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diff --git a/old/8572-h.htm.2021-01-26 b/old/8572-h.htm.2021-01-26 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0f59f78 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/8572-h.htm.2021-01-26 @@ -0,0 +1,26884 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Cord and Creese, by James de Mille + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + .side { float: right; font-size: 75%; width: 25%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; margin-left: 0.8em; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + + +<pre> + +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: November 15, 2016 + + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CORD AND CREESE *** + + + + +Text file produced by David Moynihan, Tonya Allen, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + CORD AND CREESE + </h1> + <h2> + By James De Mille + </h2> + <h5> + The Author Of “The Dodge Club” + </h5> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. — THE LETTER FROM BEYOND THE + SEA. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. — A LIFE TRAGEDY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. — “A MAN OVERBOARD!” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. — SINKING IN DEEP WATERS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. — THE MYSTERY OF COFFIN ISLAND. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. — THE DWELLER IN THE SUNKEN + SHIP. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. — MANUSCRIPT FOUND IN A + BOTTLE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. — THE SIGNAL OF FIRE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. — THE MALAY PIRATE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. — BEATRICE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. — THE IMPROVISATORE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. — THE STRUGGLE FOR LIFE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. — THE BADINAGE OF OLD + FRIENDS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. — TWO LETTERS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. — JOURNAL OF PAOLO LANGHETTI. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. — HUSBAND AND WIFE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. — THE SHADOW OF THE AFRICAN + FOREST. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. — INQUIRIES. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. — THE DEAD ALIVE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. — FRANK’S STORY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. — THE DIVING BUSINESS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. — THE ISLET OF SANTA CRUZ. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. — THE OCEAN DEPTHS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. — BEATRICE’S JOURNAL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. — THE BYZANTINE HYMNISTS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. — CLASPED HANDS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. — JOURNAL OF PAOLO + LANGHETTI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. — THIS MUST END. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. — BEATRICE’S JOURNAL. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX. — SMITHERS & CO. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI. — PAOLO LANGHETTI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII. — FLIGHT. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII. — “PICKED UP ADRIFT.” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XXXIV. — ON THE TRACK. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXXV. — BEATRICE’S RECOVERY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XXXVI. — THE AFFAIRS OF SMITHERS + & CO. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0037"> CHAPTER XXXVII. — THE “PROMETHEUS.” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0038"> CHAPTER XXXVIII. — THE SECRET. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0039"> CHAPTER XXXIX. — THE CAB. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0040"> CHAPTER XL. — DISCOVERIES. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0041"> CHAPTER XLI. — THEY MEET AGAIN. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0042"> CHAPTER XLII. — LANGHETTI’S ATTEMPT. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0043"> CHAPTER XLIII. — THE STRANGER. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0044"> CHAPTER XLIV. — THE STRANGER’S STORY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0045"> CHAPTER XLV. — BEATRICE’S JOURNAL + CONCLUDED. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0046"> CHAPTER XLVI. — THE LAST ESCAPE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0047"> CHAPTER XLVII. — ROUSED AT LAST. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0048"> CHAPTER XLVIII. — WHO IS HE? </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0049"> CHAPTER XLIX. — THE RUN ON THE BANK. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0050"> CHAPTER L. — THE BANK DIRECTORS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0051"> CHAPTER LI. — A STRUGGLE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0052"> CHAPTER LII. — FACE TO FACE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0053"> CHAPTER LIII. — THE COTTAGE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0054"> CHAPTER LIV. — THE WORM TURNS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0055"> CHAPTER LV. — ON THE ROAD. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0056"> CHAPTER LVI. — FATHER AND SON. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0057"> CHAPTER LVII. — MRS. COMPTON’S SECRET. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0058"> CHAPTER LVIII. — THE MALAY’S VENGEANCE. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0059"> CHAPTER LIX. — {Greek: Deute teleutaion + aspasmon domen.} </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0060"> CHAPTER LX. — CONCLUSION. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + CORD AND CREESE + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. — THE LETTER FROM BEYOND THE SEA. + </h2> + <p> + On the morning of July 21, 1840, the <i>Daily News</i> announced the + arrival of the ship <i>Rival</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + COMPTON & BRANDON. + </p> + <p> + The general appearance of the warehouse showed that Messrs. Compton and + Brandon were probably commission merchants, general agents, or something + of that sort. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Compton smiled. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + In a short time the clerk entered the inner office and, laying the letters + down upon the table nearest Mr. Compton, he withdrew. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “This is for you, Mr. Brandon.” + </p> + <p> + “For me?” repeated Brandon, with marked surprise; and taking the letter he + looked at the address with eager curiosity. + </p> + <p> + The address was simply as follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Louis Brandon, + Sydney, New South Wales. +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + At last he nerved himself to the task and began to read. + </p> + <p> + This was the letter. + </p> + <p> + “Brandon, March 10, 1846. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>where</i> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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! + </p> + <p> + “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. <i>He</i> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I must tell you all without reserve before strength leaves me forever. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “EDITH SHE WATCHES ME, AND ENABLES ME TO WRITE THIS IN + SAFETY."} + </p> + <p> + “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 £5000 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. + </p> + <p> + “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! + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “But mark this, my son. This man Potts was <i>not</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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! + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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! + </p> + <p> + “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? + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, dear boy, and farewell. + </p> + <p> + “Your affectionate father. + </p> + <p> + “RALPH BRANDON.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Opening this Brandon read the following: + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: Facsimile of handwritten page reading: + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Ralphe Brandon"} + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. — A LIFE TRAGEDY. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Evening came and night; and the night passed, and morning came, but it + found him still there pacing the room. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + Brandon gave a faint smile. + </p> + <p> + “Serious enough,” said he, looking away with an abstracted gaze, “to put a + sudden end to my Australian career.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no—oh no!” said the other, earnestly; “not so bad as that.” + </p> + <p> + “I must go home at once.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “God knows,” said he, at last, “that I would rather have failed in + business than that this should have happened.” + </p> + <p> + Brandon looked away and said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You can reduce it to smaller proportions.” said Brandon; “that can easily + be done.” + </p> + <p> + The old man sighed. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The old man sighed, and looked at him with deep commiseration. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I leave that entirely to you,” said Brandon. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “Half!” interrupted the other. “My dear friend, you mean a quarter.” + </p> + <p> + The old man waved his hand. + </p> + <p> + “I said half, and I mean half.” + </p> + <p> + “I will never consent.” + </p> + <p> + “You must.” + </p> + <p> + “Never.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I can not allow you to make such a sacrifice,” said Brandon. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The old man was silent for some time. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Potts,” cried Brandon. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What year was this?” asked Brandon. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What was the Christian name of this Potts?” asked Brandon, calmly. + </p> + <p> + “John—John Potts.” + </p> + <p> + Brandon said nothing further, and Compton resumed. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Compton buried his face in his hands and remained silent for some time. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + He looked inquiringly at Brandon, but the latter gave no sign. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “THERE’S SOME MYSTERY ABOUT IT WHICH I CAN’T FATHOM."} + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not,” he continued—“no: you were too young, of course. + Well, it was in the <i>Vishnu</i>, 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.” + </p> + <p> + “What became of his family?” interrupted Brandon. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>Vishnu</i>. + One of the men, a Malay named Uracao, was in irons, and he was immediately + given up to the authorities.” + </p> + <p> + “Who were the others?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “How did they happen to leave the brig?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you got the papers yet, or are there any in Sydney that contain an + account of this affair?” + </p> + <p> + “I have kept them all. You may read the whole case if you care about it.” + </p> + <p> + “I should like to, very much,” said Brandon, with great calmness. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You got a letter from your wife?” said Brandon, interrogatively. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Brandon took it respectfully, and read the following: + </p> + <p> + “CALCUTTA, August 15, 1828. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Your affectionate wife, MARY.” + </p> + <p> + Brandon read this in silence, and handed it back. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Brandon shuddered perceptibly at the words “heart-broken father;” but he + quickly recovered himself. He took Compton’s hand and pressed it warmly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell them to come to me, that I am rich, and can make them happy.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll make them go to you if they are alive,” said Brandon. + </p> + <p> + “God bless you!” ejaculated the old man, fervently. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>News</i>. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Pietro Cigole</i>.” —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.” + </p> + <p> + With these thoughts in his mind Brandon went up to his room. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. — “A MAN OVERBOARD!” + </h2> + <p> + 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 <i>Rival</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Brandon from time to time had opportunities of hearing more about Cigole, + yet always the man seemed absorbed in business. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 £2000 on his arrival at + London, and three months afterward £3000-£10,000 would be remitted during + the following year. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>Java</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + On the 5th of August the ship <i>Java</i> was ready, and Mr. Compton stood + on the quarterdeck to bid good-by to Brandon. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Brandon’s face turned ghastly, and his lips seemed to freeze into a smile + of deadly meaning. + </p> + <p> + “God bless you.” cried Compton, “I see by your face that you will do it. + Good-by.” + </p> + <p> + He wrung Brandon’s hand hard and left the ship. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Aha, Capitano,” said he, in a foreign accent, “I have brought my wool off + at last.” + </p> + <p> + Brandon paced the deck silently yet watchfully. + </p> + <p> + The good ship <i>Java</i> 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 <i>Vishnu</i>; for in his account + of that affair he evidently believed that Uracao had been made a + scape-goat for the sins of the others. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + So Brandon’s superior penetration discovered the true character of Cigole. + </p> + <p> + He believed that this man was the same Cigole who had figured in the + affair of the <i>Vishnu</i>; 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Cigole looked in twenty different directions, and hesitated for some time. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + So the time passed. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t like this weather, Mr. Brandon. It’s the worst that we could + have, especially just here.” + </p> + <p> + “Why just here?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, we’re opposite the Straits of Sunda, the worst place about these + parts.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Are the Malays any worse than usual now?” asked Brandon. + </p> + <p> + “Well, no worse than they’ve been for the last ten years. Zangorri is the + worst of them all.” + </p> + <p> + “Zangorri! I’ve heard of him.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you have arms for the seamen, at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose they think it would cost too much.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + And the captain walked off much more excited than usual. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that the name?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did he call it Coffin Island?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he thought that rock looked like a coffin, and it’s dangerous + enough when a fog comes to deserve that name.” + </p> + <p> + Brandon looked earnestly at the island which the captain mentioned, and + which they were slowly approaching. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The ship drifted slowly on. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “HE PUSHED HIM HEADLONG OVER THE RAIL AND HELPLESSLY INTO + THE SEA."} + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + At last the tornado struck. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “—liquidae projecit in undas + Praecipitem.” + </pre> + <p> + Cigole clung to the rail, and instantly shrieked out: + </p> + <p> + “Man overboard!” + </p> + <p> + The startling cry rang through the ship. The captain turned round with a + face of agony. + </p> + <p> + “Man overboard!” shouted Cigole again. “Help! It’s Brandon!” + </p> + <p> + “Brandon!” cried the captain. “He’s lost! O God!” + </p> + <p> + He took up a hen-coop from its fastenings and flung it into the sea, and a + couple of pails after it. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Away went the ship—away, farther, and farther, every moment leaving + at a greater distance the lost man who struggled in the waters. + </p> + <p> + At last they had passed the danger, the island was left behind, and the + wide sea lay all around. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. — SINKING IN DEEP WATERS. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>Java</i> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Never I ween was swimmer + In such an evil case.” + </pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + But now at last, as he descended with that wave, hope came back, and all + his despair vanished. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + In an instant he had comprehended this, and had taken his course of + action. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “HE STAGGERED UP A FEW PACES UPON THE SANDY DECLIVITY."} + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + That shore was at last attained. He staggered up a few paces upon the + sandy declivity, and then fell down exhausted upon the ground. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. — THE MYSTERY OF COFFIN ISLAND. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>Java</i> + might return in search of him, and his confinement would only last for a + day or so. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>Java</i> would not give him up. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + But day succeeded to day and week to week with no appearance of any thing + whatever on the wide ocean. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + {Greek: kateibeto se glukus aion noston oduromeno.} + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + A melancholy smile passed over his face as he thought of what seemed to + him the utter futility of that promise. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + At last there came one storm so tremendous that it exceeded all that + Brandon had ever seen any where. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “—In the crisis of your fate I will be near.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall go mad!” cried Brandon, aloud, and he started to his feet. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “GREAT HEAVENS!” CRIED BRANDON, STARTING BACK—“THE + ‘VISHNU!’”} + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + With all these thoughts in his mind Brandon approached the wreck and at + last stood close beside it. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + VISHN +</pre> + <p> + “Great Heavens!” cried Brandon, starting back—“the <i>Vishnu!</i>” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. — THE DWELLER IN THE SUNKEN SHIP. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Could this be indeed <i>the</i> ship—<i>the Vishnu</i>? By what + marvelous coincidence had he thus fallen upon it? It was in 1828 that the + <i>Vishnu</i> sailed from Calcutta for Manilla. Was it possible for this + vessel to be preserved so long? And if so, how did it get here? + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>Vishnu</i> + of Colonel Despard. + </p> + <p> + The true marvel was that he himself should have been cast ashore here on + the same place where this ship was. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + There still remained another room. Might there not be something there? + </p> + <p> + Brandon went back into the cabin and stood looking at the open doorway of + that other room. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “In the crisis of your fate I will be near.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Brandon drew in new strength and life with every breath, till at last he + began to think once more of returning. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + All superstitious fancy faded away. The thirst for revenge, the sense of + intolerable wrong arose. Fear and horror died out utterly, destroyed by + Vengeance. + </p> + <p> + “The Presence, then, is my ally,” he murmured. “I will go and face It.” + </p> + <p> + And he walked resolutely, with a firm step, back into the cabin. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “THERE SEEMED A GHASTLY COMICALITY IN SUCH A THING AS + THIS,” ETC.} + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “The nightmare Life-in-Death was he, + That thicks men’s blood with cold.” + </pre> + <p> + Brandon stood while his blood ran chill, and his breath came fast. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The sun was high in the heavens, the sea-breeze still blew freshly, while + Brandon, opening the manuscript, began to read. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. — MANUSCRIPT FOUND IN A BOTTLE. + </h2> + <p> + “BRIG ‘VISHNU,’ ADRIFT IN THE CHINESE SEA. + </p> + <p> + “July 10, 1828. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>Vishnu</i>, and especially by my + servant, John Potts. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “To further the ends of justice and to satisfy the desires of my friends, + I will write an account of the whole case. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Just about this time an event occurred which has brought me to this. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “‘What the devil is this?’ I roared fiercely. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “‘You can’t,’ said one voice, which I recognized as Clark’s. ‘He has his + pistols.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘He hasn’t,’ said the voice of Cigole. ‘Potts took them away. He’s + unarmed.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Who are you?’ I cried, grasping the man who was holding the other down. + </p> + <p> + “‘Uracao,’ said he. ‘Get your pistols or you’re lost!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘What the devil is the matter?’ I cried, angrily, for I had not even yet + a suspicion. + </p> + <p> + “‘Feel around your neck,’ said he. + </p> + <p> + “Hastily I put my hand up. A thrill of terror passed through me. It was + the Thuggee cord. + </p> + <p> + “‘Who is this?’ I cried, grasping the man who had fallen. + </p> + <p> + “‘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.’ + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “‘Help! Clark! Quick!’ cried the voice of Potts. ‘This devil’s strangling + me!’ + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “‘Damn him!’ cried Potts, ‘he’s got the pistols.’ + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Along with this manuscript I also inclose the strangling cord. + </p> + <p> + “May God have mercy upon my soul! Amen. + </p> + <p> + “LIONEL DESPARD.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “August 2.—Land visible toward the southwest. It seems like the + summit of a range of mountains, and is probably fifty miles distant. + </p> + <p> + “August 5.—A sail appeared on the horizon. It was too distant to + perceive me. It passed out of sight. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “August 20.—Storms and calms alternating. When will this end? + </p> + <p> + “August 25.—Land again toward the west. It seems as though I may be + drifting among the islands of the Indian Archipelago. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “September 10.—Open water. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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! + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Whoever finds this will take it from my hand, and, in the name of God, I + charge him to do my bidding.” + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “THREE MONTHS ADRIFT."} + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. — THE SIGNAL OF FIRE. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>Vishnu</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “STILL HE STOOD THERE, HOLDING ALOFT HIS SIGNAL."} + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + In a few moments the work was done. + </p> + <p> + It blazed! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Then, exhausted by fatigue, he sank down on the sand and fell into a sound + sleep. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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—?” + </p> + <p> + “One question at a time, mess-mate,” said the other, laughingly. “I’m + Captain Corbet, of the ship <i>Falcon</i>, 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 <i>Falcon</i>, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain waved his hand proudly to where a large, handsome ship lay, + about seven miles away to the south. + </p> + <p> + “On your bow? Did you see the fire <i>ahead</i> of you?” asked Brandon, + who now began to comprehend the situation. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you didn’t pass me toward the north yesterday?” + </p> + <p> + “No; never was near this place before this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “It must have been some other ship, then,” said Brandon, musingly. + </p> + <p> + “But how did you get here, and how long have you been here?” + </p> + <p> + Brandon had long since decided on the part he was to play. His story was + all ready. + </p> + <p> + “My name is Edward Wheeler. I came out supercargo in the brig <i>Argo</i>, + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>Falcon</i>. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. — THE MALAY PIRATE + </h2> + <p> + Two days had passed since Brandon’s rescue. The light wind which had + brought up the <i>Falcon</i> soon died out, and before the island had been + left far behind a calm succeeded, and there was nothing left but to drift. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, all I can say is, if you hadn’t been wrecked, you’d have probably + had your throat cut by that devil.” + </p> + <p> + “Can’t any body catch him?” + </p> + <p> + “They don’t catch him at any rate. Whether they can or not is another + question.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you arms?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder what has become of that other ship that passed me on the + island,” said Brandon, after a pause. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “It must be some poor devils that have escaped from shipwreck,” said the + Captain, half to himself. + </p> + <p> + “Well, fire a gun.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the Captain, cautiously, after a pause. “It may be somebody + else. Wait a bit.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “What?” cried Brandon. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “Zangorri!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + And the men rushed about, some collecting arms, others laboring at the + boat. The <i>Falcon</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “What! you here?” he cried, with unmistakable delight. + </p> + <p> + Brandon’s reply consisted simply in drawing a revolver from his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “You’re a brick!” said the Captain. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Down with him,” yelled the Captain. “It’s Zangorri!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Back,” cried Brandon, fiercely. “Don’t touch him. He’s mine!” + </p> + <p> + “He must die.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Englishman,” said a voice. “I thank you.” + </p> + <p> + Brandon started. + </p> + <p> + It was Zangorri who had spoken; and in very fair English too. + </p> + <p> + “Do you speak English?” was all that he could say in his surprise. + </p> + <p> + “I ought to. I’ve seen enough of them,” growled the other. + </p> + <p> + “You scoundrel!” cried Brandon, “you have nothing to thank me for. You + must die a worse death.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + And the expression of hate that gleamed from the eyes of the Malay was + appalling. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you hate them?” asked Brandon, whose curiosity was excited. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “The man—what man?” + </p> + <p> + “The one whom I have sought for fifteen years through all these seas,” + said the other, hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “What is his name?” + </p> + <p> + “I will not speak it. I had it carved on my creese which hangs around my + neck.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + He looked all around. The sailors were busy with the Captain, who still + lay senseless. No one observed him. He turned to Zangorri. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>Falcon</i>. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + His care soon brought the Hindu to consciousness. + </p> + <p> + The man opened his eyes, looked upon Brandon first with astonishment, then + with speechless gratitude, and clasping his hand moaned faintly, in broken + English. + </p> + <p> + “Bless de Lor! Sahib!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “SHE FLUNG HERSELF ON HER KNEES IN A TRANSPORT OF + GRATITUDE."} “Is any one there?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + A cry of surprise was the sole answer. + </p> + <p> + “You are safe. We are friends. Open!” cried Brandon. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Poor child!” murmured Brandon, in accents of tenderest commiseration. “It + is but little that you could do with that knife.” + </p> + <p> + 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, + </p> + <p> + “It could at least have saved me!” + </p> + <p> + Brandon smiled upon her with such a smile as a father might give at seeing + the spirit or prowess of some idolized son. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I can bear it,” said the girl. “I will not shut my eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + She turned to Brandon with a face of horror, and with white lips asked: + </p> + <p> + “Where are they all?” + </p> + <p> + “Gone,” said Brandon. + </p> + <p> + “What! All?” gasped the girl. + </p> + <p> + “All—except yourself and the cook.” + </p> + <p> + She shuddered from head to foot; at last, coming closer to Brandon, she + whispered: “And my nurse—?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + But suddenly a cry arose from one of the men who stood nearest the + hatchway. + </p> + <p> + “The ship is sinking!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>Falcon</i> + 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. + </p> + <p> + And as he read that service he understood the fate which he had escaped + when the ship passed Coffin Island without noticing his signal. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. — BEATRICE. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “B. A. Treachy,” said the Captain. “Ah! I hope, Miss Treachy, you will + pardon me; but I really found it so everlasting confusing.” + </p> + <p> + A faint smile crossed the lips of Brandon. But Beatrice did not smile. She + looked a little frightened, and then said: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that is only my Christian name!” + </p> + <p> + “Christian name!” said the Captain. “How can that be a Christian name?” + </p> + <p> + “My surname is—” She hesitated, and then, with an effort, pronounced + the word “Potts.” + </p> + <p> + “‘Potts!’” said the Captain, quickly, and with evident surprise. “Oh—well, + I hope you will excuse me.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + For Brandon’s conduct she could imagine only one cause. He had felt + shocked at such a plebeian name. + </p> + <p> + 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 “<i>Mr. + Wheeler</i>.” “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You have been sick,” she said, kindly, and with some emotion. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Brandon smiled, faintly. “You are the one who must forgive.” + </p> + <p> + “But I hate my name so,” burst out Beatrice. + </p> + <p> + Brandon said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you? Now confess.” + </p> + <p> + “How can I—” he began. + </p> + <p> + “You do, you do!” she cried, vehemently; “but I don’t care—for I + hate it.” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + Brandon looked at her appealingly, and said, “You give pain? Believe me! + believe me! there is nothing but happiness where you are.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Do you like music?” asked Brandon, abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Above all things.” said Beatrice, with an intensity of emphasis which + spoke of deep feeling. + </p> + <p> + “Do you play?” + </p> + <p> + “Somewhat.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you sing?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Brandon was silent for a little while. “Langhetti was fond of you?” he + repeated, interrogatively, and in a voice of singular sweetness. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And he loved to hear you sing?” said Brandon, in the same voice. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you sing for me?” asked Brandon, in accents almost of entreaty, + looking at her with an imploring expression. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Brandon understood her tone and gesture. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Would you be willing to sing now?” he asked, gently, and in the same tone + of entreaty which he had used before. