," said Langhetti, fiercely.
+
+"And so you think I am, too?" sneered Potts.
+
+"Partly so."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because he was an accomplice of yours in the Despard murder."
+
+"So he says, no doubt; but who'll believe him?"
+
+"He is going to turn Queen's evidence!" said Langhetti, solemnly.
+
+"Queen's evidence!" returned Potts, contemptuously, "and what's his
+evidence worth--the evidence of a man like that against a gentleman of
+unblemished character?"
+
+"He will be able to show what the character of that gentleman is,"
+rejoined Langhetti.
+
+"Who will believe him?"
+
+"No one can help it."
+
+"You believe him, no doubt. You and he are both Italians--both dear
+friends--and both enemies of mine; but suppose I prove to the world
+conclusively that Cigole is such a scoundrel that his testimony is
+worthless?"
+
+"You can't," cried Langhetti, furiously.
+
+Potts cast a look of contempt at him--
+
+"Can't I!" He resumed: "How very simple, how confiding you must be,
+my dear Langhetti! Let me explain my meaning. You got up a wild charge
+against a gentleman of character and position about a murder. In the
+first place, you seem to forget that the real murderer has long since
+been punished. That miserable devil of a Malay was very properly
+convicted at Manilla, and hanged there. It was twenty years ago. What
+English court would consider the case again after a calm and impartial
+Spanish court has settled it finally, and punished the criminal? They
+did so at the time when the case was fresh, and I came forth honored
+and triumphant. You now bring forward a man who, you hint, will make
+statements against me. Suppose he does? What then? Why, I will show what
+this man is. And you, my dear Langhetti, will be the first one whom I
+will bring up against him. I will bring you up under oath, and make you
+tell how this Cigole--this man who testifies against me--once made a
+certain testimony in Sicily against a certain Langhetti senior, by which
+that certain Langhetti senior was betrayed to the Government, and was
+saved only by the folly of two Englishmen, one of whom was this same
+Despard. I will show that this Langhetti senior was your father,
+and that the son, instead of avenging, or at any rate resenting,
+his father's wrong, is now a bosom friend of his father's intended
+murderer--that he has urged him on against me. I will show, my dear
+Langhetti, how you have led a roving life, and, when a drum-major at
+Hong Kong, won the affections of my daughter; how you followed her here,
+and seduced her away from a kind father; how at infinite risk I regained
+her; how you came to me with audacious threats; and how only the dread
+of further scandal, and my own anxious love for my daughter, prevented
+me from handing you over to the authorities. I will prove you to be a
+scoundrel of the vilest description, and, after such proof as this, what
+do you think would be the verdict of an English jury, or of any judge in
+any land; and what do you think would be your own fate? Answer me that."
+
+Potts spoke with savage vehemence. The frightful truth flashed at once
+across Langhetti's mind that Potts had it in his power here to show
+all this to the world. He was overwhelmed. He had never conceived the
+possibility of this. Potts watched him silently, with a sneer on his
+face.
+
+"Don't you think that you had better go and comfort yourself with your
+dear friend Cigole, your father's intended murderer?" said he at length.
+"Cigole told me all about this long ago. He told me many things about
+his life which would be slightly damaging to his character as a witness,
+but I don't mind telling you that the worst thing against him in English
+eyes is his betrayal of your father. But this seems to have been a very
+slight matter to you. It's odd too; I've always supposed that Italians
+understood what vengeance means."
+
+Langhetti's face bore an expression of agony which he could not conceal.
+Every word of Potts stung him to the soul. He stood for some time in
+silence. At last, without a word, he walked out of the room.
+
+His brain reeled. He staggered rather than walked. Potts looked after
+him with a smile of triumph. He left the Hall and returned to the
+village.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII.
+
+
+THE STRANGER.
+
+A few weeks after Langhetti's visit Potts had a new visitor at the bank.
+The stranger entered the bank parlor noiselessly, and stood quietly
+waiting for Potts to be disengaged. That worthy was making some entries
+in a small memorandum-book. Turning his head, he saw the newcomer. Potts
+looked surprised, and the stranger said, in a peculiar voice, somewhat
+gruff and hesitating,
+
+"Mr. Potts?"
+
+"Yes," said Potts, looking hard at his visitor.
+
+He was a man of singular aspect. His hair was long, parted in the
+middle, and straight. He wore dark colored spectacles. A thick, black
+beard ran under his chin. His linen was not over-clean, and he wore a
+long surtout coat.
+
+"I belong to the firm of Bigelow, Higginson, & Co., Solicitors,
+London.--I am the Co."
+
+"Well!"
+
+"The business about which I have come is one of some importance. Are we
+secure from interruption?"
+
+"Yes," said Potts, "as much as I care about being. I don't know any
+thing in particular that I care about locking the doors for."
+
+"Well, you know best," said the stranger. "The business upon which I
+have come concerns you somewhat, but your son principally."
+
+Potts started, and looked with eager inquiry at the stranger.
+
+"It is such a serious case," said the latter, "that my seniors thought,
+before taking any steps in the matter, it would be best to consult you
+privately."
+
+"Well," returned Potts, with a frown, "what is this wonderful case?"
+
+"Forgery," said the stranger.
+
+Potts started to his feet with a ghastly face, and stood speechless for
+some time.
+
+"Do you know who you're talking to?" said he, at last.
+
+"John Potts, of Brandon Hall, I presume," said the stranger, coolly. "My
+business concerns him somewhat, but his son still more."
+
+"What the devil do you mean?" growled Potts, in a savage tone.
+
+"Forgery," said the stranger. "It is an English word, I believe.
+Forgery, in which your son was chief agent. Have I made myself
+understood?"
+
+Potts looked at him again, and then slowly went to the door, locked it,
+and put the key in his pocket.
+
+"That's right," said the stranger, quietly.
+
+"You appear to take things easy," rejoined Potts, angrily; "but let me
+tell you, if you come to bully me you've got into the wrong shop."
+
+"You appear somewhat heated. You must be calm, or else we can not get to
+business; and in that case I shall have to leave."
+
+"I don't see how that would be any affliction," said Potts, with a
+sneer.
+
+"That's because you don't understand my position, or the state of the
+present business. For if I leave it will be the signal for a number of
+interested parties to make a combined attack on you."
+
+"An attack?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Who is there?" said Potts, defiantly.
+
+"Giovanni Cavallo, for one; my seniors, Messrs. Bigelow & Higginson, and
+several others.
+
+"Never heard of any of them before."
+
+"Perhaps not. But if you write to Smithers & Co. they will tell you
+that Bigelow, Higginson, & Co. are their solicitors, and do their
+confidential business."
+
+"Smithers & Co.?" said Potts, aghast.
+
+"Yes. It would not be for your interest for Bigelow, Higginson, & Co. to
+show Smithers & Co. the proofs which they have against you, would it?"
+
+Potts was silent. An expression of consternation came over his face. He
+plunged his hands deep in his pockets and bowed his head frowningly.
+
+"It is all bosh," said he, at last, raising his head. "Let them show and
+be d---d. What have they got to show?"
+
+"I will answer your question regularly," said the stranger, "in
+accordance with my instructions"--and, drawing a pocket-book from his
+pocket, he began to read from some memoranda written there.
+
+"1st. The notes to which the name of Ralph Brandon is attached, 150 in
+number, amounting to L93,500."
+
+"Pooh!" said Potts.
+
+"These forgeries were known to several besides your son and yourself,
+and one of these men will testify against you. Others who know Brandon's
+signature swear that this lacks an important point of distinction common
+to all the Brandon signatures handed down from father to son. You were
+foolish to leave these notes afloat. They have all been bought up on a
+speculation by those who wished to make the Brandon property a little
+dearer."
+
+"I don't think they'll make a fortune out of the speculation," said
+Potts, who was stifling with rage. "D--n them! who are they?"
+
+"Well, there are several witnesses who are men of such character that if
+my seniors sent them to Smithers & Co. Smithers & Co. would believe that
+you were guilty. In a court of law you would have no better chance. One
+of these witnesses says he can prove that your true name is Briggs."
+
+At this Potts bounded from his chair and stepped forward with a terrific
+oath.
+
+"You see, your son's neck is in very considerable danger."
+
+"Yours is in greater," said Potts, with menacing eyes.
+
+"Not at all. Even supposing that you were absurd enough to offer
+violence to an humble subordinate like me, it would not interfere with
+the policy of Messrs. Bigelow, Higginson, & Co., who are determined to
+make money out of this transaction. So you see it's absurd to talk of
+violence."
+
+The stranger took no further notice of Potts, but looked again at
+his memoranda; while the latter, whose face was now terrific from the
+furious passions which it exhibited, stood like a wild beast in a cage,
+"willing to wound, but yet afraid to strike."
+
+"The next case," said the stranger, "is the Thornton forgery."
+
+"Thornton!" exclaimed Potts, with greater agitation.
+
+"Yes," said the stranger. "In connection with the Despard murder there
+were two sets of forgeries; one being the Thornton correspondence, and
+the other your correspondence with the Bank of Good Hope."
+
+"Heavens! what's all this?" cried Potts. "Where have you been unearthing
+this rubbish?"
+
+"First," said the stranger, without noticing Potts's exclamation, "there
+are the letters to Thornton, Senior, twenty years ago, in which an
+attempt was made to obtain Colonel Despard's money for yourself. One
+Clark, an accomplice of yours, presented the letter. The forgery was
+at once detected. Clark might have escaped, but he made an effort at
+burglary, was caught, and condemned to transportation. He had been
+already out once before, and this time received a new brand in addition
+to the old ones."
+
+Potts did not say a word, but sat stupefied.
+
+"Thornton, Junior, is connected with us, and his testimony is valuable,
+as he was the one who detected the forgery. He also was the one who went
+to the Cape of Good Hope, where he had the pleasure of meeting with you.
+This brings me to the third case," continued the stranger.
+
+"Letters were sent to the Cape of Good Hope, ordering money to be paid
+to John Potts. Thornton, Senior, fearing from the first attempt that
+a similar one would be made at the Cape, where the deceased had funds,
+sent his son there. Young Thornton reached the place just before you
+did, and would have arrested you, but the proof was not sufficient."
+
+"Aha!" cried Potts, grasping at this--"not sufficient proof! I should
+think not." His voice was husky and his manner nervous.
+
+"I said 'was not'--but Messrs. Bigelow, Higginson, & Co. have informed
+me that there are parties now in communication with them who can prove
+how, when, where, and by whom the forgeries were executed."
+
+"It's a d----d infernal lie!" roared Potts, in a fresh burst of anger.
+
+"I only repeat what they state. The man has already written out a
+statement in full, and is only waiting for my return to sign it before
+a magistrate. This will be a death-warrant for your son; for Messrs.
+Bigelow, Higginson, & Co. will have him arrested at once. You are aware
+that he has no chance of escape. The amount is too enormous, and the
+proof is too strong."
+
+"Proof!" cried Potts, desperately; "who would believe any thing against
+a man like me, John Potts--a man of the county?"
+
+"English law is no respecter of persons," said the stranger. "Rank goes
+for nothing. But if it did make class distinctions, the witnesses about
+these documents are of great influence. There is Thornton of Holby,
+and Colonel Henry Despard at the Cape of Good Hope, with whom Messrs.
+Bigelow, Higginson, & Co. have had correspondence. There are also
+others."
+
+"It's all a lie!" exclaimed Potts, in a voice which was a little
+tremulous. "Who is this fool who has been making out papers?"
+
+"His name is Philips; true name Lawton. He tells a very extraordinary
+story; very extraordinary indeed."
+
+The stranger's peculiar voice was now intensified in its odd, harsh
+intonations. The effect on Potts was overwhelming. For a moment he was
+unable to speak.
+
+"Philips!" he gasped, at length.
+
+"Yes. You sent him on business to Smithers & Co. He has not yet
+returned. He does not intend to, for he was found out by Messrs.
+Bigelow, Higginson, & Co., and you know how timid he is. They have
+succeeded in extracting the truth from him. As I am in a hurry, and you,
+too, must be busy," continued the stranger, with unchanged accents, "I
+will now come to the point. These forged papers involve an amount to the
+extent of--Brandon forgeries, L93,500; Thornton papers, L5000; Bank of
+Good Hope, L4000; being in all L102,500. Messrs. Bigelow, Higginson, &
+Co. have instructed me to say that they will sell these papers to you
+at their face without charging interest. They will hand them over to you
+and you can destroy them, in which case, of course, the charge must be
+dropped."
+
+"Philips!" cried Potts. "I'll have that devil's blood!"
+
+"That would be murder," said the stranger, with a peculiar emphasis.
+
+His tone stung Potts to the quick.
+
+"You appear to take me for a born fool," he cried, striding up and down.
+
+"Not at all. I am only an agent carrying out the instructions of
+others."
+
+Potts suddenly stopped in his walk.
+
+"Have you all those papers about you?" he hissed.
+
+"All."
+
+Potts looked all around. The door was locked. They were alone. The
+stranger easily read his thought.
+
+"No use," said he, calmly. "Messrs. Bigelow, Higginson, & Co. would
+miss me if any thing happened. Besides, I may as well tell you that I am
+armed."
+
+The stranger rose up and faced Potts, while, from behind his dark
+spectacles, his eyes seemed to glow like fire. Potts retreated with a
+curse.
+
+"Messrs. Bigelow, Higginson, & Co. instructed me to say that if I am not
+back with the money by to-morrow night, they will at once begin action,
+and have your son arrested. They will also inform Smithers & Co., to
+whom they say you are indebted for over L600,000. So that Smithers & Co.
+will at once come down upon you for payment."
+
+"Do Smithers & Co. know any thing about this?" asked Potts, in a voice
+of intense anxiety.
+
+"They do business with you the same as ever, do they not?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"How do you suppose they can know it?"
+
+"They would never believe it"
+
+"They would believe any statement made by Messrs. Bigelow, Higginson,
+& Co. My seniors have been on your track for a long time, and have come
+into connection with various parties. One man who is an Italian they
+consider important. They authorize me to state to you that this man can
+also prove the forgeries."
+
+"Who?" grasped Potts.
+
+"His name is Cigole."
+
+"Cigole!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"D--- him!"
+
+"You may damn him, but that won't silence him," remarked the other,
+mildly.
+
+"Well, what are you going to do?" growled Potts.
+
+"Present you the offer of Messrs. Bigelow, Higginson, & Co.," said the
+other, with calm pertinacity. "Upon it depend your fortune and your
+son's life."
+
+"How long are you going to wait?"
+
+"Till evening. I leave to-night. Perhaps you would like to think this
+over. I'll give you till three o'clock. If you decide to accept, all
+well; if not, I go back."
+
+The stranger rose, and Potts unlocked the door for him.
+
+After he left Potts sat down, buried in his own reflections. In about an
+hour Clark came in.
+
+"Well, Johnnie!" said he, "what's up? You look down--any trouble?"
+
+At this Potts told Clark the story of the recent interview. Clark looked
+grave, and shook his head several times.
+
+"Bad! bad! bad!" said he, slowly, when Potts had ended. "You're in a
+tight place, lad, and I don't see what you've got to do but to knock
+under."
+
+A long silence followed.
+
+"When did that chap say he would leave?"
+
+"To-night."
+
+Another silence.
+
+"I suppose," said Clark, "we can find out how he goes?"
+
+"I suppose so," returned Potts, gloomily.
+
+"Somebody might go with him or follow him," said Clark, darkly.
+
+Potts looked at him. The two exchanged glances of intelligence.
+
+"You see, you pay your money, and get your papers back. It would be
+foolish to let this man get away with so much money. One hundred and two
+thousand five hundred isn't to be picked up every day. Let us pick it up
+this time, or try to. I can drop down to the inn this evening, and
+see the cut of the man. I don't like what he said about me. I call it
+backbiting."
+
+"You take a proper view of the matter," said Potts. "He's dangerous.
+He'll be down on you next. What I don't like about him is his
+cold-bloodedness."
+
+"It does come hard."
+
+"Well, we'll arrange it that way, shall we?"
+
+"Yes, you pay over, and get your documents, and I'll try my hand at
+getting the money back. I've done harder things than that in my time and
+so have you--hey, lad!"
+
+"I remember a few."
+
+"I wonder if this man knows any of them."
+
+"No," said Potts, confidently. "He would have said something."
+
+"Don't be too sure. The fact is, I've been troubled ever since that girl
+came out so strong on us. What are you going to do with her?"
+
+"Don't know," growled Potts. "Keep her still somehow."
+
+"Give her to me."
+
+"What'll you do with her?" asked Potts, in surprise.
+
+"Take her as my wife," said Clark, with a grin. "I think I'll follow
+your example and set up housekeeping. The girl's plucky; and I'd like to
+take her down."
+
+"We'll do it; and the sooner the better. You don't want a minister, do
+you?"
+
+"Well, I think I'll have it done up ship-shape, marriage in high life;
+papers all full of it; lovely appearance of the bride--ha, ha, ha!
+I'll save you all further trouble about her--a husband is better than
+a father in such a case. If that Italian comes round it'll be his last
+round."
+
+Some further conversation followed, in which Clark kept making perpetual
+references to his bride. The idea had taken hold of his mind completely.
+
+At one o'clock Potts went to the inn, where he found the agent. He
+handed over the money in silence. The agent gave him the documents.
+Potts looked at them all carefully.
+
+Then he departed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV.
+
+
+THE STRANGER'S STORY.
+
+That evening a number of people were in the principal parlor of the
+Brandon Inn. It was a cool evening in October; and there was a fire near
+which the partner of Bigelow, Higginson, & Co. had seated himself.
+
+Clark had come in at the first of the evening and had been there ever
+since, talking volubly and laughing boisterously. The others were more
+or less talkative, but none of them rivaled Clark. They were nearly
+all Brandon people; and in their treatment of Clark there was a certain
+restraint which the latter either did not wish or care to notice. As
+for the stranger he sat apart in silence without regarding any one in
+particular, and giving no indication whether he was listening to what
+was going on or was indifferent to it all. From time to time Clark threw
+glances in his direction, and once or twice he tried to draw some of the
+company out to make remarks about him; but the company seemed reluctant
+to touch upon the subject, and merely listened with patience.
+
+Clark had evidently a desire in his mind to be very entertaining and
+lively. With this intent he told a number of stories, most of which were
+intermingled with allusions to the company present, together with the
+stranger. At last he gazed at the latter in silence for some little
+time, and then turned to the company.
+
+"There's one among us that hasn't opened his mouth this evening. I call
+it unsociable. I move that the party proceed to open it forthwith. Who
+seconds the motion? Don't all speak at once."
+
+The company looked at one another, but no one made any reply.
+
+"What! no one speaks! All right; silence gives consent;" and with these
+words Clark advanced toward the stranger. The latter said nothing, but
+sat in a careless attitude.
+
+"Friend!" said Clark, standing before the stranger, "we're all friends
+here--we wish to be sociable--we think you are too silent--will you be
+kind enough to open your mouth? If you won't tell a story, perhaps you
+will be good enough to sing us a song?"
+
+The stranger sat upright.
+
+"Well," said he; in the same peculiar harsh voice and slow tone with
+which he had spoken to Potts, "the request is a fair one, and I shall be
+happy to open my mouth. I regret to state that having no voice I shall
+be unable to give you a song, but I'll be glad to tell a story, if the
+company will listen."
+
+"The company will feel honored," said Clark, in a mocking tone, as he
+resumed his seat.
+
+The stranger arose, and, going to the fire-place, picked up a piece of
+charcoal.
+
+Clark sat in the midst of the circle, looking at him with a sneering
+smile. "It's rather an odd story," said the stranger, "and I only heard
+it the other day; perhaps you won't believe it, but it's true."
+
+"Oh, never mind the truth of it!" exclaimed Clark--"push along."
+
+The stranger stepped up to the wall over the fire-place.
+
+"Before I begin I wish to make a few marks, which I will explain in
+process of time. My story is connected with these."
+
+He took his charcoal and made upon the wall the following marks:
+
+[Illustration: ^ /|\ [three lines, forming short arrow]
+
+
+ R [sans-serif R]
+
+
+ + [plus sign] ]
+
+He then turned, and stood for a moment in silence.