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I cieli immensi narrano + Del grand’ Iddio la gloria.” + </pre> + <p> + {Illustration: “SHE GAVE HERSELF ENTIRELY UP TO THE JOY OF SONG."} + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He poured forth these words with passionate impetuosity. Beatrice smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Langhetti used to praise me,” she simply rejoined. + </p> + <p> + “You terrify me,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” asked Beatrice, in wonder. + </p> + <p> + “Because your song works upon me like a spell, and all my soul sinks away, + and all my will is weakened to nothingness.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you expect to see Langhetti when you reach England?” asked Brandon, + abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “I hope so,” said she, musingly. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. — THE IMPROVISATORE. + </h2> + <p> + The character of Beatrice unfolded more and more every day, and every new + development excited the wonder of Brandon. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And you think the art can be learned by every one?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Sing to me about music,” said Brandon, suddenly. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Sing on!” he exclaimed, fervently; “I would wish to stand and hear your + voice forever.” + </p> + <p> + A smile of ineffable sweetness came over her face. She looked at him, and + said nothing. Brandon bowed his head, and stood in silence. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “Has he such a voice?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You must have been fond of such a man.” + </p> + <p> + “Very,” said Beatrice, with the utmost simplicity. “Oh, I loved him so + dearly!” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Was he married?” + </p> + <p> + Beatrice looked at Brandon with a singular smile. “Married! Langhetti + married! Pardon me; but the idea of Langhetti in domestic life is so + ridiculous.” + </p> + <p> + “Why? The greatest musicians have married.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “Langhetti,” said Brandon, in a low voice, “does not understand love, or + he would not put music in its place.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Beatrice. “We spoke once about that. He has his own ideas, + which he expressed to me.” + </p> + <p> + “What were they?” + </p> + <p> + “I will have to say them as he said them,” said she. “For on this theme he + had to express himself in music.” + </p> + <p> + Brandon waited in rapt expectation. Beatrice began to sing: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “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!” + </pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Thus,” she said, “Langhetti sang about it: and I have never forgotten his + words.” + </p> + <p> + The thought came to Brandon, is it not truer than she thinks, that “she + loves him very dearly?” as she said. + </p> + <p> + “You were born to be an artist,” he said, at last. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know that I have a purpose, as you call it?” asked Brandon, + after a pause. + </p> + <p> + “By the expression of your face, and your whole manner when you are alone + and subside into yourself,” she replied, simply. + </p> + <p> + “And of what kind?” he continued. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you think it is, then?” asked Brandon, in a voice which had died + away, almost to a whisper. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “Something stronger than Love, and Avarice, and Ambition,” said she. + “There can be only one thing.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Vengeance!” she said, in a voice of inexpressible mournfulness. + </p> + <p> + Brandon looked at her wonderingly, not knowing how this young girl could + have divined his thoughts. He long remained silent. + </p> + <p> + Beatrice folded her hands together, and looked pensively at the sea. + </p> + <p> + “You are a marvelous being,” said Brandon, at length. “Can you tell me any + more?” + </p> + <p> + “I might,” said she, hesitatingly; “but I am afraid you will think me + impertinent.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Brandon. “Tell me, for perhaps you are mistaken.” + </p> + <p> + “You will not think me impertinent, then? You will only think that I said + so because you asked me?” + </p> + <p> + “I entreat you to believe that it is impossible for me to think otherwise + of you than you yourself would wish.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I say it, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + Her voice again sank to a whisper. “Your name is not Wheeler.” + </p> + <p> + Brandon looked at her earnestly. “How did you learn that?” + </p> + <p> + “By nothing more than observation.” + </p> + <p> + “What is my name?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Brandon smiled on her mournfully as she stood looking at him with her dark + eyes upraised. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “You did not think that one like me could come out of Hong-Kong, did you?” + said she, laughingly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I have seen much of the world; but I have not so much of this power + as you have.” + </p> + <p> + “You might have more if—if—” she hesitated. “Well,” she + continued, “they say, you know, that men act by reason, women by + intuition.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any more intuitions?” asked Brandon, earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said she, mournfully. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me some.” + </p> + <p> + “They will not do to tell,” said Beatrice, in the same mournful tone. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “They are painful.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell them at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Hint at them.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “We have met with ships at sea,” she resumed, in low, deliberate tones. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She spoke mournfully, looking away, her voice insensibly took up a + cadence, and the words seemed to fall of themselves into rhythmic pause. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Beatrice still looked at him, and in her eyes he read pity beyond words; + and sorrow also as deep as that pity. + </p> + <p> + “Do you read my thoughts as I read yours?” asked Brandon, abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered, mournfully. + </p> + <p> + He turned his face away. + </p> + <p> + “Did Langhetti teach you this also?” he asked, at last. + </p> + <p> + “He taught me many things,” was the answer. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + At last they passed the equator, and seemed to have entered the last stage + of their journey. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. — THE STRUGGLE FOR LIFE. + </h2> + <p> + At length the ship came within the latitude of the Guinea coast. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + What most surprised him now was the inaction of the ship’s company. Why + was not something being done? Where was the Captain? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + At last it was done. The last strand of rigging had been cut away. The + ship, disencumbered, slowly righted, and at last rode upright. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Another day and night came and went. Had not the <i>Falcon</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + It now became evident that the ship was doomed. Brandon at once began to + take measures for the safety of the men. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + But how could the boats be put out? How could they live in such a sea? + This was the question to be decided. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + There was a wild shriek—the next moment the black outline of the + long-boat, bottom upward, was seen amidst the foaming billows. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Then he raised his hand and made a peculiar signal to Cato. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “WITHOUT A WORD HE CAUGHT BEATRICE IN HIS ARMS.” ETC.} + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Are you afraid?” said Brandon once, just after they had evaded an + enormous wave. + </p> + <p> + “No!” was the reply, in a calm, sweet voice; “I trust in you.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope your trust may not be vain,” replied Brandon. + </p> + <p> + “You have saved my life so often,” said Beatrice, “that my trust in you + has now become a habit.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled faintly as she spoke. There was something in her tone which + sank deep into his soul. + </p> + <p> + The night passed and morning came. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But can I do nothing? It is hard for me to sit idle while you wear out + your life.” + </p> + <p> + “You can sing,” said Brandon. + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Langhetti’s song,” he said, and turned his face away. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Day thus succeeded to day until the fourth night came, when the wind died + out and a calm spread over the waters. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Beatrice remonstrated. “Do not,” said she, in an imploring tone. “You have + already done too much. Why should you kill yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “The wind has stopped,” answered Brandon. “The calm is treacherous, and no + time ought to be lost.” + </p> + <p> + “But wait till you have rested.” + </p> + <p> + “I have been resting for days.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you not rest during the night and work in the daytime?” + </p> + <p> + “Because the daytime is so frightfully hot that work will be difficult. + Night is the time to work now.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + After a day of exhaustive labor the land was at last reached. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Beatrice had uttered many exclamations of delight at the beauty of this + scene. At length, surprised at Brandon’s silence, she cried, + </p> + <p> + “Why do you not say something? Surely this is a Paradise after the sea!” + </p> + <p> + She looked up with an enthusiastic smile. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Beatrice shrieked and sprang forward. Too late: for the next moment he + fell headlong into the water. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. — THE BADINAGE OF OLD FRIENDS. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I am so glad you have come!” said she. “It is so stupid here, and I + expected you an hour ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if I had only known that!” said Despard. “For, do you know, I have + been dying of ennui.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope that I may be the means of dispelling it.” + </p> + <p> + “As surely so as the sun disperses the clouds.” + </p> + <p> + “You are never at a loss for a compliment.” + </p> + <p> + “Never when I am with you.” + </p> + <p> + These few words were spoken with a smile by each, and a slightly + melodramatic gesture, as though each was conscious of a little + extravagance. + </p> + <p> + “You must be glad to get to your old home,” she resumed. “You lived here + fifteen, no, sixteen years, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Eighteen.” + </p> + <p> + “So it was. I was sixteen when you left.” + </p> + <p> + “Never to see you again till I came back,” said Despard, with some + mournfulness, looking at the floor. + </p> + <p> + “And since then all has changed.” + </p> + <p> + “But I have not,” rejoined Despard, in the same tone. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Thornton said nothing for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + She rose and lifted a book from the table, which she handed to him. He + took it, and read the title out loud. + </p> + <p> + “Christian’s Cross.” + </p> + <p> + A strange expression passed over his face. He looked at her, holding the + book out at arms’-length with feigned consternation. + </p> + <p> + “And do you have the heart to recommend this book to me, Mrs. Thornton?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it’s religious. Religious books are my terror. How could I possibly + open a book like this?” + </p> + <p> + She laughed. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you like me to try to proselytize you?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “If that is the case it will be a place of worship to me.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled away the extravagance of this last remark, and she only shook + her head. + </p> + <p> + “That is a compliment, but it is awfully profane.” + </p> + <p> + “Not profanity; say rather justifiable idolatry.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Singly! Why how else can one read them?” + </p> + <p> + “I always read several at a time.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Thornton laughed at the whimsical idea. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t that a little confusing?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” said Despard, gravely. “Practice enables one to keep all + distinct.” + </p> + <p> + “But what is the good of it?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “The—what?” cried Mrs. Thornton, breathlessly. “What was that?” + </p> + <p> + “The Symbolical Nature of the Mosaic Economy,” said Despard, placidly. + </p> + <p> + “And is the title all your own?” + </p> + <p> + “All my own.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you often have such brilliant fancies?” + </p> + <p> + “No, frankly, not often. I consider that title the one great idea of my + life.” + </p> + <p> + “But do not dwell too much upon that,” said Mrs. Thornton, in a warning + voice. “It might make you conceited.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I conceited?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I like you,” replied Mrs. Thornton, with a slight bow and a wave of + the hand, which she accompanied with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “And I like you,” said Despard, in the same tone. + </p> + <p> + “You could not do less.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m sure,” returned Mrs. Thornton, with the same assumed solemnity, “it + is not for me to say. You must make the proposition.” + </p> + <p> + “We cannot do any thing less than fly together.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think not” + </p> + <p> + “But where?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Free from observation,” said Despard. + </p> + <p> + “Quiet,” rejoined Mrs. Thornton. + </p> + <p> + “Poetic.” + </p> + <p> + “Remote.” + </p> + <p> + “Unfriended.” + </p> + <p> + “Solitary.” + </p> + <p> + “Slow.” + </p> + <p> + “And, best of all, hitherto untried.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, its novelty is undeniable.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Economy.” + </p> + <p> + “But Cosmogony is better. Allow me to suggest it by way of a change.” + </p> + <p> + “It must be so, since you say it; but I have a weakness for the word + Economy. It is derived from the Greek—” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I am thoroughly ashamed of myself, and you may consider that a tacit + apology is going on within my mind whenever I see you.” + </p> + <p> + “You are forgiven,” said Mrs. Thornton. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I see I shall have to devote all the rest of my life to making + apologies.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “How do you like your new quarters?” he asked, as they sat down. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Thornton relapsed into his abstraction while Despard was speaking, who + directed the remainder of his conversation to Mrs. Thornton. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>gauger</i> or <i>guager</i>. 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. + </p> + <p> + Thornton, at this, looked away, with the smile of a man who is talking + unintelligible things to a child. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” said she, “is the little book you lent me; I ought to have sent + it, but I thought you would come for it.” + </p> + <p> + “And so I will,” said he, “some day.” + </p> + <p> + “Come for it to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you be at home?” + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “MRS. THORNTON, WALKING TO THE WINDOW, LOOKED OUT."} + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then of course I’ll come. And now I must tear myself away. Good-night!” + </p> + <p> + On the following day, at about two o’clock, Despard called again. Mrs. + Thornton had been writing, and the desk was strewn with papers. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And how is Paolo?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + And she held up her hands with a pretty gesture of horror. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Dust never before took so fair a form,” he said, and sat down, looking on + the floor. + </p> + <p> + “For unfailing power of compliment, for an unending supply of neat and + pretty speeches, commend me to the Rev. Courtenay Despard.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet, singularly enough, no one else ever dreamed that of me.” + </p> + <p> + “You were always so.” + </p> + <p> + “With you.” + </p> + <p> + “In the old days.” + </p> + <p> + “Now lost forever.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “And were your thoughts fixed on nothing better than that?” + </p> + <p> + “I was engaged in worship,” was the reply, with marked emphasis. + </p> + <p> + “I must take another book next time.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not. You will only force me to study another pattern.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Thornton laughed lightly, and Despard looked at her with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And why?” + </p> + <p> + “For the purpose of perfect religious seclusion.” + </p> + <p> + Despard looked at her earnestly for a moment. Then his usual smile broke + out. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And would that be a help to a religious life?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very much, indeed!” said Mrs. Thornton, with a strange, sad look. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “There are very dark clouds about,” returned Despard, mournfully. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us pray that there may be calm and peace,” said Despard. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. — TWO LETTERS. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + It was as follows: + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “BOTH WERE LOOKING OUT UPON THE SETTING SUN."} + </p> + <p> + “DEAR MR. DESPARD,—I suppose I may <i>never</i> 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, + </p> + <p> + “Yours sincerely, + </p> + <p> + “TERESA THORNTON. + </p> + <p> + “THORNTON GRANGE, Friday.” + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “HALIFAX, NOVA SCOTIA, January 12, 1847. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “He took passage early in June last in the ship <i>Tecumseh</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + “The <i>Tecumseh</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + “The mortality was terrific. Of all the ships that came to Quebec on that + fatal summer the <i>Tecumseh</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + “Among the passengers on the <i>Tecumseh</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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! + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Your affectionate uncle, + </p> + <p> + “HENRY DESPARD.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + On entering the drawing-room, Mrs. Thornton was there. + </p> + <p> + “So you have come at last,” said she, as they shook hands. + </p> + <p> + “As if I would not come ten times a day if I could,” was the answer, in an + impetuous voice. + </p> + <p> + “Still there is no reason why you should persistently avoid the Grange.” + </p> + <p> + “What would you say if I followed my own impulse, and came here every + day?” + </p> + <p> + “I would say, Good-morning, Sir. Still, now that you are here, you must + stay.” + </p> + <p> + “I will stay, whether I must or not.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you recovered from the effect of my prayer-book yet?” + </p> + <p> + “No, nor ever will I. You brought the same one last Sunday.” + </p> + <p> + “That was in order to weaken the effect. Familiarity breeds contempt, you + know.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Cosmogony, you mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, Cosmogony.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid to pronounce it.” + </p> + <p> + “Try, at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And what would be the difference? Your motive would be right, and it is + to motives that we must look, not acts.” + </p> + <p> + After some further badinage, Mrs. Thornton drew a letter from her pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” said she, gravely, “is Paolo’s letter. Read it, and tell me what + you think of it.” + </p> + <p> + Despard took the letter and began to read, while Mrs. Thornton, sitting + opposite to him, watched his face. + </p> + <p> + The letter was in Italian, and was accompanied by a large and + closely-written manuscript of many pages. + </p> + <p> + “HALIFAX, NOVA SCOTIA, January 2, 1847. + </p> + <p> + “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! + </p> + <p> + “Read this manuscript carefully, Teresuola mia dolcissima, and pray for + the souls of those unhappy ones who perished by the pestilence.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. — JOURNAL OF PAOLO LANGHETTI. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + I have taken passage in the ship <i>Tecumseh</i> 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear Madame,” said I, “I wish no other reward than the consciousness that + I may have alleviated your distress.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever live in Holby?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. My father was organist in Trinity Church, and I and my sister lived + there some years. She lives there still.” + </p> + <p> + “My God!” was her ejaculation. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” I asked, with eager curiosity. “What do you know about Holby, and + about Langhetti?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + July 3.—The disease is spreading. Fifteen are prostrate. Three have + died. + </p> + <p> + July 10.—Thirty deaths have occurred, and fifty are sick. I am + assisting to nurse them. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + August 10.—Mrs. Brandon and Edith both sick. Frank prostrate again. + God in heaven, have mercy! + </p> + <p> + August 15.—Mrs. Brandon and Edith very low. Frank better. + </p> + <p> + August 16.—Quarantine Station, Gosse Island. I feel the fever in my + veins. If I die, farewell, sweetest sister. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + My last entry was made on the day of the arrival of the <i>Tecumseh</i> 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 <i>Tecumseh</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at me for a moment in solemn silence, and, slowly raising her + hand, pointed upward. + </p> + <p> + “Your brother?” I gasped. + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “Where else can I go?” she answered, mournfully. + </p> + <p> + “At least, you should not wear yourself out by my bedside.” + </p> + <p> + “You are the only one left whom I know. I owe you far more than the small + attendance which I have given you.” + </p> + <p> + “But will you not take some rest?” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Wait till you are stronger. You are too weak now to think of these + things.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What is it? Tell, in God’s name!” + </p> + <p> + “The dead-house,” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Where is it? Take me there!” I cried to the woman. I clutched her arm and + staggered after her. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + All the bodies were gone. New ones had come in. + </p> + <p> + “Where is she?” I cried to the old woman who had charge there. She knew to + whom I referred. + </p> + <p> + “Buried,” said she. + </p> + <p> + 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! <i>She + is not dead!</i>” + </p> + <p> + 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. <i>These two revived.</i> 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?” + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “How long had she been in that house before I fainted?” I asked, + fearfully. + </p> + <p> + “Twenty-four hours.” + </p> + <p> + “And when did I faint?” + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + A pang shot through me. “Tell me,” I cried, hoarsely, “when she was + buried.” + </p> + <p> + “Last night.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + “Do you know where they have laid her?” I asked, tremblingly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the woman, confidently. + </p> + <p> + Hope returned faintly. She led the way. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “And where—where, O God, is SHE!” + </p> + <p> + “There,” replied the woman, pointing to one which was the third from the + end. + </p> + <p> + “Do not deceive me!” I cried, imploringly. “Are you sure? For I will tear + up all these till I find her.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure, for I was the one who buried her. I and a man—” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Edith!” I cried, “I am here! I am coming! I am coming!” + </p> + <p> + “Come, Sir,” said the woman, suddenly, in her strong voice, yet pityingly. + “You can do nothing. I will dig her out in a minute.” + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “I TOOK HER IN MY ARMS AND BROUGHT HER FORTH FROM THE + GRAVE,” ETC.} + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + I took her in my arms and brought her forth from the grave into the life + of earth. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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—” + </p> + <p> + “No, there is none but what is crowded with the sick and dying in all this + island.” + </p> + <p> + “I must have some place.” + </p> + <p> + “There is only one spot that is quiet.” + </p> + <p> + “What one?” + </p> + <p> + “The dead-house.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she said, hesitatingly, “I have the room where me and my man live. + I suppose we could give up that.” + </p> + <p> + “Take me there, then.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I help you carry her?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” I answered, drawing back my pure Edith from her outstretched hands. + “No, I will carry her.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Come here,” said I, “three times a day. I will pay you well for this.” + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “She is dead!” he cried, in mingled fear and anger—“and she must be + buried.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He started back—he and those who were with him. “The man is mad,” + they said. + </p> + <p> + They left me in peace. I grow excited as I write. My hand trembles. Let me + be calm. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + As she spoke thus the anguish which I had felt at the grave was renewed. + “You have brought me back,” said she, mournfully. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I know all,” she murmured, closing her eyes. “I heard all while my spirit + was away. I know where you found me.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “See,” I whispered—“but for me she would have been BURIED ALIVE!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Spare me,” he faltered; “do not ruin me. God knows I have tried to do my + best!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + I have told you what she was before this. Subsequently there came a + change. The nurses and the doctors called it a stupor. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + For she can not tell what she witnessed <i>there</i>. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>the grave</i>. 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. + </p> + <p> + His regiment was ordered to Halifax, and I concluded to comply with his + urgent solicitations and accompany him. It is better for <i>her</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. — HUSBAND AND WIFE. + </h2> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You are calm,” said Mrs. Thornton. “Have you nothing more to say than + that?” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “But something must be done,” said Mrs. Thornton, impetuously. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you believe it.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course; but I did not know that you would.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “No one but you would read Paolo’s diary without thinking him insane.” + </p> + <p> + Despard smiled. “Even that would be nothing to me. Some people think that + a great genius must be insane. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Great wits are sure to madness near allied,’ +</pre> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + When Thornton came in to dinner Despard handed him his uncle’s letter. The + lawyer read it with deep attention, and without a word. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “I did not know before that Brandon of Brandon Hall and all his family had + perished so miserably.” + </p> + <p> + Thornton started, and looked at her earnestly. She returned his gaze with + unutterable sadness in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Thornton looked uneasy as his wife spoke. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” said he, “you do not understand.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Set your mind at rest. You never knew any thing about it. I told you + nothing on the subject.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you knew it!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>he</i> not—did + <i>they</i> not in their last moments think of me, and wonder how they + could have been betrayed by Langhetti’s daughter!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, be calm, I pray. You are blaming yourself unjustly, I assure + you.” + </p> + <p> + Despard was ghastly pale as this conversation went on. He turned his face + away. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you see Louis?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw him before that insult to ask if he would apologize.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you try to make him apologize?” asked Mrs. Thornton, coldly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “How else could he have been?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, each might have yielded a little. It does not do to be so + inflexible if one would succeed in life.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Mrs. Thornton. “Success must be gained by flexibility. The + martyrs were all inflexible, and they were all unsuccessful.” + </p> + <p> + Thornton looked at his wife hastily. Despard’s hand trembled, and his face + grew paler still with a more livid pallor. + </p> + <p> + “Did you try to do any thing for the ruined son?” + </p> + <p> + “How could I, after that insult?” + </p> + <p> + “Could you not have got him a government office, or purchased a commission + for him in the army?” + </p> + <p> + “He would not have taken it from me.” + </p> + <p> + “You could have co-operated with his mother, and done it in her name.” + </p> + <p> + “I could not enter the house after being insulted.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Had his father a tender heart?” + </p> + <p> + “So tender and affectionate that this sacrifice of his son must have + overwhelmed him with the deepest sorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever after make any advances to any of them?” + </p> + <p> + “No, never. I never went near the house.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever visit any of the county gentry to see if something could be + done?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Mrs. Thornton. “No man has. That was another mistake that the + martyrs made. They would fling themselves against public opinion.” + </p> + <p> + “All men can not be martyrs. Besides, the cases are not analogous.” + </p> + <p> + Thornton spoke calmly and dispassionately. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That does very well for poetry, but not in real life.” + </p> + <p> + “In <i>real life</i>, such as that on board the <i>Tecumseh</i>?” murmured + Mrs. Thornton, with drooping eyelids. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You showed no emotion in particular.” + </p> + <p> + “No; I was careful not to trouble you.” + </p> + <p> + “You were in Berlin three months. Was it at the beginning or end of your + stay?” + </p> + <p> + “At the beginning.” + </p> + <p> + “And you staid?” + </p> + <p> + “I had business which I could not leave.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you have been ruined if you had left?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, no—not exactly ruined, but it would have entailed serious + consequences.” + </p> + <p> + “Would those consequences have been as serious as the <i>Tecumseh</i> + tragedy?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Thornton elevated his eyebrows, and made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “You must have heard about it in March, then?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “THEN, COVERING HER FACE WITH HER HANDS, SHE BURST INTO AN + AGONY OF TEARS."} + </p> + <p> + “Did he make no particular inquiries?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “And you said not a word to me!” + </p> + <p> + “I was afraid of agitating you, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “And therefore you have secured for me unending self-reproach.