+
+The effect upon Clark was appalling. His face turned livid, his arms
+clutched violently at the seat of his chair, his jaw fell, and his eyes
+were fixed on the marks as though fascinated by them.
+
+The stranger appeared to take no notice of him.
+
+"These marks," said he, "were, or rather are, upon the back of a friend
+of mine, about whom I am going to tell a little story.
+
+"The first (/|\) is the Queen's mark, put on certain prisoners out in
+Botany Bay, who are totally insubordinate.
+
+"The second (R) signifies 'run away,' and is put on those who have
+attempted to escape.
+
+"The third (+) indicates a murderous assault on the guards. When they
+don't hang the culprit they put this on, and those who are branded in
+this way have nothing but hard work, in chains for life.
+
+"These marks are on the back of a friend of mine, whose name I need not
+mention, but for convenience sake I will call him Clark."
+
+Clark didn't even resent this, but sat mute, with a face of awful
+expectation.
+
+"My friend Clark had led a life of strange vicissitudes," said
+the stranger, "having slipped through the meshes of the law very
+successfully a great number of times, but finally he was caught, and
+sent to Botany Bay. He served his time out, and left; but, finally,
+after a series of very extraordinary adventures in India, and some odd
+events in the Indian Ocean, he came to England. Bad luck followed him,
+however. He made an attempt at burglary, and was caught, convicted, and
+sent back again to his old station at Botany Bay.
+
+"Of course he felt a strong reluctance to stay in such a place, and
+therefore began to plan an escape; he made one attempt, which was
+unsuccessful. He then laid a plot with two other notorious offenders.
+Each of these three had been branded with those letters which I have
+marked. One of these was named Stubbs, and another Wilson, the third was
+this Clark. No one knew how they met to make their arrangements, for the
+prison regulations are very strict; but; they did meet, and managed
+to confer together. They contrived to get rid of the chains that were
+fastened around their ankles, and one stormy night they started off and
+made a run for it.
+
+"The next day the guards were out in pursuit with dogs. They went all
+day long on their track over a very rough country, and finally came to a
+river. Here they prepared to pass the night.
+
+"On rising early on the following morning they saw something moving
+on the top of a hill on the opposite side of the river. On watching it
+narrowly they saw three men. They hurried on at once in pursuit. The
+fugitives kept well ahead, however, as was natural; and since they were
+running for life and freedom they made a better pace.
+
+"But they were pretty well worn out. They had taken no provisions with
+them, and had not calculated on so close a pursuit. They kept ahead
+as best they could, and at last reached a narrow river that ran down
+between cliffs through a gully to the sea. The cliffs on each side were
+high and bold. But they had to cross it; so down on one side they went,
+and up the other.
+
+"Clark and Stubbs got up first. Wilson was just reaching the top when
+the report of a gun was heard, and a bullet struck him in the
+arm. Groaning in his agony he rushed on trying to keep up with his
+companions.
+
+"Fortunately for them night came on. They hurried on all night, scarcely
+knowing where they were going, Wilson in an agony trying to keep up with
+them. Toward morning they snatched a little rest under a rock near a
+brook and then hurried forward.
+
+"For two days more they hastened on, keeping out of reach of their
+pursuers, yet still knowing that they were followed, or at least fearing
+it. They had gone over a wild country along the coast, and keeping a
+northward direction. At length, after four days of wandering, they
+came to a little creek by the sea-shore. There were three houses here
+belonging to fishermen. They rushed into the first hut and implored food
+and drink. The men were off to Sydney, but the kind-hearted women gave
+them what they had. They were terrified at the aspect of these wretched
+men, whose natural ferocity had been heightened by hardship, famine, and
+suffering. Gaunt and grim as they were, they seemed more terrible than
+three wild beasts. The women knew that they were escaped convicts.
+
+[Illustration: HE TOOK HIS CHARCOAL AND MADE UPON THE WALL THE FOLLOWING
+MARKS.]
+
+"There was a boat lying on the beach. To this the first thoughts of
+the fugitives were directed. They filled a cask of water and put it
+on board. They demanded some provisions from the fisherman's wife. The
+frightened woman gave them some fish and a few ship-biscuits. They were
+about to forage for themselves when Wilson, who had been watching, gave
+the alarm.
+
+"Their pursuers were upon them. They had to run for it at once. They had
+barely time to rush to the boat and get out a little distance when the
+guard reached the bench. The latter fired a few shots after them, but
+the shots took no effect.
+
+"The fugitives put out to sea in the open boat. They headed north,
+for they hoped to catch some Australian ship and be taken up. Their
+provisions were soon exhausted. Fortunately it was the rainy season, so
+that they had a plentiful supply of water, with which they managed to
+keep their cask filled; but that did not prevent them from suffering the
+agonies of famine. Clark and Stubbs soon began to look at Wilson with
+looks that made him quiver with terror. Naturally enough, gentlemen;
+you see they were starving. Wilson was the weakest of the three, and
+therefore was at their mercy. They tried, however, to catch fish. It was
+of no use. There seemed to be no fish in those seas, or else the bits of
+bread crumb which they put down were not an attractive bait.
+
+"The two men began to look at Wilson with the eyes of fiends--eyes that
+flamed with foul desire, beaming from deep, hollow orbits which famine
+had made. The days passed. One morning Wilson lay dead."
+
+The stranger paused for a moment, amidst an awful silence.
+
+"The lives of these two were preserved a little longer," he added, in
+slow, measured tones.
+
+"They sailed on. In a few days Clark and Stubbs began to look at one
+another. You will understand, gentlemen, that it was an awful thing for
+these men to cast at each other the same glances which they once cast
+on Wilson. Each one feared the other; each watched his chance, and each
+guarded against his companion.
+
+"They could no longer row. The one sat in the bow, the other in the
+stern, glaring at one another. My friend Clark was a man of singular
+endurance. But why go into particulars? Enough; the boat drifted on, and
+at last only one was left.
+
+"A ship was sailing from Australia, and the crew saw a boat drifting. A
+man was there. They stopped and picked him up. The boat was stained with
+blood. Tokens of what that blood was lay around. There were other things
+in the boat which chilled the blood of the sailors. They took Clark on
+board. He was mad at first, and raved in his delirium. They heard him
+tell of what he had done. During that voyage no one spoke to him. They
+touched at Cape Town, and put him ashore.
+
+"My friend is yet alive and well. How do you like my story?"
+
+The stranger sat down. A deep stillness followed, which was suddenly
+broken by something, half groan and half curse. It was Clark.
+
+He lifted himself heavily from his chair, his face livid and his eyes
+bloodshot, and staggered out of the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV.
+
+
+BEATRICE'S JOURNAL CONCLUDED.
+
+September 7, 1849.--[This part begins with a long account of her escape,
+her fortunes at Holby and London, and her recapture, which is here
+omitted, as it would be to a large extent a repetition of what has
+already been stated.]--After Brandon left me my heart still throbbed
+with the fierce impulse which he had imparted to it. For the remainder
+of the day I was upheld by a sort of consciousness of his presence. I
+felt as though he had only left me in person and had surrounded me in
+some way with his mysterious protection.
+
+Night came, and with the night came gloom. What availed his promise?
+Could he prevent what I feared? What power could he possibly have in
+this house? I felt deserted, and my old despair returned.
+
+In the morning I happened to cross the hall to go to Mrs. Compton's
+room, when, to my amazement, I saw standing outside the Hindu Asgeelo.
+Had I seen Brandon himself I could scarcely have been more amazed or
+overjoyed. He looked at me with a warning gesture.
+
+"How did you get here?" I whispered.
+
+"My master sent me."
+
+A thrill passed through my veins.
+
+"Do not fear," he said, and walked mysteriously away.
+
+I asked Mrs. Compton who he was, and she said he was a new servant whom
+_He_ had just hired. She knew nothing more of him.
+
+September 12.--A week has passed. Thus far I have been left alone.
+Perhaps they do not know what to do with me. Perhaps they are busy
+arranging some dark plan.
+
+Can I trust? Oh, Help of the helpless, save me!
+
+Asgeelo is here--but what can one man do? At best he can only report to
+his master my agony or my death. May that Death soon come. Kindly will I
+welcome him.
+
+September 15.--Things are certainly different here from what they used
+to be. The servants take pains to put themselves in my way, so as to
+show me profound respect. What is the meaning of this? Once or twice I
+have met them in the hall and have marked their humble bearing. Is it
+mockery? Or is it intended to entrap me? I will not trust any of them.
+Is it possible that this can be Brandon's mysterious power?
+
+Impossible. It is rather a trick to win my confidence: But if so, why?
+They do not need to trick me. I am at their mercy.
+
+I am at their mercy, and am without defense. What will become of me?
+What is to be my fate?
+
+Philips has been as devoted as ever. He leaves me flowers every day. He
+tries to show sympathy. At least I have two friends here--Philips and
+Asgeelo. But Philips is timid, and Asgeelo is only one against a crowd.
+There is Vijal--but I have not seen him.
+
+September 25--To-day in my closet I found a number of bottles of
+different kinds of medicine, used while I was sick. Two of these
+attracted my attention. Once was labeled "_Laudanum_," another was
+labeled "_Hydrocyanic Acid--Poison._" I suppose they used these drugs
+for my benefit at that time. The sight of them gave me more joy than any
+thing else that I could have found.
+
+When the time comes which I dread I shall not be without resource.
+_These shall save me._
+
+October 3.--They leave me unmolested. They are waiting for some
+crushing blow, no doubt. Asgeelo sometimes meets me, and makes signs of
+encouragement.
+
+To-day Philips met me and said: "Don't fear--the crisis is coming." I
+asked what he meant. As usual he looked frightened and hurried away.
+
+What does he mean? What crisis? The only crisis that I can think of is
+one which fills me with dread. When that comes I will meet it firmly.
+
+October 10.--Mrs. Compton told me to-day that Philips had gone to London
+on business. The poor old thing looked very much troubled. I urged her
+to tell me what was the matter, but she only looked the more terrified.
+Why she should feel alarm about the departure of Philips for London
+I can not imagine. Has it any thing to do with me? No. How can it? My
+fate, whatever it is, must be wrought out here in this place.
+
+October 14.--The dreaded crisis has come at last. Will not this be my
+last entry? How can I longer avoid the fate that impends?
+
+This afternoon He sent for me to come down.
+
+I went to the dining-room expecting some horror, and I was not
+disappointed. The three were sitting there as they had sat before, and
+I thought that there was trouble upon their faces. It was only two
+o'clock, and they had just finished lunch.
+
+John was the first to speak. He addressed me in a mocking tone.
+
+"I have the honor to inform you," said he, "that the time has arrived
+when you are to be took down."
+
+I paid no attention whatever to these words. I felt calm. The old sense
+of superiority came over me, and I looked at Him without a tremor.
+
+My tyrant glanced at me with a dark scowl. "After your behavior, girl,
+you ought to bless your lucky stars that you got off as you did. If I
+had done right, I'd have made you pay up well for the trouble you've
+given. But I've spared you. At the same time I wouldn't have done so
+long. I was just arranging a nice little plan for your benefit when
+this gentleman"--nodding his head to Clark--"this gentleman saved me the
+trouble."
+
+I said nothing.
+
+"Come, Clark, speak up--it's your affair--"
+
+"Oh, you manage it," said Clark. "You've got the 'gift of gab.' I never
+had it."
+
+"I never in all my born days saw so bold a man as timid with a girl as
+you are."
+
+"He's doin' what I shouldn't like to try on," said John.
+
+"See here," said my tyrant, sternly, "this gentleman has very kindly
+consented to take charge of you. He has even gone so far as to consent
+to marry you. He will actually make you his wife. In my opinion he's
+crazy, but he's got his own ideas. He has promised to give you a tip-top
+wedding. If it had been left to me," he went on, sternly, "I'd have let
+you have something very different, but he's a soft-hearted fellow, and
+is going to do a foolish thing. It's lucky for you though. You'd have
+had a precious hard time of it with me, I tell you. You've got to be
+grateful to him; so come up here, and give him a kiss, and thank him."
+
+So prepared was I for any horror that this did not surprise me.
+
+"Do you hear?" he cried, as I stood motionless. I said nothing.
+
+"Do as I say, d--n you, or I'll make you."
+
+"Come," said Clark, "don't make a fuss about the wench now--it'll be all
+right. She'll like kissing well enough, and be only too glad to give me
+one before a week."
+
+"Yes, but she ought to be made to do it now."
+
+"Not necessary, Johnnie; all in good time."
+
+My master was silent for some moments. At last he spoke again:
+
+"Girl," said he. "You are to be married tomorrow. There won't be any
+invited guests, but you needn't mind that. You'll have your husband, and
+that's more than you deserve. You don't want any new dresses. Your ball
+dress will do."
+
+"Come, I won't stand that," said Clark. "She's got to be dressed up in
+tip-top style. I'll stand the damage."
+
+"Oh, d--n the damage. If you want that sort of thing, it shall be done.
+But there won't be time."
+
+"Oh well, let her fix up the best way she can."
+
+At this I turned and left the room. None of them tried to prevent me. I
+went up to my chamber, and sat down thinking. The hour had come.
+
+This is my last entry. My only refuge from horror unspeakable is the
+Poison.
+
+Perhaps one day some one will find my journal where it is concealed. Let
+them learn from it what anguish may be endured by the innocent.
+
+May God have mercy upon my soul! Amen.
+
+October 14, 11 o'clock.--Hope!
+
+Mrs. Compton came to me a few minutes since. She had received a letter
+from Philips by Asgeelo. She said the Hindu wished to see me. He was at
+my door. I went there. He told me that I was to fly from Brandon Hall at
+two o'clock in the morning. He would take care of me. Mrs. Compton
+said she was to go with me. A place had been found where we could get
+shelter.
+
+Oh my God, I thank thee! Already when I heard this I was mixing the
+draught. Two o'clock was the hour on which I had decided for a different
+kind of flight.
+
+Oh God! deliver the captive. Save me, as I put my trust in thee! Amen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVI.
+
+
+THE LAST ESCAPE.
+
+The hour which Beatrice had mentioned in her diary was awaited by
+herewith feverish impatience. She had confidence in Asgeelo, and this
+confidence was heightened by the fact that Mrs. Compton was going to
+accompany her. The very timidity of this poor old creature would have
+prevented her from thinking of escape on any ordinary occasion; but now
+the latter showed no fear. She evinced a strange exultation. She showed
+Philips's letter to Beatrice, and made her read it over and over again.
+It contained only a few words.
+
+"The time has come at last. I will keep my word to you, dear old woman.
+Be ready tonight to leave Brandon Hall and those devils forever. The
+Hindu will help you.
+
+"EDGAR."
+
+Mrs. Compton seemed to think far more of the letter than of escaping.
+The fact that she had a letter seemed to absorb all her faculties, and
+no other idea entered her mind. Beatrice had but few preparations to
+make; a small parcel contained all with which she dared to encumber
+herself. Hastily making it up she waited in extreme impatience for the
+time.
+
+At last two o'clock came. Mrs. Compton was in her room. There was a
+faint tap at the door. Beatrice opened it. It was Asgeelo. The Hindu
+stood with his finger on his lips, and then moved away slowly and
+stealthily. They followed.
+
+The Hindu led the way, carrying a small lantern. He did not show any
+very great caution, but moved with a quiet step, thinking it sufficient
+if he made no noise. Beatrice followed, and Mrs. Compton came last,
+carrying nothing but the note from Philips, which she clutched in
+her hand as though she esteemed it the only thing of value which she
+possessed.
+
+[ILLUSTRATION: "THE GIGANTIC FIGURE OF ASGEELO STOOD ERECT, ONE ARM
+CLUTCHING THE THROAT OF HIS ASSAILANT, AND THE OTHER HOLDING THE KNIFE
+ALOFT."]
+
+In spite of Beatrice's confidence in Asgeelo she felt her heart sink
+with dread as she passed through the hall and down the great stairway.
+But no sound disturbed them. The lights were all out and the house was
+still. The door of the dining-room was open, but no light shone through.
+
+Asgeelo led the way to the north door. They went on quietly without any
+interruption, and at last reached it. Asgeelo turned the key and held
+the door half open for a moment. Then he turned and whispered to them to
+go out.
+
+Beatrice took two or three steps forward, when suddenly a dark figure
+emerged from the stairway that led to the servants' hall and with a
+sudden spring, advanced to Asgeelo.
+
+The latter dropped the lamp, which fell with a rattle on the floor but
+still continued burning. He drew a long, keen knife from his breast, and
+seized the other by the throat.
+
+Beatrice started back. By the light that flickered on the floor she saw
+it all. The gigantic figure of Asgeelo stood erect, one arm clutching
+the throat of his assailant, and the other holding the knife aloft.
+
+Beatrice rushed forward and caught the uplifted arm.
+
+"Spare him!" she said, in a low whisper. "He is my friend. He helped me
+to escape once before."
+
+She had recognized Vijal.
+
+The Hindu dropped his arm and released his hold. The Malay staggered
+back and looked earnestly at Beatrice. Recognizing her, he fell on his
+knees and kissed her hand.
+
+"I will keep your secret," he murmured.
+
+Beatrice hurried out, and the others followed. They heard the key turn
+in the door after them. Vijal had locked it from the inside.
+
+Asgeelo led the way with a swift step. They went down the main avenue,
+and at length reached the gate without any interruption. The gates were
+shut.
+
+Beatrice looked around in some dread for fear of being discovered.
+Asgeelo said nothing, but tapped at the door of the porter's lodge. The
+door soon opened, and the porter came out. He said nothing, but opened
+the gates in silence.
+
+They went out. The huge gates shut behind them. They heard the key turn
+in the lock. In her excitement Beatrice wondered at this, and saw that
+the porter must also be in the secret. Was this the work of Brandon?
+
+They passed down the road a little distance, and at length reached a
+place where there were two coaches and some men.
+
+One of these came up and took Mrs. Compton. "Come, old woman," said he;
+"you and I are to go in this coach." It was too dark to see who it was;
+but the voice sounded like that of Philips. He led her into the coach
+and jumped in after her.
+
+There was another figure there. He advanced in silence, and motioned to
+the coach without a word. Beatrice followed; the coach door was opened,
+and she entered. Asgeelo mounted the box. The stranger entered the coach
+and shut the door.
+
+Beatrice had not seen the face of this man; but at the sight of the
+outline of his figure a strange, wild thought came to her mind. As he
+seated himself by her side a thrill passed through every nerve. Not a
+word was spoken.
+
+He reached out one hand, and caught hers in a close and fervid clasp. He
+threw his arm about her waist, and drew her toward him. Her head sank in
+a delicious languor upon his breast; and she felt the fast throbbing
+of his heart as she lay there. He held her pressed closely for a long
+while, drawing quick and heavy breaths, and not speaking a word. Then he
+smoothed her brow, stroked her hair, and caressed her cheek. Every touch
+of his made her blood tingle.
+
+"Do you know who I am?" said at last a well-known voice.
+
+She made no answer, but pressed his hand and nestled more closely to his
+heart.
+
+The carriages rushed on swiftly. They went through the village, passed
+the inn, and soon entered the open country. Beatrice, in that moment of
+ecstasy, knew not and cared not whither they were going. Enough that she
+was with him.
+
+"You have saved me from a fate of horror," said she, tremulously; "or
+rather, you have prevented me from saving myself."
+
+"How could you have saved yourself?"
+
+"I found poison."
+
+She felt the shudder that passed through his frame. He pressed her again
+to his heart, and sat for a long time in silence.
+
+"How had you the heart to let me go back when you could get me away so
+easily?" said she, after a time, in a reproachful tone.
+
+"I could not save you then," answered he, "without open violence. I
+wished to defer that for the accomplishment of a purpose which you know.
+But I secured your safety, for all the servants at Brandon Hall are in
+my pay."
+
+"What! Vijal too?"
+
+"No, not Vijal; he was incorruptible; but all the others. They would
+have obeyed your slightest wish in any respect. They would have shed
+their blood for you, for the simple reason that I had promised to pay
+each man an enormous sum if he saved you from any trouble. They were
+all on the look out. You never were so watched in your life. If you had
+chosen to run off every man of them would have helped you, and would
+have rejoiced at the chance of making themselves rich at the expense of
+Potts. Under these circumstances I thought you were safe."