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so? Surely you are blaming yourself without a shadow of a cause.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Thornton ended her little narrative, to which Despard had listened + with the deepest attention. + </p> + <p> + “Who was Brandon’s friend?” asked Despard. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Did your father not know it?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I can tell you his true name,” said Mr. Thornton. “There is no reason why + you should not know it.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Lionel Despard—your father, and Ralph Brandon’s bosom friend.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing but an overpowering sense of duty could have kept me away so + long,” said he, in a deep, low voice. + </p> + <p> + A few similar commonplaces followed; but with these two the tone of the + voice invested the feeblest commonplaces with some hidden meaning. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “DISTRESSING CASUALTY.—The ship <i>Java</i>, 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° 1’ 22”, E. long. + 105° 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “And I will write to my uncle.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s some mystery about it,” said Despard, thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “FOUNDERED AT SEA.—The ship <i>H. B. Smith</i>, 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 <i>Falcon</i>. The ship <i>Falcon</i> + has now been expected for two months, and it is feared from this that she + may have foundered at sea. The <i>Falcon</i> was on her way from Sydney to + London, and belonged to Messrs. Kingwood, Flaxman, & Co.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. — THE SHADOW OF THE AFRICAN FOREST. + </h2> + <p> + Let us return to the castaways. + </p> + <p> + It was morning on the coast of Africa—Africa the mysterious, the + inhospitable Africa, <i>leonum arida nutrix</i>. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Do not move—you are weak,” she said, as tenderly as a mother to a + sick child. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Beatrice smiled sadly. “It will all come to you in time.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You must sleep,” said she, gently. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not weep,” said she, calmly. “The time for tears may yet come; but it + is not now.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You have sailed over seas,” said she, sadly; “but I was the helpless one, + and you saved me from death.” + </p> + <p> + “And are you—to me—what I thought?” he asked, with painful + vehemence and imploring eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I am your nurse,” said she, with a melancholy smile. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He put his hand in his bosom, as if feeling for some relic. + </p> + <p> + “I have something suspended about my neck,” said he, “which is precious. + Perhaps I shall know what it is after a time.” + </p> + <p> + Then, after a pause, “Was there not a wreck?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and you saved my life.” + </p> + <p> + “Was there not a fight with pirates?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and you saved my life,” said Beatrice again. + </p> + <p> + “I begin to remember,” said Brandon. “How long is it since the wreck took + place?” + </p> + <p> + “It was January 15.” + </p> + <p> + “And what is this?” + </p> + <p> + “February 6. It is about three weeks.” + </p> + <p> + “How did I get away?” + </p> + <p> + “In a boat with me and the servant.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is the servant?” + </p> + <p> + “Away providing for us. You had a sun-stroke. He carried you up here.” + </p> + <p> + “How long have I been in this place?” + </p> + <p> + “A fortnight.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Oh, to burst all links of habit, and to wander far away, + On from island unto island at the gateways of the day!” + </pre> + <p> + In her presence he might find peace, and perpetual rapture in her smile. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “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.” + </pre> + <p> + It was the {Greek: meligaerun opa}, the {Greek: opa kallimon} of the + sirens. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 + “<i>cieli immensi</i>” 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>Falcon</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The 6th of March came, and they left in the ship <i>Juno</i> for London. + </p> + <p> + Now their intercourse was like that of the old days on board the <i>Falcon</i>. + </p> + <p> + “It is like the <i>Falcon</i>,” said Beatrice, on the first evening. “Let + us forget all about the journey over the sea, and our stay on the island.” + </p> + <p> + “I can never forget that I owe my life to you,” said Brandon, vehemently. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>purpose</i> of yours to which you are + devoted.” + </p> + <p> + “You refuse it, then!” cried Brandon, vehemently and reproachfully. + </p> + <p> + Beatrice returned his reproachful gaze with one equally reproachful, and + raising her calm eyes to Heaven, said, in a tremulous voice, + </p> + <p> + “You have no right to say so—least of all to <i>me</i>. 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!” + </p> + <p> + “For evermore!” cried Brandon, in agony. + </p> + <p> + “For evermore!” repeated Beatrice, in equal anguish. + </p> + <p> + “Do you feel very eager to get to England?” asked Brandon, after a long + silence. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I know that there is sorrow for me there.” + </p> + <p> + “If our boat had been destroyed on the shore of that island,” he asked, in + almost an imploring voice, “would you have grieved?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “That,” said Beatrice, with a mournful smile, “is a reproach to me for + watching you.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow we part,” said Beatrice, as she stood with Brandon on the + quarter-deck. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Brandon; “there will be no one to meet you here. I must take + you to your home.” + </p> + <p> + “To my home! You?” cried Beatrice, starting back. “You dare not.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what it is?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not seek to know. I do not ask; but yet I think I know.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet <i>you</i> offer to go?” + </p> + <p> + “I must go. I must see you to the very last.” + </p> + <p> + “Be it so,” said Beatrice, in a solemn voice, “since it is the very last.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Louis Brandon!” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Brandon answered not a word. + </p> + <p> + “Take my hand,” she said, “or I can not go through. This only can give me + strength.” + </p> + <p> + He clasped it tightly in both of his. She drew a long breath, and + continued: + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “I THOUGHT YOU DEAD, AND KNEW THE FULL MEASURE OF + DESPAIR."} + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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, + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Beatrice! Beatrice! how I love you!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “We shall soon be there,” said he; “sing to me for the last time. Sing, + and forget for a moment that we must part.” + </p> + <p> + Then, in a low voice, of soft but penetrating tones, which thrilled + through every fibre of Brandon’s being. Beatrice began to sing: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “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 <i>there</i>!” + </pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>Falcon</i> had + reached Sierra Leone. He communicated to the owners of the <i>Falcon</i> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The carriage drove off. Brandon watched it. “Now farewell. Love, forever,” + he murmured, “and welcome Vengeance!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. — INQUIRIES. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning,” said he, civilly. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “There are two buttons off my coat, and I want to know if you can repair + it for me?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, Sir; certainly. Take off your coat, Sir, and sit down.” + </p> + <p> + “The buttons,” said Brandon, “are a little odd; but if you have not got + any exactly like them, any thing similar will do.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I think we’ll fit you out, Sir. I think we’ll fit you out,” rejoined + the tailor, briskly. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “This is a fine little village,” said Brandon, carelessly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sir; that’s a fact, Sir; that’s just what every body says, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + “What old Hall is that which I saw just outside the village?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Sir, that old Hall is the very best in the whole county. It is + Brandon Hall, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Brandon Hall?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose this village takes the name from the Hall—or is it the + Hall that is named after the village?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, neither, Sir. Both of them were named after the Brandon family.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it an old family? It must be, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “The oldest in the county, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Brandon!” exclaimed the tailor, shaking his head; “Mr. Brandon! There + ain’t no Mr. Brandon now!” + </p> + <p> + “How is that?” + </p> + <p> + “Gone, Sir—ruined—died out.” + </p> + <p> + “Then the man that lives there now is not Mr. Brandon?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing of the kind, Sir! He, Sir! Why he isn’t fit to clean the shoes of + any of the old Brandons!” + </p> + <p> + “Who is he?” + </p> + <p> + “His name, Sir, is Potts.” + </p> + <p> + “Potts! That doesn’t sound like one of your old county names.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Brandon humored him. “How is that?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a long story, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll bet you never heard any thing like this in all your born days.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell it then, by all means.” + </p> + <p> + The tailor jumped down from his seat, went mysteriously to the door, + looked cautiously out, and then returned. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You seem to be afraid of him.” + </p> + <p> + “We’re all afraid of him in the village, and hate him; but I hope to God + he’ll catch it yet!” + </p> + <p> + “How can you be afraid of him? You all say that this is a free country.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, go on.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! impossible!” said Brandon. “Isn’t that some village gossip?” + </p> + <p> + “I wish it was, Sir—but it ain’t. Go ask any man here, and he’ll + tell you the same.” + </p> + <p> + “And what became of the family?” asked Brandon, calmly. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Sir! that is the worst part of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What was it?” + </p> + <p> + “They were all taken to the alms-house.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Did none of the county families do anything?” said Brandon, who at last, + by a violent effort, had regained his composure. + </p> + <p> + “No. They had all been insulted by the old man, so now they let him + suffer.” + </p> + <p> + “Had he no old friends, or even acquaintances?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “A young man?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Was he a relative?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Thornton!” said Brandon, as the name sank into his soul. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; he lived at Holby.” + </p> + <p> + Brandon drew a long breath. + </p> + <p> + “No, Sir; no friends came, whether he had any or not. They were all sick + at the alms-house for weeks.” + </p> + <p> + “And I suppose they all died there?” said Brandon, in a strange, sweet + voice. + </p> + <p> + “No, Sir. They were not so happy.” + </p> + <p> + “What suffering could be greater?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Here was one, Sir, that was, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Sir, the old man died in the alms-house. The others got well. As + soon as they were well enough they went away.” + </p> + <p> + “How did they get away?” + </p> + <p> + “Potts helped them,” replied the tailor, in a peculiar tone. “They went + away from the village.” + </p> + <p> + “Where did they go?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “To America?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + Brandon made no rejoinder. + </p> + <p> + “Bill Potts said they went to Liverpool, and then left for America to make + their fortunes.” + </p> + <p> + “What part of America?” asked Brandon, indifferently. “I never saw or + heard of them.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder what ship they went out in?” + </p> + <p> + “That I can’t say, Sir. Bill Potts kept dark about that. He said one + thing, though, that set us thinking.” + </p> + <p> + “What was that?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, that they went out in an emigrant ship as steerage passengers.” + </p> + <p> + Brandon was silent. + </p> + <p> + “Poor people!” said he at last. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Passing by the inn he walked on till he came to the alms-house. Here he + stood for a while and looked at it. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Leaving the place, he walked directly toward Brandon Hall. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the man, brusquely. + </p> + <p> + “I wish to see him.” + </p> + <p> + “Who shall I say?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hendricks, from America.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + In a short time a man entered. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “YOU ARE, SIR. JOHN POTTS OF POTTS HALL."} + </p> + <p> + Brandon rose and bowed. “Am I addressing Mr. John Potts?” + </p> + <p> + “You are, Sir. John Potts of Potts Hall.” + </p> + <p> + “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: + </p> + <p> + BEAMISH & HENDRICKS, FLOUR MERCHANTS & PROVISION DEALERS, 88 FRONT + STREET, CINCINNATI, OHIO. + </p> + <p> + “I, Sir,” said Brandon, “am Mr. Hendricks, junior partner in Beamish & + Hendricks, and I hope you are quite well.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, thank you,” answered Potts, smiling and sitting down. “I am + happy to see you.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you keep your health, Sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, I do,” said Potts. “A touch of rheumatism at odd times, that’s + all.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Sir, no, Sir, not at all,” said Potts, evidently greatly delighted at + being considered a British nobleman. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Sir John—or is it my lord?” said Brandon, interrogatively, + correcting himself, and looking inquiringly at Potts. + </p> + <p> + “Sir John’ll do,” said Potts. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Sir John. Being in England on business, I came to ask you a few + questions about a matter of some importance to us.” + </p> + <p> + “Proceed, Sir!” said Potts, with great dignity. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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, + </p> + <p> + “And how did you happen to hear of me?” + </p> + <p> + “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: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Potts winked. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I suddenly found my health giving way, and had to come to Europe. + You see what a delicate creature I am!” + </p> + <p> + Potts laughed with intense glee. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! I thought so. You’ll give me that, Sir John, over your own name, + will you?” cried Brandon, in great apparent excitement. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “He would never tell.” + </p> + <p> + “What became of his mother and sister?” + </p> + <p> + “He wouldn’t say.” + </p> + <p> + “All I know,” said Potts, “is this. I got official information that they + all died at Quebec.” + </p> + <p> + Brandon looked suddenly at the floor and gasped. In a moment he had + recovered. + </p> + <p> + “Curse him! then this fellow is an impostor?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Potts, “he must have escaped. It’s possible. There was some + confusion at Quebec about names.” + </p> + <p> + “Then his name may really be Frank Brandon?” + </p> + <p> + “It must be,” said Potts. “Anyhow, the others are all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Are what?” + </p> + <p> + “All right; dead you know. That’s why he don’t like to tell you about + them.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, now, Sir John, could you tell me what you know about this young + man, since you think he must be the same one?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Did they want to go?” + </p> + <p> + “They didn’t seem to have an idea in their heads. They looked and acted + just like three born fools.” + </p> + <p> + “Strange!” + </p> + <p> + “I let a friend of mine see about them, as I had considerable to do, and + he got them a passage.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you paid their way out.” + </p> + <p> + “I did, Sir,” said Potts, with an air of munificence; “but, between you + and me, it didn’t cost much.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think it most have cost a considerable sum.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no! Clark saw to that. Clark got them places as steerage passengers.” + </p> + <p> + “Young Brandon told me once that he came out as cabin passenger.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s his cursed pride. He went out in the steerage, and a devilish hard + time he had too.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he was a little crowded, I think! There were six hundred emigrants on + board the <i>Tecumseh</i>—” + </p> + <p> + “The what?” + </p> + <p> + “The <i>Tecumseh</i>. 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?” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t imagine.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That was very neat,” rejoined Brandon. + </p> + <p> + “They were all sick when they left,” said Potts; “but before they got to + Quebec they were sicker, I’ll bet.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Well, the <i>Tecumseh</i>, 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 <i>Tecumseh</i> 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 <i>Tecumseh’s</i> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “But couldn’t there have been another son?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps this man is the same one.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no. This eldest Brandy is dead.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “When was that?” + </p> + <p> + “Last September.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, then this one must be the other of course!” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt of that, I think,” said Potts, cheerily. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell him so,” said Brandon, “and if he is alive perhaps he’ll come + here.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! ha! ha!” roared Potts. + </p> + <p> + “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? + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The end of it all was that he concluded whatever he did to do it by + himself, with no human being as his confidant. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Ralphe Brandon” + </p> + <p> + Five days afterward Brandon, with his Hindu servant, was sailing out of + the Mersey River on his way to Quebec. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. — THE DEAD ALIVE. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Are you the superintendent?” he asked, bowing courteously. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the clerk. “He is in Quebec just now.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you can give me the information that I want.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I have been sent to inquire after some passengers that came out here last + year.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “What year did they come out in?” asked the clerk. + </p> + <p> + “Last year.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I have heard so.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know the name of the ship?” + </p> + <p> + “The <i>Tecumseh</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “The <i>Tecumseh</i>!” 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 <i>Tecumseh</i> was the worst of all.” + </p> + <p> + Brandon bowed. + </p> + <p> + “The <i>Tecumseh</i>,” continued the clerk, turning over the leaves of the + book as it lay on the desk. “The <i>Tecumseh</i>, 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?” + </p> + <p> + Brandon bowed and advanced to the desk. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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— + </p> + <p> + “<i>Brandon, Elizabeth</i>.” + </p> + <p> + It was his mother. He read on. He soon came to another— + </p> + <p> + “<i>Brandon, Edith</i>.” It was his sister. + </p> + <p> + “Do you find any of the names?” asked the clerk, seeing Brandon turn his + head. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Brandon. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t mind hearing something horrible, then?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + The clerk drew a long breath. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Sir, those letters were written by the late superintendent. The + poor man is now a lunatic. He was here last year. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + The clerk paused. Brandon regarded him steadily for a moment. Then he + turned, and looked earnestly at the book. + </p> + <p> + “The burials were very hastily made.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “And it is now believed that some were buried in a state of trance.” + </p> + <p> + “Buried alive?” + </p> + <p> + “Buried alive!” + </p> + <p> + There was a long silence. Brandon’s eyes were fixed on the book. At last + he pointed to the name of Edith Brandon. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Something of that sort,” replied the clerk. + </p> + <p> + Brandon drew a long breath. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Did they examine the grave?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Who was the woman?” + </p> + <p> + “An old woman that laid them out. She and her husband buried them.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is she now?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know.” + </p> + <p> + “Does she stay here yet?” + </p> + <p> + “No. She left last year.” + </p> + <p> + “What became of the superintendent?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Brandon read on. At last he came to another name. It was simply this: “<i>Brandon</i>.” + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” said Brandon, who could scarcely speak for the + tremendous struggle between hope and despair that was going on within him. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a false entry.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Brandon looked and saw that this was the case. + </p> + <p> + “What was the cause of that?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you mean that this is not an entry of a death at all.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a very natural one,” said Brandon. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>Tecumseh</i>, 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Are there many mistakes in these records?” + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “A STRANGE FEELING PASSED OVER BRANDON. HE STEPPED + FORWARD."} + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Brandon had nothing more to ask. He thanked the clerk and departed. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + NOTICE: + </p> + <p> + Information of any one of the names of “BRANDON,” who came out in the ship + <i>Tecumseh</i> 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: + </p> + <p> + Henry Peters, 22 Place d’Armes. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The stranger turned as he came in and looked at him with his sad eyes + earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said he, in a voice which thrilled through Brandon, “are you Henry + Peters?” + </p> + <p> + A strange feeling passed over Brandon. He stepped forward. + </p> + <p> + “Frank!” he cried, in a broken voice. + </p> + <p> + “Merciful Heavens!” cried the other. “Have you too come up from the dead? + Louis!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. — FRANK’S STORY. + </h2> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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: + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: ^ /|\ {three lines, forming short arrow} + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + R {sans-serif R} +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + {plus sign} } +</pre> + <p> + Louis looked at this with intense excitement. + </p> + <p> + “You have been in New South Wales,” said Frank, “and perhaps know whether + it is true or not that these are brands on convicts?” + </p> + <p> + “It is true, and on convicts of the very worst kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what they mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “They are all false, Frank.” + </p> + <p> + Frank looked up with something like it smile. + </p> + <p> + “No, not all; wait till you hear me through.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>Tecumseh</i>, and gave us for our provisions + some mouldy bread. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.’ + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he die?” asked Louis, in a faltering voice. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + There was a long pause. At last Frank resumed: + </p> + <p> + “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.’ + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Who told you that she died?” asked Louis, with a troubled look. + </p> + <p> + Frank looked at him with a face of horror. + </p> + <p> + “Can you bear what I am going to say?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>buried alive</i>. Who do you think? oh, my brother!” + </p> + <p> + “Speak!” + </p> + <p> + “Edith Brandon was the name he named.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Speak!” + </p> + <p> + “She said only this: ‘When the grave was opened it was found that Edith + Brandon had not been dead when she was buried.’” + </p> + <p> + Louis groaned, and, falling forward, buried his head in both his hands. + </p> + <p> + It was a long time before either of them spoke. At last Louis, without + lifting his head, said: + </p> + <p> + “Go on.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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!’ + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you not think that it might be me?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I heard a threat of Potts about you, and took it for granted that + he would succeed in carrying it out.” + </p> + <p> + “What was the threat?” + </p> + <p> + “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.’” + </p> + <p> + “Well—the notice of my death appeared in the English papers.” + </p> + <p> + Frank looked earnestly at him. + </p> + <p> + “And I accept it, and go under an assumed name.” + </p> + <p> + “So do I. It is better.” + </p> + <p> + “You thought Langhetti alive. Do you think he is?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not think so now.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “The efforts which he made were enough to kill any man without the plague. + He must have died.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Have you the letter and MS.?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me read them.” + </p> + <p> + Louis took the treasures and handed them to Frank. He read them in + silence. + </p> + <p> + “Is Cato with you yet?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “It is well.” + </p> + <p> + “And now, Frank,” said Louis, “you have something at last to live for.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “Vengeance!” cried Louis, with burning eyes. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Death,” said Louis, “is nothing for such crimes as his.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Langhetti must have transformed you,” said Louis, “with his spiritual + ideas.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Name it.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “No—you must have vengeance.” + </p> + <p> + “No; not vengeance.” + </p> + <p> + “What then?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “At any rate you will have a purpose, and your purpose points to the same + result as mine.” + </p> + <p> + “But how is this possible?” said Frank. “He is strong, and we are weak. + What can we do?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “The message from the dead,” said Louis, spreading before Frank that + letter from the treasure-ship which he himself had so often read. + </p> + <p> + “And are you going to try this?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. I must first find out the resources of science.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you Cato yet?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Can he dive?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. — THE DIVING BUSINESS. + </h2> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + BROCKET & CO., CONTRACTORS + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Brocket?” said Brandon, inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sir,” answered the other, descending from his stool and stepping + forward toward Brandon, behind a low table which stood by the desk. + </p> + <p> + “I am told that you undertake contracts for raising sunken vessels?” + </p> + <p> + “We are in that line of business.” + </p> + <p> + “You have to make use of diving apparatus?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand that you have gone into this business to a larger extent + than any one in America?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sir,” said Brocket, modestly. “I think we do the leading business in + that line.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s a good idea of yours,” remarked Mr. Brocket, thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “I came to you to see if you could inform me whether it would be + practicable or not.” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly so,” said Brocket. + </p> + <p> + “Do you work with the diving-bell in your business or with armor?” + </p> + <p> + “With both. We use the diving-bell for stationary purposes; but when it is + necessary to move about we employ armor.” + </p> + <p> + “Is the armor adapted to give a man any freedom of movement?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “An old Dutch vessel! Do you often find vessels that have been sunk so + long ago?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Then this would be a good thing to bear in mind in our pearl enterprise?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “How far down can a diver go in armor? + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “How long can they stay down?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “How with the men in armor?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever been down yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it much harder than other work?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What was that?” + </p> + <p> + Brocket drew a long breath, looked for a moment meditatively at the floor, + and then went on: + </p> + <p> + “Well, there happened to be a wreck of a steamer called the <i>Saladin</i> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>Saladin</i>, came home with my men, and + have never been down myself since.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Brandon of course expressed all the gratitude that so generous an offer + could excite. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Thus the months of May and June passed until at length they were ready to + start. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. — THE ISLET OF SANTA CRUZ. + </h2> + <p> + It was July when Brandon left New York for San Salvador. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The way to the Bahama Isles was easy. They stopped for a while at Nassau, + and then went to San Salvador. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Are there any other islands near this?” asked Brandon of some people whom + he met on landing. + </p> + <p> + “Not very near.” + </p> + <p> + “Which is the nearest?” + </p> + <p> + “San Salvador.” + </p> + <p> + “Are there any others in about this latitude?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there is a small one about twelve leagues east. There are no people + on it though.” + </p> + <p> + “What is its name?” + </p> + <p> + “Santa Cruz.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “It is not down on the charts?” + </p> + <p> + “No. It is only a small islet.” + </p> + <p> + Another confirmation, for the message said plainly an islet, whereas Guahi + was an island. + </p> + <p> + “How large is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, perhaps a mile or a mile and a half long.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there any other island near it?