+
+"And why did you not tell me?"
+
+"Ah! love, there are many things which I must not tell you."
+
+He sighed. His sombre tone brought back her senses which had been
+wandering. She struggled to get away. He would not release her.
+
+"Let me go!" said she. "I am of the accursed brood--the impure ones! You
+are polluted by my touch!"
+
+"I will not let you go," returned he, in a tone of infinite sweetness.
+"Not now. This may be our last interview. How can I let you go?"
+
+"I am pollution."
+
+"You are angelic. Oh, let us not think of other things. Let us banish
+from our minds the thought of that barrier which rises between us. While
+we are here let us forget every thing except that we love one another.
+To-morrow will come, and our joy will be at an end forever. But you,
+darling, will be saved! I will guard you to my life's end, even though I
+can not come near you."
+
+Tears fell from Beatrice's eyes. He felt them hot upon his hand. He
+sighed deeply.
+
+"I am of the accursed brood!--the accursed!--the accursed! You dishonor
+your name by touching me."
+
+Brandon clang to her. He would not let her go. She wept there upon his
+breast, and still murmured the words, "Accursed! accursed!"
+
+Their carriage rolled on, behind them came the other; on for mile after
+mile, round the bays and creeks of the sea, until at last they reached a
+village.
+
+"This is our destination," said Brandon.
+
+"Where are we?" sighed Beatrice.
+
+"It is Denton," he replied.
+
+The coach stopped before a little cottage. Asgeelo opened the door.
+Brandon pressed Beatrice to his heart.
+
+"For the last time, darling," he murmured.
+
+She said nothing. He helped her out, catching her in his arms as she
+descended, and lifting her to the ground. Mrs. Compton was already
+waiting, having descended first. Lights were burning in the cottage
+window.
+
+"This is your home for the present," said Brandon. "Here you are safe.
+You will find every thing that you want, and the servants are faithful.
+You may trust them."
+
+He shook hands, with Mrs. Compton, pressed the hand of Beatrice, and
+leaped into the coach.
+
+"Good-by," he called, as Asgeelo whipped the horses.
+
+"Good-by forever," murmured Beatrice through her tears.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVII.
+
+
+ROUSED AT LAST.
+
+About this time Despard received a call from Langhetti. "I am going
+away," said the latter, after the preliminary greetings. "I am well
+enough now to resume my search after Beatrice."
+
+"Beatrice?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What can you do?"
+
+"I haven't an idea; but I mean to try to do something."
+
+Langhetti certainly did not look like a man who was capable of doing
+very much, especially against one like Potts. Thin, pale, fragile, and
+emaciated, his slender form seemed ready to yield to the pressure of the
+first fatigue which he might encounter. Yet his resolution was strong,
+and he spoke confidently of being able in some mysterious way to effect
+the escape of Beatrice. He had no idea how he could do it. He had
+exerted his strongest influence, and had come away discomfited. Still he
+had confidence in himself and trust in God, and with these he determined
+to set out once more, and to succeed or perish in the attempt.
+
+After he had left Despard sat moodily in his study for some hours. At
+last a visitor was announced. He was a man whom Despard had never seen
+before, and who gave his name as Wheeler.
+
+The stranger on entering regarded Despard for some time with an earnest
+glance in silence. At last he spoke: "You are the son of Lionel Despard,
+are you not?"
+
+"Yes," said Despard, in some surprise.
+
+"Excuse me for alluding to so sad an event; but you are, of course,
+aware of the common story of his death."
+
+"Yes," replied Despard, in still greater surprise.
+
+"That story is known to the world," said the stranger. "His case was
+publicly tried at Manilla, and a Malay was executed for the crime."
+
+"I know that," returned Despard, "and I know, also, that there were
+some, and that there still are some, who suspect that the Malay was
+innocent."
+
+"Who suspected this?"
+
+"My uncle Henry Despard and myself."
+
+"Will you allow me to ask you if your suspicions pointed at any one?"
+
+"My uncle hinted at one person, but he had nothing more than
+suspicions."
+
+"Who was the man?"
+
+"A man who was my father's valet, or agent, who accompanied him on that
+voyage, and took an active part in the conviction of the Malay."
+
+"What was his name?"
+
+"John Potts."
+
+"Where does he live now?"
+
+"In Brandon."
+
+"Very well. Excuse my questions, but I was anxious to learn how much you
+knew. You will see shortly that they were not idle. Has any thing ever
+been done by any of the relatives to discover whether these suspicions
+were correct?"
+
+"At first nothing was done. They accepted as an established fact the
+decision of the Manilla court. They did not even suspect then that any
+thing else was possible. It was only subsequent circumstances that led
+my uncle to have some vague suspicions."
+
+"What were those, may I ask?"
+
+"I would rather not tell," said Despard, who shrank from relating to a
+stranger the mysterious story of Edith Brandon.
+
+"It is as well, perhaps. At any rate, you say there were no suspicions
+expressed till your uncle was led to form them?"
+
+"No."
+
+"About how long ago was this?"
+
+"About two years ago--a little more, perhaps. I at once devoted myself
+to the task of discovering whether they could be maintained. I found it
+impossible, however, to learn any thing. The event had happened so long
+ago that it had faded out of men's minds. The person whom I suspected
+had become very rich, influential, and respected. In fact, he was
+unassailable, and I have been compelled to give up the effort."
+
+"Would you like to learn something of the truth?" asked the stranger, in
+a thrilling voice.
+
+Despard's whole soul was roused by this question.
+
+"More than any thing else," replied he.
+
+"There is a sand-bank," began the stranger, "three hundred miles south
+of the island of Java, which goes by the name of Coffin Island. It is so
+called on account of a rock of peculiar shape at the eastern extremity.
+I was coming from the East, on my way to England, when a violent storm
+arose, and I was cast ashore alone upon that island. This may
+seem extraordinary to you, but what I have to tell is still more
+extraordinary. I found food and water there, and lived for some time. At
+last another hurricane came and blew away all the sand from a mound at
+the western end. This mound had been piled about a wrecked vessel--a
+vessel wrecked twenty years ago, twenty years ago," he repeated, with
+startling emphasis, "and the name of that vessel was the _Vishnu_."
+
+"The _Vishnu_!" cried Despard, starting to his feet, while his whole
+frame was shaken by emotion at this strange narrative. "_Vishnu_!"
+
+"Yes, the _Vishnu_!" continued the stranger.
+
+"You know what that means. For many years that vessel had lain there,
+entombed amidst the sands, until at last I--on that lonely isle--saw
+the sands swept away and the buried ship revealed. I went on board. I
+entered the cabin. I passed through it. At last I entered a room at one
+corner. A skeleton lay there. Do you know whose it was?"
+
+"Whose?" cried Despard, in a frenzy of excitement.
+
+"_Your father's_!" said the stranger, in an awful voice.
+
+"God in heaven!" exclaimed Despard, and he sank back into his seat.
+
+"In his hand he held a manuscript, which was his last message to his
+friends. It was inclosed in a bottle. The storm had prevented him from
+throwing it overboard. He held it there as though waiting for some one
+to take it. I was the one appointed to that task. I took it. I read it,
+and now that I have arrived in England I have brought it to you."
+
+"Where is it?" cried Despard, in wild excitement.
+
+"Here," said the stranger, and he laid a package upon the table.
+
+Despard seized it, and tore open the coverings. At the first sight
+he recognized the handwriting of his father, familiar to him from old
+letters written to him when he was a child--letters which he had always
+preserved, and every turn of which was impressed upon his memory. The
+first glance was sufficient to impress upon his mind the conviction that
+the stranger's tale was true.
+
+Without another word he began to read it. And as he read all his soul
+became associated with that lonely man, drifting in his drifting ship.
+There he read the villainy of the miscreant who had compassed his death,
+and the despair of the castaway.
+
+That suffering man was his own father. It was this that gave intensity
+to his thoughts as he read. The dying man bequeathed his vengeance to
+Ralph Brandon, and his blessing to his son.
+
+Despard read over the manuscript many times. It was his father's words
+to himself.
+
+"I am in haste," said the stranger. "The manuscript is yours. I have
+made inquiries for Ralph Brandon, and find that he is dead. It is for
+you to do as seems good. You are a clergyman, but you are also a man;
+and a father's wrongs cry to Heaven for vengeance."
+
+"And they shall be avenged!" exclaimed Despard, striking his clenched
+hand upon the table.
+
+"I have something more before I go," continued the stranger,
+mournfully--"something which you will prize more than life. It was worn
+next your father's heart till he died. I found it there."
+
+Saying this he handed to Despard a miniature, painted on enamel,
+representing a beautiful woman, whose features were like his own.
+
+"My mother!" cried Despard, passionately, and he covered the miniature
+with kisses.
+
+"I buried your father," said the stranger, after a long pause. "His
+remains now lie on Coffin Island, in their last resting-place."
+
+"And who are you? What are you? How did you find me out? What is your
+object?" cried Despard, eagerly.
+
+"I am Mr. Wheeler," said the stranger, calmly; "and I come to give you
+these things in order to fulfill my duty to the dead. It remains for you
+to fulfill yours."
+
+"That duty shall be fulfilled!" exclaimed Despard. "The law does not
+help me: I will help myself. I know some of these men at least. I will
+do the duty of a son."
+
+The stranger bowed and withdrew.
+
+Despard paced the room for hours. A fierce thirst for vengeance had
+taken possession of him. Again and again he read the manuscript, and
+after each reading his vengeful feeling became stronger.
+
+At last he had a purpose. He was no longer the imbecile--the
+crushed--the hopeless. In the full knowledge of his father's misery his
+own became endurable.
+
+In the morning he saw Langhetti and told him all.
+
+"But who is the stranger?" Despard asked in wonder.
+
+"It can only be one person," said Langhetti, solemnly.
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Louis Brandon. He and no other. Who else could thus have been chosen to
+find the dead? He has his wrongs also to avenge."
+
+Despard was silent. Overwhelming thoughts crowded upon him. Was this man
+Louis Brandon?
+
+"We must find him," said he. "We must gain his help in our work. We must
+also tell him about Edith."
+
+"Yes," replied Langhetti. "But no doubt he has his own work before
+him; and this is but part of his plan, to rouse you from inaction to
+vengeance."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVIII.
+
+
+WHO IS HE?
+
+On the morning after the last escape of Beatrice, Clark went up to
+Brandon Hall. It was about nine o'clock. A sullen frown was on his
+face, which was pervaded by an expression of savage malignity. A deeply
+preoccupied look, as though he were altogether absorbed in his own
+thoughts, prevented him from noticing the half-smiles which the servants
+cast at one another.
+
+Asgeelo opened the door. That valuable servant was at his post as usual.
+Clark brushed past him with a growl and entered the dining-room.
+
+Potts was standing in front of the fire with a flushed face and savage
+eyes. John was stroking his dog, and appeared quite indifferent. Clark,
+however, was too much taken up with his own thoughts to notice Potts. He
+came in and sat down in silence.
+
+"Well," said Potts, "did you do that business?"
+
+"No," growled Clark.
+
+"No!" cried Potts. "Do you mean to say you didn't follow up the fellow?"
+
+"I mean to say it's no go," returned Clark. "I did what I could. But
+when you are after a man, and he turns out to be the DEVIL HIMSELF, what
+can you do?"
+
+At these words, which were spoken with unusual excitement, John gave a
+low laugh, but said nothing.
+
+"You've been getting rather soft lately, it seems to me," said Potts.
+"At any rate, what did you do?"
+
+"Well," said Clark, slowly--"I went to that inn--to watch the fellow.
+He was sitting by the fire, taking it very easy. I tried to make out
+whether I had ever seen him before, but could not. He sat by the fire,
+and wouldn't say a word. I tried to trot him out, and at last I did so.
+He trotted out in good earnest, and if any man was ever kicked at
+and ridden rough-shod over, I'm that individual. He isn't a man--he's
+Beelzebub. He knows every thing. He began in a playful way by taking a
+piece of charcoal and writing on the wall some marks which belong to me,
+and which I'm a little delicate about letting people see; in fact, the
+Botany Bay marks."
+
+"Did he know that?" cried Potts, aghast.
+
+"Not only knew it, but, as I was saying, marked it on the wall. That's
+a sign of knowledge. And for fear they wouldn't be understood, he kindly
+explained to about a dozen people present the particular meaning of
+each."
+
+"The devil!" said John.
+
+"That's what I said he was," rejoined Clark, dryly. "But that's nothing.
+I remember when I was a little boy," he continued, pensively, "hearing
+the parson read about some handwriting on the wall, that frightened
+Beelzebub himself; but I tell you this handwriting on the wall used me
+up a good deal more than that other. Still what followed was worse."
+
+Clark paused for a little while, and then, taking a long breath, went
+on.
+
+"He proceeded to give to the assembled company an account of my life,
+particularly that very interesting part of it which I passed on my last
+visit to Botany Bay. You know my escape."
+
+He stopped for a while.
+
+"Did he know about that, too?" asked Potts, with some agitation.
+
+"Johnnie," said Clark, "he knew a precious sight more than you do, and
+told some things which I had forgotten myself. Why, that devil stood up
+there and slowly told the company not only what I did but what I felt.
+He brought it all back. He told how I looked at Stubbs, and how Stubbs
+looked at me in the boat. He told how we sat looking at each other, each
+in our own end of the boat."
+
+Clark stopped again, and no one spoke for a long time.
+
+"I lost my breath and ran out," he resumed, "and was afraid to go back.
+I did so at last. It was then almost midnight. I found him still sitting
+there. He smiled at me in a way that fairly made my blood run cold.
+'Crocker,' said he, 'sit down.'"
+
+At this Potts and John looked at each other in horror.
+
+"He knows that too?" said John.
+
+"Every thing," returned Clark, dejectedly.
+
+"Well, when he said that I looked a little surprised, as you may be
+sure.
+
+"'I thought you'd be back,' said he, 'for you want to see me, you know.
+You're going to follow me,' says he. 'You've got your pistols all ready,
+so, as I always like to oblige a friend, I'll give you a chance. Come.'
+
+"At this I fairly staggered.
+
+"'Come,' says he, 'I've got all that money, and Potts wants it back. And
+you're going to get it from me. Come.'
+
+"I swear to you I could not move. He smiled at me as before, and quietly
+got up and left the house. I stood for some time fixed to the spot. At
+last I grew reckless. 'If he's the devil himself,' says I, 'I'll have it
+out with him.' I rushed out and followed in his pursuit. After some time
+I overtook him. He was on horseback, but his horse was walking. He heard
+me coming. 'Ah, Crocker,' said he, quite merrily, 'so you've come, have
+you?'
+
+"I tore my pistol from my pocket and fired. The only reply was a loud
+laugh. He went on without turning his head. I was now sure that it was
+the devil, but I fired my other pistol. He gave a tremendous laugh,
+turned his horse, and rode full at me. His horse seemed as large as the
+village church. Every thing swam around, and I fell headforemost on the
+ground. I believe I lay there all night. When I came to it was morning,
+and I hurried straight here."
+
+As he ended Clark arose, and, going to the sideboard, poured out a large
+glass of brandy, which he drank raw.
+
+"The fact is," said John, after long thought, "you've been tricked. This
+fellow has doctored your pistols and frightened you."
+
+"But I loaded them myself," replied Clark.
+
+"When?"
+
+"Oh, I always keep them loaded in my room. I tried them, and found the
+charge was in them."
+
+"Oh, somebody's fixed them."
+
+"I don't think half as much about the pistols as about what he told me.
+What devil could have put all that into his head? Answer me that," said
+Clark.
+
+"Somebody's at work around us," said John. "I feel it in my bones."
+
+"We're getting used up," said Potts. "The girl's gone again."
+
+"The girl! Gone!"
+
+"Yes, and Mrs. Compton too."
+
+"The devil!"
+
+"I'd rather lose the girl than Mrs. Compton; but when they both vanish
+the same night what are you to think?"
+
+"I think the devil is loose."
+
+"I'm afraid he's turned against us," said Potts, in a regretful tone.
+"He's got tired of helping us."
+
+"Do none of the servants know any thing about it?"
+
+"No--none of them."
+
+"Have you asked them all?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Doesn't that new servant, the Injin?"
+
+"No; they all went to bed at twelve. Vijal was up as late as two. They
+all swear that every thing was quiet."
+
+"Did they go out through the doors?"
+
+"The doors were all locked as usual."
+
+"There's treachery somewhere!" cried John, with more excitement than
+usual.
+
+The others were silent.
+
+"I believe that the girl's at the bottom of it all," said John. "We've
+been trying to take her down ever since she came, but it's my belief
+that we'll end by getting took down ourselves. I scented bad luck in her
+at the other side of the world. We've been acting like fools. We ought
+to have silenced her at first."
+
+"No," rejoined Potts, gloomily. "There's somebody at work deeper than
+she is. Somebody--but who?--who?"
+
+"Nobody but the devil," said Clark, firmly.
+
+"I've been thinking about that Italian," continued Potts. "He's the only
+man living that would bother his head about the girl. They know a good
+deal between them. I think he's managed some of this last business. He
+humbugged us. It isn't the devil; it's this Italian. We must look out;
+he'll be around here again perhaps."
+
+Clark's eyes brightened.
+
+"The next time," said he, "I'll load my pistols fresh, and then see if
+he'll escape me!"
+
+At this a noise was heard in the hall. Potts went out. The servants had
+been scouring the grounds as before, but with no result.
+
+"No use," said John. "I tried it with my dog. He went straight down
+through the gate, and a little distance outside the scent was lost. I
+tried him with Mrs. Compton too. They both went together, and of course
+had horses or carriages there."
+
+"What does the porter say?" asked Clark.
+
+"He swears that he was up till two, and then went to bed, and that
+nobody was near the gate."
+
+"Well, we can't do any thing," said Potts; "but I'll send some of the
+servants off to see what they can hear. The scent was lost so soon that
+we can't tell what direction they took.
+
+"You'll never get her again," said John; "she's gone for good this
+time."
+
+Potts swore a deep oath and relapsed into silence. After a time they all
+went down to the bank.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIX.
+
+
+THE RUN ON THE BANK.
+
+Not long after the bank opened a number of people came in who asked
+for gold in return for some bank-notes which they offered. This was an
+unusual circumstance. The people also were strangers. Potts wondered
+what it could mean. There was no help for it, however. The gold was paid
+out, and Potts and his friends began to feel somewhat alarmed at the
+thought which now presented itself for the first time that their very
+large circulation of notes might be returned upon them. He communicated
+this fear to Clark.
+
+"How much gold have you?"
+
+"Very little."
+
+"How much?"
+
+"Thirty thousand."
+
+"Phew!" said Clark, "and nearly two hundred thousand out in notes!"
+
+Potts was silent.
+
+"What'll you do if there is a run on the bank?"
+
+"Oh, there won't be."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"My credit is too good."
+
+"Your credit won't be worth a rush if people know this."
+
+While they talked persons kept dropping in. Most of the villagers and
+people of the neighborhood brought back the notes, demanding gold. By
+about twelve o'clock the influx was constant.
+
+Potts began to feel alarmed. He went out, and tried to bully some of the
+villagers. They did not seem to pay any attention to him, however. Potts
+went back to his parlor discomfited, vowing vengeance against those who
+had thus slighted him. The worst of these was the tailor, who brought in
+notes to the extent of a thousand pounds, and when Potts ordered him out
+and told him to wait, only laughed in his face.
+
+"Haven't you got gold enough?" said the tailor, with a sneer. "Are you
+afraid of the bank? Well, old Potts, so am I."
+
+At this there was a general laugh among the people.
+
+The bank clerks did not at all sympathize with the bank. They were too
+eager to pay out. Potts had to check them. He called them in his parlor,
+and ordered them to pay out more slowly. They all declared that they
+couldn't.
+
+The day dragged on till at last three o'clock came. Fifteen thousand
+pounds had been paid out. Potts fell into deep despondency. Clark had
+remained throughout the whole morning.
+
+"There's going to be a run on the bank!" said he. "It's only begun."
+
+Potts's sole answer was a curse.
+
+"What are you going to do?" he asked.
+
+"You'll have to help me," replied Potts. "You've got something."
+
+"I've got fifty thousand pounds in the Plymouth Bank."
+
+"You'll have to let me have it."
+
+Clark hesitated.
+
+"I don't know," said he.
+
+"D-n it, man, I'll give you any security you wish. I've got more
+security than I know what to do with."
+
+"Well," said Clark, "I don't know. There's a risk."
+
+"I only want it for a few days. I'll send down stock to my London broker
+and have it sold. It will give me hundreds of thousands--twice as much
+as all the bank issue. Then I'll pay up these devils well, and that
+d----d tailor worst of all. I swear I'll send it all down to-day, and
+have every bit of it sold. If there's going to be a run, I'll be ready
+for them."
+
+"How much have you?"
+
+"I'll send it all down--though I'm devilish sorry," continued Potts.
+"How much? why, see here;" and he penciled down the following figures on
+a piece of paper, which he showed to Clark:
+
+  California Company.................L100,000
+  Mexican bonds .....................  50,000
+  Guatemala do. .....................  50,000
+  Venezuela do. .....................  50,000
+                                     --------
+                                     L250,000
+
+"What do you think of that, my boy?" said Potts.
+
+"Well," returned Clark, cautiously, "I don't like them American names."
+
+"Why," said Potts, "the stock is at a premium. I've been getting from
+twenty to twenty-five per cent. dividends. They'll sell for three
+hundred thousand nearly. I'll sell them all. I'll sell them all,"
+he cried. "I'll have gold enough to put a stop to this sort of thing
+forever."
+
+"I thought you had some French and Russian bonds," said Clark.
+
+"I gave those to that devil who had the--the papers, you know. He
+consented to take them, and I was very glad, for they paid less than the
+others."
+
+Clark was silent.
+
+"Why, man, what are you thinking about? Don't you know that I'm good for
+two millions, what with my estate and my stock?"
+
+"But you owe an infernal lot."
+
+"And haven't I notes and other securities from every body?"
+
+"Yes, from every body; but how can you get hold of them?"
+
+"The first people of the county!"
+
+"And as poor as rats."
+
+"London merchants!"
+
+"Who are they? How can you get back your money?"
+
+"Smithers & Co. will let me have what I want."
+
+"If Smithers & Co. knew the present state of affairs I rather think that
+they'd back down."
+
+"Pooh! What! Back down from a man with my means! Nonsense! They know how
+rich I am, or they never would have begun. Come, don't be a fool. It'll
+take three days to get gold for my stock, and if you don't help me the
+bank may stop before I get it. If you'll help me for three days I'll pay
+you well."
+
+[Illustration: THE RUN ON THE BANK]
+
+"How much will you give?"
+
+"I'll give ten thousand pounds--there! I don't mind."
+
+"Done. Give me your note for sixty thousand pounds, and I'll let you
+have the fifty thousand for three days."
+
+"All right. You've got me where my hair is short; but I don't mind. When
+can I have the money?"
+
+"The day after to-morrow. I'll go to Plymouth now, get the money
+to-morrow, and you can use it the next day."
+
+"All right; I'll send down John to London with the stock, and he'll
+bring up the gold at once."
+
+Clark started off immediately for Plymouth, and not long after John went
+away to London. Potts remained to await the storm which he dreaded.
+
+The next day came. The bank opened late on purpose. Potts put up a
+notice that it was to be closed that day at twelve, on account of the
+absence of some of the directors.
+
+At about eleven the crowd of people began to make their appearance as
+before. Their demands were somewhat larger than on the previous day.
+Before twelve ten thousand pounds had been paid. At twelve the bank
+was shut in the faces of the clamorous people, in accordance with the
+notice.
+
+Strangers were there from all parts of the county. The village inn was
+crowded, and a large number of carriages was outside. Potts began to
+look forward to the next day with deep anxiety. Only five thousand
+pounds remained in the bank. One man had come with notes to the extent
+of five thousand, and had only been got rid of by the shutting of the
+bank. He left, vowing vengeance.
+
+To Potts's immense relief Clark made his appearance early on the
+following day. He had brought the money. Potts gave him his note for
+sixty thousand pounds, and the third day began.
+
+By ten o'clock the doors were besieged by the largest crowd that had
+ever assembled in this quiet village. Another host of lookers-on had
+collected. When the doors were opened they poured in with a rush.
+
+The demands on this third day were very large. The man with the five
+thousand had fought his way to the counter first, and clamored to be
+paid. The noise and confusion were overpowering. Every body was cursing
+the bank or laughing at it. Each one felt doubtful about getting his
+pay. Potts tried to be dignified for a time. He ordered them to be
+quiet, and assured them that they would all be paid. His voice was
+drowned in the wild uproar. The clerks counted out the gold as rapidly
+as possible, in spite of the remonstrances of Potts, who on three
+occasions called them all into the parlor, and threatened to dismiss
+them unless they counted more slowly. His threats were disregarded.
+They went back, and paid out as rapidly as before. The amounts required
+ranged from five or ten pounds to thousands of pounds. At last, after
+paying out thousands, one man came up who had notes to the amount of ten
+thousand pounds. This was the largest demand that had yet been made. It
+was doubtful whether there was so large an amount left. Potts came out
+to see him. There was no help for it; he had to parley with the enemy.
+
+He told him that it was within a few minutes of three, and that it would
+take an hour at least to count out so much--would he not wait till the
+next day? There would be ample time then.
+
+The man had no objection. It was all the same to him. He went out with
+his bundle of notes through the crowd, telling them that the bank could
+not pay him. This intelligence made the excitement still greater. There
+was a fierce rush to the counter. The clerks worked hard, and paid out
+what they could in spite of the hints and even the threats of Potts,
+till at length the bank clock struck the hour of three. It had been put
+forward twenty minutes, and there was a great riot among the people on
+that account, but they could not do any thing. The bank was closed for
+the day, and they had to depart.
+
+Both Potts and Clark now waited eagerly for the return of John. He
+was expected before the next day. He ought to be in by midnight. After
+waiting impatiently for hours they at length drove out to see if they
+could find him.
+
+About twelve miles from Brandon they met him at midnight with a team of
+horses and a number of men, all of whom were armed.
+
+"Have you got it?"
+
+"Yes," said John, "what there is of it."
+
+"What do you mean by that?"
+
+"I'm too tired to explain. Wait till we get home."
+
+It was four o'clock in the morning before they reached the bank. The
+gold was taken out and deposited in the vaults, and the three went up to
+the Hall. They brought out brandy and refreshed themselves, after which
+John remarked, in his usual laconic style,
+
+"You've been and gone and done it."
+
+"What?" asked Potts, somewhat puzzled.
+
+"With your speculations in stocks."
+
+"What about them?"
+
+"Nothing," said John, "only they happen to be at a small discount."
+
+"A discount?"
+
+"Slightly."
+
+Potts was silent.
+
+"How much?" asked Clark.
+
+"I have a statement here," said John. "When I got to London, I saw the
+broker. He said that American stocks, particularly those which I held,
+had undergone a great depreciation. He assured me that it was only
+temporary, that the dividends which these stocks paid were enough to
+raise them in a short time, perhaps in a few weeks, and that it was
+madness to sell out now. He declared that it would ruin the credit of
+the Brandon Bank if it were known that we sold out at such a fearful
+sacrifice, and advised me to raise the money at a less cost.
+
+"Well, I could only think of Smithers & Co. I went to their office. They
+were all away. I saw one of the clerks who said they had gone to see
+about some Russian loan or other, so there was nothing to do but to
+go back to the broker. He assured me again that it was an unheard of
+sacrifice; that these very stocks which I held had fallen terribly, he
+knew not how, and advised me to do any thing rather than make such a
+sacrifice. But I could do nothing. Gold was what I wanted, and since
+Smithers & Co. were away this was the only way to get it."
+
+"Well!" cried Potts, eagerly. "Did you get it?"
+
+"You saw that I got it. I sold out at a cost that is next to ruin."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Well," said John, "I will give you the statement of the broker," and he
+drew from his pocket a paper which he handed to the others. They looked
+at it eagerly.
+
+It was as follows:
+
+  100 shares California @ L1000 each.  65 per
+      cent, discount........................L35,000
+   50 shares Mexican. 75 per cent, discount  12,500
+   50 shares Guatemala.  80 per cent, dis-
+      count ................................ 10,000
+   50 shares Venezuela. 80 per cent discount 10,000
+                                            -------
+                                            L67,000
+
+The faces of Potts and Clark grew black as night as they read this. A
+deep execration burst from Potts. Clark leaned back in his chair.
+
+"The bank's blown up!" said he.
+
+"No, it ain't," rejoined Potts.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"There's gold enough to pay all that's likely to be offered."
+
+"How much more do you think will be offered?"
+
+"Not much; it stands to reason."
+
+"It stands to reason that every note which you've issued will be sent
+back to you. So I'll trouble you to give me my sixty thousand; and I
+advise you as a friend to hold on to the rest."
+
+"Clark!" said Potts, "you're getting timider and timider. You ain't got
+any more pluck these times than a kitten."
+
+"It's a time when a man's got to be careful of his earnings," said
+Clark. "How much have you out in notes? You told me once you had out
+about L180,000, perhaps more. Well, you've already had to redeem about
+L75,000. That leaves L105,000 yet, and you've only got L67,000 to pay it
+with. What have you got to say to that?"
+
+"Well!" said Potts. "The Brandon Bank may go--but what then? You forget
+that I have the Brandon estate. That's worth two millions."
+
+"You got it for two hundred thousand."
+
+"Because it was thrown away, and dropped into my hands."
+
+"It'll be thrown away again at this rate. You owe Smithers & Co."
+
+"Pooh! that's all offset by securities which I hold."
+
+"Queer securities!"
+
+"All good," said Potts. "All first-rate. It'll be all right. We'll have
+to put it through."
+
+"But what if it isn't all right?" asked Clark, savagely.
+
+"You forget that I have Smithers & Co. to fall back on."
+
+"If your bank breaks, there is an end of Smithers & Co."
+
+"Oh no. I've got this estate to fall back on, and they know it. I can
+easily explain to them. If they had only been in town I shouldn't have
+had to make this sacrifice. You needn't feel troubled about your money.
+I'll give you security on the estate to any amount. I'll give you
+security for seventy thousand," said Potts.
+
+Clark thought for a while.
+
+"Well!" said he, "it's a risk, but I'll run it"
+
+"There isn't time to get a lawyer now to make out the papers; but
+whenever you fetch one I'll do it."
+
+"I'll get one to-day, and you'll sign the papers this evening. In my
+opinion by that time the bank'll be shut up for good, and you're a fool
+for your pains. You're simply throwing away what gold you have."
+
+Potts went down not long after. It was the fourth day of the run.
+Miscellaneous callers thronged the place, but the amounts were not
+large. In two hours not more than five thousand were paid out.
+
+At length a man came in with a carpet-bag. He pulled out a vast quantity
+of notes.
+
+"How much?" asked the clerk, blandly.
+
+"Thirty thousand pounds," said the man.
+
+Potts heard this and came out.
+
+"How much?" he asked.
+
+"Thirty thousand pounds."
+
+"Do you want it in gold?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+"Will you take a draft on Messrs. Smithers & Co.?"
+
+"No, I want gold."
+
+While Potts was talking to this man another was waiting patiently beside
+him. Of course this imperative claimant had to be paid or else the bank
+would have to stop, and this was a casualty which Potts could not yet
+face with calmness. Before it came to that he was determined to pay out
+his last sovereign.
+
+On paying the thirty thousand pounds it was found that there were only
+two bags left of two thousand pounds each.
+
+The other man who had waited stood calmly, while the one who had been
+paid was making arrangements about conveying his money away.
+
+It was now two o'clock. The stranger said quietly to the clerk opposite
+that he wanted gold.
+
+"How much?" said the clerk, with the same blandness.
+
+"Forty thousand pounds," answered the stranger.
+
+"Sorry we can't accommodate you, Sir," returned the clerk.
+
+Potts had heard this and came forward.
+
+"Won't you take a draft on London?" said he.
+
+"Can't," replied the man; "I was ordered to get gold."
+
+"A draft on Smithers & Co.?"
+
+"Couldn't take even Bank of England notes," said the stranger; "I'm only
+an agent. If you can't accommodate me I'm sorry, I'm sure."
+
+Potts was silent. His face was ghastly. As much agony as such a man
+could endure was felt by him at that moment.
+
+Half an hour afterward the shutters were up; and outside the door stood
+a wild and riotous crowd, the most noisy of whom was the tailor.
+
+The Brandon Bank had failed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER L.
+
+
+THE BANK DIRECTORS.
+
+The bank doors were closed, and the bank directors were left to their
+own refections. Clark had been in through the day, and at the critical
+moment his feelings had overpowered him so much that he felt compelled
+to go over to the inn to get something to drink, wherewith he might
+refresh himself and keep up his spirits.
+
+Potts and John remained in the bank parlor. The clerks had gone. Potts
+was in that state of dejection in which even liquor was not desirable.
+John showed his usual nonchalance.
+
+"Well, Johnnie," said Potts, after a long silence, "we're used up!"
+
+"The bank's bursted, that's a fact. You were a fool for fighting it out
+so long."
+
+"I might as well. I was responsible, at any rate."
+
+"You might have kept your gold."
+
+"Then my estate would have been good. Besides, I hoped to fight through
+this difficulty. In fact, I hadn't any thing else to do."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Smithers & Co,"
+
+"Ah! yes."
+
+"They'll be down on me now. That's what I was afraid of all along."
+
+"How much do you owe them?"
+
+"Seven hundred and two thousand pounds."
+
+"The devil! I thought it was only five hundred thousand."
+
+"It's been growing every day. Its a dreadful dangerous thing to have
+unlimited credit."
+
+"Well, you've got something as an offset. The debts due the bank."
+
+"Johnnie," said Potts, taking a long breath, "since Clark isn't here I
+don't mind telling you that my candid opinion is them debts isn't worth
+a rush. A great crowd of people came here for money. I didn't hardly ask
+a question. I shelled out royally. I wanted to be known, so as to get
+into Parliament some day. I did what is called 'going it blind.'"
+
+"How much is owing you?"
+
+"The books say five hundred and thirteen thousand pounds--but it's
+doubtful if I can get any of it. And now Smithers & Co. will be down on
+me at once."
+
+"What do you intend to do?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Haven't you thought?"
+
+"No, I couldn't."
+
+"Well, I have."
+
+"What?"
+
+"You'll have to try to compromise."
+
+"What if they won't?"
+
+John shrugged his shoulders, and said nothing.
+
+"After all," resumed Potts, hopefully, "it can't be so bad. The estate
+is worth two millions."
+
+"Pooh!"
+
+"Isn't it?"
+
+"Of course not. You know what you bought it for."
+
+"That's because it was thrown away."
+
+"Well, it'll have to be thrown away again."
+
+"Oh, Smithers & Co.'ll be easy. They don't care for money."
+
+"Perhaps so. The fact is, I don't understand Smithers & Co. at all. I've
+tried to see through their little game, but can't begin to do it."
+
+"Oh, that's easy enough! They knew I was rich, and let me have what
+money I wanted."
+
+John looked doubtful.
+
+At this moment a rap was heard at the back door.
+
+"There comes Clark!" said he.
+
+Potts opened the door. Clark entered. His face was flushed, and his eyes
+bloodshot.
+
+"See here," said he, mysteriously, as he entered the room.
+
+"What?" asked the others, anxiously.
+
+"There's two chaps at the inn. One is the Italian--"
+
+"Langhetti!"
+
+"Ay," said Clark, gloomily; "and the other is his mate--that fellow that
+helped him to carry off the gal. They've done it again this time, and my
+opinion is that these fellows are at the bottom of all our troubles. You
+know _whose son he is_."
+
+Potts and John exchanged glances.
+
+"I went after that devil once, and I'm going to try it again. This time
+I'll take some one who isn't afraid of the devil. Johnnie, is the dog at
+the Hall?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"All right!" said Clark. "I'll be even with this fellow yet, if he is in
+league with the devil."
+
+With these words Clark went out, and left the two together. A glance of
+savage exultation passed over the face of Potts.
+
+"If he comes back successful," said he, "all right, and if he doesn't,
+why then"--He paused.
+
+"If he doesn't come back," said John, finishing the sentence for him,
+"why then--all righter."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LI.
+
+
+A STRUGGLE.
+
+All the irresolution which for a time had characterized Despard had
+vanished before the shock of that great discovery which his father's
+manuscript had revealed to him. One purpose now lay clearly and vividly
+before him, one which to so loyal and devoted a nature as his was the
+holiest duty, and that was vengeance on his father's murderers.
+
+In this purpose he took refuge from his own grief; he cast aside his own
+longings, his anguish, his despair. Langhetti wished to search after his
+"Bice;" Despard wished to find those whom his dead father had denounced
+to him. In the intensity of his purpose he was careless as to the means
+by which that vengeance should be accomplished. He thought not whether
+it would be better to trust to the slow action of the law, or to take
+the task into his own hands. His only wish was to be confronted with
+either of these men, or both of them.
+
+It was with this feeling in his heart that he set out with Langhetti,
+and the two went once more in company to the village of Brandon, where
+they arrived on the first day of the "run on the bank."
+
+He did not know exactly what it would be best to do first. His one idea
+was to go to the Hall, and confront the murderers in their own place.
+Langhetti, however, urged the need of help from the civil magistrate. It
+was while they were deliberating about this that a letter was brought in
+addressed to the _Rev. Courtenay Despard_.
+
+Despard did not recognize the handwriting. In some surprise how any one
+should know that was here he opened the letter, and his surprise was
+still greater as he read the following:
+
+"SIR,--There are two men here whom you seek--one Potts, the other Clark.
+You can see them both at any time.
+
+"The young lady whom you and Signor Langhetti formerly rescued has
+escaped, and is now in safety at Denton, a village not more than twenty
+miles away. She lives in the last cottage on the left-hand side of the
+road, close by the sea. There is an American elm in front."
+
+There was no signature.
+
+Despard handed it in silence to Langhetti, who read it eagerly. Joy
+spread over his face. He started to his feet.
+
+"I must go at once," said he, excitedly. "Will you?"
+
+"No," replied Despard. "You had better go. I must stay; my purpose is a
+different one."
+
+"But do not you also wish to secure the safety of Bice?"
+
+"Of course; but I shall not be needed. You will be enough."
+
+Langhetti tried to persuade him, but Despard was immovable. For himself
+he was too impatient to wait. He determined to set out at once. He could
+not get a carriage, but he managed to obtain a horse, and with this he
+set out. It was about the time when the bank had closed.
+
+Just before his departure Despard saw a man come from the bank and enter
+the inn. He knew the face, for he had seen it when here before. It was
+Clark. At the sight of this face all his fiercest instinct awoke within
+him--a deep thirst for vengeance arose. He could not lose sight of
+this man. He determined to track him, and thus by active pursuit to do
+something toward the accomplishment of his purpose.
+
+He watched him, therefore, as he entered the inn, and caught a hasty
+glance which Clark directed at himself and Langhetti. He did not
+understand the meaning of the scowl that passed over the ruffian's face,
+nor did Clark understand the full meaning of that gloomy frown which
+lowered over Despard's brow as his eyes blazed wrathfully and menacingly
+upon him.
+
+[Illustration: "THE NEXT INSTANT DESPARD HAD SEIZED HIS THROAT AND HELD
+HIM SO THAT HE COULD NOT MOVE."]
+
+Clark came out and went to the bank. On quitting the bank Despard saw
+him looking back at Langhetti, who was just leaving. He then watched him
+till he went up to the Hall.
+
+In about half an hour Clark came back on horseback followed by a dog. He
+talked for a while with the landlord, and then went off at a slow trot.
+
+On questioning the landlord Despard found that Clark had asked him about
+the direction which Langhetti had taken. The idea at once flashed upon
+him that possibly Clark wished to pursue Langhetti, in order to find out
+about Beatrice. He determine on pursuit, both for Langhetti's sake and
+his own.
+
+He followed, therefore, not far behind Clark, riding at first rapidly
+till he caught sight of him at the summit of a hill in front, and then
+keeping at about the same distance behind him. He had not determined
+in his mind what it was best to do, but held himself prepared for any
+course of action.