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever been there?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “AN ISLAND COVERED WITH PALM-TREES LAY THERE."} + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Louis pointed toward the northeast. + </p> + <p> + Frank looked. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Louis and Frank exchanged one long look, but said not a word. That look + was an eloquent one. + </p> + <p> + This then was unmistakably the place of their search. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. — THE OCEAN DEPTHS. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + He had seen nothing. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “A dark, sinewy arm emerged from beneath, armed with a + long, keen knife."} + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What is that for?” asked Frank and Louis. + </p> + <p> + “Sharks!” answered Cato, in a terrible tone. + </p> + <p> + At this Louis and Frank exchanged glances. Could they let this devoted + servant thus tempt so terrible a death? + </p> + <p> + “Did you see any sharks?” asked Louis. + </p> + <p> + “No, Sahib.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you fear them, then?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t fear them, Sahib.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you take this knife?” + </p> + <p> + “One may come, Sahib.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Immediately the cause of this became manifest. Just behind him a sharp + black fin appeared cutting the surface of the water. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + He sat down, a hideous figure. Blood covered his tawny face, and the fury + of his rage had not left the features. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Asgeelo’s look was as gloomy as death as he replied, + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “If you saw one now would you attack him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sahib.” + </p> + <p> + Brandon expressed some apprehension, and wished him not to risk his life. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + It was a forest under the sea, and it grew denser at every step. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Stupent ubi undae segne torpescit fretum, +</pre> + <p> + and half expected to hear some voice from the dweller in this place: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Quo pergis audax? Siste proserentem gradum.” + </pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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—” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + He waited. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>Phoenix</i>. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + In a few moments Brandon stood upon the deck of the <i>Phoenix</i>. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “THE MASTS HAD FALLEN AND LAY, ENCUMBERED WITH THE RIGGING, + OVER THE SIDE."} + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + He was within the cabin. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + It was his ancestor himself who was before him. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + His ancestor had summoned him, and he had come. Where was the treasure? + Where? Why could not that figure arise and show him? + </p> + <p> + Such were his thoughts. Yet these thoughts, the result of excitement that + was now a frenzy, soon gave rise to others that were calmer. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <i>They were metallic bars!</i> + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Once more he stooped down. In a sort of fury he grasped a bar in each hand + and raised it up to the light. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + His emotions overcame him. The bars of gold fell down from his trembling + hands. He sank back and leaned against the wall. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Inside was a casket. + </p> + <p> + He tore open the casket. + </p> + <p> + <i>It was filled with jewels!</i> + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + He cast off the weight that was at his waist, which he also fastened to + the line, and let it go. + </p> + <p> + Freed from the weight he rose buoyantly to the top of the water. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Louis smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Heavens!” cried Frank, “can it be?” + </p> + <p> + “Pull up the signal-line and see for yourself,” was the answer. + </p> + <p> + And, as Frank pulled, Louis uttered a cry which made him look up. + </p> + <p> + Louis pointed to the sun. “Good God! what a time I must have been down!” + </p> + <p> + “Time!” said Frank. “Don’t say time—it was eternity!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. — BEATRICE’S JOURNAL + </h2> + <p> + BRANDON HALL + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + Where shall I begin? + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>he</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + I will begin from the time of my arrival here. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>Vishnu</i>, 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I wish to see Mr. Potts,” said I, coldly. + </p> + <p> + My father stared at me. + </p> + <p> + “I’m Mr. Potts,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “I am Beatrice,” said I; “I have just arrived from China.” + </p> + <p> + By this time the driver had opened the door, and I got out and walked up + on the piazza. + </p> + <p> + “Johnnie,” exclaimed my father, “what the devil is the meaning of this?” + </p> + <p> + “Gad, I don’t know,” returned John, with a puff of smoke. + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t you say she was drowned off the African coast?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw so in the newspapers.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t you tell me about the <i>Falcon</i> rescuing her from the pirates, + and then getting wrecked with all on board?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but then there was a girl that escaped.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh ho!” said my father, with a long whistle. “I didn’t know that.” + </p> + <p> + He turned and looked at me hastily, but in deep perplexity. + </p> + <p> + “So you’re the girl, are you?” said he at last. + </p> + <p> + “I am your daughter,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + I saw him look at John, who winked in return. + </p> + <p> + He walked up and down for a few minutes, and at last stopped and looked at + me again. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “You have nothing but your own statement?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “And you may be an impostor. Mind you—I’m a magistrate—and + you’d better be careful.” + </p> + <p> + “You can do what you choose,” said I, coldly. + </p> + <p> + “No, I can’t. In this country a man can’t do what he chooses.” + </p> + <p> + I was silent. + </p> + <p> + “Johnnie,” said my father, “I’ll have to leave her to you. You arrange + it.” + </p> + <p> + John looked at me lazily, still smoking, and for some time said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But do you think this is the party?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s a fact,” said my father. + </p> + <p> + “So I don’t see but you’ve got to take her.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said my father, “if you think so, why all right.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think any thing of the kind,” returned John, snappishly. “I only + think that she’s the party you sent for.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, it’s all the same,” said my father, who then turned to me + again. + </p> + <p> + “If you’re the girl,” he said, “you can get in. Hunt up Mrs. Compton, and + she’ll take charge of you.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + A servant was passing along. “Where is Mrs. Compton?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Somewhere or other, I suppose,” growled the man, and went on. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + He started as I spoke and looked at me in wonder, yet respectfully. + </p> + <p> + “I have just come from China,” said I, “and my father told me to find Mrs. + Compton.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at me for some time without speaking a word. I began to think + that he was imbecile. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “That’s the place,” said he. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I am Mr. Potts’s daughter,” said I; “are you Mrs. Compton?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You look alarmed,” said I, in surprise; “and why? Am I then so + frightful?” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + She started and turned on me her former look of fear. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, door child, what words are these? You speak as if you knew all.” + </p> + <p> + “I know much,” said I, “and I have suffered much.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The next day I spent in my room, occupied with my own sad thoughts. At + about three in the afternoon I saw <i>him</i> 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 <i>him</i> would be sweet. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + I have not seen him since. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Das süsseste Glück für die trauernde Brust, + Nach der schonen Liebe verschwundener Lust, + Sind der Liebe Schmerzen und Klagen.” + </pre> + <p> + I think I had lived this sort of life for three months without seeing + either my father or brother. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + My father turned his eyes, inflamed by anger and strong drink, toward me. + </p> + <p> + “She’s a d——d bad investment,” I heard him say. + </p> + <p> + “I told you so,” said John, who did not deign to look at me; “but you were + determined.” + </p> + <p> + They then sat drinking in silence for some time. + </p> + <p> + “Sold!” said my father, suddenly, with an oath. + </p> + <p> + John made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “I thought the county would take to her. She’s one of their own sort,” my + father muttered. + </p> + <p> + “If it weren’t for you they might,” said John; “but they ain’t overfond of + her dear father.” + </p> + <p> + “But I sent out the <i>invites</i> in her name.” + </p> + <p> + “No go anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought I’d get in with them all right away, hobnob with lords and + baronets, and maybe get knighted on the spot.” + </p> + <p> + John gave a long scream of laughter. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “When did you get these notions in your blessed head?” asked John. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord Potts. Ha, ha, ha!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!’” + </p> + <p> + “She’s the one that’ll give me a lift.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, she ought to be able to do something.” + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “Blest if she don’t look as if she thought herself the Queen,” said John. + </p> + <p> + “It’s the diamonds, Johnnie.” + </p> + <p> + “No it ain’t, it’s the girl herself. I don’t like the way she has of + looking at me and through me.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, that’s the way with that kind. It’s what the lords like.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t like it, then, and I tell you <i>she’s got to be took down!</i>” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Are you not afraid to be kind to me?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + She looked at me piteously. + </p> + <p> + “You are the only one that is kind to me,” I continued. “How have you the + courage?” + </p> + <p> + “I can not help it,” she murmured, “you are so dear to me.” + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>Vishnu</i>? 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + I spoke to her once in a general way about the past. Had she ever been out + of England? I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered, dreamily. + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at me and said not a word. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Has he been with him long?” I continued. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a considerable time,” she said—but I saw that the subject + distressed her, so I changed it. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The porter came out and asked what I wanted. I told him. + </p> + <p> + “You can’t go out,” said he, rudely. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, them’s Potts’s orders—that’s enough, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “He never said so to me,” I replied, mildly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Watched!” said I, wonderingly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—for fear you’d get skittish, and try and do something foolish. + Old Potts is bound to keep you under his thumb.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The Malay was passing out when John called out to him, + </p> + <p> + “Hi, there, Vijal!” + </p> + <p> + Vijal looked carelessly at him. + </p> + <p> + “Here!” cried John, in the tone with which he would have addressed his + dog. + </p> + <p> + Vijal stopped carelessly. + </p> + <p> + “Pick up my hat, and hand it to me.” + </p> + <p> + His hat had fallen down behind him. Vijal stood without moving, and + regarded him with an evil smile. + </p> + <p> + “D—n you, do you hear?” cried John. “Pick up my hat.” + </p> + <p> + But Vijal did not move. + </p> + <p> + “If you don’t, I’ll set the dog on you,” cried John, starting to his feet + in a rage. + </p> + <p> + Still Vijal remained motionless. + </p> + <p> + “Nero!” cried John, furiously, pointing to Vijal, “seize him, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The dog lay motionless. He was dead. Vijal sat down, his arm running + blood, with the knife in his hand, still glaring at John. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Vijal drew back. “Poor Vijal,” said I, “let me stop this blood. I can + dress wounds. How you suffer!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “They’ll kill you.” + </p> + <p> + “Let them,” said I, carelessly; “it would be better than living.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 fête, 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + {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."} + </p> + <p> + “Can you sing?” + </p> + <p> + “Would you like me to do so?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, in a faint imploring voice. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Heavens!—two hours!” he exclaimed. “He’ll kill me for this.” + </p> + <p> + With these words he rushed out of the room. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He turned and left me. I closed the piano forever, and went to my room. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Potts and John.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said I, and I prepared to get ready. + </p> + <p> + “When do they want me?” + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Mrs. Compton, who by this time was crying. + </p> + <p> + “Why are you so agitated?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so? Can any thing be worse?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my dearest! you don’t know—you don’t know.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + On entering the room I walked up a little distance and stood looking at + them. + </p> + <p> + “There, Clark; what do you think of that?” said my father. + </p> + <p> + The name, Clark, at once made known to me who this man was—that old + associate of my father—his assistant on board the <i>Vishnu</i>. Yet + the name did not add one whit to the abhorrence which I felt—my + father was worse even than he. + </p> + <p> + The man Clark looked at me scrutinizingly for some time. + </p> + <p> + “So that’s the gal,” said he, at last. + </p> + <p> + “That’s the gal,” said my father. + </p> + <p> + Clark waved his hand at me. “Turn round sideways,” said he. + </p> + <p> + I looked at him quietly without moving. He repeated the order, but I took + no notice of it. + </p> + <p> + “D—n her!” said he. “Is she deaf?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Turn round!” cried my father, angrily. + </p> + <p> + I turned as he said. “You see,” said he, with a laugh, “she’s been piously + brought up; she honors her father.” + </p> + <p> + At this Clark burst into a loud laugh. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + I have got thus far, and will stop here. I have been several days writing + this. I must stop till I am stronger. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. — THE BYZANTINE HYMNISTS. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Wandering like an evil spirit, seeking rest and finding none.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you been to London again?” + </p> + <p> + “Where have I not been?” + </p> + <p> + By this time they had seated themselves. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But did you ever know a lawyer who loved music?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. Law is abhorrent to me. It seems to be a profession that + kills the finer sentiments.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Thornton spoke earnestly as she asked this. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Thornton made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you suppose that she really went there and never came back?” + </p> + <p> + “That is what they say.” + </p> + <p> + “Then they must believe that she is kept there.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, so they do.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do they not take some steps in the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That does not sound like imprisonment.” + </p> + <p> + “The caged bird sings.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you think she is a prisoner?” + </p> + <p> + “I think it odd that she has never come out, not even to go to church.” + </p> + <p> + “It is odd.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + There was a long silence. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And you can go back to your Byzantine poets.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if you will assist me.” + </p> + <p> + “You know I shall only be too happy.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “How—in Greek? You must teach me the alphabet then.” + </p> + <p> + “No; I will translate them for you. The Greek hymns are all in rhythmical + prose, like the <i>Te Deum</i> and the <i>Gloria</i>. 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. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>Te Deum</i> 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Whenever you are ready to lead me into that new world of music,” said + she, “I am ready to follow.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you willing to begin next Monday?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. All my time is my own.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I will come for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I will be waiting for you. By-the-way, are you engaged for + to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “No; why?” + </p> + <p> + “There is going to be a fête champêtre. 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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + His voice trembled, and he paused. + </p> + <p> + “You never forget yourself,” said Mrs. Thornton, with slight agitation, + looking away as she spoke. + </p> + <p> + “I will be back at any hour you say.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if your will is not law to me what is? Speak, and your servant + obeys. To stay will only add to my happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let me make you happy by forcing you to stay.” + </p> + <p> + Despard’s face showed his feelings, and to judge by its expression his + language had not been extravagant. + </p> + <p> + 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 fête. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Look at those lights,” exclaimed Mrs. Thornton, suddenly; “what varied + colors!” + </p> + <p> + “Let us walk into that grotto,” said Despard, turning toward a cool, dark + place which lay before them. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Then they rose and walked back. Entering the principal path a great crowd + streamed on which they had to face. + </p> + <p> + Despard sighed. “You and I,” said he, stooping low and speaking in a sad + voice, “are compelled to go against the tide.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall we turn back and go with it?” + </p> + <p> + “We can not.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you wish to turn aside?” + </p> + <p> + “We can not. We must walk against the tide, and against the rush of men. + If we turn aside there is nothing but darkness.” + </p> + <p> + They walked on in silence till they reached the gate. + </p> + <p> + “The carriage has not come,” said Mrs. Thornton. + </p> + <p> + “Do you prefer riding?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not far. Will you walk?” + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “That’s because I am so stupid. I have lost my head. I am not capable of a + single coherent idea.” + </p> + <p> + “You are thinking of something else all the time.” + </p> + <p> + “My brain is in a whirl. Yes, I am thinking of something else.” + </p> + <p> + “Of what?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid to say.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Will you not come in?” + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you,” said he, dreamily. “It is rather too late, and I must go. + Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You will not forget the music?” said he. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night,” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I’m only going to do a little shopping.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m sure I wish that I could accompany you to protect you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, why not?” + </p> + <p> + “On the whole, I think that shopping is not my forte, and that my presence + would not be essential.” + </p> + <p> + 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 + fête. “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to say, Sir, that you expect me to come alone?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not hope for any thing else.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course, you must call for me. If you do not I won’t go.” + </p> + <p> + Despard’s eyes brightened. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, then, since you allow me so sweet a privilege, I will go and + accompany you.” + </p> + <p> + “If you fail me I will stay at home,” said she, laughingly. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>commonplace</i>. + That much I deem it my duty to inform you. + </p> + <p> + “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, + </p> + <p> + “T.T.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: AND THEIR BLENDED STRAINS BORE ALOFT THE SUBLIMEST OF + UTTERANCES, ‘CHRIST IS ARISEN’} + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + As Despard rose from the organ Mrs. Thornton looked at him with moistened + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know whether your song brings calm or unrest,” said she, sadly, + “but after singing it I would wish to die.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “May such a time ever be?” murmured she. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Despard’s whole frame trembled. “Will you sing the <i>Ave Maria</i>?” 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.” + </p> + <p> + His voice faltered. + </p> + <p> + “Sing,” he said, after a time. + </p> + <p> + “I can not” + </p> + <p> + Despard sighed. “Perhaps it is better not; for I feel as though, if you + were to sing it, my heart would break.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you believe that hearts can break?” she asked gently, but with + indescribable pathos. + </p> + <p> + Despard looked at her mournfully, and said not a word. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI. — CLASPED HANDS. + </h2> + <p> + Their singing went on. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The next time that they met she gave him a note in response. + </p> + <p> + “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? + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you have given up visiting the Grange forever. I don’t call + your coming to take me to the church <i>visits</i>. 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. + </p> + <p> + “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 + </p> + <p> + “Yours, despondingly, + </p> + <p> + “T. T.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “How is it under our control + To love or not to love?” + </pre> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “What she felt the while + Dare he think?” + </pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + At last a stronger effort broke the silence. + </p> + <p> + “Teresa!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “Courtenay!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + At length Mrs. Thornton rose. “Lama,” said she, at last, in a low, sad + voice, “let us go to the piano.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you sing the <i>Ave Maria</i>” he asked, mournfully. + </p> + <p> + “I dare not,” said she, hastily. “No, anything but that. I will sing + Rossini’s <i>Cujus Animam</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Then followed those words which tell in lofty strains of a broken heart: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Cujus animam gementem + Contristatam et flebentem + Pertransivit gladius! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII. — JOURNAL OF PAOLO LANGHETTI. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + His journal was written as before at long intervals, and was as follows: + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + O mater alma Christ! carissima, + Te nunc flagitant devota corda et ora, + Ora pro nobis! +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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. +</pre> + <p> + November 17.—The winter must soon be here again. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + She smiled. It was as if an angel from heaven had smiled on me. Do I not + believe that she is one? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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, + </p> + <p> + “<i>He is not dead!</i>” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>Falcon</i> did not pass the spot where poor Brandon + fell overboard till months had elapsed. + </p> + <p> + 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, + </p> + <p> + “<i>My brother Frank is not dead.</i>” + </p> + <p> + This surprised me as much as the other. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure?” said I, reverently. + </p> + <p> + “I am.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you learn this? All who have inquired say that both of your + brothers are dead.” + </p> + <p> + “They told me,” said she, “many times. <i>They</i> 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.” + </p> + <p> + She spoke solemnly and with mysterious emphasis. I said nothing, for I + knew not what to say. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + This is the idea which she imparted to me, and I have thought of it ever + since. + </p> + <p> + August 23—Great things have happened. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + So I proposed to her to come back and stay with me again. She consented at + once. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + So I fasted and prayed. I took up the words from the holy priesthood, and + I said, as they say: + </p> + <p> + Munda cor meum, ac labia mea, Omnipotens Deus, qui labia Isaiae prophetae, + calculo mundasti ignito! + </p> + <p> + For so Isaiah had been exalted till he heard the language of heaven, the + music of the seraphim. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “I DID NOT MAKE ANY REPLY, BUT TOOK MY CREMONA, AND SOUGHT + TO LIFT UP ALL MY SOUL TO A LEVEL WITH HERS."} + </p> + <p> + She held out her hand to me. I caught it in both of mine, and wet it with + my tears. + </p> + <p> + “Paolo,” said she, in a voice of musical tone; “Paolo, you are already one + of us. You speak our language. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + I said not a word, but knelt; and holding her hand still, I looked up at + her in grateful adoration. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + I have reported to one of those classical themes which, though as old as + civilization, are yet ever new, because they are truth. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + But where can I get a voice that can adequately render my thoughts—<i>our</i> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Patience! perhaps Bice may at last bring her marvelous voice to my aid. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + I sought out a place of solitude in which I might perform undisturbed and + without interruption the theme which I have tried to unfold. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + She was the audience—I was the orchestra—we two were alone. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + It was night. There was not a cloud in the sky. The moon shone with + marvelous lustre. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Ah me! there is one language common to all on earth, and to all in heaven, + and that is music. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + She has heard all this from my Cremona. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes!” + </p> + <p> + We wept together. But we dried our tears and went home, musing on that + “tearless eternity” which lies before us. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “Alleluia!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII. — THIS MUST END. + </h2> + <p> + The note which accompanied Langhetti’s journal was as follows: + </p> + <p> + “HALIFAX, December 18, 1848. + </p> + <p> + “TERESUOLA VIA DOLCISSIMA,—I send you my journal, <i>sorella + carissima</i>. 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. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Teresina mia</i>, I am coming back to England immediately. You may + expect to see me at any time during the next three months. <i>She</i> 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 <i>sorellina</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Never have I heard any voice like hers, my Teresina. God grant that I may + find her! + </p> + <p> + “Expect soon and suddenly to see your most loving brother, + </p> + <p> + “PAOLO.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Thornton showed this note to Despard the next time they met. He had + read the journal in the mean time. + </p> + <p> + “So he is coming back?” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And with this marvelous girl?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “She seems to me like a spirit.” + </p> + <p> + “And to me.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Despard spoke impetuously, but suddenly checked himself. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Lama,” said Mrs. Thornton, with a look of sorrowful sympathy. + </p> + <p> + “You knew all my father’s fate?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Lama.” + </p> + <p> + “And you kept it secret?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Lama. How could I bear to tell you and give you pain?” + </p> + <p> + Her voice trembled as she spoke. Despard looked at her with an + indescribable expression. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And you are going away again?” said Mrs. Thornton, sadly. + </p> + <p> + Despard sighed. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + She gave him one long look of sad reproach. Then tears filled her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “This can not go on forever,” she murmured. “It must come to that at + last!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX. — BEATRICE’S JOURNAL. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever see my mother?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Mrs. Compton, suddenly, “oh, don’t look at me so; don’t look + at me so!” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand you,” said I, slowly. + </p> + <p> + 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. <i>Who am I? What am I? What + am I doing here? What do these people want with me? Why do they guard me?</i> + </p> + <p> + I can write no more. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + I could smile at the idea of any one fearing me, if it were not for the + terrible thoughts that arise within my mind. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Oh Thou who hearest prayer, grant deliverance to the captive! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + March 6.—Not yet! Not yet! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “OH!” CRIED MRS. COMPTON SUDDENLY, “OH, DON’T LOOK AT ME + SO; DON’T LOOK AT ME SO!”} + </p> + <p> + At about ten o’clock Mrs. Compton came into my room, with as frightened a + face as usual. “They want you,” said she. + </p> + <p> + I knew whom she meant. “Must I go?” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Alas, dear child, what can you do? Trust in God. He can save you.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She began to weep. I said no more, but obeyed the command and went down. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + I saw the three men who had been there before. <i>He</i> 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 <i>he</i> said to his son, + </p> + <p> + “She don’t look any fatter, does she, Johnnie?” + </p> + <p> + “She gets enough to eat, any how,” answered John. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Can you dance?” said he, at last, speaking to me abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + I said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you stare so, d—n you?” he cried, looking savagely at me. + </p> + <p> + I looked at the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Come now,” said he. “I sent for you to see if you can dance. Dance!” + </p> + <p> + I stood still. “Dance!” he repeated with an oath. “Do you hear?” + </p> + <p> + “I can not,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you want a partner,” continued he, with a sneer. “Here, Johnnie, + go and help her.” + </p> + <p> + “I’d rather not,” said John. + </p> + <p> + “Clark, you try it—you were always gay,” and he gave a hoarse laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Clark,” cried John. “Now’s your chance.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Clark came up to me and stopped. I did not move. + </p> + <p> + “Curse her!” said he. “I’d as soon dance with a ghost. She looks like one, + any how.” + </p> + <p> + <i>He</i> laughed boisterously. + </p> + <p> + “He’s afraid. He’s getting superstitious!” he cried. “What do you think of + that, Johnnie?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” drawled John, “it’s the first time I ever heard of Clark being + afraid of any thing.” + </p> + <p> + These words seemed to sting Clark to the quick. + </p> + <p> + “Will you dance?” said he, in a hoarse voice. + </p> + <p> + I made no answer. + </p> + <p> + “Curse her! make her dance!” <i>he</i> shouted, starting up from his + chair. “Don’t let her bully you, you fool!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + These words seemed to blast and wither them. Clark shrank back. <i>He</i> + gave a groan, and clutched the arm of his chair. John looked in fear from + one to the other, and stammered with an oath: + </p> + <p> + “She knows all! Mrs. Compton told her.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Colonel Despard has spoken to me from the dead, and told me all,” said I. + “I am appointed to avenge him.” + </p> + <p> + I turned and went out of the room. As I left I heard John’s voice: + </p> + <p> + “If she’s the devil himself, as I believe she is,” he cried, “<i>she’s got + to be took down!</i>” + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX. — SMITHERS & CO. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Have I the honor of addressing Mr. Potts?” said the stranger, in a + peculiarly high, shrill voice. + </p> + <p> + “I’m Mr. Potts,” said the other. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Smithers bowed. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, Sir!” exclaimed Potts, with great surprise. “Then you must do a + larger business than I thought.” + </p> + <p> + “We do a large business,” said Mr. Smithers, thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “And all over the world, you said. Then you must be worth millions.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of course, one can not do a business like ours, that commands money, + without a large capital.” + </p> + <p> + “Are there many who do a larger business than I do?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, of course,” said Potts, hastily: “I knew your business was + enormous, but I thought our dealings with you were considerable.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You have done great service, Sir,” said Potts. “In fact, you have made + the Brandon Bank what it is to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Very much so to me,” replied Potts. “You have always found the money.” + </p> + <p> + “And you, I suppose, have furnished the securities.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and a precious good lot of them you are now holding.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And you don’t know the exact state of our business?” said Potts, in a + tone of disappointment. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You must be one of the largest houses in London,” said Potts, in a tone + of deep admiration. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Strange I never heard of you till two years or so.” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I have heard my Junior speak of them.” + </p> + <p> + “You were in Sydney, were you not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, on my last tour I touched there.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know Compton & Brandon?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Potts. + </p> + <p> + “Are you familiar with the banking business?” asked Smithers, suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, no, not very. I haven’t had much experience; but I’m growing into + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I suppose your directors are good business men?” + </p> + <p> + “Somewhat; but the fact is, I trust a good deal to my cashier.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is he?” + </p> + <p> + “His name is Philips, a very clever man; a first-rate accountant.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s right. Very much indeed depends on the cashier.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a most useful and reliable man.” + </p> + <p> + “Your business appears to be growing, from what I have heard.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you make your money by banking?” asked Potts, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’m sure,” said Potts, “I’m bold enough. I’m enlarging my business + every day in all directions.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s right.” + </p> + <p> + “I control the county now, and hope in another year to do so in a + different way.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m thinking of setting up for Parliament—” + </p> + <p> + “An excellent idea, if it will not injure the business.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’m gradually coming to that, I think,” said Potts. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but not much.” + </p> + <p> + “If you wish any thing of that kind done we will do it for you.” + </p> + <p> + “But I don’t know what are the best investments.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “California?” said Potts; “that ought to pay.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there’s nothing like it. I cleared nearly half a million in a few + months.” + </p> + <p> + “A few months!” cried Potts, opening his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we have agents who keep us well up; and so, you know, we are able to + speculate to the best advantage.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you get the pure gold out of that. There’s nothing like it.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know any chances for speculation there?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, one or two.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you have any objection to let me know?” + </p> + <p> + “Not in the least—it will extend your business. I will ask my Junior + to send you any particulars you may desire.” + </p> + <p> + “This California business must be the best there is, if all I hear is + true.” + </p> + <p> + “You haven’t heard the real truth.” + </p> + <p> + “Haven’t I?” exclaimed Potts, in wonder. “I thought it was exaggerated.” + </p> + <p> + “I could tell you stories far more wonderful than any thing you have + heard.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me!” cried Potts, breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t say so!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you leave?” asked Potts, breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Are the shares taken up?” cried Potts, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “No, not yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, could I obtain some?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I should like exceedingly to take stock. How do the shares sell?” + </p> + <p> + “The price is high, as we wish to confine our shareholders to the richer + classes. We never put it at less than £1000 a share.” + </p> + <p> + “I would take any quantity.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say some may be in the market yet,” said Smithers, calmly. “They + probably sell at a high premium though.” + </p> + <p> + “I’d pay it,” said Potts. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you may write and see; I know nothing about it.” + </p> + <p> + “And if they’re all taken up, what then?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh—then—I really don’t know. Why can’t you organize a company + yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you see, I don’t know anything about the place.” + </p> + <p> + “True; that is a disadvantage. But you might find some people who do + know.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “You’d have to do as I did—give him a share of the business.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there is no doubt that our companies would all be successful since + we have a man on the spot.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Could not your cashier help you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not in any thing of that sort.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I can say nothing about it. My Junior will tell you what chances + there are.” + </p> + <p> + “But while I see you personally I should be glad if you would consent to + give me a chance. Have you any objection?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Still you might mention me.” + </p> + <p> + “I will do so,” said Smithers, and taking out his pocket-book he prepared + to write. + </p> + <p> + “Let me see,” said he, “your Christian name is—what?” + </p> + <p> + “John—John Potts.” + </p> + <p> + “John Potts,” repeated the other, as he wrote it down. + </p> + <p> + Smithers rose. “You may continue to draw on us as before, and any + purchases of stock which you wish will be made.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, Sir, certainly,” said Potts, obsequiously. “Philips!” he + called. + </p> + <p> + Philips came in as timid and as shrinking as usual. + </p> + <p> + “This is Mr. Smithers, the great Smithers of Smithers & Co., Bankers; + he wishes to have a talk with you.” + </p> + <p> + Philips looked at the great man with deep respect and made an awkward bow. + </p> + <p> + “You may come with me to my hotel,” said Smithers; and with a slight bow + to Potts he left the bank, followed by Philips. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + At length he said, abruptly, in a slow, measured voice, “Edgar Lawton!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Smithers eyed him steadfastly. “You see I know you,” said he, after a + time. + </p> + <p> + Philips cast on him an imploring look. + </p> + <p> + “The fact that I know your name,” continued Smithers, “shows also that I + must know something of your history. Do not forget that!” + </p> + <p> + “My—my history?” faltered Philips. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, your history. I know it all, wretched man! I knew your father whom + you ruined, and whose heart you broke.” + </p> + <p> + Philips said not a word, but again turned an imploring face to this man. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “AT THE SOUND OF THIS NAME PHILIPS STARTED FROM HIS CHAIR, + AND STOOD ON HIS FEET TREMBLING."} + </p> + <p> + Philips looked up now in wonder, which was greater than his fear. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” he faltered, “you are Potts’s friend. You got him to start the + bank, and you have advanced him money.” + </p> + <p> + “You are the cashier,” said Smithers, calmly. “Can you tell me how much + the Brandon Bank owes Smithers & Co?” + </p> + <p> + Philips looked at the other and hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Speak!” + </p> + <p> + “Two hundred and eighty-nine thousand pounds.” + </p> + <p> + “And if Smithers & Co. chose to demand payment to-morrow, do you think + the Brandon Bank would be prompt about it?” + </p> + <p> + Philips shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Then you see that the man whom you fear is not so powerful as some + others.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you were his friend?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know who I am?” + </p> + <p> + “Smithers & Co.,” said Philips, wearily. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I merely wished to show you the weakness of the man whom you fear. Shall + I tell you something else?” + </p> + <p> + Philips looked up fearfully. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>Vishnu</i>, 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?” + </p> + <p> + Philips trembled from head to foot. He said not a word, but bowed his head + upon his knees and wept. + </p> + <p> + “Where is she now?” said Smithers, sternly. Philips mechanically raised + his head, and pointed over toward Brandon Hall. + </p> + <p> + “Is she confined against her will?” + </p> + <p> + Philips shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “She stays, then, through love of you?” + </p> + <p> + Philips nodded. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Potts,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “She is treated cruelly,” said Smithers. “They say she is a prisoner?” + </p> + <p> + Philips nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Has she been sick?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “How long?” + </p> + <p> + “Eight months, last year.” + </p> + <p> + “Is she well now?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “How is she?” continued Smithers, after a time. “Has she ever been happy + since she went there?” + </p> + <p> + Philips shook his head slowly and mournfully. + </p> + <p> + “Does her father ever show her any affection?” + </p> + <p> + “Never.” + </p> + <p> + “Does her brother?” + </p> + <p> + “Never.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there any one who does?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Compton.” + </p> + <p> + “Your mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “I will not forget that. No, I will never forget that. Do you think that + she is exposed to any danger?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Potts?” + </p> + <p> + Smithers bowed. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. I sometimes fear so.” + </p> + <p> + “Of what kind?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. Almost any horrible thing may happen in that horrible + place.” + </p> + <p> + A pang of agony shot across the sombre brow of Smithers. He was silent for + a long time. + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever slighted her?” he asked at last. + </p> + <p> + “Never,” cried Philips. “I could worship her—” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + Tears came into Philips’s eyes. He sighed. “Yes,” he said, humbly. + </p> + <p> + “And you are kind to <i>her</i>—that other one?” + </p> + <p> + “I love her as my mother,” said Philips, earnestly. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Philips bowed. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>his daughter</i>. Should any sudden danger impend you must at + once communicate it. You understand?” + </p> + <p> + Philips bowed. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + Philips rose, and, more dead than alive, tottered from the room. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Among them were these, with which the strain ended: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “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 <i>there</i>!” + </pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI. — PAOLO LANGHETTI. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + So the time went on, and the weeks passed, till one day in March Despard + went up as usual. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You do not know him,” said Mrs. Thornton. “It is Paolo!” + </p> + <p> + Despard at once advanced and greeted him with the warmest cordiality. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What! <i>Teresuola mia</i>,” said Langhetti with a fond smile at his + sister. “Were you really not sure, <i>sorellina</i>, that I would come to + see you first of all? Infidel!” and he shook his head at her, playfully. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Langhetti listened with a painful surprise that seemed like positive + anguish. + </p> + <p> + “Then I must go myself. Oh, my Bicina—to what misery have you come—But + do you say that you have been there?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you go to the Hall?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I know the man to be a villain indescribable—” + </p> + <p> + Langhetti thought for a moment, and then said, + </p> + <p> + “True, he is all that, and perhaps more than you imagine.” + </p> + <p> + “I have done the utmost that can be done!” said Despard. + </p> + <p> + “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, <i>Bicina cara!</i> to think of her sweet and + gentle nature being subject to such torments as those ruffians can + inflict! + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand,” said Despard, in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” cried Despard, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “A woman named Compton.” + </p> + <p> + “Compton!” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + And Langhetti stretched out his long, slender hand, as though he were + plucking out the very heart of some imaginary enemy. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Is the secret of so much importance?” asked Despard. + </p> + <p> + Langhetti looked at him with mournful meaning. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps Mr. Thornton can assist you,” said Despard. + </p> + <p> + Langhetti shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Thornton looked at Despard, but he avoided her glance. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Langhetti, “I will ask assistance from another—from you, + Despard. You are one who acts as I act. Come with me.” + </p> + <p> + “When?” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow morning.” + </p> + <p> + “I will.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I will do exactly what you say. You can think and I will act.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But I must go out. I must think,” he continued. “I will go and walk about + the grounds.” + </p> + <p> + Saying this he left the room. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Edith Brandon?” asked Despard, after he had gone. + </p> + <p> + “She is here,” said Mrs. Thornton. + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen her?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Is she what you anticipated?” + </p> + <p> + “More. She is incredible. She is almost unearthly. I feel awe of her, but + not fear. She is too sweet to inspire fear.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII. — FLIGHT. + </h2> + <p> + The last entry in Beatrice’s journal was made by her in the hope that it + might be the last. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + She went back, controlling her excitement as best she might. At last, + after a long, long suspense, midnight sounded. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + She took the key in her hands, which trembled violently with excitement, + and turned it in the lock. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + She could do nothing, therefore, but wait. They came nearer, and at last + reached the door. + </p> + <p> + “Hallo!” said one, as he turned the key. “It’s been unlocked!” + </p> + <p> + “It hain’t been locked yet,” said the other. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it has. I locked it myself an hour ago. Who could have been here?” + </p> + <p> + “Any one,” said the other, quietly. “Our blessed young master has, no + doubt, been out this way.” + </p> + <p> + “No, he hasn’t. He hasn’t stirred from his whisky since eight o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! You’re making a fuss about nothing. Lock the door and come + along.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + And saying this, the man locked the door and took out the key. Both of + them then descended to the servants’ hall. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + There was no key in it. It was locked. Escape by that way was impossible. + </p> + <p> + She stood despairing. Only one way was now left, and that lay through the + hall-door itself. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Potts!” he exclaimed, in surprise. + </p> + <p> + It was the voice of Philips. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Philips stood like one paralyzed. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be cast down,” he said at last, in a trembling voice. “You have + friends, powerful friends. They will save you.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” asked Beatrice, in wonder. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” said Philips, mysteriously. “It will be all right. I dare + not tell. But cheer up.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by friends?” + </p> + <p> + “You have friends who are more powerful than your enemies, that’s all,” + said Philips, hurriedly. “Cheer up.” + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>him</i>? 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. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand,” said she, at last; “but I hope it may be as you say. + God knows, I need friends!” + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>her</i>. + </p> + <p> + “How could she have found it out?” said Clark. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Compton only knows <i>one thing</i>,” said Potts, “and that is <i>the + secret about her</i>. She knows nothing more. How could she?” + </p> + <p> + “Then how could that cursed girl have found out about the Thug business?” + exclaimed John. + </p> + <p> + There was no reply. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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— + </p> + <p> + “We’ll have to begin to-morrow and take her down—that’s a fact.” + This was followed by silence. + </p> + <p> + Beatrice reached the door. She turned the knob. Oh, joy! it was not + locked. It opened. + </p> + <p> + Noiselessly she passed through; noiselessly she shut it behind her. She + was outside. She was free. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “ONWARD SHE SPED, AND STILL ONWARD, THROUGH THE DENSE + UNDERBRUSH."} + </p> + <p> + At last, through utter weakness and weariness, she sank down. Despair came + over her. She could do no more. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + At last a strong hand seized her by the shoulder, and she sank down upon + the moss that lay under the forest trees. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you?” cried a familiar voice. + </p> + <p> + “Vijal!” cried Beatrice. + </p> + <p> + The other let go his hold. + </p> + <p> + “Will you betray me?” cried Beatrice, in a mournful and despairing voice. + </p> + <p> + Vijal was silent. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want?” said he, at last. “Whatever you want to do I will help + you. I will be your slave.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish to escape.” + </p> + <p> + “Come then—you shall escape,” said Vijal. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He raised her up. She clambered to the top, where she rested for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, Vijal, and good-by!” said she. + </p> + <p> + Vijal said nothing. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIII. — “PICKED UP ADRIFT.” + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Look, Langhetti,” said the one who was driving, pointing with his whip to + an object in the road directly in front of them. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + They drove on, and as they met the woman Despard stopped. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Bice! Alas, my Bicina!” he cried, and a thousand fond words came to + his lips. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What can we do?” + </p> + <p> + “Let us put her in the carriage between us, and drive back instantly.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Then he resumed his place in the carriage. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I can not solve it,” said Langhetti, “and therefore I will not tell it.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell it, whatever it is.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it is only conjecture as yet, and I will not utter it.” + </p> + <p> + “And it affects me?” + </p> + <p> + “Deeply.” + </p> + <p> + “Therefore tell it.” + </p> + <p> + “Therefore I must not tell it; for if it prove baseless I shall only + excite your feeling in vain.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Despard,” said Langhetti. “Not now. The time may come, but it has not + yet.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “HE LEAPED FROM THE CARRIAGE TOWARD HER, AND CAUGHT HER IN + HIS ARMS."} + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I saw that in her face,” said Despard, “which I hardly dare acknowledge + to myself.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Langhetti spoke with a wild and vehement urgency which was wonderful. + </p> + <p> + “Do you not see,” said Despard, “that you rouse my curiosity to an + intolerable degree?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And am I her medical attendant?” asked Despard. + </p> + <p> + “No; that is not necessary. You are her guardian—the Rector of + Holby, of course—your name is sufficient guarantee.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Despard, after a pause, “I’ll tell you something better yet. I + am her brother and she is my sister—Miss Despard.” + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “My sick sister—my sister Beatrice.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “She is not one of that brood,” said he, after a pause. “It is in name + only that she belongs to them.” + </p> + <p> + “They are fiends and she is an angel,” said Langhetti. + </p> + <p> + “Heaven has sent her to us; we most preserve her forever.” + </p> + <p> + “If she lives,” said Langhetti, “she must never go back.” + </p> + <p> + “Go back!” cried Despard. “Better far for her to die.” + </p> + <p> + “I myself would die rather than give her up.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “And surely,” continued Despard, looking tenderly down, “surely, of all + the Despard race there was never one so beautiful and so pure as she.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + At last they reached Holby. They drove at once to Thornton Grange. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I have found Bice,” said Langhetti, “and have brought her here.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is she?” + </p> + <p> + “There,” said Langhetti. “I give her to your care—it is for you to + give her back to me.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIV. — ON THE TRACK. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + That evening Potts and his two companions dined in moody silence, only + conversing by fits and starts. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “If she’s got off she’s taken with her some secrets that won’t do us any + good,” remarked John. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s my opinion,” exclaimed John, “that she’s in the grounds yet.” + </p> + <p> + Potts shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Potts rose to his feet, plunged his hands deep into his pockets, and + walked up and down. The others sat in gloomy silence. + </p> + <p> + “Could that Hong Kong nurse of hers have told her any thing?” asked John. + </p> + <p> + “She didn’t know any thing to tell.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Compton must have blown, then.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, the mischief’s done now.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re not going to give up the search, are you?” asked Clark. + </p> + <p> + “Give it up! Not I.” + </p> + <p> + “We must get her back.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; our only safety now is in catching her again at all hazards.” + </p> + <p> + There was a long silence. + </p> + <p> + “Twenty years ago,” said Potts, moodily, “the <i>Vishnu</i> drifted away, + and since the time of the trial no one has mentioned it to me till that + girl did.” + </p> + <p> + “And she is only twenty years old,” rejoined John. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “She must know every thing that we have done,” said Clark. + </p> + <p> + “Of course she must.” + </p> + <p> + “Including our Brandon enterprise,” said John. + </p> + <p> + “And including your penmanship.” said Clark; “enough, lad, to stretch a + neck.” + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said Potts, “don’t let us talk of this, any how.” + </p> + <p> + Again they relapsed into silence. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” exclaimed John, at last, “what are you going to do to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “Chase her till I find her,” replied Potts, savagely. + </p> + <p> + “But where?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve been thinking of a plan which seems to me to be about the thing.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “A good old plan,” said Potts. “Your pup, Johnnie, can help us.” + </p> + <p> + John pounded his fist on the table with savage exultation. + </p> + <p> + “My blood-hound! Good, old Dad, what a trump you are to think of that!” + </p> + <p> + “He’ll do it!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What’s this?” said Potts. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “WHY, DON’T YOU SEE? SHE’S GOT OVER THE WALL SOMEHOW."} + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Gad!” said John, who felt fatigued first, “what a walker she is!” + </p> + <p> + “She’s the devil!” growled Clark, savagely. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Sold!” cried John, with a curse. + </p> + <p> + “What can have become of her?” said Potts. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what luck, dad?” asked John. + </p> + <p> + “There’s the devil to pay,” growled Potts. + </p> + <p> + “Did you find her?” + </p> + <p> + “There is a girl at the next inn, and it’s her. Now what name do you think + they call her by?” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Despard.” + </p> + <p> + Clark turned pale and looked at John, who gave a long, low whistle. + </p> + <p> + “Is she alone?” asked John. + </p> + <p> + “No—that’s the worst of it. A reverend gent is with her, who has + charge of her, and says he is her brother.” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” + </p> + <p> + “His name is Courtenay Despard, son of Colonel Lionel Despard,” said + Potts. + </p> + <p> + The others returned his look in utter bewilderment. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me that this is like the beginning of one of those monsoon + storms,” said Clark, gloomily. + </p> + <p> + The others said nothing. In a short time they were on their way back, + moody and silent. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXV. — BEATRICE’S RECOVERY. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You are among friends,” said she, in a low, sweet voice. “You have been + sick long.” + </p> + <p> + “Where am I?” + </p> + <p> + “Among loving friends,” said the other, “far away from the place where you + suffered.” + </p> + <p> + Beatrice sighed. + </p> + <p> + “I hoped that I had passed away forever,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And who are you?” asked Beatrice, after a long and anxious look at the + face of the speaker. + </p> + <p> + “My name is Edith Brandon,” said the other, gently. + </p> + <p> + “Brandon!—Edith Brandon!” cried Beatrice, with a vehemence which + contrasted strangely with the scarce-audible words with which she had just + spoken. + </p> + <p> + The stranger smiled with the same melancholy sweetness which she had shown + before. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said she; “but do not agitate yourself, dearest.” + </p> + <p> + “And have you nursed me?” + </p> + <p> + “Partly. But you are in the house of one who is like an angel in her + loving care of you.” + </p> + <p> + “But you—you?” persisted Beatrice; “you did not perish, then, as + they said?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied the stranger; “it was not permitted me.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank God!” murmured Beatrice, fervently. “<i>He</i> has one sorrow less. + Did <i>he</i> save you?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Langhetti!” said Beatrice. “Oh, God be thanked!” + </p> + <p> + “And she who has taken you to her heart and home is his sister.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Edith turned away and walked to one of the windows, where she looked out + pensively upon the sea. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “AS BEATRICE OPENED HER EYES AFTER HER LONG UNCONSCIOUSNESS + SHE LOOKED AROUND IN WONDER."} + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>his</i> sister would of itself have won her heart; + but there were other things about her which affected her strangely. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + She once questioned Mrs. Thornton, but received no satisfaction. Mrs. + Thornton looked mysterious, but shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Your brother treats her like a divinity.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose he thinks she is something more than mortal.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you have that awe of her which I feel?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and so does every one. I feel toward her as though she belonged to + another world. She takes no interest in this.” + </p> + <p> + “She nursed me.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + During these weeks Paolo made known to her his plans. She embraced them + eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Thornton and Despard stood apart, the recipients of the sublime + effects and holy emotions which the others wrought out within them. + </p> + <p> + Edith was like the soul. + </p> + <p> + Langhetti like the mind. + </p> + <p> + Beatrice resembled the material element by which the spiritual is + communicated to man. Hers was the Voice which spoke. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>artiste</i>. Langhetti wished her to take his name, but + Despard showed an extraordinary pertinacity on this point. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it, then, that you do consider?” + </p> + <p> + “Other things.” + </p> + <p> + “What other things?” + </p> + <p> + “Not connected with Art,” continued Langhetti, evasively. “I will tell you + some day when the time comes.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not time yet.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by that?” + </p> + <p> + “That is a secret.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course; you make it one; but if it is one connected with me, then + surely I ought to know.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not time yet for you to know.” + </p> + <p> + “When will it be time?” + </p> + <p> + “I can not tell.” + </p> + <p> + “And you will therefore keep it a secret forever?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope, my Bicina, that the time will come before long.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet why do you wait, if you know or even suspect any thing in which I am + concerned?” + </p> + <p> + “I wish to spare you.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you know?” asked Langhetti, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + She was silent. + </p> + <p> + “You can not <i>know</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVI. — THE AFFAIRS OF SMITHERS & CO. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + They had just come in and letters were lying on the table. + </p> + <p> + “You’ve got a large number this morning, Frank?” said the senior partner. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Louis sat down and opened it. The letter was as follows: + </p> + <p> + “August 15, 1840. + </p> + <p> + “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 + <i>they</i> 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, + </p> + <p> + “I remain, yours respectfully, + </p> + <p> + “E.L. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Smithers, Sen., London.” + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “LANGHETTI IS ALIVE."} + </p> + <p> + Louis read this letter over several times and fell into deep thought. + </p> + <p> + Frank went on reading his letters, looking up from time to time. At last + he put down the last one. + </p> + <p> + “Louis!” said he. + </p> + <p> + Louis looked up. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well!” + </p> + <p> + “Langhetti is alive.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it.” + </p> + <p> + “You knew it! When? Why did you not tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t want to tell any thing that might distract you from your + purpose.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not a child, Louis! After my victory over Rothschild I ought to be + worthy of your confidence.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “He is here in London,” said Frank, with deep emotion. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, thank God!” said Louis. “You will see him, and we all will be able + to meet some day.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” asked Frank, “do you not think Langhetti is a man to be trusted?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, Louis,” said Frank, sternly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Do so, and you will keep him permanently in London till the time comes + when we can arise from the dead.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>her</i> if she were more dear than life + itself? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he, at last, rousing himself from his abstraction, “how is + Potts now?” + </p> + <p> + “Deeper than ever,” answered Frank, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “The Brandon Bank—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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 dénouement to you, Louis.” + </p> + <p> + “The dénouement must not be long delayed now.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, for that matter things are so arranged that we may have ‘the + beginning of the end’ as soon as you choose.” + </p> + <p> + “What are the debts of the Brandon Bank to us now?” + </p> + <p> + “Five hundred and fifteen thousand one hundred and fifty pounds,” said + Frank. + </p> + <p> + “Five hundred thousand—very good,” returned Louis, thoughtfully. + “And how is the sum secured?” + </p> + <p> + “Chiefly by acknowledgments from the bank with the indorsement of John + Potts, President.” + </p> + <p> + “What are the other liabilities?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “One hundred thousand pounds,” said Louis. + </p> + <p> + “I consented to take his notes,” continued Frank, “purely out of regard to + the recommendations of my senior.” + </p> + <p> + “Any thing else?” asked Louis. + </p> + <p> + “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 + £103 for every £100. When he wants to sell out, as he may one day wish to + do, he will be lucky if he gets 35 per cent” + </p> + <p> + “How much did he buy?” + </p> + <p> + “Mexican loan, fifty thousand; Guatemala, fifty thousand; and Venezuela + bonds, fifty thousand.” + </p> + <p> + “He is quite lavish.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, quite. That makes it so pleasant to do business with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you advance the money for this?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Louis smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Has he no <i>bona fide</i> debtors in his own county?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, plenty of them; but more than half of his advances have been made + to my men. + </p> + <p> + “Did you hint any thing about issuing notes?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Louis was silent for a time. + </p> + <p> + “You have managed admirably, Frank,” said he at last. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You have had the chance.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Louis relapsed into his reflections, and Frank began to answer his + letters. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVII. — THE “PROMETHEUS.” + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>debut</i> 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + He did not attempt to account for it. He accepted the situation, and + prepared for the performance. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + At last the curtain rose. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>mer de glace</i>, which extended all along the stage. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + She stood so long in silence that the spectators wondered. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + But the music! What language can describe it? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “THE APPEARANCE OF BEATRICE WAS LIKE A NEW REVELATION."} + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + At this a louder roar of acclamation arose. It increased and deepened, and + the two who stood there felt overwhelmed by the tremendous applause. + </p> + <p> + So ended the first representation of the “Prometheus!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVIII. — THE SECRET. + </h2> + <p> + 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 <i>amore</i> and <i>cuore</i>, + or <i>amor’’</i> and <i>cuor’’</i>; 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet,” answered Langhetti. + </p> + <p> + “When will it come?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know.” + </p> + <p> + “And will you keep it secret always?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not.” + </p> + <p> + “You speak undecidedly.” + </p> + <p> + “I am undecided.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Langhetti looked at her long and doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “You hesitate,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “It is of too much importance.” + </p> + <p> + “That is all the more reason why I should know it. Would it crush me if I + knew it?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. It might.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let me be crushed.” + </p> + <p> + Langhetti sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Is it something that you know for certain, or is it only conjecture?” + </p> + <p> + “Neither,” said he, “but half-way between the two.” + </p> + <p> + Beatrice looked earnestly at him for some time. Then she put her head + nearer to his and spoke in a solemn whisper. + </p> + <p> + “It is about my mother!” + </p> + <p> + Langhetti looked at her with a startled expression. + </p> + <p> + “Is it not?” + </p> + <p> + He bowed his head. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I may tell you soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Say you will.” + </p> + <p> + “I will,” said Langhetti, after a struggle. + </p> + <p> + “When?” + </p> + <p> + “Soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “That is too soon; you are impatient.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + She spoke so earnestly that Langhetti was moved, and looked still more + undecided. + </p> + <p> + “When will you tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “Soon, perhaps,” he replied, with some hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “Why not now?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, I must assure myself first about some things.” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow, then.” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Langhetti was silent. + </p> + <p> + “I shall expect it to-morrow,” repeated Beatrice. + </p> + <p> + Langhetti still continued silent. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very well; silence gives consent!” said she, in a lively tone. + </p> + <p> + “I have not consented.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes you have, by your silence.” + </p> + <p> + “I was deliberating.” + </p> + <p> + “I asked you twice, and you did not refuse; surely that means consent.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not say so,” said Langhetti, earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “But you will do so.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not be so certain.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I will be certain; and if you do not tell me you will very deeply + disappoint me.” + </p> + <p> + “In telling you I could only give you sorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “The removal will be worse than the suspense.” + </p> + <p> + “That is impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “You would not say so if you knew what it was.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, then.” + </p> + <p> + “That is what I fear to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you fear for me, or for some other person?” + </p> + <p> + “Only for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not fear for me, then, I beseech you; for it is not only my desire, + but my prayer, that I may know this.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Yet even this Beatrice combated, and would listen to no later postponement + than the morrow. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + It was for these, then, that Beatrice waited in anxious expectation. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIX. — THE CAB. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The cabman started off at a rapid pace, and went on through street after + street, while Beatrice sat thinking of the evening’s performance. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + This thought flashed like lightning through her mind. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said the driver, and, turning a corner, he whipped up his + horses, and they galloped on faster than ever. + </p> + <p> + “If you don’t stop I’ll call for help!” cried Beatrice. + </p> + <p> + The driver’s only answer was a fresh application of the whip. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Beatrice saw the policeman. + </p> + <p> + “Help!” she cried; “I implore help. This wretch is carrying me away.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s this?” growled the policeman. + </p> + <p> + At this the man that had come out of the house hurried forward. + </p> + <p> + “Have you found her?” exclaimed a well-known voice. “Oh, my child! How + could you leave your father’s roof!” + </p> + <p> + It was John Potts. + </p> + <p> + Beatrice was silent for a moment in utter amazement. Yet she made a + violent effort against her despair. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my daughter!” cried Potts. “Will you still be relentless?” + </p> + <p> + “Help me!” cried Beatrice, and she opened the cab-door. + </p> + <p> + “The policeman can do nothing,” said Potts. “You are not of age. He will + not dare to take you from me.” + </p> + <p> + “I implore you,” cried Beatrice, “save me from this man. Take me to the + police-station—any where rather than leave me here!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s false!” cried Beatrice, vehemently. “I fled from this man’s house + because I feared his violence.” + </p> + <p> + “That is an idle story,” said Potts. + </p> + <p> + “Save me!” cried Beatrice. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s false!” cried Beatrice. “I am twenty.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you are not more than seventeen.” + </p> + <p> + “Langhetti can prove that I am twenty.” + </p> + <p> + “How? I have documents, and a father’s word will be believed before a + paramour’s.” + </p> + <p> + This taunt stung Beatrice to the soul. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You will be the last one who will dare to let it be brought into a police + court.” + </p> + <p> + “And why? Those absurd charges of yours are worthless. Have you any + proof?” he continued, with a sneer, “or has your paramour any?” + </p> + <p> + “Take me away,” said Beatrice to the policeman. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “Oh, my daughter!” cried Potts, “will you still be + relentless?"} + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Go,” said Potts; “leave me now and you become covered with infamy. Who + would believe your story?” + </p> + <p> + Beatrice was silent, her slender frame was rent by emotion. + </p> + <p> + “O God!” she groaned—but in her deep despair she could not find + thoughts even for prayers. + </p> + <p> + “You may go, policeman,” said Potts; “my daughter will come with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith and I’m glad! It’s the best thing for her;” and the policeman, much + relieved, returned to his beat. + </p> + <p> + “Some of you’ll have to pay for them winders,” said the cabman. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” answered Potts, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + His tone was one full of bitter taunt. Scarce conscious, with her brain + reeling, and her limbs trembling, Beatrice entered the house. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XL. — DISCOVERIES. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + He opened it and read the following: + </p> + <p> + “London, September 5,1849. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “CARBONARO.” + </p> + <p> + Langhetti read this several times. Then he called for his landlord. + </p> + <p> + “Who left this letter?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “A young man.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know his name?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “What did he look like?” + </p> + <p> + “He looked like a counting-house clerk more than any thing.” + </p> + <p> + “When was it left?” + </p> + <p> + “About six o’clock this morning.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I wish to see Signore Cavallo,” said he, in Italian. + </p> + <p> + “I am Signore Cavallo,” answered the other, blandly. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “You will write as I told you, and let me know?” + </p> + <p> + “Most faithfully.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + With such plans and purposes Langhetti went to visit Beatrice, wondering + how she would receive the intelligence of his new purpose. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “WHAT LIFE WE HAVE LEFT SHALL BE SPENT IN TRAPPING THAT + MISCREANT."} + </p> + <p> + “Is Miss Despard in?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Is Miss Despard in?” + </p> + <p> + “She is not here, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Not here!” + </p> + <p> + “No, Sir. I’m frightened. There was a man here early this morning, too.” + </p> + <p> + “A man here. What for?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, to ask after her.” + </p> + <p> + “And did he see her?” + </p> + <p> + “She wasn’t here.” + </p> + <p> + “Wasn’t here! What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “She didn’t come home at all last night. I waited up for her till four.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t come home!” cried Langhetti, as an awful fear came over him. + </p> + <p> + “No, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to tell me that she didn’t come home at her usual hour?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Sir—not at all; and as I was saying, I sat up nearly all + night.” + </p> + <p> + “Heavens!” cried Langhetti, in bewilderment. “What is the meaning of this? + But take me to her room. Let me see with my own eyes.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Langhetti was overwhelmed. The officials evidently believed that Potts was + an injured father, and showed some coldness to Langhetti. + </p> + <p> + “He is her father; what better could she do?” asked one. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Such were the opinions of the officials. They courteously granted + permission to Langhetti to take the policeman to the house. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “When did he leave?” + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday morning.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0041" id="link2HCH0041"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLI. — THEY MEET AGAIN. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said Brandon. + </p> + <p> + “Something has happened.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “She didn’t get home last night. The landlady is sitting up for her, and + is terribly frightened.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you make any inquiries?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Sir; I came straight here in obedience to your directions.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that all you know?” + </p> + <p> + “All.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Brandon, calmly, “you may go.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Potts?” asked Brandon, abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “In London, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + “He has been there about three weeks, hasn’t he?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + “So you wrote me. You thought when he went that he was going to hunt up + his daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “So I conjectured.” + </p> + <p> + “And he hasn’t got back yet?” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Has he written any word?” + </p> + <p> + “None that I know of.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you hear any of them say why he went to get her?” + </p> + <p> + “Not particularly; but I guessed from what they said that he was afraid of + having her at large.” + </p> + <p> + “Afraid? Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because she knew some secret of theirs.” + </p> + <p> + “Secret! What secret?” asked Brandon. + </p> + <p> + “You know, Sir, I suppose,” said Philips, meekly. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + Brandon stood in such a way that Potts could not help seeing him. He waved + his arm, and Potts stopped the carriage at once. + </p> + <p> + Potts was seated on the front seat, and Beatrice on the back one. Brandon + walked up to the carriage and touched his hat. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Smithers!” cried Potts, with his usual volubility. “Dear me, Sir. + This is really a most unexpected pleasure, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Delighted, Sir, delighted!” cried Potts. “Allow me, Mr. Smithers, to + introduce you to my daughter.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Entertain this gentleman till I come,” said he to Beatrice, “for he is a + great friend of mine.” + </p> + <p> + Beatrice said nothing, for the simple reason that she could not speak. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What a beautiful view!” said he, in a conventional voice. + </p> + <p> + She came up and stood beside him. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She shuddered. + </p> + <p> + “You will leave me here?” + </p> + <p> + “Heavens! I must,” he groaned; “we are the sport of circumstances. Oh, my + darling!” he continued, “you know my story, and my vengeance.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it all,” she whispered. “I would wish to die if I could die by + your hand.” + </p> + <p> + “I will save you. Oh, love—oh, soul of mine—my arms are around + you! You are watched—but watched by me.” + </p> + <p> + “You do not know,” she sighed. “Alas! your father’s voice must be obeyed, + and your vengeance must be taken.” + </p> + <p> + “Fear not,” said he; “I will guard you.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “The devil!” + </p> + <p> + Beatrice did not hear it. Brandon did, and turned his face. Potts stood + before them. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you’d better call some one to take care of her,” interrupted + Brandon. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Here, Mrs. Compton. Take charge of her,” said Potts. “She’s been trying + to faint.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Compton came up, and kneeling down kissed Beatrice’s hands. She said + nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Oughtn’t she to have a doctor?” said Brandon. + </p> + <p> + “Oh no—she’ll get over it. Take her to her room, Mrs. Compton.” + </p> + <p> + “Can the poor child walk?” asked Brandon. + </p> + <p> + Beatrice rose. Mrs. Compton asked her to take her arm. She did so, and + leaning heavily upon it, walked away. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “THE DEVIL!” ... POTTS STOOD BEFORE THEM.} + </p> + <p> + “She seems very delicate,” said Brandon. “I did not know that you had a + daughter.” + </p> + <p> + Potts sighed. + </p> + <p> + “I have,” said he, “to my sorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “To your sorrow!” said Brandon, with exquisitely simulated sympathy. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + The other said nothing, but there was in his face a horror which Potts + considered as directed toward his unnatural offspring. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Brandon said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “Cato! a very good name. Where is he now?” + </p> + <p> + “At the hotel. I will send him to you at once,” said Brandon, rising. + </p> + <p> + “The sooner the better,” returned Potts. + </p> + <p> + “By-the-way, my junior speaks very encouragingly about the prospects of + the Brandon Bank—” + </p> + <p> + “Does he?” cried Potts, gleefully. “Well, I do believe we’re going ahead + of every thing.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s right. Boldness is the true way to success.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, never fear. We are bold enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Good. But I am hurried, and I must go. I will send Asgeelo up, and give + him a letter.” + </p> + <p> + With these words Brandon bowed an adieu and departed. Before evening + Asgeelo was installed as one of the servants. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0042" id="link2HCH0042"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLII. — LANGHETTI’S ATTEMPT. + </h2> + <p> + Two days after Brandon’s visit to Potts, Langhetti reached the village. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I am Paolo Langhetti,” said he, abruptly—“the manager of the Covent + Garden Theatre.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “I hold your life and fortune in my hand. Give up that girl whom you call + your daughter.” + </p> + <p> + Potts stood for a moment staring. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know a man named Cigole?” said Langhetti. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “He is in my power,” said Langhetti, vehemently. + </p> + <p> + “Much good may he do you then, for I’m sure when he was in my power he + never did any good to me.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what if he does?” said Potts. + </p> + <p> + “He will tell,” cried Langhetti, excitedly, “the true story of the Despard + murder.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Cigole is in my power,” said Langhetti, fiercely. + </p> + <p> + “And so you think I am, too?” sneered Potts. + </p> + <p> + “Partly so.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because he was an accomplice of yours in the Despard murder.” + </p> + <p> + “So he says, no doubt; but who’ll believe him?” + </p> + <p> + “He is going to turn Queen’s evidence!” said Langhetti, solemnly. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “He will be able to show what the character of that gentleman is,” + rejoined Langhetti. + </p> + <p> + “Who will believe him?” + </p> + <p> + “No one can help it.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “You can’t,” cried Langhetti, furiously. + </p> + <p> + Potts cast a look of contempt at him— + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0043" id="link2HCH0043"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIII. — THE STRANGER. + </h2> + <p> + 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, + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Potts?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Potts, looking hard at his visitor. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I belong to the firm of Bigelow, Higginson, & Co., Solicitors, + London.—I am the Co.” + </p> + <p> + “Well!” + </p> + <p> + “The business about which I have come is one of some importance. Are we + secure from interruption?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you know best,” said the stranger. “The business upon which I have + come concerns you somewhat, but your son principally.” + </p> + <p> + Potts started, and looked with eager inquiry at the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” returned Potts, with a frown, “what is this wonderful case?” + </p> + <p> + “Forgery,” said the stranger. + </p> + <p> + Potts started to his feet with a ghastly face, and stood speechless for + some time. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know who you’re talking to?” said he, at last. + </p> + <p> + “John Potts, of Brandon Hall, I presume,” said the stranger, coolly. “My + business concerns him somewhat, but his son still more.” + </p> + <p> + “What the devil do you mean?” growled Potts, in a savage tone. + </p> + <p> + “Forgery,” said the stranger. “It is an English word, I believe. Forgery, + in which your son was chief agent. Have I made myself understood?” + </p> + <p> + Potts looked at him again, and then slowly went to the door, locked it, + and put the key in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “That’s right,” said the stranger, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t see how that would be any affliction,” said Potts, with a sneer. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “An attack?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is there?” said Potts, defiantly. + </p> + <p> + “Giovanni Cavallo, for one; my seniors, Messrs. Bigelow & Higginson, + and several others. + </p> + <p> + “Never heard of any of them before.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Smithers & Co.?” said Potts, aghast. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Potts was silent. An expression of consternation came over his face. He + plunged his hands deep in his pockets and bowed his head frowningly. + </p> + <p> + “It is all bosh,” said he, at last, raising his head. “Let them show and + be d—-d. What have they got to show?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “1st. The notes to which the name of Ralph Brandon is attached, 150 in + number, amounting to £93,500.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh!” said Potts. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + At this Potts bounded from his chair and stepped forward with a terrific + oath. + </p> + <p> + “You see, your son’s neck is in very considerable danger.” + </p> + <p> + “Yours is in greater,” said Potts, with menacing eyes. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “The next case,” said the stranger, “is the Thornton forgery.” + </p> + <p> + “Thornton!” exclaimed Potts, with greater agitation. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Heavens! what’s all this?” cried Potts. “Where have you been unearthing + this rubbish?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Potts did not say a word, but sat stupefied. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Aha!” cried Potts, grasping at this—“not sufficient proof! I should + think not.” His voice was husky and his manner nervous. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a d——d infernal lie!” roared Potts, in a fresh burst of + anger. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Proof!” cried Potts, desperately; “who would believe any thing against a + man like me, John Potts—a man of the county?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “His name is Philips; true name Lawton. He tells a very extraordinary + story; very extraordinary indeed.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Philips!” he gasped, at length. + </p> + <p> + “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, £93,500; Thornton papers, £5000; Bank of Good Hope, £4000; + being in all £102,500. 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Philips!” cried Potts. “I’ll have that devil’s blood!” + </p> + <p> + “That would be murder,” said the stranger, with a peculiar emphasis. + </p> + <p> + His tone stung Potts to the quick. + </p> + <p> + “You appear to take me for a born fool,” he cried, striding up and down. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. I am only an agent carrying out the instructions of others.” + </p> + <p> + Potts suddenly stopped in his walk. + </p> + <p> + “Have you all those papers about you?” he hissed. + </p> + <p> + “All.” + </p> + <p> + Potts looked all around. The door was locked. They were alone. The + stranger easily read his thought. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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 £600,000. So that Smithers + & Co. will at once come down upon you for payment.” + </p> + <p> + “Do Smithers & Co. know any thing about this?” asked Potts, in a voice + of intense anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “They do business with you the same as ever, do they not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you suppose they can know it?” + </p> + <p> + “They would never believe it” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” grasped Potts. + </p> + <p> + “His name is Cigole.” + </p> + <p> + “Cigole!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “D—- him!” + </p> + <p> + “You may damn him, but that won’t silence him,” remarked the other, + mildly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what are you going to do?” growled Potts. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “How long are you going to wait?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger rose, and Potts unlocked the door for him. + </p> + <p> + After he left Potts sat down, buried in his own reflections. In about an + hour Clark came in. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Johnnie!” said he, “what’s up? You look down—any trouble?” + </p> + <p> + At this Potts told Clark the story of the recent interview. Clark looked + grave, and shook his head several times. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + A long silence followed. + </p> + <p> + “When did that chap say he would leave?” + </p> + <p> + “To-night.” + </p> + <p> + Another silence. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” said Clark, “we can find out how he goes?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so,” returned Potts, gloomily. + </p> + <p> + “Somebody might go with him or follow him,” said Clark, darkly. + </p> + <p> + Potts looked at him. The two exchanged glances of intelligence. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “It does come hard.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we’ll arrange it that way, shall we?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “I remember a few.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if this man knows any of them.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Potts, confidently. “He would have said something.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t know,” growled Potts. “Keep her still somehow.” + </p> + <p> + “Give her to me.” + </p> + <p> + “What’ll you do with her?” asked Potts, in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “We’ll do it; and the sooner the better. You don’t want a minister, do + you?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Some further conversation followed, in which Clark kept making perpetual + references to his bride. The idea had taken hold of his mind completely. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Then he departed. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0044" id="link2HCH0044"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIV. — THE STRANGER’S STORY. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The company looked at one another, but no one made any reply. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + The stranger sat upright. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “The company will feel honored,” said Clark, in a mocking tone, as he + resumed his seat. + </p> + <p> + The stranger arose, and, going to the fire-place, picked up a piece of + charcoal. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, never mind the truth of it!” exclaimed Clark—“push along.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger stepped up to the wall over the fire-place. + </p> + <p> + “Before I begin I wish to make a few marks, which I will explain in + process of time. My story is connected with these.” + </p> + <p> + He took his charcoal and made upon the wall the following marks: + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: ^ /|\ {three lines, forming short arrow} + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + R {sans-serif R} +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + {plus sign} } +</pre> + <p> + He then turned, and stood for a moment in silence. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The stranger appeared to take no notice of him. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “The first (/|\) is the Queen’s mark, put on certain prisoners out in + Botany Bay, who are totally insubordinate. + </p> + <p> + “The second (R) signifies ‘run away,’ and is put on those who have + attempted to escape. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Clark didn’t even resent this, but sat mute, with a face of awful + expectation. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: HE TOOK HIS CHARCOAL AND MADE UPON THE WALL THE FOLLOWING + MARKS.} + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger paused for a moment, amidst an awful silence. + </p> + <p> + “The lives of these two were preserved a little longer,” he added, in + slow, measured tones. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “My friend is yet alive and well. How do you like my story?” + </p> + <p> + The stranger sat down. A deep stillness followed, which was suddenly + broken by something, half groan and half curse. It was Clark. + </p> + <p> + He lifted himself heavily from his chair, his face livid and his eyes + bloodshot, and staggered out of the room. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0045" id="link2HCH0045"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLV. — BEATRICE’S JOURNAL CONCLUDED. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “How did you get here?” I whispered. + </p> + <p> + “My master sent me.” + </p> + <p> + A thrill passed through my veins. + </p> + <p> + “Do not fear,” he said, and walked mysteriously away. + </p> + <p> + I asked Mrs. Compton who he was, and she said he was a new servant whom <i>He</i> + had just hired. She knew nothing more of him. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Can I trust? Oh, Help of the helpless, save me! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + I am at their mercy, and am without defense. What will become of me? What + is to be my fate? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 “<i>Laudanum</i>,” another was labeled “<i>Hydrocyanic + Acid—Poison.</i>” 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. + </p> + <p> + When the time comes which I dread I shall not be without resource. <i>These + shall save me.</i> + </p> + <p> + October 3.—They leave me unmolested. They are waiting for some + crushing blow, no doubt. Asgeelo sometimes meets me, and makes signs of + encouragement. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + This afternoon He sent for me to come down. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + John was the first to speak. He addressed me in a mocking tone. + </p> + <p> + “I have the honor to inform you,” said he, “that the time has arrived when + you are to be took down.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + I said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Clark, speak up—it’s your affair—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you manage it,” said Clark. “You’ve got the ‘gift of gab.’ I never + had it.” + </p> + <p> + “I never in all my born days saw so bold a man as timid with a girl as you + are.” + </p> + <p> + “He’s doin’ what I shouldn’t like to try on,” said John. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + So prepared was I for any horror that this did not surprise me. + </p> + <p> + “Do you hear?” he cried, as I stood motionless. I said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Do as I say, d—n you, or I’ll make you.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but she ought to be made to do it now.” + </p> + <p> + “Not necessary, Johnnie; all in good time.” + </p> + <p> + My master was silent for some moments. At last he spoke again: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, I won’t stand that,” said Clark. “She’s got to be dressed up in + tip-top style. I’ll stand the damage.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, d—n the damage. If you want that sort of thing, it shall be + done. But there won’t be time.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh well, let her fix up the best way she can.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + This is my last entry. My only refuge from horror unspeakable is the + Poison. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + May God have mercy upon my soul! Amen. + </p> + <p> + October 14, 11 o’clock.—Hope! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Oh God! deliver the captive. Save me, as I put my trust in thee! Amen. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0046" id="link2HCH0046"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVI. — THE LAST ESCAPE. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “EDGAR.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + {ILLUSTRATION: “THE GIGANTIC FIGURE OF ASGEELO STOOD ERECT, ONE ARM + CLUTCHING THE THROAT OF HIS ASSAILANT, AND THE OTHER HOLDING THE KNIFE + ALOFT."} + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Beatrice rushed forward and caught the uplifted arm. + </p> + <p> + “Spare him!” she said, in a low whisper. “He is my friend. He helped me to + escape once before.” + </p> + <p> + She had recognized Vijal. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I will keep your secret,” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + Beatrice hurried out, and the others followed. They heard the key turn in + the door after them. Vijal had locked it from the inside. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + They passed down the road a little distance, and at length reached a place + where there were two coaches and some men. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know who I am?” said at last a well-known voice. + </p> + <p> + She made no answer, but pressed his hand and nestled more closely to his + heart. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You have saved me from a fate of horror,” said she, tremulously; “or + rather, you have prevented me from saving myself.” + </p> + <p> + “How could you have saved yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “I found poison.” + </p> + <p> + She felt the shudder that passed through his frame. He pressed her again + to his heart, and sat for a long time in silence. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What! Vijal too?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And why did you not tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! love, there are many things which I must not tell you.” + </p> + <p> + He sighed. His sombre tone brought back her senses which had been + wandering. She struggled to get away. He would not release her. + </p> + <p> + “Let me go!” said she. “I am of the accursed brood—the impure ones! + You are polluted by my touch!” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I am pollution.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Tears fell from Beatrice’s eyes. He felt them hot upon his hand. He sighed + deeply. + </p> + <p> + “I am of the accursed brood!—the accursed!—the accursed! You + dishonor your name by touching me.” + </p> + <p> + Brandon clang to her. He would not let her go. She wept there upon his + breast, and still murmured the words, “Accursed! accursed!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “This is our destination,” said Brandon. + </p> + <p> + “Where are we?” sighed Beatrice. + </p> + <p> + “It is Denton,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + The coach stopped before a little cottage. Asgeelo opened the door. + Brandon pressed Beatrice to his heart. + </p> + <p> + “For the last time, darling,” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He shook hands, with Mrs. Compton, pressed the hand of Beatrice, and + leaped into the coach. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by,” he called, as Asgeelo whipped the horses. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by forever,” murmured Beatrice through her tears. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0047" id="link2HCH0047"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVII. — ROUSED AT LAST. + </h2> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Beatrice?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “What can you do?” + </p> + <p> + “I haven’t an idea; but I mean to try to do something.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Despard, in some surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me for alluding to so sad an event; but you are, of course, aware + of the common story of his death.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Despard, in still greater surprise. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Who suspected this?” + </p> + <p> + “My uncle Henry Despard and myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you allow me to ask you if your suspicions pointed at any one?” + </p> + <p> + “My uncle hinted at one person, but he had nothing more than suspicions.” + </p> + <p> + “Who was the man?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What was his name?” + </p> + <p> + “John Potts.” + </p> + <p> + “Where does he live now?” + </p> + <p> + “In Brandon.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What were those, may I ask?” + </p> + <p> + “I would rather not tell,” said Despard, who shrank from relating to a + stranger the mysterious story of Edith Brandon. + </p> + <p> + “It is as well, perhaps. At any rate, you say there were no suspicions + expressed till your uncle was led to form them?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “About how long ago was this?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you like to learn something of the truth?” asked the stranger, in a + thrilling voice. + </p> + <p> + Despard’s whole soul was roused by this question. + </p> + <p> + “More than any thing else,” replied he. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>Vishnu</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “The <i>Vishnu</i>!” cried Despard, starting to his feet, while his whole + frame was shaken by emotion at this strange narrative. “<i>Vishnu</i>!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the <i>Vishnu</i>!” continued the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Whose?” cried Despard, in a frenzy of excitement. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Your father’s</i>!” said the stranger, in an awful voice. + </p> + <p> + “God in heaven!” exclaimed Despard, and he sank back into his seat. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is it?” cried Despard, in wild excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” said the stranger, and he laid a package upon the table. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Despard read over the manuscript many times. It was his father’s words to + himself. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And they shall be avenged!” exclaimed Despard, striking his clenched hand + upon the table. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Saying this he handed to Despard a miniature, painted on enamel, + representing a beautiful woman, whose features were like his own. + </p> + <p> + “My mother!” cried Despard, passionately, and he covered the miniature + with kisses. + </p> + <p> + “I buried your father,” said the stranger, after a long pause. “His + remains now lie on Coffin Island, in their last resting-place.” + </p> + <p> + “And who are you? What are you? How did you find me out? What is your + object?” cried Despard, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger bowed and withdrew. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + In the morning he saw Langhetti and told him all. + </p> + <p> + “But who is the stranger?” Despard asked in wonder. + </p> + <p> + “It can only be one person,” said Langhetti, solemnly. + </p> + <p> + “Who?” + </p> + <p> + “Louis Brandon. He and no other. Who else could thus have been chosen to + find the dead? He has his wrongs also to avenge.” + </p> + <p> + Despard was silent. Overwhelming thoughts crowded upon him. Was this man + Louis Brandon? + </p> + <p> + “We must find him,” said he. “We must gain his help in our work. We must + also tell him about Edith.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0048" id="link2HCH0048"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVIII. — WHO IS HE? + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Potts, “did you do that business?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” growled Clark. + </p> + <p> + “No!” cried Potts. “Do you mean to say you didn’t follow up the fellow?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + At these words, which were spoken with unusual excitement, John gave a low + laugh, but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “You’ve been getting rather soft lately, it seems to me,” said Potts. “At + any rate, what did you do?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he know that?” cried Potts, aghast. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil!” said John. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Clark paused for a little while, and then, taking a long breath, went on. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped for a while. + </p> + <p> + “Did he know about that, too?” asked Potts, with some agitation. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Clark stopped again, and no one spoke for a long time. + </p> + <p> + “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.’” + </p> + <p> + At this Potts and John looked at each other in horror. + </p> + <p> + “He knows that too?” said John. + </p> + <p> + “Every thing,” returned Clark, dejectedly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, when he said that I looked a little surprised, as you may be sure. + </p> + <p> + “‘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.’ + </p> + <p> + “At this I fairly staggered. + </p> + <p> + “‘Come,’ says he, ‘I’ve got all that money, and Potts wants it back. And + you’re going to get it from me. Come.’ + </p> + <p> + “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?’ + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + As he ended Clark arose, and, going to the sideboard, poured out a large + glass of brandy, which he drank raw. + </p> + <p> + “The fact is,” said John, after long thought, “you’ve been tricked. This + fellow has doctored your pistols and frightened you.” + </p> + <p> + “But I loaded them myself,” replied Clark. + </p> + <p> + “When?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I always keep them loaded in my room. I tried them, and found the + charge was in them.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, somebody’s fixed them.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Somebody’s at work around us,” said John. “I feel it in my bones.” + </p> + <p> + “We’re getting used up,” said Potts. “The girl’s gone again.” + </p> + <p> + “The girl! Gone!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and Mrs. Compton too.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil!” + </p> + <p> + “I’d rather lose the girl than Mrs. Compton; but when they both vanish the + same night what are you to think?” + </p> + <p> + “I think the devil is loose.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid he’s turned against us,” said Potts, in a regretful tone. + “He’s got tired of helping us.” + </p> + <p> + “Do none of the servants know any thing about it?” + </p> + <p> + “No—none of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you asked them all?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Doesn’t that new servant, the Injin?” + </p> + <p> + “No; they all went to bed at twelve. Vijal was up as late as two. They all + swear that every thing was quiet.” + </p> + <p> + “Did they go out through the doors?” + </p> + <p> + “The doors were all locked as usual.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s treachery somewhere!” cried John, with more excitement than + usual. + </p> + <p> + The others were silent. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” rejoined Potts, gloomily. “There’s somebody at work deeper than she + is. Somebody—but who?—who?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody but the devil,” said Clark, firmly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Clark’s eyes brightened. + </p> + <p> + “The next time,” said he, “I’ll load my pistols fresh, and then see if + he’ll escape me!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What does the porter say?” asked Clark. + </p> + <p> + “He swears that he was up till two, and then went to bed, and that nobody + was near the gate.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll never get her again,” said John; “she’s gone for good this time.” + </p> + <p> + Potts swore a deep oath and relapsed into silence. After a time they all + went down to the bank. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0049" id="link2HCH0049"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIX. — THE RUN ON THE BANK. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “How much gold have you?” + </p> + <p> + “Very little.” + </p> + <p> + “How much?” + </p> + <p> + “Thirty thousand.” + </p> + <p> + “Phew!” said Clark, “and nearly two hundred thousand out in notes!” + </p> + <p> + Potts was silent. + </p> + <p> + “What’ll you do if there is a run on the bank?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there won’t be.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “My credit is too good.” + </p> + <p> + “Your credit won’t be worth a rush if people know this.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Haven’t you got gold enough?” said the tailor, with a sneer. “Are you + afraid of the bank? Well, old Potts, so am I.” + </p> + <p> + At this there was a general laugh among the people. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “There’s going to be a run on the bank!” said he. “It’s only begun.” + </p> + <p> + Potts’s sole answer was a curse. + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll have to help me,” replied Potts. “You’ve got something.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve got fifty thousand pounds in the Plymouth Bank.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll have to let me have it.” + </p> + <p> + Clark hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “D-n it, man, I’ll give you any security you wish. I’ve got more security + than I know what to do with.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Clark, “I don’t know. There’s a risk.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “How much have you?” + </p> + <p> + “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: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + California Company.................£100,000 + Mexican bonds ..................... 50,000 + Guatemala do. ..................... 50,000 + Venezuela do. ..................... 50,000 + ———— + £250,000 +</pre> + <p> + “What do you think of that, my boy?” said Potts. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” returned Clark, cautiously, “I don’t like them American names.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you had some French and Russian bonds,” said Clark. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Clark was silent. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “But you owe an infernal lot.” + </p> + <p> + “And haven’t I notes and other securities from every body?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, from every body; but how can you get hold of them?” + </p> + <p> + “The first people of the county!” + </p> + <p> + “And as poor as rats.” + </p> + <p> + “London merchants!” + </p> + <p> + “Who are they? How can you get back your money?” + </p> + <p> + “Smithers & Co. will let me have what I want.” + </p> + <p> + “If Smithers & Co. knew the present state of affairs I rather think + that they’d back down.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: THE RUN ON THE BANK} + </p> + <p> + “How much will you give?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll give ten thousand pounds—there! I don’t mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Done. Give me your note for sixty thousand pounds, and I’ll let you have + the fifty thousand for three days.” + </p> + <p> + “All right. You’ve got me where my hair is short; but I don’t mind. When + can I have the money?” + </p> + <p> + “The day after to-morrow. I’ll go to Plymouth now, get the money + to-morrow, and you can use it the next day.” + </p> + <p> + “All right; I’ll send down John to London with the stock, and he’ll bring + up the gold at once.” + </p> + <p> + Clark started off immediately for Plymouth, and not long after John went + away to London. Potts remained to await the storm which he dreaded. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Have you got it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said John, “what there is of it.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by that?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m too tired to explain. Wait till we get home.” + </p> + <p> + 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, + </p> + <p> + “You’ve been and gone and done it.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” asked Potts, somewhat puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “With your speculations in stocks.” + </p> + <p> + “What about them?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” said John, “only they happen to be at a small discount.” + </p> + <p> + “A discount?” + </p> + <p> + “Slightly.” + </p> + <p> + Potts was silent. + </p> + <p> + “How much?” asked Clark. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well!” cried Potts, eagerly. “Did you get it?” + </p> + <p> + “You saw that I got it. I sold out at a cost that is next to ruin.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + It was as follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 100 shares California @ £1000 each. 65 per + cent, discount........................£35,000 + 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 + ———- + £67,000 +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “The bank’s blown up!” said he. + </p> + <p> + “No, it ain’t,” rejoined Potts. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “There’s gold enough to pay all that’s likely to be offered.” + </p> + <p> + “How much more do you think will be offered?” + </p> + <p> + “Not much; it stands to reason.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Clark!” said Potts, “you’re getting timider and timider. You ain’t got + any more pluck these times than a kitten.” + </p> + <p> + “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 + £180,000, perhaps more. Well, you’ve already had to redeem about £75,000. + That leaves £105,000 yet, and you’ve only got £67,000 to pay it with. What + have you got to say to that?” + </p> + <p> + “Well!” said Potts. “The Brandon Bank may go—but what then? You + forget that I have the Brandon estate. That’s worth two millions.” + </p> + <p> + “You got it for two hundred thousand.” + </p> + <p> + “Because it was thrown away, and dropped into my hands.” + </p> + <p> + “It’ll be thrown away again at this rate. You owe Smithers & Co.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! that’s all offset by securities which I hold.” + </p> + <p> + “Queer securities!” + </p> + <p> + “All good,” said Potts. “All first-rate. It’ll be all right. We’ll have to + put it through.” + </p> + <p> + “But what if it isn’t all right?” asked Clark, savagely. + </p> + <p> + “You forget that I have Smithers & Co. to fall back on.” + </p> + <p> + “If your bank breaks, there is an end of Smithers & Co.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Clark thought for a while. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” said he, “it’s a risk, but I’ll run it” + </p> + <p> + “There isn’t time to get a lawyer now to make out the papers; but whenever + you fetch one I’ll do it.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + At length a man came in with a carpet-bag. He pulled out a vast quantity + of notes. + </p> + <p> + “How much?” asked the clerk, blandly. + </p> + <p> + “Thirty thousand pounds,” said the man. + </p> + <p> + Potts heard this and came out. + </p> + <p> + “How much?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Thirty thousand pounds.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you want it in gold?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you take a draft on Messrs. Smithers & Co.?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I want gold.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + On paying the thirty thousand pounds it was found that there were only two + bags left of two thousand pounds each. + </p> + <p> + The other man who had waited stood calmly, while the one who had been paid + was making arrangements about conveying his money away. + </p> + <p> + It was now two o’clock. The stranger said quietly to the clerk opposite + that he wanted gold. + </p> + <p> + “How much?” said the clerk, with the same blandness. + </p> + <p> + “Forty thousand pounds,” answered the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “Sorry we can’t accommodate you, Sir,” returned the clerk. + </p> + <p> + Potts had heard this and came forward. + </p> + <p> + “Won’t you take a draft on London?” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Can’t,” replied the man; “I was ordered to get gold.” + </p> + <p> + “A draft on Smithers & Co.?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Potts was silent. His face was ghastly. As much agony as such a man could + endure was felt by him at that moment. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The Brandon Bank had failed. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0050" id="link2HCH0050"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER L. — THE BANK DIRECTORS. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Johnnie,” said Potts, after a long silence, “we’re used up!” + </p> + <p> + “The bank’s bursted, that’s a fact. You were a fool for fighting it out so + long.” + </p> + <p> + “I might as well. I was responsible, at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + “You might have kept your gold.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Smithers & Co,” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! yes.” + </p> + <p> + “They’ll be down on me now. That’s what I was afraid of all along.” + </p> + <p> + “How much do you owe them?” + </p> + <p> + “Seven hundred and two thousand pounds.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil! I thought it was only five hundred thousand.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s been growing every day. Its a dreadful dangerous thing to have + unlimited credit.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you’ve got something as an offset. The debts due the bank.” + </p> + <p> + “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.’” + </p> + <p> + “How much is owing you?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you intend to do?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know.” + </p> + <p> + “Haven’t you thought?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I couldn’t.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I have.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll have to try to compromise.” + </p> + <p> + “What if they won’t?” + </p> + <p> + John shrugged his shoulders, and said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “After all,” resumed Potts, hopefully, “it can’t be so bad. The estate is + worth two millions.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh!” + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not. You know what you bought it for.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s because it was thrown away.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it’ll have to be thrown away again.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Smithers & Co.‘ll be easy. They don’t care for money.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that’s easy enough! They knew I was rich, and let me have what money + I wanted.” + </p> + <p> + John looked doubtful. + </p> + <p> + At this moment a rap was heard at the back door. + </p> + <p> + “There comes Clark!” said he. + </p> + <p> + Potts opened the door. Clark entered. His face was flushed, and his eyes + bloodshot. + </p> + <p> + “See here,” said he, mysteriously, as he entered the room. + </p> + <p> + “What?” asked the others, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “There’s two chaps at the inn. One is the Italian—” + </p> + <p> + “Langhetti!” + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>whose son he is</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Potts and John exchanged glances. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “All right!” said Clark. “I’ll be even with this fellow yet, if he is in + league with the devil.” + </p> + <p> + With these words Clark went out, and left the two together. A glance of + savage exultation passed over the face of Potts. + </p> + <p> + “If he comes back successful,” said he, “all right, and if he doesn’t, why + then”—He paused. + </p> + <p> + “If he doesn’t come back,” said John, finishing the sentence for him, “why + then—all righter.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0051" id="link2HCH0051"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LI. — A STRUGGLE. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>Rev. Courtenay Despard</i>. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “SIR,—There are two men here whom you seek—one Potts, the + other Clark. You can see them both at any time. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + There was no signature. + </p> + <p> + Despard handed it in silence to Langhetti, who read it eagerly. Joy spread + over his face. He started to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “I must go at once,” said he, excitedly. “Will you?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Despard. “You had better go. I must stay; my purpose is a + different one.” + </p> + <p> + “But do not you also wish to secure the safety of Bice?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course; but I shall not be needed. You will be enough.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “THE NEXT INSTANT DESPARD HAD SEIZED HIS THROAT AND HELD + HIM SO THAT HE COULD NOT MOVE."} + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Leave me,” he gasped. “Save Bice.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + It was the horseman—it was Clark—who had stealthily + dismounted, and, in his desperate purpose, had tried to make sure of + Despard. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The next instant Despard had seized his throat and held him down so that + he could not move. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The struggles grew fainter, the arms relaxed, the face blackened, the + limbs stiffened. At last all efforts ceased. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: ^ /|\ {three lines, forming short arrow} + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + R {sans-serif R} +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + {plus sign} } +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0052" id="link2HCH0052"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LII. — FACE TO FACE. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Who the devil is he?” cried Potts. “D—n that porter! I told him to + let no one in to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Old Smithers.” + </p> + <p> + “Smithers!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then this is young Smithers?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! Old Smithers is old enough to be this man’s grandfather.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever happen to notice that old Smithers hadn’t a wrinkle in his + face?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing—only his hair mightn’t have been natural; that’s all.” + </p> + <p> + Potts and John exchanged glances, and nothing was said for some time. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But why should they?” + </p> + <p> + John shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Before this conversation had ended the stranger had entered, and had gone + up to the drawing-room. The servant came down to announce him. + </p> + <p> + “What name?” asked Potts. + </p> + <p> + “He didn’t give any.” + </p> + <p> + Potts looked perplexed. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + With these words Potts departed, and, ascending the stairs, entered the + drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve got him now, any way,” murmured Potts to himself, “whoever he is.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “Well; is there any thing you want of me? I’m in a hurry.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the stranger, “I reached the village to-day to call at the + bank, but found it closed.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I suppose you’ve got a draft on me, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the stranger, mysteriously. “I suppose I may call it a draft.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s no use in troubling your head about it, then,” returned Potts; “I + won’t pay.” + </p> + <p> + “You won’t?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a penny.” + </p> + <p> + A sharp, sudden smile of contempt flashed over the stranger’s face. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps if you knew what the draft is, you would feel differently.