+
+After riding about an hour he put spurs to his horse, and went on at
+a more rapid pace. Yet he did not overtake Clark, and therefore
+conjectured that Clark himself must have gone on more rapidly. He now
+put his own horse at its fullest speed, with the intention of coming up
+with his enemy as soon as possible.
+
+He rode on at a tremendous pace for another half hour. At last the road
+took a sudden turn; and, whirling around here at the utmost speed, he
+burst upon a scene which was as startling as it was unexpected, and
+which roused to madness all the fervid passion of his nature.
+
+The road here descended, and in its descent wound round a hill and
+led into a gentle hollow, on each side of which hills arose which were
+covered with trees.
+
+Within this glen was disclosed a frightful spectacle. A man lay on the
+ground, torn from his horse by a huge blood-hound, which even then
+was rending him with its huge fangs! The dismounted rider's foot was
+entangled in the stirrups, and the horse was plunging and dragging him
+along, while the dog was pulling him back. The man himself uttered not a
+cry, but tried to fight off the dog with his hands as best he could.
+
+In the horror of the moment Despard saw that it was Langhetti. For
+an instant his brain reeled. The next moment he had reached the spot.
+Another horseman was standing close by, without pretending even to
+interfere. Despard did not see him; he saw nothing but Langhetti. He
+flung himself from his horse, and drew a revolver from his pocket. A
+loud report rang through the air, and in an instant the huge blood-hound
+gave a leap upward, with a piercing yell, and fell dead in the road.
+
+Despard flung himself on his knees beside Langhetti. He saw his hands
+torn and bleeding, and blood covering his face and breast. A low groan
+was all that escaped from the sufferer.
+
+"Leave me," he gasped. "Save Bice."
+
+In his grief for Langhetti, thus lying before him in such agony, Despard
+forgot all else. He seized his handkerchief and tried to stanch the
+blood.
+
+"Leave me!" gasped Langhetti again. "Bice will be lost." His head, which
+Despard had supported for a moment, sank back, and life seemed to leave
+him.
+
+Despard started up. Now for the first time he recollected the stranger;
+and in an instant understood who he was, and why this had been done.
+Suddenly, as he started up, he felt his pistol snatched from his hand by
+a strong grasp. He turned.
+
+It was the horseman--it was Clark--who had stealthily dismounted, and,
+in his desperate purpose, had tried to make sure of Despard.
+
+But Despard, quick as thought, leaped upon him, and caught his hand. In
+the struggle the pistol fell to the ground. Despard caught Clark in his
+arms, and then the contest began.
+
+Clark was of medium size, thick-set, muscular, robust, and desperate.
+Despard was tall, but his frame was well knit, his muscles and sinews
+were like iron, and he was inspired by a higher Spirit and a deeper
+passion.
+
+In the first shock of that fierce embrace not a word was spoken. For
+some time the struggle was maintained without result. Clark had caught
+Despard at a disadvantage, and this for a time prevented the latter from
+putting forth his strength effectually.
+
+At last he wound one arm around Clark's neck in a strangling grasp, and
+forced his other arm under that of Clark. Then with one tremendous, one
+resistless impulse, he put forth all his strength. His antagonist gave
+way before it. He reeled.
+
+Despard disengaged one arm and dealt him a tremendous blow on the
+temple. At the same instant he twined his legs about those of the other.
+At the stroke Clark, who had already staggered, gave way utterly and
+fell heavily backward, with Despard upon him.
+
+The next instant Despard had seized his throat and held him down so that
+he could not move.
+
+The wretch gasped and groaned. He struggled to escape from that iron
+hold in vain. The hand which had seized him was not to be shaken off.
+Despard had fixed his grasp there, and there in the throat of the
+fainting, suffocating wretch he held it.
+
+The struggles grew fainter, the arms relaxed, the face blackened, the
+limbs stiffened. At last all efforts ceased.
+
+Despard then arose, and, turning Clark over on his face, took the bridle
+from one of the horses, bound his hands behind him, and fastened his
+feet securely. In the fierce struggle Clark's coat and waistcoat had
+been torn away, and slipped down to some extent. His shirt-collar had
+burst and slipped with them. As Despard turned him over and proceeded to
+tie him, something struck his eye. It was a bright, red scar.
+
+He pulled down the shirt. A mark appeared, the full meaning of which
+he knew not, but could well conjecture. There were three brands--fiery
+red--and these were the marks:
+
+[Illustration: ^ /|\ [three lines, forming short arrow]
+
+
+ R [sans-serif R]
+
+
+ + [plus sign] ]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LII.
+
+
+FACE TO FACE.
+
+On the same evening Potts left the bank at about five o'clock, and went
+up to the Hall with John. He was morose, gloomy, and abstracted. The
+great question now before him was how to deal with Smithers & Co. Should
+he write to them, or go and see them, or what? How could he satisfy
+their claims, which he knew would now be presented? Involved in thoughts
+like these, he entered the Hall, and, followed by John, went to the
+dining-room, where father and son sat down to refresh themselves over a
+bottle of brandy.
+
+They had not been seated half an hour before the noise of
+carriage-wheels was heard; and on looking out they saw a dog-cart drawn
+by two magnificent horses, which drove swiftly up to the portico. A
+gentleman dismounted, and, throwing the reins to his servant, came up
+the steps.
+
+The stranger was of medium size, with an aristocratic air, remarkably
+regular features, of pure Grecian outline, and deep, black, lustrous
+eyes. His brow was dark and stern, and clouded over by a gloomy frown.
+
+"Who the devil is he?" cried Potts. "D--n that porter! I told him to let
+no one in to-day."
+
+"I believe the porter's playing fast and loose with us. But, by Jove! do
+you see that fellow's eyes? Do you know who else has such eyes?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Old Smithers."
+
+"Smithers!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then this is young Smithers?"
+
+"Yes; or else the devil," said John, harshly. "I begin to have an idea,"
+he continued. "I've been thinking about this for some time."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Old Smithers had these eyes. That last chap that drew the forty
+thousand out of you kept his eyes covered. Here comes this fellow with
+the same eyes. I begin to trace a connection between them."
+
+"Pooh! Old Smithers is old enough to be this man's grandfather."
+
+"Did you ever happen to notice that old Smithers hadn't a wrinkle in his
+face?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Oh, nothing--only his hair mightn't have been natural; that's all."
+
+Potts and John exchanged glances, and nothing was said for some time.
+
+"Perhaps this Smithers & Son have been at the bottom of all this,"
+continued John. "They are the only ones who could have been strong
+enough."
+
+"But why should they?"
+
+John shook his head.
+
+"Despard or Langhetti may have got them to do it. Perhaps that
+d----d girl did it. Smithers & Co. will make money enough out of the
+speculation to pay them. As for me and you, I begin to have a general
+but very accurate idea of ruin. You are getting squeezed pretty close up
+to the wall, dad, and they won't give you time to breathe."
+
+Before this conversation had ended the stranger had entered, and had
+gone up to the drawing-room. The servant came down to announce him.
+
+"What name?" asked Potts.
+
+"He didn't give any."
+
+Potts looked perplexed.
+
+"Come now," said John. "This fellow has overreached himself at last.
+He's come here; perhaps it won't be so easy for him to get out. I'll
+have all the servants ready. Do you keep up your spirits. Don't get
+frightened, but be plucky. Bluff him, and when the time comes ring
+the bell, and I'll march in with all the servants." Potts looked for a
+moment at his son with a glance of deep admiration.
+
+"Johnnie,--you've got more sense in your little finger than I have in my
+whole body. Yes: we've got this fellow, whoever he is; and if he turns
+out to be what I suspect, then we'll spring the trap on him, and he'll
+learn what it is to play with edge tools."
+
+With these words Potts departed, and, ascending the stairs, entered the
+drawing-room.
+
+The stranger was standing looking out of one of the windows. His
+attitude brought back to Potts's recollection the scene which had once
+occurred there, when old Smithers was holding Beatrice in his arms. The
+recollection of this threw a flood of light on Potts's mind. He recalled
+it with a savage exaltation. Perhaps they were the same, as John
+said--perhaps; no, most assuredly they must be the same.
+
+"I've got him now, any way," murmured Potts to himself, "whoever he is."
+
+The stranger turned and looked at Potts for a few moments. He neither
+bowed nor uttered any salutation whatever. In his look there was a
+certain terrific menace, an indefinable glance of conscious power,
+combined with implacable hate. The frown which usually rested on his
+brow darkened and deepened till the gloomy shadows that covered them
+seemed like thunder-clouds.
+
+Before that awful look Potts felt himself cowering involuntarily; and he
+began to feel less confidence in his own power, and less sure that
+the stranger had flung himself into a trap. However, the silence was
+embarrassing; so at last, with an effort, he said:
+
+"Well; is there any thing you want of me? I'm in a hurry."
+
+"Yes," said the stranger, "I reached the village to-day to call at the
+bank, but found it closed."
+
+"Oh! I suppose you've got a draft on me, too."
+
+"Yes," said the stranger, mysteriously. "I suppose I may call it a
+draft."
+
+"There's no use in troubling your head about it, then," returned Potts;
+"I won't pay."
+
+"You won't?"
+
+"Not a penny."
+
+A sharp, sudden smile of contempt flashed over the stranger's face.
+
+"Perhaps if you knew what the draft is, you would feel differently."
+
+"I don't care what it is."
+
+"That depends upon the drawer."
+
+"I don't care who the drawer is. I won't pay it. I don't care even if
+it's Smithers & Co. I'll settle all when I'm ready. I'm not going to be
+bullied any longer. I've borne enough. You needn't look so very grand,"
+he continued, pettishly; "I see through you, and you can't keep up this
+sort of thing much longer."
+
+"You appear to hint that you know who I am?"
+
+"Something of that sort," said Potts, rudely; "and let me tell you I
+don't care who you are."
+
+"That depends," rejoined the other, calmly, "very much upon
+circumstances."
+
+"So you see," continued Potts, "you won't get any thing out of me--not
+this time," he added.
+
+"My draft," said the stranger, "is different from those which were
+presented at the bank counter."
+
+He spoke in a tone of deep solemnity, with a tone which seemed like the
+tread of some inevitable Fate advancing upon its victim. Potts felt an
+indefinable fear stealing over him in spite of himself. He said not a
+word.
+
+"My draft," continued the stranger, in a tone which was still more
+aggressive in its dominant and self-assertive power--"my draft was drawn
+twenty years ago."
+
+Potts looked wonderingly and half fearfully at him.
+
+"My draft," said the other, "was drawn by Colonel Lionel Despard."
+
+A chill went to the heart of Potts. With a violent effort he shook off
+his fear.
+
+"Pooh!" said he, "you're at that old story, are you? That nonsense won't
+do here."
+
+"It was dated at sea," continued the stranger, in tones which still
+deepened in awful emphasis--"at sea, when the writer was all alone."
+
+"It's a lie!" cried Potts, while his face grew white.
+
+"At sea," continued the other, ringing the changes on this one word, "at
+sea--on board that ship to which you had brought him--the _Vishnu_!"
+
+Potts was like a man fascinated by some horrid spectacle. He looked
+fixedly at his interlocutor. His jaw fell.
+
+"There he died," said the stranger. "Who caused his death? Will you
+answer?"
+
+With a tremendous effort Potts again recovered command of himself.
+
+"You--you've been reading up old papers," replied he, in a stammering
+voice. "You've got a lot of stuff in your head which you think will
+frighten me. You've come to the wrong shop."
+
+But in spite of these words the pale face and nervous manner of Potts
+showed how deep was his agitation.
+
+"I myself was on board the _Vishnu_," said the other.
+
+"You!"
+
+"Yes, I."
+
+"You! Then you must have been precious small. The _Vishnu_ went down
+twenty years ago."
+
+"I was on board of the _Vishnu_, and I saw Colonel Despard."
+
+The memory of some awful scene seemed to inspire the tones of the
+speaker--they thrilled through the coarse, brutal nature of the
+listener.
+
+"I saw Colonel Despard," continued the stranger.
+
+"You lie!" cried Potts, roused by terror and horror to a fierce pitch of
+excitement.
+
+"I saw Colonel Despard," repeated the stranger, for the third time, "on
+board the _Vishnu_ in the Indian Sea. I learned from him his story--"
+
+He paused.
+
+"Then," cried Potts quickly, to whom there suddenly came an idea which
+brought courage with it; "then, if you saw him, what concern is it of
+mine? He was alive, then, and the Despard murder never took place."
+
+"It did take place," said the other.
+
+"You're talking nonsense. How could it if you saw him? He must have been
+alive."
+
+_"He was dead!"_ replied the stranger, whose eyes had never withdrawn
+themselves from those of Potts, and now seemed like two fiery orbs
+blazing wrathfully upon him. The tones penetrated to the very soul
+of the listener. He shuddered in spite of himself. Like most vulgar
+natures, his was accessible to superstitious horror. He heard and
+trembled.
+
+"He was dead," repeated the stranger, "and yet all that I told you is
+true. I learned from him his story."
+
+"Dead men tell no tales," muttered Potts, in a scarce articulate voice.
+
+"So you thought when you locked him in, and set fire to the ship, and
+scuttled her; but you see you were mistaken, for here at least was a
+dead man who did tell tales, and I was the listener."
+
+And the mystic solemnity of the man's face seemed to mark him as one who
+might indeed have held commune with the dead.
+
+"He told me," continued the stranger, "where he found you, and how."
+
+Awful expectation was manifest on the face of Potts.
+
+"He told me of the mark on your arm. Draw up your sleeve, Briggs, Potts,
+or whatever other name you choose, and show the indelible characters
+which represent the name of _Bowhani_."
+
+Potts started back. His lips grew ashen. His teeth chattered.
+
+"He gave me this," cried the stranger, in a louder voice; "and this is
+the draft which you will not reject."
+
+He strode forward three or four paces, and flung something toward Potts.
+
+It was a cord, at the end of which was a metallic ball. The ball struck
+the table as it fell, and rolled to the floor, but the stranger held the
+other end in his hand.
+
+"THUG!" cried he; "do you know what that is?"
+
+Had the stranger been Olympian Jove, and had he flung forth from his
+right hand a thunder-bolt, it could not have produced a more appalling
+effect than that which was wrought upon Potts by the sight of this cord.
+He started back in horror, uttering a cry half-way between a scream and
+a groan. Big drops of perspiration started from his brow. He trembled
+and shuddered from head to foot. His jaw fell. He stood speechless.
+
+"That is my draft," said the stranger.
+
+"What do you want?" gasped Potts.
+
+"The title deeds of the Brandon estates!"
+
+"The Brandon estates!" said Potts, in a faltering voice.
+
+"Yes, the Brandon estates; nothing less."
+
+"And will you then keep silent?"
+
+"I will give you the cord."
+
+"Will you keep silent?"
+
+"I am your master," said the other, haughtily, as his burning eyes fixed
+themselves with a consuming gaze upon the abject wretch before him;
+"I am your master. I make no promises. I spare you or destroy you as I
+choose."
+
+These words reduced Potts to despair. In the depths of that despair
+he found hope. He started up, defiant. With an oath he sprang to the
+bell-rope and pulled again and again, till the peals reverberated
+through the house.
+
+The stranger stood with a scornful smile on his face. Potts turned to
+him savagely:
+
+"I'll teach you," he cried, "that you've come to the wrong shop. I'm not
+a child. Who you are I don't know and I don't care. You are the cause of
+my ruin, and you'll repent of it."
+
+[Illustration: "THUG! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT IS?"]
+
+The stranger said nothing, but stood with the same fixed and scornful
+smile. A noise was heard outside, the tramp of a crowd of men. They
+ascended the stairs. At last John appeared at the door of the room,
+followed by thirty servants. Prominent among these was Asgeelo. Near him
+was Vijal. Potts gave a triumphant smile. The servants ranged themselves
+around the room.
+
+"Now," cried Potts, "you're in for it. You're in a trap, I think. You'll
+find that I'm not a born idiot. Give up that cord!"
+
+The stranger said nothing, but wound up the cord coolly, placed it in
+his pocket, and still regarded Potts with his scornful smile.
+
+"Here!" cried Potts, addressing the servants. "Catch that man, and tie
+his hands and feet."
+
+The servants had taken their station around the room at John's order.
+As Potts spoke they stood there looking at the stranger, but not one of
+them moved. Vijal only started forward. The stranger turned toward him
+and looked in his face.
+
+Vijal glanced around in surprise, waiting for the other servants.
+
+"You devils!" cried Potts, "do you hear what I say? Seize that man!"
+
+None of the servants moved.
+
+"It's my belief," said John, "that they're all ratting."
+
+"Vijal!" cried Potts, savagely, "tackle him."
+
+Vijal rushed forward. At that instant Asgeelo bounded forward also with
+one tremendous leap, and seizing Vijal by the throat hurled him to the
+floor.
+
+The stranger waved his hand.
+
+"Let him go!" said he.
+
+Asgeelo obeyed.
+
+"What the devil's the meaning of this?" cried John, looking around in
+dismay. Potts also looked around. There stood the servants--motionless,
+impassive.
+
+"For the last time," roared Potts, with a perfect volley of oaths,
+"seize that man, or you'll be sorry for it."
+
+The servants stood motionless. The stranger remained in the same
+attitude with the same sneering smile.
+
+"You see," said he, at last, "that you don't know me, after all. You are
+in my power, Briggs--you can't get away, nor can your son."
+
+Potts rushed, with an oath, to the door. Half a dozen servants were
+standing there. As he came furiously toward them they held out their
+clenched fists. He rushed upon them. They beat him back. He fell,
+foaming at the lips.
+
+John stood, cool and unmoved, looking around the room, and learning from
+the face of each servant that they were all beyond his authority. He
+folded his arms, and said nothing.
+
+"You appear to have been mistaken in your man," said the stranger,
+coolly. "These are not your servants; they're mine. Shall I tell them to
+seize you?"
+
+Potts glared at him with bloodshot eyes, but said nothing.
+
+"Shall I tell them to pull up your sleeve and display the mark of
+Bowhani, Sir? Shall I tell who and what you are? Shall I begin from your
+birth and give them a full and complete history of your life?"
+
+Potts looked around like a wild beast in the arena, seeking for some
+opening for escape, but finding nothing except hostile faces.
+
+"Do what you like!" he cried, desperately, with an oath, and sank down
+into stolid despair.
+
+"No; you don't mean that," said the other. "For I have some London
+policemen at the inn, and I might like best to hand you over to them
+on charges which you can easily imagine. You don't wish me to do so,
+I think. You'd prefer being at large to being chained up in a cell, or
+sent to Botany Bay, I suppose? Still, if you prefer it, I will at once
+arrange an interview between yourself and these gentlemen."
+
+"What do you want?" anxiously asked Potts, who now thought that he might
+come to terms, and perhaps gain his escape from the clutches of his
+enemy.
+
+"The title deeds of the Brandon estate," said the stranger.
+
+"Never!"
+
+"Then off you go. They must be mine, at any rate. Nothing can prevent
+that. Either give them now and begone, or delay, and you go at once to
+jail."
+
+"I won't give them," said Potts, desperately.
+
+"Cato!" said the stranger, "go and fetch the policemen."
+
+"Stop!" cried John.
+
+At a sign Asgeelo, who had already taken two steps toward the door,
+paused.
+
+"Here, dad," said John, "you've got to do it. You might as well hand
+over the papers. You don't want to get into quod, I think."
+
+Potts turned his pale face to his son.
+
+"Do it!" exclaimed John.
+
+"Well," he said, with a sigh, "since I've got to, I've got to, I
+suppose. You know best, Johnnie. I always said you had a long head."
+
+"I must go and get them," he continued.
+
+"I'll go with you; or no--Cato shall go with you, and I'll wait here."
+
+The Hindu went with Potts, holding his collar in his powerful grasp, and
+taking care to let Potts see the hilt of a knife which he carried up his
+sleeve, in the other hand.
+
+After about a quarter of an hour they returned, and Potts handed over to
+the stranger some papers. He looked at them carefully, and put them in
+his pocket. He then gave Potts the cord. Potts took it in an abstracted
+way, and said nothing.
+
+"You must leave this Hall to-night," said the stranger, sternly--"you
+and your son. I remain here."
+
+"Leave the Hall?" gasped Potts.
+
+"Yes."