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t care what it is.” + </p> + <p> + “That depends upon the drawer.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You appear to hint that you know who I am?” + </p> + <p> + “Something of that sort,” said Potts, rudely; “and let me tell you I don’t + care who you are.” + </p> + <p> + “That depends,” rejoined the other, calmly, “very much upon + circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + “So you see,” continued Potts, “you won’t get any thing out of me—not + this time,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “My draft,” said the stranger, “is different from those which were + presented at the bank counter.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Potts looked wonderingly and half fearfully at him. + </p> + <p> + “My draft,” said the other, “was drawn by Colonel Lionel Despard.” + </p> + <p> + A chill went to the heart of Potts. With a violent effort he shook off his + fear. + </p> + <p> + “Pooh!” said he, “you’re at that old story, are you? That nonsense won’t + do here.” + </p> + <p> + “It was dated at sea,” continued the stranger, in tones which still + deepened in awful emphasis—“at sea, when the writer was all alone.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a lie!” cried Potts, while his face grew white. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>Vishnu</i>!” + </p> + <p> + Potts was like a man fascinated by some horrid spectacle. He looked + fixedly at his interlocutor. His jaw fell. + </p> + <p> + “There he died,” said the stranger. “Who caused his death? Will you + answer?” + </p> + <p> + With a tremendous effort Potts again recovered command of himself. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + But in spite of these words the pale face and nervous manner of Potts + showed how deep was his agitation. + </p> + <p> + “I myself was on board the <i>Vishnu</i>,” said the other. + </p> + <p> + “You!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I.” + </p> + <p> + “You! Then you must have been precious small. The <i>Vishnu</i> went down + twenty years ago.” + </p> + <p> + “I was on board of the <i>Vishnu</i>, and I saw Colonel Despard.” + </p> + <p> + The memory of some awful scene seemed to inspire the tones of the speaker—they + thrilled through the coarse, brutal nature of the listener. + </p> + <p> + “I saw Colonel Despard,” continued the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “You lie!” cried Potts, roused by terror and horror to a fierce pitch of + excitement. + </p> + <p> + “I saw Colonel Despard,” repeated the stranger, for the third time, “on + board the <i>Vishnu</i> in the Indian Sea. I learned from him his story—” + </p> + <p> + He paused. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “It did take place,” said the other. + </p> + <p> + “You’re talking nonsense. How could it if you saw him? He must have been + alive.” + </p> + <p> + <i>“He was dead!”</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + “He was dead,” repeated the stranger, “and yet all that I told you is + true. I learned from him his story.” + </p> + <p> + “Dead men tell no tales,” muttered Potts, in a scarce articulate voice. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + And the mystic solemnity of the man’s face seemed to mark him as one who + might indeed have held commune with the dead. + </p> + <p> + “He told me,” continued the stranger, “where he found you, and how.” + </p> + <p> + Awful expectation was manifest on the face of Potts. + </p> + <p> + “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 <i>Bowhani</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Potts started back. His lips grew ashen. His teeth chattered. + </p> + <p> + “He gave me this,” cried the stranger, in a louder voice; “and this is the + draft which you will not reject.” + </p> + <p> + He strode forward three or four paces, and flung something toward Potts. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “THUG!” cried he; “do you know what that is?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “That is my draft,” said the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want?” gasped Potts. + </p> + <p> + “The title deeds of the Brandon estates!” + </p> + <p> + “The Brandon estates!” said Potts, in a faltering voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the Brandon estates; nothing less.” + </p> + <p> + “And will you then keep silent?” + </p> + <p> + “I will give you the cord.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you keep silent?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The stranger stood with a scornful smile on his face. Potts turned to him + savagely: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “THUG! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT IS?"} + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + The stranger said nothing, but wound up the cord coolly, placed it in his + pocket, and still regarded Potts with his scornful smile. + </p> + <p> + “Here!” cried Potts, addressing the servants. “Catch that man, and tie his + hands and feet.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Vijal glanced around in surprise, waiting for the other servants. + </p> + <p> + “You devils!” cried Potts, “do you hear what I say? Seize that man!” + </p> + <p> + None of the servants moved. + </p> + <p> + “It’s my belief,” said John, “that they’re all ratting.” + </p> + <p> + “Vijal!” cried Potts, savagely, “tackle him.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The stranger waved his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Let him go!” said he. + </p> + <p> + Asgeelo obeyed. + </p> + <p> + “What the devil’s the meaning of this?” cried John, looking around in + dismay. Potts also looked around. There stood the servants—motionless, + impassive. + </p> + <p> + “For the last time,” roared Potts, with a perfect volley of oaths, “seize + that man, or you’ll be sorry for it.” + </p> + <p> + The servants stood motionless. The stranger remained in the same attitude + with the same sneering smile. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Potts glared at him with bloodshot eyes, but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Potts looked around like a wild beast in the arena, seeking for some + opening for escape, but finding nothing except hostile faces. + </p> + <p> + “Do what you like!” he cried, desperately, with an oath, and sank down + into stolid despair. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “The title deeds of the Brandon estate,” said the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “Never!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I won’t give them,” said Potts, desperately. + </p> + <p> + “Cato!” said the stranger, “go and fetch the policemen.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” cried John. + </p> + <p> + At a sign Asgeelo, who had already taken two steps toward the door, + paused. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Potts turned his pale face to his son. + </p> + <p> + “Do it!” exclaimed John. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I must go and get them,” he continued. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll go with you; or no—Cato shall go with you, and I’ll wait + here.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You must leave this Hall to-night,” said the stranger, sternly—“you + and your son. I remain here.” + </p> + <p> + “Leave the Hall?” gasped Potts. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment he stood overwhelmed. He looked at John. John nodded his head + slowly. + </p> + <p> + “You’ve got to do it, dad,” said he. + </p> + <p> + Potts turned savagely at the stranger. He shook his clenched fist at him. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know me, or you wouldn’t say that.” + </p> + <p> + “I do. You’re Smithers & Co.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + As he said this Potts and John exchanged glances of wonder. + </p> + <p> + “Tricked!” cried Potts—“deceived! humbugged! and ruined! Who are + you? What have you against me? Who are you? Who?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “There are others.” + </p> + <p> + Potts said nothing, but looked with some fearful discovery dawning upon + him. + </p> + <p> + “You know me now!” cried the stranger. “I see it in your face.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re not <i>him</i>!” exclaimed Potts, in a piercing voice. + </p> + <p> + “I am LOUIS BRANDON!” + </p> + <p> + “I knew it! I knew it!” cried John, in a voice which was almost a shriek. + </p> + <p> + “Cigole played false. I’ll make him pay for this,” gasped Potts. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + At the end of the hour Brandon of Brandon Hall was at last master in the + home of his ancestors. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0053" id="link2HCH0053"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LIII. — THE COTTAGE. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “My dear adopted sister, I bring you our beloved Langhetti.” + </p> + <p> + “Langhetti!” she exclaimed, fearfully. + </p> + <p> + “He has met with an accident. Is there a doctor in the place? Send your + servant at once.” + </p> + <p> + Beatrice hurried in and returned with a servant. + </p> + <p> + “We will first lift him out,” said Despard. “Is there a bed ready?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes! Bring him in!” cried Beatrice, who was now in an agony of + suspense. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” asked Despard. + </p> + <p> + “He wants Edith,” said Beatrice. + </p> + <p> + “I have written for her,” said Despard. + </p> + <p> + Beatrice whispered this to Langhetti. An ecstatic smile passed over his + face. + </p> + <p> + “It is well,” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0054" id="link2HCH0054"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LIV. — THE WORM TURNS. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Well, dad!” said John, “what are you going to do now?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any money?” + </p> + <p> + “Four thousand pounds in the bank.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Potts made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “At any rate there’s one comfort,” said John, “even about that.” + </p> + <p> + “What comfort?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you went in at the little end.” + </p> + <p> + They walked on in silence. + </p> + <p> + “You must do something,” said John at last. + </p> + <p> + “What can I do?” + </p> + <p> + “You won’t let that fellow ride the high horse in this style, will you?” + </p> + <p> + “How can I help it?” + </p> + <p> + “You can’t help it; but you can strike a blow yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “How? You’ve struck blows before to some purpose, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said John. + </p> + <p> + “No more do I. This man has every body in his pay. Look at the servants! + See how easily he did what he wished!” + </p> + <p> + “You’ve got one servant left.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes—that’s a fact.” + </p> + <p> + “That servant will do something for you.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Brandon is a man, after all—and can <i>die</i>,” said John, with + deep emphasis. “Vijal,” he continued, in a whisper, “hates me, but he + would lay down his life for you.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” said Potts, after a pause. + </p> + <p> + A long silence followed. + </p> + <p> + “You go on to the inn,” said Potts, at last. “I’ll talk with Vijal.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I risk the policemen?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you run no risk. I’ll sleep in the bank.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said John, and he walked away. + </p> + <p> + “Vijal,” said Potts, dropping back so as to wait for the Malay. “You are + faithful to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Vijal. + </p> + <p> + “All the others betrayed me, but you did not?” + </p> + <p> + “Never.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know when you first saw me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “I saved your life.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Vijal humbly, and in a reverent tone. + </p> + <p> + “Haven’t I been another father?” + </p> + <p> + “You have.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t I promise to tell you some day who the man was that killed your + father?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” exclaimed Vijal, fiercely. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’m going to tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” cried Vijal, in excitement so strong that he could scarce speak. + </p> + <p> + “Did you see that man who drove me out of the Hall?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that was the man. He killed your father. He has ruined me—your + other father. What do you say to that?” + </p> + <p> + “He shall die,” returned Vijal, solemnly. “He shall die.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll do it!” cried Vijal. “I’ll do it!” + </p> + <p> + His eyes flashed, his nostrils dilated—all the savage within him was + aroused. Potts saw this, and rejoiced. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know how to use this?” he asked, showing Vijal the cord which + Brandon had given him. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Potts, with deep gratification. “You have not forgotten, then. + You can throw it skillfully.” + </p> + <p> + Vijal nodded, and said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Keep the cord. Follow up that man. Avenge your father’s death and my + ruin.” + </p> + <p> + “I will,” said Vijal, sternly. + </p> + <p> + “It may take long. Follow him up. Do not come back to me till you come to + tell me that he is dead.” + </p> + <p> + Vijal nodded. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I will lay down my life for you,” said Vijal. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want your life,” returned Potts. “I want <i>his</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall have it,” exclaimed Vijal. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0055" id="link2HCH0055"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LV. — ON THE ROAD. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning,” said Vijal. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning,” replied Brandon. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to Denton?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “So am I,” said Vijal. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Have you left Potts?” said Brandon, after a short time. + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Vijal. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Then you are on some business of his now?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + Brandon was silent. + </p> + <p> + “Would you like to know what it is?” asked Vijal. + </p> + <p> + “Not particularly,” said Brandon, coldly. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I tell you?” + </p> + <p> + “If you choose.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: VIJAL LOOKED EARNESTLY AT IT. HE SAW THESE WORDS: “JOHN + POTTS."} + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “If you move,” he cried, sternly, “I’ll blow your brains out!” + </p> + <p> + Vijal lay motionless. + </p> + <p> + “Scoundrel!” exclaimed Brandon, as he held him with the revolver pressed + against his head, “who sent you to do this?” + </p> + <p> + Vijal in sullen silence answered nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me or I’ll kill you. Was it Potts?” + </p> + <p> + Vijal made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “Speak out,” cried Brandon. “Fool that you are, I don’t want <i>your</i> + life.” + </p> + <p> + “You are the murderer of my father,” said Vijal, fiercely, “and therefore + I sought to kill you.” + </p> + <p> + Brandon gave a low laugh. + </p> + <p> + “The murderer of your father?” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” cried Vijal, wildly; “and I sought your death.” + </p> + <p> + Brandon laughed again. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know how old I am?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “How many years is it since your father died?” + </p> + <p> + Vijal said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You were too young,” said he, at last. “You are younger than I am. I was + only twelve.” + </p> + <p> + “I could not have been his murderer, then?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet I know who his murderer was, for I have found out.” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” + </p> + <p> + “The same man who killed my own father.” + </p> + <p> + Vijal looked at Brandon with awful eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Your father had a brother?” said Brandon. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know his name?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Zangorri.” + </p> + <p> + “Right. Well, do you know what Zangorri did to avenge his brother’s + death?” + </p> + <p> + “No; what?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “You see he has done more than you. He knew better than you who it was + that had killed your father.” + </p> + <p> + “Who was it?” cried Vijal, fiercely. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Who was he?” repeated Vijal, with increased excitement. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Who was he?” cried Vijal again, with restless impetuosity. + </p> + <p> + Brandon unbuttoned his vest and drew forth a Malay creese, which was hung + around his neck and worn under his coat. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what this is?” he asked, solemnly. + </p> + <p> + Vijal took it and looked at it earnestly. His eyes dilated, his nostrils + quivered. + </p> + <p> + “My father’s!” he cried, in a tremulous voice. + </p> + <p> + “Can you read English letters?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you read the name that is cut upon it?” + </p> + <p> + And Brandon pointed to a place where some letters were carved. + </p> + <p> + Vijal looked earnestly at it. He saw these words: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + JOHN POTTS. +</pre> + <p> + “That,” said Brandon, “is what your father’s brother gave to me.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a lie!” growled Vijal, fiercely. + </p> + <p> + “It’s true,” said Brandon, calmly, “and it was carved there by your + father’s own hand.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0056" id="link2HCH0056"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LVI. — FATHER AND SON. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Vijal cast down his eyes humbly. + </p> + <p> + “I can try again,” said he. “I have made a mistake this time; the next + time I will make sure.” + </p> + <p> + There was something in the tone of his voice so remorseless and so + vengeful that Potts felt reassured. + </p> + <p> + “You are a good lad,” said he, “a good lad. And you’ll try again?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Vijal, with flashing eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll make sure this time?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Potts. “That is very good. John shall go. Johnnie, you don’t + mind going, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll go,” said John, languidly. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll know the fellow, won’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “I rather think I should.” + </p> + <p> + “But what will you do first?” + </p> + <p> + “Go to Denton,” said John. + </p> + <p> + “To Denton?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because Brandon is there.” + </p> + <p> + “How can he be?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—you’re right, perhaps,” said Potts; “but take care of + yourself, Johnnie.” + </p> + <p> + John gave a dry smile. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll try to do so and I hope to take care of others also,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “You’re spooney, dad,” returned John, and he left the bank with Vijal. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You most keep on watching him, then; do you hear?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And if you let him slip this time, you infernal nigger, you’ll pay dear + for it.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “It will all be done by to-morrow,” said Vijal, calmly. + </p> + <p> + “Then clear out and leave me. I’m going to bed. What you’ve got to do is + to watch that man.” + </p> + <p> + Vijal retired. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “He’s a lazy fellow,” said the landlord, “though he don’t look like it. + And where’s his servant?” + </p> + <p> + “The servant went back to Brandon at day-break,” was the answer. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + He was somewhat flushed and flurried. His eyes twinkled brightly, and + there was a somewhat exuberant familiarity in his address to the landlord. + </p> + <p> + “There was a party who stopped here last night,” said he, “that I wish to + see.” + </p> + <p> + “There was only one person here last night,” answered the landlord; “a + young man—” + </p> + <p> + “A young man, yes—that’s right; I want to see him.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, as to that,” said the landlord, “I don’t know but you’ll have to + wait. He ain’t up yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t he up yet?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “At any rate, I must see him.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I wake him?” + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: HE TORE DOWN THE COVERLET, WHICH CONCEALED THE GREATER PART + OF HIS FACE.} + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and be quick, for I’m in a hurry.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I will do so,” said the other, “for I must see him. I have business of + importance.” He went up. + </p> + <p> + The landlord and some of the servants, whose curiosity was by this time + excited, followed after. + </p> + <p> + The old man opened the window, which swung back on hinges, and entered. + There was a man in the bed. + </p> + <p> + He lay motionless. The old man approached. He recognized the face. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Johnnie!” he screamed—“Johnnie!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “He is dead!” he shrieked. “My boy—my son—my Johnnie! + Murderer! You have killed him.” + </p> + <p> + The landlord and the servants started back in horror from the presence of + this father in his misery. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The dwellers in the cottage that was almost opposite saw him, and Asgeelo + brought them the news. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0057" id="link2HCH0057"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LVII. — MRS. COMPTON’S SECRET. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “He is about the same,” said Mrs. Compton. + </p> + <p> + “Does the doctor hold out any hopes of his recovery?” asked Brandon, + anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Very little,” said Mrs. Compton. + </p> + <p> + “Who nurses him?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Potts and Mr. Despard.” + </p> + <p> + “Are they both here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + Brandon was silent. + </p> + <p> + “I will go and tell them that you are here,” said Mrs. Compton. + </p> + <p> + Brandon made no reply, and Mrs. Compton, taking silence for assent, went + to announce his arrival. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Compton stood apart at a little distance, near Philips, and looked on + with a strange expression, half wistful, half timid. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You abhor me!” said he, in a loud, thrilling voice. + </p> + <p> + She said nothing, but pointed toward the inn. + </p> + <p> + “You know all about that?” + </p> + <p> + Beatrice bowed her head silently. + </p> + <p> + “And you look upon me as guilty?” + </p> + <p> + She gazed at him, but said nothing. It was a cold, austere gaze, without + one touch of softness. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Brandon started to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “As God lives,” he cried, “I did not do that thing!” + </p> + <p> + Beatrice looked up mournfully and inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + Roused by her vehemence Despard started from his abstraction and looked + around. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Beatrice, “is he not my father?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Your father!” said Despard; “his acts have cut him off from a daughter’s + sympathy.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “Edith!” interrupted Beatrice—“Edith!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; do you not know that? She was buried alive.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” cried Beatrice; “is it possible that you do not know that she is + alive?” + </p> + <p> + “Alive!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, alive; for when I was at Holly I saw her.” + </p> + <p> + Brandon stood speechless with surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Langhetti saved her,” said Beatrice. “His sister has charge of her now.” + </p> + <p> + “Where, where is she?” asked Brandon, wildly. + </p> + <p> + “In a convent at London.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment Despard entered. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “How is it possible? I was at Quebec myself. I have sought over the world + after my relatives—” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you,” said Despard. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I should have told you so before,” said Beatrice, “but my own troubles + drove every thing else from my mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me,” said Brandon, “for intruding now. I came in to learn about + Langhetti. You look upon me with horror. I will withdraw.” + </p> + <p> + Beatrice bowed her head, and tears streamed from her eyes. Brandon took + her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Farewell,” he murmured; “farewell, Beatrice. You will not condemn me when + I say that I am innocent?” + </p> + <p> + “I am accursed,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + Despard looked at these two with deep anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + The poor old creature began to tremble. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be afraid, old woman,” said Philips. “Take my arm and I’ll protect + you.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And you will be all here, then—sweet friends! It is well.” + </p> + <p> + He paused. + </p> + <p> + “Bice!” said he at last. + </p> + <p> + Beatrice, who was sitting by his head, bent down toward him. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Look at the mark,” said Langhetti. + </p> + <p> + Beatrice did so, and saw two letters marked on it—B. D. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + All around that bedside exchanged glances of wonder. Mrs. Compton was most + agitated. + </p> + <p> + “Take me away,” she murmured to Philips. + </p> + <p> + But Philips would not. + </p> + <p> + “Cheer up, old woman!” said he. “There’s nothing to fear now. That devil + won’t hurt you.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Heavens!” sighed Beatrice, in an agony of suspense. Brandon and + Despard stood motionless, waiting for something further. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” cried Despard, while he and Brandon both looked earnestly at Mrs. + Compton. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Compton!” said Langhetti; and his voice seemed to die away from + exhaustion. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Tears fell from Mrs. Compton’s eyes. She seized Brandon’s hand and pressed + it to her thin lips. + </p> + <p> + “You will protect me?” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “You will save me from him?” she persisted, in a voice of agony. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and from all others like him. Do not fear. Speak out.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>Vishnu</i> to such an + extent that it was ready for sea almost immediately, and left with Colonel + Despard on that ill-fated voyage. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Beatrice—my Beatrice!” he said, “Beatrice Despard—” + </p> + <p> + He spoke low, bending his head to hers. Her head sank toward his breast. + </p> + <p> + “Beatrice, do you now reproach me?” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Langhetti’s eyes were closed. Mrs. Compton and her son were talking apart. + Despard looked upon the lovers. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + A shudder passed through him. He drew himself up. + </p> + <p> + “Since love is denied me,” he thought, “I can at least have vengeance.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0058" id="link2HCH0058"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LVIII. — THE MALAY’S VENGEANCE. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you can be heard of at Holby, in case of need.” + </p> + <p> + “I am never going back again to Holby.” + </p> + <p> + Brandon looked surprised. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You are a clergyman,” said Brandon at length, with a faint hope that an + appeal to his profession might have some effect. + </p> + <p> + Despard smiled cynically. + </p> + <p> + “I am a man,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Can not the discovery of a sister,” asked Brandon, “atone in some degree + for your grief about your father?” + </p> + <p> + Despard shook his head wearily. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + With a slight bow Despard walked away, leaving Brandon standing there + filled with thoughts which were half mournful, half remorseful. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “IT WAS POTTS."} + </p> + <p> + Despard rode up and saw the prostrate figure of a man. He dismounted. The + farmers stood aside and disclosed the face. + </p> + <p> + It was Potts. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + It was a Malay creese. Upon the handle was carven a name: + </p> + <p> + JOHN POTTS. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0059" id="link2HCH0059"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LIX. — {Greek: Deute teleutaion aspasmon domen.} + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + As she kissed Langhetti’s lips he murmured faintly: + </p> + <p> + “I knew you would come.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Edith. “We will go together. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sweetest and dearest,” said Langhetti. “And therefore we meet now + never to part again.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him fondly. + </p> + <p> + “The time of our deliverance is near, oh my friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Near,” repeated Langhetti, with a smile of ecstasy—“near. Yes, you + have already by your presence brought me nearer to my immortality.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Thornton was pale and wan; and the shock which she felt at the sight + of her brother at first overcame her. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “This is the last that we shall see of one another, Little Playmate,” said + Despard, after a long silence. “I have left Holby forever.” + </p> + <p> + “Left Holby! Where are you going?” asked Mrs. Thornton, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “To join the army.” + </p> + <p> + “The army!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, forever,” murmured Mrs. Thornton. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: “SHE WAS WEEPING. DESPARD FOLDED HER IN HIS ARMS."} + </p> + <p> + “Would you be glad never to see me again?” + </p> + <p> + The hand which Despard held trembled. + </p> + <p> + “If you would be happier,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Would you be glad if I could conquer this love of mine, and meet you + again as coolly as a common friend?” + </p> + <p> + “I want you to be happy, Lama,” she replied. “I would suffer myself to + make you happy.” + </p> + <p> + She was weeping. Despard folded her in his arms. + </p> + <p> + “This once,” said he, “the only time, Little Playmate, in this life.” + </p> + <p> + She wept upon his breast. + </p> + <p> + “{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.” + </p> + <p> + He bent down his head. Her head fell. His lips touched her forehead. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “It is our last farewell,” said he, in a voice of agony. + </p> + <p> + Then he tore himself away, and, a few minutes later, was riding from the + village. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0060" id="link2HCH0060"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LX. — CONCLUSION. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Langhetti drew his bow across the strings. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Yet Langhetti understood it, and so did Edith. Her eyes grew brighter, a + flush started to her wan cheeks, her breathing grew more rapid. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: LANGHETTI DREW HIS BOW ACROSS THE STRINGS.} + </p> + <p> + He said not a word, but lay with his face turned toward her. They wished + to carry her away, but he gently reproved them. + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” he murmured. “In a short time you will carry away another also. + Wait.” + </p> + <p> + They waited. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + At Brandon Hall, the one who had been so long a prisoner and a slave soon + became mistress. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + THE END. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +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-h.htm or 8572-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/5/7/8572/ + + +Text file produced by David Moynihan, Tonya Allen, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + +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. 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