+
+For a moment he stood overwhelmed. He looked at John. John nodded his
+head slowly.
+
+"You've got to do it, dad," said he.
+
+Potts turned savagely at the stranger. He shook his clenched fist at
+him.
+
+"D--n you!" he cried. "Are you satisfied yet? I know you. I'll pay you
+up. What complaint have you against me, I'd like to know? I never harmed
+you."
+
+"You don't know me, or you wouldn't say that."
+
+"I do. You're Smithers & Co."
+
+"True; and I'm several other people. I've had the pleasure of an
+extended intercourse with you. For I'm not only Smithers & Co., but
+I'm also Beamish & Hendricks, American merchants. I'm also Bigelow,
+Higginson, & Co., solicitors to Smithers & Co. Besides, I'm your London
+broker, who attended to your speculations in stocks. Perhaps you think
+that you don't know me after all."
+
+As he said this Potts and John exchanged glances of wonder.
+
+"Tricked!" cried Potts--"deceived! humbugged! and ruined! Who are you?
+What have you against me? Who are you? Who?"
+
+And he gazed with intense curiosity upon the calm face of the stranger,
+who, in his turn, looked upon him with the air of one who was surveying
+from a superior height some feeble creature far beneath him.
+
+"Who am I?" he repeated. "Who? I am the one to whom all this belongs. I
+am one whom you have injured so deeply, that what I have done to you is
+nothing in comparison."
+
+"Who are you?" cried Potts, with feverish impatience. "It's a lie. I
+never injured you. I never saw you before till you came yourself to
+trouble me. Those whom I have injured are all dead, except that parson,
+the son of--of the officer."
+
+"There are others."
+
+Potts said nothing, but looked with some fearful discovery dawning upon
+him.
+
+"You know me now!" cried the stranger. "I see it in your face."
+
+"You're not _him_!" exclaimed Potts, in a piercing voice.
+
+"I am LOUIS BRANDON!"
+
+"I knew it! I knew it!" cried John, in a voice which was almost a
+shriek.
+
+"Cigole played false. I'll make him pay for this," gasped Potts.
+
+"Cigole did not play false. He killed me as well as he could--But away,
+both of you. I can not breathe while you are here. I will allow you an
+hour to be gone."
+
+At the end of the hour Brandon of Brandon Hall was at last master in the
+home of his ancestors.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIII.
+
+
+THE COTTAGE.
+
+When Despard had bound Clark he returned to look after Langhetti. He lay
+feebly and motionless upon the ground. Despard carefully examined his
+wounds. His injuries were very severe. His arms were lacerated, and his
+shoulder torn; blood also was issuing from a wound on the side of his
+neck. Despard bound these as best he could, and then sat wondering what
+could be done next.
+
+He judged that he might be four or five miles from Denton, and saw that
+this was the place to which he must go. Besides, Beatrice was there,
+and she could nurse Langhetti. But how could he get there?--that was the
+question. It was impossible for Langhetti to go on horseback. He tried
+to form some plan by which this might be done. He began to make a sort
+of litter to be hung between two horses, and had already cut down with
+his knife two small trees or rather bushes for this purpose, when the
+noise of wheels on the road before him attracted his attention.
+
+It was a farmer's wagon, and it was coming from the direction of Denton.
+Despard stopped it, explained his situation, and offered to pay any
+thing if the farmer would turn back and convey his friend and his
+prisoner to Denton. It did not take long to strike a bargain; the farmer
+turned his horses, some soft shrubs and ferns were strewn on the bottom
+of the wagon, and on these Langhetti was deposited carefully. Clark,
+who by this time had come to himself, was put at one end, where he
+sat grimly and sulkily; the three horses were led behind, and Despard,
+riding on the wagon, supported the head of Langhetti on his knees.
+
+Slowly and carefully they went to the village. Despard had no difficulty
+in finding the cottage. It was where the letter had described it. The
+village inn stood near on the opposite side of the road.
+
+It was about nine o'clock in the evening when they reached the cottage.
+Lights were burning in the windows. Despard jumped out hastily and
+knocked. A servant came. Despard asked for the mistress, and Beatrice
+appeared. As she recognized him her face lighted up with joy. But
+Despard's face was sad and gloomy. He pressed her hand in silence and
+said:
+
+"My dear adopted sister, I bring you our beloved Langhetti."
+
+"Langhetti!" she exclaimed, fearfully.
+
+"He has met with an accident. Is there a doctor in the place? Send your
+servant at once."
+
+Beatrice hurried in and returned with a servant.
+
+"We will first lift him out," said Despard. "Is there a bed ready?"
+
+"Oh yes! Bring him in!" cried Beatrice, who was now in an agony of
+suspense.
+
+She hurried after them to the wagon. They lifted Langhetti out and took
+him into a room which Beatrice showed them. They tenderly laid him on
+the bed. Meanwhile the servant had hurried off for a doctor, who soon
+appeared.
+
+Beatrice sat by his bedside; she kissed the brow of the almost
+unconscious sufferer, and tried in every possible way to alleviate his
+pain. The doctor soon arrived, dressed his wounds, and left directions
+for his care, which consisted chiefly in constant watchfulness.
+
+Leaving Langhetti under the charge of Beatrice, Despard went in search
+of a magistrate. He found one without any difficulty, and before an hour
+Clark was safe in jail. The information which Despard lodged against him
+was corroborated by the brands on his back, which showed him to be a man
+of desperate character, who had formerly been transported for crime.
+
+Despard next wrote a letter to Mrs. Thornton. He told her about
+Langhetti, and urged her to come on immediately and bring Edith
+with her. Then he returned to the cottage and wished to sit up with
+Langhetti. Beatrice, however, would not let him. She said that no
+one should deprive her of the place by his bedside. Despard remained,
+however, and the two devoted equal attention to the sufferer. Langhetti
+spoke only once. He was so faint that his voice was scarce audible.
+Beatrice put her ear close to his mouth.
+
+"What is it?" asked Despard.
+
+"He wants Edith," said Beatrice.
+
+"I have written for her," said Despard.
+
+Beatrice whispered this to Langhetti. An ecstatic smile passed over his
+face.
+
+"It is well," he murmured.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIV.
+
+
+THE WORM TURNS.
+
+Potts departed from the Hall in deep dejection. The tremendous power of
+his enemy had been shown all along; and now that this enemy turned out
+to be Louis Brandon, he felt as though some supernatural being had taken
+up arms against him. Against that being a struggle seemed as hopeless as
+it would be against Fate. It was with some such feeling as this that he
+left Brandon Hall forever.
+
+All of his grand projects had broken down, suddenly and utterly. He had
+not a ray of hope left of ever regaining the position which he had but
+recently occupied. He was thrust back to the obscurity from which he had
+emerged.
+
+One thing troubled him. Would the power of his remorseless enemy be now
+stayed--would his vengeance end here? He could scarce hope for this. He
+judged that enemy by himself, and he knew that he would not stop in the
+search after vengeance, that nothing short of the fullest and direst
+ruin--nothing, in fact, short of death itself would satisfy him.
+
+John was with him, and Vijal, who alone out of all the servants had
+followed his fortunes. These three walked down and passed through the
+gates together, and emerged into the outer world in silence. But when
+they had left the gates the silence ended.
+
+"Well, dad!" said John, "what are you going to do now?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Have you any money?"
+
+"Four thousand pounds in the bank."
+
+"Not much, dad," said John, slowly, "for a man who last month was worth
+millions. You're coming out at the little end of the horn."
+
+Potts made no reply.
+
+"At any rate there's one comfort," said John, "even about that."
+
+"What comfort?"
+
+"Why, you went in at the little end."
+
+They walked on in silence.
+
+"You must do something," said John at last.
+
+"What can I do?"
+
+"You won't let that fellow ride the high horse in this style, will you?"
+
+"How can I help it?"
+
+"You can't help it; but you can strike a blow yourself."
+
+"How?"
+
+"How? You've struck blows before to some purpose, I think."
+
+"But I never yet knew any one with such tremendous power as this man
+has. And where did he get all his money? You said before that he was the
+devil, and I believe it. Where's Clark? Do you think he has succeeded?"
+
+"No," said John.
+
+"No more do I. This man has every body in his pay. Look at the servants!
+See how easily he did what he wished!"
+
+"You've got one servant left."
+
+"Ah, yes--that's a fact."
+
+"That servant will do something for you."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Brandon is a man, after all--and can _die_," said John, with deep
+emphasis. "Vijal," he continued, in a whisper, "hates me, but he would
+lay down his life for you."
+
+"I understand," said Potts, after a pause.
+
+A long silence followed.
+
+"You go on to the inn," said Potts, at last. "I'll talk with Vijal."
+
+"Shall I risk the policemen?"
+
+"Yes, you run no risk. I'll sleep in the bank."
+
+"All right," said John, and he walked away.
+
+"Vijal," said Potts, dropping back so as to wait for the Malay. "You are
+faithful to me."
+
+"Yes," answered Vijal.
+
+"All the others betrayed me, but you did not?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"Do you know when you first saw me?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I saved your life."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Your father was seized at Manilla and killed for murder, but I
+protected you, and promised to take care of you. Haven't I done so?"
+
+"Yes," said Vijal humbly, and in a reverent tone.
+
+"Haven't I been another father?"
+
+"You have."
+
+"Didn't I promise to tell you some day who the man was that killed your
+father?"
+
+"Yes," exclaimed Vijal, fiercely.
+
+"Well, I'm going to tell you."
+
+"Who?" cried Vijal, in excitement so strong that he could scarce speak.
+
+"Did you see that man who drove me out of the Hall?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, that was the man. He killed your father. He has ruined me--your
+other father. What do you say to that?"
+
+"He shall die," returned Vijal, solemnly. "He shall die."
+
+"I am an old man," resumed Potts. "If I were as strong as I used to be I
+would not talk about this to you. I would do it all myself."
+
+"I'll do it!" cried Vijal. "I'll do it!"
+
+His eyes flashed, his nostrils dilated--all the savage within him was
+aroused. Potts saw this, and rejoiced.
+
+"Do you know how to use this?" he asked, showing Vijal the cord which
+Brandon had given him.
+
+Vijal's eyes dilated, and a wilder fire shone in them. He seized the
+cord, turned it round his hand for a moment, and then hurled it at
+Potts. It passed round and round his waist.
+
+"Ah!" said Potts, with deep gratification. "You have not forgotten,
+then. You can throw it skillfully."
+
+Vijal nodded, and said nothing.
+
+"Keep the cord. Follow up that man. Avenge your father's death and my
+ruin."
+
+"I will," said Vijal, sternly.
+
+"It may take long. Follow him up. Do not come back to me till you come
+to tell me that he is dead."
+
+Vijal nodded.
+
+"Now I am going. I must fly and hide myself from this man. As long as he
+lives I am in danger. But you will always find John at the inn when you
+wish to see me."
+
+"I will lay down my life for you," said Vijal.
+
+"I don't want your life," returned Potts. "I want _his_."
+
+"You shall have it," exclaimed Vijal.
+
+Potts said no more. He handed Vijal his purse in silence. The latter
+took it without a word. Potts then went toward the bank, and Vijal stood
+alone in the road.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LV.
+
+
+ON THE ROAD.
+
+On the following morning Brandon started from the Hall at an early hour.
+He was on horseback. He rode down through the gates. Passing through the
+village he went by the inn and took the road to Denton.
+
+He had not gone far before another horseman followed him. The latter
+rode at a rapid pace. Brandon did not pay any especial attention to
+him, and at length the latter overtook him. It was when they were nearly
+abreast that Brandon recognized the other. It was Vijal.
+
+"Good-morning," said Vijal.
+
+"Good-morning," replied Brandon.
+
+"Are you going to Denton?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"So am I," said Vijal.
+
+Brandon was purposely courteous, although it was not exactly the thing
+for a gentleman to be thus addressed by a servant. He saw that this
+servant had overreached himself, and knew that he must have some motive
+for joining him and addressing him in so familiar a manner.
+
+He suspected what might be Vijal's aim, and therefore kept a close watch
+on him. He saw that Vijal, while holding the reins in his left hand,
+kept his right hand concealed in his breast. A suspicion darted across
+his mind. He stroked his mustache with his own right hand, which he kept
+constantly upraised, and talked cheerfully and patronizingly with his
+companion. After a while he fell back a little and drew forth a knife,
+which he concealed in his hand, and then he rode forward as before
+abreast of the other, assuming the appearance of perfect calm and
+indifference.
+
+"Have you left Potts?" said Brandon, after a short time.
+
+"No," replied Vijal.
+
+"Ah! Then you are on some business of his now?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Brandon was silent.
+
+"Would you like to know what it is?" asked Vijal.
+
+"Not particularly," said Brandon, coldly.
+
+"Shall I tell you?"
+
+"If you choose."
+
+Vijal raised his hand suddenly and gave a quick, short jerk. A cord flew
+forth--there was a weight at the end. The cord was flung straight at
+Brandon's neck.
+
+But Brandon had been on his guard. At the movement of Vijal's arm he had
+raised his own; the cord passed around him, but his arm was within its
+embrace. In his hand he held a knife concealed. In an instant he slashed
+his knife through the windings of the cord, severing them all; then
+dropping the knife he plunged his hand into the pocket of his coat, and
+before Vijal could recover from his surprise he drew forth a revolver
+and pointed it at him.
+
+[Illustration: VIJAL LOOKED EARNESTLY AT IT. HE SAW THESE WORDS: "JOHN
+POTTS."]
+
+Vijal saw at once that he was lost. He nevertheless plunged his spurs
+into his horse and made a desperate effort to escape. As his horse
+bounded off Brandon fired. The animal gave a wild neigh, which sounded
+almost like a shriek, and fell upon the road, throwing Vijal over his
+head.
+
+In an instant Brandon was up with him. He leaped from his horse before
+Vijal had disencumbered himself from his, and seizing the Malay by the
+collar held the pistol at his head.
+
+"If you move," he cried, sternly, "I'll blow your brains out!"
+
+Vijal lay motionless.
+
+"Scoundrel!" exclaimed Brandon, as he held him with the revolver pressed
+against his head, "who sent you to do this?"
+
+Vijal in sullen silence answered nothing.
+
+"Tell me or I'll kill you. Was it Potts?"
+
+Vijal made no reply.
+
+"Speak out," cried Brandon. "Fool that you are, I don't want _your_
+life."
+
+"You are the murderer of my father," said Vijal, fiercely, "and
+therefore I sought to kill you."
+
+Brandon gave a low laugh.
+
+"The murderer of your father?" he repeated.
+
+"Yes," cried Vijal, wildly; "and I sought your death."
+
+Brandon laughed again.
+
+"Do you know how old I am?"
+
+Vijal looked up in amazement. He saw by that one look what he had not
+thought of before in his excitement, that Brandon was a younger man than
+himself by several years. He was silent.
+
+"How many years is it since your father died?"
+
+Vijal said nothing.
+
+"Fool!" exclaimed Brandon. "It is twenty years. You are false to your
+father. You pretend to avenge his death, and you seek out a young man
+who had no connection with it. I was in England when he was killed. I
+was a child only seven years of age. Do you believe now that I am his
+murderer?"
+
+Brandon, while speaking in this way, had relaxed his hold, though he
+still held his pistol pointed at the head of his prostrate enemy. Vijal
+gave a long, low sigh.
+
+"You were too young," said he, at last. "You are younger than I am. I
+was only twelve."
+
+"I could not have been his murderer, then?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Yet I know who his murderer was, for I have found out."
+
+"Who?"
+
+"The same man who killed my own father."
+
+Vijal looked at Brandon with awful eyes.
+
+"Your father had a brother?" said Brandon.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Do you know his name?"
+
+"Yes. Zangorri."
+
+"Right. Well, do you know what Zangorri did to avenge his brother's
+death?"
+
+"No; what?"
+
+"For many years he vowed death to all Englishmen, since it was an
+Englishman who had caused the death of his brother. He had a ship; he
+got a crew and sailed through the Eastern seas, capturing English ships
+and killing the crews. This was his vengeance." Vijal gave a groan.
+
+"You see he has done more than you. He knew better than you who it was
+that had killed your father."
+
+"Who was it?" cried Vijal, fiercely.
+
+"I saw him twice," continued Brandon, without noticing the question, of
+the other. "I saw him twice, and twice he told me the name of the man
+whose death he sought. For year after year he had sought after that man,
+but had not found him. Hundreds of Englishmen had fallen. He told me the
+name of the man whom he sought, and charged me to carry out his work of
+vengeance. I promised to do so, for I had a work of vengeance of my own
+to perform, and on the same man, too.
+
+"Who was he?" repeated Vijal, with increased excitement.
+
+"When I saw him last he gave me something which he said he had worn
+around his neck for years. I took it, and promised to wear it till the
+vengeance which he sought should be accomplished. I did so for I too had
+a debt of vengeance stronger than his, and on the same man."
+
+"Who was he?" cried Vijal again, with restless impetuosity.
+
+Brandon unbuttoned his vest and drew forth a Malay creese, which was
+hung around his neck and worn under his coat.
+
+"Do you know what this is?" he asked, solemnly.
+
+Vijal took it and looked at it earnestly. His eyes dilated, his nostrils
+quivered.
+
+"My father's!" he cried, in a tremulous voice.
+
+"Can you read English letters?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Can you read the name that is cut upon it?"
+
+And Brandon pointed to a place where some letters were carved.
+
+Vijal looked earnestly at it. He saw these words:
+
+  JOHN POTTS.
+
+"That," said Brandon, "is what your father's brother gave to me."
+
+"It's a lie!" growled Vijal, fiercely.
+
+"It's true," said Brandon, calmly, "and it was carved there by your
+father's own hand."
+
+Vijal said nothing for a long time. Brandon arose, and put his pistol
+in his pocket. Vijal, disencumbering himself from his horse, arose also.
+The two stood together on the road.
+
+For hours they remained there talking. At last Brandon remounted and
+rode on to Denton. But Vijal went back to the village of Brandon. He
+carried with him the creese which Brandon had given him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVI.
+
+
+FATHER AND SON.
+
+Vijal, on going back to Brandon village, went first to the inn where
+he saw John. To the inquiries which were eagerly addressed to him he
+answered nothing, but simply said that he wished to see Potts. John,
+finding him impracticable, cursed him and led the way to the bank.
+
+As Vijal entered Potts locked the door carefully, and then anxiously
+questioned him. Vijal gave a plain account of every thing exactly as it
+had happened, but with some important alterations and omissions. In the
+first place, he said nothing whatever of the long interview which had
+taken place and the startling information which he had received. In the
+second place, he assured Potts that he must have attacked the wrong man.
+For when this man had spared his life he looked at him closely and found
+out that he was not the one that he ought to have attacked.
+
+"You blasted fool," cried Potts. "Haven't you got eyes? D--n you; I wish
+the fellow, whoever he is, had seized you, or blown your brains out."
+
+Vijal cast down his eyes humbly.
+
+"I can try again," said he. "I have made a mistake this time; the next
+time I will make sure."
+
+There was something in the tone of his voice so remorseless and so
+vengeful that Potts felt reassured.
+
+"You are a good lad," said he, "a good lad. And you'll try again?"
+
+"Yes," said Vijal, with flashing eyes.
+
+"You'll make sure this time?"
+
+"I'll make sure this time. But I must have some one with me," he
+continued. "You need not trouble yourself. Send John with me. He won't
+mistake. If he is with me I'll make sure."
+
+As the Malay said this a brighter and more vivid flash shone from
+his eyes. He gave a malevolent smile, and his white teeth glistened
+balefully. Instantly he checked the smile, and cast down his eyes.
+
+"Ah!" said Potts. "That is very good. John shall go. Johnnie, you don't
+mind going, do you?"
+
+"I'll go," said John, languidly.
+
+"You'll know the fellow, won't you?"
+
+"I rather think I should."
+
+"But what will you do first?"
+
+"Go to Denton," said John.
+
+"To Denton?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because Brandon is there."
+
+"How can he be?"
+
+"Simply," said John, "because I know the man that Vijal attacked must
+have been Brandon. No other person answers to the description. No
+other person would be so quick to dodge the cord, and so quick with the
+revolver. He has humbugged Vijal somehow, and this fool of a nigger
+has believed him. He was Brandon, and no one else, and I'm going on his
+track."
+
+"Well--you're right, perhaps," said Potts; "but take care of yourself,
+Johnnie."
+
+John gave a dry smile.
+
+"I'll try to do so and I hope to take care of others also," said he.
+
+"God bless you, Johnnie!" said Potts, affectionately, not knowing the
+blasphemy of invoking the blessing of God on one who was setting out to
+commit murder.
+
+"You're spooney, dad," returned John, and he left the bank with Vijal.
+
+John went back to the inn first, and after a few preparations started
+for Denton. On the way he amused himself with coarse jests at Vijal's
+stupidity in allowing himself to be deceived by Brandon, taunted him
+with cowardice in yielding so easily, and assured him that one who was
+so great a coward could not possibly succeed in any undertaking.
+
+Toward evening they reached the inn at Denton. John was anxious not to
+show himself, so he went at once to the inn, directing Vijal to keep a
+look-out for Brandon and let him know if he saw any one who looked like
+him. These directions were accompanied and intermingled with numerous
+threats as to what he would do if Vijal dared to fail in any particular.
+The Malay listened calmly, showing none of that impatience and haughty
+resentment which he formerly used to manifest toward John, and quietly
+promised to do what was ordered.
+
+About ten o'clock John happened to look on of the window. He saw a
+figure standing where the light from the windows flashed out, which
+at once attracted his attention. It was the man whom he sought--it was
+Brandon. Was he stopping at the same inn? If so, why had not Vijal told
+him? He at once summoned Vijal, who came as calm as ever. To John's
+impatient questions as to why he had not told him about Brandon, he
+answered that Brandon had only come there half an hour previously, and
+that he had been watching him ever since to see what he was going to do.
+
+"You most keep on watching him, then; do you hear?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And if you let him slip this time, you infernal nigger, you'll pay dear
+for it."
+
+"I'll not make a mistake this time," was Vijal's answer. And as he spoke
+his eyes gleamed, and again that baleful smile passed over his face.
+
+"That's the man," said John. "You understand that? That's the man you've
+got to fix, do you hear? Don't be a fool this time. You must manage it
+to-night, for I don't want to wait here forever. I leave it to you. I
+only came to make sure of the man. I'm tired, and I'm going to bed soon.
+When I wake to-morrow I expect to hear from you that you have finished
+this business. If you don't, d--n you, I'll wring your infernal nigger's
+neck."
+
+"It will all be done by to-morrow," said Vijal, calmly.
+
+"Then clear out and leave me. I'm going to bed. What you've got to do is
+to watch that man."
+
+Vijal retired.
+
+The night passed. When the following morning came John was not up at the
+ordinary breakfast hour. Nine o'clock came. Ten o'clock. Still he did
+not appear.
+
+"He's a lazy fellow," said the landlord, "though he don't look like it.
+And where's his servant?"
+
+"The servant went back to Brandon at day-break," was the answer.
+
+Eleven o'clock came. Still there were no signs of John. There was
+a balcony in the inn which ran in front of the windows of the room
+occupied by John. After knocking at the door once or twice the landlord
+tapped at the window and tried to peep in to see if the occupant was
+awake or not. One part, of the blind was drawn a little aside, and
+showed the bed and the form of a man still lying there.
+
+"He's an awful sleeper," said the landlord. "It's twelve o'clock, and he
+isn't up yet. Well, it's his business, not mine."
+
+About half an hour after the noise of wheels was heard, and a wagon
+drove swiftly into the yard of the inn. An old man jumped out, gave his
+horse to the hostler, and entered the inn.
+
+He was somewhat flushed and flurried. His eyes twinkled brightly,
+and there was a somewhat exuberant familiarity in his address to the
+landlord.
+
+"There was a party who stopped here last night," said he, "that I wish
+to see."
+
+"There was only one person here last night," answered the landlord; "a
+young man--"
+
+"A young man, yes--that's right; I want to see him."
+
+"Well, as to that," said the landlord, "I don't know but you'll have to
+wait. He ain't up yet."
+
+"Isn't he up yet?"
+
+"No; he's an awful sleeper. He went to bed last night early, for his
+lights were out before eleven, and now it's nearly one, and he isn't
+up."
+
+"At any rate, I must see him."
+
+"Shall I wake him?"
+
+[Illustration: HE TORE DOWN THE COVERLET, WHICH CONCEALED THE GREATER
+PART OF HIS FACE.]
+
+"Yes, and be quick, for I'm in a hurry."
+
+The landlord went up to the door and knocked loudly. There was no
+answer. He knocked still more loudly. Still no answer. He then kept up
+an incessant rapping for about ten minutes. Still there was no answer.
+He had tried the door before, but it was locked on the inside. He went
+around to the windows that opened on the balcony; these were open.
+
+He then went down and told the old man that the door was fastened, but
+that the windows were unfastened. If he chose to go in there he might do
+so.
+
+"I will do so," said the other, "for I must see him. I have business of
+importance." He went up.
+
+The landlord and some of the servants, whose curiosity was by this time
+excited, followed after.
+
+The old man opened the window, which swung back on hinges, and entered.
+There was a man in the bed.
+
+He lay motionless. The old man approached. He recognized the face.
+
+A cold chill went to his heart. He tore down the coverlet, which
+concealed the greater part of his face. The next moment he fell forward
+upon the bed.
+
+"Johnnie!" he screamed--"Johnnie!"
+
+There was no answer. The face was rigid and fixed. Around the neck was a
+faint, bluish line, a mark like what might have been made by a cord.
+
+"Johnnie, Johnnie!" cried the old man again, in piercing tones. He
+caught at the hands of the figure before him; he tried to pull it
+forward.
+
+There was no response. The old man turned away and rushed to the window,
+gasping, with white lips, and bloodshot eyes, and a face of horror.
+
+"He is dead!" he shrieked. "My boy--my son--my Johnnie! Murderer! You
+have killed him."
+
+The landlord and the servants started back in horror from the presence
+of this father in his misery.
+
+It was for but a moment that he stood there. He went back and flung
+himself upon the bed. Then he came forth again and stood upon the
+balcony, motionless, white-faced, speechless--his lips muttering
+inaudible words.
+
+A crowd gathered round. The story soon spread. This was the father of a
+young man who had stopped at the inn and died suddenly. The crowd that
+gathered around the inn saw the father as he stood on the balcony.
+
+The dwellers in the cottage that was almost opposite saw him, and
+Asgeelo brought them the news.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVII.
+
+
+MRS. COMPTON'S SECRET.
+
+On the night after the arrival of John, Brandon had left Denton. He
+did not return till the following day. On arriving at the inn he saw an
+unusual spectacle--the old man on the balcony, the crowd of villagers
+around, the universal excitement.
+
+On entering the inn he found some one who for some time had been waiting
+to see him. It was Philips. Philips had come early in the morning, and
+had been over to the cottage. He had learned all about the affair at the
+inn, and narrated it to Brandon, who listened with his usual calmness.
+He then gave him a letter from Frank, which Brandon read, and put in his
+pocket.
+
+Then Philips told him the news which he had learned at the cottage about
+Langhetti. Langhetti and Despard were both there yet, the former very
+dangerously ill, the latter waiting for some friends. He also told about
+the affair on the road, the seizure of Clark, and his delivery into the
+hands of the authorities.
+
+Brandon heard all this with the deepest interest. While the excitement
+at the inn was still at its height, he hurried off to the magistrate
+into whose hands Clark had been committed. After an interview with
+him he returned. He found the excitement unabated. He then went to the
+cottage close by the inn, where Beatrice had found a home, and Langhetti
+a refuge. Philips was with him.
+
+On knocking at the door Asgeelo opened it. They entered the parlor, and
+in a short time Mrs. Compton appeared. Brandon's first inquiry was after
+Langhetti.
+
+"He is about the same," said Mrs. Compton.
+
+"Does the doctor hold out any hopes of his recovery?" asked Brandon,
+anxiously.
+
+"Very little," said Mrs. Compton.
+
+"Who nurses him?"
+
+"Miss Potts and Mr. Despard."
+
+"Are they both here?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Brandon was silent.
+
+"I will go and tell them that you are here," said Mrs. Compton.
+
+Brandon made no reply, and Mrs. Compton, taking silence for assent, went
+to announce his arrival.
+
+In a short time they appeared. Beatrice entered first. She was grave,
+and cold, and solemn; Despard was gloomy and stern. They both shook
+hands with Brandon in silence. Beatrice gave her hand without a word,
+lifelessly and coldly; Despard took his hand abstractedly.
+
+Brandon looked earnestly at Beatrice as she stood there before him,
+calm, sad, passionless, almost repellent in her demeanor, and wondered
+what the cause might be of such a change.
+
+Mrs. Compton stood apart at a little distance, near Philips, and looked
+on with a strange expression, half wistful, half timid.
+
+There was a silence which at length became embarrassing. From the room
+where they were sitting the inn could plainly be seen, with the crowd
+outside. Beatrice's eyes were directed toward this. Despard said not
+a word. At another time he might have been strongly interested in this
+man, who on so many accounts was so closely connected with him; but now
+the power of some dominant and all-engrossing idea possessed him, and he
+seemed to take no notice of any things whatever either without the house
+or within.
+
+After looking in silence at the inn for a long time Beatrice withdrew
+her gaze. Brandon regarded her with a fixed and earnest glance, as
+though he would read her inmost soul. She looked at him, and cast down
+her eyes.
+
+"You abhor me!" said he, in a loud, thrilling voice.
+
+She said nothing, but pointed toward the inn.
+
+"You know all about that?"
+
+Beatrice bowed her head silently.
+
+"And you look upon me as guilty?"
+
+She gazed at him, but said nothing. It was a cold, austere gaze, without
+one touch of softness.
+
+"After all," said she, "he was my father. You had your vengeance to
+take, and you have taken it. You may now exult, but my heart bleeds."
+
+Brandon started to his feet.
+
+"As God lives," he cried, "I did not do that thing!"
+
+Beatrice looked up mournfully and inquiringly.
+
+"If it had been his base life which I sought," said Brandon, vehemently,
+"I might long ago have taken it. He was surrounded on all sides by my
+power. He could not escape. Officers of the law stood ready to do my
+bidding. Yet I allowed him to leave the Hall in safety. I might have
+taken his heart's-blood. I might have handed him over to the law. I did
+not."
+
+"No," said Beatrice, in icy tones, "you did not; you sought a deeper
+vengeance. You cared not to take his life. It was sweeter to you to
+take his son's life and give him agony. Death would have been
+insufficient--anguish was what you wished.
+
+"It is not for me to blame you," she continued, while Brandon looked
+at her without a word. "Who am I--a polluted one, of the accursed
+brood--who am I, to stand between you and him, or to blame you if you
+seek for vengeance? I am nothing. You have done kindnesses to me which I
+now wish were undone. Oh that I had died under the hand of the pirates!
+Oh that the ocean had swept me down to death with all its waves! Then I
+should not have lived to see this day!"
+
+Roused by her vehemence Despard started from his abstraction and looked
+around.
+
+"It seems to me," said he, "as if you were blaming some one for
+inflicting suffering on a man for whom no suffering can be too great.
+What! can you think of your friend as he lies there in the next room in
+his agony, dying, torn to pieces by this man's agency, and have pity for
+him?"
+
+"Oh!" cried Beatrice, "is he not my father?"
+
+Mrs. Compton looked around with staring eyes, and trembled from head to
+foot. Her lips moved--she began to speak, but the words died away on her
+lips.
+
+"Your father!" said Despard; "his acts have cut him off from a
+daughter's sympathy."
+
+"Yet he has a father's feelings, at least for his dead son. Never shall
+I forget his look of anguish as he stood on the balcony. His face was
+turned this way. He seemed to reproach me."
+
+"Let me tell you," cried Despard, harshly. "He has not yet made
+atonement for his crimes. This is but the beginning. I have a debt of
+vengeance to extort from him. One scoundrel has been handed over to the
+law, another lies dead, another is in London in the hands of Langhetti's
+friends, the Carbonari. The worst one yet remains, and my father's voice
+cries to me day and night from that dreadful ship."
+
+"Your father's voice!" cried Beatrice. She looked at Despard. Their eyes
+met. Something passed between them in that glance which brought back the
+old, mysterious feeling which she had known before. Despard rose hastily
+and left the room.
+
+"In God's name," cried Brandon, "I say that this man's life was not
+sought by me, nor the life of any of his. I will tell you all. When he
+compassed the death of Uracao, of whom you know, he obtained possession
+of his son, then a mere boy, and carried him away. He kept this lad with
+him and brought him up with the idea that he was his best friend, and
+that he would one day show him his father's murderer. After I made
+myself known to him, he told Vijal that I was this murderer. Vijal tried
+to assassinate me. I foiled him, and could have killed him. But I spared
+his life. I then told him the truth. That is all that I have done. Of
+course, I knew that Vijal would seek for vengeance. That was not my
+concern. Since Potts had sent him to seek my life under a lie, I sent
+him away with knowledge of the truth. I do not repent that told him; nor
+is there any guilt chargeable to me. The man that lies dead there is not
+my victim. Yet if he were--oh, Beatrice! if he were--what then? Could
+that atone for what I have suffered? My father ruined and broken-hearted
+and dying in a poor-house calls to me always for vengeance. My mother
+suffering in the emigrant ship, and dying of the plague amidst horrors
+without a name calls to me. Above all my sweet sister, my pure Edith--"
+
+"Edith!" interrupted Beatrice--"Edith!"
+
+"Yes; do you not know that? She was buried alive."
+
+"What!" cried Beatrice; "is it possible that you do not know that she is
+alive?"
+
+"Alive!"
+
+"Yes, alive; for when I was at Holly I saw her."
+
+Brandon stood speechless with surprise.
+
+"Langhetti saved her," said Beatrice. "His sister has charge of her
+now."
+
+"Where, where is she?" asked Brandon, wildly.
+
+"In a convent at London."
+
+At this moment Despard entered.
+
+"Is this true?" asked Brandon, with a deeper agitation than had ever yet
+been seen in him--"my sister, is it true that she is not dead?"
+
+"It is true. I should have told you," said Despard, "but other thoughts
+drove it from my mind, and I forgot that you might be ignorant."
+
+"How is it possible? I was at Quebec myself. I have sought over the
+world after my relatives--"
+
+"I will tell you," said Despard.
+
+He sat down and began to tell the story of Edith's voyage and all that
+Langhetti had done, down to the time of his rescue of her from death.
+The recital filled Brandon with such deep amazement that he had not a
+word to say. He listened like one stupefied.
+
+"Thank God!" he cried at last when it was ended; "thank God, I am spared
+this last anguish; I am freed from the thought which for years has been
+most intolerable. The memories that remain are bitter enough, but they
+are not so terrible as this. But I must see her. I must find her. Where
+is she?"
+
+"Make yourself easy on that score," said Despard, calmly. "She will be
+here to-morrow or the day after. I have written to Langhetti's sister;
+she will come, and will bring your sister with her."
+
+"I should have told you so before," said Beatrice, "but my own troubles
+drove every thing else from my mind."
+
+"Forgive me," said Brandon, "for intruding now. I came in to learn about
+Langhetti. You look upon me with horror. I will withdraw."
+
+Beatrice bowed her head, and tears streamed from her eyes. Brandon took
+her hand.
+
+"Farewell," he murmured; "farewell, Beatrice. You will not condemn me
+when I say that I am innocent?"
+
+"I am accursed," she murmured.
+
+Despard looked at these two with deep anxiety.
+
+"Stay," said he to Brandon. "There is something which must be explained.
+There is a secret which Langhetti has had for years, and which he has
+several times been on the point of telling. I have just spoken to him
+and told him that you are here. He says he will tell his secret now,
+whatever it is. He wishes us all to come in--and you too, especially,"
+said Despard, looking at Mrs. Compton.
+
+The poor old creature began to tremble.
+
+"Don't be afraid, old woman," said Philips. "Take my arm and I'll
+protect you."
+
+She rose, and, leaning on his arm, followed the others into Langhetti's
+room. He was fearfully emaciated. His material frame, worn down by pain
+and confinement, seemed about to dissolve and let free that soaring soul
+of his, whose fiery impulses had for years chafed against the prison
+bars of its mortal inclosure. His eyes shone darkly and luminously from
+their deep, hollow sockets, and upon his thin, wan, white lips there was
+a faint smile of welcome--faint like the smile of the sick, yet sweet as
+the smile of an angel.
+
+It was with such a smile that he greeted Brandon, and with both of his
+thin white hands pressed the strong and muscular hand of the other.
+
+"And you are Edith's brother," he said. "Edith's brother," he repeated,
+resting lovingly upon that name, Edith. "She always said you were alive,
+and once she told me she should live to see you. Welcome, brother of my
+Edith! I am a dying man. Edith said her other brother was alive--Frank.
+Where is Frank? Will he not come to stand by the bedside of his dying
+friend? He did so once."
+
+"He will come," said Brandon, in a voice choked with emotion, as he
+pressed the hand of the dying man. "He will come, and at once."
+
+"And you will be all here, then--sweet friends! It is well."
+
+He paused.
+
+"Bice!" said he at last.
+
+Beatrice, who was sitting by his head, bent down toward him.
+
+"Bice," said Langhetti. "My pocket-book is in my coat, and if you open
+the inside pocket you will find something wrapped in paper. Bring it to
+me."
+
+Beatrice found the pocket-book and opened it as directed. In the inside
+pocket there was a thin, small parcel. She opened it and drew forth a
+very small baby's stocking.
+
+"Look at the mark," said Langhetti.
+
+Beatrice did so, and saw two letters marked on it--B. D.
+
+"This was given me by your nurse at Hong Kong. She said your things were
+all marked with those letters when you were first brought to her. She
+did not know what it meant. 'B' meant Beatrice; but what did 'D' mean?"
+
+All around that bedside exchanged glances of wonder. Mrs. Compton was
+most agitated.
+
+"Take me away," she murmured to Philips.
+
+But Philips would not.
+
+"Cheer up, old woman!" said he. "There's nothing to fear now. That devil
+won't hurt you."
+
+"Now, in my deep interest in you, and in my affection, I tried to find
+out what this meant. The nurse and I often talked about it. She told
+me that your father never cared particularly about you, and that it was
+strange for your clothing to be marked 'D' if your name was Potts. It
+was a thing which greatly troubled her. I made many inquiries. I found
+out about the Manilla murder case. From that moment I suspected that 'D'
+meant Despard.
+
+"Oh, Heavens!" sighed Beatrice, in an agony of suspense. Brandon and
+Despard stood motionless, waiting for something further.
+
+"This is what I tried to solve. I made inquiries every where. At last I
+gave it up. So when circumstances threw Beatrice again in my way I tried
+again. I have always been baffled There is only, one who can tell--only
+one. She is here, in this room; and, in the name of God, I call upon her
+to speak out and tell the truth."
+
+"Who?" cried Despard, while he and Brandon both looked earnestly at Mrs.
+Compton.
+
+"Mrs. Compton!" said Langhetti; and his voice seemed to die away from
+exhaustion.
+
+Mrs. Compton was seized with a panic more overpowering than usual. She
+gasped for breath. "Oh, Lord!" she cried. "Oh, Lord! Spare me! spare me!
+He'll kill me!"
+
+Brandon walked up to her and took her hand. "Mrs. Compton," said he, in
+a calm, resolute voice, "your timidity has been your curse. There is no
+need for fear now. I will protect you. The man whom you have feared so
+many years is now ruined, helpless, and miserable. I could destroy him
+at this moment if I chose. You are foolish if you fear him. Your son is
+with you. His arm supports you, and I stand here ready to protect both
+you and your son. Speak out, and tell what you know. Your husband is
+still living. He longs for your return. You and your son are free from
+your enemies. Trust in me, and you shall both go back to him and live in
+peace."
+
+Tears fell from Mrs. Compton's eyes. She seized Brandon's hand and
+pressed it to her thin lips.
+
+"You will protect me?" said she.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You will save me from him?" she persisted, in a voice of agony.
+
+"Yes, and from all others like him. Do not fear. Speak out."
+
+Mrs. Compton clung to the arm of her son. She drew a long breath. She
+looked up into his face as though to gain courage, and then began.
+
+It was a long story. She had been attendant and nurse to the wife of
+Colonel Despard, who had died in giving birth to a child. Potts had
+brought news of her death, but had said nothing whatever about the
+child. Colonel Despard knew nothing of it. Being at a distance at the
+time, on duty, he had heard but the one fact of his wife's death, and
+all other things were forgotten. He had not even made inquiries as to
+whether the child which he had expected was alive or dead, but had at
+once given way to the grief of the bereavement, and had hurried off.
+
+In his designs on Colonel Despard, Potts feared that the knowledge of
+the existence of a child might keep him in India, and distract his mind
+from its sorrow. Therefore he was the more anxious not only to keep this
+secret, but also to prevent it from ever being known to Colonel Despard.
+With this idea he hurried the preparation of the _Vishnu_ to such an
+extent that it was ready for sea almost immediately, and left with
+Colonel Despard on that ill-fated voyage.
+
+Mrs. Compton had been left in India with the child. Her son joined her,
+in company with John, who, though only a boy, had the vices of a grown
+man. Months passed before Potts came back. He then took her along with
+the child to China, and left the latter with a respectable woman at
+Hong Kong, who was the widow of a British naval officer. The child was
+Beatrice Despard.
+
+Potts always feared that Mrs. Compton might divulge his secret, and
+therefore always kept her with him. Timid by nature to an unusual
+degree, the wretched woman was in constant fear for her life, and as
+years passed on this fear was not lessened. The sufferings which she
+felt from this terror were atoned for, however, by the constant presence
+of her son, who remained in connection with Potts, influenced chiefly by
+the ascendency which this villain had over a man of his weak and
+timid nature. Potts had brought them to England, and they had lived in
+different places, until at last Brandon Hall had fallen into his hands.
+Of the former occupants of Brandon Hall, Mrs. Compton knew almost
+nothing. Very little had ever been said about them to her. She knew
+scarcely any thing about them, except that their names were Brandon, and
+that they had suffered misfortunes.
+
+Finally, this Beatrice was Beatrice Despard, the daughter of Colonel
+Despard and the sister of the clergyman then present. She herself,
+instead of being the daughter of Potts, had been one of his victims, and
+had suffered not the least at his hands.
+
+This astounding revelation was checked by frequent interruptions. The
+actual story of her true parentage overwhelmed Beatrice. This was the
+awful thought which had occurred to herself frequently before. This was
+what had moved her so deeply in reading the manuscript of her father
+on that African Isle. This also was the thing which had always made her
+hate with such intensity the miscreant who pretended to be her father.
+
+Now she was overwhelmed. She threw herself into the arms of her brother
+and wept upon his breast. Courtenay Despard for a moment rose above
+the gloom that oppressed him, and pressed to his heart this sister so
+strangely discovered. Brandon stood apart, looking on, shaken to the
+soul and unnerved by the deep joy of that unparalleled discovery. Amidst
+all the speculations in which he had indulged the very possibility of
+this had never suggested itself. He had believed most implicitly all
+along that Beatrice was in reality the daughter of his mortal enemy. Now
+the discovery of the truth came upon him with overwhelming force.
+
+She raised herself from her brother's embrace, and turned and looked
+upon the man whom she adored--the one who, as she said, had over and
+over again saved her life; the one whose life she, too, in her turn
+had saved, with whom she had passed so many adventurous and momentous
+days--days of alternating peace and storm, of varying hope and despair.
+To him she owed every thing; to him she owed even the rapture of this
+moment.
+
+As their eyes met they revealed all their inmost thoughts. There was now
+no barrier between them. Vanished was the insuperable obstacle, vanished
+the impassable gulf. They stood side by side. The enemy of this man--his
+foe, his victim--was also hers. Whatever he might suffer, whatever
+anguish might have been on the face of that old man who had looked
+at her from the balcony, she had clearly no part nor lot now in that
+suffering or that anguish. He was the murderer of her father. She was
+not the daughter of this man. She was of no vulgar or sordid race. Her
+blood was no longer polluted or accursed. She was of pure and noble
+lineage. She was a Despard.
+
+"Beatrice," said Brandon, with a deep, fervid emotion in his voice;
+"Beatrice, I am yours, and you are mine. Beatrice, it was a lie that
+kept us apart. My life is yours, and yours is mine."
+
+He thought of nothing but her. He spoke with burning impetuosity. His
+words sank into her soul. His eyes devoured hers in the passion of their
+glance.
+
+"Beatrice--my Beatrice!" he said, "Beatrice Despard--"
+
+He spoke low, bending his head to hers. Her head sank toward his breast.
+
+"Beatrice, do you now reproach me?" he murmured.
+
+She held out her hand, while tears stood in her eyes. Brandon seized
+it and covered it with kisses. Despard saw this. In the midst of the
+anguish of his face a smile shone forth, like sunshine out of a clouded
+sky. He looked at these two for a moment.
+
+Langhetti's eyes were closed. Mrs. Compton and her son were talking
+apart. Despard looked upon the lovers.
+
+"Let them love," he murmured to himself; "let them love and be happy.
+Heaven has its favorites. I do not envy them; I bless them, though I
+love without hope. Heaven has its favorites, but I am an outcast from
+that favor."
+
+A shudder passed through him. He drew himself up.
+
+"Since love is denied me," he thought, "I can at least have vengeance."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVIII.
+
+
+THE MALAY'S VENGEANCE.
+
+Some hours afterward Despard called Brandon outside the cottage, and
+walked along the bank which overhung the beach. Arriving at a point
+several hundred yards distant from the cottage he stopped. Brandon
+noticed a deeper gloom upon his face and a sterner purpose on his
+resolute mouth.
+
+"I have called you aside," said Despard, "to say that I am going on a
+journey. I may be back immediately. If I do not return, will you say to
+any one who may ask"--and here he paused for a moment--"say to any one
+who may ask, that I have gone away on important business, and that the
+time of my coming is uncertain."
+
+"I suppose you can be heard of at Holby, in case of need."
+
+"I am never going back again to Holby."
+
+Brandon looked surprised.
+
+"To one like you," said Despard, "I do not object to tell my purpose.
+You know what it is to seek for vengeance. The only feeling that I have
+is that. Love, tenderness, affection, all are idle words with me.
+
+"There are three who pre-eminently were concerned in my father's death,"
+continued Despard. "One was Cigole. The Carbonari have him. Langhetti
+tells me that he must die, unless he himself interposes to save him. And
+I think Langhetti will never so interpose. Langhetti is dying--another
+stimulus to vengeance.
+
+"The one who has been the cause of this is Clark, another one of my
+father's murderers. He is in the hands of the law. His punishment is
+certain.
+
+"There yet remains the third, and the worst. Your vengeance is satisfied
+on him. Mine is not. Not even the sight of that miscreant in the
+attitude of a bereaved father could for one moment move me to pity. I
+took note of the agony of his face. I watched his grief with joy. I am
+going to complete that joy. He must die, and no mortal can save him from
+my hands."
+
+The deep, stern tones of Despard were like the knell of doom, and
+there was in them such determinate vindictiveness that Brandon saw all
+remonstrance to be useless.
+
+He marked the pale sad face of this man. He saw in it the traces of
+sorrow of longer standing than any which he might have felt about the
+manuscript that he had read. It was the face of a man who had suffered
+so much that life had become a burden.
+
+"You are a clergyman," said Brandon at length, with a faint hope that an
+appeal to his profession might have some effect.
+
+Despard smiled cynically.
+
+"I am a man," said he.
+
+"Can not the discovery of a sister," asked Brandon, "atone in some
+degree for your grief about your father?"
+
+Despard shook his head wearily.
+
+"No," said he, "I must do something, and only one purpose is before me
+now. I see your motive. You wish to stop short of taking that devil's
+life. It is useless to remonstrate. My mind is made up. Perhaps I may
+come back unsuccessful. If so--I must be resigned, I suppose. At any
+rate you know my purpose, and can let those who ask after me know, in a
+general way, what I have said."
+
+With a slight bow Despard walked away, leaving Brandon standing there
+filled with thoughts which were half mournful, half remorseful.
+
+On leaving Brandon Despard went at once to the inn. The crowd without
+had dwindled away to half a dozen people, who were still talking about
+the one event of the day. Making his way through these he entered the
+inn.
+
+The landlord stood there with a puzzled face, discussing with several
+friends the case of the day. More particularly he was troubled by
+the sudden departure of the old man, who about an hour previously had
+started off in a great hurry, leaving no directions whatever as to what
+was to be done with the body up stairs. It was this which now perplexed
+the landlord.
+
+Despard listened attentively to the conversation. The landlord mentioned
+that Potts had taken the road to Brandon. The servant who had been with
+the young man had not been seen. If the old man should not return what
+was to be done?
+
+This was enough for Despard, who had his horse saddled without delay
+and started also on the Brandon road. He rode on swiftly for some time,
+hoping to overtake the man whom he pursued. He rode, however, several
+miles without coming in sight of him or of any one like him. At last
+he reached that hollow which had been the scene of his encounter with
+Clark. As he descended into it he saw a group of men by the road-side
+surrounding some object. In the middle of the road was a farmer's wagon,
+and a horse was standing in the distance.
+
+[Illustration: "IT WAS POTTS."]
+
+Despard rode up and saw the prostrate figure of a man. He dismounted.
+The farmers stood aside and disclosed the face.
+
+It was Potts.
+
+Despard stooped down. It was already dusk but even in that dim light
+he saw the coils of a thin cord wound tightly about the neck of this
+victim, from one end of which a leaden bullet hung down.
+
+By that light also he saw the hilt of a weapon which had been plunged
+into his heart, from which the blood had flowed in torrents.
+
+It was a Malay creese. Upon the handle was carven a name:
+
+JOHN POTTS.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIX.
+
+
+[Greek: Deute teleutaion aspasmon domen.]
+
+The excitement which had prevailed through the village of Denton was
+intensified by the arrival there of the body of the old man. For his
+mysterious death no one could account except one person.
+
+That one was Brandon, whom Despard surprised by his speedy return, and
+to whom he narrated the circumstances of the discovery. Brandon knew who
+it was that could wield that cord, what arm it was that had held that
+weapon, and what heart it was that was animated by sufficient vengeance
+to strike these blows.
+
+Despard, finding his purpose thus unexpectedly taken away, remained in
+the village and waited. There was one whom he wished to see again. On
+the following day Frank Brandon arrived from London. He met Langhetti
+with deep emotion, and learned from his brother the astonishing story of
+Edith.
+
+On the following day that long-lost sister herself appeared in company
+with Mrs. Thornton. Her form, always fragile, now appeared frailer than
+ever, her face had a deeper pallor, her eyes an intenser lustre, her
+expression was more unearthly. The joy which the brothers felt at
+finding their sister was subdued by an involuntary awe which was
+inspired by her presence. She seemed to them as she had seemed to others
+like one who had arisen from the dead.
+
+At the sight of her Langhetti's face grew radiant--all pain seemed to
+leave him. She bent over him, and their wan lips met in the only kiss
+which they had ever exchanged, with all that deep love which they had
+felt for one another. She sat by his bedside. She seemed to appropriate
+him to herself. The others acknowledged this quiet claim and gave way to
+it.
+
+As she kissed Langhetti's lips he murmured faintly:
+
+"I knew you would come."
+
+"Yes," said Edith. "We will go together.
+
+"Yes, sweetest and dearest," said Langhetti. "And therefore we meet now
+never to part again."
+
+She looked at him fondly.
+
+"The time of our deliverance is near, oh my friend."
+
+"Near," repeated Langhetti, with a smile of ecstasy--"near. Yes, you
+have already by your presence brought me nearer to my immortality."
+
+Mrs. Thornton was pale and wan; and the shock which she felt at the
+sight of her brother at first overcame her.
+
+Despard said nothing to her through the day, but as evening came on he
+went up to her and in a low voice said, "Let us take a walk."
+
+Mrs. Thornton looked at him earnestly, and then put on her bonnet. It
+was quite dark as they left the house. They walked along the road. The
+sea was on their left.
+
+"This is the last that we shall see of one another, Little Playmate,"
+said Despard, after a long silence. "I have left Holby forever."
+
+"Left Holby! Where are you going?" asked Mrs. Thornton, anxiously.
+
+"To join the army."
+
+"The army!"
+
+"Little Playmate," said Despard, "even my discovery of my father's death
+has not changed me. Even my thirst for vengeance could not take the
+place of my love. Listen--I flung myself with all the ardor that I could
+command into the pursuit of my father's murderers. I forced myself to an
+unnatural pitch of pitilessness and vindictiveness. I set out to pursue
+one of the worst of these men with the full determination to kill him.
+God saved me from blood-guiltiness. I found the man dead in the road.
+After this all my passion for vengeance died out, and I was brought face
+to face with the old love and the old despair. But each of us would die
+rather than do wrong, or go on in a wrong course. The only thing left
+for us is to separate forever."
+
+"Yes, forever," murmured Mrs. Thornton.
+
+"Ah, Little Playmate," he continued, taking her hand, "you are the one
+who was not only my sweet companion but the bright ideal of my youth.
+You always stood transfigured in my eyes. You, Teresa, were in my mind
+something perfect--a bright, brilliant being unlike any other. Whether
+you were really what I believed you mattered not so far as the effect
+upon me was concerned. You were at once a real and an ideal being. I
+believed in you, and believe in you yet.
+
+"I was not a lover; I was a devotee. My feelings toward you are such as
+Dante describes his feelings toward his Beatrice. My love is tender and
+reverential. I exalt you to a plane above my own. What I say may sound
+extravagant to you, but it is actual fact with me. Why it should be so I
+can not tell. I can only say--I am so made.
+
+"We part, and I leave you; but I shall be like Dante, I suppose, and as
+the years pass, instead of weakening my love they will only refine it
+and purify it. You will be to me a guardian angel, a patron saint--your
+name shall always mingle with my prayers. Is it impious to name your
+name in prayer? I turn away from you because I would rather suffer than
+do wrong. May I not pray for my darling?"
+
+"I don't know what to do," said Mrs. Thornton, wearily. "Your power over
+me is fearful. Lama, I would do any thing for your sake. You talk
+about your memories; it is not for me to speak about mine. Whether you
+idealize me or not, after all, you must know what I really am."
+
+[Illustration: "SHE WAS WEEPING. DESPARD FOLDED HER IN HIS ARMS."]
+
+"Would you be glad never to see me again?"
+
+The hand which Despard held trembled.
+
+"If you would be happier," said she.
+
+"Would you be glad if I could conquer this love of mine, and meet you
+again as coolly as a common friend?"
+
+"I want you to be happy, Lama," she replied. "I would suffer myself to
+make you happy."
+
+She was weeping. Despard folded her in his arms.
+
+"This once," said he, "the only time, Little Playmate, in this life."
+
+She wept upon his breast.
+
+"[Greek: Teleutaion aspasmon domen]" said Despard, murmuring in a low
+voice the opening of the song of the dead, so well known, so often song,
+so fondly remembered--the song which bids fare-well to the dead when the
+friends bestow the "last kiss."
+
+He bent down his head. Her head fell. His lips touched her forehead.
+
+She felt the beating of his heart; she felt his frame tremble from head
+to foot; she heard his deep-drawn breathing, every breath a sigh.
+
+"It is our last farewell," said he, in a voice of agony.
+
+Then he tore himself away, and, a few minutes later, was riding from the
+village.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LX.
+
+
+CONCLUSION.
+
+A month passed. Despard gave no sign. A short note which he wrote to
+Brandon announced his arrival at London, and informed him that important
+affairs required his departure abroad.
+
+The cottage was but a small place, and Brandon determined to have
+Langhetti conveyed to the Hall. An ambulance was obtained from Exeter,
+and on this Langhetti and Edith were taken away.
+
+On arriving at Brandon Hall Beatrice found her diary in its place of
+concealment, the memory of old sorrows which could never be forgotten.
+But those old sorrows were passing away now, in the presence of her new
+joy.
+
+And yet that joy was darkened by the cloud of a new sorrow. Langhetti
+was dying. His frail form became more and more attenuated every day, his
+eyes more lustrous, his face more spiritual. Down every step of that way
+which led to the grave Edith went with him, seeming in her own face and
+form to promise a speedier advent in that spirit-world where she longed
+to arrive. Beside these Beatrice watched, and Mrs. Thornton added her
+tender care.
+
+Day by day Langhetti grew worse. At last one day he called for his
+violin. He had caused it to be sent for on a previous occasion, but
+had never used it. His love for music was satisfied by the songs of
+Beatrice. Now he wished to exert his own skill with the last remnants of
+his strength.
+
+Langhetti was propped up by pillows, so that he might hold the
+instrument. Near him Edith reclined on a sofa. Her large, lustrous eyes
+were fixed on him. Her breathing, which came and went rapidly, showed
+her utter weakness and prostration.
+
+Langhetti drew his bow across the strings.
+
+It was a strange, sweet sound, weak, but sweet beyond all words--a long,
+faint, lingering tone, which rose and died and rose again, bearing away
+the souls of those who heard it into a realm of enchantment and delight.
+
+That tone gave strength to Langhetti. It was as though some unseen power
+had been invoked and had come to his aid. The tones came forth more
+strongly, on firmer pinions, flying from the strings and towering
+through the air.
+
+The strength of these tones seemed to emanate from some unseen power;
+so also did their meaning. It was a meaning beyond what might be
+intelligible to those who listened--a meaning beyond mortal thought.
+
+Yet Langhetti understood it, and so did Edith. Her eyes grew brighter, a
+flush started to her wan cheeks, her breathing grew more rapid.
+
+The music went on. More subtle, more penetrating, more thrilling in its
+mysterious meaning, it rose and swelled through the air, like the song
+of some unseen ones, who were waiting for newcomers to the Invisible
+land.
+
+Suddenly Beatrice gave a piercing cry. She rushed to Edith's sofa. Edith
+lay back, her marble face motionless, her white lips apart, her eyes
+looking upward. But the lips breathed no more, and in the eyes there no
+longer beamed the light of life.
+
+At the cry of Beatrice the violin fell from Langhetti's hand, and he
+sank back. His face was turned toward Edith. He saw her and knew it all.
+
+[Illustration: LANGHETTI DREW HIS BOW ACROSS THE STRINGS.]
+
+He said not a word, but lay with his face turned toward her. They wished
+to carry her away, but he gently reproved them.
+
+"Wait!" he murmured. "In a short time you will carry away another also.
+Wait."
+
+They waited.
+
+An hour before midnight all was over. They had passed--those pure
+spirits, from a world which was uncongenial to a fairer world and a
+purer clime.
+
+They were buried side by side in the Brandon vaults. Frank then
+returned to London. Mrs. Thornton went back to Holby. The new rector was
+surprised at the request of the lady of Thornton Grange to be allowed
+to become organist in Trinity Church. She offered to pension off the old
+man who now presided there. Her request was gladly acceded to. Her zeal
+was remarkable. Every day she visited the church to practice at the
+organ. This became the purpose of her life. Yet of all the pieces two
+were performed most frequently in her daily practice, the one being
+the Agnus Dei; the other, the [Greek: teleutaion aspasmon] of St. John
+Damascene. Peace! Peace! Peace!
+
+Was that cry of hers unavailing? Of Despard nothing was known for some
+time. Mr. Thornton once mentioned to his wife that the Rev. Courtenay
+Despard had joined the Eleventh Regiment, and had gone to South Africa.
+He mentioned this because he had seen a paragraph stating that a Captain
+Despard had been killed in the Kaffir war, and wondered whether it could
+by any possibility be their old friend or not.
+
+At Brandon Hall, the one who had been so long a prisoner and a slave
+soon became mistress.
+
+The gloom which had rested over the house was dispelled, and Brandon
+and his wife were soon able to look back, even to the darkest period of
+their lives, without fear of marring their perfect happiness.
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Cord and Creese, by James de Mille
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CORD AND CREESE ***
+
+***** This file should be named 8572.txt or 8572.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/8/5/7/8572/
+
+Produced by David Moynihan, Tonya Allen, Charles Franks
+and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+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.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at
+  www.gutenberg.org/license.
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+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
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at 809
+North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887.  Email
+contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the
+Foundation's web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit:  www.gutenberg.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For forty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+